#[full discretion i know jack shit about burns]

[khoicesbyk]

Beloved.

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 3,970 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Prompt Time! Using @theworldofprompts story prompt of “You get put into an arranged marriage, only to find that the person you're engaged to....is a shapeshifter.”

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here

Song And Story Inspiration: Burn Slow-Ro James. | Survivor-2WEI feat Edda Hayes

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @choiceslady @txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid @aussieez @lucy-268 @bebepac @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @otherworldlypresents @hopefulmoonobject @theworldofprompts @choicesficwriterscreations

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

(Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you. 😁😘

Chapter 6.) Burn Slow.

Oohh... Shit… How you wanna feel? Do you want it raw? Do you want it real? Ima give it to ya. Ima give it to ya real honest. Yeah...

You ain't never had it like this before. Roll in my sheets while we rolling paper. Trying to get you higher than them scrapers. Catching vibes, catching vapors. You should call in sick. You should call in favors. I promise...

When Naia came to Hunt’s Peak it was to learn why her mother left and why she never wanted to talk about it. Never in a million years did she think that she’d meet Roman, who is the man she had been dreaming about for weeks. Nor did she think she’d meet Trent. A mystery man that enchanted her the first time she met him.

She definitely didn’t think she’d be kidnapped. But that’s exactly what happened. She was in the back of a white van with a hood over her head and her feet bound by zip ties. She had no idea where they were or where they were taking her. Wherever they were it was off road because she felt every bump they went over.

“Ow dammit!” She hissed as she hit her head on the floor.

When the van came to a sudden stop, Naia had one plan. She was going to run like hell and not look back. When the doors opened she knew it was now or never.

“Come! It’s time for the preparations to begin!” The man commanded.

“Eat a dick! I’m not going anywhere!” She hissed.

“We’re wasting time!” The woman said to her.

“Does it look like I care? Matter of fact does it sound like I care?” Naia asks.

Rather than answer, the man yanked Naia out of the van and threw her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” Naia shouted.

The two ignored her as they walked her down a strange path. Naia tried but couldn’t wriggle herself out of his grip.

“Goddamn this idiot is stronger than he looks. But I have to get away! I need to get away.” Naia thought to herself as she struggled to get free.

They came to a stop and the next thing Naia knew, she was being thrown onto a bed.

“SERIOUSLY?!”

Neither one answered her, instead the woman ripped the zip ties off with a yank. It scared Naia to witness how strong both of them were.

“This is where you will be until the ceremony at sundown.” The man told her.

“Sundown?! You can’t just leave me here!”

Both left her in the room alone, scared and confused.

She looked around the room to get her bearings, it was set up like a guest bedroom. Complete with candles on the wall, a plush bed and a fireplace. The room had no windows and the entrance was a stone door that she couldn’t move.

“I came all the way to West Virginia to learn why my mom left and I got kidnapped!” She says to herself.

Naia was just about to give up before remembering that her cell phone was in her pocket. When she pulled it out though, there was no signal.

“Well this is absolutely peachy!” She fussed.

As she looked around the room, she found herself slightly impressed.

“Not my taste but not bad.” Naia thought to herself.

She didn’t know what it was but something called her to the bed. She wasn’t tired but she felt the pull to rest. When she laid down her mind was lulled into a peaceful rest. It didn’t take long for her to doze off and dream.

You ain't never had it like this before. So don't you lie. Don't you tell me that you gotta go to work baby. Cause I can pay you for the whole week in bed. I just wanna get lost with you. That mean you belong to me. I wanna wake up.

Waking up to you in the morning. It's better than sunrise. So we can keep the curtains closed. Just light a few more candles and burn em' slow. Baking up with you in the morning. Trying to get a little rewind. Cause I ain't really ready to let you go. No no no no no No no no… Just light a few more candles and burn em' slow.

Elsewhere Roman was preparing for the ceremony himself. With Noemi at his side, Roman was eager to prepare.

“My my! You are eager, my child.” She said to him. She was like a grandmother to him.

“Indeed I am. I have waited for this day for so long, Speaker.”

“What are you most eager about Roman?” She asks.

“It is our bonding ceremony, Speaker. We will finally be together. I am eager to finally welcome her home.” He replied.

“This is indeed a momentous occasion. But, we mustn’t rush, you must remember that she knows not of our ways.”

“She can learn, yes?” He asked.

“Of course she can. But you mustn’t force her. It will only cause her to recoil and reject.”

“I understand, Speaker.”

“Very good. Now let us prepare.”

Oohh... Shit… Girl that Honey Jack put us on our back. When we on our back we get back to that action. Pour up Pour up. And let us take another round down. So we can get in another round. Yeah… I don't need no breakfast 'less it's you on my face. (Then we wake and we bake)

Waking up to you in the morning. It's better than sunrise. So we can keep the curtains closed. Just light a few more candles and burn em' slow.

Baking up with you in the morning. Trying to get a little rewind. Cause I ain't really ready to let you go. No no no no no No no no… Just light a few more candles and burn em' slow.

Noemi had Roman wade into the sacred springs as she prepared him.

“Mother Earth! Hear my call. Prepare my child for the bond of his Beloved. Open their hearts, minds and souls to receive one another.”

Roman inhaled then exhaled slowly as he closed his eyes. The Primal Magic flooded his being and guided his thoughts and soul to hers. He was transported to her dream. He was in the woods as was she.

Naia didn’t know how she wound up in the woods at night but she wasn’t scared. In fact she felt giddy because this time she was human. She was eager to run. What started out as a brisk walk turned into a jog, that turned into a sprint that turned into a full run.

She felt free as she ran through the woods. The wind in her face and the ground underfoot gave her a sense of invincibility. She felt like nothing could stop her. As she ran, she heard the sound of water. Whether it was the river or the creek she wasn’t sure. But, she followed the sound. She felt the water calling to her.

When she came out of the woods she came to the edge of a lake with a waterfall. She was out of breath but exhilarated. She closed her eyes and let the sound of the roaring waterfall soothe her.

Even with her heart thundering in her chest, she felt this strange sense of calmness. When she opened her eyes and looked out on the water she saw Roman. Only he wasn’t himself, he was a werewolf. He was huge, monstrous and beautiful. He held out his massive hand to her.

“Beloved…”

His voice was a low growl. And it should’ve terrified her but instead she trusted him. She walked to him and wrapped her arms around him and felt his arms embrace her. Her trust in him is strong and absolute. She felt safe, she felt loved and when he stepped back from her, she felt powerful. She watched him throw his massive head back and howl. It was commanding and made the woods around them come alive. When he looked at her with his now golden eyes, she woke up.

When Roman opened his eyes, they were golden and determined.

“Did you see her, my child?” Noemi asked.

“I did.” He replies.

“Are you ready?” She asks.

“Yes. Begin the ceremony.” He replied as he waded out of the springs.

Cause I ain't really ready to let you go. No no no no no… Then we wake and we bake. Waking up to you in the morning. So we can keep the curtains closed. Keep em' closed. Let's burn baby.

Baking up with you in the morning. Rewind Rewind… I just wanna get lost with you. No no no no no No no no… Just light a few more candles and burn em' slow. Ooh Shit…

Naia shot up in the bed breathing heavily with her heart pounding. She frantically looked around the room and quickly remembered where she was. She didn’t know what just happened but whatever did happen in that dream felt real. She was face to face with a werewolf. She was in the arms of a werewolf.

“Impossible. Werewolves don’t exist.” She thought to herself as she tried to make sense of her dream.  

That’s when she heard the stone door move and the man and woman who brought her there entered the room.

“It’s time. The ceremony is beginning!” was all he said.

Naia knew that fighting them was pointless. So, she decided to play along for now and she would find a way to escape later. She followed them out of the room which was connected to a corridor inside a large cave. She saw what was a makeshift kitchen, other pieces of furniture and a massive fireplace. It looked like the living room of The Flintstones.

When she stepped outside with them, it was nighttime. She had been asleep for hours, yet it only felt like she had a 20 minute nap. Naia followed the man and woman through the woods, formulating her escape plan as they walked.

Thought I couldn't breathe without you. I'm inhaling. You thought I couldn't see without you. Perfect vision. You thought I couldn't last without you. But I'm lastin'. You thought that I would die without you. But I'm livin'. Thought that I would fail without you. But I'm on top. Thought it would be over by now. But it won't stop. Thought that I would self destruct. But I'm still here. Even in my years to come. I'm still gon' be here.

They arrived at what she thought was a poor man’s Stonehenge. She saw people standing around the stones and a large fire, chanting in a language that she couldn’t understand. All she knew was she had to find a way to get the hell out of there.

“Ooooooooooooookaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy…I’m in a cult. Yup I’ve been kidnapped into a cult.” She said quietly. Or so she thought.

“Quiet girl! This is no time for jokes!” The man snapped at her, before he and the woman joined the group that was chanting.

Naia looked around for a way to escape. And when she found it she knew all she had to do was turn around and run. That’s when she saw Roman. He was dressed in leather and body paint. When they locked eyes her heart did backflips. He took her breath away.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn! This is creepy as all hell but sheesh! He’s fine as wine!” She thought to herself as she looked at him. She couldn’t help but notice every last one of his muscles.

There was something about him that turned her fear into curiosity. Any plan she had to run like hell was gone. She just stood there frozen in place. Her eyes never left him.

“We have been waiting for you.” He said to her. His voice was low and commanding. As the others around them chanted, Roman spoke again.

“Precious Mother Earth, we have gathered here to welcome Naia home to us. With her now returned to us the Pack is and will be stronger. We will thrive with her among us. We thank you! We worship you! May you live and flourish within us all.”

Naia thought she was seeing things when she watched his eyes turn golden. Roman had his arms outstretched to her.

“Come to me Beloved…”

“Roman I—“

She felt like she was in a trance by his words as she walked to him. She felt she was a puppet that was being controlled by someone else. She was beyond terrified but at the same time she felt that fear was irrational. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. Nor would he ever allow anyone else to hurt her. She knew she was safe as long as she had him.

When she felt his arms wrap around her, she felt like she did in her dreams. Loved, desired, needed and wanted. She felt at home in his arms. She could feel his warmth, love and devotion for her as they stood locked in each other’s arms. Whatever thought she had of running for the hills was long gone.

“Do not be afraid, Beloved. I’m here.”

“I don’t understand how any of this is happening.”

He tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. His gaze was deep and smoldering and made her knees weak. As weird and frightening as all of this was to her, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but there in his arms. He rested his head against hers which put her at ease. Listening to his breathing calmed her own.

“Welcome home Beloved.” He whispered softly to her.  

She looked up at him and was lost in his eyes. He took advantage of the moment and kissed her. The passion, force, intensity and power behind his kiss was intoxicating. She wanted more. She needed more. She wanted him. Their kiss ended because something was wrong. She felt a pull towards someone else. It was powerful enough to make her stagger.

“Beloved? What is it?” He asked her.

“Roman…something…is…wrong…” she replies before losing consciousness.

When she woke up the next morning, she was dizzy, disoriented and her head was pounding. Thankfully Roman was by her side.

“Beloved are you awake?” He asked her.

“Yes.” She said in a voice just above a whisper. She was holding the side of her head.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“It’s just a headache.” She replies.

“Still…drink.”

He handed her a cup of water. After drinking the water she was able to get her bearings.

“How did I wind up back in this room?” She asked.

“This is our room.” He replies.

“Our room? Where are we?” She asks.

“The den Beloved.” He replied.

“I was here earlier. I was brought and left here.”

“Yes I know. I apologize for that.”

“You knew I was here and never said anything?!” She asked.

“Yes but let me explain. I gave Jett and Isobel the command to bring you here.” He replies.

“You mean you told them to kidnap me?” She asked.

“Yes I did. I had no idea that they would treat you the way that they did. And for that I am deeply sorry. I want you to know that I have no reason to lie to you, Naia.” He replied.

Naia sat completely still trying to process what Roman had just told her. He openly and honestly admitted to having her kidnapped. And she needed to know why.

I'm a survivor. I'm not gon' give up. I'm not gon' stop, oh. I'm gon' work harder. I'm a survivor. I'm not gon' give up. I'm not gon' stop, oh. I'm gon' work harder. I'm the survivor. I'm gonna make it. I will survive. Keep on survivin'.

“If you wanted to see me all you had to do was ask.” She said with a teasing smirk.

“I can’t apologize to you enough. How can I make it up to you?” He asks while taking her right hand in his. His touch was electric and warmed her skin.

“Tell me why I was brought here? What is all of this?” She asked.

“Today was our bonding ceremony, Beloved.” He replies.

“Our bonding ceremony? I don’t understand. What does that mean?” She asked.

“Our hearts, our minds and our souls are connected forever. We are bonded until the end of time.” He replies.

“Like an arranged marriage?” She asks.

“Not exactly. Just an awakening of what was always meant to be between us. You are mine Naia and I am yours. Always and forever.” He replies.

“I believe you. As weird as all of this is to me.”

She could feel the sincerity in his voice. Something in his tone and poster relaxed her. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was intrigued by him.

“Come. It is time for you to meet your people, Naia.”

He stood up holding his hand out to her.

“Let me show you what you were meant to find.”

She took his hand trusting him just as she did in her dreams. She spent the day getting to know everybody. Most like Layla, Callum, Noemi and Grayson seemed nice while others like Isobel, Jett and Barrett left much to be desired. By the end of the day, Naia was tired but not sleepy. Not yet anyway. Roman found her sitting in front of the fireplace in the bedroom, lost in her own thoughts.

“You seem distracted, Beloved.”

“Just trying to process everything that I’ve learned today. That’s all.”

“Come. Allow me to show you something.”

They walked out of the den and to a clearing in the surrounding woods. When they sat down in the grass, they looked up and saw the stars clear as day.

“I wanted to show you this.”

“It’s beautiful! I love to stargaze.”

“Do you Beloved?” He asks.

“Yes! My daddy bought me a telescope when I was a kid and we would look up at the stars with it. My love for the stars inspired my tattoo.” She replies.

He cocked an eyebrow at her then asked, “you have a tattoo?”

She gave him a small smile before moving her hair out of the way, to reveal a tattoo of butterflies and stars along the back of her left shoulder blade.

“It’s beautiful. What does it mean?” He asks.

“The stars represent my dreams and the butterflies represent freedom. And together they mean the freedom to follow my dreams.” She replies.

They went back to looking at the stars. She felt him wrap his arms around her and pull her closer to his chest. She relished in the warmth that came from being close to him. When a shooting star streaked across the sky, both looked up.

“Make a wish, Naia.” He whispered softly in a husky voice. She closed her eyes and made a wish.

“What did you wish for?” He asked.

“I’m not telling you! That would ruin the wish.” She replies.

“I bet that I can guess what you wished for.”

“Oh yeah? What did I wish for Roman?” She challenged him.

He tilted her chin up and kissed her. The kiss was soft yet deep and powerful. For the second time in less than a day, Roman took her breath away. When the kiss ended she was desperate for him.

“That is what you wished for Beloved.” He whispered against her lips.

“Damn…you’re good.”

While her brain was screaming for her to run, her heart kept her in his arms. She was right where she needed to be in that moment. A yawn indicated that she was getting tired.

“It’s late. You should rest.”

“I am not the least bit sleepy.” She said as she yawned again.

“Come Beloved.”

“But I want to stay out here with you.” She whined.

He shook his head at her and smiled. She was perfect to him.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was getting sleepy. It only took 20 minutes for her to doze off. He tightened his arms around her. In one motion, he stood up with her in his arms. He carried her back to the den and put her to bed.

When she woke up the next morning, Roman was gone. As she scanned the room she noticed a giant paw print on the ground. But there wasn’t a dog in sight. The print was wider than her hand.

“Ooooooooooooookaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy apparently there are very big dogs here too…this place just gets weirder and weirder.” She thought to herself as she walked into the main den.

“There you are!” Layla called out to her.

“Layla! You’re here too?” Naia asked.

“I live here.” She replied proudly.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this?” Naia asked.

“Because much like everyone else, I thought you already knew. I heard about what happened.” Layla replies.

“You thought I knew about this?” Naia asked.

“I thought your uncle told you that the bonding ceremony would happen.” Layla replies.

“So he knew about this too? Who doesn’t know?” Naia asks, clearly frustrated.

“To be honest, I’m sure the whole town knows.” Layla replies with a shrug.

“Yuuuuup. This whole place is weird. Just weird.”

Layla chuckled.

“How has Roman treated you?” Layla asks.

“He’s made me feel comfortable and welcomed and he’s given me space.” Naia replied.

“Well that explains the look on your face.”

Naia blushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh. Then why are your cheeks flushed?” Layla asks.

“They aren’t flushed.” Naia replies in protest.

Layla just smirked at her.

“Where is everyone?” Naia asked.

“On a hunt. They’ll be back soon.” Layla replies.

The two chatted and laughed until the Pack returned from a successful hunt.

Later that evening, Naia found herself walking along a creek watching the sun set behind the clouds. That’s when she ran into Trent.

“Naia! There you are!” He said in relief.

“Where else would I be?” She asks.

“I went by your uncle’s place and he said he hasn’t seen you in days. So I figured I’d check near the den to see if you were there.” He replied.

“Well yeah. That’s where I’ve been.”

“Are you alright? Have they hurt you?” He asked.

Naia noticed the panicked urgency in his voice.

“I’m fine and no, they haven’t hurt me.” She replied.

“We have to get you out of here! You’re in danger.”

“From what?” She asks.

“Roman isn’t who you think he is. He’s dangerous Naia. You need to get away now.” He replies.

“What are you doing here?” Roman asks. His voice was booming. And he was flanked by Callum, Jett and Barrett.

“Naia’s coming with me. I’m sure you won’t have a problem with that. After all, you were the one who had her kidnapped!” Trent snapped at him.

“Leave now!”

“Happily! As long as she comes with me.”

“Do NOT test me Trent!”

“Or what?” Trent asked, challenging Roman.

Before Naia could intervene, Roman let out a howl and started to transform along with the others. The muscles on his body contorted, claws and hair sprouted as he grew bigger. Naia watched in complete horror as Roman went from human to a full on werewolf right before her eyes. Trent on the other hand drew his gun.

“Well! Well! Well! If it ain’t the Big Bad Wolf! I wondered when you’d make an appearance.” Trent said, almost giddy.

“She…is…mine!” Roman growled.

“HA! Not if I have anything to say about it!” Trent said through gritted teeth.

I'm a survivor. I'm not gon' give up. I'm not gon' stop, oh. I'm gon' work harder. I'm the survivor. I'm gonna make it. I will survive. Keep on survivin'.

Naia stood frozen in absolute fear. She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Roman is an actual werewolf.

[solivagantis]

After the pressure retreats together with the bear, you find yourself being able to take deeper breaths again. It's not as if you felt suffocated before — not enough for it to cause anything beyond discomfort, in any case — but the difference is apparent. And the bear costume is only an ember to the inferno of Kagutsuchi's final vessel. Remembering your first and last battle with the god, you wonder how you'd been able to keep from burning your lungs out with the scorching air alone. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but then again, gods rarely do.

A couple of minutes pass as you stay put to see if the bear would come back. When there's no doubt about the answer, a resounding "no", you finally lower your weapon, and with some consideration, sheath it. Tension drains from your body, shoulders dropping and muscles relaxing. A quick check-in with Izanagi confirms your thoughts — the bear has left the two of you well and truly alone.

Not sure what to make of the encounter, you hold off picking up the shard, instead approaching the control panel. The monitors still show the sprawling architecture of the school. Hallways and classrooms, Persona fragments glimmering in the dimmed light, schoolgrounds with a lone Shadow slinking towards the building. And no sign of General Teddie.

Leaning over the panel, you start playing with the controls. Flicking switches and pushing buttons at random, watching the surveillance feed change. Just to have something to occupy your hands with while you think.

Your options are limited at best. Either leave with the fragment, or without it. Your job compels you to do the former, but you have reservations. Kagutsuchi, despite acting cagey, wanted you to take it. The bear even went as far as lying about preparing the scene just for you to make it more appealing. Hell, you'd witnessed the whole spectrum, from denial to bargaining to threats to coaxing. Nothing was spared to goad you into taking it. Something is amiss here.

At some point, your fingers start drumming on the metal surface. Forcing your hand to still, you push yourself away from the console and approach the fragment. It lays on the floor, glow steady and soft, unchanged by the departure of its previous holder. Izanagi, following your command before you can formulate it, starts the scan. Sword unsheathed once again, you give the shard a few hesitant taps with the blunt edge. A clear, bell-like tone rings out, filling the announcement room.

You can't leave with empty hands. Or, rather, you can, but you don't want to. Apart from completing a mission that was supposed to result in nothing, leaving the fragment here seems unwise. If there's something wrong with it — and there is — wouldn't it be better to take it back with you? Besides, if you leave it here, someone else can stumble upon it. Someone even less equipped to deal with this than you are. Whatever danger it might pose, it would be safer with the Operatives.

It is a Persona fragment, Izanagi prods you. But not an individual one. You're looking at an amalgamation of many Personae in solid form, all soaked in Kagutsuchi's residual power. A bit of Konohana Sakuya, a bit of Trismegistus, a bit of Sukuna-Hikona. And, true to the bear's word, a bit of Izanagi.

Although the piece was carved off when Izanagi was still just Izanagi, not Izanagi-no-Mikoto, the presence of it excites the Persona a great deal, it feels like Izanagi would chirp if given the means to. As it is, you're left with clawed hands squeezing your shoulders, a high-frequency pitch in your head, and a Persona floating up and down like an overenthusiastic child.

In the end, it's probably Izanagi who prompts you to pick one option over the other.

Crouched in front of the fragment, you stare into the core, where the crystal loses its translucency. The essences of Personae supposedly reside there, mingling together in a powerful cocktail of inner energy. And not just any Personae. For all of your fervor to get to the top of the tower, you never considered Izanagi. Getting a piece of yourself torn out had to be painful. You don't feel in any way less now, years after the whole ordeal, but looking at the way your Persona is acting...

An exasperated sigh escapes you. Sitting here doing nothing only wastes time. In one motion, you take a hold of the fragment.

And immediately hiss as searing pain shoots up your arm. Your whole body staggers forward in shock, free hand immediately darting out to brace it, keep you relatively upright. The shard burns, scalds under your fingers, making a disgusting seething sound, and you can't get it off. Your grip refuses to relax, palm glued to the smooth material. You can only watch, numb to everything but your hand. Oh god, did your skin melt into the fucking thing? Fuck fuck fuck it hurts.

That's when adrenaline kicks in, propelling you out of your stupor. Everything around you sharpens as pain dulls with the express purpose of getting you out of this as soon as possible. Your mind, tripping over the way the fragment brightens, now radiant and fluctuating like a desperate, frantic heartbeat an overcharged lightbulb about to explode, hyperfocuses on one task: tear it off. Damage control later.

Any other time, you would try to control the adrenaline rush. But now is not any other time. What the hell is wrong with this thing, it hurts more than any fire spell ever did. Manic energy dominating your every move, you scramble to your knees and lift the bad hand over your head, only to bring it down on the floor with all the force you can muster. And then again. And again, and again. Each blow sends more pain through your hand as ridges of the white-hot rock dig into your palm. But it's fine. A crack begins forming across the shard, spreading as it's slammed into the ground. For one sickening moment, you feel the crystal sink into your flesh, past the skin and deeper, before shattering under the abuse.

You stay still after, listening to the blood pounding in your ears. As the adrenaline high passes and the energy saps away, you're left with a collection of cold, colorless remnants and a hand that hurts like all hell.

Exhausted by the exertion, you get up to your feet and shuffle over to the control panel, a slight sway in your step. After sitting yourself down on the headboard, you look up. During the... situation, all contact with Izanagi ceased. Still, the Persona is here, previous enthusiasm noticeably soured. Right. The injury has to be dealt with.

Although you'd rather avoid it; the sharp smell of burned meat doesn't enthuse you much.

Now ever so closer to you, Izanagi extends his hands, patient before anything else. In a way, the sight of your Persona being fussy eases your apprehension. Sliding down the control panel, you reach out with your own hand.

The damage can only be described as a crater. A rapid incline mars the flesh of your palm where the fragment came into contact with it. Charred, your fingers still twitch involuntarily in response to pain. To test the movement, you ball your hand into a fist and back, scrunching your nose at the unnatural feeling of skin stretching to its limits and catching on the edges of the wound. Funnily enough, it's the edges that hurt, not the hollow. In fact, when you touch the stiff, bile-yellow tissue in the cavity, there's no feeling at all.

Before you can do any more harm to yourself, Izanagi seizes you by the wrist, claws tracing over the branded, leathery flesh. At the same time, the refreshing trickle of healing magic flows through your veins, relieving the pain. Not enough to stop it altogether, but you're not going to complain.

Still bothered by something, Izanagi pries your fingers open. The wound looks— bad, you're not going to sugarcoat it, but you don't see what else can be done at this point. The stupid rock really did a number on you, you have no energy to expend on further healing. One more time, your eyes glide over your palm, trying to figure out what about it irks Izanagi.

And then you see it. A bleary stain of sickly green among yellows and browns and reds.

God—damnit.

...Truth be told, extracting the piece turns out to be a straightforward process. Yes, it sits deep in the meat of your palm, where no foreign object should, and yes, it's caked over with a hard crust of dead membrane, but all in all, it's not too bad. A box cutter found after rummaging through the tables around the announcement room does the trick. Courtesy of burned nerves, picking at the wound is painless, if off-putting.

After the piece is uprooted from its resting place, some fused in tendons still clinging to it, it becomes clear why you hadn't noticed it sooner. It's a minuscule, insignificant splinter, even smaller than those scattered around the school. The only thing that sets it apart is the color. It retained its green tint where all other remnants of the shard lost theirs.

You offer it to Izanagi, who's been staying silent while you defaced your hand even more. With a great deal of reluctance, the Persona accepts, too-big hands careful and fumbling at the same time. But the second the splinter comes into contact with Izanagi, it ignites to life, and all caution is thrown to the wind. Claws clicking together, Izanagi clutches the splinter between his palms and curls in on himself, drinking up the energy.

How long it lasts, you're not sure. The light Izanagi radiates makes your vision swim, and the next thing you know, you're being steadied by your Persona. Like before, you don't feel any changes in your condition. Izanagi, though, Izanagi is... different. It's hard to tell exactly how. He looks healthier, if Personae can look healthier. Maybe the colors of his coat grow less dull. Can white be less dull?

Doesn't matter. Izanagi is feeling better, and that's all you need to know. Kicking back from your position on the edge of the control panel, you lean on the glass behind you. Cold metal dotted with buttons and switches doesn't make for the best seat, but you can't find it in yourself to bother locating a better one. "At least something good came out of this disaster," you comment in a diplomatic tone. Izanagi, for the lack of voice or any facial features, only nods in response. The room is quiet, save for the whir of servers in the corner. You exhale, tired and drawn-out.

Just a little bit of rest before heading back.

[sheerfreesia007]

Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 37)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 37)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 1,305

Warnings: Semi-Smut, Thigh Riding, Cursing

Tags: @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​, @two-unbeatable-beaters​, @randomness501​, @sevvysaurus​, @paryl​, @fioccodineveautunnale​, @talesfromtheguild​

Author Notes: I kinda liked this one. I wanted to focus a little more on the reader being shy but I feel like I didn’t do that as well as I was hoping. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Just a heads up I’ve kinda got a posting schedule for this now (half-way through I finally got a posting schedule) there’ll be parts posted on Mondays and Fridays each week and I’ve got a few a queued up already. I’m kinda excited to finally get enough written up to start a schedule. :)

Gif Credit: @kingsmannetwork​

           You cursed yourself softly, you knew he was being a little shit as he smirked at you from across the conference table but you couldn’t help the bright heated blush that grew across your cheeks. Sometimes you really hated how shy you were in certain situations. Especially right now.

           You were stuck sitting in a meeting with a few of the other field agents discussing how best to infiltrate a gang that had popped up not far from HQ here in Kentucky, and Jack was seated right across the table from you. Because it was Jack you wouldn’t be surprised if he had planned it that way.

           All it had taken was Jack staring at you with that knowing look from across the table and suddenly your cheeks were growing hot and bright red. It wasn’t even because he was staring, no it was because you knew what that stare meant. He was watching you with a look that said he knew what you looked like naked and he liked it. Oh how you normally loved that look but right now was not the time. The man had no discretion!

           Shifting in your seat you watched as Jack’s eyes focused on the movement and then a smirk slowly slithered across his lips. His eyes seemed to heat from within and you watched as they became that soft warm caramel color that would usually put you under his spell. But today you couldn’t allow him to get that type of hold on you, no today you were in an important meeting and couldn’t be distracted. Especially when you really want to be distracted, distracted by his mouth on your neck sucking dark marks into your skin, or distracted by those talented hands gripping and grabbing at your flesh, or distracted by his cock that you knew was lying in wait under his well-worn denim jeans. You felt your cheeks renew their blush as you thought of how much you really wanted to be distracted by Jack.

           Shaking your head you focus back on the meeting and do your best to ignore Jack. But of course he wouldn’t make it easy, no why would he do that? His voice rang out into the air in his signature low timbre that made a shiver run up and down your spine. You steadfastly kept your eyes off him but just listening to him speak was starting to do things to you. Your thighs clenched and rubbed together as you felt a knot of arousal begin to form in your stomach.

           “Isn’t that right Curaçao?” Jack questioned with a smirk and your eyes darted over to him as you jolted in your seat. Tequila snickered softly next to you and you quickly surveyed the room trying to figure out what Jack was talking about.

           “O-of course.” You replied nodding your head feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment and anxiety. Tequila snickered again from next to you and you shot him a glare as you tried to will away the blush. “Shut up.” You hissed at him and he smirk as his shoulders shook with mirth.

           “Alright so then I’ll leave it to Whiskey and Curaçao to research the gang and find another way to infiltrate them. You’re all dismissed.” Champ affirmed easily as he nodded his head at you and Jack. Your eyes darted over to Jack and saw the smirk planted on his face and suddenly you felt like smacking it off him.

           Standing from your chair you tried to make a quick exit but almost groaned out loud as Jack called your name from behind you. You turned to shoot him a glare over your shoulder; he knew how much you hated how shy you were and your blushing habit. You waited for him at the door and then exited with him on your heels.

           “C’mon darlin’, it wasn’t that bad.” Jack cooed to you and you just let out a huff towards him while he grinned at you teasingly. Suddenly Jack grabbed your elbow and led you into his office quickly.

           “Jack! I’ve gotta-“ you yelped out at the quick movement before Jack cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You gasped as he nibbled at your bottom lip and he took advantage to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned against his mouth and your hands came up to card through his hair.

           “I love that I can still make you blush with just a look.” Jack said softly against your lips as he pulled away. “Tell me darlin’ what were you thinking about while I was lookin’?”

           Your cheeks were burning at his words and question. You didn’t want to confess what you thought about during the meeting. You gasped when you felt Jack bite down on the skin where your neck met your shoulder.

           “C’mon darlin’ tell me. What were you thinking?” he asked again. His thigh slotted between yours and pushed up creating delicious pressure at your core. You moaned and gripped tightly onto his shoulders.

           “Jack.” You whispered as you felt your arousal begin to pool in your stomach again. “Please.” You begged softly and ran your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and he shivered against you.

           “I’ll give it to you darlin’ just tell me what you were thinking about.” He promised softly as he pressed his lips lightly to yours as his hands fell to your waist and dragged your core against his thigh. You keened high in the back of your throat before your breaths came out in heavy pants. “C’mon darlin’ tell me.”

           “I was thinking about you.” You gasped out and tried to thrust your hips so that his thigh would drag against you again.

           “Uh-uh, specifics.” He admonished you holding your hips still against his thigh. You groaned frustrated as your skin begin to heat with arousal. You knew you would have to do what he said or he wouldn’t let you cum.

           “I was thinking about your mouth sucking hickeys into my neck. I was thinking about your hands grabbing my ass and tits hard. I was thinking about you fucking me with that hard cock of yours.” You panted out quickly and shifted your hips around Jack’s thigh.

           “Fuck darlin’ no wonder you were blushing.” He said in awe of your words. When his hands dragged you against his thigh you almost cried out in reprieve.

           “It’s your fault. What with that look you were giving me.” You gasped out as he dragged you faster against his thigh. His deep chuckle was your only response as you hurtled towards your orgasm. Your hips pressed your core further onto his thigh as he dragged you quicker and quicker against his thigh.

           “Couldn’t help myself I love seeing you blush.” He said lowly in a seductive tone that made you shiver. “C’mon darlin’cum for me.” He demanded softly. And suddenly you felt his thigh clench underneath you making your orgasm rush through your body swiftly.

           “Oh Jack!” you cried out as the arousal crested inside you. You panted softly trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high. Jack slowly lowered you until you were steady on your feet his hands never leaving your hips. When he pulled his thigh away from you, you noticed a dark patch on his denim and suddenly your blush was back in full force. Jack watched you silently and then looked down to his thigh and smirked widely.

           “Hmm, well aren’t you just a pretty picture.” He cooed softly to you and you looked up at him confused. “Hair’s a little messy, glazed over eyes, lazy smile on your lips and that adorable blush that just drive me crazy.” He growled out to you making you blush even harder.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I’ve Traveled Troubled Oceans - Chapter One: The Plot

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this painting?” Jack asks the room at large.

Anne shrugs.

Charles grunts.

“Maybe Max would want it?”

That's the most sensible suggestion Jack's probably going to get out of the lot of them – and it's coming from the new guy. So that bodes well for this whole fucking venture now doesn't it.

“Wait,” Charles says, finally deigning to actually look at what the fuck Jack's talking about. “Flint didn't want it?”

It is, technically, Flint's painting. Traded to Jack for hash by some street kids and paid to Flint in recompense for connecting him with that party full of poncy coke fiends with more money than burst capillaries.

Anne gives a derisive snort.  “Nah, he fucked off to America to live in romantic poverty with his boy toy.”

Though given that said boy toy is heir to the Hamilton fortune, their romantic poverty is more likely to involve a stately home in Greenville or Chapel Hill or something than actual poverty of the variety he or Anne or Chaz are familiar with.

“Well I don't give a fuck what you do with it, Jack. Just get it out of here. I don't want any more Spaniards poking around. Or Russians. Or whoever the fuck they were. They fucking trashed the place.”

“Yes, of course, Charles. You're absolutely right. They simply ruined the whole crack den vibe we've got going on here. I'll make certain we get our interior decorating straightened out first priority.”

“Fuck you, Jack.”

Charles wishes.

“Well, if I'm actually giving it to Max, Anne had better be the one to deliver it.” Since Max doesn't like Jack, for some reason. And really, really likes Anne for completely obvious reasons.

“Fine,” Anne grits out. As if getting eaten out in the back of a Range Rover is really fucking up her social calendar. “But you're helping me carry it all the way to the fucking West End.”

Wonderful. Now Jack gets to stand outside in the cold while Anne gets eaten out in the back of a Range Rover.

“Fine.”

Jack shrugs on his warmest coat. Maybe he can make a little dosh off the snobby theater patrons. The rich artsy fucks – or those who style themselves that way, anyway – always have a habit or two to indulge.

But surprisingly, Jack gets pulled into the back of Max's car right along with Anne and the painting. And he doubts it's for another ill-considered threesome. Not with the way Max actually deigned to pause whatever boring regency-era drama she's got on. No, she wants to talk business.

Exactly what business that is becomes apparent when Mr. Scott joins them.

“You want the money,” Jack blurts out.

Max nods.

“And you want to use my crew to get it.”

Another nod.

“Fuck no. I'm not going against Eleanor and Woodes Rogers. Not for love or money.” He gets up to leave, gesturing Anne to follow. She's the love, he's the money.

Mr. Scott speaks up. “He owes me.” His tone is level, but Jack can read the vehemence behind it. “They all owe me.”

And Jack doesn't have to be a genius to guess what he means.

“He sent you away for that four stretch. Just like he sent Flint and Silver and who knows how many others.”

Like Charles. Oh, fuck, Charles. Who'd gone away on a two stretch on a job that shouldn't have been anything but a quick in and out. But somehow London's finest had been there, waiting, handcuffs just ready to snap around his wrists.

“That man owned me, body and soul.” And Mr. Scott's anger has gone beyond vehement to downright poisonous, though he's still speaking in that same even tone. “But he thought I was getting greedy. Getting uppity. So he sent me away, to teach me a lesson.”

Like he was some errant school boy and Lord Hamilton his headmaster. Oh, he'd always styled himself as such, the pompous prick. Mr. Scott takes a breath.

“So yes, I want the fucking money.”

Fair enough, in Jack's estimation. But that still doesn't explain why he's the one who has to go get it.

“Surely there are enough remnants of Flint's old crew to con into this suicide mission.” Billy Bones comes to mind. He's pretty sure either Eleanor or Woodes Rogers would be susceptible.

“Flint's gone,” Max supplies. “Bones turned traitor. And Silver paid me out the ass to help him disappear. Last I'd heard, he ran away up North to open a pub with Madi.”

So that's his share disappeared, then. No wonder Max is going straight to the source.

Anne snorts. “Wonder how long that honeymoon's going to last.”

Max smiles, and it's not a very nice expression. “Well, either they'll reconcile or Madi will be back here in a week with a big fat insurance payment on the pub that mysteriously burned down – and Silver will be nowhere to be found.”

Mr. Scott smiles proudly. Madi truly is her mother's daughter.

“Ok, ok. You're short on options. But that still doesn't explain why you'd come to me.” Jacks been out of that particular game since Charles went away. And sure, he's built himself a tidy little empire here, dealing drugs to the rich idiots who want them. But that doesn't mean he's ready to get back in the saddle – and certainly not with anything on the scale Max is talking about.

Max looks uncomfortable, which isn't an expression Jack's used to seeing on her. “It needs to happen quickly and with discretion.”

And there isn't anyone else she trusts with this, Jack realizes. Well, damn. Now he's got to do it – Max owing him a favor is worth thrice his weight in cold hard cash.

“Why the time limit?” Anne asks.

An excellent question. “The Eleanor I know doesn't need the money. She probably just took it because she got bored of her gilded little cage.” She'll want to keep it around for a while, as a trophy if nothing else.

“Eleanor doesn't need the money,” Max says with a grin that spells nothing but misfortune for her victims, “but Woodes Rogers is another story entirely.”

“I thought he was loaded,” Jack interjects. “Surely blow and rent boys can't run him that much.” Though if he holds parties like the one Jack had attended on a regular basis – that might actually start draining the old trust fund. But even so, he and Eleanor both work the kind of rich people jobs that amount to doing fuck all and being paid out the ass for it. So he doesn't think that's quite it.

Mr. Scott smiles, and it's not a very warm expression. “Apparently Mr. Rogers has something of a gambling problem. He's run up significant debts with some international syndicates – including our friends the Spanish.”

“And now that his patron Lord Hamilton is out of the picture,” Max continues, “he's left with wolves at the door. The cash is as good as gone by the end of the week.”

“Well shit,” Anne says.

A sentiment Jack wholeheartedly endorses.

“Even if I had an entire week to plan this venture, I couldn't guarantee success. And all you're giving me is three days! How the hell am I supposed to pull this off, Max?”

Max smiles. “Charles is back in town, isn't he?”

“Yes,” Jack says tightly.

“That's your way in.”

“Now I know you're joking.”

Max raises one delicate eyebrow in question.

“Charles and Eleanor had a rather... explosive falling out right before he went away. Surely you heard about it. There's no way in hell he's our way in – she'll slam the door right in his face.”

“The thing about Eleanor, Jack, is that she loves to burn bridges. But once she's burned them, she inevitably finds herself looking back across the water to the other side. And finds she rather misses what she had when she was there.”

And isn't that just a terrible insight into Max and Eleanor's former relationship. Jack shudders. He's never going to bitch about Max being with Anne again.

Probably.

“Ok,” Anne says. “So Eleanor still has the hots for Chuck and she'll fuck him just cuz of that.”

“Well, not just because of that,” Max interjects. “She'll fuck him because she likes to have her cake and eat it too.”

Max waves an airy hand around the group assembled.

“We are all well aware of how things ended between her and Charles. And she hates to lose face above all else. Her fucking Charles and then throwing him over is her rewriting the breakup – getting to play the all powerful king and him the pitiful subject, to be used and thrown away on a whim.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Fine,” Anne interrupts, annoyed. “Eleanor's going to play weird sex mind-games with him instead. How does this help us get the money?”

“Eleanor's the one who'd smell a rat,” Jack says. “Woodes Rogers isn't exactly the sharpest or most conniving knife in the drawer. He'd let us right in on, on the pretense of another party. We sell to him and his friends again and they're all too off their heads and sex crazy to bother wondering where we've run off to after.”

“The rich have an amazing ability to overlook the “help” once they've stopped making themselves useful,” Mr. Scott adds.

“Right, yes.” Jack nods decisively as a plan forms. “And with Eleanor otherwise occupied, we'd have run of the whole house. Plenty of time to snoop around and find the money. And if we bring a travel case for the drugs – we load up the cash and just walk out as if nothing ever happened.”

“And as luck would have it,” Mr. Scott interjects, “they plan on throwing a party this very Wednesday evening – in celebration of Miss Guthrie's birthday.”

A plan formed, Jack and the others all nod in unison. They're going to get that fucking cash.

Although convincing Charles to go along with it might be a little difficult.

[gaylordepicboy]

Mark and Jack Join the Fake AH Crew (for a little while, at least).

Geoff had gathered the crew together in his spare apartment to wait for the new arrivals that would be helping them on their next heist. These men were in the same business as the crew but worked primarily solo. Both were revered in the worst ways for their chaotic yet brutally effective style. They were loose canons: trigger happy, overwhelmingly destructive, apathetic and reckless: precisely the added edge the crew needed for this mission. Due to their individual successes, the duo came at a steep price and arrived on their own terms. Geoff thought it only appropriate that the men be properly introduced (whenever it was that they arrived) and that the crew should come off as intimidatingly well organized as possible. 

 This was the infamous Fake AH Crew.

 And they had a reputation to uphold. 

There was just one problem- Geoff had forgotten that the crew members weren't accustomed to sitting in one place for long periods of time. Barely an hour had passed and Gavin was already daring Michael to fence against Jeremy: one with the fire poker and the other with the ember shovel. "Hey, why does he get the pointy one!?" Michael protested, "And I get the shovel thing!? This is fucking bullshit..."  Ryan was trying to diffuse the situation, patting the air and cooing "Boys, boys, leave the fencing to the professionals. Let's not kill each other before giving someone else the satisfaction of trying first, alright?" Jeremy crouched, posturing in a clumsily mimicked fencing position, "Think you could do better, huh?" He was eying Ryan like a mischievous puppy that wanted to play. "I could fence you with my switchblade right now, even if you actually knew the proper fire-poker wielding technique," Ryan flicked out his blade, a playful gleam in his calculating eyes, and settled into a fighting stance. Jack was making bets with Gavin on who was going to win until Michael wrestled the Brit to the ground. Geoff watched disdainfully, warning "If one of you fuckers knocks over my expensive whiskey someone is actually gonna die!"  

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

 Everyone stopped- Jeremy standing on the table with the poker poised above his head and Ryan below, daring a glance at the door with his open switchblade held defensively before him. Michael dropped the ember shovel, releasing a gasping Gavin from an iron choke hold, and Jack hopped down from the bar where she'd been cheering to creep up behind Geoff. "Is that them?" She whispered. "How the hell should I know, I haven't opened the goddamn door!" Geoff hissed back. "Then quit whisper-yelling at me and go open the goddamn door!" "FINE!” Geoff’s volume had graduated to a stern yell, “But when I open that door this room better be presentable as dicks!" "Yes, sir!..... Colby!" Jeremy saluted, turned, and launched the fire poker in hopes of arcing it into the rack by the fire place. The flying iron spear chipped against the surrounding brick with shriek and clattered to the ground. "Oops." Geoff heaved an exasperated sigh and muttered his way to the door, half expecting whoever was there to have left by now. The visitor certainly hadn't left, as Geoff quickly discovered; instead, he had reclined lengthwise along the railing of the stairwell's landing with one leg hanging off the side and the other firmly planted on the rail for balance. The man unclasped his hands from behind his head and turned to look at Geoff, repositioning himself like a French model on a balance beam with a self-satisfied smirk. "I figured I'd let myself in, but I didn't want to be rude and interrupt whatever you guys had going on in there. Sounded like it was getting pretty heated," The man spoke calmly, his voice like the rumble of thunder on a warm night. It was almost enough to make one forget that he had just bypassed an advanced security system and six strategically placed door locks. Geoff was already starting to feel like he'd made a monumental mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. This kid better not be more trouble than he's worth... "Well, gee, I can’t imagine what we could’ve done to deserve so much of your discretion. Or is this just how you kiss up to all your employers?" The man smiled again, "Only the ones I like." In one fluid motion, he grabbed the duffel bag lying next to him with one hand and held the railing with the other, swinging his feet over onto the ground and landing squarely in front of Geoff. "So, where's this 'crew' I've heard so much about? Rumor has it you're the most formidable gang in Los Santos, I'd hate to think you'd take all that credit for yourself." "You obviously underestimate just how much of an egomaniac I am,” Geoff retorted, “ And it's not a rumor, kid, we're the real deal. You'd better learn that pretty damn fast or this job is gonna suck, I'll tell you right now." "Heh. I think I'll be the judge of that." Geoff grimaced at the man’s flagrant arrogance, if only because it rivaled his own, "Wipe that dumbass smile off your face and follow me." Inside he was frantically praying to every deity he denied the existence of that the crew had gotten their act together. He wasn't about to be made a mockery of, especially by this pretentious delinquent.

Was he? 

Apparently, the Gods were feeling generous towards the nonbelievers that day, because waiting for him in the other room was nothing short of a miracle. The lights had been dimmed and the electric shades on the surrounding windows were closed, allowing the burning logs in the fire place to cast an eerie glow across the faces of the crew members. Gavin was reclining in the arm chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table, lazily shuffling and reshuffling his deck of gold-laced playing cards; Jeremy used the windowsill like a bench, resting his elbows on his knees and slouching so that the brim of his cowboy hat just barely covered his eyes; Ryan had thrown on his mask was now leaning against the brick of the fire place with his arms crossed; Michael took over the couch, his arms splayed out along the back cushions on either side of him, a burning cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth; Jack sat at the adjacent bar and took a long swig of the beer she had been nursing, brining it down on the marble counter with a decisive clonk when Geoff and the visitor walked in. This is just too goddamn beautiful, Geoff thought, surveying the scene, Man, I'm gonna have to do something special for this one. Maybe buy 'em some fireworks or, no, you know what? I'll get 'em the whole goddamn store!... "Well, if no one's gonna introduce themselves I guess I'll start," the man, who had for the last few seconds been impatiently shifting from foot to foot, cleared his throat, "Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier." 

 The crew members looked him up and down: from his pink- laced running sneakers to his pink and black leather jacket to his dark hair that fell to one side in a stylishly messy quiff. "Bloody well took your damn time gettin'ere din't you?" Gavin chided. "He sure did," responded Michael through smokey puffs. "Hey, hold on a second here," Jeremy held out his hand as if the Force was telling him something was off, "We aren't paying for just one ridiculously expensive criminal, so where's your friend, huh?" "Oh, don't worry, he'll be here. Honestly, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you," the smirk that had reemerged on Mark's face faded slightly when he noticed Ryan by the fire place. He turned to the bar, where Geoff had poured himself a glass of whiskey and motioned to Ryan with a nod of his head, "What's up with Skeletor over there? Not much of a talker, is he?" "He's probably still deciding whether or not he's going to kill you," Jack replied. "How will I know?" "You won't. But honestly, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you,” with that Jack shot Mark a pointed glance and took a disinterested swig of beer. "Riiiiiight...." Mark looked back at Ryan, who had turned his head slightly and stared back- his mask creating two endless pits of black void where his eyes would be. Mark felt an involuntary shiver creep up his spine and tried to look anywhere else. Luckily, a distracting crash followed by the sound of splintering wood and crumbling plaster erupted from the entryway. "See? What'd I tell you?" Mark's smile returned full force as he and the rest of the crew rushed out to check the damage. 

 "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?" Geoff was ranting, "I DISH OUT THE MONEY TO PAY YOU TWO SCHMUCKS AND NOW I GOTTA GET A NEW DOOR!? C'MON!" "Sorry, man, but you had this placed locked up like a high security prison'r somethin'!" A figure appeared from the wreckage, batting the dust off his torn-up denim vest with one gloved hand, and dragging his own duffel bag with the other. The crew could make out a sprig of green hair escaping from beneath his gray ivy cap. "You couldn't have just KNOCKED?" Geoff cried. "Oh... Yea coulda done that, couldn't I? the man said with a chuckle, “But you knew I was here didn't ya?!" He took a second to take in the astonished faces surrounding him, "Well, ain't this a fine group a'people ya got here? Top of the mornin' to ya laddies, my name is JackSepticeye! At your service!" He bowed dramatically low and nearly tripped on the shattered remains of the door, chuckling again, "Oh dear, this is gonna be a problem now in’it?”  "No shit Sherlock!" Michael snapped. Geoff pinched the bridge of his nose, he was still seething but took a breath, coming to terms with the absolute mess in front of him. The door was the least of his problems. "You know, I'm not getting paid enough to deal with shit like this right now, and neither are any of you until we get our hands on a whole shit load of money. So, here's what we're gonna do: we're gonna go in there, sit our asses down, and have a cozy fucking chat about what we need to do to make sure this heist goes fine and dandy and that we all go home alive and, more importantly, rich. Now who's coming with me?" The tensity in the room practically created sparks in the air, but as each person remembered their shared purpose the electricity dissipated into unsettled contentment. Glances passed between the crew members, to Mark and Jack, then back again. "JackSepticeye, huh?” Jeremy stepped forward, “I'd call you Jack, but as it happens that position’s already been filled." “Hey, no worries, man, you can just call me Sam if gets confusin' for ya." "Or we could just start calling Jack 'Mum'," Gavin chimed in. "Oooh, you got yourselves a Britt, I see. We aren’t gonna have a problem now are we, bro?" "Depends,” Gavin considered, “If you'll show me how to do that little door bit I think we'll get along excellently." "Man, I like this dude!" Jack offered a high-five which Gavin accepted, and the two began chatting excitedly. 

Mark felt a tap on his shoulder and wheeled around to see a black skull in a leather jacket standing uncomfortably close behind him. "Oh, uh, hey there buddy. Sorry about the whole... "Skeletor" thing earlier. Y’know I’ll bet you're actually a really nice guy under there." In response, Ryan carefully removed his mask, exposing piercing blue eyes, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and meticulously applied face paint. He fixed Mark with a cold stare, then looked down at the mask in his hands and scoffed, "I wouldn't go so far as to call myself nice, but I wouldn't kill you for no reason if that's any consolation." "I'll take the consolation prize if it means your less likely to kill me dead," "Yea, right. Besides, having a reason makes killing much more fun, really gets the blood pumping, you know?" "Haha... Yea uh... Totally." "Hey Ryan, quit harassing the new guy and give someone else a turn, will ya!" Michael cut in. "I wasn't harassing anyone!,” Ryan insisted, putting his hands up as if to plead innocence, “We were just having a pleasant conversation, weren't we Mark?" "Yep, no harassing going on over here! Just talking about killing...stuff,” he explained with a stiff thumbs up and a forced grin. "Well, while we're on the subject let me tell you about this one asshole I had to deal with the other day. Oh my god this guy was fucking annoying as shit!..." Eventually, the whole crew began mingling with their temporary additions rather successfully. The only fight that broke out was between Mark and Jeremy, but even that was fueled by friendly competition over who was the strongest proportionate to their height. Geoff and Jack watched like proud parents from the sidelines, marveling at the fact that the situation had deescalated without any broken bones. Somehow, the crew had found it within themselves to welcome these two into their ranks, if only for a few days. 

 And maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny sliver of a possibility that this whole thing would work out.

[cwnerd12]

Royal Council, Again

“Royal Council, Again” Morning light shines on David’s face. He opens his eyes, and sits up. He’s still in Jessie’s hotel room, in Reinhardt’s suit, on the sofa. Jessie sips coffee at the table. David, “Shit!” Jessie, “You fell asleep while we were talking last night, I didn’t want to wake you up.” David, “I have to get ready for Council!” He grabs his phone, “My phone’s almost dead!” Jessie, “You have two hours. You can still have breakfast with me.” David, “No, I really have to get going, Mom!” He gets up, goes over, and kisses her on the cheek, “I’ll see you later, okay?” Jessie grabs his wrist, “David, whatever happens today, just know that I’m proud of you. You’ve done nothing but honor your father and Eli, and I know they’d be so proud, too.” David, “I have to go.”

In the back of an SUV, Abby, wearing her uniform, shoves a protein bar into David’s hand. Abby, “Fucking eat something, you need to be as ready as possible.” Monique, in the front seat, turns, “Do not get crumbs on your uniform.” David awkwardly angles his head away from his chest and eats. Abby, “Did you at least sleep last night?” David, “Yes, I did.” Abby nods, “Good. Just remember, David, not only are you a better leader than Abner, you’ve fucking earned your right to sit at Council. You deserve to be king. That’s something Abner will never have.” David smiles sadly, “I think Michelle is gonna be there. I don’t know if they’ll let you talk to her.” Abby, quietly, “I’ve been trying not to think about that. I don’t know what I’ll do if I see Michelle but then can’t be with her.” She wipes her eyes. David, “I’ll do what I can.” Abby, “Whatever happens, happens. There’s a lot that’s riding on this council, and me seeing Michelle is just a fragment of all that. Try to keep your focus on what’s really important.” David, “I will.” Abby, “I believe in you, David. I’ve believed in you ever since I met you. It’s been an incredible honor to be at your side.” David, getting emotional, “Don’t say that shit right now. It’s hard enough to keep myself together without it.” Abby, “Okay. You’ll do great. Because you are great.” David, “Thanks, Abby.” The SUV approaches the palace. Crowds swell out front, waving countless AFG flags and signs of support for David. Abby, “Holy shit. You’d think you were already king.” David gawks at the crowd as the SUV pulls to a stop. Abby puts her hand over his, “You ready?” David nods, still awed by the size of the crowd. He undoes his seatbelt, opens the door, and gets out. The crowd roars and chants, “David! David! David!” In Jack’s hospital room, Helen sits beside him as they watch TV. Helen, “There he is!” Jack watches without saying anything. Helen, “He looks good in a uniform. No wonder you like him so much.” Back at the palace, Abby steps by David’s side. Up in the throne room, looking down, Michelle sees her, and clasps her hand over her mouth, her eyes full of tears. In a shitty hotel room, the Bros sit around, watching on a small TV. Ethan, “There’s our dumb baby brother. On TV. Again.” Sean, “Shut up, man.” David looks down at Abby, and she gives him a reassuring smile. Abby, “Let’s do this.” They begin to walk towards the door together. Cameras flash, and TV reporters yell, “General Shepherd! General Shepherd!” David simply waves and keeps going. He and Abby go inside the palace.

Inside, an employee gestures them to the elevators, “General Shepherd, this way, please.” In a waiting room, Abner talks to Kings Lawrence and John while Laura, Warner, and Anthony all talk to their advisors. David and Abby enter. Abner casts David a dirty look, but then pretends to ignore him. Laura goes up, “David! How are you?” She hugs him. David, “Still alive, I guess.” He looks over at Abner. Laura, “Just know that whatever happens, I’m squarely on your side. No one else is the rightful king of Gilboa but you.” David, “Thanks, Laura. Will you give me a minute?” He goes over to Abner, “Your highness, may I speak to you?” Abner casts him a suspicious look, and then says, “What do you want, Shepherd?” David, “I just want to say, whatever happens today, the most important thing here is Gilboa and its future.” He sticks out his hand, and Abner shakes it awkwardly. The door opens, and Gerald enters. For a moment David and Abner are united in giving Gerald their deadliest, most hateful looks.

The monarchs line up with their advisors beside them, David and Abby at the very end. Abby, “Just be yourself, David. You’re the one that everyone loves.” The doors open, and the monarchs begin the march into the ballroom, set up for Royal Council. The crowd stands and applauds. Everyone is divided into national contingencies, the flags of their nations hanging above them. The AFG contingency is a wall of solid blue. Monique, Asher, Shay, and Joel sit in their formal uniforms at the front. In the middle, Beth sits, nervously applauding. In the Gilboan contingency, Rose and Michelle, still wearing mourning black, clap, while Michelle struggles to keep from crying. Abby sees her, and smiles, tears in her eyes. Michelle puts her hand over her heart. In the Moabian contingency, Jessie applauds and cries with pride while Frankie hoots and fist-pumps. The monarchs gather around the table in their correct places. David stares down at his nameplate, General David Shepherd, Army of Free Gilboa. Emma stands at a podium, “Royal Council will come to order. When your name is called, please sit. King Lawrence Merritt of Edom.” King Lawrence sits. One by one, the monarchs are called out, each name earning polite applause: King John of Samaria, King Anthony of Aram, King Gerald of Gath, King Linus of Gilboa, Queen Laura of Moab, and finally, “General David Shepherd of the Army of Free Gilboa.” David steps forward. The crowd explodes into raucous applause. David sits down, and looks around at the crowd, heartened by the support. Abby looks around and smiles brightly. Abner scowls. He leans in to speak into his microphone, “That’s enough.” The applause comes to an abrupt, awkward end. Everyone stares at Abner. He goes on, “It is my privilege to invite my fellow monarchs, and General Shepherd, to Shiloh Royal Council today. Today, we gather to debate who is the rightful king of Gilboa, myself, or General Shepherd. The law here could not be more clear, a king has a right to declare a successor, and in his will, King Silas declared me his successor. I’m not as handsome or charming as General Shepherd, but I am very much the King of Gilboa.” The Gilboan contingency applauds, but Rose and Michelle don’t. Everyone looks at David. David takes in a deep breath, “I think the people of Gilboa couldn’t be more clear, they want me as their king.” The AFG contingency roars, and Michelle applauds. David smiles, “King Linus and I have both lead armies, but Linus only lead in King Silas’s footsteps. I’ve spent the past two years fighting and bleeding for Gilboa. When Silas and Linus refused to acknowledge the Amalekites, I dedicated myself and my army to fighting them,” he raises his broken hand, “I got this beating Alek Amal’s face in.” Shouts of support from the AFG. David grins, confident, “When it was clear that the Amalekites were the greatest threat to Gilboa, I put aside my differences with Silas and united our armies to fight them. Because of this, we saved hundreds of lives at the Western Mall. When Gath tried to invade Gilboa, our armies again united, and we stopped the invasion. I’ve survived things that by all accounts, should have killed me. I’ve lost dear friends, both when they died and when they turned against me. Even facing horrific loss after horrific loss, I’ve kept fighting, because I believe in what I’m fighting for: A peaceful future. A free Gilboa. I believe I’ve earned its crown.” Sustained applause from all of the crowd. Jessie beams with pride. Warner, “I cannot abide a homosexual as king.” Boos from the crowd. David, “With all due respect sir, if I may correct you, I’m bisexual. To be honest, I really don’t like labels, although, I am somewhat partial to the Japanese euphemism, ryototsukai. It means one who wields two swords.” Warner, “A bisexual can’t lead an army.” David, “Were you home sick from school the day they taught about Alexander the Great?” Laughter. Warner shoots him a look, “And where did you learn this bisexuality?” David, “At the Dietrich-Brando Institute of Bisexual Arts.” Warner, “You’re just gay.” David, “Your mom didn’t think I was just gay.” Abby’s eyes widen in shock and horror as the crowd erupts with laughter and cheers. Frankie hoots, “Shit, son!” David suppresses a smirk. “His sexuality is irrelevant, Warner.” Warner, “It’s not irrelevant when a leader lies about the sort of person he is.” David, “I’ve never lied.” Warner, “And what about your relationship with Jack Benjamin?” David grows more serious, “I never denied being in a relationship with Jack. Everyone close to us and in the AFG knew about us. But we made the decision to be discrete so that no one would try to hurt me by hurting Jack.” Warner smirks, “And that’s exactly what happened, isn’t it.” David determinedly doesn’t look at Gerald. Gerald, “I will say that when I shot the prince, I only intended to hurt Silas. Any additional hurt was… incidental.” David clenches his teeth and  fists, struggling to keep the burning fury within himself. Abner gives Gerald a hateful stare. Rose struggles to swallow her disgust, and Michelle jumps to her feet. Rose grabs her wrist and tries to pull her to sit back down, but Michelle resists. Abby looks on, struggling not to cry. Finally, Michelle gives in and sits back down. John, “I don’t understand everything that’s happened. What is your story, General Shepherd?” David, “Uh, are you willing to sit here for a while? If you want the full story, I’m going to need some help,” he turns back to Abby, “You want to help, Abby?” he turns over and looks at the AFG, “I’m gonna need my officers, and uh, Princess Michelle should probably come down here, too.” Abner, “They will stay where they are seated.” John, “Where did this all begin?” David, “With the tank, I guess.” John, “What inspired you to go against orders, facing a court-martial, risking not only your life but the lives of the two captive soldiers you were after, and the lives of those in your camp?” David, “Well, my mom will tell you that I’ve always been an idiot, but, I knew what was going to happen to those soldiers if someone didn’t intervene quickly, and, even though at the time, they were just two strangers, I couldn’t stand doing nothing. Unlike King Linus, who during his time as a soldier was perfectly content to let King Silas do all the heroics, I decided to do the right thing. I did something incredibly stupid, and nothing since then has been the same.” John, “Is that when you fell in love?” David blushes slightly, “I- I knew about Prince Jack beforehand, I knew his reputation and the image he projected. The soldier I met that night was someone very different, someone that I don’t think many people ever were allowed to see. He said his name was Jack, and he was from Shiloh, and that he was going to be king when he left the army…” he pauses, “I guess I should have picked up on something there,” soft laughter, “But I didn’t realize who he was until King Silas entered the tent, and walked right past me when I tried to introduce myself. For a while I thought that the person I saw didn’t really exist, but, he came back. And I knew when I saw him again that I was in love with him.” In his hospital room, Jack cries. Abner, smugly, “Has it been difficult, being separated from him?” David, “The worst six months of my life.” Abner, “What would you be willing to sacrifice to see him again?” David, “I’m not capitulating to you. I still have support.” Abner, “So you would be willing to walk out of here, not being able to see him again, if it meant taking the moral high ground and insisting that you are the rightful king?” David, “If I have to, I will continue to fight, and I know that nobody here believes that you’re a good king.” A roar from the crowd. Laura, “My support goes to General Shepherd.” Anthony, “As does mine.” Lawrence, “You must admit, Linus, General Shepherd has shown exemplary skill in leading his army.” Abner, “Was he skilled when he killed Alek Amal and set off thirty bombs across Shiloh?” David, “I had no way of knowing that would happen.” Abner, “Alek Amal was the master of laying traps, how could you not think he wouldn’t have a trap laid for you?” David, “I thought it would be a trap for me, not innocent people. And I, at least, was actually trying to stop Amal. If I had done like you and ignored him, he’d still be killing people.” Applause. Abner scowls, “You aren’t as skilled a leader as you pretend to be, and you aren’t as morally righteous, either. Tell everyone about the execution of Douglas Ericsson.” David, “Doug was a traitor who caused the death of eighty-six people, and whose continued treachery forced the AFG to go into Ammon.” Abner, “Is that what you tell your mother? Do you always leave out the fact that he was a friend of yours?” David, “He was a traitor, and he had to be executed.” Abner, “Executed by you?” David, “It had to be done.” Gerald speaks up, “Gath is at war with Gilboa. What are each of you going to do about this?” Abner, “You killed my king and my best friend-” Gerald, “He killed himself.” Abner, “I am going to destroy Gath. It’s the only option I see.” Gerald looks at David. David, “I’ll be honest, I want to do the same. I want to bomb Ashdod into oblivion and then mount your skull in my office. But I’m not going to do that. You are not the people of Gath, and the people of Gath don’t deserve to suffer because of what you did. I set out to end the perpetual wars that Gilboa finds itself locked in, and I still mean that. I intend to settle peacefully with both Gath and Ammon.” Lawrence, “I’ll admit, General, you have proven yourself as a leader. But the law is the law. I’m afraid that I must support King Linus here.” John, “I concur.” Warner, “I concur.” Gerald, “I concur.” David, “You said I was king! You shot Jack, Silas killed himself, and then you looked straight at me, and you said, ‘You’re king!’” Gerald, “I didn’t realize that Linus had been chosen as successor.” Abner, “Supporting a rebel like Shepherd undermines all of our crowns! If Shepherd becomes king, what will happen next? Will there be insurrections in Ammon? In Aram? In Edom? If Silas can be overthrown, any one of you can be overthrown!” Anthony looks from Abner to David nervously, “As much as I like you, David, I must concur that Linus is king.” Laura, “You come from a stable country, Anthony. Every day, I wake up and face numerous groups that are trying to overthrow me. Gerald and Warner both do, too. David may stop fighting, but others will come for Linus. Because the people want what David wants. They want peace, and they want freedom, and they are willing to fight and die for it. Do you know how I’ve kept the peace in Moab? I listen to my people. I respect them. I honor them. And because of that, my people support me. Because I know where my people’s support lies, I am not afraid of being overthrown. I know that I am loved. David is loved. And love is always stronger than fear. And so I object. And I will not back down. David is the rightful king!” Applause from the AFG. Warner, “Are you going to keep us here all night, then?” Laura, “You only support Linus because you want Gilboa to collapse! You want to spread your twisted version of Christianity across the world, and you know you can defeat Linus, but not David! I ask my fellow monarchs, what will become of your countries if Gilboa collapses?! Linus may have the law on his side, but when it comes to who is the right leader, the answer is overwhelmingly David!” Abner, “I am not incompetent! For twenty-five years, I led Silas’s army, and I led it well! Silas was a smart enough leader to know that nepotism would only hurt him! He never would have appointed me General if he didn’t believe I was a capable leader!” Laura, “You try so hard to be Silas, but what did he ever do for Gilboa? If he was as great a leader as you say, they wouldn’t be burning his effigy in front of his own palace.” Abner, “You cunt!” Boos and hisses from the crowd. David, “For the record, I would never use that kind of language against a woman.” Applause. Laura, “You will never have my support, Linus. I will sit here until I pass out.” Abner, “If Shepherd agreed to something, would you support him?” Laura, “David will never support you.” Abner looks at David, “How’s your mental health, Shepherd?” David, “What?” Abner, “You’ve been fighting  this war for a long time. I know what kind of effect it has on soldiers. Do you sleep well during thunderstorms?” David bristles, “I’ve been seeing a doctor who diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder and depression. I actually rather resent the implication that being affected by mental illness makes me somehow weak or unfit to lead. This sort of stigma only encourages brave, good soldiers to avoid treatment and does incredible amounts of harm. Depression and PTSD, well, quite frankly, they suck, but they’re treatable. I’ve been treating mine, and I remain strong and willing to fight.” Abner, “Do you have nightmares?” David, gritting his teeth, “Yes.” Abner, “Have you ever been suicidal?” David, “There was a moment after Jack was shot and you announced your kingship, but… it passed. And I had people looking out for me.” Abner, “If you’re already traumatized, why keep adding to it? How much longer can you fight? How many more battles are in you? How many friends are you willing to lose? You must be tired.” David, “I will keep fighting as long as I have to.” Abner, “You say you want to negotiate peace with Gath. That means long, exhausting hours spent face-to-face with that man,” he points to Gerald, “You watched him shoot the person you love more than anything else. Aren’t flashbacks to traumatic events a part of PTSD?” David keeps his gaze away from Gerald. Abner, “Look into his face right now, and tell me what you see.” David raises his gaze. Abner, “Do you see him shooting Jack? Do you hear the gunshot? Do you feel to cold air of Mt. Gilboa? Can you smell the blood?” David, “I don’t understand how you can look at his face and not see the face of the man who sought to kill your king and best friend.” Abner, “Oh, I do. Believe me, I do. And I don’t kid myself. I know he’ll never agree to peace, he’ll only try to hurt me if I give him the chance. Do I don’t give him the chance. You have your ideals, Shepherd, but I’ve watched first-hand what it takes to be king, and I know what the world is really like. Sometimes, you do what you have to do, even if it means execution. Do you want to be king, David? Do you really want to be king? Have you ever really wanted to be king?” David, “If this were solely about what I want, Jack and I would be living in a beach condo in Moab. This is not about me, and it never has been. It’s about my brother, Eli. And my father. And Reverend Ephraim Samuels, and Leo and Nora Levinson, and Isaiah Clemens, and everyone who died because King Silas did nothing to stop the Amalekites, and all the names in files in the MSS building, and all the loved ones who have spent years wondering what happened. This is about something much larger than myself, and what I want is completely irrelevant.” Abner stares straight at David, “I will let you see Jack.” Absolute silence in the room. Everyone hangs in suspense. David stares at Abner. Abner, “Council is on my side, David. You’ve lost. If you continue to disagree, you will walk out of here, and never see Jack again. If you concur with the council, and agree to stop fighting, I will let you see him.” David sits without saying anything. Michelle has tears in her eyes. Jack clutches Helen’s hand. Abner, “You don’t even know what condition he’s in do you?” David stares at Abner, “No.” Abner he looks at the other monarchs, “I’ve deliberately withheld any update on the prince’s condition, for a moment like this. Brain injuries, as you must know, can completely destroy a person’s mind. People with brain injuries often can’t speak, can’t walk, lose their memories, don’t recognize the ones they love.  They are left an empty body with no mind at all,” he looks at David, “You don’t want Jack to be left all alone like that, do you?” David, his voice wavering, “He’s not like that. He’s doing well, that’s why you’ve withheld any announcement about him, you don’t want to give me hope.” Abner, annoyed, “Jack woke up five days after he was shot, late in the evening. I believe his sister was there with him at the time. He recognized her and was able to squeeze her hand. At first, he couldn’t speak, and he could barely move. He couldn’t even hold his head up. Since then, he has progressed well. He has regained a few words. He’s almost able to stand on his own. He asks for you, David.” Tears fall down David’s cheeks. Jack, softly, “No, no, no.” Abby and Michelle exchange nervous glances. Abner, “Brain injuries like Jack’s take highly intensive therapy, and still, they take years to recover from. Jack has and incredibly long and difficult road in front of him. He needs you, David.” David shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, “I want amnesty. Complete, unconditional amnesty for anyone involved with the AFG.” Laura, “David, no.” David, “And there has to be reform. Things can’t go on like they did under Silas.” Abner, smiling smugly, “I can agree to that.” David, “Then I concur.” Jack, “No!” Laura has tears in her eyes, “David!” He looks at her, “Laura, please.” Laura puts her hand over her mouth. Shay, Joel, Monique, and Asher all exchange tense looks. Laura sniffs, “Fine. I concur.”Emma rushes up to the podium, “With this agreement, Royal Council is hereby concluded.” Abner jumps to his feet, “I thank you, fellow monarchs!” He vigorously begins shaking hands. Abby rushes up to David, “What the fuck?! David!” David, quietly, “Go be with Michelle, Abby.” Abby looks at Michelle, who cries. Abby, “David…” David, “Go be with Michelle.” He stands up, “I want to see Jack! Bring me to Jack right now!” Abner, “He’s just at the hospital. Go see him.” David turns around and begins marching towards the exit. Beth sobs uncontrollably. Abby looks from David to Michelle, back to David, back to Michelle, and then runs towards her. Michelle runs toward Abby, and they tearfully embrace. Shay, Monique, and Asher sit stunned while Joel hangs his head.

(“Sky Full of Song” Florence + The Machine) David, minus his jacket and tie, barges into the waiting room of the hospital, where Dr. Hussein waits for him. Dr. Hussein, “General Shepherd.” David, “Where is Jack?” Dr. Hussein, “Before I take you to him, I should prepare you-” David, “I want to see Jack!” Dr. Hussein, “He had surgery about a week ago, so his head is still bandaged. His speech is very limited-” David, “Please, please, just take me to Jack!” Dr Hussein, “All right, follow me.” Cut to: Dr. Hussein opens Jack’s door. and David rushes in, “Jack!” He sees Jack, sitting in his bed. Jack, “David! No!” David rushes over and hugs him and kisses him, crying uncontrollably, “Jack, Jack…” Jack, crying too, “No, no, no.” David, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He looks Jack in the eye, “I’m tired of fighting. I’m so fucking tired.” Jack struggles to say a word, and finally blurts out, “King!” David, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Jack, “King David!” David, “That’s not going to happen, Jack.” Jack, “No!” David kisses him again and again, “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” Jack, “David, David…” In her room at the palace, Michelle and Abby passionately make love. Rose fixes herself a drink, the portrait of Silas looking over her shoulder. In her room, Helen looks at a picture of Seth and Silas. In front of the palace, Asher, Shay, Joel, and Monique all stand dejectedly. Joel, “So what now?” Shay, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Monique, “I think we’re supposed to just live our lives.” Joel, “That’s bullshit.” Monique, “I’m going back to the MSS building. I’m hungry. They should have dinner ready soon.” Asher, “You guys go there without me. I need to go somewhere.” At a bus station, Beth buys a ticket, “One for Menasseh, please.” In the palace ballroom, Abner laughs with Lawrence, John, Warner, and Gerald. Anthony stands by them without really joining their conversation. Laura cries in the back of her limo. David carefully lifts the edge of Jack’s bandage, revealing the bullet scar on his forehead. David, “You have a scar.” He shuts his eyes and kisses it. He looks into Jack’s eyes, “I can’t tell you how badly I’ve wanted to see your face with a scar instead of a wound.” Jack buries his face into David’s neck, and David caresses his cheek. Abby and Michelle lay in each other’s arms, looking into each other’s eyes. Abby, “I’ve missed you so much.” Michelle, “I know.” Abby, “I love you.” Michelle, “I love you, too.” Rose sits on a sofa and looks up at Silas’s portrait, a glass of scotch in her hand. She knocks back the last of it and sets it on a table. She cries bitterly. Abner and Emma host the other kings and their queens at the traditional post-Council dinner. Laura’s seat is conspicuously empty. Jack lays on David’s shoulder while David holds him. Beth boards a bus marked Menasseh. She sits down in her seat, very much alone. Outside the MSS building, AFG soldiers and citizens gather, holding candles. Joel, Shay, and Monique arrive and get out of their car. They look at the vigil gathering, the flowers set at the memorial wall. Up in his office, Reinhardt looks down at it all. Asher sits in an empty synagogue and prays. David speaks to Jack, “I have to tell you, I- I slept with a girl. I-” Jack claps his hand over David’s mouth. Jack looks up at him angrily for a moment, but can’t sustain it. He moves his hand away and kisses David forgivingly. David, “I’m so sorry.” Street lights shine over Beth’s face as the bus travels down the highway. The tears on her face sparkle. Abby and Michelle sit on a sofa, looking at the news. Helen watches the news. Emma watches the news. Jessie watches the news. A reporter reports from the now massive vigil in front of the MSS building. Joel, Shay, and Monique stand at the top of the stairs. Joel raises his fist, and others raise their fists with him. Asher sits in contemplation. David and Jack lay together, peaceful and quiet. The door opens, and Rose walks in. David stands up. Rose stares at him for a long moment, and then steps forward and hugs him. Awkwardly, David hugs her back. Rose looks at Jack over his shoulder. Rose, “You’d better take good care of him.” David, “I will.”