#“so i dropped to my knees right here...i scooped dirt into my mouth.. ate until i vomited.”

[todd-queen]

locked tomb and hannibal brain rot the intimacy of eating another person. physically spiritually metaphorically to consume someone wholly or in pieces. knowing or choosing to forget/overlook eating another human being. hannibal feeding his friends the people he's killed while psychologically eating them by destroying their lives. john watching all of his friends eat their very best friends after he resurrected them without them knowing and made himself their god. griddle begging harrow to eat her vs hannibal feeding gideon to himself. corona being spared by her sister and seeing herself as a meal refused. hannibal who does not honor every part but makes lavish feasts of what little he does take. will bringing hannibal fish to cook for dinner to show the power he has over him 'it was my turn to provide the meat.' alecto 'this is how meat loves meat.'

maybe this makes no sense but I wake up every day thinking about all these metaphysical, and literal, cannibals and I just had to get this out

[youweremyridehome]

So I dropped to my knees here, right... I scooped dirt into my mouth... ate until I vomited. I gathered up the bloody earth... I realised you were too much for me. /../ I ripped half my ribs from my body and made you from the dirt, my blood, my vomit, my bone. /.../ I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of.

"What have you done to me? I am a hideousness."

TLT Holiday Exchange gift for SunnySepulchre

[ossifer]

perfect lyctorhood was coined by mercymorn.

“You lied to us, John,” she said. And, with a sob in her voice: “There is a perfect Lyctorhood … a perfect Lyctor process that preserves the cavalier, and you let us think there wasn’t. You let us think we’d cracked it … You let us think it had to be a one-way energy transfer … but nobody had to die. Alfred, Pyrrha, Titania, Valancy, Nigella, Samael, Loveday, Cristabel … You watched us kill our cavaliers in cold blood, and none of them had to die. You had already done it yourself. But you had done it perfectly!!”

you cannot separate the concept of lyctorhood from john and alecto, or even the concept of necromancer and cavalier—both concepts originated with john and alecto. in fact, lyctorhood was conceived as an emulation of their bond: “You let us think we’d cracked it [...] You had already done it yourself. But you had done it perfectly!!” “Then, when the disciples come to you and say the word Lyctor, she does not understand that they want the thing you did to her—she watches as you watch … watch them misunderstand the process.”

in practice it was an imperfect and misunderstood imitation. one that was imperfect because john lied, because he needed his loved ones to be something he could touch—“needed them to be my hands … my fingers”—and from that lie came his saints, the emperor's fists and gestures. it is flawed, an imperfect copy—mercymorn says that john and alecto's bond is an example of perfect lyctorhood, that he'd done it 'perfectly'.

He said, I took you into myself and we became one. He said, meditatively, I mean, I tried. There was so much of you—you weren’t the small, stained soul of a normal human being. You were so much bigger than that. I opened my mouth and tried to cram you inside … you didn’t fit. [...] He said, So I dropped to my knees here, right … I scooped dirt into my mouth … ate until I vomited. I gathered up the bloody earth … I realised you were too much for me. This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take. [...] He said, From my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done.

perfection is trying to fit something inside yourself you can't, choking the earth and cramming it in your mouth, then realising you can't so you devise a labyrinth to trap 'her' within. john says the human instinct is to take—and necromancy takes. it runs on death.

paul—the product of “something very nearly perfect … the perfect friendship, the perfect love”, conceived of as true lyctorhood, “a gravitational singularity creating something new”—is born of a mutual death. their birth is not an ideal thing, per palamedes: “I am saying we have found the best and truest and kindest thing we can do in this moment.”

what is lyctorhood? the joining of a necromancer and cavalier. one flesh, one end. “one flesh, one end” was conceived of by two people who died because of john's lie—died in pursuit of emulating his and alecto's example.

the necromancer and cavalier relationship—descended from john and alecto's example—hinges on an inequality between the two, one that is hegemonically enforced. the cavalier as the protector, the attendant, the lyctoral power source and defense mechanism.

i don't understand—how can something be perfect when it is tied to this? when it is descended from the man who believes the human instinct is to take, who conjured a labyrinth to trap the earth within? how can any lyctorhood be perfect or true, when even paul's example relies on death?

perfect lyctorhood was coined by mercymorn: the second saint to serve the king undying, lied to by john, and implicitly coerced into ascension via a suicide pact formed by cristabel and alfred. lyctorhood was conceived of as an emulation of john and alecto's bond. perfect lyctorhood is a perfect recreation of that—a lyctoral process that preserves the cavalier.

the perfect in perfect lyctorhood stands for putting your hands around the neck of the earth, choking on it, and then trapping it in a labyrinth hewn from your own blood, bone, and vomit.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Ooh, the question of how much control John has over Alecto's body is fascinating...

I don't think Alecto's body is all John though:

I dropped to my knees—here, I believe. He strode forward.

She saw what he was pointing at: a pile of grassless dirt.

He said, So I dropped to my knees here, right … I scooped dirt into my mouth … ate until I vomited. I gathered up the bloody earth … I realised you were too much for me. This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take. When you burn your thumb, you stick it in your mouth, right? And there was still too much of me that was just a human being …

He said, I didn’t stick my thumb in my mouth. Had more sense than that. Fuck knows what would’ve happened if I tried to absorb you all the way; I probably would’ve burnt to death. But I needed a house to put you in, if I wasn’t going to put all of you in me. I made you one on the fly … I wasn’t even thinking … I ripped half my ribs from my body and made you from the dirt, my blood, my vomit, my bone.

While the creation of a body from dirt is clearly also riffing on the creation of man in Genesis, in classical mythology dirt and rocks are the flesh and bones of Gaia, the earth.

So it's significant that in lysis with Alecto John consumes dirt, and that dirt is used in the creation of her body.

John has physically consumed some of Alecto's flesh, and her awful Barbie body was in part formed from her own former flesh.

If Alecto’s body is made of John’s, what power does he have over her? Is that how he managed to entomb her in the first place? Because we know from the soup incident harrow was only able to get inside another Lyctor’s body with her own cells. So imagine John making her a body was not only an act of desperation but also ended up giving him even more control?

Can John sense Alecto? Is that how she knew how to find him in the epilogue? Is that how he put her to sleep? I have so many questions!

[dapurinthos]

He said, So I dropped to my knees here, right … I scooped dirt into my mouth … ate until I vomited. I gathered up the bloody earth … I realised you were too much for me. This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take.When you burn your thumb, you stick it in your mouth, right? And there was still too much of me that was just a human being …

He said, I didn’t stick my thumb in my mouth. Had more sense than that. Fuck knows what would’ve happened if I tried to absorb you all the way; I probably would’ve burnt to death. But I needed a house to put you in, if I wasn’t going to put all of you in me. I made you one on the fly … I wasn’t even thinking … I ripped half my ribs from my body and made you from the dirt, my blood, my vomit, my bone.

He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left … a handful of things that made me me … a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking … I didn’t do it

He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you … I hid you in me. And when we were together … once the shaman had claimed the sun … I became God.

- Nona the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 2 - 15

This is a series. Start here, continued from here. 

This is a sequel series to Honor Bound. 

AO3

Cw: death mention, lashing out at a (platonic) significant other, brief mention of parental death, blink-and-you’ll miss it mention of child abuse, dissoci@tion, past noncon mention, brief mis-gendering (Vera calls everyone ‘sir’ when she’s under)

Gavin was less than happy about the sleeping arrangements, and everyone was happy about that. Vera couldn’t help but smirk every time she glanced Gavin’s way. His hands were zip-tied in front of him now, a rope passing through the space between his wrists and around his chest, tying him against a tree. His ankles had been zip-tied together as well. He had an almost permanent look of dejection that made him look more petulant than menacing. It amused Vera to no end.

“What’s the matter, bitch boy?” she snickered. “You uncomfortable?”

“For your fucking information, yes,” he snapped, the corners of his mouth turning down in a pout.

“My heart breaks for you. Truly. It does.��� Vera chuckled and turned back to her can of hot soup, warmed over the fire they’d made. Tori huddled closer against her side and munched on the bit of jerky she held tight in her hand. She was turned completely away from Gavin, keeping her back to him as she ate.

Vera pursed her lips. That’s how I know she’s not a fighter. She doesn’t need to keep her eye on him. She dug her spoon into the can and fished around for chunks of meat among the vegetables. She scooped up a bite and offered it to Tori. She took it gratefully and nuzzled into Vera’s shoulder.

Isaac sat immediately opposite Gavin across the fire with his eyes fixed on their captive. Isaac hadn’t been able to take his eyes off him since Ellis had tied him to the tree, staring him down as they did it. “Honestly, I hope you try to escape,” they’d hissed at him. “Give us a reason to fuck you up.” Gavin had glared up at them, but had held still as they’d tied him up. Ellis had looked almost disappointed as they’d tightened the last knot.

Sam bumped Isaac’s shoulder with theirs, pulling him out of his reverie. “Hey,” they whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Isaac’s jaw was tight. “I’m fine.”

“We’ll reach the north.” Sam’s eyes were boring into his as they said it. “We’ll reach the north and then… We’ll be okay. We’ll have time to rest. You can… You can get better…”

“I’m fine,” Isaac grumbled. He looked up to see Sam’s eyebrow cocked at him in an expression of dubious amusement. “I mean…”

“Why can’t you just…” Sam licked their lips.

Isaac bristled. “Get over it?”

“Forgive yourself,” Sam finished.

Isaac’s shoulders slumped. “Sam, I –”

They put their own can of soup down. “I didn’t mean get over it. I didn’t say that. I would never say that. I mean…” They wrapped their arm around Isaac’s as it rested on his knee. “Those things you said. About liking hurting him.” They threw a glance at Gavin, who was staring at them both with an unreadable expression. “I think… I think it’s okay to like it. He hurt you, Isaac. Really…” They closed their eyes for a moment, steadying their voice. “…really badly. And he can’t fix that. But I think it’s okay to…” They bit their lip. “To enjoy hurting someone who hurt you, at least a little bit.”

Isaac looked at them, tears welling in his eyes at the look of trust in theirs. “Would you like it?”

Sam chewed their lip. “I… I don’t know.”

Isaac waved a hand in Gavin’s direction. “Go try it,” he said bitterly. “Go try it and tell me it feels good. That you like it.” He pressed his face into his hands. “Tell me you’re just like me. Just like him.”

Sam looked over at Gavin where he sat tied to the tree. He was straining forward like he was trying to hear what Isaac was saying. They looked back to Isaac. Tears were leaking down his hands and wrists. They put a hand on his shoulder. “Isaac…”

He shrugged them off and stood. Without a word he turned and stalked off into the forest.

Sam jumped up and followed him, nearly having to run to catch up to him. “Isaac,” they hissed. He didn’t stop. “Isaac, wait…” They lunged forward and grabbed his arm, yanking him around to face them. Furious tears were running down his face.

“How can you not see this?” Isaac snapped at them, his eyes blazing with bitter rage. “How can you not see that I… Sam, you’re so goddamned naïve sometimes, you can’t even see that I…” His hands went up to his hair and pulled. “…I’m no fucking good for you…”

Sam stopped dead and their mouth dropped open. “…what?”

Isaac paced in front of them, his voice so tight with tears he could barely get the words out. “You’re so trusting, you’re so good, you can’t even see what’s right in front of your face…” He sobbed. “How can you not see that I’m… I’m just like him? He hurt you, Sam, he tortured you for… for sixty-three fucking hours, and I thought I could protect you, I thought I could be good enough for you but this whole time I was… a monster just like him…”

“Isaac, stop –”

“I can pretend to be better but fact is when I had him pinned, when I…” He shuddered. “When I had his knife to his throat, I… I felt it, I knew exactly what it was, I liked it. I liked his pain. There’s no difference between… between what I am, and what he is…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “And after everything you’ve been through, how could I… How could I subject you to… to me…” He whimpered and pressed his fists against his eyes. “I want to protect you, god I want to protect you, but I can’t protect you from me! How can you want to be around me? How can you even… look at me right now?” He fell to his knees and sobbed.

Sam was crying. “Isaac, please…”

“I don’t care what Gray says about… about Gavin being around bringing all this up. I don’t care what they say about it. It’s been six months and I… I should be over this… I should be better, I shouldn’t want to… want to hurt him so much… but it’s all I want. I want to just… destroy him. I want to grind him out of existence so he can never hurt me again… So he can never hurt you… But wanting that doesn’t make me good. Ever since he showed up I just feel so… so…” His voice cracked as he wailed. “Weak!”

Sam’s hands pulled into fists as they stared down at Isaac, their chest heaving with angry sobs. “I get it,” they whispered, their voice seething with quiet fury. Isaac’s head snapped up to meet their eyes. They trembled with the effort of keeping their voice even. “I get it. I can be weak but you can’t because… what? I’m already weak? Because I’m somehow less capable of being strong like… like you?” Isaac trembled at the sound of tightly packed rage in their voice. Tears streamed down their face. “I can break, I can betray you, betray myself, but that’s fine, no problem, because I’m already broken?”

Isaac reached out his hands to them. “Sam, no… I…”

“Shut up, Isaac,” they hissed, shaking. “Just shut up and listen to me, for once.” They sniffled. “You’re so committed to hating yourself, so committed to punishing yourself for breaking, you’ll ignore everything we say, everything we tell you… You know seeing Gavin again brought this all up. You know it’s making you scared, and you’re taking it out on me…” They gasped and tried to catch their breath. “Of course you like hurting him, Isaac. He tortured me. He tortured you. He nearly killed you, nearly killed Gray. He hurt every single person you care about. You think I don’t like the idea of him getting justice for what he’s done? You think I haven’t thought of revenge, even a little bit?” Isaac’s eyes went wide. “Of course I have. I’m not naïve, I know you want to hurt him. I’d be confused if you didn’t. But it’s just… one more thing, isn’t it? One more excuse to hate yourself. And you’d… you’d push me away, just to punish yourself for it…” They swallowed hard and their voice dropped to a whisper. “Is that why you love me? So you can… you can hold me up as this… angel, this perfect person, and hate yourself for being… unworthy of me?” A sob rocked their chest. “Is that all I am to you?”

Isaac stared up at them from where he was kneeling in the dirt, the knees of his pants getting cold and wet. His throat worked as he held down his sobs. “Sam,” he whispered. “No. That’s not… I swear to god, it’s not… Please…”

“Then tell me what it is!” they wailed at him.

Isaac collapsed.

Sam stood rigid in front of him, tears coursing down their face as they watched Isaac weep into the cold ground. He bent forward at the waist until he was prostrate in front of them and heaved with sobs, pressing his face into his hands. Sam kept their hands squeezed into fists as they fought the urge to go to him, wrap him up in their arms, hold him… I won’t touch him. I won’t touch him if that’s all I am to him.

“I’m so sorry,” Isaac sobbed into the dirt. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

Their voice wavered. “Sorry for what?”

He shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t love you so I can hate myself,” he whimpered. “I love you because you’re good, and I’m happy when I’m around you. I don’t want you to go. Please…” He pushed himself back up to his knees. “Please don’t go, Sam, I’m sorry, I don’t…” He pressed his shaking hands to his face. “I don’t know what’s… what’s wrong with me…” He shuddered against the ground. “I just feel so scared,” he whispered. “All the time. Scared that you… you’ll leave me, that you’ll figure out I’m just darkness on the inside and run…” He looked back in the direction of the camp. “That you all will. That one day you’ll all figure out I’m weak, that I’m nothing, that you’d be better off without me…” He cringed down, away from Sam’s gaze. “I don’t know why, I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s just… in me all the time, and when I see him, when I remember all the things he did to me, all the things you watched him do…” He whimpered. “It just gets so much worse. And I don’t feel… safe… I just feel like that moment is so much closer. That moment when you all walk away.”

Sam watched him for a long time. Long enough that Isaac started to shiver in the cold. But he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare get up from his place kneeling at Sam’s feet.

He knows he hurt me. Sam wet their lips. “I… I’m not going to walk away.”

Isaac crumpled again. He pressed his hand against his mouth and tried to quiet his sobs.

Sam knelt in front of him and guided his face up with one hand. “Isaac…?”

He drew in a shaking breath. “Yeah…?”

Sam pressed their lips together. “Don’t ever, ever do that again. Don’t ever say you don’t want me to be in your life unless you really mean it.”

Isaac slumped forward. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to go. I just felt…”

“I know.” Sam brushed the tears away from his face. “But it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Isaac met Sam’s eyes. “Can I do anything to make it better?”

Sam leaned back, tears still moving slowly down their face. “Just… give me some space, okay? Just for a little while.”

“Okay.” Isaac nodded. “I promise. I will. Tell me when you’re, um… ready to talk to me again.”

“I will.” Sam tilted their head. “What can I do to make you believe I won’t leave you?”

Isaac bit his lip, a fresh cascade of tears rolling down his cheeks. “Um… just… don’t leave, I guess.”

Sam’s eyes bored into him. “…has someone left you before?”

Isaac’s breath came punching out of him in a strangled moan. “Ah. Um…” Gavin knows all this. Maybe you should, too. “Um. My uh… my d-dad. And mom, kinda. And… my… the family I had bef-fore you…” His lips were trembling.

Sam finally pulled him into their embrace. “Oh.” His arms came around them and squeezed until it hurt.

“Uh…” A bitter, twisted laugh left his throat. “Yeah.”

Sam’s hand squeezed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

He sniffled. “Yeah. Me too.”

“…I still need a little time.”

Isaac pulled away and wiped his face. “Of course. Yeah. Take all the time you need.” They stayed there together in the dark for a moment.

“Isaac! Sam!”

Isaac’s head snapped up. “That’s Gray.” He staggered to his feet and pulled Sam up beside him. “Shit…” They jogged back to the camp.

Gray met them at the edge of the circle of light thrown by the campfire. They looked weary. Intense.

“Gray?” Isaac’s voice was approaching the edge of panic. “What’s going on?” His eyes moved past them to Vera, huddled by the fire. She was on her knees. “No…”

Gray nodded. “It’s Vera. She’s there again. Gavin –”

Isaac was already moving towards her. “Gavin what?” he snarled.

“I don’t think he even meant to.” Gray’s voice was pitched low. “He was giving Vera attitude and… called her sweetheart…”

Isaac turned and descended on Gavin.

“No!” Gavin squeaked, twisting as far away from Isaac as he could. “No no no no no fuck please I didn’t mean to!”

Isaac grabbed the front of Gavin’s shirt and pulled his fist back. “The fuck you mean you didn’t mean to,” he growled.

“No no no Jesus Christ,” Gavin babbled. “I didn’t know that was a thing, I swear to god I didn’t, I didn’t know that would do that to her I swear…”

Isaac shoved him back against the tree with both hands locked in his shirt. Gavin grunted at the impact. “You thought you’d just call her what your piece of shit rapist father called her when he –”

“He didn’t… rape…” Gavin’s eyes were pulled wide as Isaac slammed him harder against the tree.

“Yes he fucking did,” Isaac roared in his face. “He did, and he called it making her good.” Gavin cried out as Isaac slammed him back again. “What the fuck did you think he was going to have you do to her once he had her and Tori? You thought he’d stop then?”

“I didn’t… no…” Gavin looked pale.

“You thought that wouldn’t be part of it? Are you that fucking stupid?”

“No!” he cried. “I’m… I’m not a sexual sadist!”

Isaac’s mouth fell open. “…are you fucking kidding? You think that matters to me? You think –”

“I didn’t mean it, I swear,” Gavin sobbed. “Please… I’m sorry…” He tried to look around Isaac at Vera. “Tell her I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Isaac threw Gavin back against the tree. “If you ever call her that again, I’m going to kill you,” he snarled at him. He turned and walked carefully to Vera’s side. Everyone else was watching him with wide eyes as Vera huddled silently beside the fire.

“Isaac,” Gray murmured disapprovingly.

“Yeah I know.” He waved his hand dismissively at Gray. He looked at Tori. “Has she said anything?”

“Of course not,” she whispered. She was staring at Vera with tears in her eyes.

“Oh.” He knelt beside Vera. She was staring into the fire with a blank expression on her face. He looked at Gray.

Gray licked their lips. “Vera, you can speak.”

“Thank you, sir,” she breathed.

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut. “We need to get her out of it,” he murmured to Gray. “It’s not safe for her to be like this out here.”

“I know.” They were looking at her with concern written across their face. “Vera, I need you to breathe with me.”

She turned to look at them, her eyes staring sightlessly through them. “Not allowed,” she whispered.

“You are, Vera. You’re allowed to breathe with me. Come on. Breathe in –”

“Not allowed to remember Ryan.”

Continued here

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[sarah--goff]

Sabaism: chapter 17: Down To A Tea:

Tick, tock, tick tock

The sound draws you from your slumber.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in the Outskirts overlooking the labyrinth where your adventure had begun.

“What the-”

It looked to be early morning, the sky streaked in purples and pinks, in the anticipation for the sun to rise fully. It was eerily beautiful.

The wind was blowing right through you .

You shiver, holding your arms until you feel a rush of warmth melt over you. You look down at yourself, seeing you’re now wrapped in the  blue cloak.

You turn to the loud ticking, overriding your thoughts.

Tick, tock, tick, tock

Jareth was leaning against a tree, one hand behind his back, the black antique clock he used to time your run was above his head. The thin hands on the clock face read 6:30. He was gazing over the Labyrinth .  

“Good morning?” you raise an eyebrow, pulling the cloak further around you.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement in your direction with a quiet smile, still overlooking the labyrinth with distant eyes.

You yawn into the cloak.

“You could have just woken me up you know, no need for the theatrics” you mumble, finding yourself also starring sleepily over the labyrinth.

“Why am I here anyway?” you sit on a stone rock just in front of the tree.

He didn’t reply straight away.

“Sometimes I come here when I need to think,”

Jareth took his eyes away from the view to rest on you softly.

“I didn’t mean to summon you, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed if you wish” he raised his hand gently for a crystal.

“No, no, it’s ok, I’m here now i might as well stay, if you want me to?”

He smirked at your uncertainty, tilting his head back against the tree again, to lift his eyes to the Labyrinth “yes, I want you to”.

You sit in silence, not that you mind, in your sleepy state.

It was nice, peaceful.

There were birds calling in nearby trees, flowers blooming under the arriving sun, the labyrinth’s outer walls sparkled.

You don’t remember the Outskirts like this the last time you were here, but of course your mind was on other things at the time, like how on earth you were going to make it through the Labyrinth and getting home.

Now, it looked all the magical being it was, your heavy eyes stay resting on the view, just taking the time to drink it all in. Little by little. you unpick the small details you hadn’t noticed before against the orange streaked sky.

You give an involuntary content sigh as you curled your knees against your chest.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks softly

You shrug then shake your head.

“Not really, but I think I’ve had more than enough sleep already, I’ll be okay for now”

“You had a lot on your mind I imagine”

You lock your fingers over your knee cap “things have...been a lot to take in, yeah”

In truth, you were wide awake for most of the night, only dropping off occasionally to snap awake again.

The bed felt too strange for you to relax in, to the point where you found yourself missing your old knackered single in your bedroom. Whenever you shifted, you expected to hear the creaks and groans under the floorboards but faced silence.  

Apart from that, your mind couldn’t switch off.

Every time your eyes closed you found yourself staring back at the high, crumbly walls of the Labyrinth..

How could anyone ever sleep in a place like the Underground?

There was so much you didn’t know or hadn’t seen, or wanted to see again, just to check this was indeed all happening, not just a fever dream. Even after everything you’d experienced , part of you still couldn’t believe it was quite real.

“What about you?” you swivel to face him.

“Similar to you, but most likely for different reasons” the Goblin King tugged the corner of his mouth up.

You gave a nod, not that you really understood

“Right”

There was a pause. You didn’t really know what to say.

“And you’re alright?” he looks down his nose, awaiting your answer.

You gave another shrug. Alright . Were you alright?

“I’ve done my crying” you say definitely, but that’s all.

“hmm”

Not the answer he was looking for apparently.

You bite your lip looking at the dirt, rolling a stone under your shoe “so, what were you thinking about?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You said you come here to think, what does a Goblin King come all the way out here to think about this early in the morning”

“This and that” he pushed himself off the tree, sucking his teeth, “how about breakfast, since we’re already here, are you hungry?”

You felt your stomach gurgle, suddenly reminding you you hadn’t eaten since the night you ate the soup.

You gave a sheepish smile “I could eat”.

Jareth chuckled between stretching his arms out in front of him, allowing you to briefly see the pale skin and lean muscle under his leather layers.

He tugs you to your feet, indicating to follow behind him as he began to walk.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“Just looking for flat ground” he mumbled, scanning over the dusty earth.

He stopped short suddenly, making you bump into him, “ oof ”.

“Here should do it”.

Three blue and pink tinged bubbles expanded from his fingertips.

Jareth popped two of them, blowing the third in your direction to allow you to pop it curiously. It made a nice change to be outside the bubble for change.

You watch it burst into a chair to accompany another identical chair and a round table for two.

“Wait you meant we’re going to eat, here , here?”

“It’s a fine morning, I don’t see why not” Jareth shook out a checkered tablecloth gracefully sweeping it over the table and placed down two sets of cutlery glinting in the sun and a plate each.

You couldn’t argue you supposed, it was a good view after all.

The wind had since died down to only a soft breeze and the morning chill was wearing off, though you still kept the cloak over you, mostly because you forgot to ask for pyjamas last night, well aware you were still dressed in your days old clothing.

He pulls out one of the chairs, standing behind it, gesturing for you to sit.

“Ms. Hazel,“ the Goblin King bobbed his head, blonde strands of hair lightly shifting forward.

You roll your eyes, taking your seat while he tucked in your chair.

“Now then, what would Ms. Hazel like for breakfast?”

He took his own seat so you were facing each other with the labyrinth on your left.

“oh, um... cereal?”

Jareth began to laugh “of all the things in the world, Sloane Hazel would like her cereal”

your cheeks warmed “well...whatever” you mumbled.

What did you eat for breakfast in the underground? In fact, what did you eat at all, nevermind breakfast? You sorely hoped it wouldn’t be leaves and berries like in the fairy-tales.

“I tease, of course you can have whatever you wish”

“Well, what are you having?”

“Me? Well now, how abouuuut,”

He rested his chin on his gloved hand, elbow propped up on the table. His fingertips tapped against his cheek as he mulled over the idea like it was an important decision until he broke into a smirk.

“Hmmm, I know -“

A cloud of inky purple smoke and glitter flashed over the table.

Assorted china plates and silver dishes clunked onto it in unison, covering practically the every inch, all shapes and sizes- holding the most wonderful eye catching things. You could pick out the smell of eggs and bacon before anything else. Your mouth watered.

“-a bit of everything”

Not like the stories at all.

He had gloat on him, not under-passing an opportunity to show off his abilities. You let him, consumed with the food.

“How-” you go to ask but catch the words in your mouth. Nothing’s impossible.

Jareth stood to pluck a fluffy piece of toast from a silver tray “well, go on then, help yourself”

Your fingers hovered over the dishes, unsure where to start, and this was only breakfast!

You pluck a ration of bacon, scoop some scrambled egg and a piece of toast, pouring yourself tea into teacup- though you wish it was coffee instead.

Jareth began to cut into a tomato, flicking his eyes at your little plate momentarily.

“There’s no need for modesty here, Sloane, I mean it, have anything you want, I can’t imagine how hungry you must be by now, you’ll need the strength”

When you eye his plate you see he’s helped himself generously, a full English and a half even.

You shrugged, embarrassed.

"I can hear how hungry you are. The least I can do is feed you”  Jareth pretended to find his food interesting, looking at his fork, “you’ve fed me enough times...”

You were hungry, more than you had been at the lake.

 Fuck it,  

you don’t care if it’s poisoned or drugged or whatever.  you help yourself to another ration, a buttered croissant.

You bite into a particularly appetising piece of toast with a fried egg on top that had the brightest yellow oke you’d ever seen.

“ oh my god ”

You begin to chew slowly, until you finish.

ugh so good , definitely a step up from CocoPops

You quickly dab your chin with the back of your hands at the grease sliding down, hoping he didn’t notice.

“I feel disgusting” you said with a happy sigh, sitting back.

The Goblin King laughed beside you “welcome to the Underground” you clinked teacups.

Jareth sliced into a delicately powdered pancake, how the hell he had room for that you didn’t know.

“Would you like some?” he waved a piece on his fork at you.

Your stomach heaves “no, stop, I’m going to burst” you giggle “you’re spoiling me”

“What’s wrong with being spoiled? “ Jareth says lightly, spreading jam over a hot-cross bun, “when was the last time somebody made you breakfast?” he bit into it, tilting his head.

The question catches you off guard.

“oh, um...”

You had to seriously think about it.

By the time you woke in the mornings Brian and Kari were already at work. You only had enough time before school for cereal, weekends were pretty much the same story, you had to rush off between rehearsals and studying or you just lazed in and missed breakfast altogether, you don’t even recall breakfast made for you at Christmas or your birthday, most likely because neither Kari or Brian were particularly good cooks anyway.

“Well…okay fair point” you reach for the teacup, having your third cup.

You didn’t want to spoil the moment or the effort that he was at least trying to make, but your inner voice can’t help but nag at you. And for once you listen to it.

“I know what you’re doing- thinking you can butter me up with breakfast”

“I have no idea know what you mean”

Jareth pretended to find his butter knife interesting, avoiding your eyes but he couldn’t help the smirk spread on his face

“ -that wasn’t the plan at all, but is it working anyway?”

“yeah” you nod.

You leave it at that, not being hostile, but still letting him know you’re not so easily fooled, he was right earlier, your run in the Labyrinth was over. You were finished dancing to his tune.

You couldn’t be bothered to start another argument, especially if you wanted answers out of him later, so for now, you let it lie.

You turn your head in time to catch a flock of birds cross the sky, you could see the hubbub of the Goblin City  in full swing even from all the way up here.  

It was something close to feeling as though you were watching the world wake up and begin the day, the pair of you admired the sun over the Labyrinth in content silence.

The sounds of the insects in the thin clumps of grass, like cicadas, filled your ears. The clock above chimed the hour.

“This is really nice”

“I’m glad” he teased

“No, I mean it, it’s lovely”

“So do I, I’m glad ”

Jareth had a lingering triumphant smile on his face, his bejewelled broach at the throat kept shining in your face under the light. In fact, all of him seemed to sparkle today, you had to keep forcing your eyes at the ground or just behind his ear to stop yourself being caught staring at him.

You arch your back, stretching, “do you come out here a lot? Eat as well?”

“Sometimes” the Goblin King considered the view for a moment, speaking in it’s direction rather than to your face.

 “I’d rather be out here, in the open, than eat alone at a long dining table in a drafty castle, wouldn’t you?”.

“oh... yeah, probably”

You looked at your plate, embarrassed. That sounded quite sad.

You never considered the Goblin King would be lonely. Was he lonely? Weren’t there other people here? Just goblins? No there must be, I saw some, remember?

You rack your brains trying to picture their faces but everything you remember seeing- or thought you’d seen- in the ballroom was slightly blurred,  plus they were wearing masks.

You scratched at your wrist where the seal was. It was angry red and irritating. You scratch it again, feeling as if it was burning into your skin.

Jareth rested his knife and fork on either side of his plate “is that hurting you?”

“No, it’s just itchy”  

He wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin, beckoning for your hand “here”

You gave it, “can you stop it? it’s driving me nuts”

“i can but you won’t like it”

“just do whatever you have to do” you wince at the urge to grab his butter knife scratch your skin off.

You assume he’s going to pull out a crystal or whatever but unexpectedly, Jareth plucks off his gloves by the fingertips.

He opened his mouth,  putting the pad of his thumb to the inside of his cheek. Jareth held it there, looking up, humming under his breath.  

“I don’t-”

Jareth closed his mouth,  pressing his thumb to the seal on your wrist.

“well that’s disgusting “ you shake your head looking away trying not to flinch at the fizzing sensation as he pressed the saliva into the wound.

“Would you have rather I’d have licked your wrist?”

Jareth bobbed his eyebrows suggestively making you blush deeply “n-no” as you try not to picture exactly how that would look and feel.

“That any better?”

You take it back, the redness all gone, just leaving the skin glittery like his own “yeah actually”.

He waves his hand, and you watched as the plates and dishes slowly faded in front of your eyes.

The Goblin King held a crystal by his fingertips, elongating it until it stretched to form a yellowed newspaper.

Jareth sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

The Goblin King reading a newspaper. Well how about that.

You giggled, earning you a look from over the paper’s rim “am i amusing you?”

“No it’s just-” you gesture to the paper and then shake your head “you’re being so usual”

The Goblin King smirked, continuing to read,  pretending to be unfazed as he scanned the paper “am I normally unusual?”

You bit your lip thoughtfully, how could he be so unaware of how ‘Other’ he was, in his get-up and looks down to the way he moved?

On the other hand, you suppose he was considered normal in the Underground, meaning you were the ‘Other’ one in this scenario.

“You’re the most unusual usual person I’ve ever met” you said confidently

“Congratulations to me then” Jareth shuffled the paper, going back to reading.

You rest your head in your hand, staring at the view. How could anyone grow tired of seeing this?

You wish you had something of your own to read, one of your mum’s faded paperbacks or something it would be so perfect right now.

At least reading would be something to look forward to now that you had “ forever ”. You could read all you wanted without being interrupted by essays. The thought gave you a warm feeling in your stomach.

You settle to watching the world go by for a while and pretend not to notice him sneaking looks at you, he may as well have cut two eye holes in the paper like in the films. Honestly .

In this moment, sitting on top of a hill peering over the kingdom, under the sun, you were quite sure you could get used to this.

Jareth sighs, folding the paper twice and making it vanish.

“I can’t read like this, too many distractions” his eyes dance at you.

You give him a sideways glance.

“Sooo…” he says in a sing song voice “so, first day in the Underground. Well, first day free and conscious anyway”

“If you’re trying to soothe me over you’re going to have to stop saying things like that” Jareth continues without changing his tone.

“What do you want to do first? I was thinking about a tour today, you’ve already had the full experience of the Labyrinth . Or would you like to see your room before?”

Your ears prick up, “ my room?”.

Maybe he was trying to divert from the inevitable that he promised , or make you forget but the idea.

You never even considered having a place of your own. A whole bedroom in a castle just for you.

My room .

“The tower room’s served its purpose, I’m sure you’d want your own space anyway, give you a chance to settle in”

Settle .

“Y-es”

“Right then” he slapped his thighs, jumping up.

You stood, accepting the arm he offered you.

“Oh wait, do you want this back?” You pull the cloak off your shoulder but he stops you, tugging it back up again.

“No, no, you keep it, I rather think it suits you”

Jareth gave an approving nod even though you knew you probably looked like a mess right now. Actually, the idea of washing properly sounded promising

“My room it is then” you nod, picturing what it would look like.

You think he’s about to pull out a crystal and poof you there but instead the pair of you stride over to a large slate boulder nearby. Jareth nudges it aside with his foot, revealing a trapdoor underneath.

The Goblin King looks from the trapdoor in the earth to you, with a wicked beam “after you”.

The trapdoor opens and you could see the beginning of a slide. Oh no .

“You have these things everywhere?”

“A whole network tangled under the labyrinth”

“well that’s...good to know”

“It’s the quickest and most fun way to travel”

You begin to back off, remembering the last time you were down one of these.

“ Fun ”, was not the right word at all.

“I think I’ll throw up” you said in a small voice.

He threw his head back laughing “nonsense you’ll be sound” Jareth grabs a nearby mat, setting it down at the mouth of the slide.  “Now, i’m certain the Above are familiar with how this works”

“Yeah, you sit on the mat and slide down, hardly rocket science”

“Hmmm” Jareth looks under another rock, ���it appears I only have one mat -you don’t mind sharing do you?” his teeth gleamed predatory like.

“Can’t we just use one of your crystals” you fold your arms, knowing exactly what he was up to.

Jareth folded his arms leaning an elbow on the rock,  “Mmm you said you wanted to “see Underground properly”, and this is the most ‘proper’ you can get” he crossed one foot over the other.

You stare at the slide, disappearing into the darkness.

“Now, now I think someone's coming down with a case of Scaredy Cat”

That did it. Your shoulders immediately square, whatever effect he was looking to have it worked, you would not show vulnerability in front of the Goblin King. You knew it was a ploy but you went along with it anyway.

It’s just a slide, you went through a whole labyrinth and you’re scared of a slide?

Jareth winked, as if able read to your thoughts “now- are you in, or are you out?”

You sighed, caving in “not like I have much choice”.  

“That’s the spirit” Jareth takes your hand, helping you to crouch without toppling over to seat yourself on the mat.

“I’ll get you back for this you know” you mumble under your breath.

You sit with your knees up, stomach doing flips at what’s about to happen. You inch forward, trying to give him as much space as possible so he doesn’t have to be so close to you in already a small proximity.

You try not to jump when you feel either side of his legs slip around yours as he shifts to get comfortable. Looks like your efforts were wasted.

Oh god .

You felt yourself flush, the warmth rushing through you, that same buzz you felt whenever he was close, just like when you were in the ballroom.

“You do trust me, don’t you?” he murmurs by your ear suddenly, hot breath making your hairs stand on end . You felt a pool of warmth in the pit of your stomach.

You nod, although you want to say “ no, you’re a reptile and I definitely don’t trust you” , but the words die in your throat. You nod, and try not to think about his body heat near you .

“Good” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making your heartbeat speed up. Before you can register anything else he’s already pushed off from the mouth of the slide, hurtling the pair of you forwards.

The speed automatically reels you backwards, you find yourself pressing into him.

The darkness unsettles you at first but you remind yourself you’re with the Goblin King this time, you’re quite safe.

You turn a sharp corner, making you yelp and clap your hands over your eyes. You are scared, fuck your pride you should have just said no.

You instinctively press further against him, as if trying to escape the whole ordeal altogether, feeling his own chest vibrate with chuckling. Jareth crosses his arms further around your own.

“Look up, Sloane”

You shake your head, feeling sick.

“Look up, you’ll love it I promise”

You cautiously squint open an eye above you, seeing little purple and white lights whizz overhead.

You blink, trying to focus on them, immediately forgetting your fears.

“What are they?” you say loudly into his ear against the rushing wind.

“Roots. Of the trees in the Labyrinth, look-” he momentarily takes his arm off yours but you yelp, pulling it back in case you fall forward.

Jareth’s other arm stretches across  you further so he can free the other, pointing to the roots

“touch them” .

You shakily reach a hand out, grazing your fingers along the tree roots that rush past you, at your touch, they spark a rainbow glow that makes you shiver and tingle at the fingertips.

“Woahhh” you gasp, giggling. You turn your hand over as if expecting it to glow itself.

“Magic. Pure magic” Jareth trails his own hand across the roots, causing the dark to light up with colour and spark.

You do it again, pressing your palm against the roots further, revelling in the tingling feeling.

Actually, this was kind of fun. You felt light, like you were flying, you laugh tilting your head back so it echoes all around you as you zip through the darkness. He joins in.

Man, this felt amazing! Why didn’t he just give you this earlier?

“not too much!” Jareth takes your hand off rapidly

You hear him say something only the lines of “ dangerous ” and “ imbalance ” but it sounds as if he’s underwater.

You giggle and touch it one more time daringly with the tip of your finger to irk him, earning your shoulders to be pulled back roughly against him.  

“ minx ” he says, humming in your ear heavily “you better be good, you know” you can feel Jareth’s lips on the very tip of your ear, long strands of hair teasing your cheek.

You’re immediately pulled back into focus, your entire face ignites and you’re extremely glad neither of you are touching the roots or you’d be bright red for all the world to see.

Suddenly Jareth holds you by the shoulders tighter, voice returning to usual pitch.

“Here we go, sit tight”

You go rigid, ready for impact.

Ahead of you, a trap door swings open, evading light into the darkness.

The mat flies off, the pair of you land on cushions as you had before.

The trapdoor behind you swings shut.

This time, instead of a dark cave, you’re in a large circular stone room. You’re in the castle, you must be.

You blink, standing and realising little over 50 pairs of eyes on you, gawping.

A guard, who you mistook for an old man at first -had it not been for his long ears and snout-nose- pushed his way through the mob, to bow to Jareth, panting.

“Sire! The girl ! She’s escaped!  From the tower!”

“Hello”  you poke your head around Jareth’s tall figure, causing the little creatures  to step back in unison with a hushed gasp.

The guards’ ears flap up like a dog’s, scratching his head in confusion.

Jareth exhaled, putting a hand to his temple patiently, indicating these kinds of incidents happened all too often.

“I know, Candlewick, I let her out”

You side-eye him. He coughed, correcting himself “I mean invited”.

The Goblins didn’t try and hide their curiosity, gawping at you and pointing.

You stare back just as much, but not for too long, some were quite unsettling to look at.

 So this is what goblins look like. Well, they weren’t far off the fairytales. You were grateful Jareth looked nothing like them at least.

One prodded your elbow making you swat it away

“hey!”

They just grinned, delighted by your reaction, edging each other on, pushing one another towards you.

In a way they were like small children, really , really ugly children.

Unexpectedly, one small one pinched the back of your ankle, making you yelp. Their yapping peals of laughter echoed around you.

“Ow!” you grasp your ankle, “what was that for!” you hopped on one foot, only amusing them further.

Jareth threw his head back laughing, putting his hands on his hips, “oh yes, I think you’ll do just fine here”

You gave daggers at the goblin laughing behind its paw at you.

Jareth leaves your side to shuck his cape and fold it over a circular seat of some kind.

He motions for you to follow him out of the room and you don’t hesitate, well aware of the beady red eyes boring into your backs.

“is it always like this?”

You walk down a dimly lit corridor that stretched out before you .

“Nevermind them, outsiders are few and far between here,  they’ll get used to you”

The pair of you stride in unison along a hallway.

You felt awkward in the silence apart from your patter of footsteps, the sound of his boots drowning out your trainers.

You peak at them. Look at that heal! No wonder he always towered over you!

You should probably say something.

Ugh small talk .

Jareth exhaled air from his nose “this the first I’ve seen you so quiet. I got more out of you in the Labyrinth”

“i was just thinking”

He sucked his teeth “sounds dangerous”

You nudged him in the ribs with your elbow “only because you know I’m smarter than you”

“Not smart enough to solve a labyrinth apparently”

That earned him a forceful shoulder shove.

Jareth, only too delighted, shoved you back, just as hard, with a daring twinkle in his eye again .

You bite the bait, pushing him again.

Jareth gets carried away,  giving full force with both hands unexpectedly so that you miss your footing and clang against the stone wall, hitting your head with a comical donk

“Oh shit ” you clutch your head, crouching from the stinging “oh fuckkk that hurts”

“sorryareyoualright ” Jareth garbles, crouching beside you, looking genuinely frightened.

There’s a pause. You stare at each other for a second too long until you both burst out laughing -you between the wincing.

Jareth pulls you to your feet carefully while you rub your head .

“I’ll go easier on you next time” he mimes a shoulder punch teasingly to mask his doubts.

You feign rolling your eyes, the pain in your crown ebbing away, “I let you have that one”

“I should be careful then next time ” Jareth plays along

“you may not be so lucky”

“could be absolutely fatal”  he agrees

“I’ll let it slide for now”

“Very generous of you”

He holds out an arm for you to take. Well there was the awkwardness taken care of .

Maybe he should slam me into walls more often  

You bite down on your cheek to stop a giggle at that thought.

You realise you’ve passed through multiple corridors, all with the same high ceilings,  under hung candelabras and torches fitted to the walls.

“I don’t know how I’m going to find my way around this place “

You crane your neck  looking for little unique points in every corridor to remember each by but they looked exactly the same, maybe that was the point.

“You will. The trick is not to look too hard”

“That doesn’t make sense at all”

“Sometimes we find the things when we don’t go looking for them”

Suddenly remembering what the Wise Man said you blurt “sometimes the way forward is the way back”

Jareth side-eyed you at that unexpected response, “exactly” .

You still didn’t understand but maybe Underground logic was no logic, just spontaneous, it seemed to be how things were around here.

“Up here”

You climb a flight of steps, coming to a corridor.

It’s funny, the castle never looked this big from all the way in the Labyrinth, but then neither did the Labyrinth itself at first glance and oh boy how wrong you were about that.

Through the centre of the corridor was a red rug like a river covering the  flagstone floor.

“And here we are” Jareth stops short at a large round door.

“In here?”

He smiles “I don’t see any other doors”  turning the large doorknob, creaking it open.

He lets you slip inside first and you gasp.

It’s not the stiff, medieval drafty room you expected at all, it’s much cosier.

You blink a few times as your eyes adjust in the difference in light.

Your mouth parts in astonishment.

“wow” you say softly.

The room isn’t huge but roughly the size of your living room at home , definitely bigger than what you were used to.

“You are my guest, you didn’t think I’d stuff you any old place did you?”  Jareth tsked but you could tell he was awaiting your appraisal.  

He had an arm crossed over his chest, elbow resting on it and tapping his cheek with his finger expectantly.

You pivot on the spot to see everything.

In front of you was a small grid window with what you assumed to be your bed situated in front of it, a little larger than a single, covered in assorted pillows, floral sheets and knit throws.

On the thin bookshelf was a few dusty hardbacks that you would definitely be investigating soon.

Candles tall and short sat everywhere , some new, some ancient, judging by the wax dripping.

The few paintings hung on the walls were slanted at an angle.

Overall, it gave a chaotic feeling but in a strange way it was also calming, your own little hide-away. It was perfect.

By the ribbons, bells  and pearls hung from the candleholders and draped across the furniture, it was as if a slice of the ballroom had been cut and squashed into the room.

“Do you like it?” he breaks off your thoughts “if not there are oth-”

“no, no its fine”

He was trying after all you supposed, probably going off a generic girl’s interests. You could hardly blame him for not knowing what a modern teenage girl’s bedroom looked like, your previous was hardly a model.

“It’s lovely” you say with a genuine smile.

Judging by the clean and fresh smell, the room was most likely unattended for sometime and then suddenly upheaved.

“You haven’t seen the best bit yet” The Goblin King tugged at the curtains you hadn’t immediately noticed, peeling them back to let in more light and reveal another  window.

Your eyes widen.

“oh wow !”  you join his side.

From here you have an amazing view of the Goblin City as well as the Labyrinth and in the distance fields and hills with what looked like cattle grazing in them.

It was a pretty place, you could see that much.

The orange and black streak sky you had grown used to seeing in the Labyrinth was replaced by light blue against purple and pink clouds.

It looked like something from a painting but it was here, it was real. You realised suddenly how close the city was to the castle when you had mistaken it for much further away when you were standing on the Labyrinth’s walls.  

It also made you realise, with a pang in the stomach, exactly how close you had been to winning, since you could see the very Junk Yard you had been standing in days ago before you fell into the Oubliette.

The city was so close, you could smell the tell-tale chimney smoke,  even with the closed windows.

You can hardly take your eyes off the view.

A wooden desk , doubling as a vanity, sat strategically in front of it. Your mind ran wild just imagine the inspiration you’d have sitting here.

“this is amazing”  

“I’m glad”

You turn, catching your own shocked expression in the mirror of the dark wardrobe. Beside it, stood a thin coat rack, hanging up dad’s jacket that someone had thankfully collected.

You shuffle your feet, remembering why you were desperate to be here in the first place.

“So um, about settling in...” you trail off sheepishly.

Jareth nods, understanding without embarrassing you, “of course, I’ll leave you to it”

He moved to the door to leave when you peeped inside the wardrobe curiously, to find nothing in it.

“uh wait a second, do you have any clothes for me?”

Jareth clapped his forehead “oh right. I forgot” .

He tossed a crystal until it popped and sprang into various items of clothes, landing neatly folded on your bed.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I had to guess your sizes” .

You’d make do.

“...and the uh, is there a bathroom around here ? I could use a shower or something” you gesture to your dishevelled state, you hadn’t washed properly since before you arrived.

The idea of a hot shower sounded amazing, unlikely, but amazing.

“It’s waiting for you” he pointed at the opposite end of the room, “behind the door”

“I have my own?” your eyes follow his finger,  noticing the wooden door tucked away. How can such a cosy little place fit so much?

“that wasn’t there just a sec-”

“Things aren’t always what they seem”

The Goblin King tossed a crystal at you which you instinctively caught, and he vanished.

“why didn’t I think of that?” you mumbled with a yawn, ditching the crystal on the bed and pulling the curtains together again.

You shuck off the cloak, hanging it up next to dad’s jacket.

When you enter the ‘bathroom’,  you expect to find a dismal bucket of cold water tied to a string to douse yourself with, but to your surprise, it’s close enough to something you would expect to find in the modern houses back home.

A free standing  bath stood in the middle, with a shower behind it and on the left a mirror and sink with assorted brushes and cosmetics.

A crystal  bulb hung from the ceiling, though you guessed it was magic illuminating it , not electricity.

Bath or shower?

Shower.

You undress and hop in, turning the tap and adjusting the temperature accordingly.

Ahhh.

You notice various soaps awaiting you and pick one, reading ‘ ginger spices ’ using it to scrub profusely, almost feeling every bit of grim and dirt from the labyrinth wash away.

There was a twinning pair of shampoo and conditioner bottles that you each squeezed into your hands and lavished in your hair one after the other, filling your nose strongly of something unidentifiable but sweet.

You take your time until you feel properly cleansed.

The seal on your wrist still glowers white but the pain is completely gone.

Oh god , you let out a giggle, bouncing around the bathroom, remembering Jareth’s saliva on your skin. Did that really happen?

When you climb out your clothes are gone, replaced by two fluffy towels awaiting you, still warm as you envelope yourself in them and step out of the room feeling practically brand new.

For a minute you forget where you are and almost go to switch on your radio like you would at home when you stop yourself.

You tied the towels around you further to inspect the clothes on the bed and pick out an outfit.

You shift among the shirts and long skirts you finally find a blouse and to your relief some trousers. At least Jareth had decent taste you had to give him that. No jeans though. Sigh.

You collect the rest to put away in the wardrobe when you notice the underwear lying beside them.

They hadn’t been there earlier. He must have slipped them in.

Oh for the love of-!

You hold them distastefully by the tips of your fingers, pinkish white, lacy compared to your usual get up.

You shake the crystal, hissing into it “you’re taking the piss” as if he could hear you. You toss it back onto the bed.

You grit your teeth and slip them on anyway, cursing him under your breath, “ prick prick prick ”

They fit well. Almost too well.

You dress in the trousers and blouse , inspecting yourself in the wardrobe’s mirror.

You turn side on and lift your arms up and down. The trousers are tight like Jareth’s but not uncomfortable, you could see why he wore them so often.  

You leave your hair to dry naturally.

You sit on the corner of your new bed, instantly relaxing into it and lying on your stomach.

So this was it, your bedroom, in the castle, your new home. You re-take it all in again.

Your eyes rest on the large metallic gold clock on the wall opposite with two daggers for hands. You notice the addition of the 13th hour rather than your regular clocks at home. So strange  

Time.

Forever.

How long was forever?

What were you going to do all day now that there was no school, or responsibilities or friends...or family.

No. Stop it. Can’t think like that.

How boring would eternity get?  

You rolled over your back.

Just the concept was boggling.

What if Jareth got bored of you decided he didn't want your company anymore and cast you away?

What the hell am I even doing here?

You unhooked the window, flopping down to inhale the fresh air while marvelling at the view .

You weren’t thrilled by the circumstances of your situation, but you weren’t about to bawl your eyes out over the loss of your aunt and uncle, come on, don’t kid yourself.

You take a frilly white pillow from under your head and hold it to your chest, staring up at the ribbons and pearls hanging from the ceiling.

Your fingers dig into the pillow and you sigh.  You felt guilty for not feeling guilty. Not in the slightest. This was your adventure. Yours.

Jan would know what to do in a situation like this.

What would she make of Jareth?

At least she’d approve of the idea that you had some sort of spark with someone of the opposite sex for the first time in forever, even if he was a little older than the boys she’d tried to push you towards.

You smiled to yourself.

Oh yes, you definitely knew what Jan would say about Jareth, things that you would never ever repeat aloud. You shook your head and tutted. You found yourself agreeing with her.

You could almost hear Jan’s  tinkling laughter

“enjoy it girly!”

You were attracted to Jareth, any person with two eyes in their head would be attracted to Jareth, he only needed to smirk or make eye contact or flaunt that smarm but that didn’t mean you automatically trusted him. You barely knew him after all. Well, kind of.

Yeah, and ?

And…

You sighed, back at square one with the way you felt all over again.

If only you could phone her. But the lack of electricity had already won that battle. No more conversations with Jan, ever again.

No, nope, no more tears, you can’t change things so get on with it for god’s sake.

That’s what Jan would say, she’d take you by the shoulders and shake you:

“What’s wrong with you? You live in a castle, Slo, with a devastatingly handsome man and living in your literal dreams, you want to throw that away?” You shake your head to yourself “thanks, Jan” you mumble .

A knock at the door interrupts you

“Sloane?” Jareth pokes his head around the circular door, “did you slip down the plughole?”

you roll your eyes, locking the window again “I’m ready if that’s what you’re asking”, you ignore the sarcasm.

You see he’s changed clothing again, dressed in black and blue like the night you first met him, the tall collar emphasises his height as well as the hair.

“apparently”

The expression on his face was something you couldn’t quite read, but it had lightened.

You slip on dad's jacket "let's go".

Thankfully he uses a crystal rather than traipsing all the way back through the castle.

You blink then turn in the rising wind, finding yourself on the drawbridge outside the castle.

You crane your neck, able to see your own room’s window from here that you had been standing in moments ago.

“There’s not much of the castle to see”

Jareth admitted throwing and catching a crystal absent minded

“-so I thought we’d start here, who knows where the wind will take us”

The pair of you crossed over the bridge to potter down some steps and into the city.

_*_

You decided the Goblin City was a place you wouldn’t be frequenting often, you could see why Jareth stuck to the castle.

It was a dirty place, hardly a ‘city’, run ragged, but it was unusual, and therefore in that respect captivated your attention.

Sometimes you spotted the tail end of a creature but mostly the place was deserted.

You’d passed the odd palace guard, but apart from that, there seemed to be hardly anyone around.

Was it always this quiet? You initially got the feeling it would be a more chaotic place.

You couldn’t tell how long you’d milled around but evening looked to be approaching soon. You shoved your hands in your pockets, as Jareth filled you in on where everything was bakeries, taverns and the like.

Having felt you'd seen pretty much everything in the city, t he pair of you began to circle back towards the castle, narrowly avoiding the awkwardness of seeing the ending of the Labyrinth at the gates of the Goblin City.  

The castle’s windows were lit up in yellow torchlight.  

You reach the drawbridge, making your way inside again, approaching the hubbub from inside.

“It must be rammed in there” you say more to yourself as the noise of voices and cries grow louder with every step.

“Goblins” Jareth bobbed his head nonplussed at the calamity.

" goblins ?" you repeat dryly following behind uncertainly “what are they still doing here?”

The door swings open inviting an uproar of noises.  

You clap your hands over your ears “ jesus god”  

but it did nothing to muffle the whoops of laughter and racket of things either being dropped or launched into the walls.

The goblins were chasing round the room, singing out of unison or irritating chickens. Chickens?

Jareth did nothing to stop them as you had initially thought he would. Rather in fact, than thundering and silencing the room, he seemed entertained by the ruckus.

He laughed throwing back his head, then ducking without blinking as a rock was launched in the air.

He flopped onto the round seat you’d seen earlier, throwing a leg over the side and just laughed more though you didn’t get the joke.  

“you don’t mind?” you cried to be heard over the noise, sitting on the steps leading up to be what you imagined what his throne, since they didn’t look too dirty.

He shrugged, watching them, tapping a staff against his boot “it’s fun”

“fun?”

clearly you both had different ideas of fun .

How he put up with this you did not know.

The mess they’d surely make...you’d taken Jareth for a spick-and-span, silent, strict guy.

A merry goblin whizzed past with a red flag bobbing  up and down, attached to its little helmet that covered its face.

Jareth had a drink in his hand that you hadn’t spotted until a second ago.

He caught your glance “like to try some?” he held out his own cup to you

“what is it?” you take a sip

Jareth rolled his eyes “apple juice”

You swallowed and then shuddered at the foul taste, pushing the cup away “ugh that’s disgusting”

“it’s not for it’s pleasantness believe me”

“I’ll stick to the water, thanks” the glass appeared in your hand.

“to the latest Underground citizen” he raised his cup at you in a toasting fashion

“to me”

_*_

The one thing you noticed was that the singing didn’t stop. Jareth even left the throne and began merrily clapping his hands to a tune or two making you giggle. Maybe he wasn’t such the stoic character you’d taken him for in the Labyrinth.

Although it was total and utter chaos , you found yourself fascinated even if the goblins were obviously stupid.

Real life goblins.

That part still you couldn’t get over.

Strange,  they seemed totally juvenile, not cunning and devious, not likely to eat children or guard bridges like the books said. Or was that trolls? More or less the same thing, right?

You sighed, realising this was the kind of thing you’d have to get used to thinking through. And I thought talking to a bird was crazy

Another thing you noticed was the odd amount of clocks all shapes and sizes dotted around the throne room, all reading different times. Every now and then one or two hands would creep forwards or even backwards .

Would it be the same time at home? Was the Underground like Australia or something, different time zones? Or would it be the same as it was in England but like an alternative universe whatnot?

You’d already yawned into your elbow twice and was ready to call it a night, enough education for one day.

You sneakily creep out of the throne room without interrupting the “fun” . Jareth would have probably convinced you to stay longer anyway and you could barely keep your eyes open to continue to watch the charade as it is.

Besides, the new bed’s call was strong.

The aimless wandering of the Goblin City had worn you down thoroughly, it was a wonder how you managed a whole day of classes once upon a time.

At least tonight you’d sleep well.

Your footsteps echo down the corridor. By some miracle, you began to recall your steps from earlier this morning. Not so difficult after all.

You pass a black clock, telling you it was almost midnight.

You climb the stairs, trailing your hand up the banister sleepily. You pad along to the hallway coming to rest at your round door, closing it behind you softly.

With a low groan, you flop onto the chair  at the desk. You prise off your shoes and gazing out the grand window at the rising smoke from the chimneys in the Goblin City.

Further beyond that you could see tiny lights in the Labyrinth, candles perhaps? Though who could be lighting them though, or what rather.

You shivered and swiftly closed the curtains, grabbing what you assumed were your pyjamas from the drawers.

You crack your back, loosening your trousers .

The door swings open, bumping against the wall, making you jump out of your skin

“what the-”  You hurriedly yanked your trousers up .

Jareth staggered in, singing under his breath, he moved to the coat rack to lean against it, giggling slightly. His eyes fell on you , unfocused, and grinned.

“Good evening Ms. Hay…Hazel…well this is a nice turn of events” he giggled again.

“Jareth? What are you talking about” you sigh, buttoning your trousers discreetly, “look I had a nice day and it was cool to see the goblins but I’m shattered, okay?”

“You…in my chamber no less” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and you folded your arms, not in the mood for his games again.

“you’re in my room actually” you gestured to the walls around you “remember?”

“Oh” the goblin king nodded to himself and then squinted around in the lack of light.

“ah. I thought…the colours were different”. he frowned, rubbing his temple “I must’ve spelled m’yself to the wrong chamber”

"Well you can just spell yourself out again. Wait, are you…” you notice that he seemed to sway backwards and forwards on his feet.

“...are you drunk ?" you ask, but you were not, in fact, surprised to say the least.

His hand slips from his hold on the coat rack  and you automatically stepped up to catch him in time from falling flat on his face “woah, careful!”

He laughs over you and you catch the strong sense of alcohol on his breath, face inches from yours.

you pull back wrinkling your nose “you are drunk”  

He gave you cheeky, hazy smile. He looked up at you under his lashes  “merely had a cup or two…”

“I doubt that “

You struggle in his sloppiness to keep him upright.

You sigh, maneuvering him so that his arm was slung over your shoulder whilst you kept your own around his waist.

This was the first time you’d held him so close since the ballroom.

Jareth looked down at you with a conflicted expression, trying to clear something in his mind or making up his mind whether to say it.

“My rose,” he lamented, “do you forgive me?” he couldn’t look you in the eye partly because he couldn’t focus properly or most likely the guilt that was scrawled across his face.

“Forgive you” you say drily “for what?”

“For everything…thi-this whole, wretch…wre...wretched business” he slurs hiding his face in his elbow miserably.

Despite the awkwardness of trying to keep him upright in his theatrics, you smile at the irony of it all, if only he was sober enough to hear himself.

You give a chuckle at the thought , would sober Jareth be horrified with his inebriated softie self?

“You’re laughing at me!” he says, hurt. “Are my feelings funny to you? My sincerity a joke?” he sneered

“No!  I was- look , I forgive you okay? Now will you just sit down ” you helped him to sit on the chair with a thud.

You assess the situation, wanting desperately to kick him out and crawl into bed but the way he kept slipping from being upright without your support ate at your morals.

“I can’t let you leave like this , knowing you you’d probably spell yourself into the Bog and drown or break your neck down the stairs”

Jareth giggles, slumping across the desk and you ran a hand down your face .  “fine. fine you can stay, you absolute mess”

In the light spilling in through the curtain’s crack you can see he looks like a wreck, hair matted, make-up smudged across his face.

“Wait there-”

You dash to the bathroom picking up your brush and returning.

You pull him up again to his confusion and begin to drag the brush through the long knotted mess “jesus what did you do?” you mumble.  You hold it by the ends so it wouldn’t pull on him.

“i would give you coffee, or something to sober you up with, but I doubt you have that lying around here”

He watched you intensely in the mirror on the desk, never blinking or taking his eyes from you.

“you always take care of me” he says quietly, in a half confused, half statemented tone.

You tip up a smile “did I have a choice in either situation? The Goblin King isn’t so high and mighty after all” you bring the brush up again then sweeping it down.  

“you take care of me” he repeated “always”.

Your eyes met in the mirror and you stop brushing.

You hum under your breath, shaking off the stare

“you have nice hair”  

You ran a hand through it experimentally, making him shiver violently .

Jareth pushed himself up, or tried to, clumsy and uncoordinated under the influence of the alcohol.

Despite your weak attempts to keep him in place he was stronger than he looked and  managed to stand momentarily before sprawling forward over you again.

"Why do you hate me Sloane?" He asked, his face within inches of yours. "I only wanted to make you happy."

“I don’t hate you” you huff under his pressing weight to seat him on the foot of the bed

“you just-“ you  huff “-have a funny way of doing things”  

You lean him up against the post of the bed but he loses balance and instead falls flat on his back onto the bed.

You try to pull him up again but you’re not strong enough and just leave him.

So much for sleeping. Your legs were killing you after all the walking

“Scooch over” you motion, and plopped yourself down on your bed that he was currently hogging

“that's more like it," Jareth giggled.

On his back, looking so vulnerable and exposed, he looks angelic, hair spread out around him. His eyes slide open catching your staring and smirks. Of course he smirks.

“Won’t you kiss me goodnight?” he said, playful look in his eye “just a little one”

You didn’t mean to keep appealing to his ego and inwardly cursed yourself.

“I don’t think so” you raise your eyebrows “just because you’re drunk and helpless doesn’t mean I have amnesia”

“Ah ha! What a little liar!” he whoops “I think someone’s just a chicken” Jareth teases making clucking noises

“Oh really, you’re going with that one”

“Chicken it is then,” He says provokingly in a sing song voice.

Jareth continues to make the stupid noises and even the wing movement, still lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“ wrong ” You protest, voice wavering but it only amuses him further “that’s- that's just cheap.”

“Chicken, cheap,” he giggles like a child.

The Goblin King manages to lie on his side, resting his head on a pillow he had his arm looped around, facing you.

You subconsciously hugged your arms more tightly to yourself, as if doing so could fend off his brazen gaze. A gaze that kept shamelessly lowering  and making your heart speed.

“You know, it is high treason to refuse your king” he winks .

The smooth fucker, even when drunk he manages to be flawless in a kind of rough around the edges way.

You threw back your head laughing at his typical self, flopping against the pillows on your back beside him.

Jareth suddenly rolls over on you in a flash, as he slid an arm around your waist catching you off guard. His body pinning you down having you completely cornered.

“What are you-“

“I can see you want it,” his hand cupping your cheek, you flush deeply having nowhere else to look or escape.

“that tell-tale breathing, that flush on your chest, the shifting-” he pushes the tip of his nose into your throat making your breath hitch, trailing down to the base .

“No” you breathe but your mind had other ideas, clouding your judgement Yes! Yes! apparently so did your own body by its burning response down there.  

“ No ,” you repeat more forcefully liar liar .

You push him off gently but you still can't shake the intensity of that look “You’re-I’m- you’re drunk”

The Goblin King gave a lopsided grin “very well” and removed his hands immediately and rolling back over to put them behind his head, nestling his face sleepily in the crook of his elbow.

What the hell was that.

You’re not sure who the question is aimed at.

You part your mouth to say something then close it, and then part it again.

You sit up , leaning on your elbow to stare at him. Jareth hummed under his breath, blinking a few times at the ceiling hazily.

You sigh.  oh what the hell

“It’s not like you’ll remember it anyway”

Before you even know what you’re doing or change your mind, you lean in, heart thudding and pull him in by the jacket lapels.

Jareth seems to spring out of his drunken state, suddenly fully awake and eagerly aims for your mouth, but you turn your head so he only snags your cheek.

You still manage to catch the warmth of his breath and the tip of his soft lips.

You draw away, but he removes his hands from behind his head to cling to your forearms pulling you in closer for more.

“ohhhh no, uh-uh!” you laughed wriggling away from his wandering hands. You push his head back onto the pillows.

Jareth can’t fight back, too inebriated and pouts against the plush cushion with his arms folded    “ ’snot fair” he mumbles.

You can’t help but giggle at his sulky state “good night you royal pain in the arse”. You pull the cover over him.

“Mmmf” he rubs his eyes and turns over.

You shake your head and it’s not long before he’s snoring.

You sigh, no bed for you tonight.  

You manage to whip off a blanket from under his leg and tug one of the pillows out from underneath him forcefully.

He’s spread himself diagonally, giving you little to no room left so you settle for the floor. At least the rug is thick.

It’s not ideal, but did you have much choice?  

You close your eyes, begging for sleep after an exhausting day.

The noise startles you.

What in the hell

It was Jareth’s snores. Oh for the love of-

You clap your hands over your ears. This couldn’t be happening. Why is it so loud!

You lie on your side, firmly closing your eyes hoping to just drift off  but the snoring is relentless.

“ Jareth for fuck’s sake ” you say aloud

you imagine stuffing one of the pillows in his mouth. Ugh! Would it be wrong to shove him off and pretend he rolled over too far in his sleep? No you couldn’t, that would be so mean, those stones would hurt.

Cosmic! Just cosmic!

[platypanthewriter]

Come from Australia, clutching at hope

First Second Third Fourth Fifth(previous)  Chapter Six (for @ihni​)

Billy melted into Harrington’s hands, his head starting to feel like it was floating high over his body.

Harrington laughed when he mumbled that observation, and leaned in for a wet kiss, before rubbing soap into his mustache. Billy smacked his hands away. Harrington whooped with laughter as Billy hacked and spat, glowering. The water splashed the vomiting swan faucets as Harrington staggered back, cackling with laughter, and Billy watched him, forgetting about the soap in the man’s giddy joy.

“We should do this every day,” Harrington said breathlessly, and Billy flapped a hand out to draw him close enough to kiss. Harrington hummed against his mouth. “After hunting. The Fair Folk are just like anyone, you know, some of them are criminals, and we get more of them here—the villagers—they depend on—” he mumbled excitedly into Billy’s kisses. “You could—you could ride with us. I’ll carry your throne around at the Hunt Ball.”

The hot water lapped at Billy’s chin, and he swallowed, his cheeks burning as his head spun. He let his eyes close as Harrington held his face. “You’re one of them, aren’t you,” Billy whispered. “The Fair Folk. Offering me bribes. What do you want, Harrington?”

“I want you to stay,” Harrington kissed his mouth, then his cheeks, then his eyelids, and Billy burned hotter, leaning forward to rest his head against Harrington’s.

“And if I eat of your food, I can never leave?” Billy asked, grinning, and kissing him.

“Is that all it takes?” Harrington laughed, sliding his arms around Billy’s neck, hot and wet from the bath. His breath was warm against Billy’s ear. “I’ll make you a sandwich, and you’re mine forever?”

“I ate Robin’s scone, earlier,” Billy admitted, smiling helplessly, and Harrington jerked back.

“I’ll have to challenge her. Win you back, fair youth.”

Billy started giggling at the idea of Harrington forever challenging anyone who invited him to dinner, and Harrington pulled him close again, snickering, and running careful hands through his hair. His wet fingers snagged against Billy's tangles, and so Harrington nudged him sideways, supporting his neck and head as he dunked him just far enough into the water that Billy could still see, and breathe, and feel Harrington’s other hand combing through his curls under the water. He groaned. “...’twill take more than tea and cakes to seduce me from your side.”

“Good,” he thought Harrington said, though it was hard to hear him with water lapping in his ears. He was rubbing some sort of lather into Billy’s hair, and Billy was losing track of the conversation. “I could carry scones around, in case.”

“Please don’t,” Billy snorted, mumbling, “—don’t stuff me like a goose every time I smile at someone else—”

“I will,” Harrington promised. “I’ll keep a screw of peppermints in my saddlebag. I’ll be ready to push one against your lips, and kiss you until the flavor is gone.”

“...that’s fine,” Billy said faintly, even hotter, mostly under the water, secure in Harrington’s hands. He drifted as Harrington carefully rinsed his hair around his face and ears, and came to himself, a little, as the hand under his head lifted him back out of the water.

Harrington scooped his other arm under Billy’s legs, and carried him up the tiled stairs out of the bath. Billy leaned into the soft buffeting of cloth against his head, and let his face fall against Harrington’s neck again as he was hoisted up and hefted into the hallway. They paused before Harrington’s bedroom door, and Billy blinked back to alertness, sniggering as he realized Harrington couldn’t reach the knob.

“Set me down,” he laughed, shivering in the cool air.

“You’re dizzy from the hot water,” Harrington huffed, squeezing him tighter, and Billy laughed against his shoulder, and wondered whether to admit it wasn’t the water, or the heat. Harrington turned his back to the door, bending his knees to try and push the knob with his elbow, and Billy cackled, sliding his arms around the man’s neck.

The latch clicked.

“Told you,” Harrington muttered, and Billy couldn’t stop laughing, wiping his eyes.

“My mighty king,” he wheezed, and Harrington tossed him across the bed, grinning, and crawled up beside him.

Billy let his legs fall apart, as predictable as clockwork. He wrapped them around Harrington’s waist, pulling him closer, when Harrington went still, laid a warm hand on Billy’s chest, his thumb stroking through the hair there, and then pushed away to walk to the door.

Billy sat up, his heart pounding in a less delighted way than before, and pulled a pillow over his rigid cock. “...I should find my trousers,” he muttered, as Harrington cracked the door open, then stuck his head out.

“They’ve left food,” Harrington whispered over his shoulder, smile wide. He returned with a massive silver tray, heaped with sliced meat, cheese , butter and jam, seedy bread, and oranges . “Sorry,” he said, lowering it on the bed between them, and leaning in for a kiss. “I’m starving.”

Billy resisted the urge to plant his knee in the middle of the tray on the way to landing full-bodied across Harrington. He reached out and took a grape, rolling it between his fingers, and trying not to look at the trickles of water running down Harrington’s shoulders from his hair.

“I have to feed you to keep you, after all,” Harrington told him, leaning in for a kiss, and Billy relented, turning to sit facing the tray. “Want to feed me some meat?” Harrington offered, rolling a slice and leaning to prod it against Billy’s lips.

Billy couldn’t help but snicker, and opened his mouth to run his tongue along the slice of beef, before making an indignant noise as Harrington shoved it in. The grape fell, cold against his naked leg, and he gave a muffled yelp, glowering over as he tried to chew through the wad of dead cow in his mouth.

“Sorry,” Harrington said, peeling an orange, but he was grinning at it, and Billy threw the grape at his head.

Billy finally managed to tear off the chunk of flesh Harrington had wedged in his craw, feeling like a sabertoothed lion taxidermy in a Wonders of the World exhibit, stuffed.

“Maybe meat isn’t safe in your mouth,” Harrington said to the orange, and Billy growled. “Maybe I ought to—”

“Try me,” Billy hissed, patting around for the grape, and throwing it at Harrington again.

“With this orange, I beg your forgiveness,” Harrington said, leaning in to push the sweet fruit in against Billy’s mutter. It was tart, and fresh, and Billy swallowed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand so he wouldn’t drool.

“Maybe after a few more,” Billy huffed, accepting another slice, and licking at Harrington’s fingers. “I didn’t know the food of the Highlands was available in colors,” he told Harrington, eyeing the bread, meat, and cheese, and Harrington snorted a laugh.

“There is fruit here, in summer,” he said, and Billy hummed doubtfully. “Berries, apples…” he leaned to pop another orange piece in Billy’s mouth, thinking. “Plums, uh, pears—I can buy you oranges. I’ll buy you oranges,” he promised, frowning from the tray to the orange in his hand.

“Harrington,” Billy said, laughing and reaching over to grab his hand and the next orange slice, “—I can live on your dirt-colored food. You don’t need to bribe me with oranges.”

“I could buy—”

“Harrington,” Billy interrupted, leaning in to take the orange slice, and sliding Harrington’s fingers into his mouth. He pulled back with a pop. “I would stay and eat dirt. I would stay with you, and eat dirt.”

Harrington opened his mouth, then closed it, ducking his head. “I’d rather buy you oranges—” he said, smiling up, and Billy leaned to swirl his tongue around the man’s fingers again.

“I could also live on cock,” he whispered, and Harrington snorted, hooking his fingers around Billy’s lower teeth, and pulling him close enough to kiss his cheek. Billy thought they’d finally shove the tray aside, and he’d get his mouth on Harrington’s whole body again, when the man shoved him back.

“My necklace,” Harrington muttered, unhooking the clasp, and tossing it over to his endtable.

“...I told you, it’s most likely my mind,” Billy glanced at the dark iron coil, then back to Harrington’s face. “Mad fancies. She was—”

“You said iron hurts, right?” Harrington frowned at him, reaching out with another orange segment.

“It leaves no mark,” Billy said, laughing, and licked Harrington’s fingers as he accepted the orange. “You see where I touched it last night—”

“You went still,” Harrington muttered, taking his hand to look.

“I’m probably loony,” Billy repeated, no longer worried about phrasing it gently. “I’ll start talking to people who aren’t there.” He bit his lips, taking a piece of cheese, and breaking it up into crumbs. “I could hurt someone.”

“No,” Harrington said, and Billy looked up, opening his mouth to point out that telling his mind not to run completely mad wasn’t likely to work, but Harrington cut him off by shoving another piece of orange between his lips. “No, that’s—that won’t happen. She was confused. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“...even if that’s true, I would have died,” Billy pointed out, swallowing.

“You will be fine,” Harrington rolled his eyes. “If—if you try to drown anyone, I’ll stop you.”

“...my…” Billy trailed off, and Harrington tossed another orange segment in his open mouth. “Mmf. You’re too good to be true, Harrington. You’ll get bored, and...you’re going to wall me up somewhere, aren’t you? The haunted room.”

Harrington snorted. “I absolutely am. Chain you to the bed.” Billy burst into snickers, falling to his side on the bed, and Harrington grinned down at the tray. “I can...I’ll keep you safe. I—I wouldn’t really wall you up—”

“I know you wouldn’t put me in the dungeon of your castle, Harrington,” Billy told him, pattting around for the grape again, and flicking it at Harrington’s face.

It hit his knee, and he grabbed it, and reached out to drop it on Billy’s ear. “It’s not a castle. And if, ah, if your mother was from around here, we can ask around. Someone will know.”

They finished off the tray between them, while Billy was lost in thought, until he noticed Harrington was shivering, his hair still dripping down his shoulders. When the last bite of cheese had been downed, Billy got up and moved the tray aside, then grabbed both Harrington’s hands, and drew him over to the rug in front of the fire.

“Now for the feast I want,” Billy whispered, pushing Harrington down onto the rug. Harrington laughed, trying to pull him down, but Billy grabbed both of his hands. The fire lit them both orangey, and Billy chased a droplet of water down Harrington’s chest with his tongue, and kissed his belly. Harrington cackled, and squirmed, curling away, and Billy pinned him, ignoring the sting in his skinned forearm and knees.

“Mercy!” Harrington yelled, and Billy grinned, kissing lower on his trembling sides. Harrington batted weakly at his face, writhing and kicking, and Billy gave the man’s side one last rub with his whole face—Harrington yelped, flailing a foot—and then took mercy as asked, and slid his lips over Harrington’s prick. The fluffy rug stuck to his forearm and elbows, so he slid his hands along Harrington’s hips, feeling him relax.

Harrington was still laughing, hands over his face. “Now you know I’m ticklish, I’ll have no peace.”

Billy lifted his head from the man’s cock. “Truly. I’ll tickle you all hours of the day and night, as you fear.”

Harrington propped himself up on his elbow, reaching down to run his fingers through Billy’s hair. “You think that’s what I fear?”

Billy avoided answering by sliding his mouth back over the hot, wet skin of Harrington’s cock, and humming inquisitively. Harrington bucked up into his mouth, and apologized profusely, stroking his hair. Billy yanked his elbow off the rug again, wincing, to steady Harrington, and Harrington’s fingers in his hair tightened.

“Hargrove, stop.”

Billy stilled, unresisting as Harrington pushed his head up and off Harrington’s cock.

“You’re bleeding,” Harrington whispered, running his fingers down his own side, and rubbing them together to show blood where Billy’s scabs had soaked away in the bath, and he’d crawled around.

“My apologies,” he whispered back. “I scraped them when I fell—”

“Get off of me,” Harrington pushed him away, stood up, and wandered around the bed, and Billy sat back, wondering darkly whether he was really less interesting than the status of a rug. “Come over here, idiot,” Harrington called over. Billy used the footboard of the enormous carved bed to pull himself up, his muscles shaking after the lack of sleep, and length of the day. Harrington pushed him to sit on the featherbed, and began unwrapping bandages, and Billy laughed. “Stop laughing,” Harrington muttered, brushing a kiss across Billy’s mouth, “—this is difficult enough without you raising my flagpole higher—”

“I beg your pardon,” Billy laughed, reaching out to thumb over Harrington’s prick. It jerked in his hand, dripping.

Harrington smacked his hand away with a growl. “I mean it,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Billy’s temple. “Let me finish. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I skinned my knees,” Billy laughed, letting himself be pushed back onto the bed. “Like a child. I am sorry for your rug, but—”

“Sssh,” Harrington told him, dabbing at a pot of ointment. “Hush. Let me finish.”

Billy waited through Harrington bandaging both of his knees, and his forearm, and then his eyes started to flutter as Harrington rubbed warm hands over the raw skin of his back where he’d slid down the stones, and up into his scars.

He woke curled on his side, covered in down comforter, with Harrington’s calloused hand stroking his chest, and Harrington’s hard cock nestled against his ass cheeks. Harrington was laughing, kissing his neck.

“Did you fall asleep?” he whispered, lifting his hand away—with a groan of protest from Billy—to return it covered with something slippery, ointment or oil, that he rubbed into the scarred, puckered skin across Billy’s shoulderblades.

“...no,” Billy lied, knowing he should sit up, and properly seduce Harrington, and entirely too contented to try.

“You did,” Harrington breathed against his ear, and Billy’s prick twitched, still semi-hard. He couldn’t bear to move, though—warm, sleepy, and carefully bandaged, with Harrington rubbing strong fingers against the tight muscles in his back. Billy waited for Harrington’s fingers to dip lower—he didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but surely Harrington had to be getting impatient. When Harrington reached away again for slippery stuff, and again didn’t let his hand stray low enough to so much as fist himself, Billy leaned back into him, blinking until Harrington’s smiling brown eyes came into focus.

“You can fuck me,” he said, squirming so he pressed back against Harrington’s lap. Harrington stilled, taking a shaky breath that turned into a laugh. “You’re three-quarters asleep, are you—”

Billy hummed, letting his eyes close, and mumbled, “Can you imagine...better way to wake up?”

After a period of stillness, Harrington leaned back again, waving his arm away, before sliding his hand down Billy’s back, and down between his upper thighs. “...do you want me inside you?” he whispered, kissing Billy’s neck, “—or should I just slide against you, here?”

Billy shuddered, his prick more awake than any other part of him. “Mmnn,” he said, into the pillow.

Harrington laughed, kissed behind Billy’s ear, and ran his hand down between Billy’s thighs.

Billy rocked back against him, crossing his ankles to tighten the space between his legs, and threw his arm back to pull Harrington against him when the man hesitated again. “Not somebody have to be gentle with,” he muttered nonsensically, and Harrington stopped entirely, but Billy flapped his hand around getting Harrington’s prick properly between his slick thighs, and bucked his hips.

Harrington grunted in his ear, squeezing his side hard enough to leave bruises. “Hargrove—”

He whispered, and Billy shut his eyes tighter, the easy comfort starting to melt away as he realized he was handling things incorrectly, and Harrington was pulling back.

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded into the pillow, and Harrington sighed into his hair. Billy propped himself up on his elbow, frowning back over his shoulder. “D’you want my mouth? Want me in your lap again? Tell me plainly, Harrington, or I’ll keep putting my feet wrong—”

“No,” Harrington slumped back against the pillows, tugging the hand free that had been under Billy’s head, and covering his face.

Billy swallowed what felt like a weight. “...do you want me to leave?”

“...no,” Harrington groaned. “Damn it. What do you want?”

“Anything,” Billy answered honestly, laughing. “Give me anything, I’m content. Tell me what you—”

He cut off, muffled as Harrington rolled to throw a leg over him, pinning him into the pillows and licking into his mouth. Billy winced at the weight on his skinned elbow, but hummed into the kiss, and Harrington pushed himself up to shove Billy back onto his uninjured side. “What if I fist your cock,” he murmured against Billy’s lips, and Billy jerked against him, then laughed.

“Please,” he whispered back, and Harrington kissed him again, slowly, pressing him into the downy pillows. Billy squirmed, feeling his cock leak. He was panting when Harrington finally settled behind him, pulling him close, and kissing open-mouthed down the back of his neck.

“Nothing hurts?” Harrington asked, biting gently at Billy’s ear.

“Nothing,” Billy confirmed, arching his back as he tried not to just yank himself to completion and end the bewildering wait. The silken blankets were too warm, suddenly, and he kicked them back, and heard the rattle of the tray hitting the floor. Harrington’s laughter and kisses were hot and moist against his neck.

When Harrington’s hand finally settled around his cock, Billy groaned, his fingers clenching on the man’s arm.

Billy’s eyes fluttered shut again, this time at the sensations of Harrington’s prick between his thighs, stroking in and out, and Harrington’s calloused thumb rubbing across the tip of his cock.

He lasted only a very short time.

He came to himself wrapped securely in Harrington’s arms, pleasantly warm, and a little sweaty. “I’ve found where I want to live,” he mumbled, and Harrington squeezed him.

“Have you?” he whispered back, a little breathlessly, into Billy’s curls.

Billy was brash with contentment. “Here,” he murmured back. “You’ll have to stay in this bed forever.”

“I can come to grips with that,” Harrington returned, and then started to giggle, and Billy groaned. Harrington kissed his hair again, and squirmed away, clambering out of bed—with a muttered oath from Billy—to climb back in, and slide a warm wet cloth down Billy’s belly, and around his thighs. He tossed it on the floor and settled back in, pulling Billy against him.

Why does he have to be Harrington, Billy wondered, and took a deep breath. “...shall we go look?”

“No,” Harrington muttered into his neck. “Stay here. We can look in the morning.”

“...I’d love to, it’s only that—”

“I thought you wanted to stay here forever?” Harrington asked him, crisply, his fingernails clenching into Billy’s ribs. “Was that all you wanted? Now you have to hurry off and help your slaver father?”

“No,” Billy shook his head, forcing himself to relax back against Harrington again. “You’re right.”

“...sorry,” Harrington whispered, squeezing Billy’s shoulders, and breathing unevenly against his neck. “Sorry, I—that was unacceptable, I’m—sorry. I should—I should trust you, right? You saved my life. I can trust you.”

Billy swallowed, his eyes fixed on the toy dragon ship Harrington had played with as a child, before his father’s betrayal—or his hero’s betrayal, or both, depending on how horrible a day little Harrington was having, probably. He wondered what Harrington would do, presented with his father’s business endeavors—and how serious the rule had been, against setting fires. “I am in no hurry to leave your bed,” he said, finally, though the chance to finally know the truth of himself gleamed enticingly in his imagination, just down the hall.

Billy waited until Harrington was asleep, snoring gently against his hair, and slid out of his arms, crawling down the bed to pull on his ragged trousers. His shirt was ripped as well, where he’d slid down the broken tombstones, and landed in the rubble, so he stuffed it in his bag and shrugged on his jacket. The cantrip on the door was already broken, and he slid inside, unhooking his pendant and swinging it around seeking things of importance. That was better, immediately, than the vague what my father wants he had sought that afternoon, and he found three hidden drawers in the huge desk—one contained pound notes with blood on them, and he quickly tucked them away—and was prying at a loose floorboard when the floor creaked behind him.

“A thief in the night,” came Thomas Hall’s voice, and Billy scrambled to his feet, cursing himself for forgetting it might not be Harrington who found him.

“I’ve Harrington’s leave to search,” Billy said, raising his open hands, and realizing how unlikely it sounded at Thomas’ widening grin. The clock read a quarter after three in the morning.

“He’s an idiot,” Thomas said, circling him to sit against the desk. “He’d believe anything you told him, after the spectacle you made on the mountain. Are you the missing heir to his fortune? No? Did you save his father’s life at sea?”

Billy shook his head, feeling an unpleasant sympathy with anyone protecting Harrington. “Nothing like that, I don’t want—”

“It doesn’t matter. Your little ginger firebrand will find her way out in no time—”

“What did you do to Max—” Billy yelled, turning on his heel towards the door, and Thomas kicked the rolling desk chair out so Billy stumbled over it, falling sideways to crack his head against the wall.

“Not much, yet,” Thomas crouched next to him, watching him try to shake his head clear. “Shut her in the larder. Listen. I have money as well. Not as much as the Harringtons,” he said, snorting, “—but I’ll give you a fine purse to disappear now, tonight, before he wakes—”

“He gave me leave to search,” Billy repeated, bracing himself on all fours, and shaking his head. He could see flashing lights with his eyes closed.

“And that would be why you’re prying up boards in his father’s room, hours before dawn,” Thomas crouched, hissing in his ear. “Harrington may have nothing between his ears, but I don’t. Get out. Never speak to him again, or I’ll see you hung as the thief you are, and your snide little sister with you.”

Billy punched him in the stomach.

Thomas swore, crashing sideways into the desk chair, and smacking his elbow on the side of the desk. The chair rolled into the side of the bed, and letters flew like a kicked pile of leaves. Billy grabbed Thomas’ foot to drag him out of the mess, and Thomas kicked back at him, trying to roll onto his arms and knees. He drug half the carpet and the chair with him into the front of the room, trying to scramble away from Billy’s booted feet, then got an arm around Billy’s knees and yanked him down.

The floorboards thudded like a drum under them, a cloud of dust and hair flapping up from yanking the carpet around. Thomas clambered to pin him, got a fist in his hair to slam his head against the ground, and Billy swore, grabbing at the arm clenched in his hair and rolling his hips and legs until he could tip Tommy far enough to smack his back into the wooden edge of the bedframe. Somebody started pounding at the door, Max’s voice demanding Billy open up, and Thomas grabbed him by the hair and smashed his head into the floor.

The door thudded and creaked as someone slammed against it, and Billy’s hands loosened as his head clonked into the floor a few more times. Thomas stood, stomped the heel of his boot into Billy’s ribs and shoulder, and Billy grabbed at him, trying to pull himself up.

The onslaught against the door was loud in their soft noises of thuds and pained grunts—something was bashing against it, now.

Thomas staggered as Billy grabbed his jacket and yanked downward, but he grabbed the desk chair for balance, and shoved Billy back down with his foot. He grabbed the oak, iron-wheeled desk chair, slamming the base into Billy’s head, and the sharp pain made him let go of Tommy’s clothes, trying to catch it.

Tommy used both hands to swing it again, and the world whirled away in nausea and darkness.

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Price to be Paid - Chapter 26

AO3 link here

When you arrived back at camp everyone seemed to be buzzing. A new energy flowed through the air, connecting all of you together in a fabricated sort of high. The mayor’s party had gone exceptionally well, at least three new leads for big jobs had been found and Dutch sat in the gazebo hunched over his table stewing over which to pursue first. The gang needed money, and a lot of it, if they were to leave this life of living on the run. You weren’t quite sure where you fit into that plan but hoped it would all be clear soon. 

Arthur swung down off of Zeus and was immediately called over by Hosea and Dutch. He cast a smile and rolled his eyes before heading off to see what those two needed from him now. 

You approached Abigail who was in the middle of trying to get Jack to eat. 

“Well, how did things go?”

You told her all about your trip into Saint Denis and how the party went. The beautiful backdrop the twinkling lights provided and how Dutch’s plan seemed to have gone well, the multiple plans he had thought of and ways to get money. It really was a success, and you hinted at how your night after had been just as successful, too. 

Abigail blushed but slapped your arm playfull. “You sly thing! Maybe soon you’ll have a little one on the way.” 

The thought made you falter. The last time you and Arthur spoke about having children he had made it painfully clear his own insecurities were holding him back even if you saw the paternal potential that was inside of him. As you mulled over the idea you brought your hand to your stomach and imagined what it would be like to grow human life inside of you. 

“Well, either way I have to drop these clothes off before Grimshaw rips my head off. Haven’t done a chore in a few days and I know she can smell that…” you smiled and headed towards Shady Belle. Sadie sat whittling away at something on the front porch and she tipped her hat as you walked into the house. 

From downstairs Arthur and Dutch’s voices floated in as they talked about their plan to rob the trolley station in the city. They moved upstairs and into Dutch’s room, out of earshot where you folded your clothes and set aside others to be washed. 

You hummed a song to yourself and admired the way the light shone on your reflection when a shrill scream pierced the afternoon. You froze, the sound making your blood run cold. Loud sobs rang out from the front of the house as your heard Mary Beth wail. 

“It’s Kieran!”

“What the hell have they done to him?” Arthur yelled. 

At the same time Dutch called out, “Everybody take cover!” and gunshots rang out as Shady Belle was attacked. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Your hands fumbled at the ammunition on the shelves of your room. You knew you had to get out there and help but somehow the erratic pace of your breathing made it difficult to focus. Thundering steps ran by outside the door and you know it was Arthur. 

Arthur. Your anchor was running into danger. You needed to get it together. 

With that grounding thought in your head you barged out and followed the sound of gunfire. Karen nearly ran you over, a rifle in her hands, as she hurried to get outside. She grabbed a box of bullets and gave you a hard look as she steeled herself to go and defend the camp. 

“It’s the O’Driscoll boys!”

You weren’t sure who said it, but a series of memories flashed through your mind at the thought of your last encounter with that particular group. Flames, your hands hanging from bloody ropes, the blazing pain as Colm shot a bullet into your thigh. It was suddenly too much and you dropped the ammunition you had brought down around you, falling slowly to the floor on your hands and knees. 

It was like Colm was standing there again with his hand around your neck, threatening to end your life right then and there. 

In the distance you could hear the panicked sounds coming from the horses and in the back of your mind you hoped Eclipse had gotten away. The front door was shoved open and Jack came flying in after John shoved him. He looked terrified with tears running down his cheeks, and you snapped back to yourself. “Jack! C’mon, let’s go we’ll be safe.”

Jack put up a protest for a moment but let you scoop him up and run back upstairs to the safety of your room. Sitting on the bed Jack crawled into your lap and shook with the fear of what he had just seen. The door to your room burst open and you clutched Jack tightly until you saw Tilly and Molly scurry in. 

“Where are the others?”

“Shooting. Dutch sent the women and children in, everyone else is holding their ground.”

As if on cue Grimshaw and Mary Beth came in breathing heavy from running. Karen opened it a few minutes later with a gun in her hand. “C’mon, I need help boarding up the windows and doors. Who’s with me?” Tilly and Grimshaw followed quickly as Abigail rushed in. 

“Oh, my boy thank you YN! John grabbed him but I was around the corner and didn’t see if he made it. Thank god you’re safe,” she pulled him from your lap and the sudden lack of comfort struck you cold. “It’s a nightmare out there, they seem to be everywhere. The boys and Sadie are holding them down but,” she cuts off as Mary Beth lets out a small sob and does her best to cover her mouth. 

You were still in shock. “What happened?” You looked around at mournful faces. “I was up here, is...is he okay?” 

Nobody spoke. There was a silence broken only by Mary Beth’s quiet sobs from the corner where she had wrapped her arms around herself. 

Molly finally answered you though. “He was sent ahead of the attack. It...he was on horseback, with his head in his lap,” she raised a dainty hand at the thought, but you were confused. It seemed that Arthur may have to explain it later as no one was in shape to relive that moment. 

Kieran was sweet and seemed to be redeeming himself steadily. He had done good work with the horses and Mary Beth was always ready with a smile for him. Dutch had even gone so far as talk about bringing him on a job someday, something Kieran held onto with so much hope. A dream. Something to live for. 

“Everyone, back inside! We need to block off that door, there’s too many of them.” Dutch barked and could be heard throughout the house. 

“Is everyone accounted for?” 

Your heart squeezed at Arthur’s shout. His mind was always with others, even in the face of battle. Someone yelled something back and you could hear glass breaking as Arthur leapt out to the yard to attack. The gunshots were getting louder as the battle moved to the back. Arthur was an excellent shot, the best you had ever seen. His skills had been honed by years and years of knowing his aim meant life or death, so you closed your eyes and prayed to whoever might be listening to give him safe passage to protect the others. 

A thought crossed your mind after Mary Beth asked something about the O’Driscolls and how they had found the camp. Those few months ago you were held captive because of a deal your father made. Had he somehow tracked you down again? Paid Cold and his gang to come collect you in exchange for going free from the law? You wouldn’t put it past your father but the thought of everyone being in danger because of you rattled your heart more than you cared to admit. 

It seemed to go on for ages. Those in the room flinched every time a yell went out in fear that it was someone they knew. But Tilly would look out the window and confirm that Charles had run by just fine, and made a noise of surprise as Sadie Adler knifed a man just to turn around and shoot another. She sounded impressed, like she respected the woman for finally coming back to life. Eventually Hosea opened the door and told you all to come outside, it was safe again. 

You walked slowly behind the others. Hosea wrapped an arm around Mary Beth’s shoulders as she continued to cry, and Abigail clung tightly to Jack. It was good to see your community strong and holding together, even if you may have been the cause. 

“Arthur,” you breathed as soon as the front doors opened. You ran to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the gun from his hands hit the ground next to you as he did the same. The two of you stood silently for a moment, letting the reality settle in that you were both still alive and breathing. 

“You okay?”

You nodded. “I-I feel like a fool. I froze when I heard it was O’Driscolls, just got caught up in what happened all that time ago when I got holed up with them. I swear I felt Colm in the room with me, his hands on my neck again.”

His features softened. “Ain’t nothing to be ashamed about. You survived something terrible, you’re allowed a little time to let that wound heal.” 

You squeezed his arm and let him go over to join Charles, Dutch, Hosea, and John who were planning their next move. Reverend Swanson and Hosea removed Kieran’s body and head and the image of what happened made your stomach roll. Molly’s words rang in your ears as they moved out of sight. 

“Colm O’Driscoll...that man can really hate.” 

Dutch looked out across the fields thinking. “So can I, Arthur. So can I. We need to get moving. Away from here.” 

“Another camp?”

“You ain’t thinking big enough, Arthur.” Dutch laughed darkly as he formulated a plan. “You ain’t seeing the vastness of our problems and our opportunities. It will make sense in time. I’ll be back soon, then we’re robbing that trolley station!” Dutch clapped his hands together and took off to find the Count before leaving for who knew where. You saw the last puff of dirt fly up as you heaved another dead O’Driscoll up from the ground. It was taxing and grueling work, but everyone was chipping in to make sure the camp was safe and secured. 

Everyone except for Dutch, the little voice in your mind said. 

That evening everyone was quiet as they ate dinner around the campfire. The need for company outweighed the need for conversation and the time passed peacefully to the sound of crackling wood. You sat next to Arthur, as close as you could be without disrespecting the others in camp with being over the top. 

“You gonna eat that or just play with it all night, darlin’?” Arthur had noticed your loss of appetite and poked your side playfully. 

The slop in your bowl was bland, making it harder and harder to choke down. And it somehow reminded you of the carnage you had seen earlier, so when you pushed it away Arthur knew you were finished. 

“I can’t stop thinking about how they found us, they knew exactly how to attack. We were caught off guard even with people on patrols. And Kieran…” You shook your head thinking. “How can we ever forgive ourselves, Arthur? He was, he didn’t deserve that.”

Arthur swung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. For a few minutes the two of you sat in silence, simply trying to cope. You had a nagging thought in the back of your mind that the O’Driscoll attack had something to do with you and your father and Colm, and that feeling seemed to blossom the more you dwelled on it. 

“Kieran was...he had a good life with us. We fed him, clothed him, he was free and worked doing what he loved. A man can’t ask for much more than that, and we should remember him for the good things he put into the world, not the terrible way he…” Arthur waved his hand out into the night sky. “You know. All that business.” 

You nodded and pulled your bowl back to push the slop around at least having something to do. Quiet murmurs went around the group but no one really talked, even Sean for once was sitting silently next to Karen, his fingers dragging lazy patterns on her knee. Javier was polishing his set of knives and Charles walked the perimeter. You could almost see his eyes dart every which way from your spot by the fire as he slowly secured the grounds, on high alert since Mary Beth’s scream earlier in the day. The piercing sadness still rang in your ears. 

The sound of an approaching horse had everyone standing instantly. Your hands shook at your sides as terror rose in you like bile at the back of your throat. Were they back? Did they get word from your father to attack again?

But it was only Dutch and the Count, back from their day out in the city. Or wherever Dutch went to be alone.

He swung down and greeted the group from across the grounds of Shady Belle. As he approached you realized you couldn't hold this secret inside of you for much longer. Someone had to know why the O’Driscolls attacked and that it was your fault poor Kieran had been brutally murdered in such a cold way. Your hands shook later that night even as Arthur’s arms held you tight in bed, nothing seemed to be able to calm the storm raging inside of you. 

The secret of your father that you held was too heavy to carry alone, but you were terrified of what the others would say. That it was no coincidence you were found back in Blackwater. That you had planned this all from the start and didn’t really care for anyone. You were terrified to think of Abigail’s face, how she would hide Jack behind her with a shove and point a shaky finger at you begging John to put her out of her misery and kill you. You saw Karen and Sean snarl, positively feral as they ran you out of camp with threats pouring from their lips. You winced at the thought of Hosea’s eyes turning to stone as he left you to the mercy of the swamps, offering you nothing but a nod as you left to fend for yourself. 

One thing you were absolutely certain of was that Arthur could not find out who your father was. In your mind they were two pillars of the same building, each standing for their own values and upholding an idea they were ready to die and collapse for. Arthur would accuse you of never truly loving him and hearing something like that would break your heart. The image of his heartbroken face staring right at you was too much, it was a thought you pushed as far away from your mind as possible. 

Dreams of wild beasts chasing you through flames and from your home plagued you for nearly a week before you woke up Arthur with your screams and sobs. 

“YN! Jesus, you’ll wake the whole house. Come back to me, love, it’s okay.” 

You felt yourself bolt upright, out of control, desperate to escape whatever dream had been after you that night. It must have been early as no light came through the windows. A sob ripped through you again and your whole body wouldn't stop shaking as you were stuck in that in between place between dreaming and being awake. Arthur grabbed your arm and you shook him off before you realized who it was. The tears hung to your eyelashes but you quickly blinked them away, pressing the heel of your hands into your eyes to try and calm your racing heart. 

“Honey you gotta talk to me. What in the world is going on with you?” Arthur’s accent seemed to get stronger when he was worried, using words that normally didn’t make it into his conversations. “This is the third night in a row you’ve been waking up yelling. What can I do to help you?” 

He rubbed small circles into your back as his words washed over your fried nerves. A hiccup escaped you as you finally took the reins back again. 

“I’m scared, Arthur.” 

His hand stopped. “What of, sweetheart?” 

“I’ve never talked about my family much with you, have I?” You played with your fingers, not looking up in the dark. “I never had any siblings, it was always just me. My mother was an angel but never spoke up for herself. I swore I wouldn't be like that when I grew up, and I think that’s why my f-father and I hit heads so often, ending in…”

The phantom bruises on your body started to ache and you clamped your hands together to stop from attending to them. Arthur sat in silence, knowing that you needed to think and speak about what was dragging you into such a dark place. 

“My father is a terrible man. He’s in a terrible line of work and lets the small amount of power he has corrupt him into something I don’t recognize. I’m real scared of my father f-finding us. It’s...he’s a complicated man, and it’s complicated between us but I know that if he ever found me I...I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Darlin’, I know he was a monster who hit you, but you have to believe me that he or anyone else will never touch you again while I’m here. I know I’m just some old, ugly man that you got stuck with but I would do anything to keep you safe. You’re my new home.” 

The sweet words made your heart feel like it was about to burst and you looked up at Arthur for the first time in your conversation. For one small second, the world was right. The man you loved, who you were set to marry, loved you more than you deserved. Your father had made sure you were ruined the moment you left home. No one like you should be loved unconditionally like Arthur was pledging to do. You would only bring pain and destruction to his life. 

“I promise. He will never find you as long as I’m around.” You raised a hand to Arthur’s cheek and drew yourself in for a kiss. Hopefully it conveyed just how much everything he said meant to you. 

The next morning you felt better. Cleaner, fresher, as if that made any sense. You brushed your hair and braided the short locks down your back and out of your eyes, you woke up before Arthur. His sleeping form entranced you and he had been up with you late into the night comforting you during another nightmare so you crept out of the room and downstairs to get a start on helping around Shady Belle. 

A deep breath cleared your mind and you took in the group meandering around the camp. Near Pearson’s table a pot of steaming coffee sat alone, so you poured a cup and let the warmth seep into your bones and relax you. Arthur was right, nothing could get in your way. 

“Morning, princess,” a snide voice broke through your serenity. 

“Micah.” 

“What, no greeting? No good to see you back after slaving around for the gang and making sure we’re safe and sound?” 

“I’m not in the mood. Please, just let me drink my coffee and -”

“Plot something?” 

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion at his words. Micah wore a smirk that said he knew more than you did and it made your hackles stand up, instantly on guard. 

“And what would I be plotting, Micah?”

“Oh,” he walked slowly around you, taunting you. “Nothing I would know about, that’s for sure. Maybe something a little less dramatic this time? Something that won’t put your targets in harm’s way? Better for the end goal now, ain’t it?”

You slammed the coffee down as your patience ran out and anxiety took its place. “What in the hell are you talking about?” 

“I know.” He leaned in to whisper. You had enough and left to find something to do when he called out again. “Seems you’re more than meets the eye, Miss Moore.” You stopped dead in your tracks but refused to turn around. “But, if you insist, I’ll leave you alone. Princess Pinkerton.”

The knife was pressed against his throat before you realized you had even moved. Micah only laughed as you weren’t really a threat, more of an annoyance but you were breathing hard in the morning sun as he batted your hand away.

“What did you say to me?” 

“I told you I knew,” he chuckled. “Seems you got some explaining to do as to why you got a whole detective agency after you, little Miss Pinkerton.” 

He didn’t know. Or at least, not all of it. The fact that your father was the detective in charge of bringing in the Van der Linde gang had escaped him. 

You took a steadying breath. “How did you find out?”

He met your response with a slow smile and pulled out a ripped piece of paper from his pocket. You tried to snatch it from him but he pulled it back, only showing you when you promised not to take it. 

“When we rescued you from dear old Colm there were some papers in that house that were very interesting. Named you personally as someone of interest to the Pinkerton Detective Agency and that you were to be kept alive and unharmed until they could collect you. I knew it was strange that some small town girl just happened to wiggle her way into the gang and then we’re attacked by O’Driscolls in our home.”

“No!” you tried not to shout. “It’s not, not like that Micah. Just...they’re after me, too. I promise I would never put anyone here in danger.”

“Hard to believe when that ain’t what this signed paper says.”

Your eyes lingered on the scrap he held up and you tried to focus on what you could read off of it. Shit. Right there was your name and a note that said to keep you away from any danger like Micah had told you. It was even signed with a name that looked vaguely familiar. But strangely enough, your last name wasn’t there, just YN. A thought struck you that your father would be embarrassed his daughter had gone and hitched herself to the enemy and you sent a silent thank you that his ego had won out. 

“You’re right, that is me on that page.” Micah’s eyebrows shot up into his dirty hair as you made up a cover story on the spot. “I’ve been on the run for something I didn’t know about at the time it happened.”

“And what’s that now?” 

You batted your eyelashes innocently to buy some time. “Can’t blame a girl for falling in love, can you? I...back in Blackwater there was a man I courted. We were almost engaged, but on the day of the proposal another woman came into town.” You paused for a dramatic effect that was surely lost on Micah. “His wife. It turns out he had been married for ten years and was planning to con me out of my family inheritance. Well, two months later I get a letter saying he’s dead and that I’m wanted for going through with it even though he had gone back with his wife to the city! I’ve been on the run since then, but they want a trial which is why they asked for me to be safe. To see if I could locate the locket he left behind in Blackwater worth thousands.” 

Micah looked unimpressed. But somehow, his mind accepted this story and he dropped your gaze with a huff. “You better talk to Dutch about this.” 

You nodded and promised you would, your heart kicking up a few speeds after he stalked away. How in the world had he bought the same story you had read off the back of one of Hosea’s mystery novels?

Dutch strode down through the front doors and you realized you would need to tell him. The truth this time, not some made up story. The bubble inside of you threatened to burst with the tension you were carrying as the secret loomed heavy over your head. 

“Why, good morning YN! Did you sleep better last night? Arthur said there were some...troubles.��� 

You blushed slightly and adapted Dutch’s gait as he made his way to the gazebo with you. “Yes, thank you. Just some things on my mind. I was actually hoping that we could talk?”

Dutch stepped to the side and made a sweeping gesture, ushering you into the structure. “For you my dear, I always have an ear. Now. What can I do for you?”

“YN! Where did that woman go, Tilly you seen her? Swear I checked everywhere.” 

Arthur had finally awoken and was ready to start the day, dressed for heading into town. You walked out of the gazebo from a very pensive Dutch. He leaned his hands on the white railings after claiming the need of a few minutes to process everything you had confided in him. Dutch was a smart man; he made plans in the blink of an eye and always had the group at the heart of what he did so you were confident in your choice of who to tell. The world was lighter, you were no longer alone in knowing your secret. 

“Arthur!” You called and waved him over. He muttered something to himself and pulled you in for a chaste kiss. A smile crinkled the lines outside of his eyes that you loved so much while he told you about what he was off to do. Something to help the gang, money, the usual schtick. 

The one thing that caught your attention was the mention of Josiah Trelawney tagging along. 

“Hasn’t he been away awhile?”

Arthur nodded. “He comes and goes. Should be here soon, but Dutch seems to be alright with him wandering in and out of camp as he pleases. Like I’ve said, loyalty goes a long way with that man.” 

You smiled to yourself knowing that you had showed Dutch more loyalty by confiding in him. Hopefully he would take your words to heart. 

“Arthur, my dear boy, it has been too long!” 

Trelawney sat upon his horse as they slowly walked into camp, waving at a few shouts in his direction. The well dressed man looked healthy, smiling as he removed his top hat and avoided the mud puddles that formed on the path up to the house as he strolled to stand with you and Arthur. You were greeted with a bow. 

“I see I missed all the excitement, may I see it?”

For a moment you stood frozen, appalled that he would speak about Kieran and the attack in that way. It was very unlike Josiah and Arthur scoffed next to you. After a moment he reached out and took your left hand in his, admiring the ring on your finger and you and Arthur laughed. He meant the engagement. 

“How did you ask her, Arthur? Hopefully it was worthy of such a fine woman.”

Arthur blushed and rubbed the back of his neck as he retold the story. You could listen to him retell it over and over, it never got old. The build up as you stayed in the cabin, how he had bought you the book Pride and Prejudice after your old copy was destroyed in the fight with Micah, and how you looked when he suprised you and accepted. It was truly wonderful and you wondered how Arthur had described it in his journal. 

You slipped your hand into his and squeezed, telling him through touch how much you utterly loved him. 

“When is the ceremony then?” 

The question caught you off guard. You and Arthur hadn’t discussed how that would happen. “Hopefully soon. Just hard to find time to plan in the middle of this mess.” Arthur smiled at you as a thanks for having an answer ready. 

“Well, Arthur might I steal YN away before we head out to the boat?”

“Boat?” Arthur snorted. “Dutch didn’t say anything about a boat.”

“Ah. Well, do you at least have a nicer suite to wear? Something with less...dust. We’ll be with high society for the poker game.”

Arthur muttered something under his breath as he walked away and into the house, upset that no one told him he would have to dress up for the scheme that evening. Josiah sighed but smiled at you, a gesture that surely meant he had gone through this same routine with Arthur many times before. 

“How have you been, Josiah? We missed having you around. Your flair is one of a kind.”

The man offered you his arm to hold as you strolled around the grounds, and for the first time you saw Shady Belle as a shell of its former self. You pointed out the different spots around the house of interest, not that there were many, and conversation was easy. Talking to Josiah was like drinking a fine champagne; smooth and bubbly but not something that could be indulged in every day. 

“My dear, I did want to speak to you about something else. It’s a delicate topic, let’s sit out here away from the crowd.” He led you to a few barrels turned into seats as your stomach started to turn. 

“I ran into someone in Saint Denis who had your likeness drawn out, with longer hair of course, and offering a reward for your return.” He let the confession sit heavy in the air between you like the humidity that clung to your skin. “I know that you ran away for other reasons, but do they know who your family is? I’m afraid something bad will happen if the wrong person opens their mouth while out in the city.”

“He’s still here?” You whispered. Josiah nodded and covered your hand with his own at your distress. “Josiah I, I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell the others, they won’t understand. Like you said I ran away from him; he followed me here, I never wanted to bring harm to anyone. Least of all to those who took me in when I needed it.”

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you had someone to confide in. If that’s just me, I’ll happily hold that burden with you. Does Arthur know?”

“No.” You answered curtly. “And he can’t find out. To know he’s engaged to his enemy’s daughter? He would hate me.”

Josiah looked around to make sure no one was nearby before speaking. “My dear, I don’t think you give him enough credit, he’s a strong man who has been through his fair share of unfair circumstances and learned to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. But I won’t force your hand, of course. Some battles we need to take on ourselves.”

“I know, and it’s unfortunately my decision.” You flinched at the hard tone in your voice. “I just don’t want anyone hurt because of me. I can’t, I can’t live with that.”

“YN, we’ve all hurt people before. Eventually you have to just look out for the ones who matter.”

Arthur had lumbered out of the house and found you and Josiah sitting at the table, motioning he was ready to go. He tried to hide his fancy suit that he bought when you went to the mayor’s house, even though the thought of that evening sent your stomach into butterflies. 

You walked over and ran your hands along the buttons, fixing one that had gotten out of place. 

“Now, Josiah, make sure this fiance of mine gets back here in one piece, you hear? He’s got someone waiting for him back at home now.” Arthur chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, murmuring something sweet before heading off to his horse to leave. You watched Josiah follow him and lead Strauss and Javier out of the camp as well, wondering just what kind of trouble they had cooked up this time. 

The last bit of joy seemed to be sucked out of the air as the men left, and the weight of what happened with the O’Driscolls and poor Kieran filled the empty space. You placed a hand on your chest just to check if the hollow feeling in your heart was real or not, and almost disappointed when it wasn’t because at least physical wounds all healed. That was something you experienced first hand. 

It had taken time and work, but your leg was finally whole again after Colm had shot you. What a wild ride it had been living with the Van der Linde gang, who would have ever thought that any of this would happen to you?

Dutch stood on the balcony above, looking down at the group. He slowly smoked a cigar and you could almost see the gears moving in his mind. As he caught your eye he nodded, then looked curtly away. 

“Micah, can I ask you something?” 

The question was out of your mouth before you knew what your question was but the man stopped and dropped the bale of hay he had been trying to move. 

“Finally come to your senses and plan to ditch Morgan for a real man?”

Your stomach turned at the thought but you waved it away, eager to solve this gnawing riddle that had wormed its way into your head. 

“I need to see that paper again. Can I look at it?” 

He agreed as long as you stood right in front of him and promised not to rip or damage it in any way. You gripped the page and searched it over until you nearly had the words memorized. Maybe it had been something in the slant of your name where you could detect your father’s writing that had gripped you, or how he refused to put your last name that held its grip on you just a little bit too long. Something about this felt off…

And then you noticed it. It wasn’t anything about your name that had drawn you back to look over the paper. It was the name that approved of the order, who had sent the dogs running after your scent. 

It had been signed by Cornelius Staten. The man you met back in Rhodes.

[hvlfwygod]

MISDIRECTION | BEN

tw: violence, blood, descriptions of extensive injuries

She kept telling him, he had another option. As Ben worked up the strength and nerve to drag himself back across the ground, his mother kept reminding him, calmly, that he could use her power.

Leave me alone, he kept replying.

—

His body hurt so much, simply breathing while sprawled on the ground was an excruciating ordeal. The rocks underneath his back were almost a relief. Small, sharp divots digging into his skin that kept Ben alert. It was just enough to distract him, to morph everything else into vague, unfocused pain.

He was trying not to think about it. The aching familiarity of hands against his flesh, of curling up in the darkness, trying not to be seen, of silently assessing the damage. He was trying not to think about it.

—

All his injuries came into agonizing focus as soon as he started to move. He had one leg and one arm to pull himself from under the RV, and every motion was almost shocking with how badly it hurt. Never mind moving five feet to the door, never mind crawling up the two impossible steps that led inside. Ben nearly passed out hauling himself to the bathroom, and once he finally made it to standing, he was so dizzy he threw up bile in the sink.

You have another option, Ben.

The adrenaline from the fight was draining out of him, and in its place was an awful, painful ache. His knee was swelling, his face numb, his head throbbing. The worst was his ribcage, so dented he could barely move his left arm and it felt like weights were pressed into one of his lungs.

Chase was missing, Chase had been kidnapped, taken who knows where, and all Ben could cycle on was how terrible it was to be in his body.

He was shaking as he wiped the dried blood from his face. The lightest touch of his fingers made the bruising skin burn. Ben’s throat burned, too, as he stared at himself in the mirror. The awful familiarity of this was creeping back in, hiding just around the corner. Ben tore his gaze away.

—

Everything felt like a trap. The darkness was a threat, but turning on the lights might be a beacon. Ben fumbled through the RV and told himself he was alone, he was alone, no one was coming out of the shadows to end him. He found a dagger and held it close to him all the same.

—

He was on the bed, scraping together the ruined pieces of the pedant. All the sparkling golden light had dulled to nothing. He left it in a pile on the nightstand, a glassy reminder of their failure.

—

He ate ambrosia until he felt too, too warm.

You have another option, Ben.

Go away.

Ben found himself shivering on top of the covers, mind blank but racing, all the same. The knife was pressed into him, held close, a failsafe.

—

The panic he’d been holding back since waking up finally spilled out of him.

He was screwed, so screwed, so unbelievably screwed. Chase was gone and he could hardly walk. He was going to die, he’d known it coming up here, hadn’t he? He shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

Ben’s eyes blurred with tears but thirty seconds of sobbing and he had to stop. It hurt too much.

—

Sleep tugged at him. Ben lifted his head off the pillow until the feeling passed. He kept trying to think of what to do, but his head was swimming with fever and the whole RV seemed to be tilting back, back, back. He was so stiff, shifting even a little set off small fires.

Ben.

Hours passed with his thoughts sliding away from him. Ben was in a haze, and through the layers of numb he could remember that he shouldn’t be wasting so much time.

—

Finally, his mind started to return to him. Ben focused on the one thing he could do right now. He had to find Chase.

He had to sleep.

Ben hadn’t wanted to admit it but he’d known, right away, what needed to happen. He had to find a crack in the nightmares that would surely come, and he had to find Chase.

Once he decided, he let himself imagine saying goodbye. It was the best he could manage short of making it back home.

—

Ben scooped up the shards of the pendant and held them over his heart. He felt his pulse, frantic beneath his hand. He took in the waking world for maybe the last time, then shut his eyes.

Ben.

—

Waves crashed against the rocky shoreline, and the sky was filled with constellations Ben didn’t recognize. Black stars, a negative world, Ben so faded he almost blended in with the cliffs around him. An old woman’s laughter gliding over the wind.

He felt alert where awake he’d been disoriented. He felt steady, clear-headed. Maybe it was the dream wiping him clean, or maybe it was a survival instinct kicking in.

He felt stupid for not suspecting the lighthouse right away. Of course, Chase was there, of course. Ben glanced up at the towering building and started to climb up the cliffside. When he made it to the doorway it was already ajar for him. He found Chase sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed.

Ben faltered, then approached slowly. The floorboards were rotted— had they always been like this? They groaned underfoot, and the sound traveled up the walls. The whole building seemed to protest his being there.

Outside, a storm brewed over the ocean. He felt a cold stare on his back.

“Chase?”

No response. He was cold, unresponsive.

Then he wasn’t there anymore, but sinking into the floor. Ben saw a hand on his arm, gripping like a vice, and a pair of terrified eyes looking up at him through the dark. Then, nothing. 

“No!” Ben banged at the floor, and it shifted like dirt under his hands, he dug, trying to get underneath, but he found nothing. He kept digging, digging, digging, and still nothing. Someone called his name at the surface, so Ben kept digging.

He was in the underworld, which just looked like a big, dark room filled with corpses. The dirt sealed up above his head. Ben scratched at the ceiling but it only bloodied his fingertips. The room was impossibly small, now, and he was pleading with someone to let him out, let him out, please at least just let him have some water.

Ben stopped, and looked at his hand. No cast. He forced the dream to change.

—

He was in the middle of Manhattan.

“No,” he said aloud. Not this again.

There were hands around his throat. “Looks like someone has a death wish.”

Ben forced the dream to change. It didn’t change. “Stop,” he choked out. “Stop, stop, stop.”

He was hunched over, bleeding out, a sword in his hand, walking toward Danny, who was trying not to show on his face how terrified he was. “Stop,” Ben pleaded with himself. “Stop, please, please, please, stop stop stop stop stop stop stop.”

He closed his eyes, dug his heels into the ground. Take me to Chase.

—

The sword felt lighter in his hands, and the air around him changed. Chase was in front of him, chained to a wall and bleeding. Ben’s stomach flipped as his arm almost shot out to bury the blade into his neck. He grabbed his arm and forced it down.

“Ben,” Chase choked out, blood pouring from his mouth. “I'm sorry. I thought I could hide you. Can you just make it quick? I think it needs to get to ten. Just... sorry. Fuck.”

Ben, with effort, dropped the knife. He knew, somehow, that this was actually him. “Chase. Fuck. Where are you?” He tried to pull the chains off of him, to no avail. "I'm trying to find you, Chase."

Chase looked stricken. He licked his lips. "Um, I dunno. I don't know. I'm tied to a chair.” He seemed to be struggling to speak, and more blood surged past his lips. Ben’s chest constricted with concern. “Where are you, Ben? Are you alive?"

Ben frowned, then looked down at his hand. He was dreaming, which meant he had to be alive, unless the hag had already killed him and this was the final gasps of his dying mind. “I am,” he decided, looking back to Chase. “Focus on another dream. I’ll find you.”

"Wait, don't go.” Chase struggled in his chains, and Ben’s hands reached out tentatively, trying to still him so he wouldn’t hurt himself. He had no idea if Chase’s body, in the waking world, was also bleeding this badly. 

“Focus on the dream with me,” Chase pleaded. “I don't know if I can change it without you. Please. Think of the place we'd go. The pendant.”

“It’s—” But Chase was already shaking his head, crying.

“You know the bonfire? Let's go to the bonfire.”

Ben’s heart hurt, seeing Chase so distressed and he being so useless, even standing in front of him like this. He wished he could release him but something about this dream was stubborn, hard to change. Ben refused to accept this, the pangs of empathy shaping his determination. He nodded, putting his hands gently on Chase’s face. “I’m not leaving without you,” he promised. He closed his eyes and focused on the bonfire, on their friends sitting around them, on a warm summer night filled with peace. Take us to the bonfire.

They were sitting in camp, and Ben could hear the crickets singing, the fire in front of him crackling, and Chase release a shaky sigh of relief beside him. He relaxed but kept an eye on the darkness looming in the trees.

"I'm... that guy has me. Fox,” Chase said. “He was talking to me. He has.... a thing. It's like our pendant, but different. I think they're going to kill me. Ben." Chase's eyes flashed as he looked to him. "You have to get me my sword. You have to."

Ben frowned at the shadows stretching toward his foot. “You’re not at the lighthouse?” Then how come every time he fell asleep in this town, he ended up there? 

Ben.

He heard his mother's voice even while asleep. Something she warned him about, what felt like years ago. You must heed misdirection. He pressed his lips together. "You're not," he answered himself. He looked at Chase, brow creased. "I think I know where you are but I don't— I don’t know how to get there."

Ben.

Ben lifted his head, staring at the sky, at a pair of cold eyes, at an ancient smile. Despite her grin, Ben could see that the hag was furious. Her fingers dug into his arms, and he was dragged into darkness.

—

He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. A rain of fists landed on his body, and all he could taste was blood. His ears rang, rang, rang.

—

When he opened his eyes, Vernon Fox was standing over him, holding a gun to his head.

“Get up.”

His body protested the movement, but Ben did what he was told. Fox shoved him out of the RV and he stumbled, swallowing his pain. It was dark; he’d slept the entire day. They were on a quiet road at the outskirts of town, in an open field. Nowhere to hide. Not like Ben could make a run for it, anyway. The frigid ground against his bare feet made him shiver.

Fox pushed him to a car and opened the passenger door. “In.” Ben checked to make sure there was still a gun pointed at him. There was, of course, so he got in.

They drove. Ben watched the RV get smaller and smaller behind him.

“You could leave right now.” Veron was driving with one hand, the other crossed over his stomach, holding the gun steady.

Ben didn’t say anything.

“I won’t tell anyone to come after you if you leave all this alone. Your friend is as good as dead. She’s too strong, and he made his decision. Just go. No more nightmares, I swear.”

“Fuck you.”

Vernon hummed jovially. “Alright.”

He brought Ben to the lighthouse. Once the car stopped, the gun switched hands and was pressed into his temple. “Out.”

Ben didn’t move. He stared up at the striped tower, extending into the night sky. “This is not your style,” he said. “You manipulate people, you convince them to trust you.”

“Come on, Ben, out of the car.”

“Don’t want to get my brains all over the nice leather?” Ben glanced sideways at the man, swallowing down his fear. “Will it be easier to pretend you didn’t do it, if you can just drop my body in the ocean? Because it doesn’t work that way. You’ll remember it, no matter what.”

Vernon got out of the car. He opened Ben’s door and forcibly dragged him out. Ben cursed through the agony in his ribcage, but he fought back. He ripped himself free and tackled Veron to the ground. They both crashed into the rocky surface and it made Ben’s vision swim.

You have another option, Ben.

He fumbled for the gun. He didn’t find it, but his hand wrapped around a knife. Vernon’s elbow cracked into Ben’s jaw, knocking him aside. Somehow, he kept his grip firm as he scrambled to his feet. He was so angry, it overtook him. He hated this man more than he’d ever hated anyone else. Vernon grabbed at him and Ben dodged easily, then moved closer and dug the blade into the man’s side.

His side was bleeding, too. He pressed his hand to the wound, taking a few labored breaths. It was like muscle memory.

Vernon fell over himself and landed on the ground. Ben stalked forward, and the man started laughing, as if welcoming what was coming.

Ben realized what he was doing. He dug his heels into the dirt. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said.

Vernon rolled his eyes. “One was enough?”

Ben frowned. “What?” He looked down at the knife. It was in his left hand, which was bare. He was asleep.

—

The dream changed. Lifeless hands gripped Ben’s arms, his legs, his torso, his head, and pulled down, down, down. Every time he pried himself free, something else emerged to grab him again. He stopped fighting it, eventually, too exhausted to continue.

—

He shot up on Danny’s couch, Caine by his side, trying to calm him down. “I killed him,” Ben sobbed.

—

He was being wheeled into the hospital and there was a sheet over the dead body in the bed next to his. He was hauled under blankets and fell asleep, and an old woman was laughing right above him. Gently, she cracked open his ribs.

Ben.

—

He needed to wake up. He didn’t know how to get to Chase, but he needed to wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

“You’re too late too late too late.” He was in the RV, frozen on the bed, and the hag was sitting right over him. Her hand pressed down on his heart and he felt it slow. He felt everything go still, the room started to collapse into nothingness. Ben thought it was ironic, that it was only now that he realized he wanted so, so desperately to live.

Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up.

“Please,” he mouthed to no one, tears collecting at his eyes.

—

Ben woke up. He gasped, clawing at the leftover pressure on his chest. The shards of the pendant spilled out from his palm. He was alone, alive.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “Fuck. Fuck! Fuck, fuck.” His heart was furiously pounding, as if making up for the fact that it had nearly stopped.

—

Once he calmed down, Ben rolled out of the bed and collapsed into a heap on the floor. The dream had wreaked further havoc on his body, it seemed. Groaning, Ben pulled himself to sitting and found the ambrosia on the bedside table. He slid another square between his teeth.

He failed. He knew where he’d find Chase but had no idea where Vernon Fox’s house was. Ben banged his head against the nightstand, not caring that it further drove the spike of pain into his skull. “Dammit,” he said through his teeth.

It was dark outside, which made Ben worry. He checked the time.

“Shit.” It had been almost a full day since Chase had been taken.

—

It took two minutes to make it to his feet. Ben limped into the back of the RV and rifled through Chase’s coat. He found the man’s business card shoved in the side pocket. There was no address, but it was something.

He’d just have to go find Chase himself. He was no use to anyone if he was dead, so sleep, for now, was no longer an option. Ben began the arduous process of getting dressed.

Before he left, he found Chase’s sword. Ben held it close, a promise that he’d find him, he’d get them out of this.

—

Ben’s eyes were watering just ten minutes into his pathetic trek into the heart of town. Everything hurt so bad, so so bad, he could barely see in front of him as he walked. The world pitched forward and back wildly.

He couldn’t stop. He had to find Chase. Ben made it his mantra for every painful step: he had to find Chase, he had to, he had to, he had to.

Ben.

A car was driving toward him. Ben ducked his head and slowed his pace, trying to hide his gait until they passed him by. But instead of rolling past him, the vehicle slowed down. It stopped a few feet in front of him. Ben stopped, too, readying himself for a fight.

The driver's door opened. It was still dark out, so Ben couldn’t see who stepped out into the street.

“You look like shit. Ben, right?”

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned.

“You’re about to fall over, I’m hardly threatened.” A phone’s flashlight lit up, and shone on the stranger’s face. It was the girl from the cafe.

Ben stared at her, not comprehending. “Minnie...?”

She sighed. “Get in the car, I’ll take you to your friend.”

[wilsonsnest]

[w&s] after closing

just came back from a trip with a six hour drive. i had never heard of stuckeys in my life being a northern gal. and then we passed a place called wilson’s general store and an au was born. 

so have some small town sambucky au compliments of riding through virgnia

pairing: sambucky (samsteve mentioned) word count: 2,331

Sam let out a soft sigh as he locked the doors to his store, smiling a little as Sarge slunk cautiously towards the door. The orange tabby always sat at the door and waited until Sam was in his car before disappearing back into the darkness of the store.

Sam saluted the night watch before turning around and heading out to the parking lot. Tomorrow he wouldn’t open until 10, which was nice. It meant he could sleep in a little bit before it was time to come in and open up with his scarily efficient morning staffer, Nebula.

He had taken over the general store nearly three years ago, from an older, battle-axe of a woman who had decided she was good and done. Sam had moved to Hopeway about six years ago now. After serving in the Air Force, losing a friend and almost himself in the process, he got out and started to try and piece his life back together. It led him here, the small lakeside town was just what he needed.

Convincing Ms. Adler that he could run the shop had been a bit of a struggle, and there had been many a time when he wished he hadn’t done it. But after a while he got himself together, a lot of it with help from the locals who Sam had truly began to see as family.

Speaking of locals.

Sam raised an eyebrow as he approached his car, seeing a tall figure leaning against the passenger side. If he wasn’t used to this happening, he would have freaked out, instead he just let out a whistle so as to not start the man.

Bucky’s head lifted, though his eyes were still shadowed by the green Stucky's ball cap he was wearing. Judging by his jeans, white shirt and green jacket, he was already off work. Odd, since the neighboring diner didn’t close until 2am.

“Well this is unexpected.” Sam raised an eyebrow as he unlocked the car. “Steve get tired of you messing up orders?”

“Nah, cashing in.” Bucky lifted his chin, his blue eyes bright, reflecting the street lamp light above them. He held up a paper bag. “I brought dinner.”

“Oh well, I guess I have to bring you home then.” Sam smiled, ignoring the bag to lean in and kiss the other man’s cheek. “C’mon, get in, it’s too cold to be standing around like this.”

“You’re the boss.” Bucky’s voice was warm as he opened the door and climbed inside.

Sam couldn’t help but feel warmth bubbling in his chest as he got in and started the engine. Being a shop owner meant long hours, and not a huge ton of extra time for socializing. He had become fast friend’s with Steve Rogers, the de-facto owner of Stucky's when he had moved here seven years ago. It had taken a little longer for him to mesh with Stucky's (reluctant) co-owner and cook, Bucky Barnes. Funnily enough, it had been Barnes that had given him the idea to just go ahead and name it Wilson’s General Store.

“It’s your’s isn’t it?” Bucky grumbled setting down a huge roast beef sandwich and a side of mixed vegetables with Sam knew were definitely not on the regular menu. “No time to get shy about it now, Wilson. I bet Stevie would love to design you a sign or something.”

Sam remembered that conversation for two reasons. One, he had actually decided to go ahead and rename the shop. And two, it was the exact moment he realized he had a crush on a surly army vet who was an excellent cook and hated being co-owner of the diner ostensibly half-named after him.

At least having a crush on Bucky was in good company with his massive crush on Steve.

Surprisingly enough, Bucky ended up asking him out. Sam had been content to let both of his crushes sit and put all his energy into running the store.

But apparently Bucky Barnes had other plans. They had been out late at Red/Hawk’s with Steve and a few others. Bucky was usually pretty quiet, but that night he had been particularly anxious. He’d been fiddling with his prosthetic hand the entire night, prompting Sam to ask if he were okay. He knew Bucky still had bad days where wearing the prosthetic was more burdensome than helpful.

“No, I mean - I’m Fine. I just..” Bucky stuttered his eyes flickering down to the bar-top. He fumbled around in his jacket pocket and pulled out a half-crushed box of cigarettes. “Y’wanna get some air?”

Sam didn’t smoke himself, but he nodded and followed Bucky out to the front of the bar. They wandered a little ways down to a grassy area nearby. Bucky clumsily took out a cigarette, nearly dropping the box. Sam knew something had to be up.

It had taken at least another fifteen minutes of awkward small talk before Bucky finally looked over, past Sam’s shoulder and asked him if he would like to go out sometime. “Like a Date date.” He had said.

They had gone on said Date date to some cute little restaurant the next town over. Bucky had been clearly uncomfortable being out of Hopeway and Sam had been worried about Bucky the entire time. The whole affair had been awfully tense until Sam invited Bucky back to his place. They curled up on the couch with ice cream from Sam’s freezer and watched the Twilight Zone until they fell asleep. It had been totally worth the fifty texts Steve had sent to them both when Bucky ended up late for opening the next morning.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the memory, glancing at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Bucky’s eyes were closed, head back against the headrest as Sam drove. He probably wasn’t asleep, but he didn’t have his prosthetic today and his willingness to take off early probably meant he was exhausted in more than just a physical sense.

Sam pulled up the dirt path of his driveway and placed a hand on Bucky’s knee. The other man blinked open his eyes, squinting over at Sam as they parked. Once the car was stopped, he leaned he over and drew Sam into a gentle kiss before pulling away with a sigh.

“Sorry.” He mumbled quietly.

“It’s been a long day.” Sam smiled warmly. “Just give me time to shower and I’m all yours.”

They got out of the car, Bucky carrying the food as Sam took out his keys. As soon as they entered, Sam’s fluffy, red-furred Somali Cat practically charged them, meowing enthusiastically all the while.

“Hey, Redwing.” Sam smiled brightly as he scooped the cat into his arms. He wiggled a bit, butting his head against Sam’s face, a purr beginning to rumble in his chest. “Yeah, I missed you too.”

“M’gonna go warm this up.” Bucky was already heading toward the kitchen as Sam lavished Redwing with more kisses and pets. “Go take a shower!” Bucky called, slightly muffled.

“Can you feed, Redwing?” Sam asked as he headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll shower quick.”

“Sure.” Bucky agreed as he began to go to work in Sam’s kitchen.

With that, Sam let Redwing down, watching amused as the red-haired cat immediately went to go and inspect Bucky. He hurried to the bathroom so that he could freshen up. The shower was an absolute godsend, and while he would have loved to luxuriate for a bit longer, he was aware of how much he was missing his boyfriend. He hadn’t yet convinced Bucky that couples showers were totally a thing they would enjoy.

After hastily drying off and changing into a t-shirt and sleep pants he found his way back into the kitchen. Bucky had dished out Sam’s meal of meatloaf and potatoes onto a plate and set it on his tiny two-person kitchen table.

Sam hummed, his stomach growling at the sight of the undoubtedly delicious food. But first, he went to his boyfriend, who was standing over a kettle making tea. He had taken his green jacket and baseball cap off and Sam could see his face clearly. His eyes had dark circles under them, and the messy ponytail meant he had been hasty when getting ready that morning.

Sam placed a hand on the small of Bucky’s back, leaning his cheek against his boyfriend’s right arm. The taller man looked over at him, a little surprised at first before his expression softened. He leaned over to give Sam a light peck.

“Go eat.” He reminded Sam, shrugging a little to get him to move.

Sam pouted for show before heading over to the table. Almost immediately he fell upon the meal with the ferocity of a starving man. Bucky’s food was delicious, even more so after a long day’s work. He had no idea how this man ended up being so darned good at cooking, but he praised the lord every day that he had gotten so lucky. He wasn’t sure he was going to survive when he introduced Bucky to his Mama. The two of them could probably put a meal together that would make even the most discerning food critics weep.

He barely looked up when Bucky set a mug of tea down for him. He only looked up when Bucky returned to the table with his own mug and sat down across from him. By then he was more than halfway through his dinner.

“You’ll make yourself sick, Sammy.” Bucky chided, though he was clearly pleased seeing Sam eat. “You been eating breakfast and lunch?”

Sam rolled his eyes, having to swallow his stuffed mouth before replying. “Yes, mom.” Bucky had nearly had a heart-attack the first morning he had woken up at Sam’s and found out that he never ate breakfast.  “I boiled eggs the night before. Protein. Are you proud of me?”

Bucky didn’t seem impressed, but nodded anyway. They sat in companionable silence while Sam finished eating, Bucky watching him fondly as Redwing wound between their legs under the table. Sam was amazed just how domestic they were, but he supposed dating for nearly two years would do that to you.

Finally, Sam pushed his plate away with a sigh, feeling full and satisfied. If he were somewhere comfortable, he was sue he would be asleep in a matter of minutes.

“Steve coming over tonight?” Sam asked with a yawn. He wanted to make sure they weren’t expecting anyone before they bundled up int he bedroom for the night.

“Nah.” Bucky said quietly, something flickering in his eyes before he looked down.

“Bad day?” Sam asked, leaning over to take Bucky’s hand. It was rare these days for one of them to come over without the other. After the initial awkwardness of both Steve and Bucky dating Sam at the same time, they fell into a rather comfortable rhythm. But there were days when they needed their own couple time.

“Just tired.” Bucky answered, squeezing Sam’s hand back. “Storm a few nights ago didn’t help.”

Sam nodded sympathetically. The change in air pressure had been hell on Sam’s back, and he’d had to sleep on his front from two days. Bucky tended to have the same issue with his shoulder.

“Let’s head to bed then.” Sam said quietly.

Together, they cleaned up the kitchen before turning out the lights. It was still a little early by their standards, but cuddling in the bed was more inviting than forcing themselves to stay up and watch television.

In the bedroom, Bucky immediately went to his drawer to change into a comfortable t-shirt and shorts. Sam crawled into bed, rearranging his pillows for Bucky’s side and then plugging in his phone to charge. Sam glanced over as Bucky climbed into bed on the other side, smiling already at how relaxed his boyfriend already looked. They both slept better with one another. Bucky slept over as much as he could, though when Steve was over, fitting the three of them in Sam’s bed was quite a challenge.

Discussing moving in was a difficult subject when he had only been dating Steve for a year. Not to mention, the two friends still lived and worked together. It was going to take a lot of talks and planning to even approach the subject of cohabitation.

“C’mere.” Bucky waved his hand toward Sam, indicating his chest. “Wanna hold you, Sammy.”

Sam ducked his head, his facing heating up before turning off the bedside lamp. He shuffled his way closer to Bucky, placing his head on the other man’s chest. Sam wasn’t a small man, but Bucky was broad and thick and made Sam feel exceptionally secure. He’d seen out-of-towners try to start shit and nothing had prepared them for two hundred plus pounds of muscled one-armed cook to come storming out of the kitchen.

“Sleep over on Saturday?” Sam asked quietly, one hand under Bucky’s shirt, stroking the soft skin of his stomach. “You can stay and keep Redwing company.”

He heard Bucky let out a long breath above him before answering. “That’d be nice.” A pause before asking. “Y’want Steve to come?”

“If he wants to.” Sam answered. Personally, he loved having both his boyfriends around, but tried to work within their boundaries as well. “We could go to the lake once I close up.”

Stucky’s was closed on Sunday and Wilson’s only stayed open until 2:30pm. Sunday was the town’s quietest day, even Red/Hawk’s was closed. Sunday was a time for family, and rest - something everyone here believed in fiercely. Sam could think of nothing better than spending it with his two favorite people.

“I like that.” Bucky mumbled before pressing his lips to Sam’s forehead. Sam smiled against Bucky’s chest, letting the gentle rise and fall lull him to sleep.

will be x-posted to ao3

[harunoheart]

Oneirophrenia C7

Oneirophrenia C7

———————

Sasuke Uchiha

———————

The next morning we woke up at sunrise. The fire pit was still smoldering from the night before, a few coals glowing in the pile of ashes.

I threw some dirt on the coals to suffocate the flame and did a final check on our rations for the day. Our goal was to travel for a few hours at most, just a quick here and back trip to test Sakura’s distance theory...but we packed enough for two days, just in case.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked, looking up as she laced her boots. Her backpack sat next to her, full of medical supplies she preemptively summoned last night.

I gave her a quick affirmation and pulled out a few barrier tags from my cloak. Placing three in a triangulated position around our campsite, I activated the seal with my chakra and watched the campsite shimmer into the background of the forest. That should protect us from unexpected visitors, at least the human ones.

Squirrels always seemed to find their way through these things.

Sakura walked up beside me and slung her bag over her shoulder with a determined smile on her face. “You’re up first, Sasuke-kun.”

Concentrating my chakra into my eyes I felt the Rinne-sharingan whirring to life. My vision shifted into hyper awareness and as a breeze passed through the forest I was suddenly aware of every leaf falling off the trees as the first signs of autumn made itself clear.

Out of my peripheral, I could see Sakura tightening the Velcro on her gloves, anticipating anything. Her forearms flexed and I could see her pulse racing in her wrist. I turned my head so she wasn’t in my line of sight while I opened the portal.

Focusing all my chakra I picked a fixed point in space. Visualizing a pinprick sized hole tearing wider and wider still. The trees began to distort and the portal came into view, black and ominous and wildly unstable.

I could only keep it open for a moment or two. Widening the portal until we could safely jump through we were finally ready to begin our mission.

“Let’s go.”

————

Stepping through the portal felt like jumping into a magnetic field. You can feel the shifting of the atmospheric pressure as we entered the mountain range.

The sky glowed with an ominous green, but the sun rose in the east, just like home. You could see the hazy outline of the moon where Kaguya and Zetsu are imprisoned, fading into the sky as the sunlight filtered through the atmosphere.

Sakura looked around, scanning our surroundings for threats. “So far so quiet,” she said, kneeling down to the earth. Grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground she examined the soil. “It’s damp, and cool, it probably rained a few days ago. There’s potential for sustaining plant life but...” she looked around again straining her eyes into the distance, “not a tree in sight.”

“Grab a sample, everything helps.” I allowed my eyes to rest from the strain, a headache beginning to form. Sakura took a vial from her bag, packing the dirt inside and capping it with a cork before labeling it with the Kanji for mountain again.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me as the flow of chakra to my eyes suddenly halted. I pinched the bridge of my nose and waited for the headache to pass. On my left I heard the sound of water sloshing in a bottle.

“Here, take a break. It’s my turn,” she smiled, handing me the drink. I gratefully took it while she rummaged through her bag for supplies.

Sakura pulled out a Kunai and a stack of what appeared to be exploding tags. I watched as she wrapped the handle of the knife with the parchment and pricked her finger on the blade, placing a drop of blood on the handle before embedding it in the dirt on the top of the peak we stood on.

“How good is your eyesight?” She asked, putting the extra tags back in the bag.

“Do you have to ask?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes, “If we run into trouble, this beaconing tag is coded to my chakra. Wherever we end up, I can activate it to send up a flare so we can find this location again.” Sakura ran her other hand over the pinprick to heal. Her hand glowed green as she continued, “if we need to, can you use Amenotejikara to switch places with the kunai, or do you need something bigger?”

As to be expected, Sakura continues to surprise and impress me. Her analytical skill is almost at the level of Shikamaru.

“Theoretically, a kunai should work, but I’ve never brought anyone else with me with my Amenotejikara.”

“Then we will have to test your range with it while we explore.” She said smiling. Getting up off the ground and dusting off her knees she maintained the sparkling sense of optimism she had as a kid. I’ll never admit it out loud but it made the work feel less heavy. I appreciated it.

“Your theory about relative dimensional space seems to be holding up so far. The sun seems to be rising in the same direction as back in our world. We should travel A few miles south. If you’re right, we should be able to open up another portal closer to the main road we traveled on.”

Sakura nodded in affirmation and we began to walk, the kunai glinting in the sunrise behind us.

——

“Sasuke?”

“Hn...”

“You see it too...right?”

“....yeah.”

The valley in front of them shimmered like a prism, reflecting light in a soft wave that seemed to breathe with the landscape. It looked like a barrier of some kind, stretching out across the mountains for miles beyond where we could see.

Sakura picked up a rock from the floor and tossed it at the apparition from where we stood, a good 30 feet away. It appeared to fall right through, not disturbing or awakening anything, so we cautiously got closer.

Looking up towards the sky the shimmer stretched into the cloudless blue, its iridescent reflection glittering in the sun.

“Sasuke, look...” Sakura pointed straight ahead. Our outlines began to reflect themselves in the prism, like a cloudy haze. The figures mirrored ours as Sakura lifted her right arm, the reflection moved it’s left. “Do you think it’s some sort of genjutsu?”

“It’s definitely a trap. Until we know what it does, we should be cautious,” I said. Sakura nodded in agreement, grabbing a kunai from her pouch and preparing for a fight. Out of my periphery I see her try to take a step forward, and instinctively blocked her movement with my arm.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Naruto isn’t here, so one of us has to,” her hand reached up to grab mine, “And you’re out of chakra,” she said, shoving past me without hesitation and approached the shimmer in front of her. Her hazy reflection did the same, gaining clarity with each step. Soon she was face to face with a mirror image with an iridescent sheen.

Sakura moved her head side to side and watched as the copy did the same. She side stepped, and the copy moved in sync with her, but with a slight lag. I readied my grip on my sword and stepped closer, poising to interfere.

Slowly, Sakura reaches out towards her shimmery self and smiles. The reflection smiles back. My heart suddenly raced with anxiety as they got closer...I had a bad feeling about this...

Their fingertips touched and it was like the world collapsed.

“Look out!!” I yelled, drawing my sword. But it was too late...

The shimmer collapsed and I heard Sakura scream. Running towards her as she collapsed on the ground I don’t see any sign of the shimmery Sakura or of the barrier that divided the valley. I scooped Sakura off the ground and propped her up against a nearby boulder.

Her face shimmered with an iridescent sheen before fading back into her skin.

“Sakura...Sakura wake up,” I shook her shoulder and pressed my hand against her cheek. She was still breathing, but was fully unconscious. Great. Im out of chakra and my teammate is passed out.

I couldn’t even tell if she was under a genjutsu or not. I drew my sword and decided to scan the surroundings again. The shimmer was gone, and the horizon looked the same as it did in every other direction. Full of fucking mountains. I grit my teeth and tried to strategize the next move when I heard a deep, guttural laugh from behind me.

A chill went down my spine as I turned around.

Another deep, sinister laugh erupted from Sakura’s chest. She straightened up and her eyes glosses over with a dark haze.

The smile on her face was not hers anymore, it was sadistic and dangerous.

Ice ran through my veins as I saw her body become possessed. My heart dropped in my chest and I took a step backwards, gripping the handle of my sword.

“Aaah...Finally!,” she laughed, her hands rising up in front of her face. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Some fresh fucking air.” She pulled the hitai-ate off her hair and shook it out, tousling it so it was more loose and messy than usual.

“Who are you?” I asked, ready to strike at any moment. Sakura looked at me confused.

“Who am I?” She asked, raising a finger to her chin to ponder she finally “What do you mean, Sasuke-Kun? It’s just me....” She drawled out and feigned an innocent look before a smirk found its way into her face. She bit her lip playfully and I tried not to think about why I felt a blood rush.

Shit. This was bad.

I pulled the sword from its sheath and pointed the blade at her neck. I didn’t want to hurt her though, so this was going to be difficult. I needed my sharingan so I could get inside her mind and figure out why she was acting like this.

“Leave her. Now.” She laughed again, stepping towards me.

“Oh please,” she said, her voice low and dripping with sarcasm, “I’ve been here the whole time, Sasuke-kun. Hiding in plain sight,” she touched her fingertip to the blade and sliced it. Without breaking eye contact with me she put the wounded finger into her mouth and moaned. “That shimmery thing probably just scrambled my consciousness around,” she pondered, healing her finger, “I have an awful headache...” she pouted.  

I still didn’t have enough chakra to activate my sharingan, I needed to stall her. I pressed the blade against her throat instead. “What are you?” She smiled sweetly, her face looking so much like the girl I knew but those ghostly eyes left me feeling uneasy. I had to think fast, how do I free her from this without...

With a flick of her finger, the blade shattered. Disintegrated down to the hilt until I was left with nothing but the leather grip in my hand. In my surprise she caught me off guard and stepped in closer.

“Mmm...” she sighed, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Are you worried?” She sighed, melancholic and a little pouty. Her fingertips traced my collarbone through my shirt, I looked down to see her usual bright green eyes were now dark, like a forest. Her chakra felt the same, but it had a different flow to it now. Usually it ebbed as naturally as breathing, but now...now it was almost playful. It reminded me of the Ninneko, when their tails would sway back and forth before pouncing.

“Think of me like a Genjutsu. Sakura’s hidden will. She created me on accident, a long time ago. When she was just a little girl struggling to find herself. I’ve been here since before we even met you.”

Her hand reached up to grab my jawline and she held it firmly in her grasp as she leaned in, stopping just before kissing me.

“Do you want to know where she is?” She whispered.

I didn’t answer.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. We share the same heart after all. My attraction to you however, is a little more...primal than hers...that is if you feel the need to differentiate. Technically I’m just unrestrained.” She dragged her fingertip under my chin and stepped away with a flick of her wrist. “I’ll give you some of my chakra if you want, so you can find her in my memories.” She held out her hand, smirking. “Unless you wanna have a different kind of fun,” she winked.

Ignoring the uncomfortable forwardness of THAT...her offer felt like a trap. “What’s the catch.”

“No catch, Sasuke-kun. But I’m warning you, it’s not very pretty in here,” she pointed to her head. “And now that I’m the one awake, all of her demons have come out to play. All the hatred, sadness, and suffering we endured is being let out of all the little boxes she put us in to ‘compartmentalize’. You just need to find which one has dragged her under. Sakura manifested me out of her fear of being anything less than delicate,” She sneered at the word like it was poison. “There is an entire realm in her mind that belongs to me and the illusion she created to restrain herself in reality. This is where you need to start your search for her consciousness. I’m warning you though...it doesn’t take kindly to visitors, just ask Ino.”

“What does the Yamanaka have to do with this?”

“See for yourself,” She said, holding out her hand .

I weighed the options...and hesitantly reached out.

The rush of chakra filled my body like a glass of water and my sharingan spun to life.

———————

Sakura Haruno

———————

Am I ...dead?

I felt myself blink but the world around me was nothing but darkness.

What happened?

I lifted my hands and was pleasantly surprised I could see them. I looked down at my feet, bare and standing in...water?

Cautiously, I took a step forward. The sound of water splashing with my footsteps echoed in the darkness.

Where am I?

I looked around, but saw nothing but black. I took a few more steps forward but heard a sound coming from behind me. I turned around to find a younger version of myself, crouched down near the ground and crying softly.

Coming face to face with my younger self was...jarring. I was so small...

My hair was choppy and growing in uneven, it covered my tiny round face in a halfhearted attempt to hide. I kind of wanted to laugh, the little pout on my baby face was so cute and sad at the same time. I remember feeling like an outcast, being teased.

I know now that what I went through wasn’t anything compared to what Naruto had to deal with growing up but as a child that was my reality. My world was so small, and I stayed safe for a long time.

I walked towards her and crouched in front.

She looked up at me and wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. Putting on a brave face before looking up at me.

“I’m lost...” she said softly, wiping the tears from her face.

“Me too,” I smiled, holding out my hand, “Do you want to look with me?”

I wasn’t even sure what we were looking for, but it beat sitting in the darkness.

The little me nodded and took my hand, and without anything else to do - we started walking.

————

Sorry for the VERY late update everyone. I just had to pick up and move my entire life across the country so I’ve had a lot on my mind. But the new Sasuke Retsuden spoilers are giving me LIFE and I’m ready to jump into writing this story again.

I have a lot planned, and a lot of puzzle pieces to assemble so bare with me.

Hope you enjoy!

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Deception - Chapter 3

Fandom: Divergent. Pairing: Eric/OC Rating: M

With a Father in power and a past based on rumors, a story of deception entails.

Find the second chapter here.

A/N: Thank you as always. And this will eventually be updated to FF.net when they sort their shit out.

@murmelinchen  @beltz2016  @tak3th3sh0t  @singingpeople@frecklefaceb  @equalstrashflavoredtrash  @pathybo  @tobiasbebrave @xxrubyredrosexx @maan2442 @ariwolff14 @kenzieam @lauraaan182

For the third time, Kate hits the ground. Harvey’s knee is somewhere between her shoulderblades and her left arm forced behind her back. “Alright, alright, alright!” she grunts and Harvey gets up.

“Good,” Eric praises him as Kate pushes herself up from the ground, dusting out the dirt from the street. There was no mats or the safety of the gym room, it was a wide track not far from Dauntless and Eric had decided this was the perfect place to learn better ways to restrain potential opponents.

And it was safe to say Kate was failing miserably. She’s angry when she stands up, more with herself than anything, and swipes at her water bottle that’s to one side of the group. With a hand on her hip, she curses herself, an overwhelming tiredness mixed with the unpleasant feeling of self-loathing.

“Whatever is affecting your lessons today, you need to sort it out.” Kate had heard Eric coming up from behind her from the sound of his boots on the turf but doesn’t bother facing him. “I never put you down for someone so easily defeated. Maybe I was wrong. And your grapple is quite possibly the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, I get it!” Kate suddenly snaps. “I suck, I know. ...There’s just a lot on my mind.”

“Stupid. When at work, your mind is here, not elsewhere. Now go and take Harvey down.” She glances at Eric in disbelief, him only frowning at an electronic pad in his hands with a finger swiping across the display. His nonchalance was more annoying than his words. “Harvey, again, with Kate,” he orders, this time briefly lifting his head as Harvey prepares himself in front of her. Eric pops a brow with impatience. “Go…”

Kate’s face is red with embarrassment, and as Harvey apologizes, pivoting forward to restrain her, she knocks his arm out, their bodies off balance. It’s somewhat flukey that she manages to get behind him as he falls, almost scruffily as they scrabble on the dirt street. But regardless, she lifts his arm, pushing him down to complete the assigned move.

She gives Harvey a shove and walks off to cool her mind. Eric grins to himself over the rim of the pad.

After an agonizing afternoon where Kate had managed to freeze the device she was listing her debrief to, she was more than grateful the day was over with. The group filters out of the locker room, Kate just shutting and locking hers when Eric appears in the doorway. He’s got a piece of paper in his hand, glancing at her as she all but sighs. “Kate, can you wait here for a minute.”

She readjusts the strap of her bag across her shoulder and patiently waits until they are alone. “I’m not going to commend you, today was bad,” Eric continues. “You want to tell me why I shouldn’t hand this report over to Mick?”

“Please, don’t…” The words come out rushed and only the slightest flicker in his eyes prove he is a little interested. She moves back to the wooden bench and slumps down. “I don’t need him interfering more than he already does.” She swipes at a piece of her hair in front of her face, her shoulders sagging. “I’m just tired.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes at her.

“No, I know.” She thinks long and hard for a moment. Blinking up to him strolling into the room, she continues as he comes to a stop in front of her, “I spoke with my dad last night. It didn’t really sway in my favor.”

“About?”

Her eyes snap to his as she recalls their conversation and somewhat skeptical of his interest. “Well, first of all, why you didn’t turn up...” Eric nods his head a little, stepping closer as her voice had dropped purposefully so no one could overhear with the locker room door still slightly ajar. “Then the living arrangements. It didn’t go down well.”

“I could have told you that.”

Kate places her palms flat on her thighs, gripping them. “It sounds stupid said out loud. Stupid, childish problems and reasons...”

“They can’t be brought to work with you. If suspicion arises on a trainee's mental compatibility, they have to be dealt with quickly before general productivity is endangered.”

“It’s not that, Eric,” she almost groans at his animosity. But she should’ve expected not an ounce of empathy from him. “Can’t people just have an off-day?” His face falls into thought and she gathers she particularly doesn’t want him to reply to that. “Nevermind. Can I go now?”

“Yes.” But he doesn’t move as she approaches, standing straighter. “Kate, it’s protocol that I have to ask. That wasn’t me just being a jackass.”

Just before leaving the room, she turns to him. She wanted to say that he was a brave man, and how she admired him for it; that she was glad he didn’t submit to Lorraine, and that she was impressed he’s not afraid to voice his opinions so freely to Mick. But, avoiding his gaze, all that comes out is: “Are you coming to dinner later?”

“Do you want me to?”

She smiles for the first time that day, and he watches her leave.

Kate can tell Eric is in their apartment from the amount of mumbling voices from outside of her room; more specifically Lorraine, and she could almost imagine the terrible onslaught happening right now

Since having a shower, she had gone back to her room and dozed on top of her bed, drifting in and out while waiting for dinner. The twins weren’t here and apparently, Lorraine was going to leave at some point to meet them and have a drink with one of her friends that lived in another living complex. Kate thought she’d only decided to have the night out to show her dissatisfaction with Eric, and probably for the fact he gotten away with it.

But that was what Kate was waiting for. Once Lorraine was gone, only then would she bother leaving her room.

After a few more minutes, her step-mother's voice is no longer audible and Kate has no idea how long she had been lying on her bed in her loose sweats, almost starfished. Rolling up with a groan, she stumbles with a rushing head to the door, pushing back her stray hair into the bun quickly.

She slides her hands inside her overly large sweatshirt cuffs and walks down the hall, approaching the table. As much as she wanted to moan about Mick and his attitude towards her personal life, he was definitely meant to be a father and husband. He’s placing two serving dishes on the table with his back to her. He doesn’t notice her until she pulls out her usual seat, reminding herself not to pay any huge amount of attention to Eric as she does so

“Ah…” Mick smirks at her. “She smells the food and she rises.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“Whatever, darl’. Get some food in you. Help yourself, Eric.” It’s some sauce covered chicken and rice meal that does indeed look delicious. Once served and happily shoveling the first few mouthfuls, Mick hums in satisfaction. “If anything, that woman can cook.”

Kate wonders if Lorraine poisoned it, and peering up to Eric who seems to be simpering to himself, she wonders if he thinks the same.

“Beats the food in the canteen,” Eric speaks up.

“Why? Is that where you ate last night?” Mick asks, pausing to take a sip of his usual whiskey poured into his favorite set of glasses. She notices Eric has one too, but none for her.

“Sure as hell wasn’t going to be eating here,” Eric scoffs.

“Yeah, Lorraine ate my ass last night because of you.” Mick laughs loudly and suddenly, making Kate jump. “Not in the good way, either!”

“That’s disturbing,” she mumbles.

“Speaking of eating ass. Eric-”

“Well, this doesn’t sound good,” Eric breathes and Kate snorts.

“You got any news for me? Any news on Harry’s girl, Jennifer?”

“Jolene, dad.” She smiles at his mistake, catching Eric eyeing her.

Politely, Eric puts down his cutlery, scooping up his glass and spins the alcohol inside. “Like I said, I’m not interested in that at the moment.”

“You’re not gay, are you?” her father asks bluntly with a straight face, causing her to almost choke on a forkful of rice.

Eric drops his eyes to the table. “You sound exactly like Kate.”

“Not that that is a problem or anything. I guess, I just want to know whether you got a crush on me that stops you seeing past to all the ladies.” Mick nudges her hard in her ribs.

“No, I know what I want. And that’s not it.”

“Mmmm…” Her father growls exaggeratedly. “Eyes set on the prize.”

“Something like that.” Eric sips his drink.

Kate can’t help but frown at him, wondering what was going through his mind and why he was being so utterly brazen. Suddenly a boot hits her foot under the table and Eric seems rather coy, “Eat up, you’re looking a little pale there, Kate.”

“You not feeling good?” her father asks and the attention is all on her as she tries to cover the blush creeping up her neck.

“I’m fine. I had a horrible day. No thanks to you…” She tips her head towards Eric.

“We had a breakthrough today, though. You just needed a little encouraging,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting.

She arches an eyebrow at him, “You mean, you coerced me into using my anger to take down Harvey.”

“Who’s Harvey?” Kate and Eric glance at Mick, having forgotten he was there for a moment.

“A guy who is on the same course as me,” Kate explains, rolling her eyes.

“A real fucking idiot,” Eric adds, stabbing at his chicken and chuckles to himself.

Mick is reserved, tilting back in his chair. “I see.” But the moment he says it, his phone begins buzzing. He dusts his hands off, swallowing his remaining mouthful and answers quickly. “Yeah?” There’s a pause, and Kate can just make out his PA’s voice on the other end. “Alright. Keep ‘em there, I’m on my way.”

Eric tries to stand but Mick waves him off, “I got this. See yourself out. Darl’,” Mick kisses the top of her head. “Hair smells delightful. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, dad.” After watching him leave in silence, Eric finishes his food, breathing in with obvious contentment. “You want anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She gets up to gather the dishes and cutlery, that being the only noise in the entire apartment. Feeling awkward, she glances at Eric over her shoulder and says, “You don’t have to stay. You can go whenever you want.”

“I know. Don’t you like my company?” Kate rolls her eyes to herself as she walks to the sink in the kitchen, preparing to wash up. With the taps running, she doesn’t see more senses him walking up to stand next to her. “Never took you for a domestic.”

“One thing I hate is the expectation that women should be in the kitchen.” She smiles, beginning to clean the dishes. “And I’ll be damned if any man ever expects that of me.”

“I didn’t say I expected anything of you. I’m just pointing out that it’s rather strange to be watching you clean a plate…” He steps back so she can place a clean dish on the rack. “...rather than reloading a gun.”

“Hmm, I think I could still kill you with a plate.” She notices his hand as he leans up against the counter next to her.

He chuckles to himself. “You could try.”

“I’d be more afraid of making a mess and Lorraine coming back to find it,” she huffs.

“Wow, so you’re actually contemplating my attempted death by dishes.”

She nudges him with her side while her hands are still occupied in the water and laughs. “I’m contemplating it every second you stand there and do nothing. The least you could do is dry up.”

He gives a quick nod in affirmation and finds the dish cloth, rolling up his sleeves fractionally. She scoffs, watching him. “Okay, I see what you mean, it’s weird.” He raises an eyebrow in question. “...Seeing someone being domestic...”

“One thing I hate is the expectation that I do anything other than make orders and drink my coffee black. I’ll be damned if-” Kate splashes him with water, laughing loudly as she pushes the cloth he’s holding towards his chest to dry him.

“I’m sorry,” she says but she can’t stop herself from giggling, even when he dips his hands into the soapy bubbles and stubs her nose with it way too fast for her to respond

“I’ll make you eat the-” Kate gives him a long and slow swipe across his chin as he groans in displeasure. She giggles, admiring the bubble beard.

“Ah, that’s better, now you look pretty.” She scoops more up and lifts her hand to swipe some more onto his face. “I think… a little extra here-”

But before she can touch him, his hand flies up and grabs her wrist, gently coaxing her arm down. Huffing to himself, he moves closer and his touch lingers against her exposed skin. His posture changes the air around them as he leans, a frown on his face. “Kate…” he murmurs, his thumb caressing up the most delicate part of her wrist. She allows it for a moment before pulling away.

“Eric…” she says as a slight warning, not fully understanding where the conversation was going or could go, and turns away from him. She doesn’t want to hear what he was about to say. Whatever was happening, or had been happening as their friendship grew over the last week, was wrong, and particularly dangerous after everything she had gone through with her father. But it doesn’t mean that she can’t feel the slight off-balance; her world shifting recently from his small acts and advances. She was old enough to recognize flirtation, and more importantly coming from a person who never would unintentionally.

“Look, just let me finish.” He waits until she slows, glancing at him. “Back in the locker room… the other day...” His eyes linger down to the counter in front of them, his stuttering is unusual, and in irony Kate’s smile is brittle. “I wanted to say that I have never thought about your sisters in that way and would never speak to Lorraine over something so ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous…” Eric grimaces to himself. “But I forgot the details because-”

“I’m really not…” she scoffs trying to appear blase but against her own will she scrubs the cutlery harder than necessary. “..I’m not interested in any of that. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I know, you’re right, I don’t. But I want to.”

“I think you are a brave man, Eric.” She watches his eyebrows knit together, his jaw ticking back and forth like he knew what was coming. Speaking the words freely from what she was thinking earlier, was a strange sense of relief. “You’re smart. You’re undeniably strict because you have to be. You’re admired... Don’t ruin it.”

“‘Ruin’ wouldn’t be the term I would use,” his voice raises defensively like she had just insulted his entire being. But then again, she had just subtly turned him down.

“Don’t waste it, then.”

“Waste? The only thing I’m wasting is time. Things have changed, Kate.”

“For you, maybe. Nothing has changed for me.” Her quip is more aimed at her situation; being bolted to stay at the family home, her career path still set, her personal life still as caged. “Please go.” She lets her eyes close, a tightness in her chest while time seems to stand still with the words lingering. “Please.”

The air rushing past on his exit is an awful sense when what she truly meant was the opposite. But she had to put herself first. And that meant that she didn’t want to defy her dad or potentially cause a difficulty for her job, or Eric’s.

Then why was a heavy feeling of regret still smothering her?

The peaceful, serene atmosphere in the early morning before Eric had to go to the Public Sector, is interrupted from about fifteen feet down the hall. He can hear Mick’s overly loud and pretentious voice boom, distorting the small and brief notes he was jotting; a long line just scrawled through half a sentence. He breathes in deeply, calming himself.

“Eric!” He appears in the doorway of his office, holding his hands out as if he was some miraculous spectacle, and it takes every effort for Eric not to roll his eyes at him. “Did old Bess out there give you the update of last night?”

“We have two extra criminals confined until we can push the records on Candor. Yes, I saw it.”

“Okay, smoKAY…” Mick strolls into the room, falls into the spare chair opposite Eric and crosses one of his legs. “Give it to me.”

“Nothing to report.”

“So, it’s ultimately worked?”

“Kate is just as Dauntless as the next. I have no qualms she will pass and make it as an outstanding visionary officer.” He lets himself continue on with his work in distraction. He only had fifteen minutes until rushing to the Public Sector to meet the small group and he was certain he had enough time to write off some paperwork so he didn’t have to later.

“I see PC has lost his charm.”

“Rather boring, Mick.” He barely looks up from the desk.

“What’s got in your bones today? You’re acting the freak.” Mick leans further back, loosening the muscles in his neck.

Eric’s gaze is simmering as he finally lifts his head and puts down his pen. “She should know the truth.”

Mick doesn’t like it. He sits up straighter, gripping his hands together. “Almost a week ago you had your sights set on progression and progression alone. Now you’re stirring up shit like ‘I should tell her the truth’.”

“If she knew the truth, a lot of this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I know for a damn fact that she can’t even handle half of the truth!” Mick almost shouts and Eric all but stares at him. “You know, it’s kind of neat that this is all coming from the same guy who said, let me think… ‘Love makes you weak.’ Seems you got a little dose of that.” Mick growls, pulls out his phone and begins skimming through the menus. “Let me show you a little something.”

Eric keeps himself as still as possible when Mick turns the phone to him and shows him a bird's eye view of the dining room and kitchen, clear enough that they could see every fine detail. And right now, the twins were at the table eating, Kate just passing with a bag slung over her shoulder, heading for the front door.

“Cool, huh?” Mick smirks at him. “I feel like I’m at home. Home away from home when I look at that.” Eric knows where this is going and lets him have his moment. “So, it was mighty surprising to check in on my family and see you touching my Kate last night.” He pouts as he shrugs. “But I’m old and ugly enough to put my hands up when I have a little play in something and admit shit. SO, okay, I may have had a little part in this; thinking if she was looking at you, she weren’t at anyone else. But I did not, indeed, give a single piece of permission to you to reciprocate such actions. In fact, I warned you, son. That was a direct order, in the nicest way possible of course.”

“So, you were testing me last night…” Eric confirms, nodding his head with the new knowledge. He should have known.

“I trust Kate. But with you, I’m not so sure anymore.” He turns the phone off, leaning back. “She shot you down quick though, can’t say I’m not proud.”

“Because she is loyal to you, as am I.”

“Damn right. But I am doing, and will continue to do what I think is best.”

“You’re holding her back.”

Mick scoffs, leaning onto his knees and shakes his head. “From what? You?”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion, Mick. And through your insecurities, you can’t see the damage you are causing. If she knew her test results perhaps it would help her discover why she has always been different; why everything has always been challenging so that she can help herself.”

“You fucking blue-nosed prick! Keep your fancy thoughts to yourself. You don’t even know half of it-”

“No,” Eric speaks calmly. “You’re right, I don’t. But I know some of it…” He takes a sharp intake of breath and rolls back in his chair to stand. If he didn’t walk away now, he was afraid of what he might do. “And if you’ll excuse me, I got a job to do.”

Mick glares daggers at Eric’s back, mumbling, “As long as that ain’t my daughter… prick.”

Eric marches them furiously to the magnificent sight that is Erudite. The main structure of gleaming glass was easily awe-inspiring; something Kate couldn’t keep her eyes off in the distance. Scattered around the structure were living complexes, smaller and rectangular but also clearcut versions of the mothering building. The pathways were kept, grass brightly green and evenly lined. The practice of such upkeep making way for their prospect of wealth and knowledge of a clean life and mind.

The only thing, however, that greatly let the image down, was the six-foot high fences encircling the whole vicinity. Barbed wire skimmed the tops in coils, the intricate weave of the body no bigger than a finger’s width.

Kate wanted to admire Erudite longer but with the perimeter they took on their round, pushing them to walk the length of the fence, it forced her to track the factionless on the other side instead.

The factionless were different here, they were more reserved, unlike at Abnegation where they were begging. Here, it felt like they were waiting and it brought a strange sense of hostility. Kate pulls her gun closer on the thought.

“Factionless…” Harvey mumbles quietly beside her, wary of the prying ears around them. “...I’d rather be dead.” His words hit something hard in her chest, thinking of when her father was threatened with being factionless, the realization of exactly why he left her mother so hastily.

She replies, “Me too,” without specifically meaning it. She trails off, her march faltering as she spots a group of men and a woman with a child speaking with one of the men, puffing a cigarette. He seems angry, hissing something quickly to her and grabs her arm, the child not even batting an eye. He shakes her and Kate turns to the fence, reaching out to bash on it to at least distract him.

“Kate.” Eric’s hand grabs her wrist. “Ignore them. It may not appear it, but these people are more desperate than the factionless at Abnegation. These people rely on narcotics and medicine, and they are unafraid to express their opinions of Erudite or the other factions freely.”

“It’s sad,” is the only thing she manages to say, staring out to the messy groups of people without one strict law between them. The only laws they seemed to abide by were reinforced ones, from the factions they so greatly despised. The odds were never going be in their favor.

“Don’t pity them.” Eric watches her as she reaches out and touches the fence.

“Are they fenced out, or are we fenced in? I can’t figure out which one is more fitting.”

“We are divided. And to answer your question, we are all technically fenced in.” It takes a minute for Kate to realize he was talking about the wall surrounding the entire city.

“Do you ever wonder what is beyond it?”

“Some say nothing. Some say death. Factionless say a new world.” Eric juts his jaw out as he watches the argument between the man and woman evolve.

“I said do you ever wonder, not what other people think.” Kate turns her head over her shoulder just as he looks at her, and he flickers between her features, almost coaxing her to blush.

“I’ve been conditioned to compress my thoughts on certain subjects, but it doesn’t mean I have never questioned the possibility that we may not be alone.”

It’s almost exactly what she wanted to hear. If it had been another drawl of protocol again, she would have turned coldly, rightfully justified of her once harsh thoughts that he was a minion of her father’s; that there was nothing interesting but a sharp suit and predicted image. Instead, she stares at him a minute too long. “Last night, I didn’t mean what I said.”

It seems to take Eric by surprise and he barks a laugh. “What? So I’m not brave or admired? Are you insulting me now?”

“No, I… I didn’t want you to go last night.” Perhaps her own bravery was coming from being in an open and public place, that she momentarily felt that words said out here were different than if said in privacy.

The wind seems to pick up as he doesn’t reply, shifting from one foot to the other, a frown forming on his face. “That’s what you should have said last night then.” With his chin pulled to his chest, only his eyes dart up, probably to gauge her reaction. He breathes a long sigh as she bites her lips. “I wanted you to say that, last night,” he reiterates.

Her mouth goes slack and her eyes widen at him. “I didn’t upset you?”

The corners of Eric’s mouth flicker upwards at her surprised expression. “My forward approach can be a little overwhelming.” Kate doesn’t really know how to reply, so he takes charge instead. “...Just like my tutoring. So, if you’d get back with the others, that would be great.”

She needs a moment to compose herself, before she says, “Yes, sir!” Her equipment clutters when she walks away, but she’s happy that it’s not left awkwardly. She marks that as another thing she was beginning to like about Eric. He may not be empathetic, but he was sensible.

“...There are five established buildings, holding up to 60 families or more at Erudite,” Eric explains, walking ahead of them now as each, in turn, gawp at the clean infrastructure of the mother building from the inside. They had been cleared access, and only Eric was permitted inside still equipped with his rifle. As they were on training, theirs had to be secured before being allowed further into Erudite’s complex. “What we don’t see…” They come to a large door that he swipes his visitors pass to. “Is the product warehouses.” The doors bleep green and slide sharply open with a hiss. It’s a long, glass-roofed, and paved track, and off of it, Erudite workers were stationed behind booths in front of each individual opening from the track.

“Here…” Eric continues. “We have the the birth of generic items, produced for the five factions as a whole.”

“Generic items?” asks the young girl Kate had helped clear the ladder from before.

“For example, on a very low level, toothpaste, deodorant, everyday household items. This is where it is created and packed. The productivity has been the same for years. You may have heard of the history of ‘The Great Debate’ which was a time where each faction had their own council and paid extensively into Erudite to share the produce. Of course, the outcome was settled, the council promoted to one faction, and the items are now dispersed equally.”

“Abnegation being that new council and their views on communism,” Kate talks just above a whisper as they pass by the great rooms with machinery robotically humming through their quota

“Exactly. Maybe it is one thing we can thank Abnegation for, they abolished our taxes.” He stops to address them face to face. “Basic items aren’t the only thing produced here. Underneath our very feet is a hive working on pharmaceutical, serums, and weapons. Our presence is requested from time to time, but Erudite have their own security and officers replicating your very positions. It is essential that there is no disruption, and security details are only passed between Dauntless and Erudite marked highly classified.”

“Then why do we concentrate our efforts on Abnegation and not here?” Harvey asks.

“Erudite’s security is limited and solely concentrated. Our authority, however, touches all of the factions.” Eric peers over to a man in a booth concentrating only on the machine in front of him. “So take a good look now, because this may be the very last time you will ever get a chance to. A debrief into emergency situations regarding Erudite will be provided on the day you pass and sign strict confidentiality to.”

“What if someone infiltrates the information?” Kate asks, worried over the relaxed atmosphere when in reality, the convenience to their small world laid not far beneath the place she stood.

Eric grins sadistically. “The penalty of death.”

Kate is only just handed back her rifle when a buzz through the crowd captures her attention. She’s quick to sign her name, turning to find a few Erudite in the lobby parting ways to the sound of clicking heels. Shortly after, Jeanine and her personal entourage appear, a sleek smile on her face as she approaches, and instantly her eyes settle on Eric.

Jeanine holds his stare until she is within reach and she greets him politely. A few words are passed until Kate can overhear what they are saying. “I’m glad to see the future of our society still take a great interest in our productivity center. It is essential-” Suddenly, Jeanine’s sleek expression changes when she glances at Kate, hindering her speech but not enough to draw attention. “-that the small conditions we ask are abided by. I look forward to hearing of your advancement to full officers.”

Kate’s small group of rookie guards thank her and the atmosphere relaxes somewhat. That’s when Jeanine approaches, and Kate begins to stiffen. “I feel you are familiar.” Jeanine looks her up and down, leaning closer as she tilts her head. “But I can’t place you.”

“I’m Mick’s eldest daughter, Kate Jones.”

“Ah…” she drawls for a long moment. “Of course you are.” In Kate’s peripheral, she sees Eric shift closer. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Again?” Kate questions before she could even think about it.

Jeanine smiles. “Why, yes. But you were only a little girl the last time I saw you. Dauntless suits you. Say hello to Mick for me.”

Kate’s eyebrows are pinched as she watches Jeanine bow her head and toddle off with her swamping groupies.

“Kate,” Eric calls her, but she can’t help turning back to watch Jeanine further down the hall, stumbling to keep up and almost knocks into Eric holding the door for her. “You alright?” he murmurs.

She ponders for a moment, looking up to the building as they exit, the glass shimmering as something whispers in the back of her mind - a strange sense of familiarity of the same view. “...I’m fine.”