#((hi yes mod here i saw this last night and it KILLED me on sight thank you ive been wheezing every time i think of it))

[ask-benrey-in-the-void]

tommy..... ass..... vbitch????

[Gordon looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.]

Gordon: I... I don’t think that’s it-

Gordon: ...Kinda want it to be

[floosies]

Beechwood Park

pairing: 60′s au (Richard Madden x oc!poc!fem!Reader)

summary: In the late 60′s Cynthia was struggling model who’d just about reached her wits end and succumb to her parents wishes for her to continue her studies. Mr. Madden would say otherwise though.

warnings: age gap, smut, cursing, 18 + material

Series Masterlist

3. Smoke Dreams

Her mind couldn’t stop thinking about their private moment in the hallway. About his hands and how quickly he had her feeling like jelly. She’d only kissed a boy once at a birthday party when she was ten. Kissing him wasn’t like that, it was different in such a good way. She wasn’t innocent she knew what sex was and even though she was still pure, there were many men who she knew were waiting for a chance at her. 

One thing that was for certain though was he called again. They talked about it in whispers whilst Stella was still in the flat. She’d confessed that she had gotten the callback and had a photoshoot in the weekend. Mr. Egerton had agreed to be her agent and he’d send a car for her at 9 am sharp. Mr. Madden was happy to hear that she was doing well, but he had other plans.

Richard wanted to spend more time with her. His plan was to have a getaway with her in the upcoming week. He’d planned everything, he even went through Taron to make sure she was available. It did catch Cynthia off guard how well informed he was about her schedule. Stella wasn’t surprised at all, “I think he wants to be your daddy at this point.” She said playfully as they ate dinner  “oh please. I am far too young to be married, besides he’s practically an old man. Why would he want me?” 

Stella loved Cynthia like a sister, she really did, but god could Cynthia be so daft sometimes. They were watching some shite show on the telly when Stella brought it up again, “he looks at you like a dog looks at a bone. He wants you, and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up having you.” Cynthia didn’t want to admit the truth, but she had a feeling that her best friend was right, “I am not his type. I can’t be, look at me.” Goodness, “this is England love. That thing  doesn’t matter here. Let him have a chance at ya, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” 

With that, the weekend came. Sure enough the girls were ready for a small holiday in Brighton. Mr. Egerton of course had his photo shoot first, it went swimmingly. The photographer loved Cynthia, and Mr. Madden was there, well everyone was there. 

Richard could see her star power from the moment she began posing for the camera. It made him want her more. An intelligent woman with looks that could make him fall weak to his knees, he couldn’t wait to have her alone. A celebration dinner was in order for the first night out of the little holiday. Taron being a good wingman brought along an old uni friend, Dominic Cooper, his tastes and profession similar to Stella’s.

One would think that these pairs were couples from just seeing them together. Richard and Cynthia in their mod fashioned clothing, opposing Stella and Dominic in their monochromatic black outfits inspired by poetry obsessive intellectuals. Taron was the odd one out, but he still was in many of the conversations going on in the dinner table.

A conversation on relationships came about during dessert and it was very interesting to say the least. Stella made it a point to bring up the use of the word daddy as a nickname for a woman’s husband, “does a woman really want to reminded of her father?” Everyone laughed, but Cynthia quickly added, “I agree no one wants to think of their father, however I think it’s endearing really. Daddy seems like a title deserved if he really acts like what a daddy is supposed to be.” This intrigued everyone at the table, Taron raised a curious eyebrow. It was Dominic though who asked the question, “so how does a daddy behave Ms. Ridge?”

Cynthia could feel the heat on her face rising, she was in the hot seat now. She took a good drink of her champagne before answer, “he should be like Prince Phillip, modest and handsome.” Dominic rolled his eyes, “a monarchist. I knew it!” Stella laughed, “it’s only fitting for a woman of her intelligence and poise. Cynthia my dear you are extraordinary as always.” It seems everyone was content with her answer. It calmed her beating heart down a bit, she finally looked over at Mr. Madden who gave her a wink before finishing his last bit of champagne. 

Dinner ended nicely, Mr. Egerton reminded Cynthia she had some reshoots the next morning and then his car arrived taking him back to his beach front home. Stella and Dominic had hit it off, this led to Dominic convincing Stella to go with to a some poetry club near the hotel they were staying. This left Cynthia with Mr. Madden, she knew it would end well enough.

They were staying in the same hotel, “finally a moment alone.” She shyly grinned, “yes finally.” Into a lift they went, “so am I like Prince Phillip then?” Cynthia was caught a bit off guard, “oh. I umm..well...I suppose-” “darling I was only teasing. Besides would you ever see this old man as your daddy.” Her answer was a surprise to both of them, “I wouldn’t mind, if you’d want me.” They’d arrived on his floor and before she could react he was practically puling her into his room.

When the door closed a series of deep kisses began. Clothing was flying everywhere, but she had to stop it quickly, “Richard I’ve never-” he cut her off. “It’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” The lust was there though, “I want you to do everything just be gentle.” That was all that needed to be said. His lips began to trail sloppy kisses over her body until he’d reached her core. 

She’d never done anything like this, she felt something warm and wet. Then she felt a wave of pleasure as she realized it was his mouth. Looking down she saw his eyes staring at her. Her hands tangled into his hair as she slowly rode his face, it was so good, too good that she couldn’t control herself from climaxing. He went back up leaving more bruising kisses over her body. Cynthia didn’t know much about sex, but she was willing to try. Before he could do anything else, she turned them over and began descending to his groin. 

Her hands tugged on his member, she saw his head fall back with his lips parted open. She wanted to go further, but she wasn’t quite sure how to, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to love,” Richard’s voice coaxed raggedly. She still continued the soft pulls and tugs, “I just don’t know how is all.” 

Richard was somehow more turned on by her innocence, “it’s just like an ice lolli,” she went straight in. He fell back onto the bed, just the sight of her like this was enough for him. If she kept at it he wouldn’t last much longer. Gently he pulled her away, “I want tonight to be about you darling.” She laid under him again, his right hand trailed to her core again, gently teasing her bud whilst the other hand toyed with her breasts. He watched as her chest rose and fell heavily. He could feel the slick building up in his fingers. 

Pulling away he heard her small whines for more, he quickly went for the condom in trousers. Cynthia’s heart was racing, she couldn’t deny she wanted him but when she saw the size of him she wondered if it would even possible. He had just put on the thing, “it’ll only hurt at the start.” His fingers went to work again on her bud as he entered her. The pain was starting to be greater than the pleasure. 

He whispered sweet things in her ear and kissing the nape of her neck as he fully entered her. She was trying her hardest not cry, instead focusing on kissing him and his voice. After a minute or two, the intensity of the pain died and dulled, her hips began to rock against his member. Soon as he felt her wanting for more he began to slowly bottom out and move into her again. It didn’t take long for her to begin enjoying the feeling.

She had her arms draped under his shoulders, his head was nuzzled into her neck as he tried he mask his groans into her skin. Trying to hold back her moans was something that was getting difficult as the pleasure continued to build. Then she just couldn’t hold back, “p-pl-please harder.” He smirked, “I’ll do whatever you want me to darling, just say that I’ll be your daddy for life.” She moaned out a chant of yeses. 

Her legs were beginning to tremble as he thrusted and then he hit her sweet spot, and he knew it was it from the way she gasped out and arched her back. Her skin was glistening with sweat, she looked like an angel, the way she was tightening up around him, he knew she was close. He pulled her into almost a sitting position, “you’re close aren’t you darling?” His voice was shaky, and she was in bliss at this point, “oh daddy.” This only made him speed up his pace, “that’s right be a good girl for daddy. Daddy’s got you love, let go darling.” His fingers worked on her bud as he thrusted into her sweet spot. A strangled moan left her lips as she rode at her high.

They laid sprawled out, he was giving her a chance to catch her breath before running her a bath. Her eyes trailed to him, he was covered in her lipstick it made her giggle, he raised an eyebrow “what is it?” She smiled, “my lipstick is all over you.” He looked down seeing kiss marks and stains everywhere, he simply shrugged, “your lipstick looks good on me.” She moved in closer to him, “did you enjoy your first time?” She looked up at his blue eyes, nodding. He smiled, “do you really mean you want to be with me?” She was going to be the death of him, “of course I do. Now let’s run you a bath and then go to bed,” but if she would kill him, he would die with a smile.

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 18: Dragon Rising (part 2)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 18: Dragon Rising (part 2) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 18/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

Battle at the Watchtower

-------------------------

It didn't take long for Tim to catch up with Irileth and her handful of city guards near the stables just outside of Whiterun's walls. The dark elf had given Tim a odd look when he arrived, but said nothing except to stay close and to keep his eyes open for any signs of dragon in the night sky.

As Tim walked along the road towards the watchtower that had been attacked, all traces of weariness had bled away to be replaced by growing sense of dread and anxiety. The hour was late, and Tim honestly wasn't sure he'd be able to spot the black dragon from Helgen against the dark night sky. Adding to his unease was the smell of smoke wafting towards them even before they saw the light from the fires burning in and around the destroyed watchtower. He immediately recognized the smell of burning wood and charred flesh, and he felt his stomach churn.

Still, he kept pushing forward along with Irileth and her guards without a word about his discomfort.

They stopped by a pile of large stones a short way from the watchtower. The soldiers and Irileth were stunned by the amount of damage. The stone structure had a jagged scar cutting through the top half of the structure, the wound illuminated by fires burning within it. Rubble from the tower and bodies of soldiers both burning and simply dead lay scattered around the grounds of the tower. However, despite all the visible carnage, there was no sight of the dragon anywhere, and no sounds except for the crackling flames and cold wind blowing through the grass. 

The silence was unsettling. Tim had been around long enough to know that out in this land, even at night there ought to have other noises. Wolves... Owls... Foxes... Deer... Insects... The sounds of Skyrim's nocturnal creatures were just not there. 

"No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here," Irileth said as she scanned the watchtower and the skies. Then she looked to her men and Tim. "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened, and if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere." She made a motion that her men immediately recognized as a "move out" command. "Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with." 

When Irileth's eyes fell on Tim, he nodded as a good soldier would. Before she turned to follow her men, the dark elf's red eyes drifted to a point over Tim's shoulder and behind him, and she inclined her head in a "look over there" gesture. Curious, Tim glanced behind him and his own blue eyes widened in surprise.

"Lucien? What are you doing here?" he asked the scholar in surprise as the other man jogged up and finally stopped to catch his breath. 

"What does it look like?" Lucien gasped out between breaths. 

"You didn't have to come."

"Yes I did." Lucien looked at Tim square in the eyes with a determined expression. "We Flaviuses have a reputation to always keep our promises, and I will be damned if some idiot Jarl, a bloodthirsty dragon, and your obvious lack of self-preservation sense makes a liar out of me before I can get you home!"

Tim felt a small part of the anxious knot in his chest unwind, just a little, as he smiled at Lucien gratefully. "Thank you," he said softly. Then he turned to the watchtower while arming himself with his bow and a nocked arrow. "The dragon doesn't seem to be around at the moment. Irileth wants us to look for survivors."

Lucien nodded and appeared to ready a frost spell in his hands, a cold mist swirling around his fingers. "Lead the way, then."

***

The pair of them moved towards the bridge leading into the body of the damaged watchtower. Tim could see Irileth's soldiers checking on the survivors and fallen on the outer grounds, so he directed Lucien to join him at the tower itself. As they got closer, he could hear one of the watchtower guards trying desperately to warn Irileth away.

"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere!" 

Tim froze.

"Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

Tim felt his heartbeat thudding in his ears. As Lucien went to the guardsman to check on his injuries, Tim immediately began scanning the skies. Suddenly, the guard gasped and his words sent a chill down Tim's spine. 

"Kynareth save us, here he comes again!"

The statement was punctuated by a familiar terrifying roar and the sound of wind rushing past wings. Tim's eyes zeroed in on a dark shadow sailing past the blood red moon and into a bank of gray clouds in the sky. Despite himself, Tim's hands trembled on his bow.

Irileth's commanding voice cut through the night. "Here he comes! Find cover and make every arrow count!" 

Suddenly a dark shadow and an unnatural rush of wind nearly knocked Tim and the others off the watchtower bridge. Tim immediately moved to shove Lucien into nearby cover with a group of other guards, who were firing arrows into the sky. Tim was about to find his own cover and join them when something massive landed heavily on the ground, causing an earthquake like tremor that knocked Tim off the bridge and to the ground below. 

Pain shot through his body at the impact of the fall, and his head spun. Despite this, Tim managed to keep a grip on his bow and he forced himself to get to his feet as quickly as he could. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and screamed at him to move.

Then he froze as he turned to see face of the enormous menacing dragon staring straight at him just a yard from where he stood.

The massive beast's eyes narrowed as he stared at Tim. Though he was terrified, Tim immediately brought up his bow and fired at the dragon point blank. The dragon jerked his head up to avoid the projectile even as other arrows began to rain down on him from the other guards. Then, to the young man's shock, the dragon opened his mouth and words spilled out.

"I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!"

Tim's eyes widened. "You can talk?!"

Instead of an answer, the dragon pulled back his head with an obvious inhale. "YOL... " Tim immediately recognized the word from Helgen.

"Get back!" he yelled at the guards and Lucien in alarm as he himself ran for cover. "Fire! Fire!"

"TOOR SHUL!!" 

Tim just barely dove for cover behind a pile of stone rubble as a blast of intense fire scorched the earth and air around him. He couldn't restrain the scream of terror as he huddled behind the rocks as much as he could to avoid the flames. Suddenly the flames stopped and there was a rush of air against the ground, putting out some of the grass fires around him, as the dragon took off into the sky again.

"Timothy!" A blast of cold mist washed over the area around Tim as the young man gasped for air. Suddenly Lucien was in front of him, his frosted over hands cradling Tim's face. The shock of cold against his skin startled Tim out of the fear-induced daze he'd fallen into.

"Lucien?!" Tim gasped as he became aware of his surrounding. 

"We need to move! Back to the bridge!" Lucien tried to help him to his feet. 

Still gripping his bow, Tim moved as quickly as he could to cover with Lucien underneath the bridge. He forced himself to nock arrow after arrow at the dragon as he flew circles around them, sending fire blasts at various targets. It was only because of Lucien that he was able to keep moving from cover to cover. Whenever the dragon roared or a blast of fire hit too close, Tim would flinch hard or even freeze in place. Rather than using his magic to attack the dragon itself, Lucien chose instead to use his ice spells to put out the various fires on the ground, which allowed Tim and the other soldiers move more safely without getting burned. The cold of the icy mist Lucien used seemed to break through Tim's fear and kept him moving.

"Look!" Lucien cried out and pointed as they felt the ground rumble from the dragon's landing again. "I think... he's almost dead!"

Tim's gaze followed Lucien's hand and stared grounded dragon. Dozens of arrows were embedded in its thick hide and blood poured from the wounds on its body and head. The membrane of one of his wings was in tattered and made it so that the beast could no longer take to the air. That didn't stop it from trying to snap at nearby soldiers daring to take up swords against it, or sending blasts of fire when it could do so with those same three words as before. 

Swallowing hard, Tim lifted his bow and continued firing arrows at the dragon along with the other soldiers. Each arrow felt heavier than the last though, as despite his fear of the beast he couldn't get out of his head that this monster had spoken to him. Despite the fact that this dragon was trying to kill all of then, it was a sentient, intelligent creature, and Tim's hand was one of many working to end its life! 

As Tim nocked one more arrow to his bow and drew it back, he felt his hands tremble. Time seemed to slow around him and the dragon. The beast had just finished firing a blast of fire at a soldier on the ground and had turned to glare at Tim just as his fingers released their grip on the arrow. As the arrow flew, something shifted in the dragon's expression, as if realizing something important in that one moment about the young mortal man standing before him.

Tim's arrow struck true, piercing the dragon in the throat, and seemed to be the final blow needed to fell the beast. The dragon reared its head back. "Dovahkiin? No!!" it roared in agony before collapsing to the ground.

Tim felt his eyes whell up with tears and they spilled out down his cheeks as the soldiers around him cheered wildly in victory.

"I'm sorry..." Tim whispered as his bow fell from numb fingers. From somewhere far away, he could hear Lucien calling out to him with concern, but all Tim could do was stare as the life faded from the dragon's eyes. He walked forward slowly towards the dragon's body, guilt wracking his conscience.

"Wait! Look at that!" a guard exclaimed with alarm. 

Tim and everyone who had been moving towards the dragon froze as the body of the beast began to ignite and dissolve right before their eyes. 

"What's happening?!" Lucien cried out.

"Everyone get back!" Irileth shouted, and nearly everyone scrambled to pull away from the dragon.

Everyone but Tim. 

Tim was frozen in place. He barely even registered the chaos around him as he stared at the dragon as its very scales and flesh ignited in a cascading spontaneous combustion, leaving behind nothing but clean white bone. Then, the bones themselves began to glow with a bright blinding light as a sudden gust of swirling wind carried that light straight for him. 

Reflexively, Tim pulled up his arms to shield his face and closed his eyes, but after a moment he realized that the wind was not inflicting any more pain on his body. Slowly he opened his eyes and watched with confused awe as the tendrils of light on the wind swirled around and into his body. As the winds died down and the light faded, Tim raised a hand and pressed it to his chest. Something was... different... But he couldn't quite articulate what that was. What was it that dragon had said as it died? What was that word?  

"Dovahkiin?" he whispered to himself.

The sound of armored soldiers rushing to his position immediately set him on edge. For a brief moment, he thought that perhaps they were rushing to attack him, that whatever had just happened had made him a new threat in their eyes. Tim turned to them, hands upraised to show he was unarmed.

But there were no swords or bows drawn against him.

Instead, all the soldiers there were staring at him in awe and... reverence?

"I can't believe it!" one of the guards closest to him said. "You're... Dragonborn..."

"Dragon... born?" Tim echoed with clear confusion. "What do you mean?"

The Nord soldier explained. "In the very oldest tales, back from when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed the dragon's power?"

Tim felt a coil of fear and dread tighten in his chest. He could feel himself shake his head in reflexive denial. "I... I don't know," he stammered uneasily as he turned to stare at the dragon bones again. "I don't know what happened to me."

As the guards began to murmur amongst themselves about the stories they heard as children of the Dragonborn, Tim felt like his brain was short circuiting. He wanted to deny everything that was being said around him, but he just couldn't seem to find his voice.

"That's right! My grandfather used to tell stories about the Dragonborn..."

"...born with the Dragon Blood in 'em..."

"...Like old Tiber Septim himself..."

"...You must be one!"

One of the guards finally addressed Irileth. "What do you say, Irileth? You're being awfully quiet." 

Tim turned his gaze to the dark elf and was startled to find that her red eyes had been focused on him this entire time. She averted her gaze when he caught her and turned to her guards.

"Hmph. Some of you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums on matters you don't know anything about."

Somehow, hearing that made Tim feel marginally better. A little more grounded anyway. He watched as Irileth went over to the dragon's bones and nudged them with her sword. 

"Here's a dead dragon, and that's something I can definitely understand."

Tim felt a touch on his arm again, and he turned to look at Lucien, who appeared to be as dazed as he felt. Still the scholar tried to put on reassuring smile. "Now Whiterun should be safe, yes? The dragon that burned you and Helgen is dead now. That's a relief, isn't it?"

Tim froze. "No... That's not right..." he murmured.

Irileth caught their conversation and turned to Tim and Lucien. "What do you mean by that? The dragon is dead at our feet."

Shaking his head, Tim searched the ground for a moment before finding what he was looking for. He knelt down and picked up a scale that had not combusted with the rest. "The dragon that attacked Helgen was black," he said solemnly as he brushed away the soot that had been on the scale. From where he knelt, he offered the scale to Irileth. "This one was grey." Even as the words left his lips, Tim felt that coil of fear and dread tighten even more. "This was a different dragon."

The elf's face became grim as she took the scale and examined it closely. "That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few. If dragons are coming back... If the black one from Helgen was only the first for many... Then we need to prepare. At least now we know they can be killed."

Tim bowed his head and slowly rose to his feet. The thought of another dragon dying at his hands made him feel sick to his stomach. However, the moment he stood up fully, his sense of balance pitched, and he nearly fell back down again. The only reason he stayed even partially upright was because Lucien caught him. Even then, though, Lucien was not strong enough to keep him on his feet for long. He was forced to ease Tim down to the ground gently as he could manage without hurting him further.

"L-Lucien," Tim gasped as his vision began to blur and darken around the edges. 

"Damn it!" Lucien cursed as he pressed his hand to Tim's forehead. "You're burning up! You've pushed yourself too far!"

"Sorry," Tim whispered as he closed his eyes, suddenly feeling so dizzy and tired. "Should've listened to you."

Irileth knelt down as well. Her eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's sick!" Lucien snapped angrily. "He was burned at Helgen and the wounds were never healed properly. They're infected!"

As Tim's consciousness faded into blackness, he could hear the alarm in Irileth's voice as she immedately started barking orders for her men to fetch a horse and cart as fast as they could. "We need to get him to the Temple NOW!"

  -------------------------

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2:

In my head, the Batman's "No Killing" rule applies not just to human beings, metahumans, or aliens that are humanoid in appearance, but to all living creatures that are intelligent and sentient. Capacity for speech is a big identifier of this type of sentience.

When Tim first encountered the black dragon in Helgen, he may have heard the dragon "Shouting" his spells, but didn't really register them as words at the time. Here, Tim heard the grey dragon (Mirmulnir) actually speaking, so it flipped a switch in Tim's perception that dragons are not mere beasts.

So this, technically, is Tim's first instance of breaking his adopted father's "No Killing" rule in Skyrim, and it's hit him very hard... as if his interaction with the first black dragon wasn't traumatic enough...

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[hellfirenacht]

The Convention Fic Chapter 2

Note: I’m so humbled and overwhelmed by the amount of love that the first chapter got. Thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs! 

First Chapter

((Gamer Beej picture by @edgy-drama-queen​))

Months Earlier 

You laid in your bed, huddled under a hundred covers. Beside you, a mountain of used tissue and a few discarded empty bottle of assorted flavors of Gatorade. Your brain felt muddled and your nose wouldn’t stop running, every part of your seemed to ache as you scrolled through Twitch, trying to find anything that would keep your attention. You were sure that once you did settle on something, you’d be able to comfortable space out, but while you still had the strength to be picky. 

The small cold that you had woken up with had steadily gotten stronger through the day. It was now in full swing, and completely kicking your ass. It was two in the morning, and after sleeping on and off all day you were awake (for better or worse). You wanted something easy to watch, or at least entertaining enough to keep your mind from thinking about how everything ached, or how your nose was chapped from blowing it all day. 

BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE (LIVE)

The thumbnail was simple, and it looked like it had just started. There wasn’t much of a description but you found yourself clicking anyway. Once loaded, you were mildly surprised at what you saw; a man looking to be in his early thirties, with green-ish hair (possibly copying Jack...?), scruffy face, and way too close to the camera. 

“Is this- can you guys see me? Say my name three times if you can’t see me!” the man said messing with the camera. You set your laptop to the side and laid down so that you could type with one hand and watch at the same time. You mumbled his name three times as requested, even though you could see him. 

“It’s showtime, gamers!” he said. “I don’t have anything planned for tonight so let’s just boot up steam and play what seems like fun!”

You watched for the next ten minutes as he scrolled through his steam library and picked out a clicker game. 

“Apparently all you do in this game is click your mouse over and over to kill monsters.” he said. “Doesn’t sound too exciting but I’m more in the mood to talk to all of you!”

You glanced at the viewer count in the corner, there were barely 10 people, wait, 9 people in the chat. However, the way that he talked it was as though he was talking to thousands of people. 

As he played his clicker game he asked questions to the chat, he seemed to have a gimmick where he acted like he was dead or a demon or something; you honestly couldn’t tell which in your half-dead state yourself. The few times you participated in the chat, you just responded with simple yes or no answers to his questions.

As the night went on and you continued to doze in and out of sleep, Beej continued to talk. He talked about his friends Barb and Adam (“They turn me on!”), and someone named Lydia (“She’s my best friend!”). At one point you think you caught sight of a blond woman and managed to type out “hi Barb.” which surprisingly got caught his eye. 

“Wow, two words from BlankFace!” He laughed. “That’s a new record! HEY BARB MY FRIEND SAYS HI!” 

Friend? Sure, why not. You couldn’t help but smile as he continued rambling about the time that he tried to teach them how to be scary. It was a silly story, but it made you fall back asleep for a bit more. 

It was nearly six in the morning when you cracked your eyes open again, surprised to see that the stream was still going. Though by this point, you were the only one left in the stream. He wasn’t talking anymore, having switched over to Minecraft and was running around with TNT blowing stuff up. 

“Hi” you managed to type, and a few seconds later he smiled. 

“Heya there BlankFace!” he said. “Thought you died there for a few hours!” 

“almost” then “sick” was your response. 

“Wait, if you’re sick, shouldn’t you be asleep or in bed?” he asked, frowning into the camera. 

You thought for a second, on how to respond to this man who you barely knew, and yet already knew way too much about. (Though at this point, you weren’t quite sure what part of the stream was real and what part was a fever dream). Why had you stuck around for this long on the stream? You knew the answer, and decided to be honest. 

“Lonely” 

He stopped playing for a moment, looking at the word that had appeared on his screen. If your face hadn’t already felt too warm from the fever, you would probably feel embarrassed by your honesty. 

“You want me to keep talking or just keep playing?” he asked, the energy in his voice softened slightly. 

“Yes.” was the last thing you typed out before falling asleep again. 

Friday (Morning)

“It’s showtime, gamers!” Beetlejuice yelled into the camera that he had shoved in your hands. “It’s day 1 of the con and I’m down here with everyone’s favorite BeetleMod! Hey babes say hi to everyone!” just as quickly as he had given you the camera, it was now being snatched out of your hands and pointed at you.

You weren’t sure how much you wanted to be on camera at the moment, being so exhausted already but you knew it’d be easier to go along with it for right now. “Hey guys! I made it to the con!” you said. 

“Alright, enough of the eye-candy.” Beej said, handing you back the camera. “It’s 2 in the morning-”

“Three.” you corrected. 

“Time means nothing when you’re dead.” he replied. “It’s really fucking late and we’re down here in the arcade with a bunch of imported games that aren’t on the computer so we’re gonna play some and our favorite mod here is gonna help me out.”

“I’ll kick your ass at DDR.” you said. 

“Oh, is that a challenge?” he asked, smirking at the camera. “We’ll see about that.”

“Bring it on, bug boy.” you replied. 

The two of you made your way to the DDR machine, and spent the next 20 minutes waiting in line to play. Even in the middle of the night and so early in the convention, it was surprisingly crowded in the arcade. The basement lights were off, save for a few flood lights along the walls and the glow of the many different arcade machines. There was something surreal about standing next to Beej under the neon lights. His green hair seemed to glow even more, and you wondered if there was some glow-in-the-dark hair gel that he used. He often used a multicolored ring light  to convey emotion, but as you waited and talked to him, for a moment, you could believe that his hair could change colors so easily. 

“How do you get your hair to do that?” you asked, looking up at him. 

“Do what, babes?”

“The color change thing. It looks like your hair is almost glowing.” at your words, you could have sworn it glowed brighter. Though that could also just be because of the games flashing around you. 

“I’m a demon, that’s how we work!” he replied, faking offence. “I thought my best mod would have known that by now.” 

“You know, the camera’s off.” you said. “You don’t have to keep putting on a show for my sake.”

He looked at you for a moment, his fake offence shifting to an emotion you tried to grasp; embarrassment maybe? Surprise? Maybe a mixture? He shook it off quickly though and wrapped his arm around your shoulders again. 

“No show here, doll.” he said with a smirk, and your heart jumped in your chest at the new nickname. “I am 100% demon.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I thought you were ‘the ghost with the most.’” 

“I am!” he pouted. 

“So are you dead or are you a demon?” you questioned. “You’ve never been fully clear on that.”

“I’m dead on the inside.”

“Oh, same.” 

The two of you laughed and his arm stayed around your shoulders until the two of you were up next. From what you knew about him, he was a very physically affectionate man. On stream, he wasn’t one to hesitate hugging and smooching whoever happened to be on camera with him. Beej had no problem hugging Lydia or kissing Adam on the lips. It led to a lot of questions about his sexuality and relationship status. When asked, he said his sexuality was “yes” and that he was happily dating the Maitlands, which Adam and Barbara denied every time. 

Anyone who dared make any inappropriate comment about him and Lydia would be banned on site; a job that you had to do more times than you wanted to admit. Disgusting. 

Still, even though you were sure that the physical contact was only as a friend as you watched the last pair of dancers do their three rounds of DDR you allowed your mind to wander a bit. You imagined for a moment what it would be like if this weekend was one long date between the two of you. Would he use more nicknames? Would he introduce you to people as his partner? What if the two of you were sharing a room and there was only one bed-

“Looks like we’re up, got the camera ready?” He asked, hopping onto the small stage. You made quick work of getting the camera back on and setting it on the slightly busted tri-pod that Beej had produced from his bag. After making sure the angle was right, you hopped on next to him, taking the right pad. 

Before the two of you had made your way to the front of the line you had agreed to a few rules for this game. It was best 2 out of 3, and you would both be playing on normal mode.

“You pick the first song.” he said.

You scrolled through the easy songs first, needing a warmup. When was the last time you had played this game properly? It seemed like so long ago that you had a chance to play. 

The first song was an easy song that you remembered from your younger nerd days. It took you a second to get into the rhythm of it but halfway through you had found your groove to a degree. 

You won the first round, and the two of you smiled at each other before he picked the next song, a little harder this time but you felt more or less confidant. 

The beat of the song rattled your insides as you pounded onto the metal stage with your sneakers. You focused as hard as you could on the screen, trying to keep your feet where they needed to be when it was time to stomp. This round was a little harder, and more taxing on you. Though you won the second round, you were nearly doubled over panting. 

“Looks like you win, doll.” Beej said, looking at the screen. 

“Yeah but we still got one more round. Go ahead, I’ll let you pick.” you offered, being a gracious winner. 

He immediately stomped on the hardest song of the game. 

“Oh geeze, are we really doing this?” you asked with breathless laughter, standing up again. 

He looked around, almost as if to make sure that no one was paying attention. “I think it’d just be a fun challenge.” he shrugged. 

The fast music started up again, and you found it near impossible to have your eyes focus on the arrows that were flying across your screen. Though the first two songs had provided enough of a challenge, this one was near impossible to keep up with. You lost track of your feet and within thirty seconds you were hit with that game over screen. 

You glanced over at Beej, surprised that he was still going. He wasn’t perfect by any means but he was still somehow not losing. Your eyes glanced down as his legs, blurry with the speed he was dancing at and you rubbed your eyes, feeling like something was wrong. You really must be way more tired than you thought, because for a few seconds you would have sworn that Beej had three legs. 

Still, even if he did have three legs that didn’t help him win the final round. Though he lasted a good minute in the level, it wasn’t enough to win. The game over screen flashed and he was booed off the stage by the imaginary crowd. 

“That... was really impressive.” you said, grabbing the camera again as the two of you moved out of the way for the next set of dancers. “How did you move your legs that fast?!”

He winked at you. “Trade secret, doll.” he replied. “Once you’re a true DDR master, then you’ll know.”

“Dude, I kicked your ass though.” you replied, following him towards the next row of games. “Shit, did you let me win?!” you demanded. 

“Hey watch your language!” he teased. “You’re a mod you gotta set a good example for the kids!”

“What kids, most of your streams are marked 18+.” 

“18+? In my-”

“Good Christian Discord server?!” you both finished at the same time, laughing at the dumb inside joke. 

That’s how the next few hours went with you and Beej. You walked around the arcade, playing games, roasting each other, and giving your opinions on the games. When you weren’t filming him, you were filming the general area getting some good b roll footage of the night. You were constantly swapping between looking at him through the lense and looking at him in front of you. It seemed so unreal that he was actually there and talking to you and touching you in person. 

You secretly hoped this weekend would never end. 

The battery in the camera died around 6 in the morning, and you let out a long yawn as you helped pack it back up. 

“I’m exhausted.” you said, feeling yourself hit a wall. “I’m gonna head back to bed soon and crash. What time is the... thingy?”

“The what?” Beej asked, amused. 

“The thingy you wanted to do tonight. The Friday surprise... thingy.” Oh yeah, your brain no longer existed. 

“Don’t worry about it, you just go get some res- hey, woah!” he jumped slightly and held you upright as you wobbled against him. “Are you okay?”

“...Sleepy...” you mumbled into the hoodie. 

“Okay, what’s your room number, I’m taking you back. I don’t need my favorite mod passing out on the escalators and getting shredded to pieces.” he said, holding you tight against his side. 

“4130.” you mumbled, too tired to disagree and say you could make it yourself. 

You held onto him as he led you through the small crowd of people that were just waking up or also headed to bed. He felt both warm and cool at the same time with your head against his shoulder. The cloudiness of your brain reminded you of the first time you had watched his streams months and months ago. 

“HOPE UR FEELING BETTR!” the message in your inbox said the next day. You almost forgot that you had attempted to watch a stream last night and had confessed that you were sick and lonely. 

“I am, thanks!” you replied. You still mostly felt like crap, but you were conscious enough to at least reply to the message the streamer left. 

“IF UR STILL LONLEY U SHULD JOIN MY GROUP CHAT!!!!” 

You managed to open the door to the hotel room and immediately dropped your badge, your bag, and your pants in that order. 

“Nice undies, doll.” Beej snickered, not even hiding the fact that he was looking you over, and that’s when you realized what you had done. “And here I thought I was gonna have to buy you dinner first.” 

You attempted to hide your embarrassment as you went to your bag and dug out a pair of sleep shorts. “Shhhhhhh....” you whispered, pulling them on. “You didn’t see anything.” 

“Right, I totally didn’t see you lead me up to your hotel room, invite me in, and drop your pants.” he replied, still smirking at you. “If that’s the reward I get just for walking your home, I can’t wait to see what happens after our date tonight!” 

“...Date?” you suddenly felt a little more alert as your head jerked towards him. “Tonight is a date?” you asked again and you saw Beej’s face suddenly turn to panick as well. 

“Hey, you’re really tired I’m gonna let you go now get some rest and text me when you wake up. Later, doll!” he said very fast and quickly left. You wanted to run after him, and demand an explanation for what was going on, but you were still too tired. You had barely slept in the last two days out of excitement and nerves. 

‘This is a problem for Afternoon Me.’ you decided, crawling into bed and rearranging the pillows the way you liked. The blackout curtains blocked the rising of the sun and you felt a mild twinge of mourning for the breakfast pass for the hotel that would go unused today. Sleep came easily and quickly as the last thoughts that passed through your brain were of Beej’s arms holding you close. 

“Looks like we’re getting more people in the group chat lately.” you said over voice chat. 

“Do you wanna be a mod?” he asked you to your surprise. “You could help make rules and stuff and make sure no one says anything inappropriate about Lydia. Or Adam. Only I’m allowed to say inappropriate stuff about Adam.” 

“I’d love to!” 

Next Chapter

[teamhook]

CSSNS 2019 Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star)

Hello all!

This is my contribution to this year’s @cssns

I know my other story is still going on and it will find it’s ending, but since I cannot say no to @kmomof4 here I am, once more.

I wanna thank the lovely ladies at the CSSNS Discord. I love chatting with you all.

I wanna thank the mods of CSSNS19, my lovely very patient Beta @searchingwardrobes and my artist for the event @hollyethecurious

Below the cut, you will find the current chapter and at the end art by me.

AO3

FFN

Killian woke up at dawn and quickly changed. He realized now how much he had missed the sea. Sure, there was the lake he'd mention to Emma last night, but it wasn't the same. The smell of sea salt called to him. He looked outside his window to make sure there was enough light for him to take a walk to the docks.

He rushed out of the inn. It was a fresh morning and the air was cool and crisp. He arrived quickly to the docks. The ship was easy to spot. The Jewel I floated proudly on the gentle waves. The last time he was on the ship he had his mum and Liam. They were a happy family, and now they were gone. The Jones family ship looked a little beat up. He was surprised, knowing how particular his father was. He touched the ship reverently. While lost in thought on the ship's deck, he missed a swish in the shadows.

There was a sudden change in the air. His heart sped up, and his senses were on full alert now. He turned just in time to come face to face with the thing that killed his mum and had been terrorizing young Leo.

It had a cloak and its face was pale and covered in scars, with white eyes. The thing tilted its head in recognition and glided towards him. Killian turned and grabbed a steel hook hanging from the ship's wheel. He sliced through the creature, and it shrieked as it disappeared. He thought that maybe those supernatural shows were onto something. Killian looked around to make sure he was alone once more. Still shaking, it took him a minute to calm down. He shoved the hook into his back pocket and finally left the ship. He walked to the inn as fast as he could. He gave Ruby a strained smile as he walked by the front desk.

~~~

Emma woke up to the sound of scuffling. She darted up, her eyes instantly turned to the spot Leo was supposed to be. "Em, I'm hungry." The boy told her. She studied him for a bit. He looked better, he was rested. She couldn't help but smile. Killian had been back for one day, and her little brother had managed to sleep through the night.

"Okay, kid. Let me get ready. Is Killilan in the restroom?" She got up and stretched.

"Nope, he wasn't here when I woke up." He looked at her with his big eyes.

"Okay," she looked around the room. She panicked for a nanosecond. His things were all still there. "Well, he probably went to the diner. Leo, go to the restroom, and brush your teeth. There's an extra toothbrush for you. Wash your face too. Killian probably just got hungry, and he didn't want to wake us up."

The boy rushed to the restroom. Emma picked up her clothes to get ready once Leo vacated the restroom.

The door flew open, and Emma met a rattled Killian. Her brow rose as he looked around the room. "Emma, where's Leo?"

"He is in the restroom. Why?"

"That bloody thing just attacked me at the docks."

"Wait, right now? In the morning?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, it was in the shadows, but I used this" he takes out the hook from his back pocket. "It went away. I think it caused it pain. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits."

“This helped?”  She took the hook from his hand.

The restroom door flew open, and Leo burst out. As soon as he saw Killian, and ran to him. The boy hugged him tightly. Emma couldn’t hide her smile. Killian’s eyes met Emma’s, and for a moment happiness flowed over them.

The moment was interrupted by Leo's stomach growling, and the trio erupted in laughter.

Killian sobered up, "I'm guessing, Granny's for breakfast."

Emma cleared her throat, "Yeah, give me a second to change." She handed Killian the hook.

Leo's eyes lit up at the sight, "Whoa, is that a hook? Can I touch it?"

Killian looked at Emma for guidance, but she had gone inside the restroom already. He pondered if he should let the lad touch it. The boy just wanted to look at it, how bad could it be?

"Alright, lad. Just a quick touch."

The boy’s eyes went wide with excitement. "Cool!"

The boy's fingers barely tapped the hook.

"Leo, be careful. The tip is sharp, and I don't think your sister would appreciate it if you hurt yourself."

Leo rolled his eyes. A family trait he shared with Emma.

Emma finally emerged from the restroom, fresh-faced. She wore the same clothes from the day before, but still managed to look beautiful.

“Alright boys, I’m ready and starving.”

~~~

Leo sat next to Emma, and Killian sat across from them. The trio looked over the menu.

Granny approached the table with a big wolfish smile. Ruby had mentioned that Emma’s friend Killian was back. Unlike most of the town, the older woman never believed the boy had hurt his mother. What happened that night she didn’t know, but she did know the boy adored his mother. She could see it each and every time the Joneses entered the diner for some food.

“Good morning, so what can I get you?” Granny asked.

Emma answered, “Good morning, Granny, can we have three orders of pancakes?”

“Of course,” the older lady raised both eyebrows, “anything else? Maybe some eggs and bacon?”

Killian turned his gaze to the young Leo, “That sounds lovely, Lady Lucas.” He gave her a charming smile.

Granny smiled, “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you boy?” Her gaze turned to Emma, “I can definitely see the appeal.” She finished writing on her pad and headed to the kitchen.

Emma’s cheeks turn red. Is it that obvious? She tried her best to avoid Killian’s gaze.

They were enjoying their delicious food and failed to notice the pair arriving at the table.  

Ahem.

Emma, Killian, and Leo turn to the source of the sound. Her dad and mom beam at them. “Good morning, my sweethearts,” Mary Margaret gushed.

David added, “That looks delicious. May we join you?”

Leo smiled and nodded. Emma glanced at Killian. “Yeah--” She waited for a sign from him that she needed to decline, but all she saw was a genuine smile on his face.

David guided his wife to sit in the empty spot Killian had left vacant. Killian slid over in the booth to make room for Mary Margaret. David graciously got an empty chair from another table and sat down.

Granny approached them as quickly as her age allowed. “I’m guessing you two don’t need to see the menu. The usual?”

Mary Margaret and David nodded their agreement.

Emma, Leo, and Killian continued eating. The silence was overwhelming. Young Leo was the one who broke it once he was done chewing his food. “Mom, Dad I finally slept through the night. Look-” He pointed to his well-rested eyes, and gave a smug smirk. “Thanks to Killian, he kept the monster away.”

Killian winced, Emma muttered, “shit.” Leo, oblivious, dove back into his food.

Mary Margaret and David shared a look. “Son, what monster?” David looked at Leo for clarification.

Emma responded for him, “Dad, he means” she lowered her voice so her parents were the only ones to hear her “the night terrors. He doesn’t need the treatment the doctor is recommending.”

“Just because he had one good night doesn’t mean he is better,” David stated.

Mary Margaret was awfully quiet just looking at her son. He looked happy, relaxed. and rested. “We could wait, look at him, he does look better.”

Killian was extremely quiet still eating.

Mary Margaret turned to Killian, “Killian, I’m sorry we’ve been rude. It is so nice to see you.”

David tilted his head to get a better look at him. “Killian, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry-”

Killian’s bright blue eyes turned to them. “It is nice to see you both.” He added politely.  

Granny arrived with Mary Margaret and David’s food.

David looked at his food. All those years ago, he had asked Emma to keep away from Killian. Yet they’ve found each other once more. Once the awkwardness had disappeared, everyone enjoyed their breakfast.

Mary Margaret and David asked Emma to keep an eye on Leo since they had to take care of some errands before the Gala.  

Emma and Killian were just talking about simple things when Belle burst through the door. The little belle announcing her arrival was still chiming when she reached their table.

“I think I found something,” Belle told them, out of breath.

Emma smiled, “Okay Belle, calm down. Catch your breath, and you can tell us what it is you found.”

Belle grinned and dropped some sort of archive/record book. It looked old. “Look here. There were disappearances for almost 300 years but not as consistent as in the last 100 years. The most notable were of the founding families, and it was always the second born child to disappear.”

Emma bit her lower lip and glanced at Killian. Despite everything, Emma was just happy Leo was in the kitchen making cookies with Ruby like a normal kid.

Killian asked, "When did the attacks begin?"

Emma added, "Yeah, something must have triggered them."

Belle looked at the pair, “The attacks started about 300 years, but they were rare. There’s no exact date. I agree something triggered them to become more consistent in the last 100 years give or take. I think it coincides with the Gala. We started the Gala to celebrate the founding families about 100 years ago, right? That is when the attacks intensified. You’re both descendants. Killian is the second Jones, so he was attacked. Emma you are the eldest, Leo is the second and was attacked.”

Emma shook her head, “I thought they got attacked because they both peeked. You are not supposed to peek, if you do the fairy will take you away.”

Killian was silent just listening to them.

“I know but as descendants from the founding families it looks like they were selected that way. I don’t think it made a difference that they peeked. What matters is their bloodline. I don’t know what happened, but this thing has it out for the families.”

Emma pondered Belle’s words. “I think mom has somethings passed over from my great great great grandmother, diaries I think. Mom saved them because they are part of our heritage. Maybe there’s something there.

Belle smiled brightly, “As soon as you have something, you can take it to the library.”

Emma nodded, “Okay.”

Killian stared at his hands. “So it truly was my fault.”

Emma turned to him, confused, “What?”

He met her eyes. “My mum, if I would have let her take me, my mum would be alive, and maybe Liam would be too.”

Emma laughed, “Are you kidding me? To your mom it wouldn’t have been a choice. Your life for hers. She adored you, and "if she had it to do over again, she would choose you.” She smiled and reached out for his hands.

“It doesn’t matter, it's still my fault.”

She shook her head, “No, this is not your fault. Whoever angered this thing, that’s who is at fault.”

Leo arrived from the kitchen with a big smile. He had a big, chocolate smeared grin on his face as he put the plate of warm cookies on the table.

They ate a few of the delicious, gooey cookies in silence.

“Hey kid, do you mind keeping Belle company for a while? We need to go to the farm to pick up some stuff. It won’t take long. You know how organized mom is.” said Emma.

Leo just nodded his agreement. He liked Belle.

Killian leaned into Emma’s space, “We better hurry, if Belle is right about her deductions. When is the Founder’s Gala?”

“Tomorrow night. Do you really think she’s right?” Emma glanced at Leo worriedly.

“She seems like a smart lass. Imagine if someone has wronged you, would you be happy if that person was celebrated as a hero?” His eyebrows rose to his hairline.

Emma sighed "I get it. I just think it's crazy."

Killian smiled "What? That there's a vengeful ghost out there targeting the people you love?" His ears reddened. He meant Leo, but deep inside he hoped he was included. He hadn't been back that long, and now he was having a hard time seeing himself anywhere else.

“Alright let’s go. Come on, kid.” They shuffled out of the diner after paying for their meal.  They walked to the library, and Leo rushed inside.

“Don't worry lass," Killian encouraged her, "he will be okay. We will find a way to end this.”

They drove out to her parent’s farm just outside of town.

“So when did your parents move from the old house?” Killian asked.

Emma didn’t take her eyes off the road. “I think we moved a few years after your mom. The neighborhood didn’t feel the same. My dad always wanted a farm.” She shrugged.

“Do you not live with your parents?” Killian turned his full attention to her.

“Oh no, I don’t. Dad wasn’t happy about that. He claimed it made no sense since the farm is big enough. He said I wouldn’t lack privacy, but I enjoyed living on my own when I was in Boston. The loft is pretty cheap, I lucked out.”

They arrived at the Nolan Farm.

“Would you like a tour, Killian?”

“Not this time, let’s just find what we came for. Maybe another time you can show me around.”

“It shouldn’t take long, my mom is very organized.”

They got to the cellar and found a few old trunks. Each going through a trunk, they searched for the journals.

After an hour or so, Emma said, “Killian, I think I found something. Uh, this diary is from Eva right after the first Founder’s Gala. I tried to warn them but no one listened.” she muttered, “I knew Hester Blue wouldn’t be pleased.” Emma mumbled, “Oh here we go. My grandmother told me how Hester was killed unjustly. She loved the town kids, indulged them with sweets, and as a special treat when they lost their last baby tooth, she would give them a gold coin.” Emma looked up when she heard scuffling, and Killian sat next to her “the youngest Spencer and Midas went into the forest alone after they were told not to. They were missing for hours. The town quickly turned on Hester. She got blamed for the missing children.” Emma looked at Killian, “she was judged and executed by the town’s most powerful men. They buried her by a tree next to her home. Since her death, the forest hasn’t been the same.”  

“I believe this is it, Is there anything more?” Killian asked as he got up.

Emma flipped through the pages. “We can take it and read it carefully at the library.”

“Alright let’s get back to Belle and young Leo. I just hope there’s more of the location. Do you think her home is still out there?”

“We’ll find out.” Emma grabbed his hand and with her free hand held on to the diary.

They headed to the library to share with Belle the new information they had found and to see if they could find out more.

Once again Emma asked for Leo to spend the night, but they spent it with Killian. Leo felt safe with Killian.

~~~

In the shadows of the town, the vengeful spirit of Hester lurked. She hid in the dark corners. She had become angrier and restless after the child escaped her all those years ago. There was a new child to focus her ire on, but he too proved elusive.

[ashlan-zeal]

"Who says that dreams and nightmares are not as real as the here and now?"

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Ahsoka asked Ezra while they took to orbit. Her small ship had a cargo ID in rule and didn’t have any problems crossing the tight security of the several Imperial ships around Lothal.

“I… We were returning to the base. To Yavin,” Ezra explained staring blankly at the stars.

“Yavin, huh?” Ahsoka’s eyes lit up with interest. “We have prospected the area before but we were still thinking of our options. Most of the other cells refuse to work together.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Ezra remembered there hadn’t been any transmission from his part or… “Wait. What about Mon Mothma? Is she still alive?”

“Oh… She got captured a while back when she left the Senate,” Ahsoka bit her lower lip. That had been a morale blow for everyone. They hadn’t gotten to her on time. Ezra sunk on his seat. Something in the back of his mind told him that maybe if his parents hadn’t heard the transmission they might be still alive in prison, but Azadi was also missing and… he couldn’t sense them. Just like the Ghost crew… all he could feel was either a void or coldness. They had died. He closed his eyes as a few tears rolled down his cheeks, but he hurried to dry them.

“Just before returning to base, we had saved a few engineers and destroyed a huge kyber crystal. Gerrera wanted to-”

“Saw Gerrera?” Ahsoka frowned. “You were working with Saw Gerrera??” she said with disgust and anger.

“A couple of times… we didn’t part in the best terms,” he said a little nervous. “Why?”

Ashoka was scowling looking ahead. “We lost Lothal because of him.”

“What!?”

“After the Ghost Crew disappeared, no other group took their place… things went downhill pretty quick,” Ahsoka explained and took a deep breath. “When they opened that TIE fighter factory in Lothal... a lot of people didn’t have another option and started to work there. Then, it seems Gerrera caught wind they were doing some kind of secret project there and… he used a service droid to blow the fuel depot… on rush hour.”

Ezra’s jaw dropped. “How many dea-?”

“Several hundred workers died. Thousands were injured. He said that whoever was helping the Empire in any way deserved to go down with them. The people of Lothal lost all trust in the Rebels… Several sympathizers were arrested snitched by locals. They didn’t like the Empire but at least they wouldn’t blow their own, they said.”

A ball of anger started to grow on Ezra’s throat. That’s why they were contracting people instead of droids to do menial tasks at the port. He regretted not looking up further when he was back there.

“Gerrera was… not good… but we had managed to talk to him out of doing a bunch of stuff before,” Ezra said in low voice. “But yeah… he was certainly going on that direction”.

The travel through hyperspace to Garel was short. Surprisingly, Garel didn’t seem too different from what Ezra remembered from his early time here. Ahsoka took Ezra to present him to Sato as Jedi-in-training and left it at that. Seeing Sato was… a shock too. His eyes didn’t have that passion he used to have working for the Rebellion. He looked sad and somewhat bitter.

-Oh no...Mart.- Ezra thought. Mart must have been either killed or taken prisoner over Mykapo. -Dammit...the rest of my friends… Zare, his sister, Jai...- they were gone. Even if he was visibly upset he shook Sato’s hand and promised to do whatever it was possible to help them. Ahsoka and he obviously left out the issue of Ezra coming from another reality… no one else needed to know.

“If Ahsoka vouches for you, then I can’t turn you down. If you are going to stay here you will need some new ID and papers for Garel,” Sato said giving him a curious look. “Please, go to this address with our contact. Give her this code…”

Ezra went on his own, while Ahsoka and Sato discussed the state of Lothal, explaining what she had seen and the increased security. Ezra knew the streets in this city so he had no problem to find the house with the contact. He knocked once, then thrice, then once, just as he was told. The door opened a little and he could see a woman peering through.

“Yes?”

“I need help with a poem. I heard you are a good writer,” Ezra said the secret password too. These Rebels were really suspicious and paranoid, always looking over their shoulders, and he couldn’t blame them. The woman huffed and nodded.

“Fine, fine, I can help,” she said with some reluctance and opened the door. Ezra gasped recognizing her.

“Maketh Tua,” he whispered in disbelief. Tua’s face was washed with fear and pulled him inside quickly and looking outside worriedly hoping no one had heard him.

“Don’t go saying that in the open! I’m not Maketh Tua. My name is Rita Zante. Alright??” she pointed at him shaking with fear. “How do you know me? Have they put a hit on my head? Have you seen wanted posters or something?”

“Oh… no. I… I used to live in Lothal,” he tried to find the right explanation. “I lived in Lothal all my life until recently.”

“Ah… I see,” she straightened up regaining a little of her composure. “I see. Alright… that explains that. You almost killed me from the impression… just… don’t go saying my old name around. Ok, if you come for Lothal making your fake ID will be easier for me… just sit there.”

Ezra sat watching her go through some info on her datapad and comparing it to a stack of papers she had in a desk. Maketh Tua was alive here. She had not been killed when trying to defect when they were being chased by Vader. Ezra remembered Yoda’s words:

Your right, someone’s wrong might be.

If he made things ‘right’ it would mean Ahsoka, Sato and Tua would be gone. Who knows how many other people would be affected. He shook his head.

-Just focus on the problem at hand. Helping the Rebellion. I’m still too weak to do anything about it so there’s no point on worrying on...consequences.-

After an hour or so, Ezra had the best fake ID he’d ever seen. For all intents and purposes, he was now a citizen of Garel. He was also given a tiny private room in an apartment building instead of a shared one on their “base”. It was sad to see this Rebellion so far behind of his own. That night, in the privacy of his room, he cried silently, letting all his pain and sadness out. He knew he couldn’t keep it all in or it would lead him closer to the darkside. Holding at the pillow, he sobbed for his friends and he sobbed for Kanan. He cried for how alone he felt and how much he missed him. But he needed to keep going… even if it hurt. And with that, his new life with the Rebellion started from scratch.

During the following days, Ezra would make small ‘milk runs’, help with scouting, spying and all the normal things he could do without the aid of the Force. On the days Ahsoka returned from some secret meeting or mission they would train and meditate together. As soon as he finished his lightsaber (this time with a regular hilt but with his old blue crystal) he started sparring with Ahsoka seriously. Her training style was very different from Kanan’s, making much more aggressive and dangerous approaches. It was harder than what he remembered, or maybe he was just too far behind? She would push his physical and mental limits with the Force. In any case, Ahsoka was impressed. While his connection with the Force was slowly recovering, luckily, his memories for his fighting techniques were almost untouched.

His nights were restless and every day he would wake up feeling worried and alone. His heart ached, but all he could remember from his dreams was a thick darkness and a sense of hopelessness.

-No, I can’t give in. Kanan wouldn’t want me to...- and that gave him just enough warmth to keep going.

One day, Ezra had been tasked on delivering a package to a group on another city in Garel. He took a bike and headed out by himself. He didn’t expect any trouble… but he also never expected to get his life turned around more than already was.

He was driving down the highway, no other transport on sight, when he heard it. He pressed the brakes so fast he almost thrown ahead from the inertia. He looked around and up almost desperately until he saw it.

The Ghost flew overhead.

A chill ran down his spine. He was frozen in shock. Even though it was repainted, he could have recognized the sound of the engines anywhere, in this reality or back home. Then, after a second he accelerated chasing it. It was also heading towards the same city, but it was going much faster and quickly left him behind. He reached into the Force, trying to feel if he recognized who was flying it but it was a stranger. A ball of anger started to form on his stomach. Someone had taken the Ghost for themselves. He rushed through the gates of the city and the streets to the spaceport as fast as he could, but by the time he found the right landing pad, the ship was already leaving.

“NO!” Ezra cursed watching it go. He turned around and saw a bunch Troopers looking at him. They were moving some cargo around. Ezra became very still.

“Do you have a problem?” one of the troopers asked, suspicious of him.  

“Oh… sorry. I just… I just saw that ship and… I had never seen a VCX-100 modded like that. Wow! I mean, it was a  VCX-100 right? I wished I could see it more closely!” Ezra laughed nervously and looking sheepish.

“Yeah, a VCX-100,” the trooper wasn't totally convinced. “You can’t stay here while we load our cargo to the transport. Now scram,” the trooper motioned him to get back.

“Yeah! Sorry! Sorry, sir!” Ezra turned around, his smile immediately disappearing from his face as soon as he was out of sight from them. He went to ask around the port about details on the Ghost, always under the pretense of being a fanatic of modded ships. He even used a few terms he had heard from Hera and Sabine to sound knowledgeable. All he learned was what he feared…

The Ghost, it seemed, was the propriety of the Empire right now. With some more coaxing, he also learned the ship used to make deliveries from Lothal and a few other systems to this port. They said it should be heading for Lothal right now.

Cursing in low voice he delivered the package he was meant to and went back to Ahsoka immediately. She had just left from a talk with Sato when he arrived to their ‘base’.

“We need to talk,” he didn’t even wait for a hello, pulling her aside. He explained everything that he saw and learned. “We need to get the Ghost back”

“Ezra…” she wasn't sure of his idea.

“No, no you don’t get it. If I remember correctly the Holocron AND Kanan’s lightsaber could be still there, hidden away in a secret compartment.”

“The holocron that you said had the coordinates to the Temple on Lothal?” Ahsoka blinked with worry.

“YES! Besides… I have seen what other ships this Rebel cell has in the fleet. They couldn’t hold a candle to the Ghost,” Ezra said with sadness. “Hera would never want the Ghost on Imperial hands. She would have wanted the Rebellion to use it for our cause.”

Ahsoka sighed and nodded. “You are right. Let’s get it back.”

They flew to Lothal that same day, wasting no time. They went into the city taking care to avoid the patrols and went to the edge of the Imperial base. They saw the Ghost on one of the landing pads.

“We can use it to flee. If any ship is capable of crossing the blockade while being chased, it's the Ghost,” Ezra said with resolution.

They both headed stealthily towards the ship… but midway, Ezra stopped in his place, a chill ran down his spine. The Force was trying to tell him something. Trying to catch his attention.

“Ezra?”

“I…” he blinked in confusion, unable to explain what he was feeling.

“HEY!” someone yelled behind him. A Storm Trooper had glimpsed them, attracting the attention of his peers and raised their blasters.

“Dammit!” Ezra barely had time to throw himself to the side to avoid being shot. Ahsoka also took cover, trying not to take her lightsabers out and reveal themselves as Jedi.

Somewhere inside the base, Kallus was tensely reporting to the Inquisitor, who had seemingly lost interest on their talk. Something had caught his attention, but with the mask on, Kallus couldn’t tell exactly what. He dared not to ask because from the moment the new Inquisitor had arrived on Lothal Kallus could feel a great hatred towards his persona from him. Kallus didn’t want to give this man any excuse to cut his head off. At that moment, his comm activated.

“SIR! We got intruders on the west landing port. It seems like they are trying to steal a VCX-100 freighter!”

Kallus blinked. He knew that ship. Before he could say anything, the Inquisitor raised from his seat, igniting his red lightsaber.

“I'll deal will them. Send all available troops to stall them,” the Inquisitor ordered him.

“What-?” Kallus started but the blade came suddenly dangerously close to his throat. He stiffened.

“Do it,” it was the last warning. Kallus felt a chill down his spine and pure hatred coming from the Inquisitor. If he did not comply, he would be killed right there.

“As you wish.”

Ezra was returning fire when he noticed the growing number of Troopers showing up between them and the Ghost… And then they saw a red glow coming out of the doors of the base from their right. An inquisitor was running towards them.

“We will have to fight,” Ahsoka took her lightsabers. “We need to get to the Ghost, NOW.”

“I'll handle the Inquisitor,” Ezra said suddenly realizing their situation.

“What?”

“I can't block all those blasters without better Force reflexes, you know that. My fighting technique is the best thing I have right now. I can hold the Inquisitor back while you clear off a path.”

She gritted her teeth. He was right.

“Don't get killed,” she nodded and stood in the open deflecting blast after blast towards the troopers, knocking them out.

Ezra needed to buy time and not get beheaded while doing it. Yes, his lightsaber technique was mostly intact... but not having his full Force proficiency back was going to be a problem as many of the forms required almost supernatural precision and timing to pull off.

“Stick to the basics. Mix it up,” he murmured under his breath. This wasn't an Inquisitor he had met before so he had no idea of his fighting style. He had a feeling of apprehension on his stomach as he ran towards the Inquisitor.

-Yeah, this is dangerous, but there is no other way!- he told himself trying to dismiss the emotion. Ezra went all out with an aggressive approach, combining Form 1 and Form 2, surprising the Inquisitor who immediately fell back to a defensive style. Ezra was glad. It seemed the Inquisitor had not expected someone like him to be able to bring that into a fight. This was risky, but Ezra was almost sure he would be able to go toe to toe with an Inquisitor of a similar level. He knew he needed to dictate the terms of the fight and not give him one moment of respite... and yet...

Something was wrong.

The more he fought, the more the feeling of apprehension grew on him. Now that he had a better connection with the Force he could feel the alarms in the back of his mind. He needed to stop. He needed to get away. The Inquisitor sensed his hesitation and countered back. Ezra had suddenly lost the upper hand on their duel. In a desperate risky move, Ezra blocked then swirled around, rising his lightsaber, vertically slashing off the mask from the Inquisitors face. The inquisitor had jumped back just in time avoiding getting his face slashed too.

The mask fell. The Inquisitor turned to Ezra ready for more. Ezra saw him and his eyes went wide with horror as his whole body reeled back on a state of shock.

NO. IT CAN'T BE.

Ahsoka felt his fear through the Force, making her look back with worry.

“Ezra?”

Ezra couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

It was Kanan. Short hair. Tattoo marks on his face. Bright yellow eyes… Ezra's lightsaber fell from his hand and he didn't even notice.

“I can feel your despair. The dread…” Kanan narrowed his eyes with an evil pleased smirk.

“EZRA!” Ahsoka’s scream urged him into action but it seemed so far away and he couldn't look back. He could only see and hear HIM, approaching with the red lightsaber.

“Kanan,” Ezra managed to say. His voice was trembling, his body barely holding up. The name made the Inquisitor stop in his tracks and frown, perhaps surprised to hear the name again.

“...Wrong. Tenth Brother,” he shook his head.

“...No…” tears started falling from Ezra's eyes. He felt the world around him collapsing, the core of his being cracking under despair.

“Strange. You are not afraid of dying. What is it then?” Kanan asked curiously but Ezra just looked at him helplessly. “No matter... it ends here.”

“Snap out of it!” Ahsoka yelled running to him and felt a surge in the Force just like that day in the tower.

“NO!” Ezra cried out just as Kanan raised the lightsaber to strike him. Ezra released a huge Force push sending Kanan flying back in surprise. Ezra collapsed in the floor like last time but Ahsoka was there the next second.

“Stand up! We're leaving!” she picked his lightsaber and grabbed him by the wrist pulling him up. She had finished with the troopers blocking them from the Ghost but soon more would follow.

“No... Kanan!” Ezra weakly resisted.

“I can't fight him and defend you at the same time!”

“Kanan!” he was out of himself but Ahsoka was stronger.

“Move!”

“I have to-” he pleaded.

“He's an inquisitor now!” she was almost dragging him away.

“NO!” he cried out in despair, just as he caught glimpse of Kanan standing up with murderous hatred in his eyes. And that sight made something inside Ezra break and he let himself be guided into the Ghost without another word.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15618783

[movienotesbyzawmer]

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

May 4: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

(previous notes: Star Wars: The Last Jedi)

Source: UK 3D Blu-ray

I saw this at pretty much the very first available showing, and haven't watched it since. But since I had the other Disney-era ones in 3D, and I still have the capability to watch 3D movies at home, I decided to complete my Blu-ray collection by ordering the British 3D Blu-ray, like I'd done with The Last Jedi. So now I'm going to see it at home for the first time, in 3D for the first time, and take notes like I've been doing.

My reaction when I saw this on opening night was that it was a lot of fun. I didn't think it was as good as The Last Jedi. Overall it feels like a trilogy where the first priority was to avoid the mistakes of the prequels, and the second priority was to have them be fun movies. Mission accomplished, but the actual story of this trilogy is only marginally satisfying. But I left that opening night screening excited about all the neat things I'd witnessed. And now I shall press play and do some re-witnessing…

Emperor Palpatine, the opening crawl tells us. He wasn't someone we were expecting to be part of the plot of this movie, was it?

First scene after the opening shot is a slow-mo land battle, visually different from Star Wars movies in general. Dude kills 100% of everyone then plucks a mysterious relic from a mysterious relic. He's on a Tomb-raider-y treasure hunt.

It takes him to a Tomb Raider-y lair… and there are creatures in green liquid ahhh!

"…some consider to be… UNNATURAL", that line from Episode III. Very love it. Good reference.

The image of all those Star Destroyers is super super super cool.

And now after a calculated bit of lightness in the Millennium Falcon, the good guys arrive at a super neat looking planet thing. Not even ten minutes in and we've seen three inventive new planet environments.

And now a chase, "lightspeed skipping", and each skip is a cool space place, all different, one of them has a big monster! They are tuned into what's good about Star Wars movies, these Rise of Skywalker makers.

Also, Finn and Poe seem to have settled into their roles as funny supporting-character buddies. The first movie really seemed to be beginning a more dramatic arc for Finn, but it doesn't feel like that's happening any more.

0:15:36 - Rose Tico sighting! Her arc blunted as well. Be nice if she joined them on this mission they're about to leave on.

Really kind of surprising how much footage there is of Carrie Fisher, who died years before this came out.

Okay now we're back with Kylo Ren on this planet that's the equivalent of that orc-factory in Lord of the Rings. What's he doing? Collaborating with some ukky beings. Fixing his helmet. Hm.

Bit of humor in the conference room scene, again calculated.

Back to our heroes and they're on another neat new planet with color clouds & celebratory visuals, pleasant.

0:23:40 - Very cinematic Rey-Kylo cross-galaxy conversation, cool.

Lando saves them from stormtroopers, and is therefore given the honor of the "I've got a bad feeling about this" line.

0:28:00 Speeder chase in the desert, and the stormtrooper speeders launch them up and they fly! Cool!

Hah, there's a gag where Rey fires up her light saber and Poe tries to do that too but his is just a flashlight, cute.

Okay, here's this scene I like where there's a serpent monster in their Tomb Raider cave, and Ray figures out that the monster just needs to be force healed so she does it and it helps them. Sounds corny but I like it.

0:36:00 - we see the Ren gang on a plateau and here a new music theme. I'm not much noticing the new music themes in the Star Wars movies of the 2010s, but there's one.

This scene. The Kylo/Rey meeting in the desert. It was heavily teased in the trailer and it would have been more effective if we hadn't seen so much of it in the trailer. Also there's a who-can-magic-harder duel that ends up killing Chewy, except that we don't have to believe that very very long.

"Let's do that!" about wiping C-3POs memory, John Boyega's exceptional comic timing on display again.

0:45:40 - We're on this new planet now, which is so Poe can find the person that can do a memory wipe of 3-3PO, right? It's fast-paced, this movie.

"We sent out a call for help at the battle of Krait, nobody came" says Poe. Am I forgetting that drama from The Last Jedi? I know he's talking about that final battle from that movie, but I didn't remember a despairing "no one is coming", at least not like it was a huge, shocking letdown.

I like the little Babu creature but we don't get much of it, do we

Poe is all "did she do that to us" when he sees her Force-hypnotize the stormtroopers, haha

0:58:10 - Pretty unique shot, dollying backwards facing Poe & Finn shooting stormtroopers we can't see until they fall in front of the camera

"Your parents were no one… they CHOSE to be" here's where it starts to seem like this movie doesn't like where the last movie was going & made it be different. If this were an improv class the teacher would be like, "remember the principle of 'yes AND…'"

Okay, this bit coming up where General Hux saves them & says he's the spy. It's… funny? And dumb? Maybe? Sort of a tawdry end to this character in the trilogy maybe?

"You.. Are a Palpatine." Dun dun dunnnnnnn. Okay sure I guess. This isn't what I'm into Star Wars movies for; I wouldn't have had it be about this.

They get to the new planet and Rey figures out how to use the knife tool to find where to go, it's so like a Tomb Raider game that I feel like I'm reading a cheat guide on GameSpot

Now Finn is bonding with the girl on the planet who is also a stormtrooper deserter, makes that whole Finn subplot make more sense.

Rey swiped a cool watercraft to go to the wreck of the Death Star and I just want to point out once again that I like the vehicle design in Star Wars movies.

1:13:10 - overhead shot of said vehicle is the first notable example of something that looks good in 3D in this movie. I'm inclined to say you really shouldn't feel like you're missing out if you're seeing this in 2D.

She's in a vision cave on the wrecked Death Star. She fights HER OWN SELF for a second, and bad-Rey rawrs at her in a way that reminds me of when Bilbo does that in the first Lord of the Rings movie. I liked it there and I like it here.

1:18:05 - First bit of my beloved "Han Solo and the Princess" theme, so lovely

Now Rey and Kylo are saber dueling all over this wreck with waves everywhere and it reminds me of the big climactic duel in Episode III where it seems like the duelers are going out of their way to duel in a cool looking place.

Everything gets all dramatic in a way that doesn't really get explained - Leia very deliberately says "Ben", then dies, but it affects Kylo allowing Rey to kill him, but then she un-kills him with Force magic because "I did want to take your hand" and then bounces. And it's not over with this kind of thing, because Kylo has a not-really-real conversation with his played-by-OMG-Harrison-Ford father, and he symbolically hurls his awesome saber away. So where are we now? We're in some drama, that's where. I miss cool vehicles and inventive creature design!

1:27:45 - Modded-up Star Destroyer emerges from lightspeed and it's another cool 3D effect.

And then it blows up the planet where Poe's ex-girlfriend was and it looks cool, but we could have used her to be around more. Wait, does she not-be-dead later or something? Probably.

Okay, very corny sequence happening now, it's the pep talk between Rey and ghost-Luke, it ends with a smirking Luke raising up an X-wing like he couldn't do in Empire Strikes Back, so I guess that plot point is tidied up.

Okay, we got past that drama and now there's a very simple Saint-Crispin's-Day speech riling up the troops so they can go to that mystery planet for the final battle, and interest level has picked up.

1:41:28 - Hey a shot of Rey going through a wall gap is a reference to the earlier cool-in-3D shot of the watercraft & the Death Star wreck.

And here's something that internet assholes picked on - they ride horse-things on the Star Destroyers. Lighten up comrades, maybe this just isn't your kind of space adventure movie.

Rey gets in the mystery-edifice and holy hell it's creepy! There's an audience of thousands of cultists in black stone bleacher seats, chanting in perfect unison! It's downright Kubrick-y!

They really had fun with the lighting in the Palpatine room. Also, there are red stormtroopers on the Star Destroyers and aren't they pretty.

Palpatine is trying to convince Rey that she should embrace hatred and hill him and rule the galaxy in ritual hatred with a chanting congregation of hooded dipshits. Will it work? He does have a very compelling speaking voice. But here comes Kylo! He has had a change of heart or something!

"The life force in your bond," he narrates, and then bad-magics them super hard!  We never could have anticipated that evil force spells could thwart their plans.

1:54:20 - very satisfying shot of a giant fleet of good guys coming to save the day. They hit us with the idea of no one coming to save them, and just like when Han Solo swooped in in the first movie, it feels good that this time someone else did show up. And yes it includes Poe's girlfriend and that charismatic little varmint!

Super cool to see Star Destroyers get blown up.

Also cool when Palpatine super-zaps lots of good guy spaceships. Sound is neat on that also. This intense visual/aural experience is what I was thinking about for a while after first seeing this movie.

Rey beats Palpatine by having that surprise second light saber. Whatever, this is a super cool looking scene with all the bad guys in that chamber getting wasted.

Other cool battle climax imagery happens up in the sky, even though it's kind of hard to see what exactly physically happened to save Finn and those guys on the crashing Star Destroyer.

Kylo… what??? Didn't die when he just disappeared into a crevasse??? Quel surprise! He's super-reformed now and heals Rey up with his tender love for her. They kiss, their carnal desires overtaking them, they are high on the most ethical lust the galaxy has ever known! And he dies and disappears, but is visibly satisfied. I feel okay mocking this because I suspect no one likes it. And then it moves on to really cool aftermath visuals that are crazy fun to watch. They are experiencing the great victory in other planets from the other movies, and to the tune of John Williams themes from movies past.

Maz presents Chewy with a special medal, am I supposed to know what that's about? They're giving it major gravity.

So the movie, the trilogy, and the Skywalker Saga ends with a scene of Rey returning to Tatooine to bury the two important light sabers, but also whip out another one she had, and then tell a townie that she's named Rey SKYWALKER, and the final moment is of her gazing at the two suns with the Binary Sunset theme playing us out. What I like about that is that it sends the message that that moment from the original Star Wars, elevated to greatness largely by John Williams stirring theme, is the pinnacle of cinematic experiences that were brought to us by this series.

I like this movie less than any of the Disney-era movies for sure, and I think after watching it a second time, it lacks some specialness that could have allowed it to hold up better against the best Star Wars movies. But I wouldn't say it's bad, and I certainly wouldn't advise against seeing it.

[crazy4malex]

A Family Affair

A Family Affair

Summary:

Michael introduces Alex as his lover to his family. Alex just get a “little” drunk

Notes:

This was inspired by drabble prompt 125 "Quit moving, I'm trying to sleep. Wait...are you...what?!"

I

"Ahhh, Alex, don't you think you should slow it down a little?" Michael's eyebrows rose as Alex slammed down his 3rd shot and waved to Maria for another one with a look and 4 fingers raised.

"You want one? I can order you one. You've only had one." Alex looked perplexed, just realizing this fact.

"I thought we would wait to get shit faced after Max and Iz got here." Michael stated calmly and with raised eyebrows.

"They're going to hate me." Alex said already a little tipsy.

"No they're not. Is that what you're worried about?" Michael asked with a frown.

"Yep!" Alex said and the "p" at the end of "yep" made a popping sound. "And they will hate you when they find out you told me about the three of you." Alex whispered.

"Well...that they might. But tough. I don't believe in keeping that large of a secret from the person you want to spend the rest of your life with like Iz did. Max and I were wrong to make that promise with her years ago, but since then only Iz has been able to do that. Neither Max nor I have."

"She's going to hate me and kill you." Alex mumbled into his next shot that Maria set down in front of him.

"Who died?" Maria asked, having watched Alex get shit faced across the room.

"Michael. I'm morning ahead of time." Alex answered and started to take his next shot.

Michael snagged it out of Alex's hand and put it down near him. "I'm not going to die okay?"

"Why are you two drinking together all of a sudden? And, Michael, you usually drink plenty and, Alex, you barely drink when you come in here. So what's up? Maria asked with a confused expression.

"Maria," Alex turned to look up at her. "Michael is mine."

Michael winced and closed his eyes for a second and then looked up at Maria's astonished face.

"Wait, since when?" she asked still looking confused. Alex had just been in here alone just last week and Michael had been at his own seat at the end of the bar, and neither had looked at each other.

"He's been mine for forever." Alex stated not realizing Maria was having trouble processing all of this.

"Forev....oh my God! Alex, is Michael "museum guy?!" she exclaimed with a gleam in her eyes now.

"Yep." Alex said again with the same pop and a bright smile on his face at being able to say who he we in love with now.

"Alex, I'm so happy for you! And, Guerin, if you want to live, you take care of him and don't cause him to drink like this anymore." she warned.

"See, you are gonna die either way." Alex said and when Michael looked up at Maria to argue with her, Alex snatched the shot glass away from Michael and slammed it back. "Definitely gonna die by someone tonight." Alex finished.

"I'm not making him drink, Maria, this is his idea. Hey!" he looked over at Alex as he shot down the drink he'd confiscated a few minutes ago.

"See! Your fault, Museum Guy!" Maria accused.

"And what the hell is "Museum Guy?" " Michael asked in frustration.

"Oh...well that's easy. Remember in high school, our first kiss and where it was? Well I only told Maria my best kiss was with a guy in the UFO museum, hence "Museum guy!""

"Museum Guy!" Maria and Alex said at the same time.

"What the hell is "Museum Guy?"" Isobel said coming up behind them and taking a seat as Max took the one that was left.

"Nothing." Michael and Maria exclaimed quickly.

"The first guy I ever kissed it was in the UFO museum where I worked." Alex blurted out very calmly.

"Okay!" Maria said to change the subject. "Max, Isobel, what would you like to drink? Michael another one?" She asked in server mod now.

After they placed their orders and Maria had gone back to the bar, Isobel turned to Michael and asked. "So, why are we here tonight, Michael, and why is Alex here?

"We're gonna die, definitely gonna die." Alex murmured again.

Michael reached down under the table and took Alex's hand.

"I wanted you guys to meet the man I'm in love with and will be spending the rest of my life with." Michael said calmly.

"What!?" Max exclaimed.

"You What?! Alex?!" Isobel got out.

"Here we go. Now it happens" Alex closed his eyes.

Michael took control.

"Would you stop with the dying bit Alex, and yes Isobel and Max, Alex is who I fell in love with and am going to commit to like you and Noah, Isobel."

"Well...well..." Isobel couldn't think of anything to say to that.

"By why Alex, I mean when? You've been by yourself forever, when did this happen?" she asked when she thought what to say.

"He's loved Alex since we were kids." Max stated quietly, getting everyone's attention.

"How did you know?" Michael asked in surprise.

"I saw how you two looked at each other. And other little things."

"Hi guys. How are you tonight." Alex smiled and waved.

Both Max and Isobel looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Ah yeah, we're past that now Alex." Michael reminded Alex who reached for his next drink when Maria came back and dropped off their orders.

"Hey! I didn't order a beer I ordered a shot!" Alex explained.

"I know but you've had enough for tonight. Take the beer Manes and like it." Maria said hand on her hip that wasn't holding the serving tray.

"So bossy." Alex complained but sipped the beer. But upon seeing Isobel staring at him, he took a gulp.

"So, is this a celebration or something?" Isobel asked still looking at Alex.

"Yeah. Alex and I have reunited and are a couple and I thought my family would like to know first." Michael make clear.

"So, Alex huh? Have you seen much of your father lately?" Isobel said but stared daggers at Michael.

"Relax, Alex won't be running to monster sergeant Manes anytime soon." Michael told them in a warning voice.

"And why is that?" Isobel asked.

"Sergeant Manes hates the sight of me." Alex explained quietly.

"And Alex knows to keep quiet about everything."

"Oh God." Alex whispered and took another big gulp of beer.

"Everything?" Isobel asked emphasizing the word and looking dangerously at Michael.

"Michael, did you say something to Alex?"

"Yep. He told me and now Isobel can kill us so get it over with." Alex said quickly.

"Michael, maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else." Max looked around and then stared at Michael in disbelief.

"Nah, he wanted to meet here so that you couldn't kill us before we had our last drink." Alex told them, now so drunk he didn't care. He and Michael loved each other and had told each other so that was good enough for Alex.

"And I won't say anything. In fact, I think I can help." Alex smiled happily just realizing that.

"Okay that's it. We're leaving. We'll talk more later. I just wanted to let you know Alex and I are serious and will be without secrets. He's going to be a big part of my life now and I'm not shutting him out." And with that Michael led Alex out.

"We're not done yet Michael!" Isobel called out.

"Well that went well." Alex stated happily as Michael helped him up into his truck.

Alex was quiet for awhile as they drove back to their cabin. They had decided to move in together and were as committed as any other loving couple.

"I don't think they believe that we're serious Michael." Alex said quietly.

"What? Why do you think that?" Michael was surprised.

"They don't see us as committed as Isobel and Noah. Same for Max when he has a girlfriend and they move in. You can't blame them Michael. They're going to be really upset knowing you told me like when Max told Liz." Alex explained calmly.

"Yeah but we're together for good. Max and Liz don't even have a relationship!"

"Still." and with his hand in Michael's yawned and fell asleep.

Michael was alone with his thoughts for the rest of the ride home.

When he pulled into the driveway of the cabin, Michael decided not to wake Alex and just carried him to bed.

Later that night Alex was awakened to a lot of movement.

"Quit moving, I'm trying to sleep. Wait...are you...what?!" Alex asked incredulous.

The light had gone on and Michael was kneeling on the floor next to Alex with a ring held out to him.

"Will you marry me Alex."

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me I give myself self-indulgent requests according to this marvelous card!

Ya hipster back with his niche fandoms again, hell yeah. (The mods at BHTB must be tired of my bs, really). Not gonna lie, I went all out on this one, it’s like 4K-word long tf?? I guess exams have just been making all my insp flood in one swoop lmao.

Bullet Time

Summary: A shooting that shouldn't have happened. A bullet which hit the wrong person. Friends getting scared, a nurse crying. Blood pouring in droplets on everything it touches. In the midst of it all: Angie, her feelings and what could be her biggest sin. Perhaps she did kill a man today.

Fandom: Trauma Center Ships: Derek/Angie, implied Greg/Cybil

Wordcount: 4.4K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

Drip, drip, drip.

Standing there was a nurse, frozen, when everything unfolded right before her eyes. Her body, whose reflexes were usually as sharp if not sharper than a brand-new high-end scalpel’s blade, had given up on her, refusing to move when she should have been able to do something. The moments right before repeated on loop in her mind, racing, the intense beating of her heart resonating from the top of her skull to the ends of her toes.

 Drop by drop, blood fell to the ground, having poured in a splash in a moment, then settled to just flow from its hole, gently, rapidly, drip drip drip. A part of it had tainted her uniform, making the colour go from a pastel, reassuring pink to a menacing crimson, hair dressed on her arms and legs. It continued dripping along in deafening metronome-like rhythm, drip drip drip, slowly making its way through her nerves, eating away at her sanity. Still paralyzed, she was unable to do anything about it, drip drip drip.

A red puddle was forming at the feet of the person in front of her, blue uniform left untouched from the back, drop by drop. Tears formed inside her eyes, threatening to exit as her sight blurred beyond recognition, preventing her from further hurting herself like that when she was still immobile and defenceless, as if the world was going to come for her throat next and that she’d be dead before she’d be able to realize that. Drip, drip, drip.

 This someone in front of her, the shield with his arms stretched in front of her like the statue of a protective deity of an old city, gagged, desperate for air. He dropped to his knees, more blood pouring on the ground in raspy coughing fits, making her face the muzzle of Nemesis staring at her eyes with fury burning inside their irises and reddened sclerae. A shiver went down her back, making her tremble in either anticipation or rage, her legs tensed and her arms finally moving, fingers operational, waiting for the next move she’d decide to make.

 In the desperation of a situation gone out of her control, in the back alley, stood a young woman who happened to be a nurse with more than a simple licence. As if the sound of her colleague gagging had made her break out of her trance, she made her first real move, sidestepping in a hope, using the darkness to her advantage, grabbing the man with the gun from behind and making him fall to the ground in a single swoop.

The weapon fell in a metallic click on the strangled sidewalk, letting go of its other bullet, piercing the nightly air and flying to the sky at an unbelievable speed. She had seen bullets before, she wasn’t scared anymore. The man was unconscious, maybe dead, but that was beyond her care or attention. For the first real time in her life, it felt like a death that’d have been deserved and, even if it made her a murderer, then she’d be a justified one. There was no mercy for those who brought death upon innocent lives.

 In a swift move of her right hand, she typed a very familiar three-unit phone number, fingers moving almost on their own. Her voice, her words, her gestures were all automatisms: she barely listened to what the other people told her unless it was vital information, a way to estimate how messed up the situation really was. Her own former colleagues felt like they were all robots she was speaking to because she was behaving like one, like a machine not to collapse under the weight of her own anxiety flaring in her chest, the incessant beating of her pounding heart and the fears she was overcome with. The voices were familiar and foreign all the same, a hiccup escaped her lips, and the phone almost slipped out of her hands as she fell to her knees.

 The tears exited her eyes, rolled onto her cheeks, fell to the ground.

Drip, drip, drip.

  It was a calm evening at Hope Hospital, glad to see there barely were any activity in the emergency department on that night. Desert corridors, nurses going home or arriving for the nightly shift, goodbyes and hellos, good nights and good evenings exchanged. A serenity out of the ordinary which, truly, should have made him much more alert because, as it stood, every calm has a storm following it.

Truth be told, Greg wanted to go home, especially when the shift he shared with Cybil was nearing its end. Did he arrange their shifts to match out of pure personal pleasure and medical efficiency? Yes. Did he regret it, even as he glanced at the clock either for it to turn to midnight or for something to jump at them? No. Perhaps he was as infatuated in his anaesthetist as his latest, former student was in his nurse the last time he saw the two of them around.

 As such, Cybil and he were simply enjoying a nice conversation on how life was, allowing himself to disclose a few embarrassing childhood stories about Sidney to someone who had worked with his brother before at Caduceus. It felt nice to have a breath of fresh air, once in a while, so he avoided glancing at the clock or his watch too much and profited from the tranquillity surrounding them, hoping to maybe tell Cybil how pretty she was again and how much he enjoyed talking to her and… Yeah. Definitely infatuated, the diagnosis was obvious enough.

Cybil didn’t seem like she was too upset about the calm either. The stories about the day where Sidney, the Sidney Kasal who always said he’d never lose a fight because he had never lost any argument in his life from the crib to obtaining his high-ranked chair at Caduceus USA, messed up on something and was panicked about what their parents would say made her smirk, then laughed, until they were unable to stop giggling like little mischievous kids around the cherished coffee table of their staff room.

 The storm soon enough came back, though, as it always did in the life of head surgeon Greg Kasal.

 Amanda Marsh, their latest recruit whom had joined them after Angie Thompson’s departure for Caduceus, burst the door of the staff room open, eyes gone wide, beads of sweat on her forehead and temples, limbs trembling. This didn’t immediately faze either specialist: young nurses usually were easy to impress, even Angie had been overwhelmed when she had had a patient flatline on her before. However, this meant going back to work soon, so he got up from his chair to face her.

“Dr Kasal, Dr Myers, we… We have a patient in!!” she yelled, on top of her lungs, despite being otherwise breathless (or so it seemed, he supposed).

Greg and Cybil exchanged glances, before looking back at her.

“We’ll get ready, bring us to them, okay?”

 Amanda nodded and the three of them left for the emergency wing of the hospital. Storms had different sizes, from the small whirlwind to the ferocious typhoon nobody escaped from on its tracks. Secretly, considering this was the end of the shift and that the length of the day was starting to take a slightly toll on him, Greg quietly hoped this would be one of the smaller storms, that it’d be an easy job he couldn’t mess up. Was this asking too much from a world where GUILT had been eradicated?

Yes.

 “Here’s the chart, Dr Kasal! Please make it quick, the patient is in a critical condition!” she gave him the papers he needed before running away into the operating room.

“I’ll join her,” Cybil told him as she had gotten her scrubs on. “You study that, I’m going to make them sleep.”

“Got it, I’m on my way.”

 The chart on a chair as he prepped himself for the last surgery of the day, the one before his workmate came for the shift, he quickly read through it. The patient was a twenty-seven-year-old man, relatively tall and slim, otherwise with no specific condition. He had taken a bullet to the left lung, possibly having a rib or two damaged from it entered his body, where it had stayed. He finished getting ready when the topic of heavy blood loss and internal haemorrhage came on, prompting him to operate as soon as possible.

 Once in the operating room, the grimmer face of Cybil and Amanda’s nervousness didn’t make it any easier to convince himself this was going to be an easy end of the day, despite how simplistic removing a bullet was compared to treating GUILT. An IV was inserted into the patient’s wrist, monitored by the nurse, vitals displayed on a screen at 40. Not good, of course, but nothing he couldn’t fix. He kept his cool and put the chart away.

“Amanda, I’ll need you to keep an eye on the vitals along with his pulse, pressure and blood levels. Cybil, you know what you have to do. Let’s save him, I know we can do this.”

 Greg, as self-assured as ever, picked up his scalpel and gel before, out of habit and maybe tradition, was about to look at the patient’s face to mentally tell them to hang on, that it was going to be alright and that they’d soon be out of trouble when he remembered something. He’d fix it quicker than the bullet damaged the lung tissue, but before, he had to ask something to be done.

“Cybil, turn his head on his side, he may cough up blood as we proceed.”

He watched as she did so, silently. Before their eyes could connect again, however, Greg realized who he was dealing with, tools almost slipping out of fingers. The metal touching the floor was never heard, but the tension grew into white noise.

“Oh, God, not you of all people…” escaped from his lips.

Amanda seemed confused, but her inquiries for a reply weren’t met by either specialist in the OR.

 He’d have the check the name on the charts before operating, next time. He was ready to deal with a bullet removal, but the patient turned out to be a rotten surprise. Yet, remembered what he had told Derek when he had himself been infected with Tetarti, he breathed in, breathed out and mentally slapped himself. Never let your friendship slow down your surgical skills. Never let your personal feelings hinder your performances. Never let yourself get emotional when you’re needed in the OR.

Dr Kasal would save this young man; he swore to himself as he disinfected the body for a thoracotomy. He’d never lose a patient, ever. Not like this, not in these circumstances.

  The ER’s waiting room was empty at this hour of the night, making Angie desperate for a distraction as she waited for something, anything to be announced, to happen. She had never been very patient when she was unable to help, to be active and proactive and change the world one gesture at a time. Reduced to the role of the concerned relative, friend or loved one, she didn’t feel right to be there when she had the knowledge and skills to do something about it.

Instead, all she had to look at was her phone whose battery was dwindling down faster than the time went by and her hands, her bloodied hands she hadn’t taken the time to wash before coming here and sitting in this room. She could only hope the good Dr Kasal was the one operating, the safest hands she could think of in this hospital, perhaps in this city to deal with this when Caduceus would have been too far away.

 She needed to be moving if she didn’t want to go insane, so she got up and decided to head for the restrooms. She’d be able to wash her hands covered in dried dark red, turning to brown the more time passed, a reminder that her clothes were bloodstained and that she’d never feel clean again after going through this, after watching this unfold before her eyes. She’d physically be cleansed, but it’d be a whole other story mentally.

As she rubbed the red away from her hands with force and what she had left of her vigour, Angie looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes reddened by all the crying, her body was still trembling, she looked like a maniac who had just killed a man and was getting away with it despite her intentions.

Thing was, she had killed a man.

 They were walking in an alley to retrieve a parcel Angie had missed by having to go to work earlier than usual to make up for Sienna having the flu when she heard a somewhat familiar sound: that of a firearm getting readied to shoot. Instantly, she turned around while Derek, not having the sharper attention she had to tiny noises, didn’t for a few moments, only to be faced by a man and his gun pointed directly at her.

“We were just trying to fix humankind,” he said in that monotonous voice of the people whose anger has confused them so much that they’re only empty shells of who they used to be, “why did you stop us?”

“Put that weapon away immediately!”

“Why should I? You’re guilty as charged, Dr Stiles, Nurse Thompson.”

 As Angie walked through the familiar corridors of Hope Hospital again, bittersweet memories came back to her. She thought of her former colleagues, how much she’d have hoped to cross either Dr Kasal or Dr Myers and ask them how their relationship had been doing, how badly she wanted to hug someone and cry on their shoulder because she was scared, if not terrified, if not shaking with worry. She should’ve been reassured to be there, but clearly, she was the complete opposite.

 The trigger was pulled before she could do anything about it, her speech interrupted before it could even get out of her mouth. She was tempted to close her eyes and let the bullet heading towards her take her life, “let me kill the lady first so she doesn’t have to witness your demise, Sinner Stiles,” but even her eyelids stood frozen as the shot was fired.

Little did she know Derek was rushing to her at an unnatural but known speed, shoving her out of the bullet’s way, only discovering the deed had been done when she was on the ground, palms and knees hurting from the brutal fall, and red flashing before her eyes and onto her clothes.

 In the end, Angie came back to the waiting room, pacing because sitting truly made her inactive, passive, useless. She wasn’t a waste, she wasn’t going to let herself waste away when perhaps, just perhaps, Derek needed her sooner or later. The tears were about to fall again as the events once again repeated in her mind, tearing apart her defences, showing herself she was far more vulnerable and weaker than she wanted herself to be, than she displayed herself to be to others.

 She couldn’t be able to describe what she felt like when she jumped on the guy, disarmed him with a slap on the wrist and threw him to the ground. There was anger, of course, deep-rooted anger which had blazed through the different stages of intensity to become an unstoppable, unsatisfied want to see him disappear in suffering before her eyes, a desire to see him burn in Hell until the end of eternity, the wish to give justice to her dearest friend. Yet, there was something else, lingering somewhere, hindering at her need to destroy and pulverize until nothing was left of the murder attempt: sadness, concern, guilt.

Was she at fault for Derek getting shot in her stead? Yes. No. Maybe. Yes, but no, but yes, but no… The cycle of guilt looped endlessly because she didn’t understand his decision. She was too heartbroken to rationally think about said decision.

 She pulled out her phone, its battery in its last quarter. She had no charger on her, nothing to distract herself anymore, as if she could physically bring herself not to think of the situation. She was the reason why events had taken such a drastic, tragic turn: if she had been in control, if she had reacted properly and quickly enough, if she had been the heroine she had always wanted to be and become, she’d have stopped the dude before it was too late, before anyone got injured, before anyone risked losing their lives to stupid hatred and misplaced ideologies.

 Angie, despite her distressed state, cradled him in her arms, the other man unconscious and laying there with no clear sign of being alive or dead. Everything about Derek screamed vulnerability: his pulse was weak, his breathing was feeble, his eyes couldn’t properly focus on her. She could tell he was trying to reassure her, but every time he spoke, he coughed up blood, and every time he tried holding her hand to show her he was going to be fine, he squeezed his eyes in pain.

Her reflexes weren’t lost in the panic of the situation, much to her relief. Pressing a hand against the wound to apply pressure to what must have been both an internal and external haemorrhage, she made sure to see if he was still conscious, if he could still reply properly and react to his environment. Time was slow, its course confusing, and she cursed herself for not having first-aid material on her when she had barebone training in it.

 Eventually, exhausted by her tears and her fears, Angie sat down on a chair, never to move from it again. Even if she had cried over and over again in the last hour or so, she still wanted to weep like a child, to call a friend and vent to them about how scared she was of the future, of his future, of how much she messed up on that one. What an idiot she was! And yet, and yet…And yet, Derek had done his best to reassure her, as if she wasn’t the reason why he had gotten shot…

 She was a mess, lost in the tempest of emotions, unable to muster up enough courage to look strong and cool-headed. Instead, she was… absolutely useless to Derek, whose use of the Healing Touch had weakened to begin with. She should have been comforting him, but instead…

“H-hey, Angie… Don’t cry…”

He was the one trying to make her feel better, despite her mistakes, despite his condition going downhill faster than it had unfolded.

“B-but… You got shot, Derek! I… I’m so sorry!!”

He put a weak, febrile hand on her shoulder, drenched in his blood and printing onto her dress.

“I’ll be fine, I… I’m sure of it… Please, don’t cry…”

His voice was hoarse, struggling to speak out as he coughed up a bit more blood mixed with what she could assume was saliva. Sitting against a wall, face to face with her, she felt like she needed to protect him, but had already failed to do so…

“I… Ha!”

 She yelped when she saw his already faint grasp on her shoulder weaken even more and his eyes, already half-shut in pain and exhaustion, close further. She was losing him. As long as he was awake, he was alive, but if he passed out, he could pass away and she’d be too sorrowful to notice it and apply the few reanimation techniques she knew. She couldn’t lose him, not even let him faint on her.

“Derek, please, stay with me!” Her voice hiccupped with yet another wave of sobs. “Help is coming, please, just… Stay awake!”

Too late: he probably wasn’t hearing her anymore. His eyes closed soon afterwards, leaving her alone with the silence, her tears and a breathing so weak it could vanish for a yes or a no.

“I… I’m sorry…”

 …all she could do was wait and hope that Derek would have the strength and will to pull through it; so she slumped her shoulders and closed her eyes. There was no use in getting panicked…

 “…Angela Thompson?”

An unfamiliar voice got her out of her thoughts, causing her to jump on her chair. Facing her was a young woman around her age, whom she didn’t recall ever seeing before, presumably her substitute.

“Yes?”

Then she realized what it meant. The lack of an expression she could decipher on the nurse, presumably stuck in anxieties, scared her beyond what she could even express with words and medical terminology.

“How’s Derek?!”

  …

Everything felt… numb. Drowned sounds, muffled visuals, numbed sense of touch. Where was he? The ceiling, white, was no indication. It was blurry, everything was a blur actually, and his mind was completely blanking out. What had happened? What did he do last? Did it explain why he was there, where he was, how he had gotten there?

Did he ever wake up this confused, or was it one of these cases where he had passed out and didn’t realize it?

 His whole body was made out of the heaviest metal, limbs unresponsive and heavy, eyes half-opened and whose lids were made out of titanium. He didn’t have his glasses on, he was sure of it: otherwise, his vision would have focused much earlier than that and left him waiting for far less time. Instead, heh… Where were his glasses, actually? Were they gone, were they near, did he still have a sense of space or dimension?

He looked around, as his neck was the first place of his body to remember how to function properly. More blur, obviously, but he could vaguely distinguish a few things, including the presence of someone to his right and a red square… thing to his left. Safe to assume he was in a bed and that someone was sitting in a chair next to said bed, so he was in a hospital.

Wait, hospital?!

 It came back to him in a flash. The former Delphi member, the gun, using his gift to push Angie out of the way, the pain, the blood, and her tears. Everything came back, albeit these memories were still rendered imprecise and vague by the fact he had passed out and had just woken up. Goddammit… He had survived that, though, he was sure he was a goner and that he’d never get the occasion to tell Angie goodbye.

Not that he had wanted to do that on purpose. It was just a need he felt, to say her farewell before joining back his father. Alas, fortunately, Dad would have to wait: he had survived one more day, one more day and so much more lives he could save with these hands of his… soon enough.

 A very welcome voice came to his ears

“Searching for these, Derek?”

His glasses magically appeared on his face, gently, without forcing themselves. Only a couple of people could have the delicateness needed to do so… and even then, it was a bit surprising.

“Angie…?”

His voice sounded as well as he looked and felt like, which meant terrible and cottony. Not exactly how he wanted to show up after getting close to death yet again.

“That’s me, Dr Stiles. How you’re feeling?”

“Huh… Had better days for sure…”

 Now that his vision was clear, he took the time to look at her, to indulge in looking at her again to be exact. She was smiling, as beautiful as ever, even if he could somewhat tell she had been crying (well, he knew that, so it made this observation easier to make). He wished he hadn’t made her get so concerned, from him he’d assume, but alas… It was too late to go back on that. What had been done, was done. No need to dwell on the past, despite the regrets…

“You scared us so much, you can’t even imagine!” She began by scolding him and, if his chest didn’t feel so sore, maybe he’d have laughed it off as usual. He was used to it, it was almost a daily thing for them. Friendly banter, in a way.

“Ha… Sorry for that, I… I jumped in there…”

 Angie looked on the side, cheeks reddened. She muffled a hiccup.

“Why… Why did you do that, Derek? I, I mean, I’m grateful, but… That was stupid and you know it!”

He couldn’t exactly blame her for being upset about what had happened in the alley. He hadn’t explained himself very clearly when he was too busy keeping his airways free.

“I… saw that it was heading for your heart… You wouldn’t have survived that, so… I thought… It’d be better if I took it because I wasn’t going to immediately die from it…”

He attempted to smile to her, to reassure her again (too late, Derek, you dumbass).

“So, in all… I say it was worth it. I wouldn’t have stood losing you to that guy…”

She looked speechless, for once. All she did in response to his words, his poorly-chosen but true words, was to squeeze his hand.

“Me… Me neither, so… Never do that again okay?”

“Not a chance…”

 He allowed himself a light laugh.

“As a surgeon, I outta now… What are my injuries, Ms Thompson…?”

Angie looked utterly baffled at this, if not offended, but she still cleared her throat and, in the end, let a smirk show on her face.

“A bullet to the left lung, internal and external bleeding, a damaged rib. Don’t worry, it didn’t break, your lung isn’t punctured. And it better has stayed that way!”

“Agreed there… Would have been a pain… Literally so.”

“Do I need to consider you making terrible medical puns a good step towards your recovery, Derek?”

“Yes.”

 The silence settling in the room was light, almost soothing. Not that he didn’t want to tell her about all the things he had thought when he was sure he was going to meet his demise in a dark, dirty corner of Angeles Bay, quite the opposite in fact; he just was too tired to tell them.

They were both alive, that was what mattered, all that mattered. He’d have to thank his surgeon as soon as he’d see them, but that could wait. His professionalism could wait, he was sure Caduceus wouldn’t blame him for taking a day off, especially when his assistant nurse was so adamant in keeping him safe and watching over him. It’d be… all fine.

[jlpat82]

Not Our Home

Epilogue

The next couple of weeks were spent clearing the debris and the dead. We threw the food bricks in the furnace, never again will we cannibalize each other. Our numbers in total had been drastically reduced, our fight totaled our numbers in half. The last few members of swat turned themselves in, most relieved it was over. They had only been falling orders, and wished to start new lives and that they were given.

We toured the old elite side of the complex. They had large rooms dedicated to growing small crops, plants I have never seen. Green round leafy plants that you could eat, I was told it was lettuce but to me it just tasted like water. It was sight to behold, wonders I had never seen.

I had always thought growing up there were more of them, the elite, than us of the working class but in reality there wasn't. Their side of the complex was large and expansive but only contained half as many as ours. A lot of the their space was put aside for growing food, wether it be crops or some weird little creature called a chicken.

There had been no tubes or tunnels connecting to other places like ours. We had been a lone society in the middle of no where far removed from other people. It was an odd thought to think that we might be  what was the last of descendants of humanity.

Then came the day I had wanted all my life. I walked with Reaper up to one of the doors that led to the outside world. The place I had been dreaming of since I was child.

"Are you sure you want to, kid?" He asked, looking down at me with those beautiful honey eyes.

"More then anything." My voice raised in excitement.

"Then open the doors." He chuckled.

Tentatively I place my hands on the large bar and pushed down. I heard a click as it unlatched, I closed my eyes and braced myself. So many things raced through my head, wonder to fear of eminent death.

"Seriously Julianne, just push the door open!" My sister urged from behind us.

I gave the door a shove, warm wind kissed my bare skin as the sun was starting to set. I opened my eyes, looking out as the sand swirled against the ground. Slowly I started to step out, taking a deep breath in. I could smell the earth, the ground was warm and it felt weird, gritty and soft, beneath my bare feet. The wind made a whispering sound, it never occurred to me that the wind could make a noise.

I took a couple steps out, turning slowly in circle taking everything. In the distance was the old city, grey and distorted, hills of sand between us and it. My eyes landed on my sister, a huge smile was across her face she looked around in wonder. This is what the outside felt like. Openness in every direction, it felt free and I felt small.

"This is my world." Reaper finally spoke, wrapping his arms around from behind me. "There is reason being in those buildings is foreign to me. I have lived the last hundred years in this open vastness the walls close in and it makes it difficult to breathe for me."

"Julianne," My sister spoke up, I turned to look at her. "Do your lungs hurt?"

I could feel it, the slight burning sensation deep in my chest. The air seemed to become thick suddenly, my heart started to speed up. I looked up at Reaper as I started to take deeper heavier breaths trying pull in more oxygen, I saw a pained look sweep across his face.

"Let's get you back inside." He put his hand on my back guiding me back to the building. I was starting to get light head as we made the short trek back into the building. I was gasping as we shut the door, my chest heaved painfully with each intake.

"How can be toxic?" My eyes connected with Reaper's.

"It's not." Preacher replied, rubbing my sisters back as she doubled over breathing as hard as I was.

"Then why?" I stammered.

"You're not used to it." Reaper replied for him. "I've lived out there so long, my body is used to it and I differ from you."

"You didn't have any problems?" Sasha questioned Preacher.

"Mod.." He started before being cut off.

"If you even say modified so help me, Lucas." She barked back him. I glanced the door, my dreams had just come crashing down around me. I couldn't enjoy the one thing I had hoped for, and now I was unsure of what I was going to do.

We walked back to the apartment in silence, we passed by the common room. People were laughing and dancing on the hardwood floor. Kids ran around trying catch one for fluffy precarious birds. I wished I could be joyous with them, but there was a gnawing sensation growing in the pit of my stomach.

After walking through the door of our home I flopped onto one of the couches. Preacher came in and took a seat on the other, watching his friend as he walked to the window gazing out over the moonlit landscape. Sasha waltzed over and curled up onto the seat next to Preacher, the two had become inseparable.

"You really should just get this over with." Preacher stated, breaking the silence, his eyes never wavering from the man at the window.

"Get what over with it?" Sasha stared at him in bewilderment. There went that twisting turning feeling in my gut again.

"Being here with the three of you has reminded me what it was like being around close friends and family. Something I never thought I would ever feel again." Reaper finally spoke, his back to us. "However, I feel like a caged animal, yearning for freedom."

He finally turned, his eyes landed on me. I dared myself not to cry, as he calmly walked to me. He knelt before me, taking my hands into his. This it what I had been dreading, upon the realization I could not stay in the outside world.

"Julianne, I cannot stay here. This is not my home, my home is out there." I could hear the pain in his voice, I could feel a tear slowly travel across my cheek.

"I know, I've seeing with way you stare out of the tubes when you think you're alone. But.." I trailed off, my head down casted, hair spilling in front of my face. He reached up, tilting my chin till we made eye contact.

"Your place is here, you have a society to rebuild they will need someone to lead them, and guide them." His words were soft, another tear collided with the first and fell from my chin it pooled on the back of my hand.

"I can't." My words caught in my throat.

"Yes, you can. You'll have Preacher and your sister to help you." He glance over the two sitting on the couch.

"You won't go at this alone." Preacher spoke up. "Besides, I fear if I leave this one alone she'll winding up pinned by some slithering beast."

"I loath you." She smacked him on the shoulder as he chuckled. Catching her hand as she went to smack him again.

"I loath you too, love."

"So this is it?" I asked meekly meeting his eyes again. "Your leaving."

"I'll always come back to you, kid." He wrapped his arms around me, embracing me.

~~~

Reaper and I stood at the door again, alone this time. He held me for a long time as I pulled myself together. I felt like I had known him my whole life and that he only just entered at the same time. I hated myself for crying, I worried that he would never come back, that something would kill him and I'd never know.

"You promise to come back?" I asked pulling my head back off his chest.

"For you, always." He replied before kissing me, I leaned in grasping his shirt hoping this moment would last forever.

He finally pulled away, I watched as he open the outside door. We both stepped out together. Droplets graced my skin, cool and wet. The moonlight twinkled in the puddles that had formed, rippling with each new drop of rain that joined. The rain made a light pitter patter as it danced across the land. I stopped just outside the threshold, my arms crossed as I watched my watcher walk confidently out into the night.

He left just as he came into my life, on a rainy night. Quietly just like the first time, a hurricane had in between that short time and life for me would never be the same. A mixture of feelings rolled through and a cold shiver racked through my body.

I stayed longer then I should of, past the point of my lung burning. I could no longer see him when I turned and walked back through the door. I gave it hard shove, closing it. I walked to the tube I first saw him and sat on the floor drench to the bone as a green streak arced in the distance.

Permanent tag-

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[imagineclaireandjamie]

goodnight, noises everywhere

Mod Gotham says: Here’s how I’ve processed my intense feels from 03x09...

“Now, let’s see…what do you want to read tonight?”

 Four-year-old Brianna furrowed her wee red brows, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly, settling deeper under the thick quilt.

 “Goodnight Moon, Mama?”

 Claire tilted her head, questioning. “But we just read that one last night, love. Surely you can pick another story out of all the books in this room? What about the ones you just got for your birthday?”

 Yet Brianna shook her head, red curls still a bit damp from her bath. “George wants to hear it again.”

 Claire’s heart lurched, just a bit. For this girl’s stubbornness echoed that of someone she once knew and cared for – deeply. But to think of him now…

 She coughed, turned to Brianna’s nightstand, and retrieved the much-loved book. Cuddling right up next to her daughter, she opened the cover.

 “Can you help me start?”

 Bree moved George in the circle of her arm so that he could better see the pages. “In the great green room, there was a telephone…”

 --

 Jamie settled against the damp stone at the entrance to the cave, sipping the weak stew he’d been living on since finding three rabbits in his snares a few days before.

 The weather had turned tonight. November often brought hints of winter’s chill, tempered with the warmer winds of October. But this night felt like proper winter – the cold seeping through his rags and into his bones, settling in the ice around his heart.

 Had Claire made it safely back through the stones, and had she borne their bairn – the child would be nearly four now. He would never know, of course – and thanked God for it. For not knowing allowed him to dream.

 On nights like these, the moon reminded him of his time spent at the abbey in France, while healing from the head wound that had nearly killed him. The dark, quiet hours in the cold, cold chapel, hours spent in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. A beacon of white – of hope – amid the shadows. A reminder that he was not quite alone.

 The Man in the Moon. He minded his own father telling him stories when he was a lad – about the man who lived up there, with his wife and family, raising white sheep and white pigs and white cows.

 Did Claire and the bairn see – and know – the same moon? Did they tell the same stories? Was it a full moon for them tonight, as it was for him?

 “Lord, that they may be safe…” he breathed, sipping from the now-cold stew.

 --

 “It was amazing, to see that today.” Claire quietly sipped her mug of oolong, legs folded on the couch. Brianna crouched by the fire, adding a few more logs.

 “The pictures looked so – so fantastic.” Roger crossed his legs in the overstuffed chair Frank had always loved, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. “I remember reading stories about such things, when I was a lad – never thought I’d live to actually *see* it.”

 Brianna stood, set the grate back in front of the fire, and crossed the room to sit between them. “I just hope we get there before the Russians do. Then perhaps all this nonsense about a ‘space race’ would be over and done with.”  

 “And live in a time of peace,” Claire breathed. “That’s what we all want, isn’t it?”

 “I thought it was beautiful how the astronauts read from the Bible,” Roger continued. “How…how awed they were at the sight.”

 Claire turned to face her daughter – and for a split second saw the naked love in Roger’s eyes, before he tore his gaze away from Brianna.

 So she would not be alone. Praise be to God.

 “Do you remember how many times we read Goodnight Moon, when you were small?”

 No – I can’t cry – I won’t cry…

 “Goodnight Moon? Is that a children’s book?”

 “It is,” Brianna smiled at Roger. “A small rabbit wishes goodnight to all the things in his room. ‘Goodnight bears, goodnight chairs, goodnight kittens, and goodnight mittens…’”

 --

 It was a long while before Claire finally spoke again. “Of course the story was easy enough for her to follow, when she was so small. Just…a litany of goodnights. And it helped that she had many of those same items in her bedroom. Made the story a bit more real for her.”

 Behind her – around her – Jamie sighed, snuffling into the side of her neck. *I’m here, with you,* his arms told her. *We are together now….we share one mind, one heart. I understand.*

 “Do bairns in that time ken about the Man in the Moon?” he whispered, chin settling on her shoulder, watching the white light dance on the waves.

 “Of course. We talk about him – but there aren’t many stories about him.” She turned to rub her nose against his. “Do you know any stories?”

 “I do. A few, from my father, mostly. I’ll tell you, one day. We have the time now.”

 In the dark she sought his lips – and he met them in a long kiss.

 “We do,” she breathed against his mouth. “Thank God. We do.”

 --

 “What do ye mean ye dinna ken the stories of the Man in the Moon?” Jamie’s voice raised theatrically in the small room. “How have ye lived all this time wi’out hearing them?”

 “We ken Goodnight Moon,” Jem offered. “Mam would read it to me and Mandy every night, at Lallybroch. But she never told us anything about the Man!” He looked across the room – red brows furrowed accusingly at his mother.

 “I read the story to them, because Mama read it to me when I was small. It helped Mandy learn to read.” Brianna settled an arm around Claire’s shoulders, seated on the foot of Mandy’s bed. Safe and secure in the children’s new room in the new Big House.

 “Can ye tell us the stories then, Grand-da?” Mandy suggested, her brown curls exploding against the pillow, clutching Esmerelda tight.

 Jamie sat at the foot of Jem’s bed, one hand extended to Claire – who quickly crossed the small room to settle into his arms. Roger took Claire’s place beside Brianna at the foot of Mandy’s bed.

 Jamie’s voice was calm, strong – but his fingers shook as they clutched Claire’s, so tight.

 He cleared his throat.

 “Weel, the Man isna up there alone, to start wi’. He has his wife, and his daughter, and grandbairns. And a whole stable full of horses and coos and a paddock full of sheep whose wool is as white as the newest snow…”

[paladinsheadcanons]

I want to see more Arturos! Maybe him and Sha Lin have a contest?

Yay Arturos! He’s actually super fun to write about. - Mod Mal’Damba

Upon learning that her father would be staying with the Paladins for the next couple of weeks, Cassie promptly got around to introducing Arturos to her friends. They were welcoming, those who had heard of him before honoured to be in the presence of the legendary hunter whose name had crossed many lands. The huntress was saving who she thought her father might take a great interest in for last, pulling him down to the archery range when everyone else had been met and introduced.

“Sha Lin!” Cassie called down the range, attracting the attention of the Desert Wind who was practicing on targets that were punctured with arrows ridiculously close to the bullseye mark. She excitedly ran up to him, dragging her father with her. The archer lowered his bow when he saw her running up.

“I’ve been introducing my dad to everyone since he’s staying for a few weeks,” She explained. “Dad, this is Sha Lin. Sha, my dad Arturos.” The two men shook hands.

“It is an honour to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard many stories of your legendary hunts,” Sha Lin dipped his head in respect to the hunter.

Arturos put his palm on his chest, honoured by the compliment. “The pleasure is all mine.” He eyed the bow in Sha Lin’s hand. “You an archer too huh?”

“Yes sir. Grew up with this old thing.” Sha Lin raised the bow, taking fire at the target. The arrow he shot broke another one already stuck into the too-full board, cracking the arrow and causing its bottom end to fall to the ground. 

“I don’t suppose you’d be up for a little friendly competition?” Arturos proposed. “No stakes, just a little test of our skills.”

A competition in which there was nothing to lose, against who might be the greatest archer to ever live? “I accept,” Sha Lin responded confidently. “How about tomorrow, after breakfast?”

Arturos nodded, and they shook hands again in agreement of the contest. It would be a true sight to see, two amazingly skilled archers putting their skills against each other. They wished Sha Lin goodbye, exiting the range to head back up to the base.

Word of their little competition had spread across the entire team, and they were excitedly chatting amongst themselves over who would win. Drogoz had already started taking bets early in the morning from the rest of the team. The night before Pip and Grohk had gone out catching birds for the contest - after all, what fun was an archery contest on stationary targets? 

They had settled on releasing the birds one by one, in which the next bird would only be released after the previous one had been shot down or escaped, and whoever could kill all twenty birds first would win. The Paladins gathered around the point in the center of Serpent Beach where both contenders faced their backs to each other. Pip sat on one ledge on Sha Lin’s side, while Cassie sat on the other ledge facing her father, both of them with a cage full of calling pigeons at their feet. 

“Contestants, are you ready?” Bomb King called through a loudspeaker that was completely unnecessary. Sha Lin and Arturos both gave their ready responses, drawing their bows in preparation. “Go!”

Pip and Cassie got to work, opening the cage and grabbing the first bird they could reach and tossing it into the air. The pigeons flew, desperate to be free, one by one escaping the cage as both archers shot them down with remarkable precision and speed. 

The Paladins cheered on for both of them as pigeons fell from the sky one by one. A few arrows on both ends whizzed past the birds harmlessly, although no bird got away in time to escape their fates. It was a rhythm they followed. Draw, aim, fire, draw, aim, fire. Nothing else mattered.

Arturos, with his many more years of experience under his belt, could only beat Sha Lin by a second. “Done!” Cassie yelled, shutting the empty bird cage just as Sha Lin shot his last one out of the sky.

The Paladins roared in excitement, Drogoz splitting the betting prize pool among those who had bet on Arturos. Both contenders turned to face each other, shaking hands. “It was an honour to compete against you, Sha Lin. You have years less of training, but you are still a legendary archer yourself.” He placed a hand on Sha Lin’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Arturos. It would still be my greatest honour if you would train me for the few weeks that you are staying here.” The Desert Wind slung his bow onto his back, hoping that Arturos would agree.

The legendary hunter chuckled. “I doubt there is anything I could teach you that you don’t already know, but I will gladly train with you. These old hands haven’t had time to hunt anything as of late. Come on, let’s go back inside.”

[crazy4malex]

A Family Affair (MALEX FIC)

crazy4malex

Summary:

Michael introduces Alex, his lover, to his family. 

(AKA: Alex Gets Drunk)

"Ahhh, Alex, don't you think you should slow it down a little?" Michael's eyebrows rose as Alex slammed down his 3rd shot and waved to Maria for another one with a look and 4 fingers raised.

"You want one? I can order you one. You've only had one." Alex looked perplexed, just realizing this fact.

"I thought we would wait to get shit faced after Max and Iz got here." Michael stated calmly and with raised eyebrows.

"They're going to hate me." Alex said already a little tipsy.

"No they're not. Is that what you're worried about?" Michael asked with a frown.

"Yep!" Alex said and the "p" at the end of "yep" made a popping sound. "And they will hate you when they find out you told me about the three of you." Alex whispered.

"Well...that they might. But tough. I don't believe in keeping that large of a secret from the person you want to spend the rest of your life with like Iz did. Max and I were wrong to make that promise with her years ago, but since then only Iz has been able to do that. Neither Max nor I have."

"She's going to hate me and kill you." Alex mumbled into his next shot that Maria set down in front of him.

"Who died?" Maria asked, having watched Alex get shit faced across the room.

"Michael. I'm morning ahead of time." Alex answered and started to take his next shot.

Michael snagged it out of Alex's hand and put it down near him. "I'm not going to die okay?"

"Why are you two drinking together all of a sudden? And, Michael, you usually drink plenty and, Alex, you barely drink when you come in here. So what's up? Maria asked with a confused expression.

"Maria," Alex turned to look up at her. "Michael is mine."

Michael winced and closed his eyes for a second and then looked up at Maria's astonished face.

"Wait, since when?" she asked still looking confused. Alex had just been in here alone just last week and Michael had been at his own seat at the end of the bar, and neither had looked at each other.

"He's been mine for forever." Alex stated not realizing Maria was having trouble processing all of this.

"Forev....oh my God! Alex, is Michael "museum guy?!" she exclaimed with a gleam in her eyes now.

"Yep." Alex said again with the same pop and a bright smile on his face at being able to say who he we in love with now.

"Alex, I'm so happy for you! And, Guerin, if you want to live, you take care of him and don't cause him to drink like this anymore." she warned.

"See, you are gonna die either way." Alex said and when Michael looked up at Maria to argue with her, Alex snatched the shot glass away from Michael and slammed it back. "Definitely gonna die by someone tonight." Alex finished.

"I'm not making him drink, Maria, this is his idea. Hey!" he looked over at Alex as he shot down the drink he'd confiscated a few minutes ago.

"See! Your fault, Museum Guy!" Maria accused.

"And what the hell is "Museum Guy?" " Michael asked in frustration.

"Oh...well that's easy. Remember in high school, our first kiss and where it was? Well I only told Maria my best kiss was with a guy in the UFO museum, hence "Museum guy!""

"Museum Guy!" Maria and Alex said at the same time.

"What the hell is "Museum Guy?"" Isobel said coming up behind them and taking a seat as Max took the one that was left.

"Nothing." Michael and Maria exclaimed quickly.

"The first guy I ever kissed it was in the UFO museum where I worked." Alex blurted out very calmly.

"Okay!" Maria said to change the subject. "Max, Isobel, what would you like to drink? Michael another one?" She asked in server mod now.

After they placed their orders and Maria had gone back to the bar, Isobel turned to Michael and asked. "So, why are we here tonight, Michael, and why is Alex here?

"We're gonna die, definitely gonna die." Alex murmured again.

Michael reached down under the table and took Alex's hand.

"I wanted you guys to meet the man I'm in love with and will be spending the rest of my life with." Michael said calmly.

"What!?" Max exclaimed.

"You What?! Alex?!" Isobel got out.

"Here we go. Now it happens" Alex closed his eyes.

Michael took control.

"Would you stop with the dying bit Alex, and yes Isobel and Max, Alex is who I fell in love with and am going to commit to like you and Noah, Isobel."

"Well...well..." Isobel couldn't think of anything to say to that.

"By why Alex, I mean when? You've been by yourself forever, when did this happen?" she asked when she thought what to say.

"He's loved Alex since we were kids." Max stated quietly, getting everyone's attention.

"How did you know?" Michael asked in surprise.

"I saw how you two looked at each other. And other little things."

"Hi guys. How are you tonight." Alex smiled and waved.

Both Max and Isobel looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Ah yeah, we're past that now Alex." Michael reminded Alex who reached for his next drink when Maria came back and dropped off their orders.

"Hey! I didn't order a beer I ordered a shot!" Alex explained.

"I know but you've had enough for tonight. Take the beer Manes and like it." Maria said hand on her hip that wasn't holding the serving tray.

"So bossy." Alex complained but sipped the beer. But upon seeing Isobel staring at him, he took a gulp.

"So, is this a celebration or something?" Isobel asked still looking at Alex.

"Yeah. Alex and I have reunited and are a couple and I thought my family would like to know first." Michael make clear.

"So, Alex huh? Have you seen much of your father lately?" Isobel said but stared daggers at Michael.

"Relax, Alex won't be running to monster sergeant Manes anytime soon." Michael told them in a warning voice.

"And why is that?" Isobel asked.

"Sergeant Manes hates the sight of me." Alex explained quietly.

"And Alex knows to keep quiet about everything."

"Oh God." Alex whispered and took another big gulp of beer.

"Everything?" Isobel asked emphasizing the word and looking dangerously at Michael.

"Michael, did you say something to Alex?"

"Yep. He told me and now Isobel can kill us so get it over with." Alex said quickly.

"Michael, maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else." Max looked around and then stared at Michael in disbelief.

"Nah, he wanted to meet here so that you couldn't kill us before we had our last drink." Alex told them, now so drunk he didn't care. He and Michael loved each other and had told each other so that was good enough for Alex.

"And I won't say anything. In fact, I think I can help." Alex smiled happily just realizing that.

"Okay that's it. We're leaving. We'll talk more later. I just wanted to let you know Alex and I are serious and will be without secrets. He's going to be a big part of my life now and I'm not shutting him out." And with that Michael led Alex out.

"We're not done yet Michael!" Isobel called out.

"Well that went well." Alex stated happily as Michael helped him up into his truck.

Alex was quiet for awhile as they drove back to their cabin. They had decided to move in together and were as committed as any other loving couple.

"I don't think they believe that we're serious Michael." Alex said quietly.

"What? Why do you think that?" Michael was surprised.

"They don't see us as committed as Isobel and Noah. Same for Max when he has a girlfriend and they move in. You can't blame them Michael. They're going to be really upset knowing you told me like when Max told Liz." Alex explained calmly.

"Yeah but we're together for good. Max and Liz don't even have a relationship!"

"Still." and with his hand in Michael's yawned and fell asleep.

Michael was alone with his thoughts for the rest of the ride home.

When he pulled into the driveway of the cabin, Michael decided not to wake Alex and just carried him to bed.

Later that night Alex was awakened to a lot of movement.

"Quit moving, I'm trying to sleep. Wait...are you...what?!" Alex asked incredulous.

The light had gone on and Michael was kneeling on the floor next to Alex with a ring held out to him.

"Will you marry me Alex."

[imagineclaireandjamie]

The Last All-Clear (Part 3)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story is a series of vignettes following the premise: “Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him… What would he do?”

Formatting note: Bolding in Jamie’s letters = underlining

Previously:

(Part 1) September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail

(Part 2) December 3, 1942: Comb and Glove

(Part 3) 

1943: Blood and Whisky  

April 29, 1943

“BLOODY—”

I was already falling, stumbling over a rut in the dark. My hands crashed into the side of the shed and I surrendered; let the wall take my weight, wished it would take still more from me. Moving, righting myself—those were foreign, even the prospect of allowing myself to sink to the ground. All I could do, I did: I leaned my forehead against that wall and fell apart. 

Proud of yourself, are you? 

Ruined your goddamn career, Beauchamp. 

It’s over. 

My tears were icy-cold upon my cheek. I’d run out of the surgery tent in nothing more than my smock, and I was shivering so hard my entire body was seizing. Though, truthfully, it mightn’t have been the cold, at all. 

HOW could you be so careless, Nurse Randall??

Don’t you realize what could have HAPPENED, Nurse Randall? 

One more such blunder and I SWEAR, I’ll make it so you’ll never work in the QAs or any civilian surgery again, Nurse—

“Nurse Randall?”

“JESUS H—” I whirled and gasped and choked on a half-uttered sob, but from that familiar ‘RON-dahl’, I knew who it was before I actually saw. 

Danton was slowly rising to his feet a few yards away to my left at the corner of the shed, as though he had been sitting there, enjoying the clear, crisp night. I saw him slip a small book—a diary?—into his jacket pocket before raising both hands in front of him, showing that he didn’t mean to alarm. There was alarm aplenty in his own manner, though, as he took in the sight of me: hair wild from where I’d torn off my cap, front and sleeves and gloved hands covered in blood. 

“Oh, bollocks,” I moaned, just then noticing the bloody handprints on the stretched-canvas wall of the shed. My clumsy swipes at the mess only made it worse, and for some reason that made me cry even harder. 

“Din—Do not trouble yourself, madame, please,” he said in that slow, oddly-accented English, indicating the blood-streaked wall. “I will take care of this myself.” 

I could only nod my thanks as I turned my back to him, as I tried to calm my breathing. I shucked off the gloves and threw them on the ground, tried to focus on how to look less like the utter lunatic and fool that I was. Just what I needed, I thought as I hunched my shoulders and buried my face in my hands: an audience for my descent into madness. Although.... company did have its advantages. 

“Aviez...” I rasped out as I turned back to him, my gulps for air spasming like those of a small child as I struggled for the ridiculously-simple French conjugation. “No, wait—Avez-tu, no, SHIT, VOUS un—une—”

“Speak English, madame,” he offered gently. “It is alright.”  

English, then. “Do you have a bloody cigarette?”

Every man in camp had cigarettes, but this man had the absolute gall to look disapproving. “You should not smoke, madame.”

I practically bared my teeth at him as I snarled, “Well, governments shouldn’t drop bombs on people and blow them apart, either, but here we fucking well are.”

Whether it was the words themselves or the violence behind them, he did not push it further. He fished in his pocket, and I was already reaching before I realized it wasn’t, in fact, a cigarette case he held.

Hunched shoulders shrugged once as he offered me the battered flask. “Better than nothing, non?”

Better than just about anything, in fact.  Accepting it gratefully (and deciding any grace or decorum had left my company for good, tonight), I sank onto the ground, leaning against the wall as I unscrewed the lid and took a tentative sniff. Oh, blessed Jesus: whisky. 

“Please, ‘ave it all, if you wish,” he said, seeing my oh-so-slight hesitation over seeming greedy. “You are needing it, I think.”

“Bloody right.” I downed half of it in a single, long gulp. Heaven. 

My eyes were closed and I was just getting my breath back when I heard him shift and say: “I bid you a good night, madame. You can return the flask another—” 

“No, don’t!” I blurted.

He didn’t actually look at me. “Do not...?”

My voice was a pitiful whisper. “....Would you please—stay? I—” For, as much as I was mortified to have been seen at my worst in these minutes since my flight from the surgery, the prospect of being alone with my thoughts was .... “Would you? Please?”

He was cast deep enough in shadow that I couldn’t see it myself, but I was certain his expression had gone drawn and tight; I’d seen him react thusly countless times, usually precipitating a hasty departure. At last, though, he relented, and to my surprise, actually sat on the ground beside me, just more than an arm’s length away. When I glanced over, his forearms were resting comfortably on bent knees. The hat and long hair and beard obscured him, as always, but his manner was peaceful as he looked up at the sky, one bare hand absently rubbing the the gloved one, the stiff one.

“What happened to it?” I blurted, misjudging where I was mid-sip, and ending up dribbling all over my front. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, just gave a puzzled grunt. “Your hand,” I clarified in my still-sniffly voice, taking another sip to hide my embarrassment (bloody hell, you ARE a paragon tonight, Beauchamp).  “How did it get injured?” 

I felt him stiffen awkwardly, but he answered simply enough.  “It was crushed, several years ago.”

“That’s...terrible.” Crushed. Jesus H. Christ. “An accident?” A wheel, maybe, or piece of farm equipment.

“No.” A pause before he said softly, with something I could only place as shame: “An act of cruelty.”

“I’m—My God, Danton....I’m so very sorry.” To think of the kind of person—monster who could have hurt him so, purposely hurt him in such a horrific manner. I wouldn’t dream of pressing him for details of the event itself, but damn me, my medical interest was piqued and I couldn’t resist asking, “Does it still give you pain?”

“Ay—Yes. Sometimes.”

“Will you let me look at it?” I was dying to see what manner of surgical repair had been done to allow him such dextrous use. I reached out, inviting.

“No,” he said, almost snapped, recoiling. “No, madame. There is nothing you could do, in any case.”

You. Something sliced in the bottom of my gut. My lips were wooden as I gulped from the flask again and turned back to face forward, “Of course. Nothing I could do.”

The consternation was clear in his voice as he hastily amended, “Nothing—anyone could—”

“It’s true though,” I said falteringly, the fatigue and the turmoil and the spirits making me half-delirious as I croaked out, “I’m absolutely useless.”

“That is not true, madame.”

Sweet man. Sweet and wrong. I looked up at the moon, wishing I could get off this wretched planet and escape everything, never to look back. I squeezed my eyes tight-shut. 

“I nearly killed someone just now.” 

The words were tumbling out of me. “I was supposed to be holding the clamps in the chest cavity while the surgeons worked and I must have held too tightly or slipped or something—I’d nicked the artery and before I knew it, he—he was bleeding out— so quickly—so goddamned fast—and by the time we realized— By the time they stabilized him—The surgeons— everyone—screaming at me and—”

I swallowed a scream and drained the last of the whisky, every last drop of oblivion it promised. 

“A soldier leaves his home,” I grated out, though every word trembled, “to fight for king and country, gets himself half-destroyed by artillery for the cause, for his family and friends, and it’s a stupid, stupid excuse for a nurse that nearly kills him because she THOUGHT she could—could do this.” 

“....Could do what, madame?” 

I thudded my head back against the canvas wall once, my voice ragged with shame. “It’s good, I suppose, that I’m learning this now, the hard way.” He started to say something, but I was already voicing the wretched truth:  “They wouldn’t even have me if there weren’t a war on.” A sob of despair slipped out. “I’m just not capable of the things surgeons are.”

“Yes, you are,” he laughed at once. Yes, laughed—chuckled, actually. I was stunned into silence, still more when he added, more soberly, but with that same unhesitating conviction, “You are capable, Nurse Randall.” 

“With all due respect, Danton...” My throat ached from the effort of maintaining some shred of control over myself. “...how would you know?”

I was ashamed as soon as I said it, but if my pointed inflection rankled him, he didn’t let on. “I know.” 

Sensing rightly that such an answer was not going to cut it, he leaned forward, clasping his hands together around his knees. “I am often in the wards near to you, do you know?”

He was, nearly every day, at some point or another, to lift patients or bodies or bring or take away as he was needed. He was such a solid, reliable presence, to me and the other—well, no. To me. 

“I speak very little,” he continued, “but I keep my eyes open. I ‘ave been watching you—Non, pardonnez-moi,” he amended at once, “that is not what I—I only mean....I ‘ave noticed you. You see?”

I hadn’t been offended by the choice of words, just mute with shock that he was speaking at all, and even now, I could only manage, “...oh?”

“Oui,” he said softly. “You are....most kind to me, of course, and yet you ‘ave a spirit that is—ruthless.... and that is no small thing.” With every word, he spoke faster and more surely. “You can take orders when you must, but you so easily, admirably assume authority and ‘elp direct others when there is need. Not everyone can do this, you know.”

Jesus.

He wasn’t finished. “You ‘ave a sense, an uncanny sense, for the urgency of a matter, and ‘ow you must conduct yourself to best remedy it. I do not see you daunted by blood or dirt or uncomfortable interactions as the others are. You...take charge. You carry on, and ‘elp, and fix, no matter the need.” From the corner of my eye, though we were both facing forward, I saw him nod. “You are uncommonly strong, madame.”

His words were like—like tingling in my fingers and toes; a reminder of life and liveliness in a stagnant dark. I was stunned by it, by the evident honesty behind his words. He’d truly noticed all—?

He’d have died, Nurse Randall.

YOUR name would have been down as cause of—

“Blustering through awkward encounters is hardly strength,” I gritted out, my body coursing with every despairing thought and memory as I latched onto the easiest of his statements.  “Pigheadness at best. It’s acting; that’s all it fucking is. Stubbornly acting like I know what the bloody hell I’m doing when I DON’T.”  

A beat of silence, in which I wanted nothing more than to curl up and vanish. When he spoke again, his voice was so unutterably gentle, understanding. “You are tired, mo—madame, and—”  

“That doesn’t—”

 “You ‘ad one mistake,” he pressed, “one unfortunate night. It does not take away all that you ‘ave done; all that you are, in yourself.”

Before I could speak, he was crouching beside me, and—Good Lord— taking my hand in both of his. For once, it was me that couldn’t look him in the eye. I stared at our joined hands as he spoke, watching them ripple through gathering tears. 

“There is not anything ‘ere you cannot manage, madame, if the need is great upon you,” he said. “I know this in the deepest part of who I am. It may sound—ridiculous, an overstepping to say such things, but it is the very truth, as I know it. Forget the men who yell and shame you, and let yourself remember who you are. You are yourself, always.....you are capable. You will make mistakes, yes, as all do, but in the urgency of battle and of war and upheaval, that is where you are the most strong. You prove this day after day. One mistake does not undo it. Tonight does not undo it.”

In the last two minutes, Danton had uttered what had to be triple, quadruple, even, the amount of words of our entire acquaintance; and the way he’d spoken them—fluid and strong and true, his accent even seeming less pronounced as he spoke, encouraged me with a message as piercing and discerning as though he’d known me all my life—

I surrendered to his words, broke from them, wept like a child without holding back; let the warmth of his hands on mine, his presence, his unfathomable belief in me, begin to drive my shame and fear and doubt off into the night. 

C. E. B. Randall

Camp Nightwing, France

29 April

Always darkest before the dawn. Can’t even express how much Danton’s words tonight meant to me. Have been feeling for some time now like I’m the worst sort of fraud, for believing I could be more, that I might pursue more, one day. I always had the sense that even Frank is only indulging me with this whole medical business, rather than genuinely believing I had something to offer. How should a man that’s practically a stranger to me be the one to set that fire of purpose back in my hands and my heart again? I don’t know why him, but I’m grateful. I WILL work harder, better. I will SHOW them what I have to offer. 

-CEBR

7 4 3  

I shouldna have taken your hand last night. Jesus, God, what madness came over me? Only I saw ye like that, lass, love, so young and fragile, covered in blood, weeping your whole heart out there in the night, and—Those things ye said of yourself:  they were the vilest slander. It broke my heart that ye should believe them, even for a moment, and I had to speak against that darkness in your heart. Ye needed to hear what you are, within you—what you can be, what you will be. No...what you are, beneath the fear. 

And the look in your eyes Claire, when ye handed back the flask and I bade ye farewell—the utter fire in them? To see that same flame still alight today—the way ye squeezed my hand again and thanked me over and over—began asking me anew about my own life, my experiences—and pressed still more when I demurred, until had to wrench myself away to tend to some feigned task? 

No, I shouldna have taken your hand. I can still feel your touch on my skin. 

C. E. B. Randall

Camp Nightwing, France

20 August

My hands are SHAKING with happiness. A special commendation by the chief surgeon for my performance these last several months, and on top of it all, a PROMOTION! I am positively bursting with pride and excitement. Absolutely cannot wait to tell Danton! Going to run out and find him before final bell. 

And Frank, of course. Must write to Frank. 

First thing in the morning. 

8 5 7  

I cannot stop myself. I cannot. I still keep my distance to some extent, still willna let ye see my face clearly, still willna tell ye of who Monsieur Danton might have been before joining the camp, but still....I treasure every single one of your smiles, Claire. I treasure every time you come to tell me of your day, grinning like a wee fool as ye detail for me whatever manner of infection or pestilence ye vanquished since last we spoke. I do little save smile and nod, you’ll know, but ye always see the genuine feeling in even those small nothings. I treasure that, too. I treasure every moment of you. 

I know I shall have to stop this, shall have to pull back to keep this connection from growing into something dangerous for us both, but not yet. May I be damned for my weakness, but I cannot, yet. 

[imagineclaireandjamie]

A Flood My Mornings prompt. Night check at the stables is often a separate shift from day shifts that start as early as 6am. It's usually around 9pm, often a separate employee does it from day shift workers during the week, and sometimes on weekends or holidays an owner or manager would do it. A 'night check moment' with Jamie and Claire might be fun, or even a Fraser family outing with Brianna in her little jammies :)

Flood my Mornings: Night Check 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: Plymouth Trace (Jamie and Claire take the new car for a whirl. Yes, THAT kind.) 

October, 1950 

“Thanks for doing this, bud,” Tom said, pulling his coat off the hook by the lounge door and shrugging into it. “Really. I owe you big time. Honestly, I’d cover it myself, but I’ve had this  special night out planned with Marian, and—”

“Dinna mention it, Tom,” Jamie said, gesturing reassurance. “Truly, I’m happy to be of help.”

Tom rummaged in his pockets for his keys, still looking regretful. “Was Claire spitting mad at me for stealing you away for the night?”

“No, no, not at all. On the phone just now, she bade me wish Nelson the best o’ luck wi’ his recovery. The gri–” Careful, man, “—that is, the Flu is a nasty business, and I’ve reason to know it.”

“Well, you’re a saint for stepping in last minute to cover his night watch shift, J—really really appreciate it,” Tom said once more as they walked out into the car yard. 

It was approaching sunset, and the last of the horses were being led to the stables for the night. It would be a peaceful night, if a long one, Jamie hoped. 

Tom opened the door of his 1946 Chevrolet Pickup (black, with silver trimmings and the special wide-base wheels) and sat behind the wheel, looking up at Jamie as he cranked the engine. “Jerry will be in at five in the morning as usual—Don’t you even think of staying to work tomorrow though, hear?”

“I hear. Have a good night, Tom. And give Marian my best, aye?” He slammed the door and waved Tom off on his way. 

It was a peaceful evening, on the whole. He saw the last of the day staff off to their homes and made the rounds as night fell, changing water, food, and blankets and taking special care to inspect several of the beasts that hadn’t been given proper attention of late. 

He loved being among the horses—always had, ever since he was a wee lad. The quiet strength of them, he supposed it was—the knowledge that they were large and strong enough to kill a man, but kind and soulful nonetheless. He loved speaking to them in Gaelic. He got a few odd looks for it during the day, to be sure, but other than Brianna, who understood and could speak a few words, the horses were the only folk in this new life to whom he could speak in his heart’s tongue, and feel as if he were fully understood. Claire, of course, knew his heart, regardless of the language; but speaking soft words to the horses, they seemed to have a knowing in their large, round eyes that transcended time and its changings. Aye, they seemed to say, you’re of long-ago stuff, man; and so am I. 

“Or maybe you’re just a horse, aye, Val?” he said, rubbing the beast affectionately on the nose before closing the stall and heading back to the lounge. 

He was dismayed to find it was only half-past ten, for the length of the day had caught up with him. He rubbed his eyes but couldn’t seem to shake their bleary view. If only he had a book with him—Just yesterday, he had gotten from the Library a tome on American government, and he’d been itching to read it and figure out this country once and for all. 

He tried to make do with jotting notes in his wee book on the happenings reported by the man on the Wireless about the war in distant Korea. Though it pleased him that he was able to understand most of it, the news of the fighting chilled him, and he couldn’t make himself mind it for long. 

Before heading back out into the chill to make another circuit of the stalls, he set about making coffee in the wee machine, now feeling weary in more ways than one. As willing as he’d been to come to poor Nelson’s aid, he would’ve given most anything to fall into a soft bed with Claire at that very moment.

As he was adding a dollop of whiskey from the cupboard above the Frigidaire, there came a small knock and a soft, musical, “Hel-looo-ooo?” from behind him.

To his immense surprise, Claire was standing there, wearing blue jeans, boots, and wool coat against the crisp chill of early October; In her arms, Bree, pajama-clad, covered over with a warm sweater and a knitted cap. 

“Well, if this isna a pleasant surprise!” He said, hastily setting down the bottle and going to them. “I was just thinking of how I wanted to see my loves.”

“Horzzis, Mama?” piped Bree against his ear as he pulled them both close. 

“Christ, but it’s late, mo nighean donn. Is everything alright? And how did ye get—?

“Everything’s fine, we just couldn’t sleep; took a taxi,“ Claire explained her voice sounding small and tired. She laid her head on his shoulder as they swayed. “Hope it doesn’t disturb you, we just— needed to see you.”

He squeezed them both tighter, kissed Claire’s cool cheek, and stepped back, feeling warmed to his core as he took Bree happily into his arms. “I’ll never say no to my lassies, no matter the hour.”

“Da-me-in-go–” Bree gasped out, brimming with excitement. “Da-n-go mitta-seeinn-th-horzzis, m’okay, Da-ddy? M’okay?”

He laughed and sputtered a bit as he took in the rapid fire. Brianna, little more than a month away from two years of age, had been making leaps and bounds in terms of her vocabulary of late, beginning to get the way of longer, more complicated sentences. Increasingly consistent in this endeavor she undoubtedly was, but it always took that extra second for Jamie to mentally translate the stream of almost-correct syllables, a delay that invariably peeved the speaker, who never could understand why folk were being so slow.

“Horzzis, m’okay?” she repeated.

“Seeing Da and seeing the horses were on an equal footing, as far as Bree was concerned,” Claire said, smiling, but still sounding tired. “She’s never seen a horse in person, before.”

“Horzza-horzzis!” Bree insisted again, craning around for sight of one, then squaring back up to look him sternly, her hands on his cheeks. “Seein-th-horzzis–m’okay, Daddy?”

“Okay, a leannan,” he grinned, squeezing her tight and kissing her wee nose. Christ, but he loved this feisty wee baggage. “Let’s go see the horses.”

“What have you been doing to pass the time?” Claire asked as they entered Stable B.

“Oh, coffee, the Radio, thinking, talking wi’ the horses.”

“Do they make good conversation?”

“Oh, well enough,” he said, clucking his tongue to beckon Cornflower to the stall door.

Bree gasped at sight of the huge, grey flanks rotating in the stall. “Issa horz–AGHHH!!”

She squawked as Cornflower’s head came around and jumped so violently Jamie nearly lost his grip. “Och, come now, lass, it’s only one o’ the horses ye wanted to see, aye?” He took a step closer and turned so she could see Cornflower over his shoulder.

“Noooo!” Bree squealed, terrified, cowering under Jamie’s chin. “‘Inna like-’im!”

“Nothing to be scairt of, mo chridhe.” He reached out a hand and firmly stroked Corny’s soft nose. “See? She’s gentle—just like a big dog.”

“Notta dog!” Bree wailed sharply as she tried to get as far as possible from the beast, almost sobbing.“‘Ssa horssiz!”

No matter how much they coaxed and wheedled, Brianna could not be persuaded to touch Cornflower or any of the other horses. She would show interest in them from a distance, but when confronted by their huge toothy faces, she would wail and burrow– terrified–into Jamie’s chest.

They walked amongst the stalls, talking contentedly of Jamie’s day at Fernacre, Claire’s day at the hospital, and so on. Claire still seemed quieter than usual. Just as Jamie was about to put Bree down so that he might hold Claire close and ask what was amiss, Bree suddenly lurched her body toward the opening of the next stall and whispered. “Daddy! Is–horzzis is–’im sleepin’?”

“Oh, aye,” he said, encouraged by her interest, “that’s wee Valkyrie. And aye, she’s taking a nap. Here,” he said, opening the door and stepping gingerly inside, “shall we bid her hello?”

“No-oooo!” Bree began to squeal as they approached the horse, twisting in his arms to get away.

“Whisht, whisht, be still, a chuisle, there’s naught to be afraid of.” Holding Bree tight—the lass would have to get accustomed to horses, and that’s all there was about it—he knelt down next to the jet-black mare, reaching out a hand to gently rub her neck.

Val, who was evidently only dozing, whuffed in acknowledgement, and Bree actually giggled at the resultant spray of wind and spittle. She then froze and looked up at Jamie, thoroughly stricken, evidently taken aback by her own delight and in complete indecision over how to act with this monster. Bless her heart, there were tears already building in her eyes.

“See, lovey, it’s a nice horse,” Claire said quickly, seeing the impending meltdown and settling next to them, holding their Thermos of coffee. “What does the horsey say, pumpkin?”

Bree, eager for diversion, produced a startlingly accurate whinny, and accepted applause with good grace.

With a sudden flash of inspiration, Jamie reached out and laid a hand on the beast’s swollen abdomen. “D’ye ken something else, Bree? This one is a mama horse.”

“Mama-horzz?” she repeated, looking sharply at Claire.

“Aye, sweetheart. That means there’s a baby horse inside.”

“Beebee horzz…” she whispered, suddenly enraptured. Bravely, she slipped down from Jamie’s arms onto the ground and, stepping closer to the huge, recumbent body, laid both hands on the jet-black hide next to his. A moment later, she looked up in her usual business-like manner. “Munna lookint th-beebee-horzz, m’okay, Da?”

“No, lass,” he laughed, “we canna look at the babe, yet. She has to stay inside her mama to grow big and strong, first. Then when the right time to be born comes, the wean will––”

With a jolt of realization, Jamie snapped his head around to Claire.

Her courses would have started today—unless she were—

Claire met his eye directly….and shook her head.

“Oh, lass,” he moaned softly, his heart breaking to see the sadness and disappointment in her face, to feel the sorrow in his own heart. He reached for her, pulling her close.

“I know it’s foolish…,” she said, her voice quivering as she wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed against his shoulder. “There’s no reason it should have happened on the first month…I just can’t help but feel the… loss.”

“It’s no’ foolish, Claire,” he said, being obliged to release one arm from around her to intercept Brianna, who—startled by a sudden shifting from Val—had scurried back, anxiously scrabbling against him. He held them both, but squeezed Claire tightest. “But dinna fash, mo ghraidh: ‘tis only a matter of time.”