#(-MURDERED SOME OF HIS PEOPLE???? AND BROKE INTO HIS HOME???? ON CORONATION DAY????)

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[space-helen]

Chances

Words: 2018

Pairing: Greg Sanders x OC

A/N: I’ve never written a cross oc before but I had fun!

Request:  Hi! Can we have a Greg Sanders x Oc? I'd like to read Greg meeting a girl and having a date with her and after that knowing that she is the new coroner assistant! - Anon

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The man downed the last part of his drink and sighed. Peering, around one last time he defeatedly checked his phone before calling over the waiter. “Can I have the bill please.”

The waiter nodded before disappearing again. Greg pulled his wallet out of his pocket and played with it on the table as he waited in the semi-busy restaurant, a presence looming next to him made him look up.

“Hi.” A woman was standing next to his table, he could tell she didn’t work here by the way she was dressed. She was pretty and had a friendly, light appearance.

“Hi?” he replied with a slight smirk.

The woman hesitated as the man quirked his eyebrow, amused at what was happening. “I know this is totally bizarre but you’ve been stood up right?”

He scoffed and sat back in his chair  “How could you tell.” 

“I’ve been waiting for my friend and she didn’t show up either. She’s not very reliable. I just noticed you’ve been here waiting probably as long as I have and like me, you’re ready to throw in the towel.” she began to play with her hands, she was nervous.

“That’s a pretty good observation.” he gestured to the chair opposite him offering her the seat.

“It pays to take notice of things.”

“You can say that again.” he laughed, if only she knew what he did for a living. “I’m Greg.” he offered her his hand

“Avri.” she happily shook the man's hand.

“Pretty name.”

“My mums a fan of birds.”

“And she didn’t want to go for something like Dove or Robin.” he joked, his playful smile pulling at his lips.

“Too obvious, she likes to be subtle. I’m kinda glad though.” she draped her jacket over the back of the chair.

“Why’s that?”

“I hate birds.” She shrugged, pulling in her chair and getting properly comfortable. 

The man laughed as the waiter returned with the bill. “Here you are Sir.”

Greg smiled, “would you like a drink?” he offered the woman.

“Sure” he gestured for her to order and he did the same, both ordering non-alcoholic drinks as they had to drive.

“I’m sorry for the hassle. I’ll pay at the end of the night.” Greg blushed, slightly embarrassed.

The waiter just smiled “It’s totally ok.”

The two were soon left alone again. “Is there anything interesting about your name then?” the woman enquired.

“I have some Norwegian heritage, my middle name is Hojem.”

“That’s so much cooler than the bird connection.”

“Not really.” The man blushed further “So are you new in town or?”

“Yeah pretty new, I grew up here, moved away and now I’m back. I was supposed to be meeting my childhood best friend tonight and as I said, she’s really not too reliable these days. She keeps cancelling coffee dates but I really thought tonight she wouldn’t”

“I know I have no right to say this but maybe you should reconsider the sort of friends you keep.”

She smiled at the man’s comment “Most of my other friends are busy with work, which is understandable, I will be as well from tomorrow, and they all have work friends who they’re closer too. It’s not their fault it’s mine for moving away. Hopefully I can make some work friends.”

The waiter was now back delivering their drinks before leaving them alone again. “It’s not your fault.” Greg said as Avri took a sip of her drink. “People change and move on and honestly, if they’re not making the effort they’re not worth your time. I can guarantee you’ll make work friends in no time.”

She nodded and put her glass down “Thank you. I mean I have other friends that I can talk to daily but it would be nice to just have someone to hang out with you know?”

“Yeah I know.”

The rest of the night went quickly, non alcoholic drinks flowing and the two really hit it off, clearly enjoying each other's company, their laughs echoed through the air and Greg's brown eyes were sparkling.

The woman noticed the time and sighed “I think I better go. First day at a new job tomorrow after all.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I’ve got a long shift” 

Greg called over the waiter and they settled the bill, Avri insisted on covering her costs, Greg smiled and said smoothly “Fine, as long as you let me walk you back to your car.”

“Deal.” she grinned.

The two walked back to their cars, coincidentally parked not far from one another. Avri broke the comfortable silence “I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

“Same.” Greg hesitated “I’d like to do it again if you’re down.”

“That sounds good to me. After all, there’s no better way to make new friends.” Avri unlocked her car “I’m glad we met tonight.”

“I am too. Who knows, it might even have been fate.” The man laughed, Avri echoed him.

“Let me give you my number.” 

Greg passed the woman his phone and she quickly sent herself a text message before handing it back.

“Let me know when you get home?” the man suggested.

“Ever the gentleman.” she teased slipping into her vehicle.

The man walked over to his own car and waved, she waved in return and was soon pulling out of the parking lot. Her head was rushing, she’d never been that bold before. Six months ago she would never have approached a stranger but something told her she had too. Maybe it was the man’s friendly aura paired with his attractiveness? Maybe it was the similar situation they were both in? She wasn’t sure but his charm, kindness and humour had definitely intrigued her more.

Greg slipped into his own car and rested his head back on the headrest. Tonight wasn’t the blind date he’d expected but it turned out to be a much more enjoyable time. Unlocking his phone he quickly messaged the blind date ‘I don’t think we’re going to work.” the recipient quickly saw the message and there was no reply. 

Laughing he blocked and deleted the contact, he should have known. They hadn’t really hit it off and this always happened to him. Nick had just teased him about not having gone on a date in a while.

Tossing his phone on the passenger's seat he started the engine and made the trip home.

Just as he fell asleep he felt like he was opening his eyes again. Rolling out of bed he could see a message from Avri on his phone ‘got home, sorry for the late message I fell asleep’ he smiled and replied ‘don’t worry. I fell asleep pretty soon after I got home too.’

Making himself a coffee he sipped it while he caught up on the news and grabbed something to eat. 

Upon finishing his coffee he switched off the TV showered and got dressed for his shift. Making himself some food to take with him just before leaving.

The beginning of his shift went very quickly. Greg was assigned a mysterious body left for dead in an alley-way. The body at first glance had no extensive injuries but had clearly been mugged.

The body was quickly removed to be autopsied and Greg was left to process the scene. 

It didn’t take long to process and he was soon back in the lab, sorting the evidence to be processed and was soon walking down to the morgue.

“Super-dave what do you have for me?” he announced as he walked through the doors.

“Some very exciting news.” he announced. Greg’s eyes were on the body immediately and he didn’t even notice that there was someone else in the room. “But first I want you to meet Avri Mills, she’s the new assistant. She actually helped a lot with this one.”

Upon hearing the woman’s name his head whipped up and met the woman’s eyes. 

As she moved from the filing cabinet she nodded to him knowingly and greeted him. He did the same and smiled. Neither of them alerting David to the fact they knew each other, both acting very professional.

“Do you want to explain this one?” David asked Avri. 

She smiled “Your guy here didn’t die from the mugging. He died from pulmonary edema, or secondary drowning.”

“That explains the chlorine smell.” Greg noted

David cut in “Your vic must have gone swimming beforehand then made it far enough to get mugged and drop dead.”

“Poor guy.” Greg commented. The three of them discussed more information and soon the briefing was over “Well thank you both”

“No, thank you.” David added he turned to Avri “A fun first body for you in Vegas” he laughed

“It sure was, certainly put me to the test.” Avri replied, turning back to some paperwork on the counter.

Greg smiled and thanked them both again before moving back to the main lab. He couldn’t believe what had just happened but at the same time weirder things had happened. He laughed to himself at how ridiculous it was that neither of them saw this coming, they both clearly had similar interests and spoke about their jobs in similar ways but hadn’t asked one another what they did for a living.

He was quickly able to find the pool the victim had attended and found CCTV footage of him there. The whole event was overall tragic and there was nothing they could really do. No one was at fault. Finding the guys who mugged him was harder but he was soon able too.

Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket he slipped it out. Spotting that the message was from Avri his heart leaped. ‘Meet me in an hour? Parking lot? I’m parked next to David in his usual spot.’

The man smiled at the message ‘Sure. See you there.’ 

The next hour went really quick, the evidence had gone through quickly and he soon had the two teens who mugged the vic in custody, there wasn’t much that could be done since they hadn’t murdered the guy but they’d do some time for the robbery.

Walking out of the parking lot he spotted Avri immediately, smiling he made his way over and she opened her arms, inviting him in for a quick hug, he accepted. The hug was brief, friendly, and he was soon moving away. “Crime Scene Investigator huh?”

Greg laughed “You could have said this was your new job.”

“Well ‘I work with dead bodies’ didn’t really come up in conversation last night and you didn’t exactly ask what I did for a living.”

“Touche.” he laughed leaning up against her car next to her and shoving his hands in his pockets “What are the chances.”

“I have no clue but it’s hilarious if you ask me.” she smiled to herself “Looks like I have a work friend after all.”

“Oh David? Yeah he’s lovely.” Greg joked and she nudged him in the arm.

“You, silly. David is great too though, super friendly.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll make plenty more. Have you met anyone else yet?”

“Not really, bodies have been pretty slow so far. We have one due in a little bit though, hence the five minute break now.”

Greg nodded “Slow for a change. I’ve just wrapped on the case so I’ll probably end up assisting another.”

Avri smiled brightly and admired the man’s profile but her phone going off tore away her gaze. “That’s David. I probably should be getting back.”

Greg smiled “That’s fine. Text me later and let me know how your day went?”

“Sure.” the woman hesitated. “Unless you want to grab something to eat after?”

A smile pulled at Greg's lips “That sounds good to me. I’ll meet you out here? I can take you to the place we all usually go.”

She beamed and quickly pecked Greg on the cheek “See you later.” 

The man started to blush as she jogged back into the building.

He shook his head and smiled. Unbelievable, the whole thing was unbelievable but he was grateful either way.

Tag List: (open)

Greg Sanders:

CSI:

[strangeradventuresofp]

emotions (klaus x reader)

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals - 1

warnings : implied sexual assault, swearing

word count : 3984

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

A/N : hey so !!! i’ve wanted to write a canon fic for so long but it took me a while to establish a story line and i haven’t completely finished it yet but i hope you like this!! kinda long and it’s basically just the first episode as in introduction but i rly hope you enjoy it!!<3 xo p

On the 12th hour of the first day of October, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

~~~

Your eyes flashed with horror as you looked down at the man in front of you, sprawled out on the path. His limbs were mangled and the pool of blood beneath him rapidly increased as it leaked out of his body. Glancing down, you noticed that upon your shaking hands were red stains, and your mouth turned dry while you walked away, shoving your hands in your pockets. Hopefully no one would find him, and if they did hopefully no one would find your fingerprints on his skin, after all, you didn’t even remember doing it. You felt bad, perhaps he didn’t deserve to die, only be injured. Your mind battled with itself as you remember how he had touched you and cornered you into the alleyway. How his fingers dragged and raked across your flesh and grabbed mercilessly at your clothing. He deserved it.

Murdering people wasn’t new to you. You had been forced to do it when you were a child, in an attempt to create an emotional disconnect from a young age. You didn’t hate doing it. Some people deserved it. You just hated that most times you didn’t know you had killed someone; you had lost control and adrenaline consumed your entire body and mind.

The door to your apartment faced you as you pulled up short, checking every pocket for your keys, trembling still as you managed to push them into the lock after numerous previous tries. You used your elbow to push the handle down, hauling open the door with your body weight, kicking it closed. The bag you carried dropped to the floor at the sound of the door closing, and you made straight for the bathroom, ready to wash away the awful day that you had had.

It wasn’t long before you stepped out of the shower, drying your body off and changing. A towel was still in your hands and you continued to pat down your hair as you trudged into your living room, feet grazing along the wooden floor. The noise of the TV droned in and out of your ears, combing through your dampened hair.

“…Little bit of rain potentially, later in the week…” The refrigerator door opened when you pulled it, your fingers reaching out for a carton of orange juice. The glass filled as you poured in the juice and began drinking from it.

“We’re going now live to a breaking story,” you lowered your glass from your lips before dragging your tongue across them, picking up what was left as you turned towards the TV. “Moments ago, police reported the death of the world’s most eccentric and reclusive billionaire, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.” Your heart startled at the words, and you felt unsure of whether to be relieved or not. Although he was your Father, he was never a Dad to you. He had created a robot, Grace, which you were expected to call Mom, and she looked after you, because Reginald could never be bothered. You often thought of what your ‘biological mother’ would be like and maybe you would have felt more comfortable if you had never been adopted. Obviously, you knew that was untrue. She had given you away for a suitable compensation, although she had never meant to give birth in the first place. But, you really enjoyed the thought of having a completely different life.

You had hardly spoken to any of your siblings for a while. Once in a while you received a call from Diego, just checking to see how you were. Sometimes Vanya phoned but it was very rare. Allison was always too busy with her movie, you wondered if she would even turn up for the funeral. Klaus hadn’t been seen in a long time, and Luther was still on the moon. You had been close with them when you were younger, but now it felt weird to be so intimate with each other’s lives after you had all left the academy; talking felt forced and uncomfortable so you avoided it at all costs. It was going to be different again after the funeral. You would all be expected to keep in touch, something you honestly didn’t care to do. Though it might be nice to see them again, you cringed just imagining it.

Soon, you shuffled off to your bedroom, turning out all of the lights on the way there. As you lay down, pulling the blanket over your body, you sighed, pinching in between your brows before closing your eyes and willing yourself off to sleep.

~~~

The pavement scuffed your shoes as you lazily made your way from your cab to your childhood home, breathing deeply while the cold air hit your face. Just as goose bumps prickled your skin, you found yourself wrapping your fingers around the metal gate, your feet stepping up the concrete stairs, face to face with the door. Suddenly you remembered how small you still felt against the mansion’s profile. Your nose burnt as you took one last deep breath, thrusting open the entrance, stepping inside.

Your eyes immediately scanned every inch of the lobby, and they rolled as you noticed that everything was exactly the same. The chandelier still hung at the same height, gently swinging left to right, right to left. The lights were still very dim and still flickered occasionally. The windows behind the staircase still allowed light to gleam through the ornate balustrade. The pillars holding up the second floor were still separated by wooden archways. The circular table still stood in the centre of the space; its feet lay on the partially patterned floor. The rest of the floor was still filled with the ugly black and white tiles that remain dull even after being polished. Nothing had changed.

Slowly, your feet took you into the living room, your eyes darting around to scan for something different once again. The fire still roared in the fireplace. The fireplace was still surrounded by the mantelpiece, Five’s portrait dangling high above it. The couches were still the same red, the table, the stools, and the bar, even the contents of the bar hadn’t changed a bit.

“Miss Y/N.” Your head whipped around as your eyes met those of who the voice belonged to, and you smiled.

“Hey, Pogo. How are you doing?” Your question brought a smile to the chimpanzee’s face and he moved over towards you, leaning on his walking stick. He hadn’t changed, either, apart from a few tufts of hair beginning to turn grey on his chin. He still possessed a set of glasses, a red overcoat with a purple waistcoat, and a red and blue patterned tie. He owned other ties, but that was always your favourite. You leaned down to hug him, which he returned immediately, pulling away after a few seconds.

“Is anyone else here?”

“I am aware of Master Diego's presence, although the others I haven’t seen, yet.”

“Thanks, Pogo.”

~~~

“What exactly are you looking for?” Luther spun around to see you leant against the door frame of your Dad’s bedroom, with your arms folded, brows knitted together. “They’re all locked. Diego already checked.”

“No forced entry, no sign of struggle. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Diego’s figure moved past you, entering the room that Luther seemed to be inspecting, leaning down slightly to get a better look as he neared him. “Oh, you got big, Luther.”

“Understatement.” You snorted, chipping in.

“What’s the secret, huh? Protein shakes? Low carbs?”

“What do you want?” Luther frowned as his arms were brought up slightly, gesturing his confusion as to why Diego was teasing him. His brows furrowed more as Number 2 stretched for his back pocket, silence filling the room for just a moment. He held a creased, folded piece of paper in his hand, extending his arm out to Number 1.

“The autopsy report. I broke into the coroner’s office.”

“Well, that was stupid.” Your hand found its way to your hip as you stared in disbelief at him, who was now sitting down, way too comfortable. He shrugged at you, before continuing.

“Surprise, surprise, Dad’s death was… normal. Just boring old heart failure.”

“Yeah, so?” The larger boy asked as he scanned over the piece paper after opening it.

“So, stop looking for something to prove that it wasn’t.” Luther’s eyes looked over to you, annoyance clearly present in your voice. “He’s dead. That’s it. No mystery.” You pushed yourself off the door frame before walking down the hall, hearing Luther and Diego mumbling to each other still, not knowing exactly what they’re saying, and not exactly caring. They were annoying to listen to, one always trying to outdo the other. The truth was, Diego didn’t like being Number 2, and Luther liked being Number 1 too much. He always thought that because he was Number 1 it made him the leader, but it didn’t. It was something that irked all of you, but Diego felt it the most. You couldn’t stand their pointless bickering when you were children and you certainly couldn’t stand it now.

It had been a few years short of a decade since you had left the academy, but it honestly felt like you hadn’t been gone at all. You had expected some sort of a change to have been made, but then again, you expect too much. The interior design was outdated and sickening to look at. It reminded you of everything that had happened when you were children.

Stepping along the hallway, numerous paintings, all very similar, caught your eye. The famous family portraits. The first contained all of you, apart from Vanya. She wasn’t ever included in things like that. The way her eyes turned sad whenever your Dad told her there was nothing special about her broke your heart. The second was the same, excluding Number 5; taken after he had jumped through time and not returned. It had been 16 years, more or less, and he still hadn’t returned. You often wondered if he was even alive, wherever he was. It was safe to say you had a fear of losing people after what had happened to Five. The third contained five of the children, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus and you. It had been taken a few weeks after Ben had passed – something you hated to remember; it made your entire body ache.

You peeled your eyes away from the paintings, looking down. Tears glossed over your eyes as your mind flooded with thoughts about what had happened that day. It was horrifying. The way it happened had been completely erased from your memory. It all happened so quickly. All you can remember was seeing his lifeless body spread out on the floor. Your Mom had tried to save him, but in the end, there was nothing she could have done. Pogo had sat you all down in the lounge and broke the news to you. That day was one of the most miserable.

“Y/N? Hey, are you okay?” You hadn’t even realised you had started crying; not expecting to get so emotional, it was never a good thing for you. Looking up through misty eyes, you saw Klaus, frowning instantly, moving away when he stepped towards you. “Still mad at me?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously while you rolled your eyes, angrily swiping at the loose tears that had fallen onto your face.

He hadn’t changed. His hair was the same length and texture. His facial hair looked as if it hadn’t grown the tiniest bit. His eyes were still that gorgeous green colour and were paired with slight bags underneath. He still wore those pants with the gaps in the side that you loved to wear, and the battered sneakers that you would have thought were his only pair of shoes. A bushy coat wrapped itself around his shoulders, hugging around the top of his body and the shirt he wore ended just below his belly button, exposing a thin strip of his flesh.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fi—“

“I said I’m fine!” Klaus winced, nodding slightly before strolling down the stairs, glancing up at you after every couple of steps.

Huffing, you walked into your old bedroom, lying down and closing your eyes, calming down as you focused on your breathing. You hated that it still got you so riled up after so long, groaning in frustration as you tried not to think about it. You clenched and unclenched your fists every few seconds, breathing in sync.

Children behave, that’s what they say when we’re together.

A smile slowly crept onto your face as you heard the familiar words, sitting up. It was something you and your siblings listened to often, when your Dad wasn’t around. Smile turning to a grin, you stood, moving your arms and feet in time with the music. Nothing mattered at that moment. You weren’t thinking about Five, or Ben, or Klaus. You weren’t thinking about anything, just losing yourself in the music.

I think we’re alone now. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.

I think we’re alone now. The beating of our hearts is the only sound.

The music stopped as quickly as it had started as everything suddenly went dark, the sound of thunder clapping so loud, as if it was outside your door. Gasping, you threw your door open, rushing downstairs as fast as you could, opening the door to the courtyard, eyes widening at the sight of blue electricity. Soon enough, your siblings joined you outside, confused looks plastered on all of your faces. Diego stood protectively in front of you, Luther by his side, Allison holding his hand.

“Don’t get too close!” Allison exclaimed, worry coating her voice.

“Yeah, no shit.” Diego replied, brows furrowing at what stood in front of you all.

“Out of the way!” Klaus came running out of the house, pushing past all of you, holding a fire extinguisher in his arms, attempting to spray what looked like a temporal anomaly, or a miniature black hole, one of the two. He rolled his eyes as it did nothing, throwing it instead, watching as it was consumed by the blue.

“What is that gonna do?”

“I don’t know. D’you have a better idea?” You reached out, latching onto Klaus’ sleeve, pulling him back to where you were standing. He looked over his shoulder, flashing you a smile before looking forward once again. Just as you clutched his wrist, a boy hit the floor, wearing a suit that was much too big for him, the electricity fading away quickly afterwards. He groaned, stood, and dusted off his suit, and your jaw dropped, feeling your heart miss a beat.

“Does anybody else see little Number 5 or is that just me?” Klaus questioned as you lunged forward, pulling Five into a tight hug, a couple of tears escaping your eyes as he returned the embrace. He looked exactly the same as he did when he left so, had he not aged? Was he permanently going to stay a 13 year old, now? So many questions raced through your mind at a lightning speed, but you really couldn’t care. Your brother was finally home.

Shortly after, you had all made your way in the kitchen. You perched on the side of the table, beside Klaus and the rest of your siblings, watching Five collect the things to make a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, a cutting board and knife already laid out on the table.

“What’s the date? The exact date.” The boy abruptly asked, and a couple of your siblings turned to look at each other in confusion.

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.” His eyes flickered for a moment, as if in concern, but you shrugged it off after realising nobody else had noticed.

“So… Where did you go?” Your voice came out a lot more nervously than you had meant it to, afraid of what his answer would be, in case he said something bad.

“The future. It’s shit by the way.”

“Called it!” Klaus looked up at you after yelling out and you frowned, almost as if scolding him for speaking when it wasn’t his turn. As the others spoke, you watched Five intensely, with a burning curiosity about what he saw in the future, wondering how bad it could actually have been. After all, Five didn’t look like he had done too bad for himself during whatever it was that he went through. But something about him was off. His eyes looked dull, like he’d been traumatised by one thing or another, like he had seen it all. Your body shivered imagining all the things that he could’ve seen.

~~~

The rain pattered on the concrete whilst you advanced once again into the courtyard. Looking around, you noticed the statue that stood in the centre and looked to the floor, sighing as Klaus gently pulled you along by your sleeve, an awkward but genuine smile passing between the two of you. Being mad at him was the least of your worries right now.

“Did something happen?” Your mother held her umbrella, a smile plastered on her seamless face, the same smile she always wore. Her eyes glanced around at you and your siblings, whose eyes also gazed around to look at each other. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your own umbrella tightly, angry at her for even asking the question. Your jaw clenched and your other hand balled itself into a fist before Klaus nudged you subtly and you relaxed, his eyes searching yours as a look of distress fell over his face, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips.

“Dad died, remember?” Allison tilted her head at your mother, watching her terrifyingly realistically happy face fall into one of sympathy. Diego turned to face her in alarm as her red lips turned downwards.

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

The sound of footsteps allowed you to look away from your Mom, instead watching Pogo as he joined you and your siblings in the courtyard. Luther held your Dad’s urn and looked towards the chimpanzee just as Klaus sparked up another cigarette, this one looking just as miserable as the last.

“Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” Number 1 took a deep breath at Pogo’s instructions, waiting a few seconds before extending his arm up to grasp the lid of the urn, taking off the lid. The metal scraped against itself as Luther dropped the lid-holding hand to his side, tilting the urn 180 degrees. Klaus cringed and you could barely hold back a giggle when the ashes all fell to the floor at once and Luther awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other as Pogo started to speak, but before he could finish, he was interrupted.

“He was a monster.” Your eyes darted to Diego, knowing he was right, but wanting to hear the rest of what Pogo had to say. Klaus let out a breathy laugh and the chimpanzee looked hurt, to which you frowned in empathy. “He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.”

“Diego, stop.” Knowing he was right but knowing it wasn’t the time made your voice waver as you spoke.

“My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it.” Turning your head to look at Klaus, silently begging him to help him shut Diego up. He took a drag of his cigarette before flicking his eyes to you, subtly shaking his head, causing you to look around at your other siblings as your Mom said something, locking eyes with Luther for a brief moment before looking away again. “Look, you wanna pay your respects, go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.”

“You should stop talking now.” Luther warned, allowing you to snap your head up to him, watching the two of them, grasping tightly onto the bottom of Klaus’ coat, sharing a frown with Five before turning to view the scene they had created once again. “Diego, stop talking.”

“He couldn’t even stand the sight of you!” The two began to fight, and your hands tightened around the fabric in anxiety before loosening against your will, earning a look from Klaus after he had decided to egg on the fight happening before you. Trembling, you followed Five inside, whipping your body around when you heard a loud thud of something hitting the concrete, tears welling in your eyes while you watched Ben’s statue fall, hurrying inside before any tears spilt. Your feet reverberated in the empty hall, gasping as Luther came hurrying past you.

“Are you okay?” You hadn’t expected an answer from him, frowning when you saw him seizing his left arm, a cut hiding beneath his hand. Your body rotated, eyebrows puckering when you saw Diego and your mother step through the door. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing bad.”

“You hurt him, Diego.”

“Do you kids want to make cookies?” Storming away at your mother’s request, you fished through your pockets to find your apartment keys, shoving the umbrella on the floor after closing it, leaving as fast as you could, not caring to slam the doors once you had left. Pulling up the hood of your coat, shoving your hands in your pockets, walking away from the house you used to live in. You felt as if your feet were thundering on the pavement, afraid that if you stepped in the wrong place that you could cause the pavement to crack under the pressure.

You only ever saw your siblings at Weddings and Funerals, although you heard that none of you had attended Allison’s wedding. But, then again, what did she expect when she held it in L.A, as if all of you could afford to travel there simply for a wedding and then travel back afterwards. You had no idea why your siblings just couldn’t get on for a few hours at the very least. The tensions irked you like nothing else. You were siblings; you should act like siblings, not enemies.

~~~

Loud, rapid knocking on your apartment door woke you from your sleep and you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose before throwing off the blankets, standing, trudging over to your front door. The knocking stopped and you wrapped your hand around the handle, looking out of the peephole. Opening the door after not seeing anyone, you stepped out to look into the corridor, shrugging when no one seemed to be there.

“You should have locks on your windows.” You let out a squeal as a voice spoke out from behind you, whirling around to see your brother stood in front of you.

“What? How did you—“

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Is that blood?” Glancing down to his red-stained arm, he shrugged off your question before you frowned, standing. “Five.”

Minutes later you joined him back in your lounge, with a first aid kit held in your hands. After pulling his sleeve up, you winced, taking a few minutes to clean his wound before bandaging up his arm, closing the first aid kit as he opened his mouth to speak.

“When I jumped forward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it.”

my masterlist

[lokislittlesigyn]

OG616 : Thor: The Dark World - Pt.1 [Lokasenna]

[My masterlist, where all parts of this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: None. unless you want a warning for sigyn and loki being sad 24/7

Author’s Note: The first part of Thor 2! One of my personal favorite MCU films, and this section of the story has some of my favorite elements, too. I hope you all enjoy it!

Taglist: @high-functioning-lokipath , @onaheroicmission

To be added to the taglist, just ask me here or send a message! <3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sigyn anxiously awaited Thor and Loki's return. The days felt like eons. She found herself constantly listening, constantly looking for him and Loki. Every night she struggled to sleep and each morning, she would rush to see if they’d arrived.

Loki is alive, She repeated to herself yet again, He's alive and he's coming home to me.

She paced around her room, fiddling with her necklace. The chain had been replaced from constant use, but the symbol remained intact. It was afternoon, now, and she had already prepared their chambers, as she did every morning - making sure everything was exactly as it had been before Loki left, down to the book he’d read the night before the coronation, a velvet bookmark still holding his place. Untouched. Sacred.

She pressed the pendant to her lips, closing her eyes.

"I love you. I miss you." She muttered, her voice shaky. "And I will see you again soon."

~~~~

A few days later, Sigyn walked through the palace’s golden halls, on her way to visit Heimdall and see if Thor was any closer to returning. As she walked, she heard a distant, low voice.

"Return this to the weapon's vault," Thor commanded. He sounded safe. Unharmed. "Do as you will with him."

Sigyn's breath caught in her chest.

He's home.

She grabbed fistfuls of her sapphire dress, racing toward the noise. Echoes carried through the halls, and she hung onto every word she could make out.

"Allfather Odin requests you report to Vanaheim at once, my prince.”

“Very well.”

Sigyn's heart pounded in her ears. Her stomach formed knots.

Faster. Faster!

She pushed herself, sprinting as quickly as she could. Loki hadn't spoken yet.

Let him be safe. Please let him be safe.

"Princess, are you well?" A wary servant called after her. "Princess?"

Sigyn slowed, "Loki is back; I've got to see him!" She shouted back, throwing herself back into a run. She found Thor, but Loki was nowhere in sight.

"Where-" She wheeled around, desperately searching, "Thor, where is-"

"Sigyn, be still." He grabbed her arm, steadying her. "Loki is to be tried for his crimes."

"Crimes? What has he done?"

Thor paused. "A great many things."

"Tell me."

"He murdered hundreds of people, Sigyn. Innocent people. He led an army of Chitauri against Midgard. Corrupted the minds of my friends, tried to turn us against each other - he nearly destroyed an entire city."

Sigyn faltered. Her heart sunk, her shoulders dropping. "He couldn't have.."

"Sigyn, he is not the man you once knew."

She ripped herself from his grip. Thor lowered his hand, watching her. She matched his gaze, and setting her jaw firm, huffed slightly. "I need to see him."

And I need to hear his side of the story, she finished to herself.

He sighed, taking a step back.

"The throne room. Sigyn," He stopped her before she could leave, "Go to him if you must. But I warn you, you may not like what you find."

~~~~

After another short sprint, Sigyn tried a side entrance to the throne room - the main entrance was, predictably, swarming with guards and royals, all barred from the trial. But as she neared the door, she found it too was guarded by Einherjar.

"Oh, not this again! How many times must I fight past you?!" Sigyn glanced at their spears, considering how difficult it would be to simply slip past them...

"Allfather Odin commands the trial remain uninterrupted." One of the Einherjar started, but someone walked up behind Sigyn, taking her hand.

"And Allfather Odin will understand if his wife wishes to see her son. And his daughter, her husband." Frigga. She raised her other hand, and the Einherjar bowed aside.

"Thank you, mother." Sigyn whispered. Frigga smiled, though for only a moment. She looked tired. Worried. Her mouth turned in a frown, her eyes avoiding contact for too long, instead focusing on what lie ahead.

But I probably look the same.

They stopped in the shadow of Odin's throne. "Wait," Frigga cautioned quietly, and Sigyn stepped back, out of sight.

Soon, the clinking of heavy chains brought a new wave of emotion over Sigyn.

Footsteps. She took in a sharp breath.

The sound grew closer.

Her heart beat faster. She clutched her chest.

"Loki." Frigga spoke.

The footsteps stopped. Wait. Wait one moment longer.

"Hello, mother..." Loki.

Sigyn leaned over, keeling from the pain. Covered her mouth to hold back a sob. It had been so, so long since she’d heard that voice...

“...Have I made you proud?"

Sigyn gazed at Frigga. Please. Please, I can't endure this any longer.

"Please, don't make this worse.." Frigga glanced over at Sigyn. She gave a single, firm nod.

"Define worse." Loki retorted, then turned his head in surprise as Sigyn walked up to join Frigga.

Sigyn felt every footstep. Every breath.

Loki.

He looked so... Different. So foreign.

She looked past the chains, past the shackles he was clad in from head to toe.

He seemed taller. Leaner. He looked hungry. His raven locks had grown longer in his time away, now reaching his shoulders in loose curls. His clothing was darker, heavier, fit more for battle than for show.

But most of all, his eyes. His eyes had changed. She once saw in them love and adoration. Mischief. Happiness.

Now she looked into them, and all she could see was pain. It was etched into every inch of him.

Pain and bitter longing.

"Loki," She spoke, and he exhaled a heavy breath, struggling to compose himself. She let a few stray tears fall as her voice wavered. "Loki, what happened to you?"

"Enough." Odin spoke. "I will speak to the prisoner alone."

Frigga stepped back, but Sigyn only moved closer to Loki.

"The prisoner?" She stepped between him and Odin, heart still pounding, mind racing. "He is no more than a prisoner to you now?"

"Sigyn, leave us." Odin's tone grew harder.

"No. This is the prince of Asgard- He is your son!"

"Enough!" Odin shouted, loud enough to make Sigyn tremble, to make Loki narrow his eyes. "You will leave. Now. And you will remain in your chambers until I see it fit to release you."

Sigyn raised her chin, trying to seem brave past her shaking hands. "I will not be-"

"Sigyn,"

She stopped. Turned around.

Loki was watching her, a stoic expression hiding what she could only imagine was a world of pain. He managed out a single word.

"Leave." His tone was low, gentle, but left no room for argument.

She wavered.

Loyal to him. Loyal to him always.

She gave him a final, desperate glance, and obeyed.

His eyes caught sight of her necklace as Frigga led her from the throne room.

~~~~

Sigyn remained in her chambers, as directed, for several days after the trial.

She was no stranger to being kept in this room. But before, she often had Loki with her. She remembered returning to the palace one day after falling off Villieldr - he had spooked on a trail through the woods.

"Stay here, love. Rest." 

Loki had said, sitting her down so he could tend to her bruises and scrapes. "How you manage to get so scuffed up, I hardly know. You’re worse than a child." He mused, waving green magic over her arm. His magic was always more gentle than the healer’s... Not that they were rough, no. But he was careful with her.

"It's not my fault," She’d retorted. “Vill is spirited, that’s all.”

"I don't blame you for it." He finished addressing her wounds, kissing her forehead. "I only wish you were more careful..."

A knock on the door pulled Sigyn from her reminiscing. Frigga stepped in, shutting the door behind herself softly.

"I have spoken with Odin… And he has permitted you leave."

Sigyn watched her, waiting for her to continue. "And?"

"And it would be in your best interest to remain, shall we say, on his good side."

Frigga smirked as a blush crossed over Sigyn's cheeks.

"I'm sorry..."

"I apologized to him on your behalf. He understands your outburst. But you must understand, Sigyn, he’s trying to protect you."

"He shouldn't try to keep me from Loki."

"You may be right." Frigga sighed, "But that is not our place to decide. Please, Sigyn. Stay out of trouble at least a day. I can only convince Odin so many times.."

Sigyn glanced away, shifting her weight.

Staying out of trouble means staying away from Loki, wherever he is.

They stood a moment in silence. Eventually, Sigyn broke it.

“What did the Allfather decide?”

Frigga folded her hands. “...Odin has decided Loki shall be imprisoned for his crimes.”

Sigyn stared at her. “What?”

“I know it’s difficult. He is still your husband, yes, just as he is still my son - but we cannot turn a blind eye to what he has done.”

“I don’t mean to turn a blind eye, I only…” Sigyn sighed, “Isn’t there some other way.. Can he stay with me, maybe here, I could-”

“I don’t think you understand..” Frigga rubbed her hands together, as she often did - and indeed, as Loki did - when she got nervous. “The only reason Loki has been allowed to live is because I vouched for him.”

Sigyn’s blood ran cold. She stepped back, steadying herself with a table.

“He... What was Odin thinking?”

Frigga gave her a pitying look. “Anger has clouded Odin’s judgement - and, I’m afraid, Thor’s as well. They won’t forgive as easily as you and I will.”

Sigyn shook. She wiped her hair back, hand trembling. “He was going to kill him… To kill him.. After all of this, to kick me out and decide Loki’s fate, to give an impossible trial with no one there, no one to speak for him…”

“From what I heard, Loki spoke for himself.” Frigga steadied her. “Hush, child. I’m sorry you’ve been put through this.. But we cannot go against Odin, and we cannot allow Loki to roam free after the crimes he has committed. You must understand, this is the best we can do.”

Sigyn felt tears drift down her cheeks. Felt Frigga envelop her in a hug.

“I-I would have given myself with him..” Sigyn whispered. “Odin would have to go through me to get to Loki.. Better dead than separated...”

“Quiet. Don’t say such things.” Frigga pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. “You must stay strong for him, yes? We mustn’t lose hope. Imprisoned or not, Loki is home. He is safe. And we shall do everything in our power to help him. Perhaps we could send him some things from your room - something to make him feel more comfortable.”

Sigyn wiped some tears away, trying to put on a brave face. Nodded. “That would be good. Is there a limit..? I-I’d hate to choose too much..”

“Choose whatever you think he’d like best. I’ll see what I can do.” Frigga’s eyes sparkled, and she gave Sigyn a small kiss on the forehead before backing away, toward the door.

“I will. Thank you - thank you so much. This will help him. We will help him.” Sigyn smiled.

[youresog0lden]

Josslyn (pt 3) II Spencer Reid

Read part one and two here

WC: 2.4k

A/N: some requested this but this will be the last part! 

Warning: cursing, and normal criminal minds things

 GIF IS NOT MINE !!!

masterlist

By the time you’re reading this it will be my birthday so I decide to write this part and it makes me incredibly happy !!

"Sometimes good thing's fall apart so better things can come in." Marilyn Monroe

Everything happens for a reason. I call everytime I get drunk but obviously you know that. I get drunk to get you off my mind but, it doesn't work. It never works, it does the complete opposite. I think of you, your smile, the way you like your coffee with this weird creamer. The way you only wear a tight long sleeve shirt tight black pants and your clunky docs. You smile every morning even if you're having a bad day. Even though the room is full of profilers. You still act happy. But the alcohol still doesn't make me forget.  I know you get my texts. I need to stop putting you threw this. I should've stopped two years ago. It's been two years. I have had to see you walk into the bullpen like you we're to happiest women on the planet. So, that's why I stopped I love seeing you happy. It almost makes me happy. I know I messed up trust me. I know I should be sorry. I really messed up but, everyday I could go up to you and get on my hands and knees and tell you how incredibly sorry I am and how bad I fucked up. I know I fucked up. It hasn't been the same with JJ and I. I can't stop thinking about the look on your face. It hurt me. I don't even know why I did it. We we're just caught up in the moment. She told me she loves me. Y/n she loves me. But I love you. I should have let it happen but ever since it did I can't stop thinking about you. I see you have a boyfriend, he seems like a nice guy the few times we met. He seem's like he could treat you better than I could. The way he looks at you, with such love. Garcia tell me you love him, and you couldn't see you're self with anyone else. While I admit that hurt I can say that it's good to see you happy. I'm happy for you as long as he doesn't hurt you, that's all that matters. I can tell you love him all you see in your eyes is the sparkle when he talks anyway. I'm sorry I haven't been there. I really want to. I want us to be like we used to be, before prison. But now everything isn't the same. I mean what can I expect. I ruined it but, I am going to let you go. I have to meet my mom in an hour and I'm not even ready.

                                        ~ Love Spencer Reid

I stare at the letter now sitting on my desk. What do I do with it now. Sam's going to be home soon and he'll flip if he reads that letter. Without even thinking I slip it into the holder for mail. He never goes in there. Without thinking I take my food to the couch eating it. Ding. I look at my phone seeing the lovely Emily has texted the group telling them we have a case. I quickly put on my jeans and boots grabbing my to-go bag before grabbing my keys locking up. I get in my car and drive down to the BAU. I swipe my key card going to my desk. Everyone was waiting for Emily and Garcia to walk into the bullpen to tell us to meet them in the conference room. My eye almost on instinct look for Dr. Reid seeing him standing there laughing with Tara. I look around before deciding to talk to JJ.

"Do you know what's going on?" I ask. I never had the right to be mad at JJ she didn't know Reid and I we're together. All she did was fuck up her own marriage and lose her best friend I couldn't be mad at her it wasn't my place. She nods her head no before seeing the bubbly blonde walk in with a tablet in her hand shaking it towards the conference room. We all nod following along except me. I set my bag at my desk and look around.

"Y/n." Garcia calls out.

"Yeah I'm coming." I say. I put the letter in my desk and walk into the room.

"Okay. What do we have." I say taking a seat next to Luke.

"Two dead."

"Meet Tom and Lilly Small."

" A husband and wife. They we're found dead in there home in Atlanta Georgia on Wednesday stabbed brutally fifteen times then shot execution style." Emily stated.

"Do they have any kids?" I ask.

"Yes two sons and a daughter." Garcia says.

"Where were they that night." JJ asked.

"Jason the oldest was at his house with his wife and son. They both can prove and so can there security cams. Zach was at a soccer game on his way home when it happened and Angel was upstairs with rope tied around her but nothing about what happened almost like she was drugged."

"Do we know with what drugs?" Reid questioned.

"A date rape drug called-" Garcia takes a second to look at it.

"gamma-butyrolactone or gbl." she says.

"GBL is a hygroscopic colorless, water-miscible liquid with a weak characteristic odor. It is the simplest 4-carbon lactone. It is mainly used as an intermediate in the production of other chemicals, e.g. methyl-2-pyrrolidone." Reid speaks. We all look at him for a brief second his eyes meet mine but, wanting nothing more than to do with him I look away. Who am I lying to. I am still madly in love with him. I shake my head hearing Spencer speak again.

"It effects the pathway to the brain." he finishes. I nod.

"Okay so she was drugged but how?" I asked.

"We don't but we have to get there soon. We are wanting to believe that the unsub will hurt again. Wheels up in 40." Emily said. All of us exit from the room. I walk to the kitchen with my coffee mug in my hand only to meet the one and only Spencer Reid. I don't say anything I just pull out the pot making sure to fill it with the coffee and sugar. Reid starts to look at me with these big eyes that say a lot. I gave him and unwanted smile and walk away drinking my coffee

----

"Ok Y/L/N, Reid go to the precinct and start the geographical map, Rossi and Tara talk to the family find any information you can out, Alvez you with me we're going to the crime site, after we'll go over to the coroners office." Emily finally finished. All of us nodding going our separate ways. Reid and I make our way towards the car heading down to the station.

----

"There's been a new murder." Emily says threw the phone.

"Where." Reid asked picking up this red marker.

"At Peach Tree Center." she says. He put's his hand on it putting a dot right where his finger is laid. Right then the phone ringed again.

"Hello." I sang.

"Hello my beautiful and my boy genius." Garcia called threw.

"Hi my pretty lady." I said

"Hey Garcia." Reid spoke.

"Okay so I just got a call from the one and only Rossi telling me that the daughter told us that her mom had a kid at 15. I guess she got pregnant early and gave her up for adoption. They just recently got in touch." she finished.

"But you'll never get this." she salted.

"What."

"Her adoptive parents we the family just killed." she finished. Reid and I looked at each other

"Where is she now."

"She is on her way down from New Jersey."

"Mark that." I call to Reid.

----

"Do you want some water." I asked coming into the room She sat there.

"So what part of New Jersey are you from?" I asked her. She  silently sat there still not saying anything.

"Ok, fine. It's in you're right of law not to talk. But you forget that I'm the profiler here. I watched you while you sat in here talking to Dr. Reid, I watched your micro-expressions. I watched as you barley blank when he mentioned the death of your mom. Now seeing that  you barley knew her I didn't expect you to be crying whale tears but for you actual family come on now. Not a single tear?" I questioned.

"Some people grieve different."

"Yes. They do but most people cry when a loved one dies. You know studies have been shown that most people who grieve cry but most psychopaths don't show emotion at all because they don't know how to show that emotion some were never raised into the right home some jsut don't know how." I say sitting down cupping my hands together.

"Now my question is why?" I ask.

"Why what?" she coyly.

"Don't play dumb with me." I smile right back.

"Awe is the Agent getting mad." I laugh

"Did you or did you not kill you're biological mom for giving you up and her kids and husband because they knew the truth and then went and killed you're adoptive parents because they kept this from you." I ask for almost a second you could see she broke. She didn't think I noticed.

"How would you know if I did."

"You made it very easy. You left Angel alive. She told us that she remembers a girl walking into her room and tying her up. She felt comfortable with her at first because this girl looked familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it. That's when Jason came forward and told us that you we're in the picture and that you always gave him an off vibe but, that. That right there wasn't enough to put you away. We had no proof. So we did a background search. You're not from New Jersey. You're from Maine. You're adoptive dad was a drunk and you're adoptive mom was not a mom she was trying to be you're best friend. You felt nothing almost as if you turned your emotions off like that." I snapped.

"Fine. I killed them." she screamed. I smirked and got up, walking out the door. The team was standing out there watching the whole thing there mouths a gaped.

"How-What?" Alvez laughed.

"How did you do that." Tara asked.

"You guys forget that this is why I was hired in the first place I am an amazing interrogator and profiler. " I smile at the lovely people infront of me.

"Hold up someone is calling me." I say walking away pulling out my phone.

"Hello this is SSA Y/L/N."

"Y/n." Sam's voice snapped.

"Oh. Hi my lovely." I smile.

"Where the fuck are you." he spat

"Wait are you with him-" he laughs

"Yes I am with him, and the whole team I work with asshat." I sigh.

"I found the letter." he states. I freeze.

"What are you talking about." I questioned dumbly.

"You know exactly what letter quit playing dumb. Are you going to tell him you love him to. Even after he hurt you?" he laughs bitterly

"I don't love him." I say in a hushed voice.

"Sure." he starts

"You know I hate it when you're with him." then he finished.

"Can you stop being so god damn controlling." I yell causing the looks of my team and a few others. Reid snapping his head first.

"Can you stop being such a bitch." he yells just as loud.

"Maybe I wouldn't be such a bitch if you stopped being so controlling."

"Whatever y/n well talk about this when we get home." I could just tell he was rolling his eyes, I decide to hang up the phone. I walk to the group a few of them letting out uncomfortable coughs. I just sigh.

"Sorry about that." I mumble looking down. They just nod all of us walking our own separate ways. I really need to talk to Spencer. I don't say anything I just kinda walk over to where he's grabbing his bag. Sam will get mad he always does but, I need to talk to him about this.

"Spence." I called him by the nickname. He looks over at me with wide eyes. He starts scrambling until I put my hand on his arm stopping him, and as cliche as it sounds but I felt fireworks. You shouldn't feel this way. It's wrong. I take my hand off his arm sliding them into my pockets uncomfortably.

"What's up."

"We need to talk." I say sternly. The blush rises up on him face.

"About what." he asked seeming to 'forget' about the letter he left me. "I can't stop thinking about the look on your face." He sighs before looking at me.

"Y/N I meant everything I said in that letter."

"I know and I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you. That I'm not mad anymore."

"You're not."

"No. It's been two years I can't stand being mad at you anymore it's tiring. I miss my best friend the one that I had before we started fucking around. I miss your stupid little facts in the morning or the nicknames you would give me. I miss walking hand in hand together into the bull pen. I miss staying up super later watching 'Doctor Who.' I miss you being the person who I can come to for anything. God Spence. I miss every part of you and I really fucked up getting into this relationship. I was just trying to move on and I thought I could but I can't I can't move on. I love you." I say.

"What about you're boyfriend." he almost cringes at the word boyfriend.

"I'm trying to leave him." I say softly.

"Why haven't you yet."

"Because like I said I'm trying to get over you."

"I love you any only you." I said softly.

"I love you." he says just as softly.

"God I love you so much." he finished.

"I'll break up with his as soon as I get home." I say softly. He hums in response. I grab the red tie he's wearing pulling my lips onto his. He wraps his arm around his waist and he wraps his around my waist and suddenly I feel at home.

[trillian-anders]

suspect - i

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, graphic descriptions of crime scenes, angst, slow burn

word count: 5k

description: au detective!bucky barnes x investigative journalist!reader;

still wet behind his ears, detective barnes is given his very first homicide case, a woman no one seems to care about had been murdered. it’s only when investigative journalist reader brings the small details to his attention that he realizes there’s a bigger problem. a serial killer no one was paying attention to.

Cheryl Hansen’s accent was thick, Boston southie. “Are they in bed?” She asked the person on the other end of the line, “I should be home soon. Probably another hour or so.” Her heel scraping against the concrete, arm wrapped around her middle. The temperature had dropped since that morning. A beautiful spring day it had been, just hours before. She took her kids to the park, a rare happy moment in a life she though she’d never find herself in. “I love you.” Spoken softly as a car pulls to a stop beside her, “I’ve got to go, bye-bye.” Her phone screen darkened, the passenger window rolling down. She puts her game face on and leans down to talk to the man sitting in the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t something she particularly liked to do. You could say she didn’t like to do it at all. But it was easy money. It was quick money. It was the only way she could make money. She couldn’t see his face, half covered by a baseball cap which wasn’t out of the norm. A lot of Johns tend to want to cover their faces, the embarrassment of paying for sex. The ‘shamefulness’ of it. A lot of them were like this.

“Get in.” His voice, demanding, aggressive. He wasn’t going to be an easy one, and she knew that. A bad feeling in her gut, she slipped into the passenger seat of the car. The car pulling off from the curb and disappearing into the night.

...

They switched the coffee. Bucky glared down at the bitter cup in his hand before searching through the cabinets above the coffee maker. French roast, he scrunched his nose up at before dumping the cup into the sink and rinsing out his mug. “So no coffee.” He mumbles to himself.

The bullpen was busy today. Already, and it was not a good day. He had three cases worth of paperwork to turn in, his dryer broke last night so his jeans were still damp when he put them on, and his arm was aching today. A storm was coming soon. He was late to work which meant getting breakroom coffee and unfortunately, they’d stocked it with the one kind he didn’t like.

First world problems, sure he tried to rationalize as he sat down at his desk, booting up his computer for the first time that day. His thumb flipped through the large stack of files on his desk, ready to be sorted through and input into the computer. Rubbing his eyes, he realized he’s going to need to go get some sort of caffeine at some point.

“Barnes.” Looking up from his computer, in the doorway of his Captain’s office, Steve Rogers. Long time friend and once partner, now Captain of this precinct. “Can I see you in my office please?”

The man across from him let out a laugh, his fingers playing on his lips, shady eyes glaring over at him from behind his computer screen. “What did you do Barnes?” Rumlow the little shit. Bucky hated working with him. Rumlow fought him for cases, always. Became a detective at the same time as Steve and was sore as hell that Steve got the Captain position over him. He was waiting for the day that Bucky was knocked down a peg or two. “But it’s hard with good old-fashioned nepotism.” Rulmow would jeer. As if Steve was giving him anything special. If anything, Steve had been giving him the short end of the stick.

Bucky had been stuck doing cases easy enough for a beat cop. He’d been begging Steve for something else, but it was always the same shit, “Those cases go to the detectives with more experience.” The homicides. The serial rapists. Granted, they weren’t as prevalent as a common break in or robbery, but he still craved it. Justice was why he became a cop in the first place. He wanted to be tracking down true criminals. Not these schmucks being busted for having an ounce of weed on them, something he didn’t see as much of a problem anyway. He followed Steve into his office, ignoring Rumlow’s comment.

“Shut the door behind you.” Steve said, sitting behind his desk. The glass windows to the bullpen hot on Bucky’s back as he was sure Rumlow was staring him down, trying to see what was going on by the look on Steve’s face.

“What’s going on?” Bucky sunk into the chair opposite. Steve shuffled papers around on his desk before looking up at his friend.

“They found a body in an alley in near lower Washington.” Bucky perked up in his seat. Steve shook his head, “Don’t fuck this up, do you understand me? I’m giving you some real responsibility here.”

“Of course not.” Bucky blew out a huff, “You know how bad I want this Steve.” He rolled his eyes,

“Yeah I know,” Steve leaned back in his chair, “Now get out of here.”

The clouds gave a murky grey light over the streets of Boston. Bucky peered up at them as he exits his car. He rotated his left arm, the muscles sore. There was already caution tape strung up surrounding the alley. Beat cops and people trying to peer into the crime scene.

The body. Fuck the body. Bucky’s stomach churned at the sight. Yes, solving a homicide came with its perks career-wise, but the physicality of it was something he’d yet dealt with. He’s seen his share of bodies as a beat cop. He would have been one of those suckers behind him securing the scene and making sure there was no civilian interference. Keeping all the looky-loos at bay.

That’s the thing though, everyone thinks they want to see a dead body, but when faced with one… it’s much more unsettling. This woman could have been anyone. She could have been Becca, his sister. She could have been Peggy, Steve’s wife. She could have been anyone. But that’s not saying that there wasn’t a stigma with it.

“It’s a hazard of the occupation.” Rumlow would spit at him later, “Nothing more than another dead prostitute.”

“Sex worker.” Bucky would correct him. And now squatting next to the body, looking upon her corpse. “Victim.”

She was flat on her back. Spread eagle on the ground. Naked. Her eyes blankly staring up at the sky. Her makeup was smeared across her face. She’d been crying. Ligatures around her neck, no doubt that she had been strangled to death. And the one strange thing, the one souvenir taken from her body. Her ring finger cut at the joint. And missing.

“Look who they let out of the bullpen.” A snarky voice from behind him, he peered over his shoulder. “I brought you a coffee.” Natasha Romanov. Assistant DA. No doubt the one assigned to this case, even though they both know it won’t go anywhere. No one cared about a dead sex worker, and the girls she worked with wouldn’t speak to cops. Bucky resented Steve for giving him this case. Immediately.

“Thank you.” Taking the coffee and stepping over to her side.

“What do you think?” Natasha asked, gesturing toward the body. Bucky took a sip of his coffee, bringing himself back online and feeling okay for the first time that morning, considering. He shakes his head.

“It’s a shame.” He takes another sip, “Guys just get to mow down these girls like they’re nothing. And no one will probably ever go to jail for this.” She nods,

“Sucks that they gave it to you.” Bucky sighs. Yeah, it does. “Well, I have to get back to the office, but let me know if you find anything.”

“Thanks again for the coffee.” He watches her go. The coroners waiting for him to give the okay to take the body for autopsy. He nods, stepping back and out of the way.

Whoever killed this poor girl obviously thought very little of her, having her spread open that way, discarded in an alley like trash. It stirred something raw in Bucky’s gut.

When he got back to the precinct he sat heavily in his chair, rubbing his eyes and typing the woman’s name into the computer. He’d have to tell her family, if they had any. Maybe she had priors.

And she did.

Her face pulled up on his screen. Cheryl Hansen. The life in her eyes. Miserable, but she was there. Alive, and she was arrested for drug possession, solicitation for sex work twice, she had a restraining order on an ex-boyfriend. Maybe he could start there.

But first thing’s first. Next of kin.

“She was a pretty little thing huh?” Bucky turned and glared at the man behind him.

“You’re disgusting.” Bucky spat, scribbling down her address and then typed in the ex-boyfriend’s name.

“I’ve got eyes.” Rumlow parried. “Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean she wasn’t hot.”

“Have some respect.” The ex-boyfriend’s face loads, his rap sheet longer than hers and littered with domestic calls and assault charges. A good lead. A great lead to be completely honest. The way she was murdered was violent and passionate. Intimate almost.

Cheryl lived in a bad part of town which wasn’t surprising. Bucky remembered on going on more than one domestic call here in his time on the beat, it was dirty, not too well kept. But it was cheap and it’s hard to find somewhere cheap to live in Boston. His knuckles rapt against the door. A shuffling heard from behind. The door opened, chain still locked into place and a hazel eye showed in the crack.

“Can I help you?” Cheryl’s Mother. He swallowed, anxious about what was about to follow.

“I’m Detective Barnes with Boston PD.” His badge held up for her to see. “I’m here to talk to you about your daughter, Cheryl Hansen?” The door shut and a scramble for the chain before it was pulled open. A baby on her hip.

“Did something happen to her?”

This was the worst part of the job. The despair. He was serving her with the death of her child. The death of her daughter. Cheryl had two kids. One just barely over a year, the other three years old. Two beautiful baby girls that no longer had their Mother.

Cheryl’s mom, Sophie sat across from him, sobbing. He didn’t know what to do. This isn’t something that ever got easier. A box of tissues stolen from the coffee table, sat between them at the small kitchenette. Her head in her hands, crying. He tried to comfort her. He did. Hand on her shoulder, but it was best to just let them cry it out. It was all you could really do.

“I’m sorry,” he says, knowing it won’t make it any better, “I’m going to do everything I can to find the person responsible for this, but I need you to tell me if there’s anyone you know who would want to hurt her.”

“She told me she was a waitress.” Sophie sniffled. “She told me—” A hiccup.

“I know this is difficult.” He scoots his chair closer, “But Cheryl needs us to help find her killer.” Sophie’s eyes red, body trembling as she met his gaze.

“Uh, Michael Hale.” The ex-boyfriend. Sophie sniffles and hiccups again. “He used to really hurt her.”

“Later on, a woman named Natasha Romanov should be by.” He says, “She’s going to want to ask you similar questions and she’ll help you get in touch with grief counselling and how to take steps legally for guardianship of the kids, I’ve informed her of the situation.” Sophie nods, taking the little business card with his number scribbled on the back. “If there’s anything you need at all, call me at this number.”

“We used to call her Cherry.” She sniffs, staring at the card. “That’s her nickname.” Her eyes met his, crying and obviously distraught. “People may not know her name is Cheryl. That’s all.”

With Sophie telling him that Michael Hale would be someone who would hurt Cheryl he had everything he needed to bring him in.

“Natasha.” He spoke into the receiver. “I sent you an email with the information I’ve gathered so far, I need you to look into Michael Hale, call me back when you get this.”

This neighborhood. Even as he stood out on the street, his car feet away. He was getting looks. He didn’t belong here and that was clear. He flipped his phone between his fingers, taking one last look around before slipping into the driver’s seat of his car and pulling away.

A few minutes into his drive Natasha’s name lit up on his dashboard. A button pressed on his steering wheel answered the call.

“Autopsy report should be in tomorrow morning at the latest,” She said, “I’m processing a warrant for Michael Hale, I think we have enough to at least bring him in for questioning, see what he was doing last night, but I think you should head back to the station.”

His brow furrowed, “Why is that?”

“There’s a reporter poking around, asking to talk to you. She’s… persistent.”

…

It had been a slow news day all in all. Not much going on outside of upcoming elections and the same silly little fluff pieces about a new animal coming to the Franklin Park Zoo or a kid selling lemonade real nostalgic like in their front yard raising money for one of their sick classmates. A shooting in Chinatown or a robbery here or there. A quaint little town just outside of Boston ‘shaken’ by whatever crime people were nonplussed about in big cities.

But it got your attention. Cheryl Hansen.

It showed up as a little blip on your radar. The way you followed the leads before. Maybe this time.

Maybe this time.

“Hey Sam.” Your editor. The big man behind the desk. “Let me take this.” He was wearing his glasses, reading emails when you showed up in his doorway. A printout of the police report, not much information to go on, but he would know. He would know why you wanted it. The paper plucked from his desk and he adjusted his glasses to read it, eyes gazing over the top rim at you.

“A murdered sex worker?” He asked, “Y/N…”

“Listen, Sam…” You slipped into the chair across from him, “We could get ahead of this, look at the details.” The detective’s notes. How the body was found. Where it was found.

But was her ring finger gone?

“Y/N…” Sam sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “The last time you fell down this rabbit hole it wasn’t good for you.” You remember. The hangovers were hell. The stress. The migraines. “I don’t think—”

“Sam it’s him.” You know it is. You can feel it in your gut. “I know it.” He looked at you, silently debating for a moment before saying,

“You can talk to the detective, get a short comment. Nothing more.” The paper thrown back on the desk between you. “Less than 300 words and I mean it. I don’t want you pulling out the red string.” You felt your jaw clench but willed yourself to relax.

“Thank you.” The paper hastily grabbed from between you and you took your exit, barely grabbing your jacket before running out the door.

Your heart raced when you saw that police report. This could be it. It could be the clues you’d been waiting for.

“Hi, I would like to speak to Detective Barnes.” The man at the front desk of the police station glanced up at you from his computer screen.

“He’s not here right now.” Another man rounded the desk, leaning on the counter beside you. “Is there anything I could help you with? Detective Brock Rulmow.” A shit eating grin. Wise guy.

“I need to speak to Detective Barnes about the woman murdered in the Combat Zone this morning. I’m an investigative journalist with—” His brows pull together. Head jerking to the side.

“The prostitute?” He asks.

“Sex worker.” You correct. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” Rumlow’s jaw clenched, he looked to the man behind the desk as though in on a joke, then back at you.

“No clue sweetheart,” A chill down your spine, “I’ll let him know you were in.”  You try not to huff in frustration,

“I can just wait at his desk.” You offer, no big deal. He laughs bitterly,

“I’ll let him know you were in.” He repeats, like it’s final. You shake your head looking down at the man behind the desk.

“Is there someone else I could speak to?” You ask. The man looks between you and Rumlow, but before he can speak.

“You can speak to me.” Turning, you see a woman in all black, red hair perfectly smooth, pulled back on her head in a tight bun at the base of her neck. “Natasha Romanov, assistant DA, I work with Detective Barnes.” A sigh of relief. “You’re more than welcome to sit at his desk and wait for him, he should be back soon, but I myself will not be making any comments about the crime at the moment and I’m not sure he would be willing to either.” A blanket statement, but she didn’t shut you out so there was some wiggle room here.

“I just have a couple about the victim herself, Cheryl Hansen.” Natasha nods, “She has children?” Something that could be easily found with a search, but you’re asking her anyway.

“Two.” Natasha answers, “Young, only a year and three years.” Simple things make her think you’re just writing a short little piece about the victim.

“Was she married?”

“No,” She crosses her arms, leaning over on her heels. “But both children are from the same father.” You hum, a little bias there. Would it have made a difference if they weren’t?

“Does she have any remaining family?” Natasha looks at you for a moment, glancing at the bag on your back.

“Are you going to write any of this down for your article?” You shake your head,

“It’s up here.” A tap to your temple. “If I was taking a direct quote I would record, but…”

“These are simple questions.” You smile,

“Yeah.” You look back past the desk and into the bullpen. Rumlow glaring at you from across the way before looking back to Natasha.

“Her Mother.” Natasha answered, then looking at her watch says, “I’ve got to get going, but I’m sure Detective Barnes should be back soon, his desk, unfortunately, is the one beside Detective Rumlow’s.” Of course, it is.

“Thank you for your time.” But she was already walking away from you. You sucked in your teeth, slipping into the bullpen and settling yourself into the seat at his desk. The little plaque ‘Detective James Barnes’, slightly messy with an empty coffee mug and a large stack of files.

You could feel Rumlow’s eyes on you, but luckily, he hadn’t said much since you sat down. Now all you had to do was wait.

You didn’t have to wait long before a man entered the precinct and made his way over to the desk you were waiting at, you standing to greet him.

“Detective Barnes.” A smile as charming as you can muster, and a hand thrust out in front of you for him to shake. Which he does, giving you a strange look.

“You’re a reporter?” He shakes your hand awkwardly,

“Investigative journalist.” You glance behind you at Rumlow’s scoff, his eyes focused on his computer screen. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about Cheryl Hansen.”

“Do you have any information that would be pertinent to the case?” He went to sit at his desk, stopped by your hand,

“We should talk privately.”

Bucky Barnes has heard your name before. You’d approached many Detectives in cases such as these and there was a little stigma attached to it. It wasn’t uncommon for your name to be brought up looking into the death of a sex worker. “Every time a girl is murdered suspiciously, she pokes her nose into it.” Natasha told him. “Just give her a little statement and send her on her way.” Harmless.

The small conference room he watched you slip your backpack off and sink into a chair, looking at him expectantly as he sat across from you.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Which wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t exactly the truth either. He needed to talk to Steve, but not much else could be done about the case until he got the warrant for Hale or the autopsy report.

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” The little notebook laid out, pen absently set beside it. “I just have a couple of questions as far as the layout,” The notebook full of scribbles, notes. Bucky could see different names. Details. “She was on her back? Spread out? Naked.” Yes. He watched you pause for a moment, “Strangled?” He nods, yes.

“This is all things you can find in the police report.” He says, “What is your question?” You stare at each other a moment before asking,

“Was she missing her ring finger?” That took Bucky off guard. That wasn’t in the police report. Something he kept from accessible record. He stared at you for a moment,

“How did you know that?” He watched your mouth part, your eyes shifting into the bullpen, then back to his.

“You’re a new Detective, right?” You ask him. He nods, watching you rip a sheet of paper out and scribbling down an address. “I think you can really help me, but it’s not safe to talk here.” A phone number, before sitting back in your chair and looking at him plainly. “This isn’t just another dead girl.”

A knock on the conference room door. He spun around, Steve. “Barnes, in my office please.” A look past him at you, “Sorry for interrupting,” an apologetic smile. “Just have to steal him from you, but I’m sure he’d be willing to finish the interview at another time.” Bucky took the slip of paper from your hand, scooting back from the table as you stood across from him.

“Thank you for your time.” Bucky shakes your hand,

“Have a nice day.” And he was gone from the room. Walking through the bullpen and into Steve’s office.

“Thanks for saving me.” He sighs, sinking into the chair across from his friend. The paper shoved into his jacket pocket. Steve laughed,

“You’re not the first Detective she’s cornered looking for information.” Typing into his computer. “She has this conspiracy theory about the murdered sex workers in the Combat Zone that she’s trying to find a foothold in.”

“What conspiracy?” Steve had been a Detective long before he was, when he was still a beat cop Steve got promoted, and it wasn’t long after Steve had been promoted that he became Captain. The guy was a marvel. Very hard working, a little strict, but Bucky admired the perseverance of his friend. Steve wanted to be Captain just like his Dad had been, and he did nothing else but work hard to reach his goal. Bucky was sure that Joseph Rogers paved the way for Steve’s success, but Steve was so hard working on his own that he couldn’t help but have been proud of his friend.

Steve shakes his head, “Back in the 90’s there was a serial killer on the loose here in Boston that murdered a bunch of sex workers, but they caught the guy. He had a confession. His DNA was found on multiple crime scenes.” Steve sits back in his chair, slightly rocking from side to side, “But she still thinks they caught the wrong guy.” A shrug. “So she thinks he’s still out there and could pick back up at any time.”

“So she’s just nutty?” Bucky chuckles, sighing and rubbing his eyes, “Is there any margin for error on this?” Steve purses his lips,

“There’s a margin for error on any case, but I think that there was enough evidence for the jury to come to the conclusion that the guy was guilty.” A shrug, “I don’t remember enough about the case, but I’m sure you could look it up and see the details.” A slight rock side to side in his chair,

“Did you want to grab a drink later?” Bucky asked, “I think I need one after seeing that body this morning.”

“I can’t,” Steve sighs, “Peg’s brother is coming over for dinner tonight and I gotta be out of here right at five to go help her clean up and cook.” Bucky nods,

“Alright, so I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Standing from his chair,

“With your paperwork all finished.” Bucky groaned.

“Don’t give me that Buck.” Steve laughed, “It has to get done.” He raises his hands in submission,

“It’ll get done.” Bucky smiles, “Tell Peggy I said hi.”

“Will do.” Rumlow was giving him a look when he sat down at his desk, protein bar in hand.

“The broad is crazy right?” Bucky shakes his head, not answering, “She is hot though, next time I see her I’m probably gonna see if she wants to—”

“Don’t you have work to do?” A glance over the top of his computer screen, the smirk on Rumlow’s face.

“You’re no fun Barnes,” A laugh, “No fun at all.”

…

“He didn’t believe me.” You sighed into the receiver, shaking your head, “I could tell.” A deep breath from the other side.

“Maybe you need to take a break from this.” Sam’s voice laced with concern, soft for you on the other line. “I know how much this means to you Y/N, but it’s not healthy.” You could feel the tears starting. You needed to calm down. Your knee bouncing up and down as you sat in your car. The anxiety.

“I can’t let go, Sam.” A whisper into the car. “I just can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to.” You could hear him on the other end, probably slipping his coat onto his shoulders. Picking up his bag. “Maybe you should come over for dinner. Riley is grilling steaks; I’ll have him throw one on for you.” Shaking your head.

“Not tonight, Sam.” You tug on your bottom lip, “I think I just need to be alone.” You hear him pause,

“It’s not—”

“Good for me to be alone, I know.” You look out the window of your car at the police station. “I think I’m gonna just go grab some dinner out and go to bed, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, if you need anything…”

“Thank you, Sam.” The phone disconnected you ran your thumb across the screen before tossing it into your cup holder, turning your keys in the ignition and pulling off.

There was a little diner by your apartment. A place that had been your favorite since you could remember. You could recall in vague memories of your Mother, when she was still alive, taking you to this diner. It wasn’t the best diner, with the best coffee, or the best pie. But you knew everyone who worked there. It wasn’t uncommon for you to stop in and have dinner there while you worked. To be honest it’s what you preferred to do instead of going home to your empty apartment every night. Laptop out on the table while you ate a club sandwich and fries, Marie stopping by to refill your coffee while you sat with a half-touched piece of whatever pie they were trying to get rid of.

It was a comfort really.

And when you walk in and your table is empty, it just makes the day just a little bit better. Back to the wall, the window on your left giving you somewhere to zone out over the parking lot.

“Hi honey,” Marie, sweet and ageing, her hair was almost entirely grey now. You vaguely recall a time where it was pitch black. “What do you feel like eating today?” A glass of water and a soda brought over with her greeting. You hum, slipping your laptop out of your backpack.

“I think I want a burger.” And she was off. Your screen lit up you opened your notebook. The first page was a list of names. The twenty women killed over the course of 10 years starting in 1989 and continuing to 1999. One every six months like clockwork, the following pages, each woman having their own page. Name, next of kin, children’s names and ages. Details of their death. And on and on, you flipped through the pages. Leaving a blank page in between you write at the top, Cheryl Hansen.

Mother of two.

You wondered briefly what she wanted out of life. If she wanted to do something else and just tumbled into this bad life by circumstance, because they all did. You wondered how the system failed her. How she ended up dead in the middle of an alley somewhere because she wasn’t given the help she needed.

Tomorrow, you’d talk to her Mother. Like you’ve talked to the other next of kin before. You open the Facebook page. Thousands of members.

Justice for Nick Fury.

The man the murders were pinned on. The man you visit every week. And you made a post.

You thanked Marie for your dinner, picking at your fries as you wrote to your mods about the new development. That you’ll be looking into it, because you’re sure in the next day or two you’ll get a good amount of people forwarding you information about Cheryl’s death. A fund would be put up for donations to help her children. You sigh, leaning back against the booth.

As you finally bit into your burger, your phone lights up on the table next to you. A number you don’t recognize. Your thumb ran across the screen, answering the call, “Hello?” You wiped your mouth with a napkin.

“Y/N? This is Detective James Barnes… we need to talk.”

[punkpoemprose]

A Convenient Arrangement- Part 1

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU 

Word Count: 5333

Rating: T (It’s clearly implied that sex is a societal expectation but it’s not written in)

Notes: Happy Unbirthday Anna @upthenorthmountain! I hope you like this arranged marriage AU. I was trying to get some mutual pining in there, but it was running away on me and ended up twice as long as planned without getting even half as much in as I wanted. I hope you’ll excuse my run away writing though. I can’t help myself!

He’d never asked for this. Hadn’t even known that he was involved until a full unit of royal guard soldiers broke through a copse of trees on the edge of the clearing where he’d made his little home, half congratulatory, half confused as to how to treat him. They hadn’t known how to address him, or how to tell him he didn’t really have much of an option but to go with them, because he was about to marry their princess.  

There’d been some form of chaos in the kingdom he’d missed, up safe in the mountains as he was. He heard rumors of an upheaval at the Queen’s coronation ball, distrust amongst the people that stemmed from the Queen, Queen Elsa, having magical abilities and some kind of attempted murder at the hands of a foreign born Prince who had been trying to marry the Princess. The Princess he’d never met. The Princess he’d be marrying before even meeting.

It had been a lottery. Every unmarried man between the Princess’s own age of 18 and 30 was included, common folk, the ones who were afraid of their new Queen and wary of the aristocracy with all that had unfolded. It was meant to be a way to calm the masses, to allay their fears. Nothing made people so rapturously joyful as a royal wedding, or so he’d been told. He hadn’t even known that he’d been included, he didn’t even know that the crown had ever heard of him. He was just a mountain hermit for all intents and purposes, an ice harvester with a reindeer and an adopted family no one could know about. He wasn’t built to marry a Princess. He didn’t want to marry a Princess.

He knew that he should be overjoyed, after all marrying into the royal family would give him access, resources, a voice that he’d never imagined having, but so much time had been spent searching for him in the mountains that by the time he made it to the castle, he was being shoved into rooms to wash and dress in unfamiliar clothes that frankly, barely fit him. He didn’t feel anything close to joy as he stared at himself in a mirror. Some palace servant whose purpose and title he didn’t know, had cut his hair and smoothed it back against Kristoff’s annoyed protests. He didn’t look like himself, he was about to meet his wife, on the altar, and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t recognize him either, nor him her. None of it mattered really. He was just an unwilling participant in what would undoubtedly be a sham marriage of convenience. The Princess needed to marry someone common to please the people, and he was about as common as they came.

He felt a bit like a lamb being lead to the slaughter when a knock came at the door.

***

Anna was struggling to keep the bile down. She’d been bathed in rose water, powdered, primped and dressed in a gown of beautiful cream silk, but when she stared into the mirror all she could see was the dark circles they couldn’t hide under her eyes. She looked more like a cleverly dressed corpse than a Princess and a bride. She hadn’t eaten in days, not since Prince Hans of the Southern Isles had nearly succeeded in his plan to marry Anna and have her and her sister killed to take over the throne. She hadn’t slept either, picturing again and again the way she’d just walked into his trap and how she’d only been saved from it by her sister exposing her abilities to the world. She hadn’t spoken much to Elsa in the time since, only enough to consent to this arrangement to help calm their citizenry.

She’d imagined thousands of times what she would look like as a bride, how she’d feel when she married someone for love like her parents had. She stared at herself, a ghost in a wedding gown, her heart aching and screaming against the predicament she’d put them in and the fantasies she’d had since she was a child felt juvenile. She’d been stupid, she was being stupid.

She’d managed to keep herself from crying, to hold it all in and direct the pain in her heart to her gut. She could feign illness when it was all over that way. Maybe whatever man they’d brought to wed her would be kind enough to let an ill woman skip her wedding night. She wasn’t holding her breath though.

His name was Kristoff, that much she remembered. She’d thought at first they’d said Christopher, but a maid had been kind enough to correct her later. Kristoff Bjorgman. He was an ice harvester, and blessedly just three years her elder. She couldn’t imagine having to marry someone much older than him, but if she was being honest with herself she couldn’t imagine being married to him either.

She didn’t even know what he looked like, but she had imagined someone terrifying in her head. He’d be hulking, manner less, and cruel. Maybe he’d be attractive, but not in the well-polished way that she’d imagined for many years, and even if he was nice to look at, even if he wasn’t the beast her sleep-deprived mind was inventing, there was no promise that he would ever come to love her.

He was from the mountains, he’d not even known he’d been included in the lottery and from what she heard the maids whispering, he had no interest in marrying her. She couldn’t blame him. All he knew of her was that she was a Princess and that she was taking away his freedom to choose a bride. Of course, she was told by the royal advisors and anyone else who had a hand in the arrangement that he’d come willingly. Who wouldn’t want to marry a Princess after all?

She felt like her stomach was going to spill itself, though it contained nothing, when she heard a knock on the door. It was time.

She tried to keep her breathing level, to walk with poise as she was directed out the door. She could feel the tears coming as she looked back on her bedroom, the place she’d spent her childhood dreaming of this day. She’d never guessed then that dreams could quickly become nightmares.

***

Kristoff felt choked by his collar. It was too tight, and his throat was even tighter still. Breathing felt laborious in a way that he’d only experienced once, after a fall that knocked all the air from his lungs. He hoped that the assembled guests could tell how eager he was to be done with it all, he hoped they knew that this wasn’t something he wanted.

There were common folk and gentry before him with few familiar faces, some merchants he’d seen in the market before were staring at him with envy. He wished he could tell him that he’d be more than willing to trade with them or any of their sons. He wished that he could walk out of the room, get Sven from the castle stables and pretend that none of this was happening. If he weren’t worried about being hung for it, for slighting a princess, he would.

Arendelle had always been a good place to live. The royals thought of the people, and from what he knew of them and the country’s history, they were not unkind. Perhaps it was an option, but no. Misanthropic as he was, he knew that there were people for whom this marriage was important. It meant something, it meant stabilizing tensions, and so long as Queen Elsa was a good a ruler as her parents had been, he was content to do his part.

Content, he supposed, was a stretch. A better word might be resigned, like a man being put to death.

It wasn’t as if he’d had a sweetheart or anything. He’d just never planned to marry at all. He liked the simple life he made for himself in the mountains, he liked relying on himself and on his adoptive family. He didn’t need companionship beyond that. He didn’t need the castle coffers, he didn’t want to dress in clothes like the ones he’d been squeezed into, his shoulders were already aching over the way the coat he wore tugged at him. He’d just wanted to be left alone.

But he wasn’t alone. He’d spent so much time in his own thoughts, thinking about how much he didn’t want to be where he was standing that he hadn’t noticed everyone in the room standing. They’d already knelt when the Queen came in, taking a solitary seat at the front of the room such that while the day was her sisters, she was still the center of attention, her right as Queen. Now though, no one was kneeling, but instead they stood to get a better look at the white and cream veiled figure striding down the red velvet runner that covered the floor in the aisle between the pews.

His Princess. The woman who was to be his wife.

***

She was still holding back tears, reminding herself to breathe as she walked to the sanctuary doors. It wasn’t the wedding she’d imagined. Her parents had died years ago now, there was no one to guide her to the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle beyond the door. Or she’d thought as much. Her sister had offered, her face betraying every ounce of pain that Anna felt, when Anna had reminded her, as kindly as she could, that as Queen, she’d need to be in the room before her.

When he doors were pushed open by the awaiting guards, Anna was surprised to feel a solid and comforting form at her side, taking her arm gently. She turned to see Kai, the head butler, the man who had known her since she was a girl, taking up place at her side to walk her down the aisle. She saw sadness in his eyes as he smiled apologetically at her. It was enough to bring her some small comfort when she turned to face the room that had opened before her.

There were people standing. She felt their eyes on her and she wished more than anything that it could have been a private affair. Maybe then she would have been allowed to cry, maybe then she would have been allowed to meet her betrothed first. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so hollow inside.

She focused on moving her feet, on holding her bouquet so that she didn’t drop it, on breathing and on not crying.

Don’t trip. Breathe. Hold it in. Don’t trip. Breathe. Hold it in. Don’t trip.

Her mind volleyed commands at her body as she moved down the aisle, grateful for Kai’s presence at her side until they reached the end of the aisle and was forced to leave her at the stairs before the altar. She strode up it herself, carefully. The man waiting there for her didn’t move to assist her, and she did her best to not look at him at all, sure that if she did, all her carefully constructed walls would fall down.

Breathe. Hold it in. Look somewhere else. Don’t let him know you’re terrified. Get through. Survive. Make your parents proud. Make Elsa proud. Fix the problem you caused.

The assembled guests were seated, and while she could feel their excitement, the room felt somber to her. Little in the way of decorations had been attended to in the rush of arranging the lottery and now the subsequent wedding. There were white roses and ribbons and candles, but they felt too few and far between, too colorless to bring a brightness to the old chapel.

She’d always imagined sunflowers. She loved sunflowers.

The priest was speaking, discussing something at length about duty and how the bond between the palace and the people was one blessed by God and so this marriage would be too. She was just glad he was mostly avoiding the topic of love. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to keep herself from running out if he had.

She knew that she missed something he’d said when she felt hands grip hers.

She almost jumped from the contact, barely holding the reaction back when she realized that they belonged to her soon to be husband.

Vows. They were being asked to say their vows.

They hadn’t written their own given that they didn’t know each other and certainly didn’t have the time.

Her attention shifted to the feel of his hands on hers, making it unavoidable to focus on him, as hard as she’d been trying to avoid it. He wasn’t wearing gloves. It probably shouldn’t surprise her as much as it did, she wasn’t wearing them, but she simply wasn’t used to being around men who didn’t wear gloves. She could feel the rough callouses on his fingers, on his palm. He was not like any man she’d ever met.

She allowed herself to direct her eyes up, taking in his face for the first time. He had a boyish look to him that made her feel a little less afraid than she had been. He wasn’t some terrifying beast of a man, despite his size which was quite immense compared to her, he was just a tired looking boy a bit older than her who seemed to be just as uncomfortable as she was, well as he was hiding it.

Her eyes caught his and she felt his hands leave hers to pull her veil back. She did her best to compose her face as he did so, knowing that everyone, him included were about to get a very good look at her expression.

His movements were quick but gentle, and she was grateful when the veil was behind her and his hands went back to hers again. It was one step closer to the end.

Her eye caught his, and her heart skipped. His eyes were brown like the earth he undoubtedly worked with his callouses. For a moment they flashed a sort of soft look, but once it was time for them to say their vows, it was gone.

***

He was beginning to grow tired of the pomp and circumstance of the ceremony. They’d said their vows and while he’d heard of exchanges of rings being popular, they did not engage in the practice. Likely, he thought, they wouldn’t even know what size ring to select for him, making the gesture impossible. Still, however, the priest continued to speak on the importance of their marriage, that they should respect and care for each other and about a thousand other sentimentalities that fell flat to him given that he knew nothing about his bride.

He did know that she had blue eyes, and that they looked sad. He could hardly blame her for being disappointed, but he did try to focus on something else. She had freckles on her nose and brilliant red hair. Her lips were set in a false smile that he tried his best to mimic. Despite the fact that she was a Princess, brought up in a life of luxury, he could tell from the way she was standing tall and no longer avoiding his eye that she was strong. That much, he thought, he might be able to grow to like and respect if not love.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Kristoff had been waiting to hear the words. Relief and terror flooded him simultaneously as he realized that this would be the end of the ceremony, but also the start of a marriage.

He felt her hands start to tremble in his, and he held them tighter in his own, trying to hide it. He wasn’t sure what brought him to do it, but he thought that if he were her, he’d want to seem as strong as she was trying to be, and a shake, involuntary as it was, would show fear and sadness. It was a wedding gift to her, to help her be strong. He had nothing else to give her.

He leaned in, trying to give her an apologetic look before pressing his lips to hers.

They would never have to do it again.

***

The feast after the wedding had been a strange thing. Under normal conditions Anna thought that she might have enjoyed the celebration, but as she looked around the room she’d only been reminded of her failings. It was too much like the coronation ball where she’d met Hans and nearly ruined everything her family ever worked to build. Her life now, she supposed, was something like a ruin, but when she sat at a high table, pretending to eat bits of each course, she’d been able to pretend that she was acting out a scene from a play. She was a blushing bride, she was accepting praise, she was having a lovely meal.

She couldn’t pretend anymore.

She shivered, quaking, sitting on the edge of her bed waiting for the man, Kristoff, her husband, to come to her door. She had a wifely duty to fulfil, nothing more and nothing less, and she simply hoped that he wouldn’t do anything overly improper or painful to her. Frankly she wasn’t certain of what he might ask of her. She knew the mechanics, she knew what the act entailed in its most basic form, but she’d heard things that frankly had her terrified.

Her bridal night gown was still draped over her vanity chair. She’d not been able to bring herself to change into it. It felt too final that way, like she was giving in to the fact that she’d being laying back and putting her mind to other work. She’d sent away her maids, lest they force her into it.

A knock came on the door, and she didn’t know what to say. She felt like one of the statues in the halls, immobile, unable to react in anyway. It would be easier if she was, she thought. Then at least, she wouldn’t have to see what was happening to her, she wouldn’t have to feel it.

“Can… can I come in?”

She already recognized his voice, although he hadn’t spoken much after the ceremony other than to thank the staff and accept the well wishes of guests and witnesses with a sort of unapologetic gruffness that she was begging to associate with him. She hoped beyond all things that she’d not see it in action, rather hoping for more of the sort of gentle kindness he’d shown subtly in the ceremony.

He’d held her steady when she’d fallen apart, when she’d started to shake. It was something she’d been replaying in her head along with the memory of a gentle and chaste kiss that he’d pressed to her mouth. It gave her some small phantom hope that maybe he’d show her some tenderness in the act of their consummation. It was, she thought, the most she could hope for.

“Yes,” she said, her voice quiet and small, even to her ears.

She was surprised that he’d even heard her speak when she heard the door handle turn, though she supposed that it might have also been a coincidence, that he’d simply tired of waiting in the moments after her quiet acceptance. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t have much patience for her. She didn’t have much patience for herself as it was.

She stared at her feet instead of looking to see him come through the door. She listened to the sound of the door closing again, locking behind him. She listened to and counted the footfalls that took him from the door to her side, all twelve of them, and couldn’t bring herself to look up when he drew close. Instead she reached behind herself, fingers going to the ribbons of her gown’s bodice and tugging them loose.

Better, she thought, to get it over with.

“Stop.”

She froze. He didn’t sound pleased. The gruffness in his voice had returned in force and she knew that she’d displeased him in some way. She thought that such a thing shouldn’t upset her, but it did.

“Don’t.”

The words were simple, but foreign to her. Why would he not want her to undress? Something in her stomach dropped to think that maybe she wasn’t pretty enough for him. Perhaps, she thought, he wanted to put out the candles and bank the fire before bedding her. She’d been told by others that she was lovely, but she had never quite believed it herself, particularly not after how Hans had played her like a fiddle.

She felt the mattress compress under his added weight as he sat at her side. She hadn’t expected for him to sit, and it was enough to make her look from her feet to his face. She was surprised to see that he didn’t look angry or disgusted, or annoyed, but rather that he appeared to be sad. She caught his eye and his expression softened further, like he understood her confusion and hurt and fear. It struck her in that moment that if there was anyone that would understand, it was him.

“I can put the lanterns out if you prefer,” she said, her voice just as weak as it had been. She tried to hazard a smile, but she knew it just came off as exhausted and small. She saw her failure to fake interest on his face.

“No,” he replied, “you can change if you wish, but I just want you to know that… I have no expectations of you. I’m sure that you were told I would… I know we’re expected to… but I don’t want that.”

She swallowed hard, relief and anxiety flooding her system simultaneously. That she wouldn’t have to bare herself to him, a total stranger, was a kindness. That he, her husband, didn’t want her on their wedding night, was painful. She’d not been wanted in a very long time, and she supposed it shouldn’t surprise her that someone who was forced to wed her would change that fact.

“Oh,” she replied, “I thought…”

He sighed and laid back on the bed.

“I know.”

***

She looked too young to be a bride. He’d wondered briefly at the alter if she always looked so frail, so much like a bird, but when she’d eaten nothing at the wedding feast, he’d been given his answer. Already he’d planned to go to her bedchamber and request nothing, but at the altar, at the meal, his mind had been made up.

She hadn’t picked him as a husband, nor had he chosen her for a wife, but he’d cherish her, nevertheless. He’d protect her and learn to be her husband if in title only. He deserved the choice to do that at least, and he thought that if she couldn’t have someone more deserving of her than he was, he’d at least try to live up to the role.

“We’re going to stay here for a while,” he said gently, trying not to frighten her, trying to make himself prone and small and anything but the intimidating large beast of a man he knew he was. “Then when everyone thinks we’ve… finished what is expected of us, I’ll leave and get something for you to eat and you won’t have to see me again for the evening.”

She looked at him with shock, and he was comforted that it was at least not the nervousness she’d shown him when he first entered the room. It was something at least.

“Why?”

She sounded a bit incredulous, but her expression was softer, more confused.

“Because you didn’t eat at dinner and I think that maybe you haven’t eaten in a while.”

She shook her head, and it took him a moment to understand that she wasn’t asking him why he was planning on bringing her something to eat, and that she was more curious as to his overall motives.

“Why aren’t you… I’m sure you must be angry, or at least upset… unless… well you’re happy to be marrying up or something, but you didn’t seem to be before. I just… I thought that you’d want to take what is yours to take.”

He tried not to bristle visibly. She didn’t know him, he couldn’t possibly blame her for thinking that he’d do everything she’d undoubtedly been warned he would.

“You,” he said, weighing his words, shifting up on one arm to get a better look at her eyes again. They were beautiful, bright and full of emotion. He could already read her feelings on her face. It was simple when she was so unguarded. “You are not property… and I don’t deign to take anything that isn’t offered willingly. I can’t take something from you just because we’re married.”

She seemed to calm at that, her expression shifting slightly to curiosity and then relief. It was almost enough to make him fall back more comfortably on her mattress. He supposed it wasn’t entirely true. Space on her incredibly soft mattress probably wasn’t his to take either, but that she hadn’t chided him yet for laying upon it was a comfort. He’d had a long day and was looking forward to some time to lay back and let his muscles untense a bit.

“I wasn’t unwilling,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

He frowned at the ceiling and then let his eyes close for a moment. Despite how quietly she’d said it, there was something resolute to her tone, the strength he’d seen simmering behind her eyes at their ceremony cropping up again. He had a feeling that if she became a bit more comfortable with him, she would be downright feisty.

“Maybe,” he offered, “But you weren’t willing either. Just because you don’t say no, doesn’t mean you’re saying yes.”

He could feel her lay back on the mattress at his side, and he thought that the pins in her hair must be poking at her scalp. He thought that if they had only been given a few days to get to know each other, that he might have taken her hair down for her. She seemed like she might have liked that.

“What if I never say yes?” she asked, “Surely you want a son… what if I never consent to give you that?”

He shrugged, feeling her eyes on him though he couldn’t see her looking.

“If you never say yes, you never say yes. I haven’t thought much about children, but if I ever wanted a son there are more ways than one to build a family Anna.”

***

Her heart leapt at his words, and perhaps most at the sound of her name being said in his voice.

Never. He’d never make her lie with him if she chose not to. She knew that she shouldn’t trust him at his word, especially as it would mean that their marriage would never be consummated if she chose, but despite her recent misplaced trust, there was something about Kristoff that made her want to try believing him. He was already being so much more gracious towards her than she expected he would be, that she thought he should be.

“More ways than one?”

He let out a sigh that was tinged with an almost chuckle. That too made her heart feel warm in unfamiliar ways.

“Well, we have some time to talk… guess we should get to know each other a bit… I was adopted. So if I wanted a child and you didn’t want to engage in the practice of making one… I suppose I would adopt a boy. Or maybe a girl? Carrying on my name isn’t possible given our children would take your name, but don’t worry yourself about it, it was never a priority for me anyway.”

She thought about what he said for a moment. She’d never met anyone who was adopted before. She thought that maybe she should ask him about his family, but she was afraid that if she did, he’d ask her about hers, and she was feeling too shattered for that conversation to take place right away, even if he probably already knew most of it.

“Anything else I should know? Just while we’re talking…”

“Depends on what you think you should know. My favorite color? Favorite food? Best friend’s name? Shoe size?”

There was a smile to his voice when he replied, and Anna let herself close her eyes when she heard it. He was warming to her, and she let out a small but genuine laugh to show him that she was warming to him in return.

“Sure, start there and I’ll tell you mine.”

His smile was beautiful in her head, but she couldn’t open her eyes to see if he was sporting it laying at her side. The softening of their demeanors, the quiet conversation they were carrying on was all that was keeping her from weeping.

She felt lucky, that of all the men in the Kingdom she could have ended up with, it was someone as kind as he seemed to be.

“Only if you promise not to laugh when I tell you my best friend is a reindeer.”

She smiled. He was a bit odd maybe, but there was a sincerity to his tone that relaxed her, allowed her to open up.

“Only if you promise not to pity me when I tell you I don’t have any friends at all.”

There was a long silence after she said it, and for a moment she was afraid that the tentative bond between them had already snapped, but then she felt it. His rough hand had slid across the space between them, his fingers brushing experimentally across her palm, offering a gentle sort of touch that made her want to weep.

She took it and the soft squeeze she felt was far more intimate than anything he could have done to her with her wedding gown off.

“What if…” she started, feeling half mad for asking, “What if a day comes where I say yes?”

Returning to the original topic seemed to throw him for a moment, but she felt his thumb gently brush against her hand before her answered.

“Then I’ll have to say yes too… and I think it will take me some time to get to that place. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you, but I think I’d like to get to know my wife before we come anywhere close to that.”

Her heart fluttered at the thought. He did want her then. She took comfort in that, and in the fact that he wanted to get to know her, to build a relationship.

“Kristoff,” she said, testing his name on her tongue and finding that it felt right to say.

He turned to her expectantly, and she rolled to meet his gaze, her fingers squeezing against his weakly, “I’m sorry you were pulled into this… but I just want you to know, even if it’s selfish of me to think… I’m glad that I’m married to someone like you. I wasn’t expecting kindness.”

He gave her a look that seemed to be a mix between sadness and appreciation. There was a soft almost smile playing on his lips, and she tried to give it back.

“I never thought about marrying… but Anna… I think I’m going to like being married to you.”

The honesty that he carried in his voice with such ease was what made her inch, ever so slightly closer to his side, and for the first time since her sister’s coronation, or perhaps even before that, she felt like maybe things were going to be alright.

[pinky13427]

For zutara week: Day 1 Reunion

Katara's P.O.V

It has been two long years since the end of the 100 year war. Two years have passed since Aang and I tried to have a relationship, but it didn't work out. Two years have passed since Zuko and I kissed after he got injured by Azula's lightning that was meant for me. Two years have passed since Zuko became Fire Lord. The last I heard from him was two years ago, when he told me that Mai and him were going to try dating. Two years have passed since I last saw him face to face. Two years have passed since I realized that I was completely, and utterly in love with Zuko.

The same Zuko that hunted Aang all over the world. The same Zuko who saved me from the pirates. The same Zuko who eventually joined us in defeating his father. The same Zuko who helped me face my mother's killer. The same Zuko who held me as I cried after I faced said killer. The same Zuko who I had forgiven after that trip to face that evil man.

Even now, I think about what could've happened between us, had we decided not to date Aang and Mai respectively. I wonder if he ever thinks about me. About the passionate and relieved kiss we shared. I wonder if Zuko and Mai are still together. I hope they aren't, then maybe I can tell Zuko my true feelings. I am on my way to the Fire Nation right now because I needed to get away from the freezing cold that was the Southern Watertribe. When we were travelling around the world, I found myself wanting to make a permanent home in the Fire Nation. I love the climate it has. Plus, I absolutely adored the fashion of the Fire Nation people. And, I would be closer to Zuko. So I have decided to move here. I left Sokka to lead our tribe. He understands that I couldn't live in such a secluded place anymore. Now, I can only hope that Zuko won't mind me living in the palace until I can find a place to call my own. I make my way up to the palace doors where a guard is waiting to escort me to see Fire Lord Zuko.

Zuko's P.O.V

I'm sitting on my throne waiting for any news about anything really. Being Fire Lord is not what I expected. It's actually quite boring. Since the end of the war there have only been minor inconveniences. Such as a few of my father's old supporters trying to start another war. But we quickly took care of them. They're now in prison alongside my father. My ambassadors keep trying to find me a wife. But I only have one female in mind. And that's Katara. Ever since Mai and I broke up, Katara hasn't left my mind. I don't think she ever left.

Not since that kiss we shared. After Azula struck me with her lightning, I thought I was definitely a goner. But Katara saved my life. Me, the person who has caused her and her friends so much pain, was saved by Katara. After she healed me up a bit, we kissed. And what a wonderful kiss it was. I never wanted it to end. I wanted Katara to be by my side for the rest of our lives. But we had to make sure that the war was finished. And it was. But then I got coronated and we went our separate ways. Without even talking about the kiss.

When I jumped in front of the lightning to save Katara, I had realized that I was completely in love with her. And have been since I saved her from the pirates. I wish I could've told her before I became Fire Lord. But everything happened so fast. And before I knew it, she was heading back to the Southern Watertribe with Sokka, Suki, and Aang. When they left, Katara and Aang we're dating. But she didn't look that happy. Neither of them really did. I think it was just an end of war thing. However, I'm not sure if they're still dating or not.

I haven't heard from Katara in those two years since the end of the war. And I've been too busy to write. Well, not really. Maybe I just didn't know how to put my feelings into words. That's something that I still struggle with. I really hope she finds time to visit me soon. Just so I can see her gorgeous cerulean eyes one more time. I really do miss her.

I told myself that if I ever see her again, that I would tell her my true feelings. Regardless if she returns them or not. I'm roused out of my thoughts when a guard enters the throne room. "What is the meaning of this interruption?" I'm not actually angry. I just didn't want to be interrupted while I was thinking about Katara. Or Kat, as I had started calling her towards the end of the war. I was not expecting the voice I heard next.

"Oh come on your majesty. Even I know that you weren't doing much." Katara says suddenly.

"Kat! Why didn't you tell me you were coming to visit. I would've prepared a special dinner and everything. Is anyone else with you? Where's Aang?" I couldn't help the jealousy that slipped out with my words as I said Aang's name.

Katara's P.O.V

I hide a snicker at his jealousy towards Aang. "Well, Zuko. I came here by myself. Because I've decided to move to the Fire Nation permanently. I've always loved the weather here. As well as the fashion. So I left Sokka to lead our tribe. And Aang and I broke up shortly after we started dating. We decided that we're better off as friends. Plus I love somebody else. And I hope that he returns my feelings." I look up hopefully at Zuko. "Can I stay inside the palace for awhile, until I can save up enough money to get my own house? It would be much appreciated."

I look up and see a strange look on his face. I don't know if it's from what I said about Aang and I not being together. Or if it was me telling him that I'm moving to the Fire Nation. Or if it was from me asking him if I could stay in the palace for awhile. However, his eyes show me that he's most intrigued about what I said about being in love with someone else. I really hope he returns my feelings. I look back to the guards in the room. "Can you guys give the Fire Lord and I a few minutes alone? He and I really need to talk about some things. Please and thank you." They nod and leave us. Soon it's just Zuko and I. Just like it was two years ago.

"So mister Fire Lord Zuko sir. Can I have a hug? I did just travel hundreds of miles to visit." I smile as he races towards me with a big grin on his face.

Zuko's P.O.V

Wait. I had so many thoughts going through my brain all at once. She's moving to the Fire Nation? She's not dating Aang anymore? She loves somebody else? She wants to stay in the palace for awhile? I don't know what question to ask her first. But right now I just need to focus on hugging her tightly. I run up to her and take her into my arms. Hugging her tightly, I also spun her in a little circle. "Kat! I can't believe you're here. Why didn't you write and tell me that you were coming?" After I hug her, I place her back on the ground before leading her up to the thrones. I sit her down in the one to my left and I sit in my personal throne. "We have much to discuss. But first things first. You're moving here? Forever? Cool. Now we won't be far apart. We'll be able to have our talks like we used to." I look down and see her looking a bit scared.

"Katara? What's wrong? You know you can tell me anything right? I know I haven't written these past two years. But I never knew what to say. I've never been good at explaining my feelings and thoughts to others."

She looks at me and asks, "Where's Mai? I thought you two would still be together."

I frown slightly. "She and I decided that we're better off as friends. She's found a lovely soldier to marry. I couldn't be any happier for her. Plus, I love somebody else." She looks a bit sad at that. I wonder why. Unless... "Kat? I want to try something really quick. Just trust me okay?"

She says breathlessly, "Of course I trust you Zuko but what..." before she can even get out her full response I lean my head down and kiss her fully on the lips. She freezes at first, but then she melts into the kiss just like she did two years ago. We kiss for what seems like forever, but we pull away in order to breathe. "Kat. You're the one I love. I've loved you ever since I saved you from the pirates. And I was so angry at myself when I betrayed your trust in Ba Sing Se. I let Azula's manipulations overrule what I really wanted. Which was you. I am so sorry."

Katara's P.O.V

Did he just... Did he just kiss me? I have been waiting for that moment for two years now. I couldn't be any happier. He also just said that he loves me. I can't help the blush that rises to my cheeks. And now he's apologizing again for what he did in Ba Sing Se. "Zuko... you don't need to apologize for that anymore. I forgave you a long time ago. I have a confession to make. I love you too Zuko. I have since you took me to face my mother's murderer. I didn't write to you either, because I didn't know how to express my feelings. So I've just been drowning myself in my work these past two years. Now that I've decided to move here, maybe we could try and make a relationship work."

I blush again, looking down. I feel his warm fingers lift my chin up to face him again.

Zuko's P.O.V

I look at Katara directly in her gorgeous cerulean eyes. "I would love it if you would become my girlfriend Kat. Don't worry about paying for a house. You can live here in the palace with me. And I know you don't like servants, so I won't assign you any if that is what you wish. I love you with all my heart. And I'm sorry it took me this long to tell you."

I kiss her softly one more time before hugging her gently. "This is some reunion isn't it?" I couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "I love you Katara."

Katara's P.O.V

I smile again. So glad that I made the trip over here. "I would love to live with you. Thank you for respecting my views on servants. But I wouldn't mind having one girl to talk to if I need help getting ready in the morning."

I lean my forehead on his shoulder. "Some reunion is right. And I love you Zuko."

[bellemorte180]

Wanderlust Chapter Eight

Supervisory Special Agent Vincent Griffith was a tall, black man with thick curly black hair. He had a small beard that framed his mouth and dark eyes that were filled with experience. He could be a harsh man, but he was not unfeeling. He wore a dark suit jacket and dress pants even though he was not in the office. Vincent had not been in the field himself in years, Klaus having been trained by the man, and was only dispatched when an emergency arose.

The murder of one of his agents could be considered an emergency.

Both Vincent and Klaus looked down at Marcel’s body. He was undressed, cleaned and prepped for autopsy. He was laying on a cold slab in the morgue, the same morgue Klaus had been in several times with Marcel since the beginning of this case. Klaus never expected to be staring down at the body of his friend. His dark eyes were closed and gone was the boyish expression Marcel was known for. A bullet hole in the center of his head could be found instead; a sight that filled Klaus with fury; and unimaginable grief.

After Liz’s phone call. Klaus ordered Rosza and Vanchure to stay with Caroline while he broke every speed limit to get to his motel room. When he reached the room, he had been sleeping for the past couple weeks, Klaus felt as though the world stopped spinning. Cop cars were surrounding the motel and Klaus all but threw his SUV into park before running into the motel. Liz, who saw him coming, tried to stop him from entering but he blew past her as though she was nothing.

The room was as Klaus had left it that morning; the bed made, Styrofoam cups in the trash and his clothes still in his black go bag. The only difference was the yellow police tape on the door and the dead body in the other bed. Marcel had been sprawled on his bed, eyes closed and completely at ease. The only comfort Klaus had was that Marcel was unaware of his death; yet all the while he was cursing Marcel’s ability to sleep through the apocalypse and die in the process. On the wall above the bed was a message written in what Klaus assumed was red paint; as though Marcel’s dead body was not message enough.

Get the fuck out of Mystic Falls.

Seeing Marcel, Klaus had collapsed on the ground; his eyes never leaving the body of his dead friend. He could not hear Liz trying to talk to him or anything could to point to who killed his partner. All he could see was the death of the one true friend he had in the United States. The numb feeling was slowly fading away and Klaus cried; not caring the officers who saw him. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he hardly could register Liz’s arms that surrounded him.

“The coroner states that he wouldn’t have felt anything.” Vincent told him, pulling Klaus from his thoughts on the moment he found his friend. It was a memory that he would never be able to purge from his mind. He had seen many dead bodies in his time and yet the memory of his best friend dead was not something that was going to leave him for a long time. The sight of him lying on the bed, his brains splattered across the white pillow rivaled the memory of his mother’s dead beaten body on the floor of his childhood home. “Walk me through what happened.”

“We were at the station; Marcel had grown tired.” Klaus replied in a monotone voice, his eyes still glued to the body of his friend. “He couldn’t look at the files anymore. It was growing late, and he wanted to go back to the motel. He asked if I would be going with him. I told him I was going to stay behind and continue going over the files.”

“You split up?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Klaus told him and Vincent nodded. They both knew it was impossible for partners to be together at all times during an investigation. It wasn’t blame, just a clarification but Klaus couldn’t help the feeling of guilt surging through him. “I lost track of time and before I knew it was very late. Almost early morning. I went to make some coffee when, Caroline, the killers most recent victim called me. Someone had broken into her house. I raced over there. I called Marcel but he didn’t answer. He is….was….a deep sleeper. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“It wasn’t your fault Klaus.” Vincent told him, hearing the break in his agent’s tone. Klaus’s jaw clenched and fury flashing behind his eyes. His mood shifting from numbness and anger was creeping upon him. “You were doing your job. If you had gone back to the motel with Marcel, there is a chance that you both would be dead. Okay?” Klaus nodded but silently not agreeing with Vincent’s assessment. “What happened next?”

“The killer shattered a window at Caroline’s house, leaving behind another note. He is no longer just watching her. He was watching us as well. Liz, Caroline’s mother, got a call from the station about gunshots heard. She said it most likely was a neighbor who tends to shoot them off. I thought nothing of it. I never thought that Marcel might have been in danger.”

“It’s a small town in the south, of course there are people who randomly set off guns.” Vincent told him and Klaus thought that this was possibly the first time his superior officer was trying to be kind to him. It wasn’t that Vincent hated Klaus, the two just butted head on more occasion than not, especially when Vincent stepped into a position of authority a few years back. It was part of the reason why Marcel was the one who typically dealt with Vincent. “What are your theories?”

“He would have known that we split up. He could have been watching the station or was waiting outside motel room. He had no intention of breaking into Caroline’s home, it was a distraction. He wanted to ensure that I would go to Caroline and would be out of the way. All the while he double backed and killed Marcel.”

“He wanted to send a message.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I have been…. working…with Caroline.” Klaus told him, looking up at Vincent for the first time; whose eyes held the same question Marcel had posed to him only days previously. However, Vincent’s expression lacked surprise. He had been informed of Klaus’s growing attachment to Caroline. If Marcel had not just died, Klaus would have been very angry with him. “She trusts me, and the killer is fixated on her. She is the one who got away and he thinks that I am the one standing in the way. He killed Marcel to send a message that he can get to me. And to her. It was a warning. He wants me to leave Mystic Falls or else.”

“Well, he is done killing.” Vincent replied and there was a hint of steel to his voice. While Vincent turned into a bureaucrat, which was the main dispute between Klaus and Vincent because Klaus had no patience for red tape, he was once an agent who had done this exact same job that Klaus was doing now for years. Vincent was a good profiler; he would have had to have been in order to climb the ladder has he had. “I’m staying until this case is solved.”

“Okay.” Klaus nodded; he was expecting that. Vincent was not going let the murder of one of his own go. This became more than just a serial murder but the death of an agent and in Vincent’s eyes; that was irredeemable. “I’ll get the case files to you and I will get you caught up on everything.”

“Marcel kept me in the loop and I’m well versed on the facts.” Klaus nodded, his eyes looking down at Marcel’s body; a bitter taste in his mouth. Marcel was always the one who kept touch with the office. Klaus realized that it was the first of many things he was going to miss about his old friend. “What I want is for you to give me a good reason why I shouldn’t remove you from this case.”

“What?”

“Your partner was just murdered. Marcel had concerns that you were getting too close to a victim. The killer clearly has you in his sights. Give me one good reason why I should not send you back to DC. The last thing I want is another dead agent on my hands and on my conscience.”

“Because you would be harming this case in the process and you know it.” Klaus snapped back with clenched teeth. He balled his hands into a fist, and he could feel his temper to flare. Nothing Vincent could say would cause him to go back to Washington DC without a fight. He would sooner leave the bureau completely before that happened. “You wouldn’t dare take me off this case.”

“I would.” Vincent replied, sensing his agent’s fury. “Your emotions are clouding your judgement. You cannot see things clearly and I can’t fault you for that. You and Marcel worked well together for years and a part of that was your friendship. What I am concerned about is this budding friendship between you and Ms. Forbes.”

“Don’t.” Klaus hissed but Vincent’s gaze was unwavering. Klaus turned from him and slammed his fist into one of the morgue’s freezers. It left a small dent and pain shot through his fists; something Klaus did not care about. “You take me off this case, you are letting the killer get away. I’m damn good at this job Vincent and taking me off of it will only let him get away and you know it.”

“Go cool off. Now.”

Klaus sent Vincent a murderous look before storming out of the morgue. Adrenaline was pulsing through his veins and everything in his sight had the twinge of red. Heading up the stairs that led directly into the police station, Klaus could see the officers staying out of his way; the same could be said for the dozen agents that Vincent had brought with him. Klaus’s reputation of being disagreeable had proceeded him and the loss of Marcel was bound to put the rest of the agents on edge.

Klaus made his way into the small conference room and looked around. The files had been removed and placed in Liz’s office, which Vincent had taken over. The board that held the timetable and photos of the victims was also gone. The only thing that remained was the cold cup of coffee Klaus had made before Caroline’s call came in. This was the room he had last seen Marcel in alive. They had been going over files, Marcel’s eyes blurry and tired from the strain and late night. Hot tears pooled at Klaus’s eyes and any restraint he was feeling snapped. Klaus picked up the cold cup of coffee and tossed it at the wall, the liquid spilling everywhere and the glass mug shattering once it made contact with the wall. In a fit of rage, Klaus yelled at the top of his lungs, flipping the conference table over and tossing the chairs around before he found himself pinned against the wall.

“Agent Mikaelson.” Vincent’s sound in his ear, realizing that he was the one who had him pinned against the beige and lifeless wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Liz standing in the doorway, sending him a sympathetic look. She did not appear angry at his display of violence, rather she had sympathy in her eyes; as though she understood what he was feeling. She had been there when he saw Marcel; she knew what the loss was doing to him. “Take a walk.”

Vincent let Klaus go and he all but stormed past them both. Every agent and officer turned their head; either avoiding his gaze or gaping at him. Not sure if his temper could handle looking at any of them, Klaus stormed out of the police station; slamming the front door behind him. He gripped the railings that faced the parking lot, his knuckles going white in the process. He eyes closed but all he could see was the dead body of his friend. The pure rage and fury still radiating from him.

“Klaus?” A soft voice came from beside him and he turned to see Caroline standing a few paces from him; Bonnie behind her. Klaus looked over the shoulder of both woman and saw agents Rosza and Vanchure lingering behind them. She had a worried expression on her face and stepped forward, placing her hand on his forearm. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Klaus told her, tossing a humorless laugh in her direction. “Marcel is dead. Murdered by the same psychopath who kidnapped you.” Caroline nodded, completely unsurprised and could not help but noticed how she froze in place. Liz would have told her, he assumed and for some reason, that only infuriated him further. Seeing her, hearing Vincent’s warning in his head and the thought of being removed from her case sent a fresh wave of anger down in spine. “Maybe if I hadn’t been so distracted, he would still be alive.”

“Distracted? What?”

“Maybe if I hadn’t been so worried about you, I might have been able to save my best friend. Instead, what was I doing? I was with you. It always comes down to you doesn’t it? You have my guard down and my thoughts clouded that I didn’t see what happened last night. I should have realized that the killer would use my affection for you as a distraction to send me a message. The moment I saw that note I should have turned around and gone back to my motel. But I was too blinded by you to think clearly.” Klaus yelled at her, not caring who heard or the consequences of what he was admitting.

Caroline pulled her hand from his form arm as though she had been burned. The look on her face shifted from concern to pure agony. The hurt sent a wave of shame through Klaus, tempering his rage; but quickly that agony Caroline was feeling shifted to anger. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t you dare blame this on me.” Caroline hissed at him in a low tone. Klaus began to retort, an apology on his lips but Caroline held up a single finger, silencing him; something no one else was capable of doing that Klaus could remember. “You’re hurt and angry and you should be. But do not think for one second that I am going to stand here and take your abuse. You’re lashing out because your friend died. I get it but once you’re able to get control of yourself and apologize, and really mean it, don’t talk to me; especially not like this. I deserve more than to be your scapegoat.” She turned on her heels and walked back over to Bonnie, who was giving Klaus a cold glare. Caroline looked back over her shoulder at him. “When you’re done throwing a temper tantrum, come find me and we can talk about Marcel.”

Caroline walked towards Rosza and Vanchure, telling them to take her home. Bonnie was still standing in front of him, sending Klaus the coldest glare she could muster. For a moment, Klaus thought he was about to receive another lecture, but Bonnie did nothing more than shake her head at him in disappointment and chase after Caroline. Klaus watched them go, a fresh wave of shame echoing through him. She had come to see if he was okay, and three seconds after her arrival he had done nothing but lash out at her. He wanted to chase after her and apologize but he figured that it would only make things worse.

Klaus shook his head and walked in the other direction. He found himself sitting on the small picnic tree that Caroline and himself sat at only a week prior. It felt like a million years had passed. Things were far simpler then, even though it was only a few days. He found Caroline to be strong and fascinating but now, his feeling for her were far deeper rooted than they had been previously. Klaus was not a hopeless romantic and could not call it love; it was too soon for that, but he could see himself falling for her easily if they were given the time. If he had met her outside of this case; when she hadn’t just been traumatized, Klaus would be beyond happy. Perhaps, finding the end to very long and dark tunnel he had been wading through.

Yet, that was not the case. Caroline was a witness and Klaus was jeopardizing the capture of a serial killer because he could not focus on anything else. He should take a step back. He should let her go and never look back, but he couldn’t. Klaus did not love Caroline, but he sure as hell was falling. Seeing her hurt face at his words only made his shitty day worse.

Marcel was dead.

He remembered the first time he met Marcel. He was only a few years younger than himself and he was on the phone with his grandmother. The gentle tone he used with the old woman told Klaus everything he needed to know about the man. His first assumptions were that Marcel was not going to make it. Klaus all but told him so during his training. Marcel set out to prove him wrong; and succeeded. Now he was dead, and Klaus had wished that he was right the moment he had met the other agent. Klaus wondered who would be the one to call that old woman who loved Marcel more than life’s itself. Typically, it would be Vincent, a job Klaus did not envy, but in this Klaus decided it should be him. When this case was over, he would drive to New Orleans and tell that old woman who helped raised Marcel that her grandson was dead. Maybe Klaus would even track down his mother, if she would care to learn about her son’s death.

Klaus was unsure how much time passed but after a while, he saw Vincent walking across the yard towards him with a file in hand. Klaus signed, but said nothing as his boss sat down beside him. Vincent was silent for a moment before turning to Klaus and looking him in the eye.

“Feel better?”

“No. If anything I feel worse.”

“I suspected that.” Vincent muttered. “Want to tell me what that was with Ms. Forbes?” Klaus turned to him and tossed him a look. “Neither one of you were quiet and frankly, that lovers spat answered every single one of my concerns about the relationship between the two of you.”

“I’m not going to apologize or back off.”

“Damn it, Klaus. I should write you up and take you off this case. I trained you better than this.” Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in annoyance; it was a motion that the man had done many times in regard to Klaus. “Getting involved with a witness is enough for a good defense attorney to get a mistrial. I should not just pull you off this case, I should suspend you!”

“Go ahead. I don’t care.” Klaus told him, suddenly not caring about what Vincent could do to him. “Pull me from the case, suspend me if you want. It won’t change anything. I’m not leaving town until this bastard is taken in. After that, I’m done. I quit.”

“Klaus, you’re being rash.” Vincent snapped but Klaus turned to him and narrowed his eyes. He shook his head. “For fucks sake, you are nothing more than a pain in my ass. Your temper has caused me more than one headache and Marcel was the only agent who could stand to work with you but behind all of that you’re a damn good agent and damn good at your job; your unprofessionalism with Ms. Forbes aside. Marcel’s murder is shocking and awful, and honestly has me pissed as well but do not let that lead you to making a rash decision.”

“It is not a rash decision.” Klaus admitted, staring off into the empty lawn. “It was something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Before this case came to our attention, I was going to turn in my notice.” Vincent inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Klaus wanted to be flattered by the slump in his boss’s shoulders. “Whether you fire me, or I quit, once this case is solved, I’m done. I can’t do it anymore. This job, I can’t take it. Maybe that makes me weak, I don’t know but I just can’t anymore”

“You lasted longer than most and you’re far from weak.” Vincent muttered but looked towards Klaus as though he was seeing him with fresh eyes. “Jesus, I’m going to regret this. Fine. You can stay on the case, but you will listen to me. If I say jump, you jump. Got it?” Klaus said nothing but just looked at Vincent; not caring about the man’s opinion or rules. He was done following them. Marcel was dead. He no longer wanted to work for the bureau. Vincent shook his head and handed over the file in his hand. “Davina got something.” Klaus took the file and flipped it open. His eyes widened at the words and the fog that was clouding his mind all morning seemed lifted. “I already sent agents to pick her up. She will be here shortly.”

“Bring her to the station?” Klaus asked, his eyes flying over the information Davina, Vincent’s contact at the DEA, sent over. Marcel and Klaus had always traveled to their suspects, never having enough to forcefully bring someone in to being interrogated. “You got a warrant signed that fast?”

“Dead federal agent will get you anything. At this point, I could bring the whole town in and hold them for as long as the law would allow.” Vincent’s tone was bitter and angry. Klaus envied the influence and power his boss had; he was able to get things that Klaus would have been denied. He knew it came with the position he held and the diplomatic hoops he had to jump through that Klaus detested. Klaus had been up for a management position before and never once had he considered taking it.

“Perhaps we should.” Klaus shut the file, his mind going a mile a minute. Marcel had been right, follow the drugs and it would lead to something. He had only wished Davina was able to come through sooner. Maybe Marcel would still be alive. “Do you think she had something to do with it?”

“We’re about to find out.” Vincent nodded towards the parking lot, seeing the black SUV pull into a spot. Klaus watched as two agents he was not too familiar with pull a young woman with long brown hair from the back seat. She was wearing scrubs and she was handcuffed; a fact that did not surprise Klaus.

Elena Gilbert was not one who would want to come quietly.

“Let’s do this.” Klaus muttered and the two agents stood, watching Elena being all but dragged into the police station. Klaus and Vincent followed them inside. Klaus went to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup of coffee, waiting for the agents to stick Elena in a small interrogation room. They wanted Elena to sweat for a few minutes before they pounced on her. As Klaus drank his coffee, the caffeine helping to sooth the anger he still felt, he read over the file Vincent had given him. Thirty minutes later, Vincent appeared in the kitchenette, having debriefed the agents and motioned for Klaus to follow him.

“You’ve dealt with Ms. Gilbert before?”

“Yes. She is not my biggest fan.”

“Good. Use that.” Vincent turned the knob on the interrogation room door and allowed Klaus to enter first. Elena was sitting on the other side of a steel table, arms crossed and an annoyed look upon her face. Behind those brown eyes, Klaus could see genuine worry, but it was drowned out by the defiance she had come to know with Elena. Klaus sat across from her, setting the file down in front of him, while Vincent just leaned against the back wall; it had been a long time since he interrogated anyone with Vincent by his side. Not since the early days of his training.

“Good afternoon, Elena.” Klaus told her, looking directly in her eyes as he folded his hands over the file. “Early this morning, my partner Special Agent Marcel Gerard was shot in the head and murdered. So, believe me when I tell you that I am not in the mood for games. You will be honest with me or this can go very badly.”

“I’m sorry for your loss but I have nothing to say to you.”

“See the man behind me. He is my boss and he is ready to throw this entire town into a jail cell if someone doesn’t start talking, and he will start with you.” Klaus was pleased as Elena’s eyes flickered towards Vincent before returning her glare to Klaus. There was an air of entitlement to Elena that made Klaus think she believed that nothing bad could happen to her. Klaus, knowing that his bias was speaking, wanted nothing more than to prove to her that she was completely wrong. He wanted to turn her entire world upside down, not just for the things she had done to Caroline; but because of the death of his friend as well. He flipped open the file in front of him and peered at the words. “Tell me about what happened in November of last year at Whitmore Hospital.”

“Nothing.” Elena shrugged as though she was innocent, but Klaus just glared at her. “I got suspended for a few days. That’s it. I stayed home and then within a couple days I was back at work, moving on with my life.”

“Says here that a large supply of Dilaudid went missing.” Still Elena did not react. “The drugs were checked out under your key card and when the theft was discovered, you were brought in by the medical board for questioning. The theft was reported to the authorities but then miraculously you were back at work. How is it that this was covered up and you did not lose your job, let alone face jail time?” Elena said nothing, but instead just stared at Klaus.

“Answer him. Now.” Vincent replied, a tone of authority that made Elena wince.

“Damon donated a sum of money that the hospital needed to add on to their maternity ward. In exchange, I got to keep my job.” Elena replied in a matter- of-fact tone as though the news of Damon buying her job was an everyday occurrence; something that the average person would have been able to do. Klaus laughed, seriously amused by the answer. “What’s funny?”

“Is that when it started? Your affair with your fiancé’s brother?” Klaus asked, Vincent shifting behind him. Vincent had not been aware of the affair between Damon and Elena; or rather, that she had been engaged to Damon’s brother Stefan. All he knew was that Elena was Damon’s alibi for the night of Caroline’s disappearance. It was a small detail that neither Klaus nor Marcel found relevant to the case, outside of an alibi. Apparently, they were wrong. “Where was Stefan?”

“Out of town. Like always.”

“I see.” Klaus replied, suddenly enjoying toying with her. Seeing her squirm almost made him forget that Marcel was dead. If he pretended hard enough, Marcel was in that room with him, questioning Elena. “The theft of the Dilaudid was covered up but the drugs were never returned to the hospital. What did you do with them?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? I doubt that.” Klaus leaned in closer to her, his eyes narrowing. “The woman who you claimed to be a good friend was kidnapped and drugged the same type of medication you stole eight months earlier. That does not seem like a coincidence to me.” Elena just huffed and shook her head, leaving against the metal chair. “You want to be a good friend to Caroline? Because let’s be honest, you’ve been a shit one thus far. Not only did you have sex with your fiancé’s brother, you had sex with your friend’s ex-boyfriend. The same one who put her in the hospital!” Elena said nothing still, but Klaus could see the tears pooling in her eyes. “What did you do with the drugs?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you give them to Damon? Is that why he paid off the hospital, so you didn’t lose your job?”

“No.”

“Is he the one killing these women?”

“No.”

“Then who is Elena?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.” Klaus hissed. Elena refused to look at him, but she had gone tense. “Four women are dead and one of your best friends almost ended up just like them. My partner and friend were murdered by the same monster who you gave these drugs too. How much more blood do you want on your hands, Elena?”

“What I want is a lawyer.” Klaus gave a bitter laugh and sat back on his chair. Elena still refused to look at him, but he could tell she was cracking. However, he could no longer question her once she asked to have a lawyer present. Klaus turned to look at Vincent, and he could see the calculation in his superior’s eyes.

“Fine. We will have one brought in for you.” Vincent replied in a cool tone. Elena’s shoulder’s slumped in relief, something both men noticed. “Until then Agent Mikaelson will escort you down to one of the holding cells.”

“What?!” Elena cried out, looking between Vincent and Klaus. Clearly, she had thought that by requesting a lawyer, it was a get out of jail free card. However, that was not case nor how the system worked. “You can’t do that?!”

“Yes, Ms. Gilbert. I can.” Vincent told her, walking to the table and picking up the file that sat in front of Klaus. “I can hold you for seventy-two hours and I will until you tell me what I want to know. Lawyer or no lawyer, I will get answers. Take her to a cell Klaus.” With that, Vincent strolled out of the room as Klaus was rising from his seat.

“What are you doing!?” Elena asked him but Klaus said nothing. Instead he gripped Elena by the forearm and pulled her from the chair. He led her out of the room and down the hall, her fighting him the entire way. “Let go of me!”

Klaus remained silent but did not let go of her arm. He all but dragged her down the hall and towards a set of doors that lead to the jail cells. He bustled past the deputy on duty, whose name tag Klaus did not bother to read, seemed startled at their sudden appearance and demanded the keys to one of the cells. Flabbergasted, the deputy handed over the keys and Klaus tossed Elena into one; slamming it shut behind her.

Klaus would be lying if seeing her terrified and distraught face did not bring some sort of satisfaction to him.

“Agent Mikaelson! Let me out! Please!” Elena shouted after him as he left; ignoring her. He gave the deputy strict instructions not to listen to her nor to let anyone himself and Vincent down to see her; with the exception of her lawyer. He climbed back up the stairs to the station and saw Vincent on the phone. He waived Klaus over to him just has he was disconnecting the call.

“I could hear her screaming from here.” Vincent replied and Klaus snorted. “That was Davina. She is going to see if she can find anything else on the Dilaudid. I don’t think she will find anything, Ms. Gilbert gave the drugs to somebody, and unless they sold them and it was caught by one of the DEA agents, it is unlikely those particular drugs will surface again.”

“Too small of a town. I don’t think Mystic Falls knew what an FBI agent looked like before all this let alone someone from the DEA.” Klaus paused, taking a deep breath. “When this is over, I want to tell Marcel’s family that he died, I want it to be the last thing I do as an agent. I was closest with him, I’ve met them on several occasions, they deserve to hear it from me.” Vincent turned to look at Klaus for a second, tempted to refuse the request. Klaus made it very clear that once this case is done, he was gone. “Please.”

“Okay.” Vincent nodded, and gripped Klaus’s shoulder in understanding. At the end of the day, Klaus and Vincent had their differences but they knew that they had some semblance for respect for the other; especially when they did not have to deal with one another. “We are no longer staying at the motel. I got the funds to rent out a small bed and breakfast, the only one in town, for the time being. It is ours alone so there will be no foot traffic outside the little old lady that owns it. Where is your go bag?”

“In my SUV.”

“Okay. Good.” Vincent nodded. “I think we should call it a day. Unless Davina comes up with something or Elena decides to speak, there is not much else we can do. I doubt an attorney will be here before morning. Plus, a night in jail might be enough for her.” Klaus nodded in agreement. Vincent looked at him in contemplation. They both knew that when Klaus walked out of that police station, he wasn’t going to the bed and breakfast. Vincent wanted to hold him there but knew he couldn’t. He could take Klaus off the case, but he would not leave town. There was little Vincent could do other than hope that none of this blew up in his face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right.” Klaus turned and walked away from his boss, stepping out into sunlight. It would be a few hours before it went down, but Klaus felt as though the day had lasted a millennium. He never felt more at a crossroads in his life and yet despite everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, he had never been more certain of his decision. He told Caroline that he was going to turn in his resignation the day her case was presented to him, and that was true, but even then, he waivered. It was a leap that he was not sure he was fully ready for.

Now he had never been certain of anything else.

As he reached his car, Klaus climbed into the vehicle and pulled out his phone. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and dialed the familiar number. He listened to it ring, knowing it would be late in England, but he could not put this phone call off. Perhaps he should wait until he spoke to Marcel’s family, but she would never forgive him if he did.

“Nik?” Chimed the voice of his little sister.

“Hey Bex.”

“I was about to climb into bed. What is it?” There a hesitant tone in her voice. Out of all his siblings, he spoke to Elijah and Rebekah the most, but he rarely called them out of the blue, especially when he knew it would be late for them. “What is wrong?”

“It’s Marcel.” Rebekah sucked in a breath. “He’s dead.” Klaus’s voice broke at the news and hearing Rebekah give out a sob on the other end only drove the shards in deeper. The relationship between Marcel and Rebekah was probably the worst mistake of both of their lives but Klaus knew that even with everything, they had loved one another at the start. “I know the two of you hadn’t spoken in a while, but I wanted you hear it from me.”

“How?”

“He was murdered.”

“Did you find the bastard?”

“I’m working on it.” Hearing Rebekah’s sniff on the other end told him everything that he needed to know. If anyone still had faith in Klaus, it was is baby sister, even if he had no faith in himself at the moment. “You’ll be okay? Call that friend of yours. The one I don’t like.”

“Genevieve?” Rebekah laughed lightly. “I will. I’ll be fine, okay. You just…..stay safe please?”

“Always and forever.” Klaus vowed. It was a little promise that Klaus had made with his siblings in the aftermath of their mother’s death and Mikael’s trial. They all stood behind Klaus and despite all of that, Klaus felt that he was the one who kept to that promise the least. “I love you Bex.”

“Love you too Nik. Thank you for telling me.” With that, Klaus hung up the phone and tossed it on the seat. He took a few deep breathes and started the car. He pulled out of the police station parking lot and drove through the small town; his mind wandering. Everything seemed strange and normal at the same time. Part of him wanted to drive to that motel, expecting to find Marcel there. Another part of him wanted to pick up his phone and dial his number; hearing some insult from him as a greeting. Yet, he knew none of that would happen again.

He should drive to the bed and breakfast, check in and try and get some sleep; but Klaus knew that was not going to happen. Despite being up for over twenty-four hours, Klaus would not be able to sleep. In that case, he should check in anyway and call Elijah; who would probably be awake anyway feeding his newborn baby. Klaus felt an urge to see that little girl more than he ever had before. Hell, he would even take seeing Finn’s two kids at the moment; or even Kol and listen to whatever situation his younger brother found himself in.

Instead, he found himself parked outside a little house in the middle of Mystic Falls. He saw an SUV similar to his parked outside but neither Rosza nor Vanchure was the ones stationed in it. Made sense, those two would need to sleep at some point two. They had been replaced by two different agents and Klaus frankly did not care who they were.

He climbed out of the SUV and made his way up the brick walkway and onto the small porch. He knocked lightly, knowing that she would be home. He could see a shadow on the other side of the door, hesitating. After a second, Klaus heard the knob turn and the door opened to reveal a tired looking Caroline. Neither exchanged words; neither knowing where to begin. Caroline however, simply stepped aside, opened the door wide enough for Klaus to step over the threshold and closed it behind them.

[horrorkingdom]

First Published: “The Corpse in Coffee Creek-Secrets of Ohio’s Tragic Triangle,” by Detective Otto H. Diskowski, Homicide Squad, Cleveland Police Department, as told to R. Rodgers, True Detective Mysteries, May, 1938.

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CHARLES SALWAY SLOWLY MADE HIS way home across the small culvert over Coffee Creek. His farm was just outside Mesopotamia, Ohio, and almost daily he walked down State Road 57 and crossed the creek to get to his field.

This afternoon of September 24th, 1936, there was an autumn tang in the air. It would not be long before frost would be on the ground and farming would be over for the season. He, his wife and his father had put in a good day’s work out there—the sort of work that gave a man an appetite and made him think longingly of his fireside and slippers.

Salway leaned for a moment on the rail, waiting for the others to catch up to him. Maybe next day he would bring out his fishing tackle and try his luck. Sometimes a man could get a pretty good string out of Coffee Creek.

The farmer’s eyes focused sharply. Directly underneath was an odd looking object. As the man’s family joined him at the railing, he pointed, wordlessly, to the bobbing horror in the water. Mrs. Salway gasped.

“What is it, Charles?” she asked.

Her husband was still staring. “It looks like a man,” he whispered.

Mrs. Salway shuddered. “A man? But where is the rest of him?”

The farmer gulped. “It looks like it’s just his head down there.”

His father nodded. “Yes, I don’t see anybody.”

The trio noted the closed eyes, and the purple, blotched face. Leaving the older man to keep watch at the culvert; young Salway raced for a telephone. “There’s a dead man out near my farm on Route 57,” he told the police. “I’ll wait there until you come out. He’s in the creek.”

Charles Salway returned to the grim vigil. He studied the face of the man in the water. Folks in that section of the country all knew each other. But neither Salway nor his father had ever seen the dead man before.

Sheriff Roy Hardman and Captain George C. Salen of the Warren police, lost no time getting to the scene. Accompanying them were several officers and Coroner J. C. Renshaw of Trumbull County. The farmer flagged them to a stop and excitedly pointed to his find.

“First we thought it was just a head, Sheriff,” he said, “but now I can see where the body is weighted down with something, so that just the head sticks out

It was a grotesque sight that greeted the officials. The water lapped gently against the dead face, tossing it from side to side. Releasing the body from what held it might prove to be a task.

In a short time, dozens of people flocked to see what the excitement was.

The officers, assisted by bystanders, finally extricated the body and laid it out on the ground for the Coroner’s inspection. While he went about his work, Sheriff Hardman and Captain Salen examined the wire with which the victim had been trussed and the heavy concrete slab attached to the corpse.

“Whoever did it,” the Sheriff remarked, “must have felt pretty sure it would be a long time before this thing rose to the surface. But the weight slipped down around the feet and there was enough buoyancy in the body to let the head float to the surface. No wonder it looked like a head without a body.”

“Looks like the fellow was pretty well beaten before being tossed into the creek,” Salen commented. “It’s the kind of beating gangsters give their double-crossers.”

The Sheriff shrugged. There might be some truth in that theory. The spot where the body was found is not far from Youngstown and only about forty miles out of Cleveland. Perhaps some rival city gangsters had been warring. Or maybe the killing was the outcome of strike trouble in the Youngstown steel area.

Coroner Henshaw estimated that the corpse had been in the water a week. There was not much else he could discover without a thorough examination, and the body was taken to the morgue at West Farmington.

After questioning the neighboring farmers and failing to find anyone who had heard or noticed anything unusual during the past week or ten days, the officers went to the morgue to search for a clue to the man’s identity.

Preliminary examination of his clothing revealed little—a few cents and the usual odds and ends. In a hidden inside coat pocket, apparently overlooked by the killers, the officers found a worn leather wallet.

Eagerly the contents were spilled on the table. The clue they seized upon was an identification card of a common type. Unless the murderers had been clever enough ‘to put it there to throw the police off the trail, it should reveal the identity of the dead man. It bore the name of Charles Steffes, Jr., and an address in Cleveland.

There was a space on the card classified “In Case of Accident Notify . . .” And next to it were the words, “Catherine Bunjevac, 1144 East 76th Street, Cleveland, Ohio.”

“Well, boys, that gives us something to start with,” Captain Salen announced. “We’d better get in touch with the Cleveland police and see what they know of Steffes.” The report of the murder came into Cleveland Headquarters over the wire that evening and Detective Lieutenant Jack Zeman took down the details.

He called in Detectives Carl Ziccarelli and Ralph McNeil, who were working on the four-to-midnight shift. “Just had word of a body being found in Coffee Creek,” he told them. “Check up on Charles Steffes, Jr., at 1328 East 53rd Street. And see what you can learn from a girl named Catherine Bunjevac at 1144 East 76th Street.”

Things began to hum. A quick check with the files revealed a record on Steffes. He had been arrested and charged with auto theft about a year before. He had pleaded guilty and, since it was his first offense, had been placed on probation. Further details disclosed he was an auto mechanic and twenty-six years old.

It was hardly the record of a person who might be involved in gang wars, but in the Police Department we learn to expect anything and consider everything a possibility until proved otherwise.

If he were a Clevelander and had been dead a week, perhaps someone had reported his disappearance to the Bureau of Missing Persons. A check-up here disclosed that on Sunday, September 20th, a call had come into the Bureau. A worried feminine voice had reported a disappearance.

“I’m worried about my friend, Charles Steffes, Jr.,” the caller said over the telephone. “I had a date with him last Thursday night and he said then that he’d telephone me the next day.

“He didn’t call and I thought maybe he was sick.” Her voice broke a little. “Charlie always kept his word with me. And when I found out he hadn’t been at work since Thursday and that no one had seen him at all, I got frightened.”

The officer tried to calm her. People, he told her, particularly men, often dropped out of sight for a time. Ninety-nine out of a hundred turned up again in their own good time. But this girl, who gave her name as Catherine Bunjevac, was sure Charlie Steffes had come to some harm.

“He’d never go away without telling me,” she insisted.

The report had been investigated at the time, but no trace of Charlie Steffes had been found. There was no accident victim who answered his description in the hospitals or the morgue.

That is, no one, until Charles Salway had seen the “body-less” corpse in Coffee Creek. It began to look as if woman’s intuition as to trouble had again proven correct. What Catherine Bunjevac had feared had apparently come true.

But supposing the corpse was that of young Steffes, the identification was just the beginning of the job. All we knew was that a girl named Catherine Bunjevac was to be notified in case of accident and that this same girl had reported him missing.

The department began to get busy in earnest. Detectives Ziccarelli and McNeil went out to check on Steffes, at the address in his wallet. This turned out to be a rooming house, run by Rudolph Zupanic. Here, Steffes had lived with his brother.

Both Zupanic and the victim’s brother, when interviewed, insisted they knew nothing of the garage mechanic’s whereabouts. The proprietor of the rooming house eagerly told the meager facts he knew about his lodger.

“Steffes left the house last Thursday night and we haven’t seen him since. He was rather close-mouthed about his affairs and never said where he was going or when he’d be back.”

Steffes’ brother confirmed this statement. “I haven’t any idea where Charlie could be. He just went out and didn’t come back. Several people have been asking for him since he left.” He shrugged. “He might be anywhere.”

His brother seemed to take his absence rather lightly, apparently confident that in due time he would turn up again. At the garage where Steffes was employed, the proprietor had the same attitude.

“He hasn’t been around for a week. Guess maybe he just decided to quit. A little guy came around a couple of times looking for him. Don’t know who he was.”

Was this “little guy” one of those who had called at the rooming house to inquire about the missing man? That was another angle to be investigated.

The garage owner gave the boy a good send-off. “He was a conscientious worker. Seemed serious-minded and said he was saving his money.”

When a young man who has had a previous brush with the law, settles down and talks about saving his money, experience has taught us there’s usually one reason—a woman. “Find the woman” is the detective’s old adage, and often a very successful one. In this case, the name of the woman had providentially been delivered into our hands.

But, before questioning Catherine Bunjevac, the detectives sought Steffes’ sister, whose address they had obtained at the rooming house. She had new information to give.

“Charlie and Catherine were at my house last Thursday evening (Sept. 17, 1936). We had a lot of fun kidding around, but they had to leave early, as Charlie complained he didn’t feel well. I didn’t think it was anything serious, but it did seem that he was worried about something. Usually Charlie was very happy-go-lucky, but that night he was different—acted a little as if he were afraid of something.

“I thought it was my imagination,” she continued, “but when Kate—that’s what we call Catherine—came over here on Saturday, looking for him, I got kind of worried. It wasn’t like Charlie to miss a date. He was crazy about her. Talked about getting married.”

So the girl, whose name appeared on Steffes’ identification card, was more than just an acquaintance.

Catherine Bunjevac’s parents told the detectives that their daughter was out with her fiancé, a Mr. Miller. The officers concealed the surprise they felt at this announcement. Steffes had talked to his sister about marrying Kate, but she apparently had other plans, or at least, that’s the way it looked.

“Do you know Charles Steffes, Jr.?” they asked the Bunjevacs.

Instantly there seemed to be a chill in the atmosphere. “Yes, we know him. He frequently called on our daughter.”

“Was he in love with her?”

“Perhaps. She’s a very pretty girl. Lots of men have liked her. But we didn’t want her to go with that Steffes. He isn’t dependable. He hasn’t any money. Mr. Miller can give Catherine a nice home and an automobile. He’s the kind of suitor for our girl.”

“Well, when she comes in, tell her the police want to talk to her.”

The parents’ faces showed no emotion at the knowledge that police wished to question their daughter. If there were fear there, it was well hidden.

Very early the next morning, Miss Bunjevac appeared at Headquarters. Her parents had been right when they said their daughter was pretty. It was not hard to imagine several young men in love with her at the same time.

As Sergeant James Hogan questioned her, he noted that she seemed greatly worried about her missing friend.

“The last time I had a date with Charlie, he seemed quite upset,” she said. “I asked him to tell me what was bothering him, but he wouldn’t say.”

As the girl talked on, the background of the case became clear. Here was a fun-loving young girl, torn between duty to her parents and her own heart. Steffes appealed to her romantic tastes, but her family frowned upon him.

Miller, she explained, was a name Joseph Csonka sometimes used for business reasons. He was a wall paper hanger whom she had known for a long time, and her parents thought he would make an ideal husband for her. He was the old-fashioned type, the sort who would never give a girl any worries—nor any thrills.

But Catherine Bunjevac had liked young Steffes. He was full of fun, liked to dance and have a good time. He made Csonka seem old and dull. A common enough tragedy, up to that point. But it didn’t tell us what had been worrying Steffes that last night he was seen alive. Could he have been involved in some racket and forced to “take a ride?” Or was it perhaps another woman, whose jealous fury had spent itself on her betrayer?

We discarded the latter theory at once. The very facts of the crime told us it had to be the work of a man. Women do not transport their victims forty miles, and then dump them overboard, with a slab of concrete to weigh them down.

Detective Gordon Shibley and I went to West Farmington to verify the identification of the victim. We questioned several of the near-by residents, but could find no one who knew anything about the mysterious happenings at Coffee Creek. The killer had taken pains to cover his tracks well, and no doubt darkness had hidden his sinister work.

Delve as we would, we could find nothing to tie the victim with any gang machinations. He had, to all intents and purposes, been paying strict attention to business and behaving himself. It looked as if the explanation would have to be found closer to home.

Officers returned to question Miss Bunjevac once more. Over and over she repeated her story of her friendship with Steffes and the last time she had seen him.

“He left me at my house early Thursday evening, as he said he didn’t feel well. I thought maybe he had another date, but then I felt sure he wouldn’t go with any girl but me. He said he’d call me Friday and when he didn’t I was annoyed. Joe asked me to go out with him that night and since I hadn’t heard from Charlie, I went.”

“Did you tell Csonka about Steffes?” the girl was asked.

“Yes, I mentioned it and said I was worried as that was the first time he had ever disappointed me. Joe said not to worry about it; that he’d probably be able to explain when I saw him.”

“Did you often discuss Steffes with your other suitor?”

“Quite often. He asked me, a couple of times to give up Charlie.”

The detectives’ eyes betrayed no particular interest. “Did the boys ever fight about your attentions?”

“Of course not,” was the quick reply. “Why, Joe helped me try to find Charlie. He went to his rooming house and the garage where he worked to discover what had happened to him.”

The little thin man who had “been making such anxious inquiries for the victim, as described by Steffes’ brother and the garage owner, was Csonka, evidently. He had been trying to find the man who had cat him out, in order to set the girl’s mind at rest.

“It was Joe who made me come right down to Headquarters, when we found out you were looking for me,” Miss Bunjevac continued. “He said it was best for me to go right away.”

“How did Joe act the Friday night after Steffes’ disappearance? Was he nervous or excited?”

“Why, no,” the girl answered, surprised. “He never talks a lot, but I didn’t notice him acting nervous or anything. Why should he?”

That’s what we were asking ourselves at the moment. We had two men in love with the same girl. One brash and forward; the other, from Catherine’s description, shy, meek and self-effacing. And the brash and forward one was now dead, his head battered in. I was convinced from what I could learn around Coffee Creek, that Steffes had been killed elsewhere and his body brought out to the lonesome farm area, probably by automobile.

The body had been returned to Cleveland from the West Farmington morgue and County Pathologist Dr. Reuben Strauss went to work to determine what had caused death. What we primarily wanted to know was whether the victim was alive when tossed into the water, or whether it was his corpse that was weighted down and shoved under the culvert.

On Friday night a detail of officers was sent to Csonka’s home on East 88th Street, to question him. It was destined to be quite a wait, as he was not at home. It was five-thirty in the morning before a short, slight man mounted the steps, to be met by a group of detectives.

Csonka evidenced no surprise. He acted as if it were not at all unusual for a couple of officers to be waiting to take him down to Headquarters. He showed no curiosity as to why he must go. He offered no protest, when the men went through his personal belongings. He evinced no embarrassment when he saw his personal letters being read. These included several written, but never mailed, to Catherine Bunjevac.

Those letters seemed to coincide with the man’s colorless personality. He was admittedly in love with the girl, but there was no hint of passion in his letters. They, too, were shy and bashful.

Downstairs in the basement, Csonka showed the same lack of interest, as officers went through his storage closet. The only thing found of any possible importance was a small amount of old wire.

And when Sergeant Hogan began asking him questions that Saturday morning, he realized he was facing a man who was able to conceal every emotion. He presented a bland, expressionless face and carefully deliberated before replying. We had a suspect, it is true, but we had little more on him than any man we might pick up in the street. He was in love with the same girl as the dead man had been—but that was his only connection, thus far, with the case.

The Sergeant, however, continued his investigation. A couple of detectives went out to find Csonka’s car. While they were gone, the report of Dr. Strauss came in and with it, the first ray of light. Steffes had been struck a hard blow on the head, but that had not caused his death. Water in his lungs indicated that he had been alive when tossed into the creek. He had died from drowning. That meant that the murderer, if and when we caught him, would be tried in the district in which the victim died—and those country juries are tough.

We decided to use a little old-fashioned psychology on Csonka. Detective Shibley and I brought him to the garage, and, with Sergeant Hogan and Coroner Arthur J. Pearse of Cuyahoga County, in which Cleveland is located, we started out on the ride to Mesopotamia and Coffee Creek. We were heading for the spot where Steffes’ battered body had been found. We had a little plan in mind and were eager to find out if it would work. The coolest, the calmest, the most collected criminal will often go to pieces when he is forced to revisit the scene of his crime. Dreams often will hound a guilty man into clearing his conscience, but a compulsory viewing of the spot will usually do it more quickly.

We did not do a lot of talking on that ride. Csonka continued to answer politely all questions put to him. Sergeant Hogan encouraged him to talk about himself. He nodded sympathetically when Csonka complained of business being slow. Csonka mentioned that he usually carried his tools—brushes and pails—in his car. Was he in love with Catherine Bunjevac? Sure, sure.

“You know, Sergeant,” he said to Hogan, “I think some gangsters got after Steffes. Probably took him for a ride. You know he was mixed up in some bad company for a while there.”

We did not answer. We were waiting for the psychological moment to outline to him what we thought had happened. But that time had not arrived as yet.

Coffee Creek looked far from sinister in the bright daylight. The foliage was just beginning to turn and the countryside was rich in autumnal hues. Everything spoke of peace, and quiet, restful living. It seemed hardly the spot for violence and death. Yet a man’s badly beaten body had been tossed into that creek and its calm water had taken his dying breath.

I took Csonka over toward the east rail and waited with him while the Coroner and Sergeant Hogan talked things over. I knew what was coming and encouraged the man’s nervousness by a complete silence and apparent indifference as to what was going on.

As the two officers conversed, their voices carried clearly on the still air. Hogan was outlining to Pearse what had happened. Csonka was the only one there who didn’t know that the Sergeant was putting on a little dramatic act.

“I think we’ve got this fellow,” Hogan was saying. “It all links up. Two of my men found his car, took a look in it and what do you suppose they found?”

“What ?” asked Pearse, all interest.

“Blood on the upholstery.”

“No!”

“Yes! And one of the windows was smashed. I think that happened when this bird Csonka swung at him with the brush and missed.”

“Brush?” asked Pearse.

“Didn’t you know we found a heavy paste brush in his car with blood on it? He hit Steffes over the head with his paste brush,” the Sergeant went on. “Again and again he struck him. Then when he thought he was dead, he drove out into the country and tossed the body overboard. He weighted it down to make sure it wouldn’t be discovered.”

Hogan paused dramatically as they came over to where we were standing. “Is that the way it happened, Csonka?” he asked suddenly.

I watched the man who was standing so close to me. I had thought of him as meek and mild—hardly the type to become involved in a murder case. But before my eyes I saw an amazing change take place. As he listened to Hogan’s outline of what might have happened that fatal September 17th, Csonka s eyes glittered. It was almost as if he were reliving the crime, and enjoying it. The meekness was gone and replaced by an expression of burning hate.

Abruptly he turned and faced us. “Sure, I killed him. I did it.”

The confession, unexpected as it was, did not give us all we wanted. We had to have details—proof to stand up in a trial. It was not a Cleveland case, but it was up to us to get Csonka talking.

Once he had started, the paperhanger seemed eager to tell the whole story and get it off his mind. I marveled at this shy little man, who, for more than a week had gone about his affairs as usual, but with a horrible secret hidden behind his meek, colorless face. He had even joined in the search for his victim, apparently seeing this would ingratiate him into the favor of Miss Bunjevac. And all the time he had known that the man she loved and waited for was lying in the cold waters of Coffee Creek, a heavy slab weighting him down.

Csonka opened up in earnest on the ride back to Cleveland. The story was even more grim and cold-blooded than we had conceived.

“I was ready to marry the girl. I wanted her. I was getting along fine and had a good business and good prospects. I could have given her things. I was in love with her and she seemed to like me well enough,” Csonka added, “until that Steffes fellow came along last April. Then things changed.”

I could picture this little paperhanger paying his court more to the parents than the daughter, much as they did in the old country. He loved the girl, in his fashion, and a great rage began working in his slow mind, when he found himself being cut out.

“That Steffes was just a no-good, a bum. I used to follow the two of them around and spy on them. A couple of times I met him and begged him to give up the girl. But always he just laughed and told me to beat it.

“And once,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “he told me Catherine wanted to marry a man. He insulted me.”

Steffes, knowing that the girl preferred him, and with the confidence of youth, had laughed tormentingly at the other man. And with that laugh he had sealed his doom.

“I met Steffes early in the week and told him I knew he had been in jail,” the paperhanger went on. “I threatened to tell the Bunjevacs what I knew, so they’d make Kate give him up.

“Steffes tried to laugh it off, but I told him it was time for a showdown. I told him to meet me Thursday night and he said he’d try to get away early enough to make it.”

That meeting, then, was what the garage mechanic had on his mind the last night his sister and his sweetheart had seen him. The story of feeling ill had been invented to make sure he would get away in time for the meeting he dreaded. The girl’s intuition that something was worrying him had been correct.

The men met by appointment at a beer parlor on East 53rd Street. Csonka began pleading with him to step out of the picture. Steffes drank stein after stein of beer and quickly lost his former dread. The oddly matched couple moved on from one beer place to another. At each they consumed several drinks, Steffes switching to liquor as the night wore on.

Once again in Csonka’s car, they continued the discussion, the murderer said.

“Sitting in the car at East 70th and Quincy. I told Steffes he’d have to give up the girl. He got mad at that, and took out a whisky bottle he had in his pocket. He swung it at me and I got scared. He was bigger than me and I reached in back of the car for my paste brush. I grabbed hold of it and hit him over the head.”

Csonka stopped a moment, as if remembering. A shudder shook his slight frame. He was thinking perhaps of the sickening thud each blow had made on the victim’s head. Then he continued:

“I had to hit him a lot of times before he became quiet. Then I got panicky and pushed his body into the back seat.”

It was evident that Csonka had believed his victim dead after the first blows. He even stopped to change a tire on his car before driving into his own garage.

“I stayed in the garage a while, not knowing just what I ought to do. I was scared someone might come’ in while he was there. And then—” his eyes widened with horror—”Steffes came to life again and started to fight some more.”

I could visualize the terror of the man, as his victim suddenly showed signs of life, when he believed him dead.

“This time I hit him with a heavy iron clamp and he lay still.”

Poor Charlie Steffes. His vitality must have been great, indeed, to withstand a series of such blows. The report showed without any question that he had been still breathing when tossed into the creek.

“I went around the corner to my house and got some wire and a big chunk -of concrete from under our garbage can. I tied him up and then started out to find some place to dump the body.”

And then came the most amazing part of this gruesome story. The killer had driven nearly fifty miles through the night, with the trussed-up body of his victim in the back of his car. And at each bridge and culvert he had stopped. With his flashlight he had peered into the water, trying to determine its depth. Joe Csonka was looking for water deep enough to-cover all evidence of his crime.

[chalcid]

General Jack O’Lantern

She grew up on a farm, and like most little girls, had dreams of a better life. She wanted fame and riches and glory.

Her uncles laughed and mocked her, especially Great Uncle Sammy, who didn’t believe in anything he couldn’t smell.

She left home young, like most of those in pursuit of fame. Fifteen years old, off for war. As she shook the reins and the mule pulled the cart away, Great Uncle Sammy called out don’t forget us when yer famous.

They all laughed at that.

Six weeks of training. It was hard work, but she was strong and she had been working hard all her life.

In her first battle, she went face to face with Shadarack, the Scourge of the Southeast. He wasn’t the worst the Dark Lord had to offer, but he would be defeated by no private.

Whistling as he worked, he left his scars on the victim. A triangle around each eye and a jagged smiling mouth, before stabbing her in the stomach and leaving her to die.

She lay on the ground, staring up at the sky as blood trickled from his marks, clouding her vision and mixing with her tears. Red and orange leaves, and snow, just light dusting of white crystals.

They put her on the cart with the dead. Hot flesh, beginning to rot. The smell, oh god, the smell was unlike anything she had ever smelled before. She sat up and grabbed the cart driver. He screamed, the cart swerved and bodies tumbled out into the snowy ditch.

She walked two miles in the snow, leaving a trail of red behind her. She should have died that day, people would whisper. And though what she had done was remarkable, people were scared, and so, to make themselves feel safer, they mocked her and her scars. Jack O’ Lantern, she was dubbed.

Her captain died the next week, murdered brutally by the Troll King. She avenged him and was an awarded a medal by the King of the Southeast. He called her Jack O’ Lantern in the ceremony.

After that, she gave up correcting people about the nickname. She was known as Captain Jack O’ Lantern. On her first mission as captain, she and the army stormed Shadarack’s Fortress.

Be grateful I had more mercy on you than you had on me, Captain Jack O’ Lantern told him. She stabbed him in the heart and watched him die.

Another promotion, another medal. They bumped her all the way up to General. She was stuck in a war room with a bunch of fellow advisers of the king. They tended to disagree with everything she said, no matter how right it was. The crown prince kept trying to win her over with roses. She no longer loved fairy tales, and she had never especially liked the ones with princes, true love, and all that jazz.

The king’s heart was in the right place, but he was weak. No matter how many attack plans she drew up for the Dark Lord’s Palace, he refused every time. The cost of the battle was too much, the death count would be too high.

General Jack O’ Lantern wanted to tell him that dragging out this war would result in a much higher death count then any one battle.

It was a tough choice. Maybe it wasn’t hers to make, but someone had to do something. The Dark Lord didn’t let anything slow him down, and that’s why he was so powerful. Maybe they could take a tip from him. Cut away the weakness.

She chanted the words to herself, murmuring them softly under her breath like a wicked lullaby. Dagger clenched in hand, eyes narrowed. Her scars hurt.

The king smiled at her, began to say something. She had to do it now, before she lost her nerve. The dagger plunged into his heart. He died just as his expression began to melt from delight to horror.

General Jack O’ Lantern dropped his corpse, walked through a pool of blood to a bronze throne. She sat on it, gripping the armrests and trying to steady her breathing.

Father, someone called. Father? Have you seen the General anywhere?

The crown prince stepped into the light and saw her, the corpse of his father at her feet. How could you?

He was weak, she yelled back. He was weak and it’s better this way.

He took a step back. The flowers in his hand fell to the floor, white petals soaking up crimson.

I am the general, she said coldly. I have survived death time after time. You are a prince who has never left this palace. This can go one of two ways. You can rule as a figurehead or I can kill you.

The advisors were jailed, the king was buried, and the coronation was held. The crown prince was now the king. The Dark Lord was forced to flee from the land and now resides in some icy island off the coast of the Troll Kingdom.

Though what General Jack O’ Lantern had done was widely considered heroic, other kingdoms were scared of her, and when other kingdoms are scared, there’s usually a war.

Rebellion broke out across the land, aided by other kingdoms. While the textbooks fifty years in the future insisted it wasn’t a war, people put their lives on the line for a cause they may or may not have believed in.

One, an important leader, supposedly, was captured and brought before the General. Seated atop her throne of bronze, she stared down at man as the guards tried to get the burlap sack off his head.

Do ya still remember us now that yer famous, he asked sadly. My dear niece, this isn’t who you are.

I remember, she said, you mocked me, you were cruel to me in a thousand small ways. Trivial things, but things nonetheless. You laughed at me and look where I am now.

I’m so proud, he whispered.

Lies! she yelled You were never proud of me. You aren’t now. You’ve betrayed me, and you have the nerve to say you’re proud. For that, I sentence you to die.

Please, he begged.

She was a little girl with dreams of a better life

I’ll do the honors, she said as she drew her blade

Don’t forget us when yer famous.

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

Dance For Me (Traci! Kara x Human! Connor) (Chapter Four)

Authors Note- And here we are with Chapter Four of DFM. This is where things get serious, as our boy Connor gets a call about a homicide at the Eden Club aaaand... nope I say anymore and I’ll spoil the entire chapter before you even think of reading it. But I will let you know of any triggers in the story. In this chapter it will feature death, blood, and swearing courtesy of one Gavin Reed. If none of this is your cup of tea then this is where we part ways but I’ll remember our time fondly.

But if you’re cool with that then onward to Chapter Four, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Four: Investigations.

Connor hated mornings, he thought as he stifled a yawn as he walked into the breakroom in desperate need of coffee. And maybe one of Hank’s donuts the older man kept hidden, especially from a certain someone who could enjoyed making Hank and on occasion Connor’s life miserable on a near daily occurrence. 

“So, the asshole tells me that if I don’t stop what I’m doing and leave the dick I’m trying to arrest alone he’s going to call the cops.” Connor tensed as he stepped into the room, and heard an all too familiar voice. Great, just what he didn’t want to deal with today...or any day.

Glancing further into the room he saw Gavin Reed leaning against the table talking with Tina, who listened raptly to whatever story the other Detective was going on about. Shaking his head Connor ignored the other man as he made his way towards the coffee machine.  “So I look to the guy like I can’t believe him and I reach into my pocket for my badge, and I’m like I am an cop you asshole. And if you don’t stop messing with me I’m going to arrest you too. And do you think the asshole took a hint and fucked off?” Gavin continued, seeming oblivious to Connor’s presence as he continued to talk.

Tina only shook her head. Coffee untouched in her hands as she listened to him. And as Connor waited for his coffee to brew he watched the two. Resting his hip on the counter, arms crossed over his chest as he listened. Wondering why anyone ever listened to any of Gavin’s crap. Like the man in question was a god among his peers, when in reality Gavin was nothing more than a slimy, miserable, asshole with a badge. Connor could recall more than a few occasions when he or Hank would butt heads with the other Detective. And Gavin wasn’t someone to back down, or pull punches, Connor recalled more than once how Gavin had pointed out that Hank was nothing more than a worthless Detective who cared more about getting shit-faced than doing his job as a cop. 

However, Connor had jumped to Hank’s defense and basically put Gavin in his place, earning the ire of the other Detective, remembering grey eyes glaring up at him as Gavin took a few steps towards him, hands balled into fists, but thankfully Captain Fowler had stepped out of his office to break up the impending fight, but ever since then Connor could always feel Gavin’s eyes on him, or having him bump into him whenever he walked past. And Connor, never being one to rise up to any challenges from Gavin ignored it, after all, what was the point it wasn’t like Gavin ever tried anything outside of the precinct anyways. And Connor worked too hard to get where he was to ruin it because of the man before him.

And, if he was being honest. Gavin wanted to rise up the ranks anyway, so why would he ruin any chances messing with Connor? So aside from a few incidents Connor had heard through the grapevine Gavin was all talk. Shaking his head Connor poured himself a cup of coffee, and headed back to the office. Taking a seat at his desk he wondered what today would have for him. Seeing that Hank wasn’t there he could only assume the older man was back home sleeping off last nights bender. Connor couldn’t help but smile as he imagined it, the older man no doubt past out on his couch, his massive, slobbering hound Sumo cuddled up next to the man.

Shaking his head, he booted up his computer and set about going to work. Looking up only once as Gavin walked past his desk to his own, propping his feet up on his desk as he leaned back in his chair before going about his own work. The computer screen illuminating the other mans face, making the scar across the bridge of his nose stand out more, Connor wondered if he had received it in one of his many fights, the man could never shut his mouth when it mattered, hence he got into more than a few fights. Hell, Connor thought as he turned back to his own computer, typing away. It seemed the man just reveled in chaos. 

Shaking his head Connor pushed those thoughts from his head as he set about working. Muttering a hello to Hank as the man plopped down at his desk in front of him. However it wasn’t long before Captain Fowler poked his head out of his office.

“Stern, Reed, in my office.” He called out.

Blinking Connor quietly got up from his seat and followed Gavin into the office, what was going on? Why did the captain call him and Gavin? Hank was usually his partner on most cases. Casting Hank a question look, the older man only shrugged his shoulders as Connor closed the door behind him. 

“Why did you call us in here?” Gavin asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Connor stood there with his hands clasped behind his back as he stood next to Gavin, awaiting what Fowler had to say to the both of them. 

“I’m assigning you both on a case.” Fowler said, hands steepled in front of him, Connor couldn’t believe his ears. What?

“What?!” Gavin spat, sounding incredulous. “You got to be fucking joking, right?!” He asked, placing his hands on the top of Fowler’s desk, meeting the Captains eyes. Looking for any sign this was all a joke, a fucked up one but a joke none the less.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Fowler asked, leaning back in his seat. “There has been a murder at the Eden Club, the third one in a handful of months, and I want the two of you to investigate together.

“But I’m Hank’s partner he and I-” Connor started to protest.

“Hank has a few court hearings to attend to, otherwise you and him would be on this case.” Fowler cut off. 

“I can’t work with this asshole-” Gavin started, jabbing his finger at Connor, who merely scowled at him.

“Shut up, shut up, just shut your damn mouths!” Fowler shouted, silence falling over the room as the two young Detective’s shut up, looking to him.

Fowler sighed, he, like many people in the precinct knew of Connor and Gavin’s mutual dislike for each other. Hell, you’d have to be blind, deaf, and stupid not to see it. But he had no other choice, they were the only ones available for the case. 

“Look I know you two don’t like each other but I need you to get the fuck over yourselves and work on this together. There is no other option.” He said, as they looked down at him.

Finally it was Connor who broke the silence. “I understand, Captain.” He said with a nod. Gavin reluctantly agreed, Fowler watched as the two of them filed out of the office, when-

“Reed.” He called out, stopping Gavin in his tracks, making him look over his shoulder at his Captain. “I want you to know if this case goes well I will consider you request for promotion.”

Gavin’s heart skipped a beat at that. A smile formed on his lips as he nodded, fine. He could play nice with Connor until this case was over, once it was over he could kiss the cheerful little fucker goodbye, and make his way up the ladder to Lieutenant. Yeah, he could suck it up and deal with Connor for a little bit. Watching Connor grabbed his jacket off of the back of his chair he grabbed his own and shrugged it on before following after him. 

Silence continued to fall over the duo as Gavin slipped into the passenger seat, buckling up as Connor pulled out of the parking lot. “So,” Gavin started, as he peered out the window as the various buildings as they flew by. “What do you think happened?”

“What do you mean?” Connor asked. “There was a homicide.”

“Well, no shit.” Gavin spat, glaring at the man beside him. “Of course there was a homicide. But like what do you think happened?”

“We’ll find out when we get there.” Connor said.

Gavin sighed, and slumped down in his seat, saying nothing as the neon purple lights of the club came into view. Several patrol cars were parked outside the club, red and blue lights cutting through the night as the two Detective’s stepped out of the car. Gavin noted the coroners van was also here, waiting to take the body away. 

Standing perched outside the entrance were two police androids who stepped aside, allowing them in as Gavin looked around, a look of disgust on his face as he looked at the advertisements. “Sexiest androids in town?” he spat. “Man this club must be for losers who can’t get with real humans, I mean what’s the appeal?” he asked, as he stopped in front of one of the tubes, eyes scanning the dark skinned female android staring back at him seductively. A shiver running down his spine as he moved on. “Like they would rather fuck some emotionless doll who can’t feel anything than to disappoint a human or something.”

“You do realize we’re here to do a job, right?” Connor asked, looking to Gavin. “Not to question why people would frequent places like this?”

Gavin rolled his eyes as he moved to join Connor at the door that was marked off with crime scene tape. Gavin noted the manager stood dutifully by the door as Officer Chris Miller spoke with him. Gavin would have to get Connor to interview him when they were done here. 

Stepping into the room there were greeted by chaos, a table lay knocked over the lamp that once sat on it lay shattered on the floor. The bed its self was relatively untouched, but that wasn’t what drew their attention. In middle of the room lay the body of a man in his thirties, eyes staring up at them, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Bruises formed on the mans neck indicating that he had been strangled. 

Gavin couldn’t help but chuckle as he crouched down beside the body, looking it over. Before looking up at Connor, a cruel smile on his lips. “So, what do you think?” he asked, gesturing to the body between them. “Think he forgot his safe word, and the plastic asshole got carried away?”

Connor scowled at his partner, as he crouched down on the other side of the body. “I think it’s more than that.” Connor said, picking up the victim’s hand in his gloved one he pointed to the bruises on the mans wrist. “Looks to me like our victim here got a little violent with one of the androids, and maybe it fought back.”

“Fought back?” Gavin parroted, looking up at Connor. “You mean the fucking thing went deviant?”

Connor worried at his bottom lip, and nodded. 

Gavin scoffed. “Well, if that’s the case then it seems our newly deviated android flew the coop, wouldn’t you agree? Though between you and me I think those assholes at Cyberlife need to do a better job at making sure these plastic pricks stay obedient to humans. None of this deviating and attacking humans bullshit. Mine ever starts acting up like that I’m using it as target practice.” Walking out of the room Gavin looked to Connor, as the other man stood up. “I’m going to look around, you talk to the manager. Maybe dickhead has an idea of what kind of android we’re looking for.”

Connor scowled at Gavin as the other man disappeared. But never less he did have a good point, pulling his notebook out of his jacket pocket he moved to where the manager was standing. 

“Evening Detective.” Chris greeted as he looked up as Connor approached. 

“Officer Miller.” Connor said, before turning to the manager.

Well, wasn’t this all peachy. The manager thought as he looked to the kid standing before him. Of all the cops that roamed around this stinkin’ city it had to be the one cop who frequented the Eden Club. Let alone the one that used the very android who killed their victim, and a guy he genuinely liked if he was being honest.

“What can you tell me about the victim?” Connor asked, straight to the point he liked that about the kid. 

He shrugged his shoulders, what was there to tell? The dead guy was like every other guy that came in here. Quiet, kept to himself, hell, the only problem he seemed to have was his tendency to constantly break some of his androids. Some of them so damaged they were beyond repair. And it seemed the kids favorite was going to be next until she deviated. 

“Not much, quiet guy, kept to himself. I think the only problem I had was him busting up a few of my androids.” He told him, watching as the kid scrawled something down in a worn leather notepad. 

Worrying at his bottom lip he looked around the floor, looking for any sign of that douche bag cop he was with, seeing no signs of him he placed a hand on Connor’s arm, making him look up at him. “Kid, I gotta say you got lucky, the android that did him in? The one you liked, the little blonde, plain looking one.”

The one he was going to trash in a few weeks, but the kid didn’t need to hear that. After all, when he did the kid would no doubt find himself a new favorite. “Looks like you dodged a bullet, kid. You could have been her victim.”

Was he hearing this right? Pen hovered above paper as he let the mans words sink in. Kara, she couldn’t, could she? Opening his mouth a few times he looked back at the scene, at the chaos before him. Could she have done this? Kill a human being like this? But then he recalled the managers words to him as the man walked off. The customer that was with Kara had a habit of breaking androids whenever he came here, maybe... she deviated to defend herself, to keep herself from being busted up.

Yes, that made sense, Connor told himself, as he tucked his notepad into his coat pocket once more. His eyes scanning the room, it all playing out for him in his head, Kara, sweet Kara fighting for her life against the bastard now laying dead on the floor. Kara, with fear in her eyes as the man advanced on her, until she wrapped her hands around his throat and squeezed. But the question on his mind now was, where was she now?

Could she be hiding in one of the rooms terrified about what was to come? Gnawing at his bottom lip Connor scanned the rooms, finding them empty, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he came face to face with Gavin.

“Did you find anything?” Connor asked, as the door slid shut behind him.

“Yeah, pretty sure the android slipped out through the Employee’s Only door and is hiding out in the back, c’mon.” He said, jerking his thumb towards the door.

“How can you be so sure?” Connor asked, following after Gavin.

Opening the door, Gavin pointed to a blue smudge on the wall. “Looks like our android is bleeding. Left us a trail marker.” 

Connor looked to the blood, before turning to follow Gavin. She was hurt, she was bleeding. Connor thought as he followed Gavin into a large storeroom. Several androids stared at the two with lifeless eyes as the milled around the room. This would be a perfect place to hide, Connor thought as he peered in every corner. Seeing no sign of her, his gun in his hand as he moved throughout the room.

“It ain’t here.” Gavin spat, his lip curled as he scanned the android before him, hoping at least one of them would leap out and attack him. He had spent too much time here already, and having these freaking androids stare at him was making his skin crawl. Sighing Gavin turned towards the large door across from him and Connor, it lead to the back alley, it was the only place they hadn’t checked. And as far as Gavin knew it lead to a dead end. 

Opening the door the two peered out, a frustrated growl escaping Gavin’s lips as he found nothing, their suspect had escaped, leaving no sign of where they went. Gavin muttered a curse as he stamped his foot on the ground, frustrated as their case, something he thought would be open and close, something he thought would be easy just became a hunt of a deviant. As for Connor, he couldn’t be more relieved, though... worrying at his bottom lip he knew that now that she was out there things would be far from simple for Kara. As he turned to follow Gavin back into the club he silently wished Kara good luck where ever she was as he disappeared into the club.

***

She didn’t know how long she had been running for, she knew that since she had left the comfort of the club she had hid in the darkened alleys, keeping out of sight of prying eyes. Pain stabbed into her side as she continued to walk. Her systems constantly giving her warnings about her damaged biocomponents as she leaned against a grimy brick wall. The thin blanket she had managed to scrounge up in one of the dumpsters draped over her body, obscuring her from view, hiding the fact that she was a rogue Eden Club android roaming the streets unaccompanied. 

And now she had nowhere to go. Thunder rumbled overhead, indicating the coming storm that would be on her in moments, that was exactly what Kara needed after the day she had, sure she couldn’t get sick but who wanted to wander around soaked? Not her, she needed to find a place to stay, but with her damaged parts and the fact that she was obviously in dire need of blue blood that was easier said than done.

Blinking a few times Kara slumped against the wall, all energy sapped from her body, chin resting on her chest as exhaustion caught up with her. What was she going to do now? Where was she going to go? Kara didn’t have the answers as the darkness slowly rose up to swallow her whole, the blonde android slumping sideways to rest against a pile of garbage as she did so. 

Little did she now that as she lay there, she was being watched...

[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from @winged-time-criminal and anon. Thor1!Loki coming your way! :3

Words: 2953 Warnings: fluff and a bit of angst

Slave. That was the correct term for you, no? The ‘humble’ king called providing you with a room—more like a broom cupboard—and leftovers from every night’s supper payment; in exchange for your services to the crown.

You had been brought to Asgard a year back, survivor of a reluctant race Odin had longed to subjugate and bring under his control. They had resisted. His argument was ‘peace’—yours was destruction and mass murder. And it made you despise the royal family with all your heart. All of them. All but one…

Serving Prince Loki was all but boring. Unlike his arrogant brother Thor, he always was calculated, calm, drawn back and inexplicably intelligent. Not just once had you secretly watched him read and practise his magic when Thor spent half the night drinking with his friends.

When you had arrived on Asgard, the princes had been allowed to choose their new maids by themselves—not for fun under the sheets, thank the Norns, they had their royal concubines for those kinds of services—but to take care of and serve them as they pleased. Whatever it was Loki had seen in your eyes, it seemed to have fascinated him.

It had taken you months to warm up to him, your heart and soul filled with hatred for your new ‘home’ and occupation. You should consider yourself lucky, he had spat one night after you had accidentally spilled wine all over him with tears in your eyes for you had been so homesick. And as much as you had longed to slap him across the face and risk getting flogged for it, you knew he was right. Thor’s maid already had several long scars and cuts on her back to prove he was.

At the very least, so you quickly figured, he liked to read. Every day anew, there would be different books in his chambers and once you were done cleaning and tidying, you made yourself comfortable at his desk or in his soft armchair and forgot reality for a while.

You were mischievous—and even if you seemed defeated and broken now, certainly, you were not going to accept the fate Odin had forced upon you. No. For months on end, you had been planning your escape, calculated all eventualities and even begun harbouring secret food supplies. Soon. You would get your chance soon and yet, every night you lay in bed and thought about freedom, about leaving your duties as Loki’s maid behind, you felt an odd sting in your heart.

When he was not reserved, he was kinder than one would have anticipated. You had taken a liking into him, perhaps even more than that—and maybe that was the reason for why your heart ached whenever he brought a woman to his chambers, be it a concubine or a pretty citizen. After all, you were the one making his bed the next day. His silver tongue convinced and seduced them all and even though he did not bed as many as his brother, the future king, you were well aware of the fact that Loki was not the kind of man you should fall in love with, especially as his lowly servant. Yet another reason to escape…

Blinking tiredly, you fought, desperately, to keep your eyes open long enough to return to your room safely. Loki had just finished his supper. He was unusually quiet and grumpy today. Holding friendly conversations with one’s maid was frowned upon for sure but that had never stopped him from engaging in some heart-warming small talk with you anyway. But you had overheard him talking about Thor’s upcoming coronation the other day… and Loki sure was salty about it.

You sighed mutely as you took a last glance around his chambers to make sure everything was prepared for him to call it a night and made your leave.

“Have I dismissed you?” His smooth voice suddenly broke the silence. Swallowing thickly, you froze, slowly turning back around.

“No. I’m sorry, your grace. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Loki tilted his head, the corners of his sinful mouth twitching. It was nights like these you despised your feelings for him. Loki could be unpredictably cruel with words, knowing exactly how to remind you of your place. And yet you always forgave him—because he had, unknowingly or not, let you seen not only once how tainted and neglected his own soul was. He did not mean it, not really…

“I am expecting a visitor tomorrow, an old… acquaintance, if you will. She is to arrive early so I need you to prepare the guest room.”

Obediently, you nodded, ignoring the pain cursing through your chest. She. A female acquaintance then. Surely, his chambers would smell of sex again the next couple of days. You almost gagged at the thought. Once you were done, you would sure have enough motivation to keep planning your escape and considering Loki would be busy courting his visitor… could there be a more perfect time for you to finally execute your plan?

Everything was prepared. You had a small bag containing food and other necessary supplies which would last for a week at the very least—and a while back, you had stolen a good and waterproof pair of shoes suitable for long walks in the forest.

You knew there was no way off the planet, not without the Bifrost and Heimdall guarding it day and night. But Asgard was big—there were uncountable, unexplored areas, civilisations far away from the crown. Surely, you would find shelter and live a proper life, work for money without having to accept humiliation. Freedom. A life that did not consist of paying off a debt for a crime not you but your people and rulers had committed.

So the next morning after you had served Loki’s breakfast and politely greeted his downright stunning female acquaintance, you took your chance. You were ready and you sneaked out of the castle, spending half the day hiding among the crowds in the market places, avoiding einherjar patrolling through the streets and creeping through narrow alleys. You had planned this route for weeks. You were going to be free.

“No! Please, no!” You moaned in pain when the einherjar tightened his grasp around your arm and dragged you through the door. His harsh knock came right before Loki’s slightly annoyed “Enter”. He frowned when his eyes met your flushed form struggling in the einherjar’s grip while you tried anything in your power to avoid his gaze—and that of his outrageously beautiful guest. Angrboda’s breasts were wonderfully full, her lips red and sinful and her long black, shiny hair… you almost felt ashamed of the way you had neglected yours over the last few weeks. Amused, she raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?” Loki spoke.

“We caught her near the gates of the city, my prince. She was not authorised to leave the palace, leading to the assumption she attempted to escape. She had a bundle full of stolen food with her.”

How, how could it have gone wrong? You had planned it so well, all eventualities! No matter how many times you twisted and turned it in your head—you could not understand you had blown it. This was it. Your life would end. You would be flogged if they had mercy on you. But betrayal held a cruel punishment, Odin had warned you so himself. Death.

The einherjar of course knew you were Loki’s maid, it was why they had brought you back to him straight away. Everyone working in the palace knew. Other, paid maids envied you for your services to the prince and even some of the concubines eyed you jealously when they left his chambers in the mornings.

Loki tilted his head. His expression was thoughtful. Was he angry, disappointed, indifferent? You could not tell, even when he opened his mouth.

“Angrboda, my dear, would you leave us for a moment? I will have a word with my… maid.” He glared at you threateningly when he spoke the last word, causing the black-haired woman to giggle.

“Take your time. You will find me in the gardens.”

She nodded at the einherjar who were kind enough to escort her—leaving you alone with him. You were unsure whether to be relieved or even more scared now.

“How did you do it?” He asked calmly, rising from his armchair to pace up and down in front of you. Slowly, like a predator.

“I d-didn’t… I didn’t mean to—“

“Get caught? No, I presume you did not. How did you do it?” Your lips parted. Only now did you understand his question. He did not want to know why you had attempted to escape but how.

“The einherjar said they found you trying to sneak through the gates.” He smirked. “How did you get so far? That is rather impressive.” He almost seemed to be talking to himself, pondering over the young woman shaking right in front of him. “Tell me.”

Was he not angry? You had betrayed him!

“I…” You couldn’t tell him, now could you? If you were to try again… but… would you ever be able to try again? “Am I going to be punished?” You choked out timidly instead, dreading the answer already.

“What do you have in mind?” Blinking, you stared at him. What?

“Your failure will be punishment enough. I expect breakfast at the usual time tomorrow. Now get back to work, (Y/N).” Your name. He knew your name? Loki was right, living with the fact you had been so close to freedom and then failed was indeed devastating and yet… despite how coldly and indifferently he treated you… there was no anger in his voice. There was only disappointment.

You felt remorse. Pain. Guilt washing over you all night. How could you possibly feel like this? It was true, Loki had never treated you wrongly. He had never touched you inappropriately or hurt you physically. Your life had taken a bad turn but it was not terrible—and you realised only now that Loki had shown mercy that perhaps fleeing had been but a bad idea after all. Was this his purpose? What he had had in mind with his strange reaction?

You dreaded seeing him again the next morning, serving him his breakfast in silence. Angrboda was nowhere to be seen—yet the smell of sex in the room made it clear what had happened between them last night. Quite frankly, it made you feel even worse.

You flinched when he spoke up the moment you reached for his empty plate to return it to the kitchens.

“Leave that. You are coming with me.”

“My prince…” You stopped yourself, not sure what you should say anyway. How would you apologise? You did not mean it, you had wanted to leave—and being caught had not only brought humiliation and an undying fear for your life but shame on the prince.

You were trembling when you followed him through the castle and out into the city. He was right in front of you—if you made a run for it now, would you live? And why were you thinking you were going to die now in the first place? If Loki wanted you dead, he surely would not bother getting his hands dirty himself. So where were you going?

You arrived in the suburbs soon, with fewer people passing by. Loki was on high alert—you were certain he did not want to be seen out here. For what purpose, you did not know. He tensed up instantly when an einherjar turned around the corner, frowning upon seeing the prince this far away from the palace.

“Your grace…?”

The God of Mischief reacted quickly. Not giving you a chance to resist, he wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you flush against his strong body, his lips coming crashing down on yours. His eyes fell shut when he pushed you against the nearby wall, his fingers exploring your curves greedily.

“Oh… my apologies, my prince.”

Now it wasn’t exactly popular for the princes to bed their maids, yet as long as it happened behind closed doors and the common folk did not witness it first hand, not even Odin was to complain. Frigga, you liked her, was the only one concerned for their servants. Thor was an impulsive, reckless and demanding fellow and you had heard horror stories of him asking for physical pleasure numerous times—whether this was true, you did not know though and it was not important.

Instead, all you could focus on were Loki’s soft lips moving against yours, his deeply passionate kiss taking your breath away. Heaven. How often had you dreamed of a moment like this?

You understood. The einherjar catching you both in an act of affection would distract from any other activity the God of Mischief pursued out here and still… when Loki pulled away, his lips remained parted, his blue eyes locking with yours. He appeared to be as shocked by the chemistry of that kiss as you were.

“Come.” He whispered quietly, quickly looking away. Your heart skipped a beat, your lips still tingling.

You seemed to be walking for hours when in reality, the clock struck only twelve when you reached the edge of a forest, with two entangled trunks forming some kind of pathway right in front of you. Loki sighed when you came to a halt.

“W-what are we doing here?”

“You are not happy here,” he stated the obvious. You did not react. “I found your little notes and maps last night while you were preparing Angrboda’s room, you see. They were impressive. It must have taken you a long time to collect all the necessary information for your escape.” His brief laugh was bitter. “I must be truly terrible if you have been trying to get away from me for so long.”

“You are not… I… I don’t…”

“If you are going to explain yourself, I would suggest you do so using proper sentences.”

Taking a deep breath, you gathered all of your courage.

“You are not terrible, my prince. You are simply… reserved. And you make sure, regularly, to remind me of my place when you are in a bad mood.” Suddenly, the words spilled from your mouth like a waterfall made of letters. “I never wanted this. I lived a free life before I was taken here to pay for a crime I never committed. I have no money, I have no free time… I live in a tiny chamber and I don’t even own proper clothes…” Your lower lip was shaking when you pointed at the stolen shoes on your feet. “Of course I am not happy. But I… I never… I never meant to disappoint you.”

Only now that you spoke them out loud did you realise the words were all but true. All the remorse that had tormented you overnight…

“What makes you think you have disappointed me?”

“I… I could see it in your eyes… a-and just now, too.” Did he know you loved him, truly? “But I… I didn’t think you would care about my loss, my prince. I’m just a lowly maid, after all. Replaceable.” You spat bitterly. He knew. He had to.

“You made your final decision when you lay eyes on Angrboda then.” Yes. He knew. You nodded mutely. She was everything you were not. What reason had there been for you to stay and change the sheets after he had seduced yet another woman? It hurt.

Loki paused, taking another deep breath. His voice was soft and gentle the next time he spoke.

“This pathway will take you back to your own realm. No one but me knows it exists.”

Your eyes widened.

“You… you are letting me leave?”

The God of Mischief smirked. “Only if you promise to return to me. You are quite the little minx, (Y/N). No one has ever made it out of the palace, let alone down to the gates of the capital. I’m impressed. I would rather reward you for that than punish you.”

Your lips parted. “What… what do you mean, return to you?”

“I will not dismiss you from your duties. You are my maid. But if you swear to return, you may use this pathway as much as you like.” His smirk grew wider. “And I might have to steal a few more kisses in the future, too.”

You didn’t notice you were crying until you felt the hot tears rolling down your cheeks already. Squeaking overwhelmed by sudden joy, you had no control over your body when you threw yourself into his arms, whispering thank you over and over until you ran out of breath. One thing was clear, for somehow, you had proven yourself to him. He had noticed you, properly. And you might even have a chance to win his heart the way he had won yours…

The God of Mischief chuckled. He took your fear of having acted inappropriately from you quickly when he reciprocated the hug and held you tightly until you had calmed again, your face still pressed against his chest.

“Be back in time for supper. Angrboda will have left by then. I shall have the red wine you secretly drink up when I abandon it on my desk prepared for us. And then, my lovely (Y/N), you shall tell me all about how in the nine realms you managed to escape and trick a bunch of einherjar with centuries of experience.”

You giggled at his words.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would be flattered if you supported me on Kofi! kofi.com/sserpente

[underneaththesurface]

The murder of Jason Blossom

Estelle: Good evening, Riverdale. I’m Estelle Ollier.

Omi: And I’m Omi Klyde.

Estelle: And this is Underneath The Surface, where we dive into the history of our town, Riverdale.

And today, we'll be talking about the murder of Jason Blossom.

Omi: The murder that sent this town in a downward spiral...Well, more than it already was.

Estelle: Well, let's just say that it sure gave a couple of families some unwanted attention.

Omi: Their meddlin' days were numbered!

Estelle: (chuckles) And this is how it happened:

Estelle: On the morning of the 4th of July 2017, the twins Cheryl and Jason Blossom drove out to Sweetwater River for an early morning boat ride.

Later that morning, the local scouts' group found Cheryl by the shore, crying.

She claimed she dropped her glove in the water, and when Jason reached for it, the boat tipped over. That was the last time she saw Jason.

Omi: This sounds like a much more abysmal version of Kim Kardashian losing her diamond earring.

Estelle: Maybe if Kim had lost it before people started dying.

Omi: Maybe the Blossoms and Kardashians could learn something from each other.

Estelle: (gasps)

Estelle: I'd rather not think about that.

Omi: Oh god, not like THAT!

Estelle: This is going to be a looooong night (chuckles)

Omi: Don't get me started on reality tv...I could talk for days.

Estelle: I'll just move on.

Omi: Yes, go on.

Estelle: About a month later, two teenage boys who wish to remain anonymous found Jason's body on the river shore, with a bullet wound in his forehead.

The coroner discovered that Jason had been a victim of animal scavenging. But he also found ligature marks, and signs that he was frozen.

And last but definitely not least, it turned out that Jason died on the 11th of July, instead of the 4th.

Omi: Yikes.

Estelle: Y-yeah, that changed the story.

Estelle: The results led the investigation to Cheryl, who voluntarily went with them as she claimed she expected them to find out she was guilty.

Omi: That girl’s been through Hell.

Estelle: Yeah, I guess being a Blossom is both a blessing and a curse.

Omi: I guess so. What happened next?

Estelle: In the principal's office, Cheryl admitted that Jason wanted to leave town and never come back and that she helped him come up with the plan, so their parents wouldn't go looking for him.

They made it to Greendale, and Jason left, saying he'd reach out in a month. But he never did.

She also mentioned hearing a gunshot the same day, and sheriff Keller let her go.

The next day, Archie Andrews admitted he too heard a gunshot that day. However, he claimed he didn't see who fired the gun.

When sheriff Keller asked why he was there and what he was doing, and if he was with someone who could've seen the shooter.

Archie answered that he was writing songs and that it was just him and his dog.

Omi: Was it really, though?

Estelle: Mmm, I heard things but I'm not sure it qualifies as evidence.

Omi: Same, that's fair.

Estelle: Fast-forward to several days later, on the last movie night at the Twilight Drive-In, someone broke into the Kellers' home, and stole all the evidence in the Jason Blossom murder case, including the documented files, background checks, and the video and audiotapes of police interviews. For sheriff Keller, this meant that Jason Blossom's murderer must be from Riverdale since the burglar must've known he wasn't home at the time.

Estelle: In September, sheriff Keller received a text from an unknown number, stating that Jason planned to run away with Polly Cooper as his parents disapproved of their relationship.

Polly never made it Greendale, however, as her parents sent her to Sisters of Quiet Mercy.

They had a getaway car parked on the side of the highway, along with Jason's belongings.

But by the time they reached the vehicle, it had been set on fire, destroying any potential evidence or clues.

Omi: What a coincidence...

Estelle: Mhmmm.

Omi: Alexa, play Things We Lost In The Fire... Wait, is that copyright? Do I have to sing again?

Estelle: Oh my God... Maybe play a snippet?

Omi: Lit... Like that car was. Ok, I’ll play it.

(things we lost in the fire starts to play)

Estelle: I'll try to chime in at a good moment.

Omi: (turns song off at the chorus)

Ok, I think that’s as far as my dad’s money can take us.

Estelle: (laughs)

Estelle: Ok, time to be serious again.

At the sheriff station, as he was about to start investigating the remains of the vehicle, the Blossoms let him know that Polly escaped the Sisters of Quiet Mercy on the same night that the car burned down, making this their new suspect.

Omi: Oh?

Estelle: Somehow, very short-lived, though.

Estelle: Meanwhile, during the investigation on the burned down vehicle, two fingerprints showed up, belonging to Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones.

Jughead's prints were on file from an incident that took place in 2011, where he attempted to burn down Riverdale Elementary School.

Omi: Queenie told me bout that, but I never thought it was true, damn. How did our lovely detective couple manage to involve themselves in this case?

Estelle: I guess, Betty got involved because of her sister.

Omi: True.

Estelle: Jughead, I don't know.

It didn't help him since they took him to the station.

During interrogation, Keller brought up Jughead's school records, stating that he was bullied a lot by the football team, whose captain was Jason, giving Jughead a motive to murder Jason.

Omi: Oh damn.

Estelle: Didn't look so good for him.

However, Keller later released Jughead after Fred Andrews claimed that Jughead was working for him the day Jason died.

Omi: Mr. Andrews always comin' in clutch.

Estelle: It felt a little too convenient if you ask me.

But that's also how I felt about the lie that Jason drowned since he used to be in our water polo team.

Omi: the Jones and Andrews have always been close. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was a coverup-LEGALLY I’m not saying it was though...

Omi: Wasn’t he one of the better swimmers, too?

Estelle: Yeah, so I don't understand why that was considered plausible before they found him.

Omi: It was an easy answer without taking the background into consideration.

Estelle: That applies to half the murder cases in this town.

Omi: Exactly...

Estelle: So, sheriff Keller returned his attention to Polly, who was pregnant and living at the Pembrooke at the time.

She confirmed that she and Jason intended to run away.

She then informed the sheriff that Jason was involved with the Southside Serpents, as he made a one time deal to deliver drugs for them in exchange for money.

Later that day, sheriff Keller received a phone call that two guys attacked an Andrews Construction employee.

The owner, Fred Andrews, mentioned that Clifford Blossom had his wishes to halt the project.

His son Archie, however, suggested that it may have been two members of the Southside Serpents, the location used to be part of their territory.

Omi: Is that so?

Estelle: It was one of the places the Serpents used to hang out, I heard.

Omi: Ahh, okay.

Estelle: I heard sheriff Keller let it slide, though. Which is weird to me.

Omi: Keller isn’t always the most...vigilant sheriff though.

Estelle: True, but his son also worked there. Makes me wonder if he'd let it slide then...

Anyway, let's move to the first real suspect of this case.

Estelle: On October 5, Keller received an anonymous tip, and he and his deputies obtained a warrant to search FP Jones' trailer.

In the trailer, they found the murder weapon in a lockbox, and they arrested FP Jones.

In the interrogation room, sheriff Keller informed Jones that the gun matched the bullet they found in Jason's body.

Omi: How did Jones react?

Estelle: According to FP, Jason approached him at the White Wyrm and explained his situation and that he needed money and a getaway vehicle.

FP made a deal that if he made a delivery for the Serpents, he'd give him money and a getaway car.

However, FP kidnapped him in Greendale, and he held him hostage in the basement of the White Wyrm.

Earlier, he learned that Jason was a Blossom, and he hoped to get a large amount of cash for his return.

But before he was able to make the call, Jason attempted to escape, and FP shot him, hid his body in the freezer, and later dumped his body in Sweetwater River.

Omi: Do we really believe that FP shot him?

Estelle: It is a little strange that he immediately chose to shoot him.

FP was a football player in high school, he'd know how to tackle him.

Omi: That seems like it would do more harm than good. One would think that, yeah.

Estelle: But sheriff Keller got a confession, and I guess that's all that mattered.

Omi: I wish this town would do better background checks.

Estelle: Sheriff Keller asked if FP also broke into his home, to which he admitted he was.

After the interrogation, FP's son and his friends approached sheriff Keller, claiming that someone planted the gun inside the Jones' trailer.

Omi: Oh?

Estelle: But like I said, sheriff Keller got a confession. And that was enough.

Omi: (sarcastically) Of course it was.

Estelle: The next day, the station received a 911 call that someone found a Serpent named Mustang dead in his hotel room.

In his hotel room, they found a duffel bag with a large sum of money, with the initials "H.L." on it.

At first, sheriff Keller assumed it was Hermione Lodge who gave him the bag until the daughter brought up that her father - who has the same initials - was in business with the Serpents.

Estelle: Well. Now we know why they gave up the Drive-In.

Omi: I was about to say... He’ll buy up this whole town when no one’s looking I swear.

Estelle: The world is just a Monopoly board for him. Even in prison. And, surprisingly, sheriff Keller let this slide.

But then, later that night, Alice Cooper handed Keller a USB flash drive.

The flash drive contained a surveillance video of Jason's murderer.

Despite his confession, it was Clifford Blossom and not FP Jones.

Omi: He’s got too many of those Get Out Of Jail Free cards, doesn’t he? Killing his own child? Disgraceful...

Estelle: Mhmm. And let me tell you why he did it.

Estelle: Jason wanted no part of the business, and Clifford feared that Jason running away could lead to his arrest, as his maple syrup business was a cover-up for transporting heroin. So, he had Mustang took Jason to the White Wyrm and later shot him.

Clifford then murdered Mustang and staged it as a suicide.

Arriving at Thornhill to arrest Clifford, they found Clifford in the barns where he hung himself.

Omi: Well, that was a rollercoaster.

Estelle: (laughs) I spent so much time trying to make sense of it for tonight. It's impossible.

Omi: I’m still not processing it. Like...what??? How the??? What??? That’s insane!

Estelle: It's like an episode of Dynasty.

Omi: I haven’t gotten to that show yet... Is it really?

Estelle: (sighs)

Estelle: Yes.

Omi: I'll put in on my list then.

Estelle: Back to the drama in our town:

Now that the real murderer was revealed, some people started to wonder what this meant for FP Jones.

Omi: Well, they obviously let him out, right? Or did he have a different but equally as essential role to play in this?

Estelle: Well, he was still guilty of tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, mishandling a body, perjury, etc.

So, he still remained in custody.

However, Sheriff Keller offered FP a deal that the DA and Mayor McCoy were willing to offer him leniency if he handed them the names of the drug dealers.

Estelle: Basically, throwing his own people under the bus.

Omi: isn’t that like, against serpent law?

Estelle: It's one of their most important ones, so I've heard.

Omi: same. Damn...and he’s still the leader?

Estelle: Which is why he declined the offer, and had to await trial, possibly facing twenty years.

Omi: well that’s good at least...the not breaking rules part.

Estelle: Yeah you might go to prison and won't be out until you're well into your sixties but-

hey, at least you didn't snitch on your buddies.

Omi: that just seems like a lose-lose situation

Estelle: I know he made the better choice given his environment, but-

yeah.

Estelle: Well, I guess we reached the end of this episode of Underneath The Surface. I'm Estelle.

Omi: And I'm Omi.

Estelle: Don’t forget to tune in next week, and join us for our next topic: the horror on Wabash Avenue.

Omi: See y'all then!

[klauscotic]

klaus hargreeves x reader • part 1

🌟authors note: this plot line is a little bit of my own creation, besides what happens in the t.v show. this one is also based on a fem. reader! i am going to start a gender neutral mini series very soon!

👻summary: klaus and y/n never saw each other as siblings, even though they grew up together. they saw each other as friends, lovers. but when the hargreeve children left the umbrella academy, klaus and y/n never saw each other again. but when reginald hargreeve’s death pops up unexpected, the children, now adults, meet again. and klaus and y/n meet again...

🔅word count: 1923

16 years. that’s how long it had been. 16 long fucking years.16 years since i had seen the one i loved and cared for the most. 16 years since i had seen my siblings. 16 years since i had seen him. dad. father. reginald. the man that bought me for my powers. i never called him dad. i simply didn’t want to. then there was grace. mum. machine. although she was a metal creation, she was more of a parent that he would ever be. although she was a metal production, at least she showed parental affection, unlike reginald hargreeves. even though he programed her to act human, she was still as blunt as ever, but that wouldn’t stop her loving side seep through her cogs and wires. after all, she helped out like the mother i never had, and for that i was grateful.

but now, we are gathered at the umbrella academy, because ‘dad’ was dead. and we were all as skeptical as the next superstitious dude that walks down the street. i sat next to allison and diego. who, by the way, weren’t pleased at being called back to the house to hold a family meeting about the man that raised us without being there. 

“so, we’re here again. home sweet home.” mumbled luther. who had grown much taller since last time i had seen him. 16 years ago...

“yep.” i muttered back, not wanting to be there at all. however, someone was keeping me from leaving. someone out of the six of us that i didn’t call my sibling. instead once called my lover. klaus... 

i never saw klaus as my sibling, and he didn’t see me as one either. which was technically true, considering we were raised to treat each other that way. we weren’t related in anyway. but that didn't stop reginald from disliking our relationship. me and klaus were joined to the hip as youngsters. wherever one went, the other would follow, and vice versa. he would protect me with his life and i would do the same, especially on missions. and then there was the love. when we became late teenagers, we told each other. and that’s when reginald found out. he didn’t do anything, he would just make the odd comment about how we shouldn’t show it outside and how it looked weird. but that didn’t phase me and klaus. because we were young and in love. but i can’t say that the feelings remain the same for klaus after 16 years of not seeing each other. the day we all left, i don’t know what happened. we all just suddenly lost contact with each other. i missed klaus terribly. i missed his laugh, his smile, his hair, his wacky clothes. i just missed him in total. 

 “so, dad? he’s gone.” allison spoke. 

“yeah no shit, that’s why we’re here.” i replied sharply. i heard klaus snicker from behind me, pouring himself a drink from the bar, as he wore those wacky clothes that i missed oh-so-much. 

“y/n? really? on a day like this and you’re already using your crappy humour!” luther sighed, his eyebrows knitted together. disappointed. 

i shrugged and smirked. 

“sorry.” i said sarcastically. it went quiet. 

klaus walked away from the bar behind us and pranced his way to the center of attention, holding a cigarette.

“put that out, you know dad didn’t like smoking.” luther told klaus. klaus grunted in disapproval.

“dad’s not here.” he spoke through the cigarette in his mouth. then no one spoke.

“is that my skirt?” allison broke the silence. 

klaus looked down at the leather skirt that swayed beneath his knees.

“well, i looked through your closet, and although it’s a bit dated, i put it on and it’s a bit breathey... on the bits.” he responded, he wavered his hand over his crotch, with the cigarette in between his fingers. and a glass of, what i imagine, whisky. klaus then sat close to me, not leaving any space between us. after that, i zoned out completely. all i did was stare at klaus and his beautiful eyes. they held so much emotion, yet he showed little of it. and he stared back. until luther interrupted. 

“dad’s dead, but i don’t think it was a heart attack. he sounded strange the last time i spoke to him” luther let out.

“quelle suprise!” klaus gargled his whisky, making it shoot from the corners of his mouth. getting some whisky on my cheek. i wiped it off and giggled a little bit.

“stange how?” allison asked.

“he said to look out and that i shouldn’t trust many people from then on.”

“listen, dad was a bitter old man. who died of heart failure.” said diego, getting up from the arm-chair he was sat in.

“yeah, i thought the coroner’s report said that?” vanya questioned.

“but i don't think it was.” luther then looked at klaus. and from what i can gather, he was gonna ask him to speak to reginald about his death. “look, i know you don’t like it, but i need you to contact dad.”

“i can’t just call dad from the afterlife and be like ‘hey dad, can you stop playing tennis with hitler for a moment and take a quick call?’“ klaus said. waving his hands in the air. which were occupied with his whisky and cigarette. 

“why? i thought that was your thing?” luther said.

“yeah - but i'm not in the right frame of mind!” klaus chuckled.

“you’re high!” allison shouted.

“yeah! yeah! i am, and i don’t know how you’re not... listening to all this nonsense!” klaus argued. 

“well sober up now! this is important!” luther said.

“listen you guys - he was found without his monocle.” he said, finally in a calm manner. 

“who gives a shit about a stupid monocle?” diego piped up.

“exactly, which means his death must have been personal, someone who held a grudge. someone wanted dad dead.” luther said.

“where are you going with this?” klaus said, taking a puff from his cigarette.

“isn’t it obvious klaus - he think one of us killed dad.” diego replied.

luther looks at me.

he thinks i did it! what a prick. i thought. 

ah yes! me, number 8. the last of the hargreeve children. i hated my name, so much so, that i found my birth certificate in reginald’s desk draw, and had him legally change my surname back to its original state. but that’s all thanks to my powers really. if i didn’t have my powers, he wouldn’t have let me change my surname. my ‘siblings’ and klaus all knew i hated reginald. not just because he bought us from our original parents for our powers, but because even after that, he never treated us like children. but more like experiments. for the love of fuck, he made a robot as a mum for us, he was that incapable of taking care of us. but i never showed any sign of hatred in front of grace. she was too kind, even though she was made of metal, at least she treated us all with motherly affection. so, my powers. i could inflict pain on whoever i wanted, make them see their worst nightmares so vividly that they would turn mad. however, i could also heal and love. i could make someone see a beautifully crafted dream and heal their pain within seconds. my powers were what klaus would call ‘bipolar’. whenever one of the hargreeve siblings were having a nightmare or had hurt themselves, i would help. i remember the time that klaus had woke up from a nightmare a few months before we all parted ways. he had had a dream about me being taken away from him, as well as the others. he woke up in a cold sweat. luckily, as he was dreaming, i heard him thrash around in his bed, pleading for it to stop whilst whispering our names through his gritted teeth, breathing paced quickly. when he woke up, i was beside him, hugging him. soothing the emotional pain that wreaked his mind. as he hugged back, my powers enveloped him and soon he fell back asleep. that was the end of that...

“what we all know she has a passion for being rude to dad, and we all know that she hated him!” luther shrugged. 

i couldn’t believe my ears. my own ‘sibling’ accused me of murdering reginald. i got up from off the sofa and walked up close to luther.

“you’d fucking love that wouldn’t you, pegging the blame on the one that hated “dad” so much, that they lost all emotions and cold-bloodedly killed him!” i shouted at luther, air-quoting the word ‘dad’. 

“you think i would stoop so low as to kill a man?” i asked, shrugging my shoulders. 

luther peered at me from under his eye lids. i wasn’t scared of him. and he knew it. in a way, i could probably cause more damage to him than he could to me. 

“well, if you weren’t such a brat to him, i wouldn’t have speculated anything in the first place.” he replied, eyes thin. 

allison had her head in her hand, angry that luther was accusing me of such a thing. even she knew i would never go that far as to kill someone without a reason. i would only ever harm someone if needed. to be frank, i only ever used my healing abilities after i left the umbrella academy. but i would use my pain-giving powers from time to time. all whilst this was happening, klaus looked at me pained. he knew i would never hurt reginald. no matter how much i disliked the man. 

“you know, even after 16 years, you’re still the biggest dick i’ve come across. i honestly thought that reginald sending you to the moon for a while, would somehow take away that bitter persona you hold tightly onto.” i seethed. pointing at his heart. 

“shut up.” he breathed out. 

my eyes turned dark. one thing reginald learnt from me. never piss me off... i looked to the sofa that diego was sat on. diego looked just as sorry as klaus did. but klaus didn’t show his emotions in the way diego did. i then looked back to luther.

“no.” i said. i then returned to my place of the sofa next to allison and klaus. he continued to stand in the middle of the living room, looking like the mighty beast he was. however, that ‘mighty beast’ didn’t faze me at all. 

“alright guys, that’s enough. we have been here for little under 12 hours and we are already at each others damn throats.” diego stepped in. “as for you luther, you’re seriously suggesting that y/n killed dad. are you nuts?” he then left.

luther went quiet again.

“you’re crazy man - you’re crazy!” klaus shouted, standing up from the sofa.

then vanya left. 

“wait - i’m not finished” luther ejected, but no one cared enough to listen. 

“i’ll be right back, me and y/n are just off to murder mum.” klaus said, still puffing on the cigarette. he stood there holding out his hand for me to take. i got up from off the sofa and took his hand. we then walked out of the living area. 

“that’s not what i meant!” luther shouted out to klaus and i. 

we were too enveloped in each other, that we didn’t hear what luther said, neither did we care.

part 2 out now!

[its-r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s]

Call Me A Freak- Chapter 15: A Simple Yes [Finale]

Words: 4,281

Warnings: anxiety, physical and mental abuse, swearing, descriptions of pain and injury, blood, death, murder

A/N: So... what are we thinking? Should I continue this into the second movie?

Ch 14

~ ~ ~

They had us set up on a pristine white carriage, led by two horses. It was too showy for me. I know it was all for the presentation. Get people excited and all. But people cheered for us as we rolled by, with banners and confetti.

It would have made me feel a bit better if I wasn’t with him, just because I was his girlfriend. If we had been married, it might have made more sense, but girlfriends are fairly temporary… like Audrey was.

There was a small box in my lap, containing the antidote to his spell. It sat on the folds of my skirt, shaking along the ride.

I stared at it. I wasn’t sure how to give it to him. He couldn’t eat it now and cause a scene on his big day, but I was worried that I wouldn’t get the chance to see him after the Coronation.

He glanced at me, noticing my lack of focus, and reached out to hold my hand.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told me.

I smiled. It was silly that he was telling me not to be nervous when he was the one being crowned king. But I was nervous. Really nervous.

“All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful. No problem there.”

I gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Mal? Would you wear my ring?”

I raised an eyebrow as he reached for his class ring. I knew that this was often a custom for high school couples. It was sort of a promise to one another.

I pulled my hand away quickly. It was too much. Too big of a commitment. I had a feeling that in just a few hours, he would hate my guts and wish to send me back to the island. He very well might.

“Um,” I mumbled. “Not now? I think it would probably just fall right off of me.”

He looked away, disappointed and started to fiddle with the ring in his fingers.

I did my best to change the subject, deciding now was as good a time as any to hand him the small, blue box in my lap. “I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah,” I responded and he opened up the gift. “It’s just for later. When you need strength. Some carbs to keep up your energy.”

His face broke out into a grin. “Always thinking.”

I shrugged and turned back to the people. I needed to keep up a good face. I smiled and waved, watching them murmur to themselves about me. I didn’t think about the ridicule. I wanted to enjoy this last day.

“But I can’t wait,” Ben said quickly and before I had time to argue, he had stuffed half the cupcake in his mouth.

I froze, my heart stopping.

“Mm. This is really good.” His voice was distorted as he tried not to speak with a mouthful.

“Uh… Do-”

“Mal?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Do you feel okay?” I stuttered.

“You bet,” he said, smugly.

“Would you say that you’re still in- that-” I was choking over my words. Any minute now, he was going to realize what an awful person I was. He would knock me off the carriage and call the guards to drag me back home. “That you have very strong feelings for me?”

He shrugged, finally putting the cupcake away. “Not sure. I mean, let’s give the anti-love potion a few minutes to take effect.”

If my heart had stopped when he ate the cookie, my brain had stopped after that comment. “Wh-”

He laughed, watching my face fall, in horror.

“You knew?!” I gasped.

“That you spelled me? Yeah.” He licked the last of the chocolate off his teeth and went back to smiling at his subjects. “Yeah, I knew.”

“I- I can explain myself-” I tried to say, but he stopped me.

“I was angry at first,” he explained. “But I’ve long since forgiven you.”

“Why?”

He smiled. “Because you didn’t even have to say it for me to know you were sorry. You still went along with the whole ‘being in love’ thing, but I could tell that you felt… unnatural. You thought it was fake. And just now, you proved that to me. Because you wanted to release me.”

I still wasn’t able to process the fact that he didn’t seem mad at me. “So then, how long have you known?”

“Since our first date. Your spell washed away in the enchanted lake.”

I blinked. Any minute now, someone was going to grab me by the arms and drag me out of the kingdom for putting a spell on the prince, right?

“So then, what? You’ve just been… faking it since then?”

I could feel water collecting in my eyes, but I wouldn’t cry here. I wasn’t going to cry in front of Ben.

I looked down, right in time to watch him slide his class ring onto my finger.

He picked up my hand and kissed it, gently. I followed my line of sight right back into his eyes.

“I haven’t been faking anything,” he said, sincerely.

I made the snap decision to admit to him why I did it after the Coronation. There was still a chance he would send me away for it. But perhaps… he had seen the way I had changed. Maybe Ben really did…

Maybe he would still love me.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the castle. Ben hopped out first, then reached out a hand to escort me down. As we started our journey up the stairs, the cheers all but stopped.

My back was finally on full display. Scars and burns out to the public.

My hand tightened around Ben’s, but I wasn’t afraid anymore. I had warned Ben that this would happen and he told me, “Let it happen.”

Neither of us slowed down. Neither of us paused or dropped our smiles. We were content.

The king and queen were waiting for us atop the steps. They wore outfits reminiscent of the ones they were known for. Belle in her yellow gown and Beast in a blue and gold suit.

The whole castle was decorated in blue and yellow. The workers wore gold suits and there was a blue carpet that ran up the stairway. Everyone bowed for their soon-to-be king as we walked past, finally approaching Ben’s parents.

I curtsied for them the minute we reached the final step. I knew that I hadn’t made a great impression the day before and hoped that they wouldn’t be upset with my attendance to the Coronation.

“I told Ben this wasn’t going to be easy,” the King informed me.

“You also taught me that a king has to believe in himself,” Ben added. “Even when it isn’t easy.”

“I did?” Belle smacked him. “I… How very wise of me,” he corrected.

Ben’s mother stepped forward, reaching for his hands. “We are very proud of you,” she told him. “You keep listening to your heart.”

“Thanks mom.”

They were both so caring. I didn’t want to say anything. I would have happily watched the family interact for longer, but the show must go on.

“You’re going to make a fine king,” his father finished, then held out an arm for his wife, and went to set themselves in place.

Ben stepped forward after they had left and grabbed my hand. He ran his fingers over the class ring he had placed there and mumbled, “Wish me luck.”

Behind me, an escort cleared his throat and reached out an arm to take me away. I had a place waiting for me at the front of the room, which I had to get to before Ben began his descent through the castle.

The walk to my spot was quiet. I could faintly make out Evie, Jay, and Carlos up on the balcony. The king and queen were situated in their thrones, on either side of the wand.

I gulped, staring at it. Less than two days ago, I was making plans to steal that very artifact and free my mother from her prison. Two days ago… I wanted that.

It seemed almost impossible how much I had changed in a few days.

A children’s choir serenaded him as the front doors opened and Ben began to make his way to the front of the room. Each individual bowed for him as he passed.

And he looked so regal. He walked with perfect posture, his face serene, staring ahead at all times. He was so ready to take the throne and he deserved it. He had worked so hard to prepare for this and he was ready to take on the responsibility. He had truly found his calling.

I bowed along with the others, glancing up only to find him smiling at me. And in that moment I knew… he would never send me back.

He knew my past. All the spots and stains. He knew how I had wronged him and wronged others. And he had forgiven me. All my friends had.

I still planned to tell him everything. My mother’s plot and all. And I accepted any punishment the kingdom see fit. But Ben loved me. And he would never send me to that hell ever again.

The king bowed before Fairy Godmother, allowing her to take the crown from his head and approach Ben, who was kneeling before the wand.

The whole thing was very ceremonial. She lifted the crown well above her head, before gracefully placing it upon Ben.

He smiled like he just couldn’t help himself.

Taking the wand in her hands, Fairy Godmother began. “Do you solemnly swear to govern the peoples of Auradon with justice and mercy as long as you shall reign?”

“I do solemnly swear,” he projected.

“Then it is my honor and my joy to bless our new king-” she was interrupted as the wand was ripped from her grasp.

The whole room gasped, backing away as Jane flailed wildly, the wand sputtering and sparking in her hands.

“Child what are you doing?!” Fairy Godmother screamed at her daughter.

“If you won’t make me beautiful, I’ll do it myself!”

She didn’t have the powers her mother had and the wand had complete control over her. It threw her back and forth, shooting out spells at random.

No one dared approach her, in fear of getting hit.

Ben almost instantly ran in front of me, but I didn’t let him get all the way there before charging Jane.

I knew that I was one of the few people in the room who could hold that wand steady. I was the daughter of a fairy. And I had experience with magic.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind, so that she couldn’t accidentally shoot me, and I ripped the wand from her grip.

The whole room froze, staring at me, the daughter of the Mistress of All Evil, with Fairy Godmother’s wand in my hands. Jane bolted, ashamed and afraid.

I froze, staring at the object and a horrible, sickly, dark feeling overwhelmed me.

“Mal?” Ban asked, stepping in front of me. “Mal, what’s wrong?”

“EVIE! JAY! CARLOS!” I screamed to them at the top of my lungs.

“Mal!” Ben tried again. “What’s wrong?”

I blinked. “Ben! Ben, you need to run. Hide somewhere. Take the wand,” I added, shoving it into his arms. “Go!”

“Mal?!”

Behind me my friends burst in, sprinting down the hallway. I whipped around to talk to them.

“Guys, she’s coming!”

“That’s not possible!” Jay said, skidding to a stop in front of me.

“How do you know?” Evie asked.

“The wand,” I gasped. “I picked it up and I could feel her getting closer and closer. Jane must have broken a hole in the barrier when she was holding it.”

“What do we do?!” Carlos demanded.

“What can we do? If my mother is off the Isle, there’s almost no stopping her!”

“Maleficent?” Ben was still standing behind me, wand grasped against his chest.

“What are you doing?!” I shouted at him. “Run! Go! You have to get out of here!”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you here with her!”

“The wand, Ben! She’s after the wand! You need to take it and-!”

It was too late. In a puff of green smoke, she appeared in the center of the room, separating Ben and I from my friends.

“I’m back!” she announced.

I positioned myself directly in front of Ben, not only to shield him, but to hide the wand from her view.

“Wand me!” My mother demanded, stepping up to me.

I froze, terrified. I tried opening my mouth to tell her that I didn’t have it, but nothing came out.

She looked me up and down, sneering. “Pathetic.”

Then, she reached forward and threw me to the side. My wrist burned as I landed on it.

Fortunately, Ben was fast enough to throw the wand directly at the Fairy Godmother.

“Bippity Boppity-” she started.

“Boo!” My mother cried and swung her scepter in the air, causing the entirety of the castle to freeze in time, with the exception of herself and the five of us.

We all watched in horror, as she sauntered up the stairs and ripped the wand out of Fairy Godmother’s hands.

Ben reached a hand down and helped me to my feet.

“Where shall we begin?” she laughed, evilly. “I know! Let’s start by getting rid of this!”

She pointed the wand to me and in a flash, Ben’s class ring flew off my finger and slid down the base of the stick.

“Perfect fit!” she joked.

She took a step down towards us and I wrapped my arms around my friends, as if I could shield them.

She watched me, mildly amused. “Falling in love was weak. It’s not what you want.”

“You don’t know what I want,” I growled.

“I don’t care what you want!” she snarled. “You’re dead to me.”

With a flick, the four behind me were tossed backwards like rag dolls. I couldn’t see what happened to them, but I knew hits like that weren’t things you could just shake off.

She moved the wand and scepter into one hand, glaring at me. “You were going to leave me there,” she hissed. “Live out your happy little fantasy life on the Isle, huh?”

In a flash, she threw her hand back and smacked me across the face. The hit was so powerful that I landed on the floor.

“How could you?! I gaVE YOU EVERYTHING!”

I tried to stand up, but she held down the hem of my dress with the end of her scepter. As I struggled to get away, she lifted a foot and slammed the heel into my cheek.

I screeched, tasting the blood that filled my mouth.

Suddenly, she let go. “I don’t know why I waste time, when I have this lovely new toy to play with.”

I tried to back away. With a swish of the wand, she had torn through my chest, blood seeping through the tear in my dress.

I reached up, trying to cover the wound, but it was no use.

“Mal!” Ben screamed running towards me.

“Ben?” I turned, just in time to watch my mother break one of his legs with her new magical abilities.

He hit the ground nearby, wailing in pain

“Ben!” I tried to reach him, but I didn’t make it, before my mother got another brilliant plan.

“Oh, you two love each other so much? What a perfect punishment for the new king and the traitor.”

She laughed maniacally, then a new wave of pain hit me.

This one was different. It came straight from the inside. My stomach ached and chest was on fire. I curled in on myself, screaming out in pain.

Ben tried to drag himself up to me, his destroyed leg dragging behind him. “Mal?! Mal, what’s wrong?”

“Aw,” Maleficent jabbed. “Are you sad to watch your dear princess in pain? How about-”

She was cut off by Jay charging her, grabbing onto her scepter and trying to take it from her grasp.

Sadly, Jay had no magical abilities and the scepter didn’t budge. My mother had total control over it.

Her eyes glowed, threateningly.

A blast erupted from the top of the scepter, knocking Jay down onto his back, the wind knocked out of him.

“Jay!” I called, feeling the effects of the spell she had me under wear off slightly as she focused her attention on Jay.

I forced myself to my feet, stumbling towards them.

“Now really dear,” she looked me up and down, “You would think you’d have learned your lesson by now-”

I flung an arm out towards her. “And now I command, wand to my hand!”

It felt as if all the air in my lungs left, to help guide the wand into my possession, but it worked.

“Mal!” Evie called.

Behind me, Evie and Carlos were finally fumbling towards us. Evie’s dress was torn and her temple was bleeding. Carlos was favoring his right leg, although his shin wasn’t shattered, like Ben’s was.

They helped Ben and Jay to their feet as I stared down my mom.

“This is between you and me, mother,” I growled at her.

She smirked. “You got good at magic. I’m almost impressed. Perhaps I will keep you alive. Although you’ll have to go through some major disciplining first.”

I swallowed the metallic taste in my mouth. I wouldn’t back down now. Not with all my friends standing behind me.

I lifted the wand up to her chin, my eyes lighting up, bright green.

“The strength of evil is good as none, when stands before five hearts as one!” I chanted.

Her bright eyes met mine, confident that she wouldn’t lose to my power. I had never been able to match her strength before. But if all the fairytales that our lives were based around were true, good would always prevail.

 “The strength of evil is good as none, when stands before five hearts as one! The strength of evil is good as none, when STANDS BEFORE FIVE HEARTS AS ONE!”

In another puff of green smoke, my mother screamed, dissipating with the smoke, leaving in her wake only a black cape and two covered horns.

I stared at it, unable to breathe. My eyes pricked with tears, watching the pile as if expecting this to all be a joke and for her to come back any minute now.

With the wand now in the hands of a pure soul, Fairy Godmother was reawakened. She slowly stepped down, staring between what was left of Maleficent and the broken, exhausted teens in front of her.

“Did I do that?” I cried. “Did I kill her?”

She shook her head sadly, “Mal, I’m so sorry.”

I burst out into tears, falling down beside my mother’s remains.

Carlos knelt down beside me. “Mal,” he murmured, rubbing comfortable circles into my back. “I think it’s time to give the Fairy Godmother her wand back.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, rawly. “Here.”

I dropped the wand into her outstretched hands, then continued mourning my mother.

It hurt like hell. Not really her death as much as the fact that I killed her. I had watched her murder two of my siblings. And at one point this might have felt like payback, but right now, all I felt was complete and utter fear. I had done what she had done. I had become a monster. Someone who kills their own family.

Carlos wrapped his arms around me and I sobbed into his shoulder.

“Bippity Boppity Boo!” the Fairy Godmother yelled.

The tear across my chest disappeared, leaving an ugly, bloody stain. My wrist and stomach also healed themselves. On the outside, I was perfectly healthy.

Ben, who was now able to use his leg, was next to me, gently wrapping his arms around me and taking me from Carlos.

I couldn’t stop crying, even as all the people came out from their spells and watched me, collapsed into Ben’s chest.

~ ~ ~

Ben stayed with me throughout it all. Days on end of sobbing, and panic attacks, and nightmares.

His Coronation was rescheduled for a week later, but no one made me go. I didn’t think I’d be strong enough.

Evie took care of me the days that I had locked myself into the dorm room. She brought me food and made sure that I drank a lot of water. She was constantly finding new tricks to monitor my breathing and calm myself down.

Jay and Carlos would visit. Carlos would teach Dude new tricks to make me laugh and Jay would tell me what was happening outside the castle, often times sitting beside me on the bed, with an arm around my shoulders.

Anyone who had escaped during the brief time the barrier was open had been rounded up and sent back to the Isle. Everything was how it should be.

Two days after the (re)Coronation, I found the strength to leave the dorms by myself. I looked a mess, I was well aware, but it didn’t matter. The hallways were completely empty as I walked to the main school building.

Fairy Godmother stopped short when she saw me walk in. “Mal, dear! Did you need something?”

“I, uh…” My voice was raspy, as it had been gone for the past few days. “I was wondering if I could speak to Jane?”

She looked at me, curiously, but didn’t argue. “Yes, of course dear. I believe she’s out in the garden.”

I thanked her and scurried away, hoping to catch Jane before she left.

Lucky enough, Jane was seated by the front entrance, next to Audrey. They were speaking quietly to one another, both freezing when they saw me enter.

“Hi,” I murmured.

Neither girl made a move to greet me back. But I didn’t expect it. I didn’t come here to be their best friend and sit and gossip with them.

“Jane,” I began. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”

She widened her eyes, flabbergasted. “No, I’m sorry! I should never have grabbed the wand! It was completely out of line and I messed up so bad by letting your… By opening the barrier,” she corrected. “You saved me.”

I shook my head wildly, “But you never would have wanted the wand if I hadn’t put all those awful thoughts in your head! I convinced you that you weren’t beautiful and that you didn’t deserve other’s love for it. But Jane, you are not worthless. You are so beautiful. Inside and outs.”

She bit down on her lip, trying not to smile too much. “Thank you, Mal.”

I nodded and my eyes caught Audrey’s.

After a second, she spoke. “I’m… I’m sorry about your mother.”

My eyes went glassy, but I shrugged and said, “As long as she can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Stepping away from the two of them, I left the garden, just in time to see Ben running towards me. “Mal!” he called. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

I nodded and he pulled me in for a hug.

“Why did you leave the room alone?” he said into my ear.

Looking up, he saw the two girls exit the garden behind me and breathed out a quick, “oh.”

I pulled away from him. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“Only a little,” he admitted, cheekily.

Holding hands, we began to make our way back to the school dorms.

“Are you feeling any better today?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I think I’m slowly starting to feel better everyday.”

“That’s good.”

“It is a bit overwhelming though,” I admitted. “Taking over the mantle of ‘Mistress of all Evil’”

Ben chuckled. “Oh no. Should I be worried?”

We laughed, bumping shoulders.

“But, in total honesty Mal,” he said. “Are you going to be okay? Is there something I can do to make this easier for you?”

I glanced at the floor, then back to him. “I’m just so scared that I’m going to become… like her, you know?”

He stopped me, shaking his head. “You are nothing like her.”

“You don’t know that-” I tried to say.

“Yes I do. Because I’m listening to my heart,” he told me, sappily. “Maleficent would have never made the decisions you did on that day. You chose to be good and to stand up for what you believed in. You protected my kingdom, Mal.”

“I want to be good,” I admitted.

“You are good,” he reassured me.

We continued the rest of the way back, in peaceful silence. It was comforting. I wanted to stay there forever, walking through the fields of Auradon with Ben for eternity.

“Yes,” I whispered to him, as we approached my dorm room.

“Hm?” he questioned.

“I haven’t answered your question. Two questions, in fact! But my answer to both is a simple, yes.”

“What questions are those?”

“Well, the first was a couple minutes ago. You asked me if I was going to be okay. I had to think about it, but my answer… it’s yes.”

“And the second question?” he asked, with a smile.

“The second question is from way back to our first date,” I informed him. “The spell washed off in the water, I jumped in to find you, you saved me, and then you asked-”

“‘Do you love me?’” he finished, playing back the moment in his mind.

“The answer,” I told him. “Is yes.”