#(i will unroll all the sleeves if i wear a coat over ALL that though. but only out of necessity aka i need to be able to bend my arms :P)

[b-blushes]

staff please let me have polls i need to ask my friends important questions such as "when you wear a thermal, is it all you can think about and is it at risk of derailing your entire day, or are you normal" :P

[dcforts]

[week 3: i can still recall our last summer]

1.6k, pre s12.

Dean said it was too hot. He’d said it fifty times already since they left the bunker this morning and they were not even halfway through the journey.

He huffed and puffed, saying how uncomfortable he was in his jeans and tshirt and how much he hated his sweaty skin sticking to the vinyl seat. Cas tried to look sympathetic.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” said Dean, his eyes on the road, little drops of sweat above his upper lip. “At least loose the trench coat. I feel like I’m wearing it, it’s making me physically sick,” he said overly dramatic.

Cas indulged him and slipped it off, took off his jacket as well and loosened his tie.

Then he unbottoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He did a pretty nice job of it, he thought. He'd had done it a couple of times before, but Dean always said it looked messy and usually rolled them down again to do them himself.

Cas didn't mind that too much; Dean's fingertips travelling up his arms felt different than anything else he'd have ever experienced and he kind of started anticipating it.

Dean must have felt really bad today though, because he didn’t do anything but throw a quick look at him. Despite not being affected by it, Cas could tell the weather was unusually hot and Dean was definitely not used to it. Still, he could do with a change of topic.

Dean seemed to cheer up a bit when they passed a sign saying they were nearing a gas station, but then spent the time it took to get there to complain some more and apologize to his girl for not thinking of getting her a drink sooner. Cas managed to avoid making a comment on Dean talking about his car like that.

The place was pretty much empty. There were only two pumps that looked pretty old and a little store behind them. Dean stopped the car at the pump closer to the road and wriggled in his seat to take out a few dollar bills from his jeans, “I’m gonna get gas, could you go ahead to pay and get me something to drink?”

Cas nodded, “Sure.”

So he stepped into the store where the A/C was blasting and some mellow music was playing in the background. He wandered towards the fridges that held the beverages and spent a while trying not to feel overwhelmed by the choices available.

He knew what kind of beer Dean preferred, but it was too early for that. He scanned the shelves and looked for something that seemed refreshing.

There was one kind of juice that promised to be a "Natural Fruit Drink" and was stored in little colourful pouches. It looked refreshing enough. He grabbed two lemonaded drinks and a big water bottle.

“Would you consider this being a refreshing beverage?”

The old lady at the cash register smiled at him as if he was being funny, “Sure. There’s only one*, right?” she said, winking. She looked like she was expecting a reaction from him, but Cas didn’t know what to say. First of all, he was paying for two pouches.

“Uh –"

“Nevermind, dear,” she huffed a laugh, “you were probably too young to remember.”

That was highly unlikely, Cas thought. Thankfully she was handing him his receipt already so he was able to get away from the conversation with a, "Have a good day, ma’am.”

When he got outside Dean was waiting for him leaned against the Impala. There was no one else still, so he wasn’t in a hurry to free the space and lose the shade of the canopy over his head.

He had his arms crossed and looked like he was thinking intensely. Probably a way to murder the Sun.

He looked up when Cas approached, “What you got for me?”, he said and when he saw what he was carrying, he had the funniest reaction.

He started laughing.

“What?”

“Capri Sun?” he laughed some more, genuinely delighted, “God,” he said, taking one of the pouches from Cas, “Wh-why did you get these?” he asked in a silly voice and didn’t even wait for Cas to reply. “I haven’t had one of these in like – forever.”

He turned the pouch in his hands and then his smile softened and disappeared. He cleared his throat and knitted his eyebrows.

“You don’t like it?” Cas asked, confused by the sudden change of expression. “I also got you water.”

“Uh – no,” said Dean, “No, nothing like that. It’s just –” he was still turning the thing in his hands and not making any move to start drinking it. “These remind me of my mum?” he said like it was a question. He looked up at him and let out a little laugh. “It’s – weird. I can’t really – I mean I was three. I know I can’t possibly remember, and maybe most of the things are like – a wish or a dream or something, but – You know when you get like, memories from tastes and stuff? Like in In Search of Lost Time.”

Cas didn’t really know.

It must have read on his face because Dean snorted, “Forget it,” and kept going, “It brings me back to when I was a kid and – I don’t know.” He looked at the pouch. “I think it was summer? Must have been summer. I don’t even – She’d like, take me to the park, I think. I don’t remember Sam being there, so it must have been the last summer where it was just me and her, you know, before she – ” he trailed off, his hand gently squeezing the pouch. “Yeah. Anyway, I don't even know if it's real. Could be a commercial or something." He clicked his tongue, then finally jammed the straw in the plastic and brought it to his lips.

Cas was still standing there, his hands full, watching him as he drank. There was more to the story and he didn't want to interrupt. Sure enough, Dean added, “Anyway, when she was gone and we got on the road, money got a bit tight. I remember crying and kicking ‘cause my dad wasn’t buying it for me. That I remember well. I remember I learned not to ask for it anymore. So I had kind of – forgotten about it.”

He fell silent. Dean's childhood had been unfair and tragic and if Cas could have had the power to do something to set it right he would have. Dean rarely talked about it so casually. He didn't seem sad like other times, but as he finished his drink, Cas still felt the need to tell him, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, I'm not upset," he was quick to reply, shrugging, "I mean, real or not, it makes me feel good." He flashed out a smile, "It's making me feel good right now," he said, raising his eyebrows playfully at him, "Guess it'll remind me of today now too. And at least I'm sure this is real."

“Is today really a good memory?" asked Cas, skeptical, "You complained all the way here. And I thought you said, 'I'd rather go back to Hell than live another day like this.'"

Dean snorted, “Yeah, well," he said, one corner of his mouth going up in half a smile, "the weather is not all there is."

He looked away and walked a few steps to throw out the empty pouch. On his way back he headed straight towards Cas, and came to stand very close to him.

Cas blinked, “Do you want the other one?”

Dean smiled like he was being funny. “Nah, I’ll drink that later,” he said, but still took out of his hands both the water bottle and the juice and Cas didn’t understand what was going on when Dean sent them bouncing onto the backseat from the open window, barely taking his eyes off of him. Cas could not help but stare back.

“What-" he tried to ask, but Dean was already cupping his left elbow with one hand, soon joined by the other and unrolling the sleeve of his shirt. Oh.

Dean lowered his gaze as he worked and Cas took the chance to stare at him from such a short distance, focus on his eyelashes, his sweaty brow, the dark freckles on his skin. He was really close, closer than Cas thought he'd like to be in this heat. Cas' arm dangled by his side like a dead weight when he released it and his right arm was already halfway up in offering. Seeing that made Dean smile a little.

They were really close.

They were really close and Cas kind of wanted to step closer.

“You are so bad at this,” Dean huffed, his fingertips and knuckles brushing his skin. Cas thought it hadn’t looked that bad, but Dean would surely know better than he. He'd almost finished rolling up the other one as well, and he was slowing down his movements.

Cas wished he had four other arms.

"So -" Dean said, taking his time to smooth the last of the wrinkles, "How about a deal? If I start complaining too much, you -", he pursed his lips like he was thinking it through, but he was just trying to be funny. Cas found him funny, "you can play some music, drown out my voice."

"Do I get to choose the tape?" Cas asked, feigning innocence.

Dean looked up to give him an unamused look that said he was taking it too far, but when their eyes met he realized Cas had been waiting for that and was actually holding back a grin.

So Dean puffed a sigh to smooth the smile that was threatening to curl his lips. It didn't really work so he had to look away to hide it.

"Fine," he said in the end, finally letting go of his arm. He gave him a pat on his shoulder as he walked past him. "I'll let you choose the tape." He pointed a finger at him from the other side of the car. "Just this one time."

Cas was fine with that.

*a reference to the 82' commercial you can see here - just a fun a coincidence that it's the same year Dean's referring to :)

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY UPDATE!

PART FIVE

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: flirting, alcohol, mentions of smoking  Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: This chapter is so cute to me. Pajama party anyone?  As always, thanks to the actual best editor alive today, @lantern-inthenight​ 

MASTER POST

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​

@bigblack-catattack​ @myownparadise96​ @lara-gvf​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​

It was undeniable that winter was on its way. The weekend brought predictions for temps in the lower 40’s and, even in the warmth of the apartment, you felt perpetually chilled.

Kate had messaged you late on Friday asking if you wanted to get coffee Saturday morning, and you had excitedly agreed to meet her at the local cafe called The Daily Grind (which, admittedly, you chose because of the cute name).

She had seen you bundled up like a burrito in two sweatshirts and a long-sleeved tee underneath and laughed, but you explained to her how you had never really been in temps this cold before.

Your fingers were wrapped as tight as they could go around your mocha as you watched her sip her black coffee, her maroon-painted lips leaving a mark on the white mug.

“When we’re done here, would you want to go with me to a thrift store? My mom sent some money for me to buy warmer clothes when she saw the weather for this area,” you said with an excited tone. “She’s afraid I’m going to get pneumonia.”

She hummed in an interested tone. “That sounds like fun. Which one do you wanna check out first?”

“You’ve been around here longer, so I’ll let you pick.”

“The one on Maple is the one where all the rich sorority girls go, so I bet you’d find some good stuff there,” she informed, tapping her nails against the ceramic.

You beamed a smile, relishing in the sunny feeling that only spending time with other girls gave you. “You wanna drive or me?”

+++

“Do you think if I buy a pair of jeans a size too big I could get away with wearing leggings under them?” you asked, flicking through the hangers. “I feel like the wind here cuts right through my denim.”

“Maybe two sizes bigger so you can wear sweatpants.” You knew she was teasing you by her playful tone, but that was actually kind of brilliant, you thought. “You should try this one.”

You had to get onto your tippy toes to see her over the long rack. She was holding up a soft-looking sweater, multicolored horizontal stripes running across the fabric. The color pattern reminded you of Twiggy from the ’60s.

“It’s cute,” you agreed, taking it as she handed it to you. By the time you were ready for a fitting room, you had a pile of things and the employee on duty looked not very excited to have to put them back when you were done, but luckily she wouldn’t have to. Pretty much everything fit perfectly.

You were shocked to see the total - where you were from, all of that would have been well over $60, even second hand, but you ended up forking over a measly $35, and you figured most of that total was from the nearly new jacket you had found.

As she was driving you back to the coffee shop, you exclaimed giddily, “I’m so excited to have warm clothes. Now Josh can finally have his sweatshirts back.”

She looked over at you surprisedly. “That’s Josh’s?”

“Yeah, he gave me three and I’ve been alternating between them.” You reached forward to turn her radio up a notch, Janet Jackson’s “All For You” perking your ears.

“Are you sure he wants them back?” she asked, giving you a coy smile that you didn’t understand.

You adopted a puzzled look. If she was alluding to something, it was lost on you. “Why wouldn’t he? They’re still perfectly fine - I was even careful not to get my perfume on them.”

Now stopped at a red light, she turned to give you a squinty look until she seemed to realize you were serious. “Nevermind,” she relented, smirking forward at the road.

When you got back home, Josh was gone. You shot him a message inquiring as to his whereabouts and started snipping the tags off of your new clothes with a pair of pruning shears. You were exponentially grateful for the fact that the washing machine in your building had been repaired - and with a shocking amount of haste too.

The smell of the laundry room down the hall was pleasant. It reminded you of the times when your mom would wash all the towels and blankets in the house, and that was a job that either required a laundromat, or an entire day switching loads.

At the end of your shopping day, you made out with three new sweaters, two pairs of thicker jeans, a new coat, a winter hat, and an actual pajama set, which would be infinitely warmer than the shorts and tank top you’d moved in with.

You cheerily popped your new clothes into the washer, along with a tide pod, some of your bras and underwear, and closed the lid.

Around 1 pm, Josh still wasn’t back and hadn’t replied, so you decided it was a perfect time to work on some self-care. The yoga mat you had packed had yet to see the light of day in Michigan, so you dug it out, unrolled it in your room, changed into some easy clothing, and pulled up a beginner’s tutorial on your phone. By the thirty-minute mark, you were sweating and tired, but the stretch in your muscles was oddly pleasant on top of the discomfort, so you pushed yourself to keep going until the video was done. The cute blonde running the tutorial suggested you take some time in your cool down to look inward, as she thought that was a big part of yoga. So, you laid there on the mat, staring up at your ceiling for a good, long while, just taking time to reflect and enjoying it.

Your room, and the whole apartment really, had become home so quickly. You hadn’t ever had the opportunity to test the theory before, but you had always imagined that leaving home would make you feel out of place.

But you didn’t.

Sure, you missed home in the way that any human that came from a loving and supporting family would, but you were expecting to ache for it. You had taken a long time in your backyard and in your favorite spot back home, just so you could have a final fix, but all that was to you now was a fond memory.

After a few moments of being alone with your thoughts, you were going to get up and take a shower, but you had decided to postpone it. While you were staring up at the ceiling, you realized that there was a lot of unused space that the sun hit toward the top of the room. Wasted sun was a felony in your book. You spent about an hour pulling down your curtain rod, removing the fabric, and replacing it with hanging pots of all sizes and lengths.

Your string of hearts, your pearls, your golden pothos - the thought of them being the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes in the morning was one that made you feel sentimental. You’d just have to be careful with watering.

Once you were satisfied with the placements, you made your way to the bathroom. As you waited for the shower to heat up to a tolerable temperature, you took some time to pluck any stray hairs around your eyebrows and gently brush the knots out of your hair. Self-care had always felt like a long term investment to you - one well worth it.

The warm spray of the shower felt amazing on your tired muscles, so you took your sweet time getting clean and enjoying it, then blow-drying your hair on low heat when you were finished. After, you excitedly got out your new pajama set, clipped the tags, and put it on.

Shortly thereafter, you heard a key slip into the lock on the front door. You were cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on your freshly scrubbed skin as you watched through the complete second season of the Simpsons, popcorn in your lap.

When he stepped into the house, he raised his eyebrows at you, surveying the area.

“What?” you asked, giving him a confused look.

“Just looking for the books and the homework.” You rolled your eyes at him before he continued on with, “I just always assumed that when I wasn’t around, you were doing boring, adult things.”

You gave him a playful shrug as you gestured to the noticeably book free space around you.

He squinted at you suddenly. “Are you in your pajamas? You know it’s like 3:30 in the afternoon, right?”

“They’re new!” you quipped. “And I was excited to wear them. You don’t have to be jealous, you could go get yours on and join me.”

The offer seemed to be tempting him. “I have a better idea. How about you go change, and we’re going to go to a party tonight.”

You scowled at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you crazy? I’m already in my pajamas. I’ve already taken my bra off! Once it’s off, it doesn’t go back on.”

He laughed, loud and unabashed, showing you all of his teeth. The sound made your cheeks flush.

“C’mon, I bet Kate will be there,” he reasoned. “And I obviously will be. And I’m positive Jake will be too. This might be your chance to get them to hook up.”

You bit your bottom lip in consideration. “The timing would be kinda perfect; she could have the whole day tomorrow to process it and then tell me about it on Monday.”

He was smirking at you when you looked back up at him, making you tuck your hair behind your ear anxiously. “If I come, do you promise not to leave me alone?”

He nodded at you confidently. “I will not leave you.”

The very first thing you did was message Kate. It was vital that she was there, just in case Josh got too drunk to remember his promise. You didn’t have a hard time socializing, per-say. You were just nervous about your first real social event here.

Josh was right though - it wouldn’t kill you to make some more friends.

When you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth, Kate messaged back saying that she would never miss getting to see you drunk, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you had to drive, so you opted to leave that part out. You worked on picking out a good, sensible outfit and took your time to put on makeup again. Admittedly, it felt kind of nice - you used to wear a full beat all the time, but somewhere along the line it started to feel tedious, which is something you never wanted any of your favorite things to feel, so you put the whole idea of it on the shelf for a while.

When you finally emerged from your room around 8, Josh was sitting on the kitchen counter, phone in his hands as he furiously typed out a message. You listened to the pleasant sound of his fingers tapping on the glass screen for a moment before speaking.

“Who are you messaging?” you asked, but it didn’t grab his full attention right away.

“Just one of the other theater guys,” he said through a near sneer. The only time you ever saw him looking distressed was when it came to his production. “Trying to tell me what I can and can’t do with my own production-”

When he looked up at you the rest of his thoughts seemed to escape him, all the emotion in his face and posture crumbling away.

You folded your hands together, giving him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

He tucked his phone into the pocket of his pants, abandoning whatever he had been so intent on doing just seconds ago.

“Yeah, I just haven’t ever seen you dressed up before.”

The extra attention made you slump back against the hallway wall, giving him a nervous grimace. Through pursed lips, you asked, “Is it too much?”

His eyes popped open, along with his mouth. It took him a moment to speak actual words - like he wanted to say a lot all at once. “What? No! I’m just stupid,” he assured, running his fingers through his curls. “It took my brain a moment to process.”

You gave him a forgiving smile, opening the fridge and grabbing out a carton of juice. He watched as you took a swig, letting you swallow before asking, “Do you want me to drive?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, finger swiping away a stray droplet. “Can you?”

“Drive?” he laughed. “Yes. I can drive.”

“Legally?” you pressed, handing over the carton to him when you caught him eyeing it. He took a drink right from the spout as well, giving you a wink that made you lovingly roll your eyes.

+++

You two seemed to unintentionally match. He was in a pair of khaki pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a denim jacket on top. You were positive he was going to freeze solid one of these days because he always seemed to be way underdressed for the weather.

As you went to get out of the car, he stopped you with a touch to your knee. “You should take off your jacket and hat and leave them in here; I wouldn’t ever trust leaving them unattended at a party.” He paused before speaking again. “Not that anyone would necessarily steal them, just that people get drunk and think stuff is theirs.”

“Like you did with the wallet?” you teased, making him rub at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” he said pointedly through a grin. “Like that.”

He held the sleeve of your jacket as you shrugged out of it, abandoning it into the back seat. You took just a second to mourn the fact that it would be cold when you went to put it back on.

In the rearview mirror, you fixed your hair, having been mussed by the removal of your hat, and then stepped out. He ushered you along first, reaching past you and pushing the door open for you when you had reached it. The music hit you like a wall, loud and energetic - followed quickly by the smell of alcohol. A cloud of smoke hung subtly near the ceiling, giving the room an air of mystery. You realized you hadn’t made a move to enter the house when you felt his hand on the middle of your back.

“Everything okay?” he asked, just above the volume of the music. You nodded, feeling silly for holding him up, and stepped inside.

People were moving to the music like blood reacting to a heartbeat, swaying around to the rhythms all in a pleasant unison. The scene was oddly hypnotic as the colors danced around.

The second that people could see Josh behind you, they started calling his name. Your stomach lurched for a second, scared that he was either going to leave you or drag you to a group that you didn’t know, but he waved them off instead.

“I’ll catch you guys in a minute,” he shouted through a grin so charming they couldn’t seem to muster up a shred of annoyance toward him. Then, he spoke the next part right against your ear. “You want a drink?”

“Just one,” you agreed with a nod, shivering ever so slightly as his breath hit your cheek.

In the kitchen, huddled around an island covered by bottles, was a group of people, all very visibly drunk. One of those people was Kate, dressed in a crisp looking pair of jeans, a white crop top, and a red checkered flannel shirt, left open to expose her midriff.

When she caught sight of you, she gave you a big, toothy smile. The sharp fringe of her bob moved just enough to sometimes expose a pair of gold disk earrings.

“Need a drink?” she asked as she broke away from the rest of the crowd. “I’ll make it for you.”

You put your hands up, laughing at her enthusiasm. “I’m going to let Josh make it for me,” you informed, knowing full well that she would make it strong enough to get you drunk and keep you in that state for the whole evening.

The one that Josh ended up making for you was, undeniably, a rum and Coke. Not your most favorite thing ever, but then again, this one was mostly just Coke. You made a mental note to thank him for being so considerate.

The three of you ended up in the living room, right in the throws of all the action. You’d been to a few parties back home, but this felt kind of different. Back home, it was always hot, so the parties usually spilled out into the yard in all directions. Come to think of it, you’d never been to a party where the guests weren’t making prominent use of the pool. But here everyone was packed in tightly, making a large house feel tiny.

Kate found you all a nice little corner with a love seat and some kind of weird puff you think you were meant to put your feet on. Settling in there meant you’d have to share the space with a couple of other people, but it felt worth it to not be standing in the middle of the room. Being out in the open made you feel nervous - like you were being circled by sharks.

The songs changed, but the beat seemed to stay pretty much the same, making it easy for the time to slip by without your acknowledgment. By the time you checked your watch, it was nearly eleven.

True to his word, Josh didn’t leave your side the whole night. People kept popping in and out to get a word with him. You couldn’t hear them well because he was sat across from you, but he was laughing quite a bit. Some of it looked kind of forced, but most of it seemed genuine - like he was actually having a nice time.

It wasn’t until you were close to getting ready to leave that you saw Jake making his way down the stairs, one hand on the wooden railing to steady himself and the other wrapped around a red cup. You flashed him a smile when his eyes landed on you, and he gave you one back, giving you a feather-light punch to your shoulder when he reached you.

“Move over,” he demanded in Josh’s direction, sitting nearly on top of him on the couch, with only light complaints from his twin.

“You smell like sex,” Josh said through a fake grimace, pressing his elbow into Jake’s ribs.

“Can’t imagine why,” Jake responded with a smirk, lifting the cup to his lips as you giggled at him.

The realization struck you as his eyes landed on Kate next. “Oh, Jake, this is my friend Kate. Kate, Jake Kiszka.”

She reached out and took his hand to shake and at the same moment, Josh laid his hand on your leg and through a grin, asked, “Should we take off?”

You laughed, giving him a nod.

“Kathrine, Jacob,” Josh started, clapping his hands together in front of him. “We are leaving. See you guys soon?”

“We should actually get tacos,” Kate stated seriously to the group as a whole, and then just to Josh said, “And my name is Kathleen.”

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-7)

Word count: 5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: fluff, feels... like a lot of them ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​​ You da best <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

14th August 2008

It was the third time you were looking into the mirror, straightening the pleats of your dress and smoothening your hair. It absolutely refused to behave today. 

“Y/N!” Jo yelled from downstairs. “Sam’s here!”

Your heart beat reacted to the news before the rest of your body. You stared numbly at the reflection in the mirror and it stared back at you stupidly.

Sighing, you picked up the coat which you had washed and pressed, and folded it on your arm.

Sam met you at the base of the staircase just like the last time. 

“You-” he started to say; in your nervousness you cut him off. “I’m just gonna tell aunt El and Jo that we’re heading out.”

Your aunt was at the table chopping onions and Jo was grinning at you widely over the top of her book.

Ellen smiled, “Have a great time,” she said, then a little louder. “You have her home by ten, Samuel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam made a big deal out of bowing.

Jo winked at him and mouthed ‘hot stuff,’ which you weren’t supposed to see but did anyway and blushed.

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Sam opened the door to his brother’s car for you.

“There’s really only one good place in the town,” he said apologetically. “Dean felt so bad about it that he even lent me the Impala. That way I can at least notch up some impression.”

You laughed and he gave you a winning look. The sort of look one would have on their face if they came across a twenty dollar bill out of the blue.

“How’re you holding up?” He asked, averting his eyes from the road just for a bit to look at you.

“I’m okay,” you answered, honestly. “I miss her awfully, and I feel lost sometimes, though the more I think about it, the more I feel relieved that she passed away peacefully and painlessly.”

She had been happy till the last day of her life, and you were trying to draw some peace out of that. Gran would have wanted you to.

“Here,” You handed him his coat, as you stepped out of the car in front of the restaurant. It was the same one that he had offered you on the day of the average birthday. You had never gotten around to return it.

Sam didn’t take it. “You hold on to it a little longer for me,” he said with a cryptic smile.

The restaurant was crowded, as was expected out of a Saturday night. The hostess met you at the door and when Sam gave her his name, she led you to a corner table. Sam pulled your chair for you like a true gentleman and then nudged the menu towards you.

You took a look at it, ordering the first thing that appeared familiar; some type of red sauce pasta. The table had lovely roses in a vase, with water sprinkled on them like dews. Underneath the vase and over the table was an expensive looking lace tablecloth. 

“You’re very quiet,” Sam said after a while. “What’re you thinking?”

“This,” you gestured towards the table in front of you and the restaurant in general. “I’ve never done this before.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

He really didn’t know. “I come from a small town, Sam. We didn’t have fancy restaurants there. Just one crappy diner and few take outs, and I’ve lived there all my life. In fact, the only few times I went to a city was to Topeka; once with Aunt El when I was thirteen and then a couple of times with a neighbour, to help my Gran with some bakery stuff. I’ve just never been to a fancy restaurant before.”

It baffled you that Sam even wanted to date someone like you who knew so little about the world, when he had been to Stanford and then to Yale and New York. What could he possibly hope to find in common with you? 

You were expecting him to look at you funnily. Instead, you found wonder in his eyes. 

“Yet, you wanted to apply to universities so far away?”

You looked down at where his hands lay on the table, and nervously placed yours over his. At first his hand jerked, as if he hadn’t expected it, but then flattened against the table top, allowing you to cover it with yours.

“My dad was a lawyer,” you said. “First person from that town to ever actually get out and get a degree, and Gran was so proud of him. I don’t remember much, but I remember him getting smartly dressed in the morning and mom picking a tie for him and tying it around his neck. Every morning she would do that, and every morning he would swoop her in his arms and kiss her.”

The waiter arrived with your food, and you quickly jerked your hand back. Sam looked bereft at the loss of contact. He didn’t press you for conversation though. 

The spaghetti was good; mouthwateringly so and you worried about how much it cost. You wanted to split for the dinner, and there was just so much money you had. You were hoping that the food wasn’t so expensive that you wouldn’t be able to pay. Sam had ordered what looked like a somewhat unappealing salad. You wanted to offer him your spaghetti but weren’t sure if that was against the etiquette.

Uhhggg curses to the small town upbringing. You knew nothing about this sort of thing, or even how to talk to boys. Maybe telling them on the first date about how woefully limited your knowledge was of the world was actually a bad idea.

You were hell-bent on making it worse.

“When I said I’ve never done this before,” you said slowly, rolling the fork in your spaghetti. “I also meant that I’ve never been on a date before.”

“What?” His fork clattered into the bowl, the shock clear on his face. 

Maybe now you had done it. You still wanted to clear it up. “I just- I don’t want you to think I’m super cool or something, when I’m not,” you stressed. “I don’t want you to have any expectations from me that I won’t be able to live up to.”

“Y/N,” he said. “It’s not like that. I’m just surprised that I’m lucky enough to be the first person who had actually managed to convince you into going out with him. Can’t say I’m feeling too sorry about all the poor souls who didn’t get the chance.” He grinned. 

He was just so good with words. It did relieve you of some of your worry. 

“Seriously,” he insisted. “Please don’t think that. All week I was worrying if you had changed your mind.”

How could you not think like that? He was the male model adonis type, from the big city and you were just so inexperienced. Sure a couple of guys in high school had asked you out, but no one had ever appealed to you the way Sam had. There was just something about him that was reassuring, like he would never break your heart. Like nothing could ever go wrong when he was around. When he was gone, however, the worry that he didn’t feel the same way about you started to seep in.

You ate the rest of your dinner quietly, feeling a bit stupid. Way to ruin your first date. 

Afterwards, Sam absolutely denied splitting the bill even when you insisted. You noticed that he also tipped the waiter well.

You were upset with yourself as you walked out of the restaurant. After dreaming for days about how amazing it would be to finally go out with Sam, you had gone ahead and made a mess of it. Worrying about what must be going on in his mind, you turned towards the parking lot.

“Hey, you mind if we walk back?” Sam asked in an unsure voice. “Dean’s close-by and he always keeps a set of keys, he’ll drive the car back home.”

“Sure.”

It was cold outside, and the thin-strapped dress you were wearing was not helping with the wind at all. So you unrolled Sam’s coat and pulled it over, regretting that unlike the last time, it wasn’t smelling like him. He saw you rolling the sleeves up and smirked.

As you stepped onto the pavement, Sam offered you his hand and you took it gladly. Maybe the whole evening wasn’t ruined.

“Sorry I’m making you walk,” Sam confessed. “I didn’t want the night to end just yet. I feel like I’ve been a terrible date tonight.”

What? 

“I had a great time!” You protested.

“Did you? Really?” He looked chagrined. “I am still being terrible. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked the moment I saw you on the stairs; I didn’t. In fact you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I didn’t tell you that, either.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. This felt unreal… not just because of his words, but because of how dazed he sounded.

“That’s not the only reason why I like you though,” Sam said hurriedly, as if he was scared of offending you. “It’s because you are one of the bravest people I know. Seeing you hold yourself at your Grandmother’s funeral, after losing everything… It was the hardest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

You had stopped walking. The two of you were simply standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands interlocked.

“And you’re so bright, so ambitious. Despite every shit hand that you’ve been dealt, you want to make something of your life. You have goals and a desire to prove yourself. How could I not want to be with you?” His eyes were melting, and so were you inside.

“Beyond that, you are kind and patient,” he said. “And I never told you any of it. I thought of it, over and over and yet I never said a word. So of course I’m a bad date.”

He was standing so close now, close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your face. You moved closer still and closed your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked softly. “Is it something I did? What aren’t you telling me?”

You placed your hands on his arms, more to steady yourself than anything. “I’ve never felt this way before, Sam,” you admitted. “I think of you all the time when I’m not with you, and when I’m with you, I feel giddy with happiness. I guess, I’m just scared that one day you’ll wake up and not find me interesting anymore.”

“Have you considered for a second that maybe I’m scared, too?” He asked. You opened your eyes and looked directly into his unearthly ones. They were reflecting the same need you felt, a strange and unknown hunger to touch, lean in just a bit closer and…

You gave in to that instinct just as he did, your lips colliding with each other’s. Sam was gentle at first, hesitant as he pressed his full lips against your bottom lip, drawing out the moment, but there was something desperate within you. You raised your hands and snaked your fingers through Sam’s hair- they were just as soft as you had imagined them to be- and dragged your teeth along his lower lip. Sam moaned into your mouth and his whole body shuddered. His muscled arms wrapped around your waist hoisting you up and he gave up on all attempts to be gentle, following your lead.

This was happening, you were actually kissing Sam. A giggled escaped you, and Sam pulled back, reluctance clear on his face.

“What?” He asked, face flushed, lips parted. You didn’t answer him, diving right into another kiss.

“One other thing,” Sam mumbled against your lips. “Of all the things that I should have said already, and I didn’t, I’m not going to hold back this one. It could be years and years from now, but I would never not find you interesting. I’ll never not want to just keep looking at you.”

*****************************************

Sam’s POV:

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Jody asked, coming to stop over him.

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Sam said, without looking up from his laptop.

He could feel Jody roll her eyes. “Stop being a smartass. I meant aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Sam read through the last line and closed the file. In fact, he took his time to push away the laptop, then remove his glasses, clean them with the tip of his tie, before looking at his now colleague. Jody had been a new addition to the faculty when Sam had been a student here. She had been one of his favourite professors then. Now, she was staring down at him with amusement in her eyes.

“I don’t have to go in today,” Sam said. “Chase said he’ll fill in at the hearing. I can just look over the papers from here.”

“If I didn’t know better,” she said sitting down next to him. “I’d think you were finding reasons for sticking around.”

Sam did a double take, “What? What makes you say that?” Surely she didn’t mean it.

Jody laughed. “I’m kidding. What’s got your panties in a twist? Loosen up.”

“It’s just that I’m not used to being alone. And I worry about him all the time,” he sighed.

“You know what you need?” She said, “You need alcohol in your life! Make the most of the alone time. He’s a good kid, you know that. He can take care of himself.”

“I know,” Sam said, feeling lame.

“Seriously, what’re you doing Friday evening?”

Sam didn’t even pretend to consider. He didn’t have a social life. “Nothing much.”

“We’re getting you that alcohol.”

“Sure.”

“If you’re sticking around,” she said too nicely, “Why don’t you help me grade the assignments?”

“Yeah, no thank you,” Sam said firmly. “I got enough of my own and you’re not dragging me into your bundle.”

Jody tried to smack him, but Sam ducked to the side, grinning.

“Eh, it’s not that bad,” she waved her hand. “The fresh batch is actually pretty impressive. I heard you let them off easy with just a case brief for an assignment.”

“I figured with you guys setting up the heavy essays, I’d let it slide this time.” He stood up to gather his files.

“It’s not the only thing I heard,” Jody said, eyes on the papers in her hand. “Your TA, Paul, said you were particularly happy about one girl’s brief. What was her name again?”

Sam swore internally. “Y/N. Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

She turned around to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You remember the names already.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. She didn’t press. “I actually checked through my stack for her essay, and what do you know! She’s actually gifted.”

Sam already knew that. He tried his best to not show it by attempting to look busy with his bag.

“It’s really funny,” Jody continued, looking at him curiously. “You know who her writing reminded me of? 

“Who?” He asked, already dreading the answer.

“You.”

“Really?” Sam said hurriedly packing his things.

“It’s actually quite weird,” Jody mused. “The same style of paraphrasing. And I’d know. You were one of my first students, and good, too.”

All packed, Sam turned and smiled tightly at her. “I’m still your favourite, though.”

“That you are, Winchester,” she winked. “Heading to the library again?”

“Yeah, I gotta return a book,” he said grimly.

Thankfully, it was only 4:30 and Molly was at the desk. It would be another hour and a half before her shift ended. She gave him a bright smile as he placed the book on the desk. “I need a huge favour,” he said urgently. “Can you quickly pull out the Development Control and Promotion regulations for San Jose? I need a specific hard copy. There are yellow tags on the pages.”

“Right up.” 

Molly disappeared into the shelves and Sam congratulated himself on finding a quiet place to  go through the references for the case he was working on, where no would quiz him about his past life. The solution for the case was in semantics, he knew that. It was still a lot of research and he needed to verify what his junior had sent him.

“Here you go,” Molly handed him the exact copy he had been working out of on Friday. “I don’t know why the hell you’re still living in the 90’s with paper tags, but to each his own.”

“Molly, you’re a lifesaver!”

She blew him a kiss and he went off to the farthest corner of the library. Sam had discovered this spot when he was a student here. No one ventured this far back, and it was well hidden from view.

He set up his laptop and got to work. It was all there. In bits and parts he put together a pretty good defense for his client. It did help that the client was wrongly accused of property damage to begin with, and the timeline of how things had gone down worked in his favour. Before he knew it, he had a rejoinder of his own ready to go for the next hearing. 

Sam stretched his arms, and looked up to see that it was dark outside. Already? 

He flicked his wrist to look at the watch. It was quarter past 7. Where had the time flown?

Sam craned his neck sideways to look at the librarians desk and there she was in front of the computer, looking intently into the screen. From here, Sam couldn’t see Y/N’s face. Just her profile. She wore a pale grey t-shirt and jeans underneath, not what she had worn to class today morning. Sam hated the fact that he noticed as well as remembered what she was wearing each day. He forced himself to look down and concentrate on the work at hand. He just had to phrase the concluding statements and it would be done. However, all the force that had been driving him for the past few hours seemed to disappear just like that. Try as he may, he got stuck on simple words. Soon he had read the same line five times. It didn’t help that he kept stealing glances at her.

This wasn’t like class, where he had so many eyes trained on him, where he was obligated to deliver a perfect lecture. No one was watching him now, which made it thousand times harder to keep his eyes off her.

She was busy working, completely unaware of his presence. Hadn’t she spent the past years like that? Completely unaware of what was happening with him. Anger burned bright and new within him. When he had read the brief about the Weather man case, he was already impressed before seeing who had written it. It had to be her! Sam had fought with himself over announcing her name in front of the whole class. But if it had been any other student, he’d have praised them, right? So he had to be fair and praise her, too. Never-mind that the words would burn on their way out. He had swallowed his feelings and done what was right.

Every little thing about her, may it be those cookies, or running into her in the corridors affected him to the point where it was all he could think about for the rest of the day. So had he been under the wrong impression all this time? Had he not moved on at all?

Y/N was still engrossed in her work, but as Sam looked closely, he soon realised that she was rubbing the nails of her hands against each other. Her feet were drawn up on the chair, under her legs and her shoulders were hunched. He squinted and could make out the slight shivering of her frame. She was cold.

He looked away. It wasn’t his problem. Y/N was hypersensitive to cold. She knew that very well, and made it a point to carry sweaters. If she was indeed that cold, she could just pull on one. 

Sam went back to his rejoinder, typing out two more sentences of the conclusion. However, his eyes kept flitting towards her, as she rubbed her hands. Y/N smiled at the people who came by, asking for books. By this point it wasn’t hard to see that her lips were quivering, maybe her teeth were chattering, too. There was no sweater nearby. 

There were so many reasons that stopped him from helping her. So many. And for all his anger and seething, all Sam wanted to do was go over and hug her so tight that she would stop shaking. He couldn’t. It wasn’t his place to do that anymore.

Sam’s fingers balled into fists in frustration and helplessness, nails digging into the flesh of his palms painfully.

Just then a girl came wandering over. She looked in her teens and Sam wondered what she was doing here. 

“Are you from the college?” Sam asked her, certain that he had never seen her before.

The girl gawked at him. “I’m seventeen, dude!”

Sam didn’t care what she was doing here, but the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. “Hey, if it’s not too much to ask, please could you help me with something?”

Reader’s POV:

It had been a slow morning  and an even slower afternoon. After Professor Mcleod’s class, the last one for the day ended, you decided to duck back to the apartment for a while. Madison asked you to hang out with her afterwards, but the thought of hanging out with Brad and the rest of that girl gang, didn’t appeal to you much. You had thought that you’d get over their raving about Sam, but the more you listened the harder it got. Neither could you say anything. You didn’t own Sam. So it was better to avoid them as much as you could for the sake of your own mental peace.

Since it was only two, you could actually catch some sleep before heading for the night shift which started at 6 pm and ended at 2 am. Usually everyone emptied out the library by then. You could clock in an extra hour if someone wanted to stay back. There was a Librarian’s room which you could use to catch your sleep, but from having worked two nights, you figured it was better to walk back home and grab a few hours in your own bed before classes. What was the point of living so close if you weren’t going to make the most of it?

The apartment building was too quiet and empty at this hour on a Tuesday. The only other people were Pam and Cas, both knocked out after the night shift. Even Kevin had to show up at work today. You contemplated whether to start reading for college but decided against it and headed to bed instead.

It turned out to be a bad idea, because given your track record of not waking up to the alarm lately, you slept on till the front door banged open. You sat up straight, disoriented. 

“Y/N?” Meg called, uncertainly. “You’re home?”

“Sure am,” you answered through a thick throat. Like an idiot you had fallen asleep in your morning clothes and were sweaty and icky now. 

Meg appeared at the door of your room. “Whoa, you’re sleeping! I thought you’d be at work.”

“Why would I be at work,” you said, sleepily, turning to the clock. “It’s only- 5:45! Shit!”

You jumped out of the bed and ran straight for the shower. 

“Doesn’t your shift start at 6?” Meg shouted from outside. She sounded amused and it only worked you up as you stripped at a super speed and got into the shower. The water was cold and it was all you could do to not yelp at the sting of it on your skin. Thankfully, Meg hadn’t stuck around in the living room, when five minutes later you made a beeline for your room wrapped in just one towel. At least you didn’t have to worry about what to wear this time. A pair of jeans and any top would do. On your way out, you grabbed your bag, laptop and keys.

“Meg, I’m so sorry I didn’t cook. I was just so tired, I fell asleep.”

Meg, who was filling her nails with what looked like a pen knife, gave you an incredulous look.

“Y/N, fuck dinner! I might just go out anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “You go go go!”

You muttered a thanks and then sprinted at full speed, coming to stop seven minutes later in front of the library.

Molly was fixing the slips for the day. 

“Molly, I’m so sorry- “

“Save it,” Molly waved her hand. “It’s just 6 o five.”

“Yeah okay,” you sat down, catching your breath.

“Hey listen,” Molly said, “There’s a few kinds from Palo Alto high school. They’re visiting with their teacher. That woman you see-” she pointed towards a middle aged woman who was breathing down a teenage boy's neck- “that’s her. The kids are well behaved, but they’ll stick around till dinner. You think you can manage?”

“Sure, I can do that!” 

“Good luck,” she gave you a thumbs up before leaving.

As had become your unwitting habit lately, the moment you were free of a conscious thought, your mind went to Sam. He had been so frequent to the library before- Molly had been clear about that- but since your joining, he had not shown up once. Maybe your face was still that repulsive to him.

Feeling dejected, you slid your bag under the table, plugged your laptop on charging and settled into the seat, ready to go through the night’s tasks. It didn’t take you longer than five minutes to figure out that you had left your sweater at home in all the hurry to get here. Suddenly, the conditioned air in the room felt ten times colder and you grabbed your arms, hugging yourself. Oh, this was going to be a terrible evening. You briefly contemplated calling Meg, then remembered that she might have gone out for dinner, and both Kevin and Jack were out. Even Pam and Cas would have returned to their night shifts by now. 

You would have to sit through this. 

The high school teacher came over and introduced herself, then pointed at the seven kids she had brought with her. You barely managed to listen to what she was saying though, trying your best to warm yourself by chaffing your hands against your arms. 

“Hey, you think you can grab a copy of Lord of the rings for me?” One of the kids asked, coming up to you.

You forced a smile. “I’ll have to check if we have that one. We d-don’t stock too much fiction here. You would find multiple editions of it in the Central Librar-ry th-though.” 

You typed in Tolkien in the catalogue. Somehow one copy was still there.

Shivering, you turned back to look at the boy. “We have t-two towers. If you’ll give me a minute, I can get it for you.”

Breathing in and out of your mouth, you walked to the shelf and retrieved the book for him.

“Here you go,” you said. “Be sure you h-hand it in b-before you go.”

Maybe you should call Meg anyway, you thought. There was no way you could get through the night like this with nails turning blue and your teeth chattering.

“Hey!”

One of the school girls was standing before you with a blank expression on her face. “Here.” She put down bunched up fabric in front of you.

Thoughtlessly you took it, unfolding it to realise that it was, in fact, a grey coat. The sort that was part of a three piece suit. You ran your fingers over the fabric. It was soft and expensive, but felt so warm.

“Put it on!” The girl said. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

You held up the coat. “W-Who gave this to you?”

“That dude sitting at the back,” she said. “He asked me to give this to you. That’s all I know.”

You twisted your torso to glance at the table the girl had pointed to. It was empty. 

Strange.

You put on the coat nevertheless, shivering violently as the fabric began to contain the body heat. Soon enough you stopped shaking completely, the warmth reminding you of happier, easier times. You walked around the corner to see who it was, but there was no one there. Shrugging you pulled the coat closer around, inhaling deeply. The scent of his cologne hit you like a ton of bricks. 

It couldn’t be.

You took a look at the coat again, remembering what Sam had been wearing in the morning. It was a grey suit- in fact, this very grey. Without thinking, you rushed back to the very end, looking for him, but he was most definitely gone, leaving you with his borrowed warmth. You sank in your chairs, tears blurring your vision. 

Sam was here… and he still cared.

*******************************

A/N 2: Aaaaahhhh so what do y’all think??? I mean the reader will have to do something with the coat, right? Do you think it will finally make them talk? ;)

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[sp4c3-0ddity]

April 24 for the prompts. Your plance sailor AU with the inappropriate use of a plank. In Keith's words, 'go loose'.

Confession:  no planks were used in the making of this fic. also, there is a cliffhanger, but that’s just because of who i am as a person.

Loosely a sequel to ‘Siren Song’, which can be found here on ao3 or here on tumblr

Has some violence and mentions (but not portrayal) of torture. ~5200 words. Enjoy!!

Pidgestruggled to stay calm as a man almost twice her height clapped irons over herwrists. Her heart pounded in her chest, the shackles nearly forcing her handsdown, as her two crew mates received similar treatment.

“Comealong now,” said the man - the pirate -that held Pidge by the arm. He pulled her along, his grip strong enough thathe’d leave bruises, and Pidge stepped fast to keep up with his pace.

Embarrassingly,where only one man was required to keep herunder control, Lance and Hunk each stood between two, filing onto the shipand across the deck behind her. She heard Hunk grumbling under his breath, atleast until he earned a smack to the head, and stiffened.

Theship was cleaner than she expected, the wood shining with a fresh wash, and thecrew moved around with an air of military precision. Pirates though they were,their captain must appreciate organization.

Perhapsthat would make him easier to bargain with, or so Pidge hoped.

Thethree of them were forced to kneel on the scrubbed deck, knees digging intohard wood. But their captors still kept a grip on them, and Pidge tried to keepher head up, to not let the shackles around her wrists weigh her down.

“Ifwe die here,” Lance muttered to her, “I’m going to kill you.”

“That’sfair,” Pidge conceded with a nod. “I promise we won’t though.” She glanced athim from the corner of her eye, blinking when his met hers. “I just—”

“Quiet!”the pirate that captured her shouted, smacking her upside the head and knockingher off balance.

“Hey!”another pirate, shorter than all the rest, exclaimed as he darted towards them.

Pidgefell forward, landing with an elbows; the shock of the fall sent a shudderthrough her body. Her teeth clipped her lip, hard enough that the metallictaste of blood filled her mouth, and she breathed heavily when she finallyknelt upright again. “I’m fine,” she reassured Lance and Hunk, who stared at herworriedly, before her eyes flicked to the black-haired pirate that hadprotested her treatment. She smiled at him, right before spitting a mouthful ofblood and saliva out onto the clean deck.

“Guessthe captain will have you scrub the whole deck in shackles, boy,” said thefirst pirate, but to her relief he didn’t hit her again.

“Ew,”Hunk muttered.

Heavyfootsteps then shook the deck, and another man, not quite as tall as Pidge’scaptor but just as imposing wearing whiskers and an eyepatch, approached. Hestood in front of them, his single eye swiveling from Hunk, to Lance, beforelanding on Pidge. “These are the thieves?”

“Thevery ones, Captain Sendak,” said the tallest pirate.

Pidge’sheart pounded as he passed the captain what she’d stolen right out of hispocket. She cursed herself for being sloppy, for forgetting all the tricks ofsleight of hand her brother taught her and getting not only herself but Lanceand Hunk as well captured.

Oh,how stupid she was, winding up on apirate ship as a prisoner rather than a spy or tentative ally.

“Itlooks unharmed,” said Sendak, taking the scroll from his crew member. Heunrolled the map and commented, “Not even any stray marks.”

“Itwas the smallest one who took it,” the other explained, pointing a finger intoPidge’s face. She glared at it, tempted to bite it, but he lowered his handbefore she had the chance. “But the others were bystanders and didn’t stopher.”

Lanceblinked, raising an eyebrow at them. “What makes you think we knew what he wasdoing?” he demanded.

Hereyes widened at his words. Was he—no, he was trying to talk their way out of this, not just his. He wouldn’t abandon her to thepirates, he wouldn’t—

“Listen,gentlemen,” Lance said with a shrug, “sure, we’re friends—”

“Somefriend,” Pidge hissed.

“—butdo I really want to get punished with someone who didn’t think about me when she committed her crime?” Hesmiled charmingly - or, Pidge supposed itwould be charming if she didn’t want to wipe the smile from his face - up atthe captain and his subordinate.

“She?”the crew mate asked, blinking.

Ashiver traveled up Pidge’s spine as she fully processed Lance’s words, but she turnedher head to glare at him, at least until she found her own panic mirrored onhis face.

“No,I said ‘he’,” Lance quickly amended with a nervous laugh. “He’s our ship’s cabin boy, and sure, he gets into trouble sometimes- once he jumped after sirens - buthe’s—”

“Haxus,”Captain Sendak interrupted, “take them to the brig and separate them. If he’sright and the small one is the chiefculprit, I’ll want to question her moreclosely about why she stole this map once we’re at sea.”

“Yes,sir,” said the tall pirate, Haxus. An arm crossed over his chest as the captainswept away, and he and a few other crewmates turned to them.

“Oh,quiznak,” Pidge said.

“Pidge—”

Haxuspulled Lance up by an arm, interrupting him before he could make any apology.He pushed him towards a crew mate, who took him away. Hunk followed right afterwith another, but Pidge was forced to linger.

Sheignored the eyes of the shortest, black-haired pirate on her, only staring atHaxus, who leveled a glare at her. Despite including both eyes, it couldn’t compare to Sendak’s glower. But fear at whatfate awaited her - for stealing an important map, for being a girl - traveled up her spine as she metHaxus’ eyes.

“You’rejust a child,” Haxus observed.

“Cabinboys usually are,” Pidge pointed out.

Haxusraised his hand, but before Pidge could do much more than flinch, he loweredit. “I’ll leave you to the captain then,” he said. He forced her to her feet,and without waiting for her to regain her balance, tugged her away after Lanceand Hunk.

Pidgesat somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship, deep enough that the only lightthat reached here was that spilling from the hatch leading back up to thecrews’ quarters. The ship was well underway, the motion making her rock aroundeven when she lay down on the floor, muchless clean than that on the deck above.

Thecreaking of the ship kept her from dozing off, along with Lance’s and Hunk’sdistant voices.

They’d been put in thesame cell, those lucky assholes.

Sheimagined the conversation they’d be having, probably about Hunk’s stomach; italways took him over an hour to recover from a launch, which made her wonderwhy he chose to be a sailor at all.

Shemulled through Lance’s words to the captain - did he really try to throw her to the sharks just to save his own skin?Pidge rolled onto her side, the thought sitting awfully in her gut, butrecalling that their capture was entirelyher fault tempered some of her fear with shame.

Butshe glimpsed the face of the map, the words inscribed on it in a language sherecognized only from her father’s journals, and she had to have it. It was only rotten luck and poor timing that Haxuscaught her before she could even stick her hand into his coat pocket.

Pidgecovered her face with her arm and groaned. Her lip throbbed from where she bitit earlier, a matching ache on the back of her head, but the awful stench ofthe brig distracted her from the pain even when she pressed her sleeve over hernose.

Herpains and discomfort had to wait though. Now she needed to think of a way toget herself and her crew mates out of this, preferably without any of themdrowning. So she sat up, leaning against the wall closest to the cell occupiedby Lance and Hunk.

“Hunk!”she called out. “How are you doing?”

Aftera long pause and a few furious whispers, Hunk replied, “Oh, well, you know,pirates aren’t as smooth at sailing as navy ships!”

Pidgechuckled, amused despite the situation, but then she swallowed and said, “How’sLance?”

“He’s—”

“Lance can speak for himself, thank you,”Lance cut in irritably. Pidge could imagine him either nudging Hunk out of theway or clapping a hand over his mouth. “So…explain what the hell you werethinking with that map, Pidge!”

“Onlyif you explain what you were doing giving me up like that!” Pidge retorted,hackles rising. She crossed her arms, or tried to as the shackles she stillwore interfered, iron chain links clanking.

“Thatwasn’t my intention!” Lance yelled. “I was tryingto talk our way out of this!”

“Bytelling them that you were innocent?”Pidge said, snorting disbelievingly. “Right, of course, that would’ve worked sowell for me.”

“Pidge,Lance—”

“Wewouldn’t be here if it wasn’t foryou!” Lance cut Hunk off.

“Thenmaybe—”

Adoor slamming shut interrupted them, and Pidge stiffened at the sound ofapproaching footsteps. Her anger at Lance dissipated, and then Haxus stood infront of her cell, a ring of keys in one hand as he glared down at her.

“Whyare you talking?” he demanded.

“Wewere fighting,” Pidge said.

“Well,you’re not to talk to your fellows,” Haxus said. “Now stand up. We’re going tosee the captain.”

“Wait,what about us?” Lance asked from deeper into the brig. “We all—”

Haxusmarched off and rattled the bars on Lance’s and Hunk’s shared cell. “You don’tget to absolve yourself of the girl’s guilt only to attach it to yourselflater,” he told them. “But don’t worry, the captain may still have use foryou.”

Pidge’sheart pounded so wildly she feared it would shoot out of her chest when Haxusreturned and unlocked her cell. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled herupright, dragging her behind him and up the stairs. The futility of strugglingagainst a man so much bigger and stronger than her made it difficult to considerescape, never mind that they were already several hours out to sea.

Haxusled her down a narrow hallway, far cleaner than the brig, to a low door ofpolished wood. He rapped on it, and when Captain Sendak bid them to come in, heopened the door and pushed Pidge inside ahead of him.

Thoughclean, the captain’s cabin was sparse in furnishings, more military than Pidge would’ve expected of a pirate. A simple cotbolted to a wall with a desk on the opposite side of the room, a covered oillamp on the surface and a chair across, which Haxus practically shoved Pidgeinto.

Pidgebit her lip, almost more irritated with the manhandling than she was frightenedof the situation. The irons shackling her wrists sat heavily in her lap as shemet Captain Sendak’s one eye.

Atleast until a scroll of yellowed paper stretched out on the desk caught hereye.

“Whatis your name, cabin girl?” Sendakdemanded, drawing Pidge’s attention back to her face.

Shescowled at him. “My real name?”

“Thename you go by aboard your ship.”

“Pidge,”she told them, seeing no harm and telling thistruth.

“Andwhat ship did you serve aboard?” he wondered, propping his elbows on the deskand concealing the map with his arms.

Shefrowned, narrowing her eyes as if that would help her see the map through him,but said, “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Well,as I am your captor—”

“Actually,I’m pretty sure that’s Haxus here,” Pidge pointed out, nodding towards theother pirate.

Sendakscowled at her. “And I am his captain, so it is in your best interest to answer allmy questions whether you deem them relevant or not.”

Pidgesmirked, the better to hide the anxiety making her blood rush in her ears. “Yousound awfully educated for a pirate,” she observed. “To be fair, I’ve never meta pirate before today.” 

Sendaktapped his fingers against his desk. “What was the name of your ship?”

“Idon’t have a ship,” Pidge told him.

“Areyou not a cabin boy?”

“Acabin girl, actually.”

“Ifyou insist on being difficult,” Sendak said with a glare, “I will have torevise my technique.”

Pidgeblinked innocently at him. “Technique?”

Sendaksmiled, but rather than reassure her the sight of it sent a shiver down herspine. “Put simply, your obstinacy in answering my questions do you no favors, Pidge.”

Pidgeswallowed, appraising him, though between Haxus’ firm hand upon her shoulderand Sendak’s snarly smile, she more than believed them. She rattled hershackles, gaze flitting about the cabin and half-hoping to find someopportunity for escape around, then looked back to Sendak.

“Iserved aboard the HMS Galaxy,” shetold him, “in the Arusian Navy. It’s not a battleship though, just a trade shipescort since…well, pirates.”

Sendakhummed approvingly. “And you sneaked in as a girl because…?”

Pidgenarrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, that I’m not telling you.”

“Girl,do you want to know what I can and will doif you refuse to answer my questions?”

“Tearoff my fingernails one at a time?” Pidge said, and despite her feignednonchalance the prospect did not cheerher.

“No,we may be pirates, at least by Arusian and Altean standards, but we’re notbarbarians.”

“What’sthe difference?” Pidge spat. “It’s your faultI’m here—wait, did you say Altea?”She stared at him, wide-eyed, until her gaze once more traveled down to thehalf-hidden map.

Sendakspread his fingers over the paper. “Oh, you have an interest in the map beyonda passing curiosity?” He sneered. “You’ve told me enough for now; Haxus, returnher to her cell.”

Haxusonce more wrapped a large hand around Pidge’s arm, and though she struggledagainst him this time, wanting that damn map,oh so desperately wanting the answers it would provide, the fight quicklyproved futile. Heat pricked at her eyes by the time Haxus tossed and locked herin her cell in the brig, and frustrated tears dripped past her pinched eyelids.She wiped her eyes with dirty hands, sniffing, and curled up into a ball.

“Pidge?”Lance’s voice called from his cell. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

Maybe,before capture, a part of her would’ve been elated to hear how worried for herhe sounded, but now dread sank into her stomach, and though she’d glimpsed themap, she could feel her family drawing further away from her by the second.

“Pidge?”Hunk said. “What happened?”

“Pleasetalk to us,” Lance added. “I’m sorry I said what I did on deck; I’m sorry,just…tell us you’re fine.”

Pidgesighed, and after making sure her voice wouldn’t tremble, she cleared herthroat and promised, “I’ll be fine.”

Shedidn’t consider it a lie, even if it would take time and effort to come true. 

Pidgeslept fitfully on the hard cell floor, the motion of the ship on the wavesrocking her into an uneasy doze disturbed by memories. When she closed hereyes, she discovered her father’s secret journals all over again, covered in ascript she hadn’t a prayer of recognizing; she heard a man from the navy stopat their house and speak to her mother. Her mother’s sobs as she cried herselfto sleep that night filled her head, but Pidge - Katie - lay awake, a risky plan taking root in her head.

Therumbling of her stomach woke her, and for a moment Pidge stared up at the grimyceiling, wondering why it wasn’t that of her bedroom in her parents’ house.When she turned her head, she found no stale glass of water standing on thebedside table, no dolls or sunlight slipping through thin white curtains.Instead rough wood made up her surroundings, and it all came back to Pidge in arush.

Pidgesat up slowly, reaching with some difficulty to rub her head. She yawned,groggy, and slid towards the cell door to attempt to peer out. “Lance?” shecalled. “Hunk?”

“Pidge!”Lance said. “How are you? You really had us worried yesterday, after—after youcame back.”

Pidgesighed and said, “They didn’t torture me if that’s what you wondered about.” Yet, she added to herself.

“Whatdid they want from you?” Hunk asked. “And what’s so special about that map?”

Shestiffened and rubbed her face. Perhaps she didowe them an explanation, but now…well, Haxus or another pirate could walkdown into the brig any minute.

Ratherthan answering, Pidge said, “I swear I’ll tell you everything as soon as we getout of this.”

“Andhow do we do that?” Lance said.

“Yeah,”Hunk agreed. “I don’t fancy escaping on an empty stomach.”

Lancesnorted, and even Pidge couldn’t help a giggle at Hunk’s words.

Asif summoned, the short pirate entered the brig, surprisingly light footstepsstill echoing through the small space. He stuffed a small tray beneath Pidge’scell door, face impassive, but before Pidge could summon the wherewithal toquestion him about his reaction to her the previous day, he left, only pausingagain in front of Lance’s and Hunk’s cell.

Pidgefrowned after him but pulled the tray towards her, and though the fare lookedsimple and plain - a bowl of oatmeal and a packet of stale crackers - she atethem without complaint.

“It’shard to hate travel rations when you’re hungry,” Hunk pointed out.

Lancelaughed and said, “Sorry, but you can’t have mine.”

“Iwasn’t asking for them,” Hunk retorted.

“Thenwhy did you…”

Pidgetuned out the sound of their friendly bickering, though it still brought aslight smile to her lips. It was familiar, almost normal despite the setting. But the prospect of what that day mightbring still turned the crackers to ash in her mouth, and she called out, “If Iwas any closer, Hunk, I’d give you my food.”

“See?”Hunk said to Lance. “At least someone else respects my appetite.”

Lance,however, ignored him. “Pidge, what did happenwith the captain?”

Pidgesighed, pushing the half-empty tray away from her. “He just questioned me,” shesaid. “He’ll probably question me again; I told him more than I meant to, butnot as much as he wants.”

Silence- she could imagine them exchanging a glance - then Hunk said, “Oh, well, whydon’t you tell him what he wants?”

“Whywould she do that?” Lance asked.

“Toavoid getting tortured, maybe?” Hunkposed.

“Oh,yeah, that would make sense.”

Pidgerolled her eyes, though neither would be able to see her, and said, “I don’tthink I can. It might…make things worse.”

“Howso?” Hunk said.

Pidgeshifted, rattling the chain still connecting her wrists and contemplating thebruises that must now decorate them underneath the cuffs. “Talking mightendanger…some people I love.”

“Oh,then…I’m sorry, Pidge,” Lance said.

Shebit her lip. “It’ll be fine,” she told them. “There’s not much I can tell thecaptain anyway.” She laughed, though she scarcely felt amused. “He probablyknows more than I do anyway.”

“Isthat so?”

Pidgeflinched, staring up at Haxus, who’d appeared while they were talking withouther noticing.

“Sothe prospect of torture doesn’t frighten you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow ather.

Shenarrowed her eyes at him. “Do your worst,” she challenged, despite the fearmaking her heart race.

“Ifwe must,” Haxus said. “Captain Sendak summons you to the deck, all of you.”

“What?”Pidge demanded, her eyes widening. “Why?”

“Thisconversation I’ve overheard has me convinced that the captain’s original plan may prove ineffectual,”Haxus explained, “and I’m sure he’ll agree.”

Pidgestood and watched a couple other pirates dragging Lance and Hunk past her celland up the stairs. They tried to struggle, both grumbling about beingmanhandled, but their voices faded the further away from her they were taken.Then she was left with Haxus.

Pidgeglared up at him, hating him; she wassick of being frightened, worriedabout what would become of her and her friends aboard a pirate ship, and oneway or another it would end today. “What does Sendak want with them?” she asked. “They’re clueless, andthis is my fault.”

“Ofthat there is little doubt,” Haxus agreed, “but I suspect they might be used topersuade you.”

Hereyes widened at the implication in his words, but she refused to read into it withoutseeing proof for herself.

Haxusopened her cell door and grabbed her as roughly as before, tugging her up ontothe deck. Pidge blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight, the skyperfectly clear, and she inhaled the inviting salty ocean breeze, a welcomerelief from the scent of refuse in the dirty brig.

Anyrelief she might’ve felt vanished when her gaze landed on Hunk and Lance, bothblindfolded and standing on the edge of the deck with no railing between themand a long fall into the sea. Their hands were still bound in irons, theirbacks to the water, and two pirates held pistols to their heads.

Oneof the pirates - the short one with black hair - met Pidge’s eyes, the end ofhis gun lowering slightly so that it was pointed at Lance’s shoulder ratherthan his head.

Ithardly reassured Pidge; her heart still pounded wildly in her chest, eyesgrowing wide at the sound of a gun being cocked followed by something cool andmetallic pressed to her own temple.

Pidgeswallowed around the lump in her throat. “You had questions, Captain?” sheasked.

“Isee you’re catching on, girl,” said Captain Sendak from behind her, his voiceso close to her ear that it sent a fearful shiver up her spine. “Now tellme:  why did you wish to steal the map?”

Pidgeglanced from Lance to Hunk, saw them both grimace, and said, “If I tell you—”

“Don’tdo it, Pidge!” Lance said, earning himself a whack to the head from a pistolhandle.

Pidgeflinched but glared at Haxus from the corner of her eye. “Why don’t you—”

“Captain!”someone called from the crow’s nest, interrupting Pidge. “There’s a small shipahead, on the port side!”

Pidgepinched her eyes shut, counting her blessings when Sendak withdrew the pistolfrom her head and stomped away to confer with some other crew members. Shecracked her eyes open and exhaled in relief when the two pirates holding Lanceand Hunk hostage also lowered their guns.

Hermind raced, searching out their options. Maybe, if Sendak decided to engage thesighted ship, she and her friends could steal a lifeboat in the ensuing chaos…

And then what?

Theyweren’t that far out to sea; it would only take them a few days rowing, andperhaps if they stole some rations on their way out—

“Men!”Captain Sendak called. “It’s an Altean vessel; we attack!”

Altean? Pidge gaped asthe pirates surrounding them raised their arms and cheered. Their attentiondiverted, they scrambled into whatever protocol they followed, but before shecould react, the ship turned suddenly, changing direction and pursuing theother ship.

Pidgefell, losing her balance and landing on her hands and knees. She looked up,watching as Lance and Hunk struggled to stay upright and move away from theedge.

Lancegasped as his foot slipped over, and Pidge uselessly stretched her arms out andyelled, “Lance!”

Alingering pirate grabbed Lance by the arm and tugged him to safety, away fromthe edge. Pidge crawled over to him as the pirate turned his attention to adoubled over and likely nauseous Hunk. “Are you all right?” she demanded,pushing the blindfold over his head.

Lancecaught her hands in his, iron chains clinking together unpleasantly, but a rushof warmth heated her face. “Better than I was,” he told her with a slightsmile. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening when they landed on Hunk,and shouted, “Hey, get away from him!”

Thepirate helping Hunk jumped, his head snapping around to stare at Lance. “Why?”he asked. “I’m helping him.” He held up a familiar ring of keys, and Hunkrubbed his wrists - his unchained wrists- and grimaced.

“Ah,sweet freedom,” he said. “Thank you, but…why?”

“Notime to explain,” said the pirate, who next approached Pidge. She reluctantly -and curse that - let go of Lance’shands, holding her wrists out to the pirate. He inserted the key into the cuff,and after turning them the shackles fell to the deck with a rattle.

Pidgesighed in relief, now unburdened by their weight, and stood. She could alreadyhear the sounds of battle on the other side of the ship, as pirates boardedtheir enemy.

Butnot hers.

“Thatship is our chance,” Pidge realized. She looked at the pirate assisting them,eyes flitting between him and Lance, now freed of his own shackles. “We need totake the map first though.”

“Istill don’t understand what’s so important about that map,” Lance said.

“Ialready have it,” the pirate admitted. He opened his coat, revealing the end ofa scroll nestled safely inside a pocket.

“Whoare you?” Pidge demanded.

“Andwhy should we trust you?” said Lance.

“Hedid just save our lives,” Hunk pointed out pragmatically.

“Keith,”said the pirate, “and I’m your way off this ship and towards that one, but we have to hurry.”

Pidge,resolve filling her, nodded. Despite the turn their situation now took, itwasn’t as bleak as it had seemed when she first saw Lance and Hunk poised atthe edge of a ship’s deck, shackled at the wrist and threatened with drowning.So though she didn’t know this Keith, she would trust him, and looking at Lanceand Hunk, they would too.

Lancelooked less than pleased about though.

“Followme,” said Keith, leading the way towards the hatch. “We’ll take a lifeboat andsneak—”

Theshot of a pistol interrupted him, and Pidge, startled, jumped backwards intoHunk. “What—”

Haxusemerged into view, pistol in hand and pointed at her. “You think you can getaway so easily, girl?” he demanded.

“Hey!”Keith said, pointing his own gun at Haxus.

Haxusshot towards him, wrestling it from his grip too easily, and threw it aside. “Ialways thought you might double cross us,” he told Keith. “I’m sorry to seethat I was right. Now you…” Hemarched towards Pidge, who stepped back, further towards the edge, bloodrushing past her ears.

“Pidge—!”

Pidgeleaned down, grabbing for a discarded pair of shackles. She shoved Lance awayfrom her as he attempted to shield her, hatred for Haxus making her blood runhot. She dodged an errant shot from him - his aim was unfocused, consumed byhis own anger - then darted around him. He turned, swiping at her with a knife,but Pidge kicked out at him with all her strength.

Herfoot connected with his knee, and he buckled, his balance lost as he leanedover the side. His hands flailed out, but before Pidge could dodge him hegrabbed her by the shirt.

Pidgegasped, the collar cutting into her skin, and suddenly she felt nothing beneathher, her hands only swiping at air. Haxus yelled on his way down, and Pidgebarely heard the splash for her own panicked heartbeat as she flailed, as iffrozen.

Astrong arm shot out, fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist, and Pidge’sfeet found purchase on the ship’s deck. She stumbled forward, directly intoLance, and clutched at him, trembling with the shock.

“You’refine,” he told her, voice low as he held her just as tightly. “We’re all fine.”

“Wewon’t be if we don’t hurry,” Keith said, interrupting them. He swiped somethingfrom the ground and tossed it, Lance reflexively catching it as it flew towardshim, and Pidge saw it was Haxus’ gun, dropped in their struggle.

Keithhad recovered his own gun and sprinted towards the hatch, the rest of themkeeping pace with him.

Theydescended into the ship, leaving the open deck and the fight behind - Pidgewondering how a small vessel could hold back militaristic pirates for so long -in favor of locating a lifeboat. They found one towards the bow, and Keithnodded at it.

Hunkand Pidge clambered in first while Keith and Lance cranked it down until thebottom touched the water, the pulley’s wheels creaking and the boat shaking ina breeze. Once the rope connecting the boat to the ship had slack, Lance jumpedin, landing hard enough to rock the boat, and Keith followed, nearly capsizingthem.

“Hey!”Hunk said as he took one of the oars. “Ease up on the rocking!”

“Sorry,”Keith muttered. He cut them free of the ship.

Lancetook the other oar, and Keith sat at the bow, directing them towards the smallvessel.

Itssails glittered an almost pristine white in the sun, even as it fought off thepirates, and when Pidge looked closer, inspecting its elegant, sleek design,she realized it could’ve escaped the pirate ship easily.

“Whydid they engage?” she asked.

“What?”Lance said without pausing in his rowing.

“Thatship could’ve evaded the pirates,” Pidge said, “but it engaged.”

Hunkfrowned at her, then glanced over his shoulder at Keith. “What’s going on,Keith?”

“Whatdo you know?” Pidge wondered.

Keithfrowned, tilting his head towards the approaching hull of the Altean ship. “Istole this map for the owner of that ship,” he said, tapping the side of hiscoat, “so I think Princess Allura would explain better than me.”

Pidgegaped at him, and when the lifeboat finally reached the hull of the other ship,something like realization set in, and she said, “I’m getting closer.”

“Gettingcloser to what?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Pidgesmiled widely as a line dropped from the deck of the ship and someone else -someone familiar - shouted a greetingdown to them. “I’m getting closer to my family.”

[robronsecretsanta]

Fanfic: the past is the past and it’s here to stay

(canon compliant until present, and then it’s all my doing. 10k. tw: discussions of memory loss.)

In which the year 2020 rolls around, and new technology allows Robert to enter his own memories and see his mum again.

Or- the one where Aaron has to save Robert from his dumbass ending up in a Black Mirror episode.

Written for @robronsecretsanta 2017, to the wonderful @iwillsendapostcard who makes this fandom a better place every day, and someone I’m so lucky to call a friend. I hope you have a wonderful day lovely xxxxxxx

It all started in the most inappropriate place. Something that ends up changing your life shouldn’t have started in a stuffy portacabin, with someone like Jimmy bringing it into existence.

“What do you fancy for tea, then?” Aaron said, sitting himself down on Robert’s desk and putting his hand on Robert’s thigh to alert him. “Could make one of them M&S Christmas thingys Liv picked up.”

“Yeah,” Robert said, smiling easily, the way that he always did these days, nearly three years of marriage making them good with each other, good for each other. “We could- oi, Jimmy, could you turn that down maybe? Not everyone’s as deaf as ya.” Jimmy’s recent foray into the world of video news on his iPhone had been personally occurring just to fuck over Robert’s life, he imagined. Especially since Jimmy apparently hadn’t heard of the existence of headphones.

“Oi,” Gerry opened the door to the portacabin, sticking his head in, cheeks red from the cold, pointing in the direction of Aaron. “Get back out here will ya? As big as me muscles are I don’t reckon I can lift this car all on me lonesome.” Aaron rolled his eyes and gave robert a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving. Robert felt warmth spread to his chest, the way he couldn’t ever stop it from doing these days, every time he saw how easily Aaron would show him affection even front of idiots like Jimmy King.

“Look at this though, seriously,” Jimmy bounded over to him, shoving his phone in his face. “Mind- oh hang on, gotta go back to the beginning-“

“Get that out of my face, Jimmy,” Robert said rolling his eyes, but before he could properly shove Jimmy off the video began, and Robert was staring at a well-dressed newswoman on the BBC, holding a microphone and standing in front of an incredibly and strikingly white building.

“The so-called MemoryTech has already been implemented in police stations in the capital, and is soon to be rolled out throughout the country. However it’s here, in Leeds, where the first private use is taking on experimental trials for private use. Dr Emily Park, a psychiatrist, had this to say.” The camera cut to a well-dressed woman, standing in front of a large, corporate-looking building.

“The way we saw it was that there was an easy and clear parallel to accessing memories for the purposes of eyewitness statements to helping our patients with grief. In a controlled environment, we have been able to allow adults who lost their parents while they were very young to access memories of them, to young widows and mothers- it isn’t a solution, but it has been shown to have very beneficial effects for allowing the patients to move on in a constructive way. Think about the ability to say the thing you never got to. This is that chance.”

“Of course, it’s worth noting the high price tag- nearly 30 thousand pounds for a 30 minute session- although of course the time manipulations could make it seem as if months are passing-“

“2020, year of the future, eh?” Jimmy grabbed the phone from where it had been in front of Robert’s face. “Not for me, getting involved with that tech stuff.”

“Well, of course, probably nothing you’d want to relive anyway, eh Jimmy?” Robert said, flicking through some papers.

“Some nights with Nicola,” Jimmy said, ambling back to his desk. “I wouldn’t mind havin a’ peek at those an all. Probably the same for you and your Aaron,”

Robert was preparing a witty response in his head, trying to decide which best avenue would be the most suited for reminding Jimmy that there was nothing he wanted less to hear about than Jimmy and Nicola’s disgusting and prolific sex life- when he was stopped by an incoming text message from Victoria.

‘Thinking of mum today- Diane found this photo of you and her. xxxx’

Attached was a photo of Robert from when he had probably been about 4. They were standing in front of an ice rink, Sarah holding him up with a huge smile on her face. A big red scarf wrapped around her neck that 4 year old Robert was grabbing with one of his hands. Robert felt the usual rush of warmth he did whenever he saw a photo of her, as he desperately tried to recall any memory of that day.

There wasn’t any.

He excused himself, typed in some search terms into his phone’s browser, before clicking the number and calling the company in Leeds.

—-

“I just don’t-“ Aaron rubbed his hands over his eyes, later that day. Robert had burst in, talking to him quickly as he threw his stuff together, about Sarah, and an institute, and a quick last minute cancellation appointment. “It’s a bit weird, y’know? I mean, how do they access the memories?”

“It’s just a small procedure, it’s like- a smart phone, but a small one, like a chip, right?” Robert said, taking his phone back from Aaron. “or smart technology, and then they surgically implant it and it’s able to travel to your head, and then it’s able to access the memories from there, and-“

“They can just fuck with your head, yeah,” Aaron said, folding his arms. Years of marriage had made them both realise when something was going to be A Fight, their stupid dedication to open and honest communication making their big fights much less frequent but still easy to demarcate. “Which you decided to tell me about an hour before you’re heading off to Leeds for it? And 30 grand for 30 minutes?”

“It’s not like we can’t afford it,” Robert got up and continued his haphazard search for his scarf, “Look, I- I would’ve told you earlier, okay, but I only found out about it this morning- well, you heard Jimmy same time I did- and I didn’t think they could fit me in for months because of the waiting times but there was a cancellation and-“

“On the kitchen table with your keys.”

“Cheers,” Robert moved over and picked it up and started shoving on his coat. Aaron felt himself get lost in it, the way he still did after all this time- the long black winter Burberry coat suiting him so well that it made Aaron’s heart ache to think that he was leaving, even for a few hours. The way he always did, these days. “I have to go to the bank first, I need to leave here soon if I’m gonna make it to Leeds with enough time, especially if there’s traffic-“

“Rob I just- hang on a minute,” and with one move Aaron’s hands were on Rob’s shoulders, stopping him from moving back towards the sitting room. “Can we just talk about this a little more, I mean, we don’t know anything about this stuff, really-“

“I know it’s a chance to see my mum again, Aaron,” Robert said, fixing his eyes on him. “Don’t you get that? If I don’t go today, it could be years. The waiting list is that long. Wouldn’t ya pay anything to see Jackson again-“

“Don’t mention him like that,” Aaron said, hurt coming to his face, and there it was- an absolute fight. “And, y’know what? No, I wouldn’t. Because some things are better left in the past, they aren’t worth-“

“If it’s the money, I can pull out from one of my old investments-“

“You know it’s not the money, I don’t care bout the money, I care about you and I’m worried about ya, we should talk about this-“

“It’s my mum,” Robert finally said raising his voice, something he hated doing. “Do you get that, Aaron? I don’t remember something that happened when we were young and soon I won’t remember anything- she’ll keep- she’ll keep fading, the one person who loved me unconditionally until you, the one person-“

“Robert, please can we just-“

“I have to go,” Robert threw his bag over his shoulder and walked towards the door of the Mill. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

—

“Mr Sugden?” Robert looked up to see a well-dressed woman in a cream coloured suit smiling at him and quickly stood up, putting his phone in his pocket. “My name is Dr Morgan Rodgers- call me Morgan- I’ll be taking you through the procedure.”

“Hiya,” he responded, shaking her hand.

“If you just follow me, please,” she motioned towards him to follow her through a long white, long corridor. After about a minute, he watched her enter in a key code and open two large doors bearing the warning DO NOT ENTER UNLESS ACCESS IS GRANTED.

“This is where you’ll be set up,” she said, and Robert took a moment to be truly and utterly shocked at what he was seeing- a spacious room with a gorgeous view of the countryside, a leather reclinable-looking practically identical to the one in Robert and Aaron’s own living room. The only thing abnormal was the presence of two, well-dressed men wearing suits, standing conspicuously over a third man, much younger and dressed casually. He was sitting in a chair surrounded by three large, sleek computer desktops and what appeared to be a heart rate monitor.

“You can have a seat over here,” Morgan pointed towards the leather chair. Robert obliged, eyeing the- tech guy? In front of him pointedly. “Oh, right. This is- Dr Murphy. He runs through the technology at first, to make sure it’s all sound.” She looked at all of them pointedly. “I think that’s enough, thanks,” she motioned until all three were filing out of the room. “Shall we begin?” She sat Robert down.

“We can just, do it here?”

“Modern medicine, eh?” She said with a smile. “No operating table. Try to lean back, be as relaxed as you can. This will only take a minute.” She unrolled his sleeve and pushed it up, beginning the process of hooking him up to an IV. Robert closed his eyes.

He awoke to a room that was completely empty. Calling it a ‘room’ seemed incorrect as well- vast, empty space, no walls, just a monitor in the centre. Robert was entirely himself- nothing hooked up to him- and was still wearing the blue patterned shirt and jacket that he had been wearing when he had been sedated. He fiddled with his wedding ring, feeling it ground him as a wave of anxiety threatened to pull him under.

“And we are… all set up,” Morgan said. “You have paid for one memory, which you can choose here-“ she pressed a few buttons and suddenly there were memories filling the void, silent videos running side by side. He saw flashes of his mum, Jack, Andy, Victoria- and then more recent ones. He felt himself focus in on one of Aaron smiling, smiling into a kiss with him on their wedding. “If you like more, you can always press this button,” she gestured to a bright yellow pound sign at the corner of the screen, “and top up. Just a signature, same rates of payment.”

“Do you- lead me through it?” Robert asked. Coming closer to stare more properly at the memories.

“No, we don’t feel that’s appropriate for privacy reasons,” Morgan said. “These are your memories. Now,” she smiled at him warmly. “Where would you like to begin?”

—

Robert’s phone went straight to voicemail.

It had been two hours, and Aaron had cooled off. He had timed how long it would take Robert to get to Leeds, be there for an hour and get home, and then factored in time for him to go have a drink and be upset, before starting to worry.

Robert didn’t switch off his phone.

—

He’d picked the ice skating, of course. Morgan had disappeared as soon as he had selected it, so it was just him- the whiteness of the void instantly changing to his childhood kitchen. He saw himself- 4 years old- sitting at the breakfast table with Sarah. He was talking to her about something, babbling in the way that little kids do, but in a way that Robert had never remembered doing.

And it was her, her alive, no sign of Jack, probably out early, and she was alive, and okay, and Robert felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Mum?” he said tepidly, looking for a reaction. “Mum?” He went closer to the table and began to get louder. “Mum, it’s Robert, look at me-” (’non-interference,’ he remembered the administrative assistant saying on the phone. ‘No way of talking to them. Just watching. Think of it as a baby monitor.”)

“No,” he said. “No, no no, I don’t want to do this, I can’t talk to her, I need to talk to her, please get me out, please-“

“Robert?” And a voice was suddenly behind him. Her voice.

The Sarah and Robert of the past still playing in front of him, her lifting Robert into her lap to read him a story. Who was behind him was her. Sarah.

“Mum,” and he ran and hugged her with everything he had.

“It’s okay,” she said, soothing him with a rub to his back. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

—

He managed to calm down after an hour, Sarah explaining to him that she was real, but she wasn’t- she was memories forming an image of her, talking like her without being back from the dead. A gift from Morgan, someone to help him through it. Robert had struggled at first, wanting to know everything about her life, being met with a gentle reminder that the MemoryTech was for him, not for her.

She’d managed to finally ply him, though, when the memory shifted to the rink and they had been able to watch the skating.  

Are you feeling alright, Robert?” Sarah asked, year old self be dragged around by a laughing Sarah.

“Just thinking, I suppose,” he was holding a hot chocolate, and could smell the hint of salted caramel that the barista from the local coffee shop had added into it- a fancy one, built for beleaguered parents aiming to take a break from their kids. “Thinkin’ that the rink will be closing soon. But- it’s my mind, right? I could have it where it doesn’t close, where mum and me get to skate all day again?”

“The rink closes because it’s a memory,” Sarah said gently. “And look-“ she pointed towards Robert and her counterpart, busily zipping up his coat. “It’s time for you to go home to supper.”

“Home to shouting and crying, more like,” he threw his empty cup in the nearby bin. “I’d rather just spend time with you, even though you’re- not you.” He’d not been able to stomach asking how it was true, how she could be there when she was also in memory, how this Sarah looked and sounded and acted like his mum but couldn’t be her, really- just recycled memories forming her exact persona. Robert hated that it still felt like more than he’d had in ages, that he strangely didn’t have a feeling it wasn’t enough.

“There are many more memories we can go to,” Sarah said, again kind, painfully kind. “But I’m afraid that’s time.” She waved a hand and soon it was just her and him back in a completely empty, white room next to what appeared to be a large desk- filled with touch screen buttons. “What’s lucky is that was only 30 minutes, outside,” she went over to the desk and began fiddling with it. “You can get home for supper. Unless, of course, you wanted to top up your time, and show me some more?”

“Aaron will be worried,” Robert said, looking at the flashing pound sign on the board.

“You’ve still not told me much about him,” Sarah said, walking away from the monitor. “I’m sorry I could never meet my son-in-law. I would give anything to see him now, to see how happy he makes you.” She began fiddling with the controls, until Robert was met with large visions the way he had earlier- but instead of him and Sarah, and Victoria, and Andy, they were all of him and Aaron. Their first wedding, their second wedding. Proposing to him by his bedside. Hugging him in the pub so many years ago. Slow dancing at Sam and Lydia’s wedding.

“Do you want to show me any of these?” Sarah said, pulling up the auto-topup options with its distinct cash register sound. Before he could really think Robert was pressing the button, signing, and then diving as fast as he could into the memory of proposing to Aaron by his bedside.

—

It was when he got the text that Aaron began to really worry. He went and saw Victoria and Diane.

“So you’ve not seen him either?” Aaron tried to quell the panic in his voice as he began twisting the sleeve of his jumper. All the way there he had clung on to the hope that Robert had contacted them, hoping that he had gone to stay with one of them, needing some space but being alright, being alive.

“Well, right, hang on, how long are you sayin’ he’s been missing for?” Victoria began to look alarmed, putting her basket of shopping down near the tills. “Have you had a fight or summat?”

“No, well- yeah, but that’s not the point, look, he went to do this weird memory thing, which he said was in Leeds, and then I got some texts from him, and- look,” he handed the phone to Victoria.

“I can’t make you understand this. I need some time to myself,” Victoria read out. “Second message- ‘you’d do anything to see your Jackson again.’”

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Diane asked, and Aaron hated it, hated the rising panic in her voice, hated that Robert had put it there, just like he’d done to him.

“Okay, so you’re saying- Robert’s gone to do some memory- thing- that allows him to see mum,” Victoria said slowly. “And he’s not come back, but he’s been textin’ you? So he’s okay. Look, you know how he gets.”

“He’s always been impulsive,” Diane added, adopting a defiantly measured tone. “And he loved her so much, pet. It’s probably just a lot to take in, he’s probably holed up in a hotel room somewhere, brooding.”

“It’s not him,” Aaron said. “I can tell. Someone’s got his phone.”  

“Aaron,” Victoria said meeting him with one of her warning tones of voice that Aaron had come accustomed to from his sister-in-law. “Look. I know you’re worried, and you’d rather him be home with you than out in some lab in Leeds, but he’s safe, right? He says so here. And I just saw him today! He’s only been gone what, a few hours?”

“It’s not him,” Aaron started again. “I know it isn’t, Vic.”

“Aaron, how would they know about this? You think he’s been, what, kidnapped?”

“I know you’re worried, Aaron love, and I don’t know anything about this but I know Robert, and Robert never got over Sarah, it’s understandable he needs some time,” Diane jumped in, placing a reassuring hand on Aaron’s arm.

“He’s impulsive, Aaron, It’s what he’s like,” Victoria said, handing him back his phone.

“Used to be what he’s like,” Aaron said after a pause. “Maybe you don’t see that- yeah, okay, he ran away, and he used to run at the first sign of danger, but he’d never do this, he wouldn’t just leave and send me somethin’ like this, he wouldn’t leave me like this,” and Aaron felt tears come in that he was unable to stop, fuck it- “I know him, and he wouldn’t. And the way he talks? The way he’s talked here? That’s not Robert. It’s tryin to be him, yeah, and it might be doin’ an alright job, but it’s not him. So someone’s bein’ him, and fine, it’s been a few hours, but it’s him.” He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “And I dunno where the fuck in Leeds he is, but I’m not spendin’ anymore time without him, so- whatever, you can come, you can’t come, but I’m bringin’ him home, so.” He turned and walked out but then felt two hands on each of his shoulders pulling him back.

“You’re not goin’ on a rescue mission without us,” Diane said with a small smile. “Even if Robert is just sittin’ and moping in a hotel room.”

“We take my van,” Victoria added. “Leave in an hour.”

“Why an hour?”

“Because if you’re gonna be breakin’ into a multimillion pound tech company, Aaron, we’re gonna need to get some of yer family with us, won’t we?”

—

“My son, married to a Dingle,” Sarah said, smiling at the memory- Aaron and Robert in the garage, exchanging vows. “I never thought that would happen.”

“He changed everything,” Robert said. “Aaron did. It was- complicated. I don’t want you to see the person I was,” he added. “During a lot of it. But we got there.”

“He seems wonderful,” Sarah said, looking towards Aaron, who was in the middle of saying his vows. “Kind.”

“He is,” Robert said. “He changed everything for me. Made-“ Robert shrugged. “I dunno, I guess- for awhile it didn’t seem like I couldn’t ever be happy, and then I was with him, and it made me feel like everythin’ made sense- I mean, you’ll see next-“ but before he could say it, they were back, in the white void, the void he had gotten too familiar with.”I really thought the wedding would be included in this one,” he said looking desperately towards the video clip of Aaron and him slow dancing at their wedding.

“I’d like to see more,” Sarah said. “Can you show me more?”

—

Cain, Moira and Belle in the end were the ones who joined, along with Vic and Diane.

He had to talk Cain out of bringing a variety of offensive and menacing weapons and limited him have a gun and a baseball bat only.

It was nice, in a way, to see his uncle willing to inflict grievous bodily harm for Robert.

(His wife willing to as well.)

They got to the warehouse, broke in easily, and saw a woman wandering around, monitoring what were hundreds of people in reclinable chairs, hooked up to IVs and computers.

“What the-“ the woman said, as they advanced upon her. Aaron broke into a run when it became clear who she was next to, who’s IV she was monitoring.

Robert’s.

She reached for her phone quickly, pressing an alarm button.

Cain and Moira reacted first, grabbing the woman and restraining her to the chair, Moira crushing the phone with her foot. Aaron ran to Robert.

“You, explain, now,” Moira glared menacingly down at the woman- Morgan- as she struggled under her restraints.

“You- you have this all wrong, y’know,” she said grappling. “I can’t control this.”

“You’re gonna get him out of that thing right now or I swear to god,” Victoria came over, and was inexplicably holding a stapler. “I swear to god, you’re going to bring my brother back, you absolute psycho-“

“He will come back, they always come back,” Morgan said, breathing quickly, fear coming over her at the sight of the gun trained on her. “I swear.”

“Oh yeah, all this lot here, back and happy with their families, huh, are they?” Cain pointed at the hundreds of men and women lying in their reclinable chairs around them.

“A couple hundred,” Morgan breathed tensely, “Out of hundreds of thousands that we have in this trial, all over the country, are still here. Most see their loved ones, remember something forgotten, and then decide to leave. And we let them go! What’s the point you’re trying to prove? And they will come back. But we can’t make them come back.”

“Right, you lot just gave them a way that they would never want to leave, is that right?” Diane jumped in, staring with utter menace in her eyes.

“And that’s not wrong, is it? For people to get stuck in their memories, paying thousands of pounds to stay here while you profit?” Belle jumped in. “I read about that.”

“If an old millionaire wants to stay stuck in the past before he ruined his life, we give them that opportunity,” Morgan said.

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re a hero of the people lady,” Belle said. “Look at them. Your rich investors are the ones profiting and that woman, do ya seriously think she’s got a load of cash?” She gestured towards a woman nearby. “How could she even pay?”

“Or what is it you’re doin’ to make it worth your while,” Cain said, approaching Morgan with the air of a newly released tiger. “I think that’s the question I want to know the answer to.”

“Cain,” Moira said warningly, from where she standing near Aaron, who was still looking at Robert’s face with an air of complete brokenness.

“He’s not waking up,” Aaron said, running his thumb in circles over Robert’s hand. “He’s- Robert’s not waking up.”

“So you’re gonna figure out a way to make him wake up,” Cain said menacingly.

“If you’d all stop threatening me and listen for a second, you’d understand that I can’t,” she said, glaring up at Cain. “Don’t you get it? It’s autonomous. I enter in the information, I set it up, I talk them through it, but then the cookie that’s in there is a simulation of me who runs everything. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“A simulation-“Aaron got up and walked towards her finally. “What’d ya mean by that?”

“It’s a chip out of my brain containing my consciousness,” Morgan said with a tone of annoyance that Aaron felt was frankly entitled. “A piece of it. And it runs all of them. Not just his, all of them. It’s so I don’t have to be in all the simulations at once, or spend what feels like years running some sad sack through his daughter’s wedding again and again-“

“Oh, it’s a bit rough for you is it?” Aaron’s voice got louder. “Well that’s great, cause you had no problem trapping my husband in there with you, gettin’ him to spend however much money, what, what do you just build a friendship, yeah? Make him feel all good and like he can trust you?”

A flicker of a micro expression hit Morgan’s face, as she attempted to cover it up. “No-“

“What is it you’re not telling me?” Aaron said. “I won’t ask you again,” he said looking over at Cain.

“It wouldn’t work if it was just me,” she finally said. “We can- change what we look like, in the memory space. He thinks-“ she sighed and then regarded him warily. “He thinks he’s with his mother.”

All hell broke loose.

Aaron heard shouting. It was all he could hear as he felt himself sink back. Moira, by far the calmest so far, had come over and slapped her across the face.The sounds of Diane and Victoria shouting drowned out the defences that he could hear Morgan trying to proclaim. He felt himself stumble back and his body moved, without thinking, to where Robert was. The need to be near him, the need to hold him tight and make it all feel better seemed primal in how quick and all-encompassing it was. He felt himself move Robert slightly to his right, muscle memory from nights of Robert star-fishing across their bed, and curled up next to him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, having no sense of self-consciousness despite how many people were in the room, even if they were currently too distracted to notice. “Rob, hey, it’s me.” He looked over his face, completely still. Aaron hated it. He spoke the final word like a prayer, as he figured out what he needed to do.

“I’m gonna get you out, okay?”

—

Sarah leaned back on the bar, where the remnants of the second wedding still remained- petals thrown over Robert and Aaron that had landed there, spilled champagne. “I can’t believe you fulfilled the Dingle welly tradition, twice,” she said with a laugh. And then, more sincerely- “Thank you for showing me that.”

Robert was also leaned on the bar, staring at the people milling about and heading home. He hoped Sarah wouldn’t ask where he and Aaron had gone off, or worse ask to see- he remembered the desperate kissing on their bed in the hotel, both of them taking off each other’s suits and discarding them and the feel of Aaron beneath him until they were both too tired to even think about going back to their own wedding. They’d only managed after napping, showing up in disheveled suits that left nothing to the imagination in terms of what they had been doing.

“I wish you’d been there,”

“Can I see this one?” Sarah asked, looking at him and fiddling with the buttons as the familiar white room began appearing behind them, the auto-top up screen appearing behind them. The memories appeared up and he saw what was nearly ready to autoplay, him and Aaron in the pub, saying goodbye. The day after their first wedding.”When was this?”

“It’s- painful,” he said finally. “I can- I can show you another,” he said, remembering the trip to Wales with Liv and Aaron, their first proper trip as a family. “I can show you something better.”

He pressed the button.

—

“You can’t go in there, Aaron,” Cain said staring at him with menace. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You can do it, can’t ya,” Aaron turned to Morgan with madness in his eyes. “You can use your- whatever technology, and put me in there.”

“Aaron,” Cain said warningly.

“We don’t-“ Morgan looked from Aaron to the others, seemingly choosing her words carefully. “I have no idea where they are. I told you. I don’t control this. The version of me that’s in there accesses the memories. When the patient wants to leave- which most of them do after a bit, the cookie version of me shuts down the programme and brings them back. And we-“ She looked towards the floor and then back to Aaron, “we move them here, we only move them here when they’ve been gone longer than a few hours. When it’s been a few months in the simulation.”

“This just gets better and better,” Aaron said closing his eyes.

“I could put you in there, but there’s no way to guarantee you’d find him,” Morgan said harshly. “You’d get stuck there yourself. These aren’t your memories. The system isn’t built for this. We’ve never done it before.”

“That sounds like a few good reasons to sit back and think about this, Aaron,” Moira said, coming over to him.

“He will come back,” Victoria added, placing a hand on Aaron’s arm. “I know he will. He wouldn’t leave ya, Aaron. He couldn’t.”

“They’re-“ and tears were in his eyes, because fuck it, “They put him in with your mum, Vic, but it’s not your mum,” Aaron used one of his sleeves to wipe his eyes. “It’s not your mum, and he’s alone, and I promised him I’d never let him be alone again.” Aaron didn’t care about how it sounded, the rising panic he felt in every part of his body outweighing any sense of self-consciousness over it, over bearing this much of himself and his relationship to half of their families. He took a deep breath, and then moving quickly so no one could react, crouched down beside Morgan and began untying her hands. “So you’re gonna- you’re gonna hook me up, or whatever, and put me in there and I’m bringin’ him home.”

Morgan began to stand up once her hands were untied which prompted Cain to hold the gun up. “Don’t you move a step,” he said, and looked at Aaron. “Mate, I can’t go back without ya. I’m not doin that to my sister.”

“Then don’t,” Aaron said by way of reply, and moved with Morgan towards the computer. “Look- keep the gun on her. Make sure she doesn’t do anythin’ weird. And make her fix it. Make her get us out.” He grabbed one of the empty lounge chairs nearby and pulled it so that it was next to Robert’s. “You all should know by now anyway I’m not takin’ no.”

Cain nodded swiftly. “Well, what’re you doin, then? Get over.”

“I would like to just once more say how idiotic this plan is,” Morgan said. “Just for the record.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve probably lost all rights to tell us how to do anything, though,” Aaron said, meeting her with a hardened gaze. “Just do your fuckin’ job.”

Morgan looked at him for a minute, and then to the gun trained on her, and began to type into her computer.

“I’m dismantling the firewalls on the control panel in the MemorySpace,” Morgan said. “And the… payment options.” She added quickly, looking furtively at her screen. “I could take you through it myself-“

“And let ya figure out some sort of escape route while in there, I imagine?” Moira walked over and stood next to Cain. “We’re doin’ this for Aaron and then you’re gonna figure out a way to get every single person in this room out of it.”

“Well, that’s impossible,” Morgan said. “But okay.” Cain reacted quickly to hold back Moira, who looked ready to jump on her. “I need one of you to help,” Morgan continued. “I’ll do the IV, but it needs to be synchronised.”

“Whatever you need,” Victoria volunteered, walking over, giving Aaron a small smile before taking Morgan’s place at the computer. Morgan went over to Aaron, reaching in the small wooden cupboard that was sat beside Robert’s lifeless frame, pulling out separate syringe. He watched her sterilise it rudimentarily before she was running an antibacterial wipe over his right forearm, injecting him with something, and explaining something to Victoria. The last thing he noticed was the IV fluids connecting him to Robert.

—

Aaron woke up in a void.

He walked over to what appeared to be a desk with a control panel. He touched his hand to the screen and watched it brightly come to life, the words “Robert Sugden- A1948EG” in a bright white typeface at the bottom of the screen. Aaron saw flashes of memories to choose from, and couldn’t help himself from smiling fondly to see himself present so vividly- both of their weddings, their first kiss, robert sliding the ring on his finger in a hospital bed. Then Sarah- her holding him up in the air. Sarah holding all three kids in her lap. Sarah making tea and biscuits.

“Where are ya,” Aaron felt overwhelmed and then picked the one Robert had mentioned, Sarah and Robert ice skating, from the look of it, and saw the room quickly change into a festive winter scene, an ice rink in walking distance away. He began to call Robert’s name.

—

It all started to go wrong like this.

Robert was picking a new memory, Sarah smiling fondly next to him as he debated between an old Christmas with all the Sugdens and a newer Christmas with Aaron when, before he could decide, the screen disappeared and all Robert saw was greenery.

“What-“ Robert began to walk, Sarah closely behind him, to try to find out where they were. “I didn’t pick this one,” he said frowning, “Does that happen?”

“It’s probably just a glitch, love,” and Robert noticed the way the word didn’t seem to fit when said by her. Glitch. A universe where his mum grew old, lived long enough for words like that to become part of her vocabulary. “Shall we go and find out what this is?”

“I didn’t pay this much money for a memory I don’t know about,” Robert said, a flash of irritation present in his voice. Then, off Sarah’s slightly hurt expression, “I mean- I’m sorry, mum, I didn’t-“

Sarah smiled back at him. “Always quick to get upset, you. Should we just have a look? I can figure out a way to get us back afterwards and reset the system so you aren’t charged.”

“Right, okay,” Robert said, and began to walk. After about five minutes, they reached the undeniable sight of Robert’s car, the lodge, and-

“Oh, no,” Robert said, realisation dawning on him. “No, I know what this is, I don’t-“

“That’s murder.”

“Don’t call it that.”

“Are you feeling stressed out, Robert?” Sarah said, fixing him with a look of concern. “We have to go inside, you know how this works.”

“This isn’t what I want to see,” Robert felt panic rise up in his voice. “Mum, you have to-“

“I’m not going to be able to get us out until it resets after the memory is over, Robert, you know that,” she said again, gently, far too gently. “And we have to go inside.”

Robert numbly felt himself walk into the front door, into the room. He gripped Sarah’s hand.

A glass shattered, and Robert saw himself unravel two bathrobes and use the ties to tie Aaron’s legs and hands, a gag around his mouth.

“Robert,” Sarah whispered in shock, as they continued to watch it unfold.

“It wasn’t-“ and then he stopped, wanting it to end, knowing he was powerless against it. “I’m so sorry, mum, I never wanted you to have to see-” Him driving away. Him coming back. Pointing a gun. “I meant it, I love you.” Paddy shot. Aaron’s face. Aaron. Aaron. Aaron-

The white room came back, and Robert got up from where he had been crouched down, hands over his eyes, knees attempting to block out his ears.

“I need to go home,” he said, standing up. “I need Aaron. I need to see Aaron. I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared and I need to see Aaron-“

“One second,” Sarah was fiddling with the control panel. “There seems to be some sort of issue, love, just one second-“

“Issue,” he repeated, “what sort of issue,”

“It’s not letting me choose the memories, anymore,” she said, reluctantly turning towards him. “It’s shuffled them.”

“Well, I don’t- I don’t care about that, I just want to leave, who cares if they’re shuffled,” he said.

“It’s not letting us exit out,” Sarah said. “I don’t know- love, I’m so sorry, I think it’s timelocked, too many others are in the queue, we can’t get everyone offline at once because there needs to be someone on the outside to turn off the programme-“

“Right, but-“ he looked at her desperately. “Mum, you’ve gotta fix this,”

“It’s autoplaying,” she said with horror. “I’m sorry-“

His father. A farmhand, a desperate kiss. Violence.

Katie. Through the floorboards.

Aaron. Lying in a hospital bed with wounds in his arm. The nurse saying septicaemia.

Aaron drowning.

Kissing Rebecca.

Six weeks in Mauritius, guilt consuming his every being.

Aaron smashing the photo.

—

Aaron felt himself slide down sitting on the floor into the void near the control panel. He fought the urge to cry. He hadn’t spoken to another human being in what had felt like a week. He knew what solitary confinement looked like, knew it was always the easiest way to break someone down. Deprive someone of human contact long enough they’ll agree to anything, say anything to make it stop. But the raw all encompassing grief that fulfilled every millimetre of his body, the gnawing sensation that this was all wrong, the feeling of illness that was spreading through him- Aaron could identify that as nothing other than the complete and utter separation from his husband.

He’d tried everything, feeling horrific guilt at seeing something so personal of his husband’s, something not purposefully shared with him because of trust or desire but because of necessity, because of dark things like ‘kidnapping’ and ‘trauma.’

He’d tried everything, every positive memory he could see featuring Sarah. Ice skating, a day at the park, a trip to Leeds to see a film. Then a few of him and Liv- both of their weddings, both proposals.

“Robert,” he finally said, not knowing what he was saying or why he was. “I love ya. Please- please don’t leave me alone.” He twisted his wedding ring and tears came to his eyes, not sure of how he was going to take another week, month, year of memories to try to find Robert, but knowing that he would still do it, that he had nothing left, nothing without Robert, and then-

He got an idea.

—

“I thought it was only girls that cut themselves-“ “Mum,” Robert looked desperately towards Sarah, “Mum you- you don’t need to see this.” They were standing in the scrapyard, staring at Robert’s younger self spew hatred towards the love of his life.

How it was worse than Katie dying, how it felt worse, Robert wasn’t sure.

“I’m not here to judge you,” Sarah said, face placid. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Maybe the next one will be better.” Robert fiddled with his wedding ring. “I hurt him.” “I know.” “I try not to think about things like that.” “You can’t control that here, love.” “I need to see him,” Robert said. “I need to-“ “You can’t interfere with the memory, Robert,” Sarah said for what must have been the thousandth time during the past few days, hitting a fever pitch when Robert had to watch Aaron taking off his ring and handing it to him, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. “I don’t care, I don’t care, I can’t-“ and he was going over to them now, the versions of himself and Aaron, Aaron pushing him up against a car, telling him that he would never speak to him like that again. “Aaron,” Robert said, his dream counterpart leaving him alone in tears. “Aaron, please, I love you, I’m so sorry, I love you, please,” but Aaron moved, the Aaron of his memory, a broken man who was strong enough to still not have Robert’s words break him- “It’s going to cut off, you can’t see this, you don’t remember this, this isn’t your memory-“ Robert ignored Sarah’s words and threw his arms around the Aaron of his memory, triggering nothing but static-y shock and then Aaron was gone, and Robert was in his bedroom, but- “Robert,” a voice behind him. Aaron’s voice. His Aaron. “Aaron?” He said tentatively, staring at the man who had appeared aside from Sarah. “You can-“ he noticed the wedding ring, the clothes, the shirt that Aaron had been wearing that day, when they’d had a fight. Then before he could observe anything else Aaron’s entire body was on his, hugging the life out of him. “I’m so sorry,” Robert said, all of his words plying on a loop in his head from the fight, their fight, and then the ones from the scrapyard, still echoing from a few moments before. “I’m so sorry.” He clung onto the back of Aaron’s hoodie then, hooking his fingers underneath the hem to ground himself.

“Hey,” Aaron said, soft as ever. “Hey, you don’t have anythin’ to be sorry for. That’s why I’m here. But Rob, we-“ he reluctantly unhooked himself from the hug and kept holding onto the sides of Robert’s face, hoping that somehow it would anchor him, that they wouldn’t be stripped apart if he just held on- “I need to tell you something,” he looked to Sarah then, who had been standing with a look of growing horror on her face. “About her.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, crossing to him quickly. “How are you here?”

“Oh, see, ya messed that up, if ya want to play the role of the doting mother ya might want to actually, yknow, seem happy to meet your son-in-law,” Aaron said with venom in his voice.

“Aaron, love, this is dangerous,” Sarah said, taking a step. “I’m sorry. I’ve seen so much of you today it’s hard to remember I don’t actually know you. See, there’s been a problem, with a glitch in the system, and now that you’re here, I’m worried that’s evidence of another glitch-“

“She’s not your mum, Rob,” he said. “She’s Morgan. Doctor Morgan Rodgers. She’s the woman who put you under, but like- a cookie version, or whatever, that she has take you through all these memories, it’s her- it’s her consciousness, right, and she can look like your mum but she’s not your mum-“

“No,” Robert said, moving back so Aaron’s hands fell from his face. “No, Aaron, you don’t-“ he took a breath. “I know what you’re thinking, okay, and I know it isn’t her. It’s my memories of her, of the last time I saw her, and made through the computer programme to simulate how she would act and talk around me.  And the- they told me that the emotions she had for me, the things she felt, would show up, so it was like it was her, the closest it could get, it’s not actually her, no, but it has all of her memories, and it’s-“

“How could they do that?” Aaron walked back closer to him, trying to not be wounded as Robert seemed to look wary about being touched by him. “Rob, think about it, just for a second, yeah? How could they only show you memories in the past but alter this one thing, this only person? Why not your dad? Or Katie? Or-“

“Aaron,” Sarah said sternly. “You can see you’re upsetting him, and this isn’t the time. We’re both frightened by what’s happened, the best way for us to move forward is to keep trying-“

“She’s a bot, Rob, her entire purpose is to keep ya here, forever if she can, because people like you and hundreds of others they’ve done this to fund this entire goddamn thing, they get access to everything, they distract ya, you willingly hand it over and if ya don’t you’re just-“ he met Robert with a pained expression. “That’s all she is. She’s programmed. The real her gave her one purpose and that’s all she is, and she’s stuck here forever if she doesn’t fulfil it.”

“No,” Robert said. “Aaron, no, you don’t understand, it’s been months, I would’ve realised-“

“No ya wouldn’t have, not after what they’ve done!” He felt tears come into his eyes and he made a desperate grab for the lapels of Robert’s shirt. “Robert please-“

“Keep your hands off him,” Sarah said in a warning tone, advancing on them.

“I swore on my life that I would protect you,” Aaron said, moving his hands down to cup Robert’s. “I swore I wouldn’t leave ya. I swore I would never lie to ya. And I am telling you that this is the truth.”

Robert felt it before he could react. Firstly, within himself, the other shoe, looking in Aaron’s eyes and understanding. And then, back towards Sarah, a coldness overtaking the calm and pleasant demeanour that had always emanated from her.

“Love,” she said softly.

“Don’t-“ he moved back a pace. “Don’t come near me.” She continued advancing upon him. “Did they programme you for human decency?”

“I’m a real person,” Morgan said hotly, because suddenly she was back to being Morgan, the doctor from before. “I’m not a programme.”

“I spent months with you,” Robert said, and Aaron gripped his hand tightly. “I spent months feeling like I had my mum back, like I could say everything like I could show you Aaron, I shared Aaron with you, I shared everything!”

“This is very touching,” Morgan said. “Congratulations are in order, I suppose, for being the first to break in here, I’m sure you both will enjoy being stuck for eternity. Who knows when the programme will be switched off.”

“What do you mean by that?” Aaron asked, trying to calm Robert through rubbing circles on his hand with his thumb.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Morgan said. “Despite what you may think, I didn’t relish taking you through your worst memories. There’s something wrong, I can’t get us out. Someone out there will have to turn it off.”

“Well- Aaron looked to Robert, who met his eyes with a look of crushing defeat. “Well that-that’s fine, because they’re working on it, they’ve got to be close now, when I came in here they’d gotten you- I mean, you know, the real you- to try to- rewire the whole thing, and get him back, so-“

“And how long have you been here? Like, seriously Aaron, how long has it felt like? A day? A week?”

“A week, I- I guess, and I know they messed with the time- ways- so it’s less time out there-“

“You’ve been in here for maybe three minutes,” Morgan said. “He’s only been in here for a few hours.” She looked at Robert. “I don’t know why you’re looking surprised, you knew this. And you didn’t choose to leave when you could have left.”

“You think that’s his fault?” Aaron took a step towards her. “You pretended to be his mum! You used everythin’ you could to keep him here!”

“That’s what they told me to do, that’s all I can do, don’t you get it?” Morgan said, tears springing to her eyes, shocking Aaron and Robert. “I have all my thoughts and memories, but I’m a chip. My job is to take you through. I don’t get anything apart from this. I had my own life and now I have to do this and I’ve had to be alive for thousands of years doing this. I fought them, at first,” she said. Taking a deep breath. “Said I wouldn’t do it. Said I didn’t want to trap people. They left me in this room,” she finally waved her hand to allow them to stand in the white void again- “and let me experience a year’s worth of nothing. I’d have agreed to anything. I’m sorry,” she turned towards Robert. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“So what-“ and Robert finally spoke. “What do we do now?”

“Wait for them to switch it off,” Morgan said. “It’s all we can do.”

“Can you control the memories?” Robert said.

Morgan nodded. “Once I realised that the option to go back had disappeared I thought- I don’t know, trying to bring you to traumatic memories would jolt something in you- real you’s body, to wake you up. It just didn’t work.”

Robert looked at Aaron, giving him a small shake of the head. It was one of those things that they had built up over years of being together, the ability to read each other. Robert could tell Aaron’s anger was building like a tidal wave, an urge to protect him.

“Can you-“ Robert sighed, trying to think. “Can you send us somewhere nice? Alone? While we wait?”

As a surprise to both of them, there was no argument. No reasons why no technological malfunction explained, nothing to say. “Where to?”

—

They sat side by side on the boardwalk in Brighton, a tacky souvenir stand to their left and a man announcing a prize game on their right. They’d been there an hour, as their counterparts stood at the edge, Robert’s arm slung over Aaron’s shoulder haphazardly. It was only from six months earlier- a mate of Aaron’s getting married so othey’d taken the weekend and rented a house on a street filled with pastel-coloured houses- 3 stories, 4 bedrooms with a pride flag hanging in the back garden to greet them. Aaron remembered them dropping off their suits and bags at the house, preparing for an afternoon of sex before realising that the owners weren’t planning on leaving until the early afternoon. So they’d gone to the boardwalk, Robert only making a few comments about it being touristy before letting himself get fully immersed in the experience. They still had the photo booth photos on the mirror in their bathroom from it, them making stupid faces and Robert kissing Aaron’s cheek.

“We should go back here,” Robert said, staring over at the waves below him. “When we’re out again. I’d like to go back here.”

“Robert I’m so sorry,” Aaron said. “Look at me.” And Robert did, because they did this now, they had the difficult conversations that required eye contact and Feelings. “I should never have said that about your mum or let you come do this on your own.”

“Hey,” Robert said, in his softest voice. He leaned forward and kissed Aaron lightly. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I wish I hadn’t seen so many of your memories,” Aaron added, saying the thing that he had been dying to say since he’d first seen Robert again. “That’s not- that’s not fair on ya.”

“Aaron,” Robert started, trying to choose his words carefully. “I don’t care about that. There’s nothing I want to keep from ya.”

“You shouldn’t have had to- keep all that buried,” Aaron finally said quietly, staring at his feet. “Ya must’ve been lonely. All this time.”

“It wasn’t all bad. I got to see her again. Got to remember some nice things. You and me.” Robert laughed. “It’s funny, I paid thousands of pounds to see our wedding- to show her our wedding- because I wanted to see ya. I could’ve just left and seen ya. Might’ve been able to breathe if I’d done that.”

“Robert, you didn’t know,” Aaron said gently. “She lied to ya.”

“I should’ve been able to tell,” Robert said, voice getting choked up in the way that Aaron hated, that made him want to burn and destroy things until whatever was hurting his husband went away. “I should have seen it- and if I’m-“ he took a breath. “If I’m not able to see what’s her and what isn’t, I’m gonna forget her,” Robert finished.

Aaron leaned over and framed Robert’s face. “Hey, that’s not- that’s not what that means, Rob. You’re not ever gonna forget her. You got to- you got to see her again, here. You got to see her hold your hand and take ya to- to ice skate and see her birthday again,” he let his hands drop. “If anythin’ good came out of this, this bullshit she put ya through- you got to remember more than you ever would have. And hey, I’m with ya now. You’re not alone with these memories anymore. You’re not alone.”

“Even if we’re stuck here for a thousand years?” Robert said. “Still worth it?”

“A thousand years with you, I think that’d be alright,” Aaron said with a small smile. “C’mon, the wedding’s gonna start soon,” he added, gesturing towards their counterparts, who were heading home to change- only having sex once, in a mark of true restraint.

—

“I remember this song,” Robert said, gesturing to the DJ. A few hours had gone by, and Robert and Aaron- the ones from the memory, were slow dancing- drunk off champagne and each other, laughing and swaying from side-to-side. “Wanna dance?”

Aaron smiled and stood up. “Not as fancy as we were then,” he said, gesturing to his grey Henley. He looked serious for a moment. “Always.”

‘And nothing matters when we’re dancing..’

Aaron clutched at the back of Robert’s shoulders and felt Robert’s hands descend to his waist.

‘In tat or tatters you’re entrancing..’

Robert buried his head in Aaron’s neck, taking him in.

‘Be we in Paris or in Lansing-‘

Robert started to feel a jolt and felt himself fall backwards. An earthquake. Something wrong. Something very wrong.

Nothing matters when we’re-‘

The music went away. For a minute, pure white. And then before they could think of anything else they were hit with nothing but the sensation of being awake and alive and fell into each other’s arms.

—

(It was Victoria, in the end who had cracked. Apparently only after 2 minutes. A baseball bat to every single monitor. Completely calling Morgan’s bluff that this would strand Robert and Aaron for eternity.)

“I couldn’t just watch ya go under to save him and not do anything,” she had said to Aaron, while he fielded questions from the police, over Rob’s shoulder as she’d refused to stop hugging him for even a minute. “Particularly when she told us more about how it all worked. I had to save my brother. And knowing you two you’d just stay there forever staring into each other’s eyes or summat.”)

(It was Belle who fought at the inquiry, who spoke passionately about things that the rest of them were, as Cain said, ‘too stupid or old’ to understand. It was Belle who highlighted the other victims and called into question privatisation of Memory-based Technology.)

(It was Cain and Moira who hired the lawyers, prepared statements, dealt with the police and fed the entire family of misfits situated at Mill Cottage for weeks after.)

(It was Aaron who took care of Robert.)

(It was Robert who took care of Aaron.)

—

Robert woke up to turning 34 with a smile on his face.

It wasn’t just the sex, though that played a part. It wasn’t the breakfast in bed that Aaron served him after, or the walk they went on by the bridge. It wasn’t even the hours they spent just talking, truly talking, about how they were feeling, the way they had to check in these days.

It was the fact that when Robert said “I want to see her,” Aaron immediately grabbed his keys.

It was walking by her gravestone and laying a rose, hand held tightly in his husband’s hand.

It was lying in bed hours after, staring into Aaron’s eyes and watching shitty Netflix until the clock marked his birthday officially over.

“You know, you saved me,” Robert said. They hadn’t talked about it in ages, not feeling like they could- any reflection on the months spent under seemed too unreal, too disjointed and was typically a good way to ensure one of them spent hours sobbing. Usually Robert, Aaron stroking his back as he convulsed over their toilet.

“Hey,” Aaron replied, tightening himself closer around Robert, knowing that that was the way he liked to be spooned, really- the way that he felt like he could nearly crawl into Aarno’s skin. “We’ve talked about this. You saved ya. I had nothin’ to do with it.”

“You walked through memories for me,” Robert said, feeling overwhelmed. “Sometimes you just- ya love me so much, and I don’t understand how. But then I think about what I feel for ya, and I sort of get it.”

Aaron smiled at him warmly. “I guess it’s just- how it is, for us.”

“Weird,” Robert countered.

“Yeah,” Aaron said. “But I’d crawl through a thousand memories to drag you back to where you could be in my arms, so.”

Robert felt something draw over him, something that felt like it could slot into place the way it hadn’t ever before. “A thousand lifetimes,” he said.

They both ignored the enormity of it, feeling comfortable in everything that had been said, and drifted off.

[indigodice]

THREADS AND KNOTS

This is the first half of the last session. The length of this write up has grown enormously.

While Lila Yamamoto inspected the curtains, Danielle found her courage and whispered something to Veronica. Lila held her breath, one problem at a time, and signaled a secret message through the window with a hand across her neck, no, or maybe more accurately, eep. Unless eep was just her expression. But the signal with her hand definitely said, stop, or simply, no. Outside somewhat in the bushes, Poppy waved hello, Evan waved goodbye, Wesley waved to an empty window. Lila had closed the curtains.

Danielle had been in the hospital. The plans made before the strangeness were kept after it, though Lila didn't know if Danielle's addition was Veronica's doing, or her own.

"Whatcha' talking about?" Lila asked.

"Oh nothing," Danielle bristled, then looked to Veronica, "it's been a weird week."

"Spencer and his face?"

"Yeah, weird right? What even happened?" Veronica said, followed by a pause. Sweet silence as their minds wandered through the strange.

"Did you get like, a mark?" Lila asked.

"What do you mean?" Danielle asked.

Lila rolled up her sleeve, revealing the black crack in her skin. At first it looked as though there weren't enough light to see the wound, but the dark was the wound.

"Gross. Sorry. Nothing like that." Danielle said. Lila's fascination and curiosity became discomfort.

"You should get that checked out." Veronica said.

Lila unrolled her sleeve. "The doctor, they didn't say anything about it and let me go like it's just something - like I've never heard of anything like this before, it didn't make any sense. It doesn't make any sense." Then was a silence and a lot of sitting, in silence.

Danielle hummed, then asked. "Do you guys ever lose time?"

"Like track of it?" Lila asked.

"I don't know, like sometimes I'm here in one place and before I know it I'm - I'm just somewhere else with no idea what's just happened. The doctor said it's stress, but stress can't do that, can it?"

"Maybe you should see Granny Calhoun. Evan just took us to see her, she told us a lot."

"Granny Calhoun? You mean Evan's crazy grandma?" Veronica asked.

"Well, yes, but - "

" - Ugh." Danielle laid down and looked angrily at the ceiling. "Can we just, forget about it all for today? It's been a wild week, I just want to have a normal day. Can we do that? Just try and have one normal day?"

"Yeah, we can do that." Veronica laid out the movies. "What should we watch?"

Night sets in.

When the faceless arrived, Poppy locked the door. Evan and Wesley turned off their flashlights and the three sat down in the dark silence of a locked room. Moments later, the creature left on a bike wearing another's skin.

When the sun rises, Lila, Danielle, and Veronica have breakfast. They watch some TV together, quieter than the night before. Everyone was still waking up. The morning is uneventful, and later on, Danielle and Veronica leave together.

Later in the afternoon, the doorbell rings. Lila answers the door. "Hey Evan, what's up?" Poppy and Wesley are also there.

"Do you still have those blueprints? Wesley said you had them." Evan said.

"Why would you want to see those?" Lila asked, filling the conversation with a silence.

Poppy and Evan shuffle about for a while until Wesley opens his big mouth. "This guy," Wesley peeks into his breast pocket, finds nothing, then continues, "showed me something at the manor. So yesterday I tried to get everyone since Poppy had the key. But after we got there that thing was there. It was there doing something with the things that were there. And there's something wrong that this thing wants us to do to those things, but we don't know anything, so I'm hoping the thing you've got has a clue about the thing we need to - to do to those things," the sprite catches Wesley's eyes, hovering indolently, "guys, help me explain these - these things." Evan shrugs. "What did she say? Fix the spirit or break it? Why didn't we ask more questions?"

That first day at the manor Lila couldn't make sense of the blueprints. And when she'd brought them home, kept not being able to make sense of them, and after that frustration hadn't thought of them. There were other matters that needed attention, and if this couldn't be figured out, maybe it didn't matter. Lila had decided to simplify. Only later Spencer lost his face, and Granny Calhoun had been talking about face stealers. Lila pinched her nose in frustration. The blueprints were in the trash by the end of that day. Lila wanted to forget about the night in the dark manor. But Lila asked them to wait in the living room while she fished the blueprints out of the bin. She brushed them clean with a hand, then unrolled them on the table. Ignoring the problem wouldn't make it go away. Lets make this quick.

"Nakai was in prison for vandalism." Evan said.

Lila made a face. Confusion. Huh, it seemed to say. Or maybe an expression about handling blueprints that were just in the bin.

"Well, he didn't do it. You didn't steal his chair right? And I didn't attack the party." Evan said.

"The chair was made of Hartwood," Poppy said, "The faceless is stealing things made of Hartwood, the chair, the chest, Ms. Redding was there. She told us about Hartwood. Oh! The faceless stole some glass from the police station too, two-way-glass that they use for interrogations. There was this circular hole a police station window."

"Like a cartoon? Why glass? Why Hartwood? Why was Ms. Redding there? Are they -" asked Lila.

"- Yup, they are!" said Poppy, "Ms. Redding says Hartwood has occult properties. Burning it helps you see things. Spiritually."

"We thought the blueprints could tell us about how these things are used." said Wesley. "Break or fix, this has to be it, right?"

Granny Calhoun said the spirit needed to be fixed. Was this how? Tell me your secrets, spooky-mansion-blueprints. Lila's thoughts were met with nothing, just nonsense. She didn't recognize any of these contraptions, and with no starting point there was no-where to go next. Lila had a prior engagement today, too. I don't have time for this, I need to go see Ms. Clyde for the science faire.

"Ms. Clyde." Lila said. "I think I've seen something like this in Ms. Clyde's room." She almost regretted saying it, but realized she was curious after all.

Lila opted against taking her bike since it would be the only one. Her house was the closest to school, so the four walked a quiet walk in the afternoon through landscape they knew so well, though sometimes the blueprints rustled when the wind blew. The silence from a morning ride to school, or a daily walk seeped into these moments. Everyone was somewhere else.

Ms. Clyde's classroom was in the back overlooking the Multi-purpose building. Inside were three other small groups of people, each at different tables probably discussing their science faire projects.

Lila approached and greeted Ms. Clyde. "Hey!"

"Hi Lila. Have you decided on your project yet?"

Lila felt eyes and ears on her, a self conscious feeling. "I haven't, we might do something on blueprints. This one caught our eye but we haven't been able to make anything of it."

"This is quite old. Sometimes the conventions change, and some people are better at writing and drawing for teams than others. But this," Ms. Clyde points "I recognize this. This is a Mirascope, made of two parabolic mirrors. There's normally a light source here, but I suppose this kiln could cover that. I have a model over here, but it's probably much smaller than the one in this blueprint." It was on top of a shelf somewhere, next to a startling number of physics contraptions. Each contraption is bursting with a desire for motion, but they are frozen in time, unmoving. "Normally when a light is shined into a closed Mirascope, a hologram is created, here at the top, based on whatever is placed inside." Light and brightness "Well, this one doesn't work so well, but I think there's a working angle." She repositions Lila. The image of an acorn appears at the top of the contraption.

"Do you know anything about Hartwood?" Poppy asked.

Ms. Clyde was making everyone take turns at the proper angle to see the acorn. "I think Ms. Redding would know more. It's said Hartwood lets you see beyond, Ms. Redding is apparently very interested in those sorts of things." Ms. Clyde's eyes narrow in mock suspicion. "Why?"

"Just wondering." Poppy smiles. Poppy had hoped for more.

They thank the teacher and huddle up.

"So what did we learn?" Wesley asked.

"We need to burn Hartwood." Poppy said.

"And other things." Evan said. "We should bring some things to burn. Maybe the mansion. Maybe we could burn that."

"We could burn that," Wesley said, "but maybe as a last resort. We should probably burn smaller, more manageable things if we can help it."

"Like, a basketball?" Lila said.

"I'll bring a soccer ball." Evan said. I have too many soccer balls.

"We should come up with categories of things." Wesley said.

"Like what?" Evan asked. Wesley shrugs.

"I guess random stuff works, as long as we learn something." Wesley said. "We have time, probably. How much time do you think we have?" Evan checks his watch. "I mean, how much time do we think Spencer has?"

"We should meet tonight." Evan said. "Go home and collect things, and meet tonight. Once we figure this out, we should know what to do next." They disband and depart for home.

Wesley Wei found a note on the countertop. 'Work emergency, we won't be home tonight. See you tomorrow at the lake.' He wrote a reply. 'Going out tonight.' He went to bed and tried to come up with categories of objects to burn. He doesn't come up with anything. There's a book on his shelf that comes with a protective charm, worth testing. Somewhere downstairs there's a photo album with pictures of his family. He felt guilty about not being cursed with a mark, and suspected others have been cursed in his stead. He fell asleep wearing his coat. It feels safe. Like armor.

Later. "Wesley?" His mother is trying to be calm.

Wesley sits up, "Morning," he mutters. His eyes feel heavy.

"Wesley this is very important. Have you been to the abandoned mansion?" She notices his coat. "Are you going to the abandoned mansion?" She's holding the note. "What's this about? 'Going out tonight.'"

This feels like breakfast. Wesley blinks. Yes, she thinks.

"This is very important. We need you to stay here for today. It's very important that you stay here where you're safe. There's something happening, that's work related, and it'll all be over soon."

"Is this about Spencer losing his face? Or the others being marked?" Wesley probes for information.

His father crosses his arms, his mother winces. "What marks? Wesley, have you encountered - " His mother is checking his arms. "There's something called a faceless out there, that the people at work are very interested in. I need you to understand how dangerous this is, it's very important to us that you stay here. Do you understand?"

"Are they in danger? The others got these weird marks. I haven't because of - I figured out how to protect myself." Wesley is looking for the sprite. It is sulking in the background.

"What? How?"

Wesley changes the subject. "People at work, do you mean the military?"

"No - not the - I'm sorry Wesley, I can't - we have to go back to work. It's important that you stay here. Can you promise that you'll stay here?" Wesley nods. "I need you to say it."

"Are they going to help Spencer? Or - what'll happen to the people who are marked? What are they going to do?"

"All you need to know is that it'll all be over soon. Wesley, this is important. Can you stay here?"

There's a pause, Wesley in silence.

"Wesley? I - "

"I promise I'll stay here."

Wesley's father left the room first. He couldn't stand the silence, and was afraid he would say something he shouldn't. Wesley's mother joined him. They waited a moment out in the hall and whispered to each other in the dark. Then they left the house.

Wesley laid back down thinking about categories of items to burn. He was too tired to change his mind and too tired to think. He found rest and resolve. We probably have a day, less than a day, safely.

Poppy Smitherson-Smith had a plastic frog box, for frogs, somewhere upstairs in the closet. It refused to be found, maybe for the best, since Frog-catching was so long ago. But she continued her search, until she found her mom's eyes on her and it became very easy to need to hide. Poppy didn't know how to deal with these feelings. She began to leave.

" - Poppy wait. I heard about what happened at school. I'm - I'm sorry for not believing you. It's just that with everything - and it can be hard to believe, you get that, right?" Poppy didn't know what to say. "If you tell me the whole story, I'll listen. I'll just listen. Please?"

Poppy hugged her mom. Did it all begin at the mansion when four were chosen? Or did it begin earlier when she read Spencer's tarot? Or even earlier when she was given the book about Nero. Maybe it was when her siblings were telling her stories about the Manford Mansion, or when she decided she would find secrets with the moonstone. "We were supposed to find a crown in the Manford Mansion. It was just a game. But we found a secret door and a key, so we went inside to search. I had the moonstone with me, and I saw something I couldn't explain, a ghost? A spirit? It was so bright. It was the most magical thing that ever happened to me. But later it all turned. It was borrowing our faces to find things. But then somehow it took Spencer's face. We didn't lock the door when we left the mansion, we made a mistake."

"We could tell your father about this, maybe we can get something in the paper about it."

"Everyone knows it happened, but its not in the papers, its not in the news. They took Spencer and Liz away, but Spencer never came back. Mr. Nakai was in the news because the faceless stole some glass from the police station. But he's there for Vandalism, not because he's the faceless."

"Let's tell Dad. Do you still have the key? Why don't we show it to him and we can look into this together? He's good at this stuff." Poppy's mom extends an open hand and Poppy gives her the key. "Maybe we'd learn something. Maybe when this is all over he'd be able to write a book about it. We'll get this sorted out." Poppy's mom goes to find dad, to show him the key. A minute later and Poppy continued digging through the closet for the frog box. And a minute later there was a rumbling of a car in the driveway. Dad? Poppy found herself looking out a window. Mom and Dad. Coming home in the car with everyone.

Poppy looks down at the door from the banister. The door opened to siblings' laughter, and parents trying to distribute food. When Poppy's mother notices her, there is electricity "Hi," she raises a bag into the air, "we bought chicken." Electricity and worry in her words, masked by kindness.

"Save some for me. I have to go do something." Poppy felt awkward and sorry, masked by a smile.

"Alright, but hurry back, it'll cool down."

"Thanks mom." There's a tiny little crack on her mom's neck. Poppy got on her bike, and rode away.

[mirroredvalue-blog]

Jan 24th, 2017 (first draft)

Edmere’s eyes were locked on the window. Even as he drank, or when the barkeep asked him about a refill, he didn’t dare look away. His heel audibly bounced on the floor, the boot thumping with every impact, and his stool creaked under the movement. The sun had been high in the sky when he first arrived, now the moon was out and the stars peered through the clouds. How much longer would he have to wait?

When the last patron had left and closed the door behind them, the only sounds left were the roaring of the fire and the gusts of cold wind blowing through the cabin. The barkeep's footsteps would often move through the room as she cleaned the tables and tossed out empty bottles. She’d want Edmere to leave eventually, but if he wasn’t in that exact spot, then he’d never….

“Finally,” Edmere muttered under his breath as a figure came into view. Amongst the falling snowflakes was a masculine figure, wearing a tattered grey robe over a fur shirt and pants combo, a lit lantern in their left hand. The figure looked at the window, right at Edmere, and tossed the lantern into the snow, then walked into the alley between cabins. Edmere rose from his stool and quickly walked out of the bar, and into the alley.

The alley was dark, cabins rose high enough to block out moonlight. Edmere’s eyes adjusted as his boots crunched the snow, only enough to see the outline of cabins in his way and firepits dug into the ground. After several minutes of slowly walking, he saw the outline of two people; one was the robed, masculine figure that guided him through, and the other was a feminine figure with curvy hips and long braids. She held out her right hand, and a small flame appeared, showing a lantern in her grip. Her face was pale, her eyes a deep blue, and her outfit was a simple brown fur coat with a sleeved white shirt underneath. She smiled at Edmere.

“Do you have it?” the masculine figure next to her asked. A hood covered most of his face, but a long, dark beard with snowflakes in it covered his jaw, and his nose was dislocated on the left side. Either the clothes he was wearing underneath were bulky, or he was built with muscle, and his belt was adorned with a sword scabbard on his left side. His towering figure made Edmere think of knights he’d seen pass through the city, just without any armor.

“Do you have my silver?” Edmere asked in return. No matter how intimidating the man wanted to seem, Edmere had what they needed, and could easily back out of the deal if he recognized a problem. A simple scroll was easily burned.

“Indeed I do,” the man replied. “But I need to know that you’ve earned it.”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” Edmere slid the strap of his pack over his shoulder and dropped the fur backpack into the snow, then knelt down and opened it. At the very top was a yellowed piece of parchment, rolled up and sealed the the griffon sigil of the Qualfyo Empire. A small bloodstain touched the side of the scroll, but had faded in the weeks since its retrieval. Edmere pulled the scroll out and held it out, but when the man approached, he closed his pack and stood up, putting the scroll behind his back.

“Silver first,” he said. The man sighed.

“You’ll get your silver,” the woman spoke up and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Her eyes gazed on Edmere, and all he could see in them was an ocean. “But we need to make sure the terms were met. Is the scroll unopened, genuine, the works.” She reached her free hand outward and stepped toward Edmere.

Edmere reached his left hand to his back and twisted his fingers around the hilt of his dagger, and brought his right hand around with the scroll. He didn’t step forward, forcing the woman to get closer, until Edmere extended the scroll toward her. She didn’t touch it at first, just examined it, and Edmere twisted his hand to make the seal visible.

“See?” he said. “Unbroken. I don’t know what it says.”

The woman looked up at him and gave another warm smile, then took the scroll. She stepped back, behind the tall man, and broke the seal of the scroll, unrolled the paper, and spent a minute reading its contents. A cold gust blew through the alley, and Edmere’s fingers felt frozen, but he kept his left hand on his dagger and his eyes on the tall man.

“It looks good,” the woman said. Her voice had gone from soft and higher pitched to stern and low, and her warm gaze and smile had faded into a cold stare and tightened lips. The tall man looked to her, and she nodded, and Edmere turned and ran.

Snow crunched under his boots as he sprinted through the alley and retraced his steps. His footprints would make it difficult to lose a pursuer, so he ran for a few minutes until he was sure he had time to stop. He was in the southern district of town, the living quarters, where cabins were arranged in neat rows with little space left between them. Each row was elevated above the rest, each house staring down at the ones in front of them, and towering above all of them was the Saint Jeliho’s Cathedral. Most houses, even the Cathedral, had no light in their windows, and those that did just had a faint flickering and smoke rising from their chimneys.

Edmere squeezed his way behind one of the houses and brought his foot up to a log, and after securing it in place, he did the same for the other foot. He climbed the cabin until he was able to grasp the top, and he pulled his body up onto the roof, his fingers scraping against the rough surface. He rose to his feet and ran along the roof until he found a small gap, and hopped over it onto the next roof. He hopped and hopped, and when he had reached the end of the cabin row, he jumped from the roof and down into the snow, turning his body to the side in the air and slamming into the soft snow. The ground underneath still sent shocks of pain up his arm, hip, and leg, but he was able to jump to his feet and continue running through the snow. He sprinted up stairs, ran through rows of cabins, and up more stairs, eyeing the Cathedral as it came closer and closer to him.

The Cathedral was surrounded with stone walls, and a gap in the frontal wall led into a large courtyard, where pine trees grew out of small enclosures and flowers burst out of pots. The snow had been cleared out earlier in the day, and grass popped from the ground, but a fresh, white sheet had begun gathering up, glistening in the light. A long staircase rose from the end of the courtyard and up to a wooden door, but a chain went from one end of the door to the other, a padlock in the middle of it. A small path of brown mud and dirt ran from one end of the courtyard and around the Cathedral's exterior, which Edmere followed.

The graveyard behind the Cathedral was a circular collection of grey tombstones, some larger than others, but one tomb sat up against the back wall of the building. It’s steel gate was closed, and a padlock was wrapped around it, and Edmere took a small key from his belt and twisted it in the padlock’s center, causing it to fall to the ground with a thud. Edmere opened the gate the rest of the way and closed it as much as he could behind him, then knelt down and picked the padlock up, wrapped it around the gate, and used his key to lock it again. Inside the tomb was a small staircase leading down into the ground, which Edmere descended.

The tomb was a collection of wooden and stone coffins collected in shelves lining the edges of the single room. Torch sconces hung off the four pillars in the room, each still lit well into the night and illuminating the tomb. At the back end of the tomb was a large, stone coffin with a stone body protruding out of it, a body engraved with detail that made it look like a knight wearing armor, with a sword and shield held out in front of him. A bronze plate at the edge of the coffin indicated that a once-great knight was buried within. Edmere slid the plate off and pressed the button underneath, and the coffin began to scrape against the edges of the floor, pushing back and revealing another downward staircase. Edmere leaned forward and slid the bronze plate back onto the coffin, then descended the stairs, and pulled a lever at the bottom. The coffin slid back into it’s usual position, and Edmere opened the trapdoor on the floor and climbed the ladder down.

The sound of running water and a putrid, but familiar stench, surrounded Edmere was he walked down the hallway, to the door at the end. He twisted the knob and slid the door open, and entered the cistern beyond. The room beyond had a ceiling that stretched far into the air, and a large pond of water sat underneath it, at the center of the room. A ring of stone surrounded it, and beds and stalls and boxes adorned the stone. Few people walked among the ring, and none of them paid Edmere any mind. All of them wore similar clothes - tattered, dirty shirts, and pants that hugged tight to their legs, though a few of them had fur coats on.

Edmere slipped his hands into the pockets of his heavy fur coat and walked through the room, to the edge of the cistern, through a door, and down a hallway, until he was in another large room where the walls were adorned with wooden doors and ladders and staircases reaching up to each door. More people were in this room, and chatter filled the air. Edmere found the room marked “59” and walked up the rotted, creaky wooden staircase, and turned the knob and went inside.

A small room lay beyond, a bed on one end, leaning against the wall, and a desk with neatly arranged books sat next to it. Across from that bed was another, that one just a mattress without blankets, and the desk next to it was empty. On the other side of the room was a counter with baskets fruits and vegetables on the top, and a blooded butcher's board and cleaver lay in the middle. In the corner was a table with four chairs, with one chair occupied by a person wearing a thick black shirt and long, boot cut pants. Their black hair was ragged, cut crudely on the forehead with one side slightly longer than the other, and a single braid ran down the left side of their head, tucked behind an ear.

“And?” Tellia’s voice was deep for a woman, almost like a teenage boy’s. Her green eyes looked up from a book spread out on the table was Edmere sighed and slid out of his coat.

“I don’t think they had any intention of paying me from the beginning,” he replied. “I gave them the scroll, and they definitely moved to attack.”

“You sure?” Tallia stood up from her chair and closed her book. “No payment?”

“They didn’t give any silver, and they didn’t have anywhere to store it,” Edmere replied. “No packs, no satchels, and no silver in their hands. One of them was massive, and had a sword on his belt.”

“So, all that work, and we don’t get anything from it?” Tallis sighed and crossed her arms. “Fredricks gonna be pissed.”

“We’ll get our silver,” Edmere said. “Just stall Frederick for a few more days. But there’s no way I’m not getting paid.”