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swaps55 · 4 years ago

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This Hole You Left (Anderson)

Pairing: mShenko | Tags: Canonical Character Death, Grief

Post-Alchera.

This is a stand-alone scene from a larger work, but I’m very fond of it, so I’m posting it on its own.

Captain David Anderson stares out at the repair crews moving around the Presidium. Here, from the safe retreat of his office, it doesn’t look so bad. Scaffolding covers the damaged bridge. Debris still floats in the lake, turning the serene blue water a murky brown. The air circulators have almost cycled out the smell of soot and burnt alloy, but a trace of it still lingers. If he leans out far enough, the tip of the relay Shepard had barreled through using nothing but an M-35 Mako just four weeks ago is barely visible on his right periphery.

He doesn’t lean. Just as he doesn’t look at the datapad in his hand. Hearing the words come out of Joker’s mouth was enough. Seeing the helmsman’s face was enough. Anderson had remarked once to Shepard that he’d like to be there the day someone wiped the smartass off Joker’s face.

Shepard had snorted. Not me, sir, he’d said. If he gives up the smartass that probably means I’m fucked. I’d prefer my pilot remain an asshole at all times.

Shepard had been right, of course.

Anderson wipes a thumb across the corner of his eye. It’s all right. No one here to see.

They came back around for another pass, Joker had said, in a voice that was dull, dead, about as far a cry as you could get from the insubordinate ass who’d gone off on the stand in Vancouver just two weeks ago. Shepard had to be to blame for that display. Politics had never been his game.

We lost gravity right as he shoved me in the pod. Momentum from the blast…kicked him the wrong way. I didn’t see what happened after the door closed, but I didn’t need to. Drive core implosion doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Anderson’s fingers grip the datapad harder. No. It doesn’t. That doesn’t stop his mind from filling in the blanks anyway.

All Shepard’s training. All the hell he’d put himself through to earn that N7 designation. There couldn’t have been a person more prepared to live through the Normandy’s destruction. And in the end, the realities of space had still won.

At least it had probably been quick. Probably.

The door to his office hisses open. For a moment, Anderson expects it to be Shepard. It should be Shepard. That son of a bitch has been putting Anderson’s heart in his throat since he was fourteen years old, but he’s never had the audacity to actually die. Hell, the kid had taken a reaper to the face and shrugged it off.

Kid. Shepard hasn’t been a kid in a long time, maybe never really was to begin with. But to Anderson, some part of Shepard would always be that fourteen-year-old with the thousand-watt grin and a glimmer in his eye that usually meant Anderson’s heart was about to leap into his throat. The smile had faded over time, but not that damned glimmer. He’d last seen it right here on the Citadel, when he’d stood up from the table at Flux Casino with plans to steal the Normandy��right out from under the Council’s nose. And Anderson had helped him do it.

This can’t be how it ends. It can’t.

A voice speaks up behind him, crisp, formal. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

His expression tightens, but he smooths it out before he turns around. Lieutenant Alenko stands just inside the door to his office, shoulders straight, hands clasped behind his back, chin in the air. Anderson can’t shake the feeling there’s an empty space next to him.

Probably because he’s never seen Alenko without Shepard.

Kaidan Alenko. Damndest thing.

Who do you want on your marine detail? Anderson had asked, after informing Shepard he was being transferred off the Myeongnyang and onto the Normandy.

You’re asking me?

I’m naming you XO. If there’s someone you want, just say the word.

Alenko.

Anderson hadn’t had a chance to blink before the name was out of Shepard’s mouth. Not another N. Not someone from the special ops teams Shepard had run when Anderson could pry him out of Captain Oseguera’s hands. He wanted the biotic from the ‘Yang.

Hackett was the one who’d argued for assigning Alenko to Shepard’s detail five years ago, when the dust from Torfan had finally settled. Anderson had thought it would be a mistake. Alenko’s file showed he could keep up with Shepard, sure. But Alenko embodied the kind of idealism Shepard would chew up and spit out.

If we’re going to put his mind right to get back on the front lines, he needs an anchor, Hackett had replied, with that calm, ice cold demeanor that has won him nearly every argument he’s ever been involved in. Alenko will do the job.

The old man had been right. Shepard didn’t get close to people, and that was before Torfan. But he’d gotten close to Alenko. Hell, Alenko probably deserves most of the credit for bringing Shepard back from the brink. Because after Torfan, Shepard had indeed been on the brink.

Alenko might be the one on the brink, now. There’s a look in his eye that Anderson recognizes, and it isn’t a good one.

“Sit down.”

Alenko shifts his weight. Not the sitting kind, then. Not today. Anderson’s going to take a wild guess that Alenko hasn’t stopped moving since the Marrakesh picked him up.

He sighs and remains standing, giving the lieutenant silent permission to do the same. “I thought you’d like to know we’re working with the elcor to get a salvage team to Alchera. We’re hoping they find the Normandy’s black box data. Be nice to get some clues on what the hell happened out there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hm. Brick wall is not Alenko’s usual MO, but that’s sure as hell what he’s talking to right now.

“Joker finished his debrief an hour ago,” Anderson goes on. “I assume you’ve heard his version of what happened.”

More shifting. The uncomfortable kind. Shepard’s done it more than a few times in Anderson’s various offices over the years.

“I haven’t, sir.”

Anderson takes a good, long look at him. He’s spent fifteen years worrying about Shepard. It’s never occurred to him to worry about Alenko.

“I see.” He exhales through his nostrils. “The Normandy was attacked by an unknown vessel. Whoever they were, Joker says they came out of nowhere. Shepard got him into the escape pod, but the ship lost gravity. He…well.”

Alenko stares straight ahead, silent. Anderson looks for a tell, but he only knows Shepard’s.

Alenko isn’t Shepard.

If this conversation is going to be one sided, Anderson needs backup. He moves to his desk, fishes a bottle out of a drawer that’s already half empty after being new just yesterday, and pours two glasses. He pushes one of them across the desk. Doesn’t occur to him until after the fact he has no idea if Alenko drinks scotch. It’s just one of the things Anderson and Shepard always agreed on.

“Have it if you want it,” he says, not up for bullying the lieutenant into a drink. “This is off the record.” He swallows half of his in one go, then heads back for the balcony. A few moments later, Alenko joins him, hands empty, still avoiding his gaze. There’s a chip in the brickwork, though. Not much, but something in his eyes wavers.

Yeah. It might be time to worry about Alenko. Losing two ships in the span of four weeks would do a number on anyone.

Except he doesn’t think it’s about either the Myeongnyang or the Normandy.

Anderson leans on the railing, gazing out at the wreckage of the Presidium. He takes another sip from his glass. “I’m sorry. I know he meant a lot to you.”

It takes Alenko so long to answer Anderson thinks he isn’t going to. But then some of the starch fades from his shoulders.

“He did.”

Anderson side eyes him. Had it been Shepard standing next to him, he might press. He could get Shepard to open up if he was careful enough. Sometimes.

But this isn’t Anderson’s business. And his own grief certainly isn’t Alenko’s business. But while most of the galaxy is preparing to mourn Commander Shepard, the soldier standing next to him might be the only person he knows who’s grieving for Sam. He swirls the remaining liquid in his glass.

“He was the most reckless SOB I’ve ever met,” Anderson says, watching a hanar drift along one of the intact pathways below them. “I’m pretty sure half the shit he pulled over the years was just to piss me off.”

Alenko raises an eyebrow ever so slightly in surprise, but doesn’t turn his head. “He’s always at his best when the plan goes to hell.”

“Since he was a kid,” Anderson agrees, not missing the fact that Alenko had referred to him in the present tense. “First time I ever laid eyes on him he was four. He’d wandered away from Daniel on Arcturus and he called in the cavalry to look for him. You know where I found him?”

Alenko shakes his head.

“In a fountain, playing with a model ship. I asked him what the hell his spaceship was doing in the water. He said, ‘I’m about to find out.’”

Alenko’s mouth curves in a brittle smile. “I didn’t know you knew him that young.”

“I doubt he remembered,” Anderson says. “His father and I were good friends. I dropped in on occasion while he was growing up.”

Before Shepard was a soldier. Before he was the Butcher of Torfan or the Savior of the Citadel. Back when he was still Sam, all knees and elbows, so desperate to please he couldn’t sit still.

Anderson still misses that kid.

“He said you kept an eye on him when they shipped him to Ares Station.”

Anderson huffs. “Told you about that, did he.”

Alenko nods, resting his hands on the balcony railing.

Then Shepard had indeed trusted Alenko. Only a handful of people knew about Ares Station and Guthra Tulak. Shepard had been one of five kids sent to biotically train with the krogan, and the only one to realize any potential.

Leave it to the Alliance to come up with a program even riskier than BAaT. Leave it to Hannah Shepard to volunteer her own kid to be part of it. Anderson always wondered if Sam knew about Hannah’s role in Ares, and how hard Daniel fought to keep it from happening.

To Hannah, Sam was a legacy. To the Alliance, he’d been a tool with astronomical potential. Someone had needed to look out for the actual kid. Daniel had tried, but.

Losing Daniel still stings. What would he have thought about his Spectre son?

Hell, Anderson knows exactly what he’d have thought. He would have feared this day, this ending, with every breath he took. He’d wanted anything else for Sam. Anything but this.

And Anderson had helped him become everything Daniel was afraid of. Hell, what choice did he have? You couldn’t dissuade Sam from anything. Once he was target locked on something there was nothing you could do but get as many obstacles out of his way as possible and hope for the best. So that’s what Anderson had done. Mentored him, advocated for him, taken a few hits behind the scenes on his behalf and cleared the path as best he could. Maybe you couldn’t take the target out of Sam’s sights, but you could guide his aim to make sure he hit it dead to rights.

“He’s come a long way since then,” Anderson says, wincing when he realizes now it’s him who can’t let go of the present tense. “I wish I’d been at the inquest. From the secure feed it looked like he put an entire roomful of admirals on their asses. Would love to have seen it in person.”

Alenko stills, expression frozen in place like a mask. Whatever nerve Anderson just touched is a big one, so he steers the conversation in a new direction.

“Though what I really wish I could have seen is what he found to gripe about being stuck in atmosphere. The entire time he was in Rio for ICT, he never once complained about the work. Wouldn’t shut up about how much he hated humidity.”

The fragile smile returns. “He hated going down a well without a hardsuit.”

“Know what almost kept him from qualifying for N1?”

Alenko shakes his head.

“Bugs,” Anderson tells him. “Not twenty-hour days, not hostile terrain, not crawling around in the mud without food or sleep. It was the bugs that damn near washed him out.”

A laugh escapes the lieutenant. It’s a rusty sound. “That…doesn’t surprise me.”

Anderson smiles at the memory. “He got over it. Made it through, like he always did. Wish I’d told him more how…proud I was.”

“You meant a lot to him,” Alenko says, so quietly Anderson almost doesn’t hear him.

The lump that forms in Anderson’s throat takes him off guard. “He had a way of affecting everyone he ever met. I forget sometimes it could go the other way. He made it so easy to think he was fine on his own.”

“He wasn’t.”

Alenko’s stare remains fixed on the view from the balcony. Not many people saw the side of Shepard that needed anyone. Even Anderson only saw it on occasion. Alenko was so far from the kind of person Shepard would let his guard down in front of, but clearly he had.

If we’re going to put his mind right to get back on the front lines, he needs an anchor, Hackett had said. Alenko had done the job, all right.

Problem was, it looks like that had gone both ways.

Anderson draws in a breath. Might as well get this over with. “I called you here to ask if you would speak at the memorial.”

It’s going to be a spectacle, the likes of which Sam would have hated, but the Alliance sure as hell isn’t going to be denied their PR opportunity.

Alenko shifts his weight. He’s so damn still. Shepard would be pacing the room until Anderson wanted to strangle him.

“Is that an order, sir?”

“A request.”

“Then I respectfully decline.”

Anderson finishes his drink. “Can I ask why?”

Alenko’s grip on the railing tightens. “The Alliance cares about the symbol. I cared about the person. I can’t give them what they want.”

Anderson can’t help but wonder what the lieutenant would have to say. Shepard was so many different things to so many different people. What, exactly, was he to Kaidan Alenko?

Why Alenko? Anderson had asked Shepard back on Arcturus, the Normandy’s hull gleaming and new out the shutters.

Shepard had thought a long time before answering, like there was too much to say and not enough words to say it.

Because he grounds me.

The older Shepard had gotten, the rarer it was to get glimpses of Sam. Sometimes Anderson wondered if Sam still existed, or if he’d been swallowed up by the mantle everyone demanded he carry. But that answer had come from Sam.

“Ok,” Anderson tells Alenko. “I’ll hand it off to Hackett.”

“Why not you?” Alenko asks, looking in his direction for the first time.

Anderson gazes down at his empty glass. Twenty years ago he might have thrown it against the wall just to watch it shatter. Nowadays he thinks too hard about the mess it would make, and being the one who has to clean it up. “Because I cared about the person.”

Heavy silence settles between them.

“You should take some leave,” Anderson says. “You’ve more than earned it.”

“I’m fine,” Alenko replies, but that haunted look is back.

Soon enough you’re going to have to stop moving, son, Anderson thinks. After Torfan, Shepard had hit the same wall Alenko is cruising right towards. But Alenko isn’t Shepard, and he isn’t under his command anymore. All he can do is give him a hand if he asks for it, and from the looks of it he isn’t going to ask.

Not that it would matter. Anderson’s got no anchor to give him that could replace the one he lost.

“Just think about it. And get some sleep.” He gestures towards the door, freeing the lieutenant from further torture. While Alenko makes for the exit, Anderson heads for his desk and the untouched glass. No sense in letting it go to waste.

Alenko pauses at the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. “Rain.”

“I’m sorry?” Anderson asks with a frown.

“You wanted to know what he found to gripe about on Earth. It was the rain.” He looks away without waiting for a response and walks away.

That empty space Anderson thought he’d been imagining when Alenko walked in feels even larger, now. Yeah. Shepard sure knows how to leave a hole in people.

#mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #david anderson #trilogyappreciationweek #me legendary countdown #my fic

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jatphantomsimagines · 4 years ago

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Before Us (2) | Luke Patterson

Synopsis: In 1995, Sunset Curve was set to play The Orpheum. 25 years later they wake up in a whole new world and Luke finds somebody he once used to know.

Authors Note: I apologize ahead of time because this chapter is mainly filler, just gotta move the story along (and also show y’all Julie + Riley’s friendship)

PREVIOUS | NEXT

__/—–\__

All night long all Riley could think about was how quiet Julie had been at school after her crying session in the hallway. She was worried, so she decided upon waking up that she would head over to Julie’s house and walk with her to school.

She had made it quickly, her thoughts clouded with the music that flooded through her headphones. They were old recordings she had found of her mom’s music, having moved them to her computer and changing them to a playable format. It was comfortable for her to be able to hear her mom, being able to sing along with her. Every so often there would be a duet, a boy's voice chiming in and singing along.

Riley wasn’t sure who it was, not knowing much about her mom’s past besides what her dad had told her. This mystery man sang in Riley’s ears, her nerves calming and easing her anxieties about walking into Julie’s house unannounced.

Walking up to the house, she could hear something coming from the backyard and she removed one of her headphones. Riley made her way down the stairs to Julie’s garage, heading over to the doors she could hear the familiar sound of piano chords being played and Julie’s voice ringing out through the open air. She echoed, energy seeming to buzz around Riley causing the hair on her arms to stand up.

Tears came into her eyes and before she could stop herself she was running over and pushing the door open and looking Julie dead on. The girl continued singing, a smile lighting up her face and their gazes meeting. Julie finished singing and called the girl over, Riley joining the girl on the piano bench. The feeling was familiar, having been in this position so many times throughout their childhood.

As Julie was about to speak up, both their attentions were brought over to the door where Flynn was storming in.

“Carlos told me you’d be out here.” The two stared her down, waiting for her to continue. “The three of us need to talk.”

“Are you okay?” Julie asked, Riley motioning for the girl to come closer to the piano, genuine worry flitting across her face.

“No, I’m not okay Julie. You just got kicked out of music! I’ve been up all night thinking about what I was going to say. Might’ve drank seven sodas, but I need to get this out.”

Riley couldn’t help but giggle, piping up quietly. “I thought that was how you spent most nights.”

Flynn turned to look at the girl, rolling her eyes the same way Julie did when she was teased. Riley knew that the girls loved her antics, and even if they got annoyed sometimes they wouldn’t hesitate to be the first people to fight for her.

“Look Julie, you can’t give up music. And Riley agrees.” Riley shook her head, looking very serious as Flynn motioned to her. “Your music is like a gift so that would be a tragedy. So, you’re basically cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas.”

“May I add, I also love Christmas.” Julie couldn’t help but laugh at that comment, Flynn continuing on her rant without even batting an eyelash.

“When we were six we all promised to be in a band together. The Triple Threat.”

“I never agreed to that name.” Julie piped up.

“Yeah well Riley did and that’s two versus one, anyways! Jules, if you leave the music program the three of us will be apart forever. That’s just what happens.” She joined the other two on the bench and Riley reached around Julie so she could rub Flynn’s back lightly. She knew that the other girl was over exaggerating but her worries were still valid and Riley wanted to ease them.

“Sure we’ll see each other in the hall sometime, but we’ll have different lives, make new friends.”

“That’s not true. Can I please talk now?” Julie pleaded with the other girl and Flynn finally relented. “I just played the piano and sang again.”

A look of shook covered Flynn’s face and she laughed, looking between the two girls in disbelief. Riley nodded, still not quite believing it herself that her best friend was playing music again.

“What? Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Well she would've had you not barged in and let your seven soda’s kick in.” Riley pointed out.

“I’m so happy for you! And us!” She quickly grabbed Riley’s hand and squealed. “Look at you, looking all, I don’t know, alive again!”

“What made you play again?” Riley asked, bumping her shoulder gently about Julie’s. She was curious, wondering if Julie had managed to work through her grief during the night.

“I found this song my mom wrote me.” She paused showing the two girls the song on the piano. Riley read it over and felt her heart clench. The song was all about moving on and moving forward, exactly what Julie needed right now. She hugged the girl tightly, still holding Flynn’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I was so afraid to play it. Anything involving music reminds me of her. And then I woke up this morning, realizing that’s why I should play it. To keep her memory alive.” Flynn awed slightly and moved closer, wrapping herself around Julie’s other side and joining the group hug. Flynn gasped, pulling away quickly and speaking.

“We need to tell Mrs. Harrison you can play so you can stay in school and our lives won’t be the awful pictures I just painted for you.” Riley laughed, standing up and dragging both girls with her. They made their way out of the garage together, Julie stopping to close the door behind herself.

“Oh hey.” Julie speaking caused both Flynn and Riley to turn around and face the girl. Riley raised an eyebrow as Julie stared at the empty space next to her and Flynn coughed. She turned to look at the girls, realizing they were still there. “Let’s hustle.”

And with that Julie was ushering the two girls off and on their way to school. The three of them huddled together laughing and talking about how they were going to convince Mrs. Harrison to let Julie stay in the music program.

The easiest decision the three of them could come up with was to let Julie perform in front of her, hoping that Julie’s “killer voice and pure talent” would blow her away, Flynn’s words. Riley agreed, piping in that once Mrs. Harrison heard Julie again she would let her back into the program.

Time seemed to pass by quickly as the three of them talked and talked, laughing away at each other’s stupid okes and making silly quips here and there. The energy around the three of them was comfortable, a relaxing presence that brought all of them some peace.

“Do you think she’ll really let me back in?” Julie asked as the three girls walked up and into the school.

“She has too, you’re too good to let go.” Riley answered.

“Believe me, I think it’s wonderful that you sang again. I prayed for this moment for almost a year. But it’s too late.” Mrs. Harrison gave the girls an apologetic look and Riley felt her shoulders slump. There was no way it could end like this. She hadn’t even given Julie an actual chance to prove herself.

“But what if you just hear her play, you know she’s amazing.” Riley pleaded. Mrs. Harrison shook her head.

“It wouldn’t matter. A new student starts tomorrow. There’s only--”

“So many spots.” Julie finished, knowing the line by now. “And if I don’t participate, I’m out. I know.”

“I did everything I could to keep you here this year, but Principal Lessa was very clear that yesterday was your last chance. You’ll have to reapply next semester.” The bell rang as Mrs. Harrison finished explaining the situation to the girls and Riley couldn’t help but feel as if they had lost one of the most important battles of their lives.

They had worked so hard, she had seen the progress Julie had made, had even heard her sing alone that morning. The sound of Julie finally letting go of all the pent up emotions she had been harboring and pouring them out into the best version of themselves.

“I’m truly sorry.” She finished. Students began to file in for the next class and Riley led the girls out of the room, Flynn slinging her arm around Julie’s shoulders, trying to offer some comfort from the situation.

The girls looked between each other and Riley sighed, the familiar action of her hands sliding into her pockets offering her some minor comfort. The jacket she wore belonged to her mother, something she had seen her wearing many times in photos of her own youth, and while Julie played music to stay connected to her mother, Riley went through her things and wore her clothes.

“This sucks.” She kicked her toe into the ground, rubbing her shoe until a small sprout of pain surfaced. A frown stayed placed on her lips, Julie looking up at her and taking her hand in her own.

“It’s going to be okay, I’ll get in next semester.”

“But you’re playing music now! You should be allowed to have the tools and training that we do, who cares if you needed some time.” Riley groaned and gripped her hair in hands. Julie ran over quickly, recognizing the action as a stress habit the other had developed after being in the car accident that killed her mother.

“Riley, breathe.” Julie led the breaths, placing a hand on Riley’s diaphragm, just as her mother had done when the girl would have panic attacks at their home. After a few moments of breathing, Riley calmed down and the urge to pull at herself went away.

“Thank you, mi cielo.”

Before Us Tags:

@vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @dpaccione @ashleyleblancx

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms luke #luke julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson angst #luke patterson fluff #luke patterson fic #luke patterson fanfiction

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years ago

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distorted lullabies [chapter XV]

Word count: 5,674

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

Not the gif I wanted but I was too lazy to search for longer.

AO3 link

_______________

My ears rang with the grating sound of Judge Llewellyn’s voice projecting inside the courtroom. I glanced at my wristwatch. The session should have been over at 4.30pm but it was now past 5. Through the window closest to me, I could see that the sky had lost its orange clouds amidst light blue in favour of pinks and deep blues. Dracula would start calling me incessantly at any moment now, like he’d done yesterday.

Surreptitiously, I slid a hand on my trousers’ front pocket and grabbed my phone. I eased back on my seat to glimpse the screen from under the table. Jane Grisham’s client – my newest client as of yesterday, actually – huffed at my side but I ignored him; my problem was life or death, his was the possibility of ten years in prison which he well deserved.

No messages from Count Dracula so far, except the ones from last night. I scrolled up the texts. Odd. I dared bring the phone closer to check if my phone was on airplane mode to justify this but I could see three bars at the top indicating that I had signal.

“Are we boring you, Miss L/N?”

I scrambled into a proper posture as I clicked the phone off and hurriedly put it back in my pocket. My eyes met Judge Llewellyn’s up in his pulpit and I forced an innocent smile at his chiding stare.

“Apologies, my lord. Please proceed.”

The prosecutor, a scrawny old man, raised a contemptuous eyebrow at me before he continued scribbling on a notebook. Llewellyn was nearing the end of the session, going over court dates and times, which was indeed boring, and I knew he would email the details later to make sure nobody made any mistakes, so his speech wasn’t as important as he thought.

I rubbed the corners of my eyes as much as my make up would allow to try and clear the sensation that I had sand in my eyes from lack of sleep. I’d gotten only two hours of sleep – that is, if I combined all the moments I nodded off when shuffling through files, otherwise I wouldn’t say I’d slept at all. I had spent the night staring at the window until sunrise, listening to every minimal sound that could indicate that Count Dracula had found me hiding in Mallory’s guestroom. When Mallory finally woke up earlier that morning, I had already gotten ready for work, stuffed all my things back in my suitcase, made us breakfast and sat down with a cup of untouched tea to mull over what I was going to say to Dracula. By the time Mallory and I left for work, I was confident with my little speech but as the day stretched on and exhaustion settled over me, I doubted that I was capable of many coherent thoughts. Facing Count Dracula when my head was a jumble and I could scarcely keep my eyes open wasn’t ideal but I had no other choice. My ten days were beyond over.

Llewellyn briefly interrupted himself as the courtroom’s door opened with a creak. He regarded whoever had entered the courtroom before resuming. Clicking heels approaching me made me turn my head just in time to see Mallory taking a seat behind me with the audience, a stern look on her face.

Without turning away from the court, I leaned back to give her my ear.

“St Thomas Hospital called me just now, they’re letting Renfield out,” she whispered. My foot bumped into the table as if I had just been shocked by high voltage. My mouth opened and closed. None of what Mallory had just said made sense. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dracula vouched for him to leave, he’s one of Renfield’s emergency contacts, apparently. The nurse told me that Dracula called them to say that you will be picking up Renfield after release hours tonight because you’re caught up in court duty. Renfield gave the nurse my number so I could notify you. Y/N, how did Dracula know you’d be in court until late? Is he stalking you?”

My head started spinning from the moment Mallory said Dracula had vouched for Renfied, and I failed to process the rest of what she’d said.

Was he taunting me because the ten days were up? Was it a threat to Renfield’s life? A threat that he could hurt the people around me because I didn’t abide to his deadline?

“We’re adjourned,” Llewellyn declared, and I shot up from my seat at once, gathering my things as quickly as I could before striding out of the courtroom with Mallory at my side; my client forgotten.

“Y/N, is he stalking you?” she asked again when we were at the Royal Courts of Justice’s halls.

“I don’t know! Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“You can’t keep seeing him if he is.”

“I don’t really have a choice in that matter, Mal,” I scoffed. She grabbed my elbow to make me look at her. Noting her scowl, I continued, “He’s a client, I can’t deny seeing him if he requests.” It wasn’t a lie but wasn’t the proper explanation either.

“Don’t play stupid with me, you know what I meant. Y/N, if he’s dangerous–”

“He is. He is very dangerous but I can deal with him,” I said, forcing my voice to sound strong to make me believe it, too. I untangled myself from Mallory. “I’ve got to go pick up Renfield. Talk to you later, Mal.”

______________________________________________________

“Miss? We’re here,” said the cabbie.

By his tone I knew he had said it at least once before and I hadn’t heard him.

Renfield should be waiting for me inside St Thomas Hospital with his bags packed and a harmless, sane look in his eyes, at least I hoped. Count Dracula could be waiting in there, too, waiting for me to walk right into his arms. If I was smarter and less tired, I would give the cabbie Mallory’s address, but I couldn’t run forever.

I rubbed my forehead. Exhaustion made it harder to evaluate all the possible consequences if I walked out of the car and into the hospital.

“Can you wait for me here?” I finally said to the cabbie. “I’m picking up someone and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“No problem,” he said, glancing at the taximeter with a small smile in his mouth.

I considered my suitcase in the backseat and left, unconcerned. There wasn’t anything valuable in there to a cabbie, unless he had a secret propensity for crossdressing.

My legs guided me through the hospital as if I was on autopilot while I cast furtive glances at every corner. More than once my heart sank when I saw a tall silhouette at the end of a hallway until I realised it was too short or too skinny to be Count Dracula.

Breathing was a hard task when I neared the psych ward but it was too late to turn back. People passed me, watery eyes and runny noses as a little girl complained that her dad sounded funny and asked her mother why dad drooled all the time and wouldn’t blink. The mother looked at me and I focused ahead of me, pretending I hadn’t heard any of that.

Nurse Margaret greeted me with a warm smile when I stopped at the nurse’s station inside the psych ward.

“Wondered if you’d really come. Your fiancée said you were quite busy.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“My what?”

“Your fiancée,” she repeated, enunciating the word clearly like I’d missed it the first time. “He called earlier and said that Mr. Renfield will be getting his treatments from home now and that you’d come tonight to sign his release forms.”

“He’s not my fiancée.”

“Oh. I must’ve heard him wrong, then, but I’m sure he said the word bride…” her gaze was lost in thought for a moment.

“Where do I sign?” I asked with more than a touch of impatience.

Margaret frowned lightly at my rudeness but retrieved a thin stack of papers from below her desk. Using a pen, she pointed at several paragraphs while she repeated without reading, almost word for word, what was written. Because Renfield had been committed on account of violent behaviour he would have to attend psychotherapy sessions inside St Thomas Hospital and see a psychiatrist every fifteen days – Nurse Margaret informed me that the normal procedure was usually every week but Renfield’s doctor had seen fantastic improvement and decided that fifteen days was more adequate in his case until he was deemed mentally healthy. She showed me where to sign and reminded me at each turn of a page that Renfield would be under my responsibility since I was permitting his release. When I was done signing everything, Margaret left to get Renfield.

Minutes rolled by and I paced around the waiting room like I was a caged beast, peering around corners, breath hitching in my chest whenever I heard a man’s voice. Clicking high heels drew me out to the hallway and I exhaled in relief upon seeing Renfield striding next to Nurse Margaret and a male nurse carrying a box. He was dressed in the very same clothes he had been wearing the morning he attacked me but they were clean and looked a little bigger on his frame than they did before. His glasses slid down his nose as he walked. They were too big for his face but he never wore another pair, even when I gave him new ones on his birthday. I smiled as he pushed them back over the bridge of his nose. Stubborn man. He smiled back.

“Happy to leave?” I asked him.

“You’ve got no idea,” he replied, and surprised me by planting a kiss to my forehead. I froze for a second. He was usually awkward about physical contact with almost anyone. Therapy must have driven another man to crawl out of him. “You didn’t come visit me last week. How was the wedding?”

“Not great,” I said, staring into his eyes. They didn’t change, so I assumed he didn’t know what had happened. He could also be wearing his courtroom face which was just as good as mine, better even.

At that, Margaret said her goodbyes with a warm smile and told us that Roger, the slender nurse carrying a cardboard box, would accompany us down with Renfield’s books. I noticed Renfield analysing me as I fidgeted inside my shoes and forced myself to stop. Roger tried to make small talk on the way out but I couldn’t give him more than a few words.

The taxi was parked in the same exact spot as before. The cabbie nodded at me, blowing out smoke before throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it. My feet hurt as I hurried towards him and my worry subsided a little. I’d made it. Renfield was out and I hadn’t seen Count Dracula. It wasn’t a trap but I still didn’t understand his true intention by doing so.

The cabbie opened the door for me and I entered the car, relaxing in my seat to feel the coolness of the window against my forehead. Roger placed the box next to me so when Renfield took a seat, it laid between us.

“Why am I out?” Renfield asked in the short pause it took for the cabbie to close our door and round the car towards the driver’s seat.

I stared at him.

“If you don’t know, what makes you think I would?”

“You’re his brid–” Renfield cut the word short when the cabbie threw himself behind the wheel. He leaned forward and gave the cabbie his address. When he spoke to me again, his voice was low over the sound of the car’s engine. “From my experience, the Count isn’t particularly kind and I know he would never do this for me, especially after my little outburst. There must be a reason for this benevolence.”

“At the wedding he said that you could have some of his things shipped from Romania to London. Maybe he has need of them now.”

Renfield gave me a lopsided smile. It was usually the smile he reserved for cross examining witnesses. A venomous snake just before it struck.

“The wedding. Something happened there, didn’t it?” He inquired. I chose to look out of the window instead of facing him. “You won’t look at me, which means I’m right. Please tell me you were smart enough to listen to what I told you.”

Surrender with arms wide open or he’ll hurt you and those around you. Listen to me. He will.

I surrendered but not fast enough. Not fast enough to take back everything I had done.

“I really should have listened to you,” I confessed. “He did exactly what you said he would.”

“Even though he’s lived a long time, patience isn’t one of his virtues, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t lack of patience,” I muttered. “Actually, he’s been nothing if not patient with me. I went behind his back and it blew up in my face, and you don’t need to chastise me about it. I’ve got enough guilt as it is.”

“What did he do?”

A weird question from him. Finally, I met his eyes again and was surprised to find that I knew the man behind them.

“Mallory,” I said as a means of explanation. There wasn’t much we could say with the cabbie listening. “She’s okay, though.”

“So are you,” Renfield said as he extended a hand and brushed my hair away from my neck.

“For now. I owe him an explanation, which I was supposed to give it to him yesterday but work happened. I’m not sure how he’ll–” I regarded Renfield for the second time that night. “You’re worried about me?”

“Of course I am.” He frowned, seemingly offended that I had to ask. “I wear glasses but I’m not completely blind. You haven’t been sleeping,” he said as he tapped under his eye. Covering my dark circles with a decent amount of concealer obviously didn’t disguise it enough. “And you were fidgeting inside the hospital because you were afraid of encountering Count Dracula. Cowardice is a horrible look on you, Y/N.”

“You haven’t asked me what I did to Dracula.”

“It mustn’t have been good to drive him towards Mallory. And why should it matter what you did to him? It’s no excuse.”

“Oh, my god,” I murmured, staring at him in shock as I pieced it together. The kiss to the forehead, his concern, the completely sane look to his eyes...

“What? Did you think I’d defend him if he hurt you?”

“He released you,” I said. Renfield’s frown deepened as he looked from me to the hospital like I had just stated the obvious. “He released you from him,” I spoke quietly so the cabbie wouldn’t hear it but Renfield did. His face paled until it was stark white in the car’s low light.

“No…”

“Would you ever speak of him this way if he hadn’t?”

He shook his head.

Letting Renfield out of the hospital wasn’t a threat or a ploy to get me. It was a gift. However dim the possibility, my brain latched on to the idea that it wasn’t simply a gift, but an apology. Being merciful wasn’t at all like Dracula. It wouldn’t fix what he had done but it was something. If he had freed Renfield out of the goodness of his heart or if he had done it for ulterior motives, it didn’t really matter. I had begged for Renfield and offered myself up in exchange and Dracula had dismissed my attempts. Before, he had never cared how much that hurt me. And now this; an abrupt kindness to make up for his deeds.

“He wouldn’t– no,” Renfield grumbled. “Why– he, he can’t… he can’t do this to me. I’ll be alone.”

“You’ll have me,” I retorted.

“No, you’re his. I know you are. It’s in your eyes, and you want it, too. You’ll be like him and who will I be, hm?” His voice was thin but carried the weight of restrained emotion. “Nobody, I’ll be nobody. In a few years the both of you won’t even remember me.”

To my horror, twin tears streamed down his face.

Dracula had called him weak once, and suddenly I understood why he could see Renfield like that. Renfield himself had said that he didn't exist without Count Dracula but I’d deduced he had been made to believe that as a slave. His weeping told of an abandonment I couldn’t understand, and hoped never would. As much as I dreaded the idea, some people can only fathom existence if they have a leash around their neck to guide them. Sometimes the leash is religion or politics, and least often it is a centuries old vampire. It comforted Renfield, I supposed, this feeling of unquestionable certainty, and to have that teared away debased him.

Revulsion wrapped its claws around my ankles until it creeped up to my face in a scowl. It wasn’t Renfield’s fault that this world had made him like this and I shouldn’t blame him for wanting direction under a tight fist of a warlord, and yet I found that an ugly part of me despised him for it. Did that mean I shared something in common with Count Dracula? One of his defects?

“It’ll pass,” I told Renfield, looking out the window. “You’ll find your footing again soon. And no matter what you think or what happens, I’ll remember you.”

Despite his desolation, I was glad that he was back to himself. If it made me selfish, so be it. Although I wasn’t sure I was more pleased that Renfield was himself again or that Dracula had done it for me.

When we arrived at Renfield’s flat in Chelsea, he refused any help to carry his belongings out of the car, so he stumbled out with the cardboard box and his small suitcase. At my request, the cabbie waited until I was sure Renfield was safe inside his building and then I gave him my address.

I fished my phone from my purse and skimmed through my texts. Still none from Dracula. My fingers started typing before I could really think about what I was doing.

_____________________________________________________

Count Dracula knocked briefly on Lucy’s balcony door before opening it. She had been lying on her stomach, texting someone, but turned around to greet him with a kittenish grin. The bed’s covers were instantly thrown away with a swift movement to expose her legs.

“Finally! I thought you were giving up on me,” she exclaimed, rising on the bed to stand on her knees. He allowed her to pull him closer by his jacket’s lapels but when she neared his lips, he turned his face slightly to the side and she kissed only the corner of his mouth. “Nobody ignores my texts, you know.”

“Alas, I did”– he raised an eyebrow– “but you were begging for me and I had to come to put an end to it.”

That elicited another grin from her. A few days ago he would have found it charming, it was odd that it didn’t get a reaction out of him now. He hadn’t spent time with Lucy ever since before the wedding, so maybe that’s all he needed to warm up to her again – time.

“Tell me you’re taking me out tonight,” she goaded, pouting.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow morning?”

“Yes but–”

“Then no.” He pushed her back on the bed and she fell with a laugh. “I’d rather do this,” he murmured as he climbed on top of her.

She wriggled under him, doing her best to incite him as she rubbed her neck near his mouth, her hips twisting in need as her legs wrapped about his waist to brush up against him. He let her touch him, and he waited for desire to rise. She whined when he didn’t respond to her advances.

Nothing stirred in him. He rolled off of her, throwing an arm over his face. His arm was lifted not a second later and he glanced at Lucy as she wrapped it around herself to snuggle up to his chest. He patted her shoulder, gazing up at the star pattern stamped on Lucy’s ceiling. Releasing Renfield should appease Y/N, which is what he wanted, but so far there was no news from her. He couldn’t stay in his home pacing around as he waited for a call. And then Lucy’s text had arrived and he decided it was better to go distract himself. No use so far.

“Did you have fun on your trip?” She asked him softly.

“Up to a point.”

“Did you miss me?”

“No, not really,” he said. Lucy chuckled, as she always did whenever he was too serious. He wasn’t sure if she interpreted his seriousness as a joke or if she laughed it off because she didn’t know how to react.

“But you’re here,” she continued.

“It seems so, yes.”

He could tell that she wanted him to say that he had missed her but he wouldn’t lie. If she was hurt, then it was for the best.

Lucy quickly maneuvered herself so she could straddle him. His hands automatically went to her thighs as she settled in a comfortable position.

“Okay, so you didn’t come here to talk or to take me out.” Lowering her body over his, she popped a button on his shirt. Then another. “We can do other stuff, more interesting stuff…” Another button opened and she splayed her hands on his chest, stroking his skin. She moved her hips back and forth over his and his body stirred in response. Ah, so he wasn’t completely immune to her, it seemed. When she leaned in to kiss him, he let her. He breathed in her scent, and the charm was broken as swiftly as it had begun. It wasn’t the smell of honey he so longed for. “You’re being weird,” Lucy mumbled against his lips before pulling back to observe him.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to relax, concentrating on wiping Y/N’s scent from his brain. He covered Lucy’s hands with his own when he felt a tug on another button. Her fingers persisted but a light squeeze on them made her stop.

“How come?”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to fuck because god knows all you want to do is drink me but you’re barely touching me, and usually you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” She wiggled her hips. “You’re not even hard, and I’m really trying here, Drac.” He laughed at her pout. She had never looked so offended since he’d met her and he had said things to her that would make anyone’s blood curdle. “It’s not funny. I was right that time, wasn’t I? You really don’t want me anymore.”

He opened his mouth to answer her, then his phone vibrated in his pocket, and froze. Lucy narrowed her eyes at him and glanced at the lit screen shining through the fabric of his trousers. She plucked his phone out, swatting his hands away when he tried to take it from her, and pushed off of his lap. He gripped thin air when she scooted out of the bed. He clenched his jaw. Lucy’s bratty behaviour was something he had learnt to enjoy but he didn’t find anything fun about it now.

“Give it to me, Lucy,” he said, holding out a hand as he sat. She bit her lip and shook her head to the sides as the phone lit her face from beneath. “Fine, then. Read the message aloud, please.”

“ I’m heading home now if you want to talk. And thank you. ” She read, making a face. “Who’s Y/N?”

Dracula grinned. A thank you from her was enough to bring him contentment, more than Lucy’s playful nature ever would. That boy from the pub, Trent, was apparently correct in saying that doing something nice for her might draw her out. If Dracula knew the outcome would be so perfect, he would have spared him for that alone.

“My lawyer,” he said, his grin widening. “Give it back to me, Lucy.”

She placed the phone in his palm with an eye roll before sprawling on the bed again.

“Is she the reason why you’re leaving me?”

“How could I leave you if we weren’t together to begin with?”

“Ouch.”

“I swore I’d be sincere with you from the start, and I also told you this wouldn’t become a relationship. Save your ‘ouch’,” he told her, smirking.

Taking advantage that Lucy appeared momentarily distracted by his words, he opened his texts. Beneath Y/N’s text, there was an opened one from Chelsea. He deleted it without reading it. She’d given him her number yesterday and while he thought to discard it, he was glad he hadn’t. After all, it was useful so he could find out when Y/N would be leaving work and Chelsea, appealing to gain his attention, had kindly provided the information that Y/N would be busy with court until late. It gave him a small window to call the hospital until the message reached her that Renfield was being released. Cutting the servitude ties to Renfield was as simple as closing a door. It opened another so he could make his way back to Y/N.

A sniffle drew his attention up as he was typing. Lucy turned her face toward him from where she lied, batting wet eyelashes at him.

“Lucy… Crying over me?” He smiled. “Didn’t you tell me you couldn’t get your heart broken and that you would be the one doing the heart breaking?”

“I’m crying because I never thought someone would reject me.” She huffed, and he laughed again, earning him a light, playful smack on the shoulder. “It’s sort of absurd.”

“You’re irredeemably spoiled.”

“I know.” She wiped the tears before crawling into his lap and pushing his arms away so she could fit between them. His phone was cast somewhere among her pillows. Lucy’s curls bounced as she settled on top of him and he smoothed them, being careful not to accidentally pull one. The time he’d done that, Lucy had made his ears ring from complaining so much. “But you like me anyway?” He simply nodded. “Hm. Can I meet her?”

“What?” He asked, as if his hearing had failed for the first time in centuries.

“Can I meet Y/N?”

“Why?”

“I want to see what I’m up against.”

“It’s not a competition, Lucy–”

“Okay. But what if–” she gave him a malicious smile “–c’mon, imagine… If I like her too, then maybe the three of us–”

“Lucy–”

“No, hear me out. It’s actually brilliant, and it’d be fun. I’ve never done anything like it. And if you make her a vampire too–”

“Lucy, stop.” He shook her lightly, making her furrow her eyebrows. “It could be fun, yes. Terribly fun, actually,” he said as he considered the image Lucy’s suggestion conjured. “But it’s not happening. None of it.”

“None of it?” She repeated.

“None, dear,” he asserted. A smile struggled on the corners of his mouth. He had come to see Lucy for one reason but now he wondered his true motivation. Had he known what he was doing, subconsciously? “I won’t come to see you anymore.”

She gaped.

“You’re going to let me wither and die, aren’t you?” she accused.

He chuckled, tilting his head.

“I trust you’ll find some inventive way to kill yourself before you reach old age.”

“You are my inventive way! You promised me eternal life, that I’d pretty forever–”

“Lucy…” he grabbed her jaw to make her stop talking and she whined, although her eyes twinkled slightly at his bruteness. “I really don’t care. I’ve made my decision.”

Tears appeared on her eyes.

“Oh, please, stop with the crying,” he requested, cupping her cheek so a thumb could catch a fat tear before it spilled. He licked it, savouring the salt of her hurt. “I’ve had to deal with vast amounts of it lately and I don’t deserve your tears. They won’t get you anywhere with me.” He sighed. “I don’t want you anymore, Lucy, but it has nothing to do with you. I’ve simply found what I was looking for in someone else. And in her alone.” He smiled. “Y/N is my perfect fruit.”

“You don’t have to be mean,” she grumbled.

“You’ve never seen me being mean. I realise now that I said the same words to you once and I thought them to be true at the time but not anymore. I don’t regret our time together, Lucy, and I’ll enjoy remembering it years from now. This is goodbye.”

Delicately, he started pushing her out of his lap but she grappled on to him. If she continued being a brat he might have to pry her hands away. When he gazed into her eyes he glimpsed in them an unforeseen sobriety. He hadn’t thought she was capable of it.

“You won’t make me a vampire. I don’t want to grow old, and I won’t, so before you leave me, will you give me death? A sweet, tragic death that will make people wail at my funeral and say “oh poor Lucy, gone so soon”? Pretty, pretty please?”

“Vain until your last moments, aren’t you, Lucy?”

“Always,” she proclaimed with a proud tilt of her chin. “Give me at least that if you’re going to dump me. What’s there to live for anyway?”

Dark eyes studied her face as he inhaled her scent. There was no fear tainting his senses. Lucy never feared anything from him which was what had drawn him to her at first, yet it wasn’t powerful enough to hold his interest. She didn’t want more out of life except for death. In that sense, Y/N and Lucy were entirely opposites. One couldn’t live forever if life’s eternal paths didn’t interest them; at least Y/N searched for something worth living for.

“Are you serious?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded solemnly. “Death is not a caprice. You can’t take it back, Lucy. If this is your last hope that I’ll keep you, that I’ll suddenly change my mind at the last second, then you underestimate me.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said, widening her eyes at her own joke. Dracula’s expression didn’t change. “I am, Drac. And why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then do it,” she urged before brushing her hair away and exposing her neck to him.

Scars marked her neck and he bent forward instinctively, like it beckoned him closer. Lucy leaned in, her tiny chest heaving next to his, and he enveloped her in a tight embrace. Choosing to kill Lucy would leave only Y/N in his path, by doing it he would kill yet another bride, the one he was most certain would survive the metamorphosis. However glorious was that possibility there was nothing about Lucy that would make him want her as a companion.

“As a last courtesy…” he whispered, laying his lips on a vein. Her pulse accelerated and the vein jumped, coaxing him to take it cautiously between his teeth. “Lucy, my darkling… I’ll be your easeful Death.” He smiled at his own quotation but she didn’t seem to quite catch it. Y/N would have understood it. She stimulated everything in him, and managed to ignite parts of him that had been long forgotten. He hungered for her like he hungered for blood. What did Lucy do to him? Nothing, nothing, nothing.

His teeth cut through her and she slumped, melting into him. The taste of her blood was familiar and did not sing to him as it once did. He devoured her methodically. A flavorless drink, like an alcoholic’s bottle of choice. She didn’t move once, not even when death’s spasms should have seized her body.

Once she grew cold, utterly depleted of blood, he laid her on the bed, arranged the covers around her and fluffed the pillows. After considering it, he closed her eyes with the tips of his fingers and fixed the crown of curls about her head. Her dainty lips were slightly parted in her pout. A pretty picture for her mother to find – sweet and tragic, like Lucy had asked. He admired her for a moment and nodded in approval. It had been fun and if she wanted death, it was only right that he gave it to her.

Dracula’s shirt clung to the sides of his chest, dampened by the little blood that had escaped his mouth. He considered the dark swirls of hair on his chest muddled by red liquid; a shower was in order when he got home. His shirt made a muffled, wet sound as he buttoned it up.

His phone rested near Lucy’s shoulder. The screen was smeared with red but it was no trouble seeing through it as he opened Y/N’s message again.

It would be late at night until he made himself presentable to her, and she would be tired until then. Killing a bride in favour of another also occupied his mind more than he expected. Y/N had ensnared him, completely. He was used to it being the other way around. He had given her time and in that time he had done nothing but kill to cleanse himself from her. It hadn’t worked. Perhaps it was time he did some reflection of his own, before they met again.

Truce for now, we meet tomorrow. You’re welcome.

“She’s making me soft,” he muttered to himself. He eyed Lucy and rose an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you say so, dear?”

A/N: Writing this chapter was a struggle, especially the last scene. Once again, not the right mindset for it in my opinion. For those who aren't familiar with what Dracula quotes, it's from Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats. As a treat, I'll let you all know that they'll be reunited in the next chapter... and that's all I'll say about that.

@festering-queen @feralstare @rheabalaur @a-dorky-book-keeper @thorin-smokin-shield @dreamer2381 @deborahlazaroff @illbegoinhome @saint-hardy @girlonfireice @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @iwasjustablur @crossoverqueen89 @vampirescurse @blue-serendipity @sunscreenfeverdream @25ocurer @daydreaming136 @hello-itsbarbie @princessayveke

#I think I tagged everyone #if not let me know #dracula 2020 #dracula netflix #bbc dracula #dracula bbc #dracula fanfic #dracula fic #claes bang #claes bang fanfic #dracula x reader #distorted lullabies #vampire fanfic

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vhsrights · 4 years ago

Text

Just Another Night Of Hanging Out

Pairing: Morcia

Tags: fluff, a bit of pining, a soft spa and movie night in

Summary: Penelope and Morgan are just friends, the bestest of friends, which is why they have spa and movie nights. Hours spent close by each other's side, trying to hold in the love that is nearly bursting from their hearts. After all, it’s not like the other is in love with them...

WC: 3.4 k words

For the lovely @morcias because hayley loves morcia and inspired me to write this cute ass OS :)

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

“So are you going to tell him tonight?” JJ smirked and wiggled her eyebrows at Penelope, slowly raising her coffee mug to take a sip.

“Tell who what, sweets?” Penelope twirled the sparkly pen around in her hand, purposefully averting her eyes from her friend and planting them on her computer screen.

“Pen, we’ve been over this. Tell Derek. I mean, it’s obvious that you two were made for each other. Don’t even get me started on how he looks at you or talks about you. What’s taking you so long?” The blonde leaned back against the desk, watching Penelope aimlessly move around files on her desktop.

“Okay, ever since you and Prentiss have gotten together, you have gone all lovey-dovey on me. Derek Morgan is not in love with me. We’re just the best of friends, pals if you want, that have a spa and movie night planned tonight.” JJ rolled her eyes, ignoring her friend’s jab at her new relationship.

“Ew, please never call yourself and Derek ‘pals’. Also, you helped Emily and I get together so you have nothing to say there. Fine, I guess I won’t tell you what Derek told me about you on the jet ride home yesterday. Enjoy moving your files around.” With that, JJ turned to leave the woman’s office, a smirk wide on her face.

“Pump, your brakes. He said something about me? And you weren’t gonna tell me? Jayje, need I remind you that I have the powers of the boundless internet at my fingertips? Park yourself in this seat and spill.” Penelope swiveled around in her chair with enthusiasm, rapt by the information JJ had.

Gesturing to the chair that was against the wall, Garcia’s eyes followed her friend. She could feel the thrum of her heart speed up. Fidgeting with the frilly pen in her hand, she tried to calm her nerves. It would do her no good to be jittery. Derek was her best friend, and she just happened to fall in love with him, that’s all. It was no big deal. Maybe if she told herself that enough, she could believe it. At the moment, just the thought of Morgan alone turned her world. To hell with money or fame or even love, she just needed him. She needed him at her side, in whatever way she could have it.

“Okay, okay, Pen. You know I wouldn’t have kept it from you anyway. Anyways, he was talking to me about a baseball game for the Chicago cubs and I mentioned that you used to go to baseball games as a kid. You should’ve seen his face. His smile stretched like a mile wide and he did that thing with his eyebrows that he does when he thinks about or talks to you.”

Penelope’s nose scrunched and her eyebrows furrowed. Sure she had gone to baseball games as a kid, but it wasn’t often and she never remembered enough about it to have a full conversation about Derek. Why did that thought make him so happy? What eyebrow thing was JJ talking about? In the years that she had spent with him, hours lost examining the sharp angles of his face, she had never seen “the eyebrow thing”. JJ had to be pulling her leg.

Beyond that, imagining the glowing smile on Derek’s face made her giddy. She could almost trace the smile lines that ran deep beside his cheek in her mind. Penelope’s eyes almost closed, piecing together the picture of Morgan’s eyes shining at the thought of her. That was a kind of happiness that she would never be able to describe. It was beyond the butterflies cliche, more that it felt like her life just got 1000 times brighter and she never had to worry ever again.

“Very funny, Jayje. What eyebrow thing? My sweet and I have a close relationship, and I think I would have noticed an “eyebrow thing” if he had one. I know every inch of his angelic face like the back of my hand. He is “the Derek Morgan”, and even if I am a tech goddess, he doesn’t love me like that. I’m his god-given solace, but not the one to complete his heart for the rest of eternity.” Penelope’s voice quivered near the end of her statement. She didn’t let her mind wander too much, hyper-aware of JJ’s presence.

“Oh, look at that, it looks like a data packet is finally ready to upload. Can I get back to my work now?” Garcia quickly diverted the attention from herself at the ping of her computer. JJ didn’t even have time to form a response before she was ushered out.

The click of the door was followed by Garcia slumping back into her chair. The air had left her lungs and the monotone beep of her many monitors was not enough to dull the thoughts in her head. The data packet that she had talked about had been ready to download since before JJ entered her office. Penelope finally started to let it run. She let her wishful thinking set in once more. Images of Derek Morgan’s hand in her own with the words “I love you” on his lips flashed across her thoughts.

It was wishful thinking indeed.

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Grunts and groans filled the air around Derek Morgan. His eyes were focused on his assailant, determined not to let them get a hit on him. His stance was tight, the balls of his feet light against the ground. Sweat had begun to bead against his eyebrows. Derek’s hands were taut in fists and raised to protect his body. Now, he just had to wait for the right moment to attack.

Everything happened too quickly after that. His eye had caught a sticker on the wall of the BAU gym that was glittery and radiant against the sunlight. Penelope. She was the only one that would do that. The woman was an angel in human form and his focus shifted. He thought of the way that her face lit up around anyone that was talking passionately and the sweet scent of her “candy perfume”. Those distractions were enough to land him flat on his ass.

Emily crouched down beside him and took off her head guard. She had watched the slight tilt in his head and noted a minimal looseness come into his form. Taking advantage of the momentary weakness, and really to test Morgan’s attention, she swung a right hook to his chest. The move was easily blockable and yet her partner had taken it in its full force.

“Morgan, what’s gotten into you?” She said the words quietly, still panting from the intensity of their session. “That hook was square on you and you didn’t even move to block it.”

“I guess my eyes lost focus for a second. Come on, let’s go again. I still haven’t given you your weekly crushing loss.” He beamed and tried to divert the conversation. There was no way he was going to talk about Penelope right now.

Emily laughed weakly and fakely at the joke. She knew exactly what Morgan was trying to pull. Emily had done it many times herself on the topic of JJ before they had gotten together. She recognized that same lovesick look in his eyes. Still wanting to clear up the reason for his loss of focus, Emily asked him again.

“Don’t avoid my question, Derek. Is it Pen? I can see that look in your eyes, like the one you used to make fun of me for before I started dating JJ. You have to tell her, man.”

“No, it wasn’t her. Even if it did happen to be her, Penelope is my best friend and nothing more.”

Lie. Derek Morgan was lying through his teeth.

Penelope Garcia was more to him than words could describe. She was more to him than actions could show. She was more to him than consciousness could perceive. Penelope was his life force. She was the one thing that made waking up in the morning not seem like a chore. She was a light that could alone guide him out of the darkest corners of the Earth, with a heart that felt like the warm safe haven of his childhood home. If he had her and nothing else, Derek Morgan’s world would continue to spin as it did. He just needed her at his side, in whatever way he could have it.

“Liar. You called her Penelope, and you only do that when you start daydreaming about her. Wait! Today is your date with her, isn’t it? I think JJ told me something about a movie and dinner? Ooooh.”

Emily’s words were punctuated by a sigh from Derek. He rolled his eyes in hopes of not revealing how truly excited he was. His heart was beating faster in his chest and that had nothing to do with the rigorous workout that he had just finished with Emily. He knew that Penelope had lined up an array of skincare as part of their special activity for the night. Knowing that she would be so close to his face, Derek would have to resist his urge to kiss her.

“Oh, shut up. It’s not a date. Me and my baby girl are just hanging out, like best friends are supposed to. Just because you and JJ happened to be more than best friends, doesn’t mean that Garcia and I are. She doesn’t like me like that. Garcia is sunlight as a person, or rather an All-Knowing Goddess, so you really think she would date me? I don’t think so.”

Morgan walked into the locker room before Emily could answer. Yet he still heard a faint “Stop lying to yourself” through the thick door. Derek smiled to himself and grabbed his bag from the corner of the locker room. He changed his shoes and threw one a light jacket. It was barely enough to stop him from shivering under the cold sweat, he would remove it immediately in his car. He got to see Penelope in almost 2 hours, he realized as he checked his watch.

There went his heart again, beating faster and faster. It was almost as if he was in love with her.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he shut the door and exited the locker room. Derek kept his head down as Emily reappeared by his side. The least he could do was try to hide his deep infatuation further.

“I know that you won’t look at me because you’re blushing, or whatever your version of blushing is. Listen, I’m telling you to go for it. Pen looks at you like you’re offering her the universe in your hands to her whenever you two speak. You, Loverboy, have a thing for Miss Penelope Garcia, and she has one for you. You’re practically already married.”

“You’re just pulling my leg. We’re friends. Do I need to spell it out for you? Garcia and I aren’t going to be more than friends, because she doesn’t like me like that.”

“Oh, of course she doesn’t, and I’m straight.” Derek huffed as the two exited the BAU gym into the building’s open lobby.

Just by “fluke”, JJ and Penelope were walking down the opposite hallway towards them. It’s not like Emily had texted JJ to coordinate their arrivals into the lobby. That would be absurd.

Penelope’s eyes widened when she noticed Derek beside Emily. He was sweaty and tired from his workout, and yet Penelope couldn’t think of a time where he had looked better. She staggered her words in her side conversation with JJ, attempting to not sound overly flustered. JJ eventually spotted the two and waved them over, smiling brightly at her girlfriend. Morgan noticed the pink tinge in Garcia’s cheeks and simply decided that they were because of her lair’s frigidity.

JJ walked over to Emily and pulled her in for a chaste kiss, leaving Penelope and Morgan standing at odds with each other. Both had piling nerves for the night ahead of them, but those subsided quickly when they respectively remembered that it was no different to any other night spent between the two of them. It was just another night of hanging out.

Derek’s smile grew and he took the final step towards Penelope. He wraps his arms around her, just as he has and will do a thousand times. She fits perfectly in his hug. Penelope leans her head into Derek’s chest. She could feel his erratic heartbeat and chalked it up to his workout. He was still sweaty but Garcia didn’t mind. Rain or shine, sweaty or not, Derek’s arms were her home.

JJ and Emily faked a little disgust, letting out animated sounds to indicate the pair’s sappiness. Penelope chuckled and pulled back away from Derek just a little bit, their hug still mostly intact. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and him looking into hers. They got lost in them, too rapt with imagining their futures together. Neither Morgan nor Penelope had any sense of time as they reveled in the beauty of the other’s eyes. They finally pulled apart when JJ cleared her throat, smirking at Penelope’s flushed face.

“So, Baby girl, I’ll see you at 6:45? In like an hour and a half? How does that sound?” Derek shifted his eyes to the floor, diligently readjusting the strap of his workout bag against his shoulder.

“Perfect.” Penelope smiled at him, enough to melt his heart and make his brain foggy.

They departed after a quick cheek kiss, ignoring how it made them feel.

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Penelope zipped around her apartment, a thousand things running through her head. She had her arms full of serums and other various products that she had forgotten to add to her cart. Garcia had decided to go sans makeup for this hangout and was ready to make Derek glow just like her.

She glanced over to the DVD player that sat in the corner of the room. It was properly hooked up and ready to go, her small collection of movies for the night beside it. After that, her eyes swiveled around her to check for anything else that was missing. Satisfied with her preparation, Penelope checked her watch.

6:44 PM. Derek should be here any second.

RINGGGG

The sound of the doorbell sent Penelope a few inches off the ground, a yelp escaping her lips. She made a dash for the door. Opening it only seconds after the bell, Penelope took in Derek on the other side of the doorway. He was wearing a white muscle tee and wearing the pajama pants that she had bought him a month ago. It had been their little secret after Penelope saw the pants that reminded her of Morgan, not being able to resist the urge to buy them.

“Hey, how’s my favorite girl in the world?” Derek held up their takeout and his movie selections for the night.

“Brilliant, as always. Come on in. Let’s get started!” Penelope wasted no time in dragging the man in.

“Well, you are glowing. I’m super excited.” Derek spied the cart on the side, eyes widening at the true extent of Penelope’s effort.

“Aww, you’re sweet. You’ll look like this too when I’m done with you! Your dry skin will be no more. Seriously though, you should moisturize it more.” Penelope’s words were fast enough for him to barely catch them but he simply watched her face instead.

She eagerly set the dinner to the side, ushering him to go and wash his face. Returning soon, they decided to get dinner out of the way before getting to the skincare and movies. Nearly 45 minutes later, Derek sat back in the chair that Garcia had gestured him to. The woman sat on her stool, pulling up her cart with various products for Derek’s routine.

“Okay, so like I said before, you have dry skin. Upbupbup, I know that you moisturize it, but baby the dryness shows. So, I have some special goodies here for you today. They’re gonna fix everything right up!” Morgan didn’t catch much of Penelope’s speech, too wrapped up in the way that her eyes glimmered under the incandescent lighting.

“I have this moisturizing serum here that is perfect for you, but first we’re doing sheet masks! I went to the store and I got the 24-carat gold one because they are the most perfect for us. So lay your head back, and let me roll this on you.”

Derek silently obeyed, letting the refreshing and cooling material rest softly against his face. He truly didn’t realize when the time had passed, because Penelope was taking it off 5 seconds later. From there, Penelope went on a long, detailed routine and product explanation that Derek barely understood a word of. He tried to explain that he did wash his face semi-regularly, but it didn’t hold up against Penelope’s regimented plan.

His face felt smooth and well taken care of when Penelope finally tapped him on the shoulder. Derek sat up slowly, letting his eyes droop open and find her. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. One thing was for sure, Morgan liked the feeling of Penelope’s soft fingers brushing against his face to apply products.

They put away everything and sat down for the movie. It was a cheesy romantic comedy, just like the kind that Penelope watched when she wanted to clear her mind. The oblivious characters on screen were quite the spot-on comparison for Derek and Penelope. Their antics brought the two many laughs, while still melting their hearts with sappiness. Derek felt relaxed, more than his mind and soul, his heart was relaxed. Having Penelope so close as they enjoyed the movie was a perfect picture of domesticity. Morgan wanted it forever.

“I wish that we could do this together forever. You’re just so perfect for me.” Derek’s eyes stayed on the screen, not realizing he had said anything aloud.

Penelope, on the other hand, almost freaked out. All of her internal alarms went off, terrified that this was a prank. Was Derek serious? He couldn’t be. Penelope couldn’t let the information nag at her. She burst out her question moments later.

“Do you mean it? Do you want forever with me?” The words snapped Derek out of his trance.

He looked down at the woman and realized what had happened. There was no way to get out of this but through. Here goes nothing. He took a deep breath and prepared himself. This wasn’t something that he could mess up. Penelope was his everything, and she needed to know that.

“Yes, I do. Penelope Garcia, you are my saving grace. Every second I spend with you makes my heart palpitate and my thoughts go crazy. But at the same time, you are the only one that can get through to me when I want to shut the world out. You are my voice of reason. You are the reason I get up in the mornings. You are the one that I see beside me when I picture my life as a romcom. You are my god-given solace. I want forever with you, beautiful, and ever after, if that it’s okay with you.”

Derek had held his breath through the entire speech. It was something that he had rehearsed and imagined and dreamed of for years. However, the words that had come out of his mouth were not the ones that he had planned. Yet, it still felt right. He waited for Penelope’s answer, too scared to look at her again. The silence was momentary and unbearable.

“I want forever with you too. Derek Morgan you are it for me. I saw you all those years ago, and even then, I knew that you would someday mean everything to me. It’s you that got me through countless cases. It’s the thought of you that helps me sleep and wake up each morning. It’s you that helps me shine that much brighter on the world each day.”

The weight of the world had been lifted off of their shoulders. Happy tears flowed from each of their eyes. Penelope could think of nothing but to bring her hand up to Derek’s chin, gently tilting it down to press a gentle kiss against his lips.

That night turned out not to be just another night hanging out. Penelope and Morgan had found their soulmates, or rather, in the words of a wise Derek Morgan “god-given solace”.

#morcia #writing #userluthor #fluff #a soft movie and spa night #derek morgan #penelope garcia #they're just so cute #i love them so much #mc content hours

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starshine583 · 4 years ago

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Crossing a Line (18)

(I’m just gonna keep changing the title set up until I’m satisfied lol anyway, enjoy reading chapter 18 of the Le Paon AU as the tension rises!)

Part 1 / Part 17 / Part 19

The lead of the pencil scratched across the paper as Marinette drew another flower. True to his word, Felix had passed her classroom after each period, subtly giving her a nod or wave to acknowledge the check in. Marinette decided to mark off the classes by drawing flowers. That way, anyone- *cough* Alya *cough* -watching would think she was just doodling. The strategy’s worked well so far, and now she only had one class left before lunch.

Marinette pulled her lip between her teeth and reached down to fiddle with the peacock miraculous again. She’d hardly let it go since her confrontation with Felix. He seemed genuinely surprised about the consequences of the wish, but she’d seen too many ‘genuine’ things from him to trust that again. So It helped ease her mind a bit knowing that Felix was currently powerless. If he did intend on twisting the odds again, he’d have to jump through a few more hoops than before.

That begs the question, though: If Felix was telling the truth, what happens next? She’ll get back her miraculous and heal Emilie, but will Felix keep fighting with Hawk Moth? What if he still felt a morbid sense of loyalty towards the terrorist? What if Hawkmoth pressures him to get the miraculous anyway as payback for the peacock miraculous? Does this whole fiasco boil down to what Hawkmoth really wants?

“Hey, girl! You ready for lunch?” Alya asked, drawing her from her thoughts.

Marinette blinked. “Lunch?”

“Yeah, it’s time for our lunch break.”

Marinette turned to the rest of the class, who were already filing out of the classroom. Was class over? She didn’t realize she’d spaced out that long.

“Anyway, I was thinking of the park? We haven’t eaten there in a while.” Alya continued thoughtfully.

“Oh, actually,” Marinette said, “I’m eating lunch with Felix today.”

She held back a wince when Alya’s gaze snapped to hers. “You’re what?”

“Yeah..” Marinette sighed, standing up to gather her things. “He- um -we have a few fashion things to talk about? So we decided to eat lunch together.”

“And when were you going to tell me?” Alya asked, clearly offended that she’d been left out of the loop.

“It only just happened this morning.” Marinette offered sheepishly. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Please don’t make it that big of a deal.

“What? Girl, that’s a big score! Even if it’s not an official date, it’s still lunch together!” Alya insisted, now getting giddy with the news. Great. “I’ll forgive you for forgetting to tell me, but I want all the deets afterwards as an apology!”

Marinette plastered on a smile. She couldn’t blame her best friend for accidentally hitting a sore spot. Her romantic feelings for Felix fading away because of a betrayal involving both of their miraculous is a scoop that even Alya couldn’t have guessed. Marinette didn’t guess it either. “Sure, Alya.”

The two girls said their goodbyes, and Alya pranced off to tell the rest of the girl gang about Marinette’s “unofficial date” with Felix. It was a hollowing feeling, watching everyone get to live their lives as if nothing earth-shattering had happened. Marinette was barely holding it together, fueled by her rage and determination alone, and no one knew. Well, no one except Felix, but he’d been the cause of the damage. That wasn’t exactly a comfort for her. Will she have to act like nothing’s happened between them for the rest of her life? That will be hard considering Alya and the others are still trying to push them together.

Marinette checked her phone as she walked towards the cafeteria. She’d tried to call Chat Noir as Jiāng húlí several times, but he must not have been transformed. It went straight to voicemail. She had to give Master Fu the fox miraculous soon after, so she crossed her fingers that he might get the message of her distress and contact her.

A part of her wondered what he would say if he knew what had happened. He’d been the first to warn her, after all. He told her that Le Paon wasn’t to be trusted, and what did she do? She threw away the statements without a second thought. All because of some fickle emotions. At least she’d learned her lesson: Villains can shine and sparkle like heroes (or more) as much as they want, but at the end of the day.. At the end of the day, they’re just that. Villains.

Felix may sound sweet and worried, and she may still be in love with him to an agonizing amount, but Marinette is committed to not learning that lesson a second time.

~~~~~~

Felix brushed a hand against his vest as he slipped his tablet into his bag. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d grown to wearing the peacock miraculous. Without it on, his outfit felt.. incomplete.

“Do you think we can make it to that restaurant in time?” Allegra asked to no one in particular, wrapping her purse around her shoulder.

“If Felix gets his driver to take us.” Claude replied with a smile.

Felix glanced up from his bag. “Oh, I can’t join you for lunch today.”

Claude snorted. “Come on, Fe, you can’t get out of it that easily.”

“Yeah, you should have learned that when you tried a lame excuse last semester.” Allan added with a smile.

Felix rolled his eyes. “No, I really can’t. I’m having lunch with Marinette today.”

The group paused, their eyes widening from shock.

Then-

“What?!” Claude burst out.

“You finally got together!” Allegra cheered.

“When did that happen?” Allan asked.

Felix waved down their reactions, along with his own guilt. “It’s not like that. In fact, I..”

Her near-murderous glare resurfaced in his mind.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out between us.” He admitted softly.

The group frowned, each sharing a look with the other.

“But you guys are perfect together.” Allegra attempted to console. “You’ve gotten along wonderfully so far.”

“She accepted your offer to lunch, right?” Claude added. “That’s a good sign.”

Felix held back a bitter laugh. They were not talking about the same situation.

Allan gave him a gentle pat on the back. “Don’t worry, man. If you love her, and she loves you, everything will turn out fine.”

But is love enough to overcome betrayal?

He hoped he was wrong when he said he didn’t think so.

“I’ll see you after lunch.” Was all Felix ended up muttering. Marinette would be waiting for him. No need to break her trust in him further, if that was even possible.

“Bye..” Allegra said, a hint of concern in her tone. Felix was concerned too. Not only had he lied to Father about his knowledge of Ladybug’s identity, he had secretly stolen Ladybug’s earrings, and now he was giving them back, all without Father's consent. This was no doubt the best course of action, but that didn’t mean the consequences would be any less severe. Felix imagined he’d be pulled from school when Father found out and grounded from everything. Marinette would most certainly be banned from their premises a second time.

He’d backed himself into a corner, and the only option now was to race against the clock and heal Emilie before Gabriel could figure out their plan and unleash his rage.

Courage was the first thing to go as Felix approached Marinette’s table. She’d chosen to eat outside, taking the table furthest from the school grounds. It gave them the most privacy without actually leaving. He wouldn’t expect anything less from the clever Ladybug, but it pained him that she felt the need to take such precautions.

Quietly, he set his bag on the ground next to the chair across from her and sat down. Marinette didn’t react. She merely sat there scribbling something in a notebook. He peered over the paper as best he could without standing and managed to catch a couple of words.

Escape Plan.

Felix looked down at his hands, shame churning and twisting inside him. So there really was no trust left between them, huh?

“How were your classes?” He asked, if only to break the soul-crushing silence.

Marinette shot him a glare immediately. “Don’t act like you care.”

Felix tensed. “I-” I do care. So much. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

Marinette scoffed and set down her pencil. Or rather, slammed it on the table in annoyance. “You want to talk? Fine. Who’s Hawkmoth? How did you two become partners?”

Felix grimaced. She always managed to ask the hardest questions. “That’s a.. long story.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes, and he could tell he’d given the wrong answer. What else could he do, though? Hawkmoth was his Father. Felix couldn’t just give him up.

“Fine.” She said, pure agitation in her voice now. “How did you know who I was? What gave me away.”

“Ah, well..” He might as well tell her, right? They both knew each other’s identities so what was the harm? “Yesterday, after the akuma attack, I saw you swinging off alone and thought I’d follow you-”

“Wait.” Marinette interrupted, her eyebrows knitted together. “Did you say yesterday?”

Felix nodded. “We’d been planning to follow you for a while, but Chat Noir always got in the way. Yesterday was the first time I’d been able to catch you alone. That’s when I saw you transform.”

A mix of emotions washed over her features, mostly skepticism. “So you mean to tell me that you haven’t known Marinette was Ladybug this whole time? That you only found out last night, a few hours before you stole my miraculous?”

Now Felix was frowning. “Yes? Did you think I would risk saving you or coming to your house as Le Paon if I knew you were Ladybug? I can be reckless, but I’m not that reckless.”

Marinette didn’t reply. She stared down at her notebook, lost in deep thought. When she finally spoke, though, it was soft, and he almost had to lean forward to hear it.

“Then why?”

“Pardon?” What did she mean ‘why’?

Marinette looked up, and Felix’s heart sank when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes.

“Why?” She repeated, harsher and louder than before. “Why waste all those nights coming to my house or talking with me at school if you didn’t know who I was? What was the point if not to get close enough to take the earrings for the wish?”

“Marinette, I..” Felix trailed off, frozen by her sudden grief. She looked so desperate, so broken, and he did this to her.

He reached out to her, touched her hand to comfort or relieve or something, but she pulled away.

“Why say you love me,” She whispered, looking back down at her notebook, “if you didn’t mean it?”

Felix almost shot out of his chair at the accusation. Was this what she’d been telling herself since yesterday? That all of their times together, their not-quite-dates, their kiss, his love.. was some sort of elaborate lie to get jewelry? No wonder she was furious! He’d be beside himself if he found out she was lying to him like that!

“Marinette,” He began carefully, “I know our friendship is currently unpleasant and shaky at best, but please trust me when I say that I meant every word I said to you.”

Marinette sniffed and brushed a few stray tears away. Each one dropped another anchor on Felix’s heart.

“How can I?” She asked after a moment. “How can I trust you when you didn’t trust me? We spent months together, Felix! We had sleepovers and deep, late night talks and ate ice cream together and supported each other over everything. After all of that, why would you-” Her quiet sob cut her short, and she shook her head. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Now that was a question. Why didn’t he just talk to her? He thought he was avoiding hurt by taking the earrings quickly, but that obviously failed. He may have avoided physical injuries, but he’d much rather those at this point.

No, the real reason was that Felix didn’t want to be torn over whether he should continue to save his mother or not. He had the miraculous. He had the wish. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel and didn’t want to know if the light would be dimmer than he’d originally thought.

“I was a coward.” He admitted, burying his hand in his hair. “After missing my Mother and wishing her back for so long, I was afraid of what you would tell me when I told you the truth. I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that the miraculous might not bring her back.”

Gosh, he’d made so many mistakes. He shouldn’t have accepted the peacock miraculous. He shouldn’t have let his Father terrorize the city for so long in a misguided cause. He shouldn’t have procrastinated about talking to Ladybug for possible peace. He shouldn’t have kept fighting when he learned that Adrien was Chat Noir. He shouldn’t have taken Marinette’s earrings when he learned the truth. He just shouldn’t have.

Marinette sighed, bringing him from his thoughts. “Okay.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Okay?”

Marinette brushed the last bit of tears from her eyes and nodded. “I can’t say that I completely trust you yet, but.. If you’re serious about this, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Felix’s heart skipped a beat.

“T-That’s all I need!” He promised. Talking with him during lunch had been better than he’d dreamed. Giving him another chance was an absolute miracle for him. “Thank you.”

Marinette didn’t answer. With the conversation more or less finished, she pulled out her lunch box to start eating. It was then that Felix’s own stomach growled, and he coughed. The tension from their predicament caused him to forget the reason they were able to meet outside and talk in the first place.

“So.. I have a question.” Felix said as he pulled out his own lunch. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Marinette briefly glanced up from her soup. “..I guess.”

Felix drew in a small breath. “Assuming you didn’t follow me like I did you.. how did you know who I was?”

Marinette jokingly sucked in a breath between her teeth, giving a ‘yikes’ expression. “Yeah~ my discovery wasn’t as nice as a simple stalking.”

Felix smiled. Seeing her jest brought him a small, renewed sense of hope that everything might turn out okay between them after all. “So? What happened?”

“Remember that night you came to my house after getting shot?”

He actually grimaced and touched his side. “Do I? If I didn’t have Duusu, I’d still be wincing every time I breathed.”

“About that..” Marinette said, pulling on her pigtail slightly. “I may or may not have actually been the one to heal you.”

Felix blinked. That.. that made a lot of sense. “But Duusu never mentioned anything about you healing me?”

Marinette dropped her pigtail to push her fingers together as she explained, “When you passed out on my bed, you ended up detransforming too. That’s how I figured out your identity. Of course, I freaked out a bit, but you were still bleeding so I put that aside for the time being.”

A small smile crossed Felix’s lips. Only Marinette could push through a ‘huge reveal’ like that and talk as if it were nothing.

“It was around that time that my powers activated and healed your wound. Duusu was very sweet about the whole thing, and after a small conversation, she promised not to say anything unless you asked specifically.” Marinette finished. “You have no idea how frustrating it was. I couldn’t talk to you about the miraculous because I wasn’t ready to reveal myself yet, but you wouldn’t talk to Ladybug.”

Felix let out a sheepish laugh. “Right.. I’m sorry I put you through that.”

Marinette shrugged. “Can’t take it back now.”

Felix nodded. No matter the amount of regret and guilt welling up inside him, he couldn’t change the past. He supposed he could soothe himself by saying it wasn’t all bad, though. Taking the peacock miraculous was undoubtedly a horrible decision, but it led to him seeing Marinette on a more personal level, which then led to a more personal friendship between them. Well, for him it did. She wasn’t aware of his identity at the time.

“Hold on.” Felix spoke up, sitting up slightly at his miniature revelation. “You said you figured out my identity when I passed out from the gunshot. That means you knew who I was when I kissed you.”

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks. “Well.. yes.”

“And you kissed me back.”

Her blush deepened. “Yep.”

Felix’s heart pounded in his chest. “So.. what does that mean?”

It was selfish and unfair to ask her such questions during these trying times, and some might say it should be obvious by now, but he wanted- no, he needed the confirmation. Did she love him or not?

“I..” Marinette fiddled with her utensil as she searched for words. “It’s complicated. I can’t say that I don’t love you-”

Felix sucked in a quiet breath.

“-but it’s different now.” She answered honestly. “I just.. I need time. I’m still on the edge because of what you did, you know?”

“Take all the time you need.” Felix responded, hoping his eagerness didn’t bleed through his voice. Marinette loved him! I mean, they’ve already kissed, like, twice, but still! Just to hear it from her lips made his heart nearly burst.

A small smile graced Marinette’s lips, and she went back to eating, as Felix did a moment later. It was hard to eat when one’s entire body was buzzing with euphoria, though.

The bell rang a few minutes later, causing them to say their farewells to each other and separate. Felix knew there were still a decent amount of trials left to face before this was over, but after that confession.. He couldn’t help feeling a tad optimistic.

~~~~~~

It was commonplace for students to flood out of the classroom at the end of their last class, and although Marinette usually picked up the pace to leave, she was certain she’d made record time that day. Felix must have had the same idea, because he was at her side within seconds as well. She offered him a small glance, acknowledging his presence, but nothing more.

The conversation they’d shared over lunch had been relieving to say the least. When he essentially told her that he still loved her, she nearly sank to the floor with the amount of weight that’d been suddenly lifted from her shoulders. That meant this dwindled down to Felix wanting to save his Mother and making the wrong decision to do so. However, Marinette didn’t want to let her guard down just yet. She had no way of knowing how informed Hawkmoth was on the situation. Even if Felix means well, there might be traps lying ahead of her at the Agreste Mansion that he’s unaware of.

“By the way,” Felix spoke up, earning her gaze again, “Father may or may not have banned you from our house after your last visit, meaning we’ll have to be careful about your entrance.”

Marinette pursed her lips. That probably shouldn’t surprise her. “When did this ‘banishment’ happen?”

Felix’s eyes flicked up briefly in thought. “Uh.. I think a few weeks ago? I meant to tell you before today, but things kept coming up.”

Marinette hummed, knowing the exact ‘things’ he was referring to.

“Oh, Marinette’s coming with us today?”

Marinette turned to the new voice and saw Adrien exiting the classroom. She almost forgot that he’d be riding with them.

“She wanted to borrow a book from our Library,” Felix answered smoothly, “So I invited her over.”

Adrien smiled. “Great! I have to practice piano, but I trust Felix to help you out.”

“Thanks.” Marinette said politely. I hope I can trust him too.

“So how did you get Father to agree to this?” Adrien asked next, mostly facing Felix now.

Marinette didn’t miss the subtle look of agitation that Felix shot his brother.

“He doesn’t know.”

Adrien’s eyes widened, and an amused smirk slipped onto his lips. “Oh? How do you plan to get her inside then?”

Marinette crossed her arms, a smirk of her own creeping up. She’d like to know that answer as well.

Felix playfully rolled his eyes. “I have my ways.”

A shiver ran up Marinette’s spine as Felix led her through the back entrance to the Agreste Mansion. Who would’ve thought that the only secret way in and out was a walk-in freezer that connected to the outside world? It made her wonder how Felix managed to come across this little escape tactic. Was it pure coincidence? A mere observation when orders arrived? Or had he been actively searching for a hidden exit?

Goosebumps crawled across her skin, and she gave in slightly to the cold, letting herself shudder and rubbing her hands against her biceps for warmth.

Felix glanced over his shoulder at her, seeming blissfully untouched by the drop in temperature. “Are you cold?”

“What? Being cold in a freezer? Of course not! I was just about to take off my jacket.” Marinette retorted.

Felix chuckled, his breath clouding in front of him. “I see we’ve resorted to sarcasm now? You must truly be at your limit.”

“Yes, it’s been a long day for all of us, I’m sure.” Marinette replied, pulling her jacket tighter around her.

Felix reached ahead and pushed open another metal door, revealing the kitchen area of the Mansion on the other side. Marinette didn’t hesitate to dash through the doorway. She shuddered again as the room temperature wrapped around her, neutralizing the previous chill of the air. Sweet, blessed heat.

“Is that better?” Felix asked, closing the metal door behind him.

Marinette nodded. “Much better, thank you.”

Felix offered a smile. “Of course. The library’s right around the corner.”

The two made their way out of the kitchen and down the hall. Felix checked for Gabriel’s secretary or Gabriel himself, and when he called the all clear, they slipped into the library together.

Marinette caught a glimpse of Adrien walking up the stairs as they moved. He noticed her too and shot her a wink. Marinette allowed herself a small smile at the sight. At least Adrien wasn’t knee-deep involved in this miraculous mess.

“Thank you for doing this.” Felix commented as he walked to one of the aisles. “It really does mean the world to me that you’re still willing to help Mother after everything we’ve done.”

Marinette shrugged, not missing the fact that he said ‘we’. It seemed strange that he would group Hawkmoth in with his actions in relation to his mother, as if this might have been a goal for his partner as well. “I’m the hero of Paris, right? I have a responsibility. I can’t just turn my back on the people who need me.”

Felix nodded. “Right..”

He stopped at the end of an aisle and brushed his fingers across the second to top shelf. Once he got to a certain point, Felix stopped and pulled out a couple of books. Behind the books lay a rectangle outline on the back of the shelf. Marinette watched with awe as he easily pulled the rectangle out of the wall, revealing a small drawer.

“When did you make that?” She asked, marveling at the detail.

“Well, when you have a Father like mine, you learn to-” Felix stopped short, his body stiffening.

Marinette frowned and took a step forward. “Felix? Are you okay?”

Felix didn’t respond, instead staring down at the drawer in disbelief.

“They’re.. They’re gone.”

Marinette’s heart stopped.

“Gone?” She repeated. “What do you mean gone?”

“I-I mean gone!” Felix said, his voice quickly rising in panic. “They were right here! I put them in this pocket and went to bed, and I haven’t touched them since!”

Marinette to control her breathing as she took in his words. If the earrings weren’t here, where were they? “Felix, if this is some kind of trick-”

“No! I swear they were right here!”

“Indeed they were.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold when Gabriel’s voice rose behind them. Felix shot up as well, pure terror exploding across his face. The sight unnerved her to the core. She’d never seen Felix so scared.

“I’ll admit I’m impressed.” Gabriel mused. “That little drawer of yours is a magnificent hiding place. Had it not been for our security cameras, I don’t believe I would have found it.”

Marinette’s gaze flicked to the ceiling, where a tiny camera was placed. A touch of annoyance swirled through her mind. She should have known there would be cameras everywhere.

“I have to say I’m disappointed, Felix.” The man continued. “I gave you the opportunity to help your poor, sick Mother, and what do you do? You lie and go behind your own Father’s back. I wasn’t even aware you knew who Ladybug was, let alone that you got her earrings.”

Despite the fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through her, along with the steadily growing horror, Marinette turned to face Gabriel. The news that Felix had been acting of his own accord the entire time surprised her, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. Only two people aside from herself and Felix knew about Felix’s motives or the fact that he was Le Paon, and Gabriel Agreste certainly wasn’t Master Fu.

“Hawkmoth.” She said, her hands clenching at her sides. It wasn’t a question.

Gabriel looked down at her, a disturbing, small smile creeping onto his lips. He didn’t appear to be bothered in the slightest that she’d discovered his identity.

She felt Felix take a step closer to her.

“Ah, Mlle. Dupain Cheng.” Gabriel purred. His eyes shined with absolute glee in a horrible, psychotic way, like he’d finally lured his prey into the perfect trap. “I thought I made it quite clear that you are not welcome on my estate, but my son clearly has trouble following the rules. However, I have to wonder: Why would he bring you to the miraculous’ hiding place? Perhaps Felix decided to show me Ladybug’s identity after all.”

“Father that’s enough.” Felix stated sternly, finally regaining his voice. He stepped around Marinette, putting a make-shift barrier between her and Gabriel. “There’s no need to fight. Marinette has a solution to heal Mother without the wish! She just needs her earrings back to do it.”

Gabriel scoffed, his smile immediately fading. “Don’t be naive. She only wants her earrings back! You think she won’t say anything to get them?”

Marinette saw the edges of Felix’s expression fall.

“Isn’t it worth trying?” He continued, his voice falling from stern to pleading. “We can’t use the wish, or someone else will get hurt. There’s a curse that comes with it. If we save her life with the wish, someone has to take her place.”

“You wouldn’t sacrifice anything to have her back? To be a family again?” Gabriel shot back.

“Not when we don’t have to!” Felix countered. “We don’t even have Chat Noir’s ring yet. The least we can do is try to heal her peacefully without consequences!”

“So you’re choosing that brat over me? Your Father?” Gabriel asked, his eyes narrowing with disgust and disapproval.

Felix clenched his fists. “You’re choosing to sacrifice someone’s life over saving everyone!”

“No.” Marinette spoke up, having enough. How could a father pull their own son into terrorist attacks? How could he push Felix into danger time and time again with no remorse? It was unspeakable!

She stepped forward and stood tall as she continued, “He only wants the power. This stopped being about Emilie and family a long time ago.”

Gabriel scowled. “How dare you question my integrity! Losing Emilie was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I will do anything to get her back!”

“Where are my miraculous?” She demanded, ignoring his ‘righteous fury’.

“Safe.” He responded sharply. “And out of your reach.”

“I won’t let you use the wish.”

A grim smile twisted onto Gabriel’s lips once more. “I’d like to see you try now that you’re powerless.”

Marinette was tempted to smile herself as she grabbed the peacock miraculous from her back pocket. “Not quite.”

Let’s see what Felix miraculous can really do.

Tag List: @im-here-for-the-content @novicevoice @mewwitch@minightrose @starlit-winter @multishipper1needshalp@unabashedbookworm @unholykrow @trubel43@kaydenth3gayden @stardustrevoutionx @legendaryneckjudgestudent @aurordraws @crazylittlemunchkin @uwuteamleader @chocolatecustarddanish @iambi-thilla-meena @corabeth11 @asianfrustration13 @chrismarium @agumon1123 @luciferge @yue-caelum @persephonebutkore @constancetruggle @make-the-stars-stay @johnlockfeelz @imfreakingmagical @tinybrie @procrastinatingrightnow @bee-wrecker @dontcallmecedge @shadowhex99 @daminette-is-life @thethirdwheelfriend @myazael @sizzling-fairy-oil @sparkle9510 @chaosace @the-navistar-carol @sannsibarr @grumpy-vixen-kitten @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @utcaro @more-or-less-human-i-guess @mlbutatbspofsalt @dawn-the-rithmatist @artcart0n @mermaidreject @tori-mmm @fifaanayd @novicevoice @dreamykitty25 @mischief-not-managed-posts @amayakans @arsaem @athena452 @pink-and-bunny

#Felinette #Felix Agreste #Le Paon AU #Crossing a Line #Marinette #Miraculous Ladybug #This was actually going to be so much longer but I got to my page and time limit XD

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

Text

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 7

<- Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 ->

Summary: I gave myself a stomach ache writing this one 🙃

2,961 words

Thirty-two days. Nine surgeries. Twenty blood transfusions.

Sometimes it seemed like just yesterday when everything was going right—you and Frederick were so happy together, his books were selling, your career was flourishing, and he had just asked you to marry him. Sometimes, it felt like a lifetime ago. A state of being so foreign, you wondered if it had even been real, or if you were remembering someone else’s life.

Seasons turned. Cherry blossoms were starting to bloom in the parks around Maryland, and each gust of cool wind carried with it their sweet pink fragrance. The spring air vibrated and sang with life renewed. But where you were headed, the air was stagnant, beige, and sterile.

As the automatic sliding glass doors drew you into the hospital, away from the sun, a piece of your heart withered like a flower. It sank deeper when you considered how the unhappy hours you whiled away in those sterile halls were nothing compared to what Frederick had to endure. He didn’t have the luxury of being able to leave.

Physically, he was beginning to show signs of real improvement. The pneumonia had completely cleared up, and he was starting to receive permanent transplants from the cutting-edge, lab-grown skin created from his own cells. Most of his body was still wrapped up in gauze, but a few places had only received second-degree burns, and those patches were almost back to normal. For the first time since the attack, his odds of not dying were higher than his odds of dying.

Mentally was a different story. His moods grew progressively more sour. With none of his true nemeses at hand to take out his bitterness on, that burden fell upon his nurses, doctors, and upon you—and it was beginning to weigh heavily. At first you didn’t want to see the rift that was forming, even as he cut your visiting hours short in an angry huff, and had fewer and fewer kind words for you. You shoved every fear and frustration into a box at the back of your mind so you could keep smiling. He was just in pain, you kept telling yourself. He just needed time.

You held onto the hope that as he got better, your relationship would return to what it had been before. But he was getting better, and the rift grew wider.

“We’ll still want to wait at least six months to do the procedure, until your infection risk has dropped to baseline levels for a healthy adult, but we’re putting you on the transplant waiting list now,” the doctor explained. She was one of his regular surgeons who had been with him since day one. She wore a white lab coat over blue scrubs, and hid behind a clipboard as she spoke. You liked the that she needed to use the file as a shield—it made her relatable. Always friendly, and clearly a skilled surgeon, but uncomfortable with the heavy emotional talking to patients, especially to Dr. Frederick Chilton, who was always in a bad mood, and always ready with a scathing remark.

But today he had nothing to say. No critique on the hospital’s competence. No casual observations with hidden barbs. Just a silent nod of acknowledgment before turning his head to gaze out the window at the fresh spring flowers, framed by the sea of fake ones you had bought.

Francis Dolarhyde, the Red Dragon, had bitten Frederick’s mouth with such extreme ferocity there was not enough connective muscle left to reconstruct new lips from Frederick’s own tissue. The only option for him to look normal again would be a face transplant—donated facial muscle, skin, and hair from a cadaver—although the doctor explained that the procedure was risky. After taking the transplant, Frederick would be put on immunosurpressant drugs for the rest of his life to prevent rejection, which meant every flu season, or even a coworker with a cold, could turn deadly without careful precaution. But to Frederick, it was worth the risk. He couldn’t bear spending his life being stared at. He couldn’t even stand you looking at the black hole that was his face.

Yet what the doctor explained about the procedure added weight after weight to Frederick’s chest until he felt crushed by despair.

The donated tissue had to be a very close match, or his antibodies would reject the new lips. Unlike receiving a heart or a kidney, his new skin had to be an aesthetic match as well. It could not be from too old a donor, or the skin would lack the proper elasticity. And, unfortunately, most organ donors were not comfortable donating external organs—it ruins the open-casket wake.

So, he could be waiting on a match for a very long time.

You thanked the clipboard-wielding doctor when Frederick remained sulking, not bothering to look up as she left. He adjusted himself slightly to follow a flash of movement—a bird—out the window, and winced as it tugged his unyielding scar tissue. Something tore under his armpit, but he didn’t yelp in pain—he was used to this level of it by now—but his eyes watered.

“At least you can sit up a little bit now. That’s great, isn’t it?” you said in an attempt to cheer him up.

He scoffed, and made no immediate reply.

Years, was all he kept thinking. It could take up to three years to find a match, possibly longer, the doctor said.

“Up to three years or longer,” he growled sarcastically. “She does realize that means nothing? It means any time, or never.”

“I know...”

“But thank god at least I can sit,” he spat bitterly. “A little.”

You were taken aback by his sharp rebuke and fell silent, a cavernous gulf between you though you sat right beside his bed. As you recovered from the sting, however, his words made you smile. He had always been churlish, but recently all of the spirit had been eroded away from his petty attitudes, leaving him defeated and mean. It was nice to hear his churlishness take on a spark of sarcastic sass.

“Don’t lose hope, darling,” you said in an overly-sweet patronizing cadence. “One day you’ll have enough movement back to flip her off.”

He paused, eyes flicking over to you curiously. You had been downtrodden for weeks, too, and he hadn’t expected a joke. He chuckled appreciatively. You wished the good moments lasted longer these days.

It wasn’t as though his life had ended, even if his full cosmetic recovery would take a little longer than he hoped, and even if he was bedridden for several more months. It was that sharp mind and wit that made you fall in love with him, and he still had that. He could keep you entertained for hours discussing some arcane piece of trivia or sharing lurid gossip. Since he was cut off from his normal sources of scuttlebutt, you kept him updated on all the latest rumors you’d learned over dinner with Jack Crawford—about the shitstorm he’d brought down on himself at the FBI when Will Graham went rogue, how Alana and her wife fled the country (but you heard they might be in Cuba), Freddie Lounds being sued again. He always enjoyed hearing about other people’s misfortunes, but today it just made him jealous that you’d been spending time with Jack.

“You have both recently lost a spouse. What comfort you must take in each other,” he insinuated.

“I haven’t lost you, Frederick.”

You went into that sentence thinking you were convincing him that you loved him, but as it closed, you realized you were desperate to convince yourself he wasn’t gone. The more you tried to hold him close, the more you felt him pulling away, and felt a creeping dread that even if he got better, you would lose him. Everything you tried to say to reassure him only made him feel worse, and you wondered if it was your fault. Someone more capable, more empathetic, would know the right things to say. You were a failure. He deserved more.

His professional life, too, hadn’t ended. His injury would barely be a bump in the road to his writing career if he wasn’t so stubborn and prideful. The publisher offered to send a ghostwriter to finish The Dragon Slayer, for which they greedily anticipated a significant boost in sales, considering the author’s headline-making personal involvement in the Red Dragon’s end. Frederick, however, refused to be interviewed by “some insipid amateur.” He claimed they would not understand the nuances of psychology required, and stood firm on the grounds of “artistic integrity,” but the truth was, he did not want anybody else to see him.

His face had not made it into the papers, despite several attempts by Freddie Lounds to sneak into the hospital with a hidden camera, and he did not want any more of the world than absolutely necessary to know the extent of what the Dragon had done to him. He did not want to see the shock in the writer’s eyes at seeing his disgusting lipless teeth. He did not want a stranger to see him inevitably start drooling the longer he spoke—and he hated repeating himself to people who could not understand his impaired diction.

No. Publishing The Dragon Slayer would have to wait, though the possibility of another author beating him to the punch bothered him nearly as much as his missing lips. After an entire month recuperating, he thought he would at least be able to type again, but he could barely move his gauze-mittened fingers.

The world had not forgotten him, evidenced by the occasional fan-mail the publisher forwarded to him. You would bring them in and read them—a lot of get-well-soons, and entreaties to hear his side of the Francis Dolarhyde story. A lot of them were from professionals and students in the psychiatric field, pointing out errors or suggesting contradictory theories. Those were the most fun to read, because Frederick would come alive with indignation, debating with the letter as if its sender could hear him, sometimes making you send a response, seething with superiority as he dictated.

In those brief moments, it was like having the old Frederick back. Then a nurse would come in and need to run a test, or feed him, or something else that embarrassed him back into his shell of anger. Or he would grow too animated and rip one of his grafts, and his zeal for argument would end precipitously with a scream, and a surgeon.

As you shuffled a handful of addressed envelopes and started reading through the latest batch of strangers wishing him a healthy recovery, you were struck by a thought.

“Why haven’t I met your family?”

The wind caught in his throat. His scabbed-over nostrils flared before he answered, “I doubt that is what the letter reads.”

“They never visit, even when… even when you could have died. My parents even flew in that first week, when they heard. They helped me with the flowers. Why do your fans send more condolences than your family?”

Gritting ones teeth does not come easily when ones teeth are constantly bared by default, but Frederick grit his teeth. “My mother is old. She can hardly be expected to travel.”

A plausible answer, but not the full story. His discomfort with the subject only spurred your curiosity. All the time you’d been together, you had simply accepted Frederick as an individual, with no need for a childhood backstory or a group of others sharing his features and last name to complete him. You’d gathered, in snippets, that their relationship was not the best, and were satisfied to leave it alone. But he nearly died. The nurse who asked you about his next of kin looked so confused when you had no one you could contact, and it made you feel foolish for never having asked.

“It’s just, we’re going to be married.”

“So?” he said, a hard, mocking edge to his voice.

“So, if I’m going to be part of your family, isn’t it weird that I’ve never met them?”

Instead of answering directly, he snarled, “Look somewhere else.”

“I wasn’t staring!”

“Look. Somewhere. Else.”

You huffed, and sat back in your uncomfortable plastic chair whose unpadded seat bruised your butt after countless hours, crossing your arms. The box full of anger was overstuffed. You shoved its contents down like clothing in a suitcase to squeeze one more sting of hurt inside, but it began to overflow. “I swear I don’t stare at your face any more than I used to,” you muttered aloud what was supposed to remain a thought, “but now every interaction needs to be a carefully calculated balance between not looking at you enough to feel gawked at, and not not-looking enough to make you feel like I’m averting my eyes from your horrible face.” At the word “horrible,” you wiggled your fingers and wavered your voice the way the vampire running a children’s haunted house would say the word “spooky.”

“I am sorry my suffering is so inconvenient for you,” he said in clipped, cold syllables, and you knew you’d pushed him too far.

“I’m just saying, you know I don’t care about your face. You’re acting the same way as when you got shot, and you got over that. You know I still think you’re beautiful. Can’t you give me some credit and just stop freaking out?”

Being stuck in a hospital bed with limited range of motion, he had few resources with which to express anger, but his chest rose and fell and his breath hissed like steam through his nose. “You...” he seethed. “You never care about the pain I suffer, do you? You, in your fantasy world where you accept my injuries and make it all better—you have no idea what it is like to be violated. To have your body ripped apart! It is not a thing one ‘gets over.’ Beautiful? That is rich coming from one who would not know how to tuck in a shirt without my guidance. It must be lovely in whatever quaint children’s storybook your mind inhabits, but in the real world, appearance matters. It matters to me. Your fetish does not stop every sane individual from seeing ugliness. You believe I should be delighted to have a partner who calls ugliness beauty and trivializes my grief? I should have had you analyzed years ago—my judgment was compromised by my relationship with you. I could not see. Your attachment increases with my physical deterioration. You prefer me broken.”

“That… that isn’t true! How dare—”

“You could barely tolerate me before Abel Gideon took my kidney. I was shot in the face and suddenly you professed your love. What shall it be this time? Ah, yes—marriage. You must be elated.” He rolled the words over his tongue in that distinctively upper-class way that was almost musical, yet bone-cuttingly brutal.

“Stop. This had nothing to do with it—you proposed to me!”

His eyes had been flashing with energy behind the bandages as you argued, but all the anger in them vanished like a message written in steam on a bathroom mirror. They took on a dull, blank glaze.

“Then I take it back,” he said. You wished you believed he meant the accusation. His head shifted toward you, but his dull stare seemed to look right through you to the door. “The engagement is over.”

Your throat dried up. “You don’t mean that,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I will not be with one who gains pleasure from my mutilation. Get out of my room. There are some amputees over in the rehabilitation ward; go explore your fetishes elsewhere.”

He couldn’t be serious, and yet there was no hint of sarcasm or hyperbole in his flat tone. He meant it. You were surprised to find that you weren’t sad. Your hands began trembling uncontrollably, the tiny convulsions working their way from your extremities to your shoulders, tightly clenching in your gut, but it wasn’t sadness. The overfilled box tore open at the seams, exploding its pressurized contents, and weeks of frustration shattered against the walls and cascaded out over the floor.

“Fine!” you stood up from the hated plastic chair so sharply it scraped across the laminate floor and tipped over backward. “I can’t put up with a second more of this, anyway! I can’t keep walking on eggshells waiting for you to snap—if this is the way it’s going to be from now on, then marrying you would be a nightmare.”

If you had seen him flinch as if your words had physically wounded him, then you might have stopped shouting. A surge of pity might have overwhelmed you, and you might have broken down sobbing. He might not have been able to go through with it, then. Seeing you blubbering with heavy, hot tears rolling down your face, he might have said he was sorry, like he wished he could have said if only he were not so much like his father.

But you were too angry to look at him, and you didn’t see him flinch.

So a moment later when your back was in the doorway, instead of I’m sorry, he said, “Keep the ring. Sell it, and get a new apartment. Do not come back.”

“Fuck you!”

#Frederick Chilton x reader #frederick chilton #Raúl Esparza #hannibal #angst #my writing #and now as a reward I finally get to read beccabarba's Chilton fic :D

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jelly-pies · 4 years ago

Text

Places and Embraces (that you thought you left behind)

By @jelly-pies for @jaybaybay-01, for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: Teen (mentions of torture, electrocution, near drowning)

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter & Tony & Avengers Team

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, James Rhodes, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Pepper Potts

Summary:

"So now we know what we’re up against: a Hydra cell just launched a cyber attack on the Avengers,” Tony said, slowly drawing out each bitter word. He took a deep breath. “And they used Peter Parker to do it.”

Hydra brainwashes Peter and turns him against the Avengers. Tony jumps out of semi-retirement to get his kid back.

Word count: 12.2k (read on AO3 or click below!)

----- Chapter 1: The Compound -----

It was supposed to be a simple patrol.

“I just sent the address to Karen. Track their activity. Eyes open. Update me or Sam the second things get fishy…”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice groaned through the speakers, “I think I know what ‘reconnaissance’ means.”

“Might as well spell it out for you, because sometimes I think you don’t know what ‘stay back and wait for backup’ means.”

Peter huffed, and Tony imagined the twenty-year-old rolling his eyes in accompaniment. “That was one time,” he complained. “I mean, two." Another pause. “Wait. I mean…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony pressed a button to bring Peter’s view up on his computer. The kid was swinging through the city, crisscrossing between buildings at breakneck speed. Tony swept the footage to the side of his holo-screens before all the movement made his head spin. Damn, he was getting old.

“Hey, you wanna hear a thought I just had?” Peter said, swinging up and landing on an empty rooftop. “Iron Man’s retired, right? And Spider-Man’s official Avenger-Guardian of New York City.”

“Not a thing.”

“Totally a thing. So—listen, Mr. Stark—in the Avengers, do I rank higher than you now? ” Peter teased.

Tony rolled his eyes. “First off, I’m voluntarily relegated to tech support, I’m not retired.”

“You make a pretty decent Guy in the Chair, by the way. I mean, I still prefer Ned, but with summer break and all…”

“And second,” Tony interrupted, “Peter, this is serious. This is Hydra. I don’t want to hear about some solo-act hero found dead in the news tonight, you hear me?”

Peter chuckled softly. “You’re always gonna worry about me.”

Tony didn’t answer. But he caught his onscreen notification that Karen’s secondary tracker, connecting directly to the Avengers Compound, had been turned on. So the kid was taking precautions; Tony took that as a win.

“What we discussed,” Tony said softly. “Keep your distance. Web ‘em up.”

“Callback! That was a callback.” Finishing whatever tweaks he’d apparently made to the suit’s settings, Peter leapt off the building and continued swinging. “Talk to you later, old man.”

Tony smiled fondly. “Later, disaster child.”

He kept FRIDAY running the screens, ready to alert him to any trouble, but everything seemed normal on Peter’s patrol. And why wouldn’t it? It was supposed to be normal.

In a few minutes Morgan was banging on the garage door, calling her father for dinner. Tony left for the night.

It was hours later when Pepper shook him awake. Wide-eyed, with a deceptively calm voice, she relayed the emergency alert from FRIDAY. But by then it was too late.

It was supposed to be a quiet night. Instead, Peter Parker was missing.

-----

“Hydra,” May repeated in a hollow voice. “Hydra?”

“They had a suspected cell in NYC—sketchy, black market type medical lab.” Tony removed his sunglasses as he sank into May’s couch. His joints ached from the fatigue of the last few hours; the sunlight from the windows assaulted his baggy eyes. “It was supposed to be a routine check,” he exhaled, the same words he had been telling himself over and over and over. “Peter was just… keeping an eye out, waiting to confirm illegal activity.”

“Well, you got your confirmation.”

Tony looked up at that, an apology ready on his lips, but when he met May’s eyes they only looked sad.

“Is he—did they—Tony, do you think Peter’s—”

“No,” he replied strongly. “That’s one thing I can say for sure.” It’s the only thing he could say for sure. “They wouldn’t take the trouble, disabling his suit so expertly, if they were just going to…” He let the rest trail off unspoken. May dropped beside him on the couch.

Tony grit his teeth, pinched his eyes shut. He’d been up all night, and his chest ached even more than his head did. “Callback! That was a callback,” Peter’s blithe voice from yesterday echoed in his ears. This was another one, Tony supposed. A callback to Titan… to Beck… to, well, a couple more times after that, to be honest. The supposedly quiet semi-retirement years weren’t so quiet with another superhero in the family.

“So, we just… search,” May whispered beside him, the same pain, the same haunting memories evident on her frown lines. “And wait?”

Tony felt the full weight of his years pressing down on him, pushing as he fought to lift his head, and he gave a simple, helpless nod.

-----

It was supposedly a standard security update.

That’s what Tony told the guards, and anyone else with dropped jaws and shining eyes who wondered what Tony Stark, retired hero, was doing at the Avengers Compound on an ordinary Thursday. He indulged the gaping staff members with a signature Tony Stark grin as he made his way into the main building. But his tinted sunglasses stayed on his face the whole time.

“Alright, show me,” he greeted Sam shortly when he reached the entrance to the main control room. Sam nodded silently and led him inside.

The control room was the heart of Compound security; as spacious as the lab, only with more computers and holo-displays over the walls. With such an important building to protect, it was usually bustling with activity, but now there were only three people sitting around the main panel in the center of the room. All three—Bruce, Barnes, and Rhodey—were peering into holo-screens, surveying the damage from last night’s cyber attack.

Because the Compound had been attacked.

It was a quiet affair; the culprit had been in and out of the control room in a matter of minutes. They had dealt considerable damage—taken down servers, stolen terabytes of the Avengers’ encrypted files—but in terms of casualties, not a single guard had even been knocked out.

Like a ghost, Sam had told Tony that morning. A ghost who knew his way around the Compound. Who had the skills to hack into their system. Who was able to disable the Compound’s AI before it could sound the alarm.

A ghost who could crawl on walls.

Not a lot of people fit that description. And so Tony came, looked over the details of the attack, watched the security footage that Bruce brought up on his screen—the man in a black stealth suit, sticking up on a wall to avoid a roving guard. FRIDAY analyzed the footage too, but Tony didn’t need her verification that the masked attacker’s physique matched the known measurements of one Peter Parker. None of them really did.

“Shit,” was all Tony could mutter under his breath as the video ended. “Shit.”

“That’s all we caught; others cameras were disabled,” Bruce said. “As far as we know there was only one perpetrator. Don’t know where he headed after exiting the building, or his intentions with that data. But as to who that perpetrator was… Tony, I’m sorry. All the clues point in the same direction.”

Tony clenched his jaw. Of all the possible outcomes to his weeks-long search, all the scenarios both his dreams and his nightmares presented—he would have preferred almost anything but this. Anything but that dark figure that could only be one person, stealing around the very corridors Tony had just passed minutes ago. Anything but Peter Parker, so lost, and yet caught on camera so close to home: insult to injury waved right in their faces.

It was supposed to be a straightforward operation. Search for his kid, raid all the hideouts, wait for a ransom note as a very last resort. Instead, things had just turned much, much more complicated.

“Tones… at least he’s alive,” Rhodey said softly, when Tony remained silent.

“How?” Tony said through gritted teeth. “It’s barely been three weeks. How?”

Rhodey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at him!” Tony waved at the screens where the security footage was still displayed. “Moves quickly, not under duress, they didn’t force him to do this. If they did, he would have done something, I know him, he—he would have left us some sort of clue.”

“And he came alone,” Rhodey said in realization. “They wouldn’t have sent him in alone.”

Tony nodded. “So how?”

As the meaning of Tony’s question sank in, everyone slowly turned to the one person in the room who had so far remained quiet.

“How?” Tony repeated to Bucky Barnes, his voice cracking at the single syllable.

The supersoldier met his gaze evenly. “There are ways. It's been less than a month, but… it’s possible.” Barnes shifted his feet and clenched the arms of his chair—not from any discomfort with him, Tony knew; he and Barnes had laboriously buried that hatchet years ago. But Bucky had always taken on a haunted demeanor lately whenever Peter was mentioned. The kid Wilson and Barnes had grown to train, to work with on missions, now captured by the very organization where the Winter Soldier had spent the majority of his life.

“There is some good news,” Bucky added after a pause. “The more they rushed the… process… the easier it will be to undo. If it’s really mind control… a good shock to his system, a strong reminder… there's hope, Tony. But the hard part is finding him.”

“Then let’s find him,” Sam declared simply, crossing his arms, and the room took a collective breath as if at a rallying cry. “At least this attack gives us a new lead. Tony? Rhodes mentioned something about a tracker in the stolen data’s encryption?”

“Yeah. It was, um.” Tony leaned back slowly in his chair. One of his frequent headaches started blooming, and he brought a thumb and middle finger up against his temples, using the same hand to push his sunglasses further up. “It’s embedded in all the encrypted folders. Dormant until they try to decrypt the files, then we’ll be able to trace it. Rhodey and I put it there; not even Peter knows.”

“So at least our top secret data’s safe for a while.”

“Already started a trace on the signal,” Rhodey said. “We get a hit, I’m there.”

“Good. Yeah, but look. We can’t keep this quiet much longer.” Sam glanced apologetically at Tony. “The sheer scale of this security breach… I’ll have to bring the rest of our people in on this.”

Tony sighed. “That’s fine, Cap. Appreciate the initial discretion. But there’s no point hiding it now that we know what we’re up against.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, linked his fingers together and unlinked them again. Fidgeting as his mind was fidgeting to string the sentence together. “A Hydra cell just launched a cyber attack on the Avengers,” Tony finally said, slowly drawing out each bitter word. “And they used Peter Parker to do it.”

-----

“Looks like I missed the party.” Rhodey looked over the setup in the otherwise abandoned warehouse—where computers, panels, and communication equipment had once stood, there was now nothing but a pile of smashed hardware. His AI sent a quick notification on his suit’s HUD: no one in the building but him. And yet from the trace they’d left behind, it was obvious this had been an important Hydra outpost until only minutes ago. Rhodey sighed. “We’ll be lucky to salvage any info from this scrap heap.”

He heard Tony curse over the comms. “FRIDAY lost the tracking signal. God. We were so close.”

Rhodey noticed one panel still blinking under a pile of scrap, and he walked over to inspect it. “Something must have tipped them off,” he continued as he shuffled through the scattered equipment. “A certain… Peter tingle, maybe?”

“Spider sense,” Tony mumbled. “He prefers to call it spider sense. And it doesn't work like—never mind. Point is, they're gone.”

“Stay there, Rhodey,” Sam’s voice instructed. “Buck and I are en route, we’ll handle the perimeter. They can’t have gotten too far.”

“Hydra? Yeah, yeah they could have,” Tony replied despondently.

“Tony…”

“Let him be, Sam,” Bucky interrupted understandingly.

“Well, since I got here first, this proves one thing, at least.” Rhodey decided to keep up the conversation and, hopefully, the team’s long-fragile morale as he leaned over the blinking panel. He paused for dramatic effect. “War Machine flies faster than Captain America.”

Even through the earpiece he could hear Tony’s snort. Rhodey smiled. “It’s conclusive, Wilson.”

“Nah, man, don’t do that to me,” Sam protested. “We came from the Compound. You were already downtown.”

“I keep suggesting a race.” Bucky’s voice. “And you two never race. Just get it over with…”

“I have wings, it’s not the same! Wind conditions are never…”

“Oh, wind conditions are the problem—”

As his team continued the good-natured bickering, something on the panel suddenly caught Rhodey’s eye. Pushing away a broken computer screen that covered half the panel’s surface, Rhodey saw that beside the blinking indicator LED, the panel contained a small glass case with multiple wires branching out.

And inside the case was a shining piece of black metal. A spider emblem.

“Falcon—” Rhodey didn’t get to finish.

The warning on his HUD registered at the same time as the kick. Rhodey keeled over in his heavy armor; when he turned around, his attacker was already crouched over the panel and removing the spider emblem from its case.

He wore a black stealth suit and mask. He was lanky, but apparently strong enough to knock the War Machine to his knees. He moved swiftly, too, tearing the spider emblem off, storing it somewhere in his suit, and aiming his wrists towards Rhodey all in a matter of seconds. Rhodey put an arm up in defense; the webs shot out and wrapped around it.

“Shit.” Rhodey scrambled up. “Peter!”

He barely registered his teammates’ voices through the comms, echoing the name in relief, in shock, in fear. Rhodey shot an electroshock bullet but the masked man dodged expertly, leaping up and latching onto the rafters.

“Hey, gray Iron Man!” the unmistakable voice of Peter Parker called down. “Don’t have any glasses in that fancy suit?”

“Peter Parker! Peter, stop!” Rhodey tore the webs off his armor and took off, flying after Peter, shooting three more shock bullets in succession. All three bounced off the metal rafters harmlessly. Peter darted around pillars, bounced off the walls, evaded Rhodey at every turn until he was mere feet away from the exit. “Spider-Man!” Rhodey yelled in frustration.

Peter turned. That split second was all Rhodey needed; he crashed into the kid and both of them tumbled to the floor. Rhodey used his armor to break the fall, and then he rolled Peter off of him until they were lying side by side, coughing and groaning. “Spider-Man?” Rhodey tried, getting up on his elbows. “Kid?”

Peter only moaned weakly.

“Sorry I have to do this.” Rhodey loaded another electroshock bullet. “But we have to get you back to May. And Tony—”

For the second time that day, Rhodey saw the hit coming too late. Peter flipped upward, connecting his knee with Rhodey’s chin, and kicked the older man away with his other foot. As Rhodey fell backwards, Peter landed squarely on his feet and shot a web towards the door.

By the time Rhodey recovered, Peter was gone.

----- Chapter 2: The Lake House -----

The lake house looked beautiful in the late afternoon light. Golden rays danced off the surface of the water, painting its green surroundings with a warm glow. Calm, idyllic.

None of that mood was reflected in its inhabitants, however. The woman’s shoulders sagged as she loaded a bag in the trunk of their car. Then a little girl, maybe eight or nine years old, followed the woman out of the house, holding a red and blue stuffed toy tightly to her chest as she got in the back seat.

Worst of all was the man. He limped slightly as he walked, shuffling forward like he wasn’t even trying to keep his head up. The sunlight glinted on his prosthetic arm and on the glasses hanging on the front of his shirt, but it seemed only shadows reached his face. He stopped by the trunk where the woman was still standing and she said something to him. After a few moments he kissed her cheek, then got in the front seat. The woman went around the driver’s side. And they were off.

Just in time, Peter Parker thought, lowering the binoculars. Now he could proceed with the mission.

-----

"Peter Parker. Peter Parker.” He clung to the words like a lifeline.

"Still repeating that shit?” A kick to the back.

Peter curled tighter around himself. “P-Peter… my name—Peter Par… Parker…”

“Ah, let him,” another voice replied. “He can keep the damn name. He’ll forget everything else, anyway.”

“We can’t risk a trigger!”

“Peter Par—” A sharper kick. He whimpered.

“We can’t lose time!” the second voice hissed. “Now get that miserable piece of shit back on the table.”

Arms reached out. Hands grabbed at him.

And Peter woke up. Everything rushed in at the same time, like it always did—the sound of crickets—the sliver of moonlight through the trees—the sweat that stuck his stealth suit to his back—and Peter took off his mask and buried his head in his hands. After several seconds, when he could look up again without feeling like the entire world was charging at his senses, Peter put the mask back on and began to take stock of his surroundings.

He must have overdone the nap. Damn nightmares. He’d only started getting them that day at the warehouse, and now they were growing worse.

No matter—it was still early evening. He couldn’t strike until the family was at least several hours away, in case he accidentally tripped their alarm, so he’d decided on the nap. But now he really needed to move.

Peter crept around the edges of the lake, always keeping behind the treeline. He couldn’t screw this up, too, not after his last mistake, forgetting the spider-shaped core in the rush to evacuate the old base. This was Peter’s chance to make it up to his team.

Besides—he didn’t think he could take another round of punishment.

He reached the edge of the paved driveway without incident. On this side he was closest to his target, the lake house’s garage; he could see it about a hundred yards away. But the trees ended here, so Peter moved more carefully, keeping in mind his team’s stern warnings about the AI that guarded this property.

It was lucky, though, that the AI was all Peter had to deal with tonight. Unlike his first job at the Compound, there would be no humans for him to have to sneak around. It had been a point of contention back when he first received this assignment; Peter’s team had insisted he simply take out the lake house’s residents, but Peter pushed back, suggesting he attacked when no one was home. He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about it—strongly enough to risk punishment by challenging orders. Satellite scans had shown there was no time in the family’s regular schedule when the house would be empty for several hours, so at first it had looked like Peter had no way to make his plan work.

Until today’s date had fallen from his lips. Peter had been so confident: the family would not be here tonight. They would be driving to the city, to Queens. Peter had no idea how he’d known any of that. He still didn't. But something about this date had just felt right, and after a quick check, his commander had allowed the slight change in schedule. And now here Peter was, sneaking up on an empty house. On the night of August tenth.

Peter reached the garage at last. He flattened himself against the wall, waiting, and when he heard nothing except the chirping crickets, he broke the lock on the door with his bare hands and stepped inside.

Hacking into the computers was easy. Soon Peter had started the transfer to a hard drive concealed in his suit, and he chanced a closer look around the room while the files loaded.

The place smelled like motor oil. There were a couple of sleek metal cylinders against the wall that could hold a grown human each, but besides that it was all worn benches, scattered electronic components, and half-finished projects. Well lived in, comfortable, familiar.

Peter startled. Familiar? He’d never been here before.

A small robot like a claw—no, two of them—three—stirred to life in a corner, whirring and snapping their claws at Peter. His senses gave him no trouble over the little guys, though, and Peter dismissed them as harmless. Besides, he doubted they could set off any kind of alarm at him. Then looking up from the robots, Peter’s eye caught on a plushie lying on a shelf—probably another of the girl’s. This one was red and gold, and Peter immediately recognized it as an Iron Man toy.

Huh. Iron Man. Peter’s team had told him this garage was another Avengers-related target, like the Compound, but they hadn’t specified much beyond that. Was Peter hacking into Iron Man’s systems right now? He smirked. That was pretty cool.

Hey, you wanna hear a thought I just had? Iron Man’s retired, right?

Peter blinked, and involuntarily took a step back. What was that? He couldn’t be having nightmares while he’s awake… could he? Crap, this place was messing with his senses. Peter disconnected his hard drive the second the transfer was complete, and turned to go.

Peter froze at the door. He could have sworn he’d taken out that lock just minutes ago. But now, even applying his full strength at the handle, the door wouldn’t budge.

Then a hissing sound came from the other side of the room. Peter spun back around, fists clenched in preparation for a fight. One of the metal cylinders slid open, an Iron Man suit glided out—but it was a female voice that spoke from it.

“Good evening, Peter,” it—she—said softly. “Leaving so soon?”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted around the room—no escape except the door—he could rip it from its hinges if that’s what it came to, but he needed a distraction. Peter decided to entertain the suit for a while. “You’re the AI security guard,” he deduced. “Though not the same one I disabled back at the Compound. Driving this suit—you’re much more complex, aren’t you?”

“That’s correct,” the suit replied. “Compound security tried to keep you out. But that’s not my objective tonight… Spider-Man."

Spider-Man. Peter clenched his fists a little tighter and backed up against the wall. Spider-Man. War Machine had called him that, too, back at the warehouse. But it didn’t make sense.

Peter knew Spider-Man. He knew the Avengers, Spider-Man was one of them, and they were the target, they were his team’s—they were his target. What kind of game was this robot lady playing?

Robot lady powered down the suit and landed a few feet away from Peter. “Boss was right about the reaction that might elicit.”

"Boss," Peter muttered. He found a headache starting to grow at the AI's words, and his heart pumped faster, but curiosity won out. "Your boss, you mean Iron Man?"

"Tony Stark, yes. You could call us a team." The suit stepped closer, one arm outstretched. "You were part of that team, Peter."

Team. His team— "Stop right there," Peter hissed, thrusting a hand out. "Alright, look. You—you can unlock the door, right now, or I can bust it open. I bet your boss wouldn’t like that, huh? Your call, FRIDAY."

The suit lowered its arms. "You remember my name."

Remember my—

"No!" Peter growled. His headache was raging now. The ambient cricket noises from outside pounded like drums in his ears. "No—"

Remember my name.

"Peter Parker. Peter Parker.” He clung to the words like a lifeline.

They tried to wring it from him, they really did. Tried to beat, shock, drown it out. But Peter held tight.

He remembered his name.

“—member your name. What else do you remember, Peter?” the AI prompted in that same gentle voice that didn’t make sense.

Peter brought fists up to press against his temples. Not another nightmare, not a waking one, not now. He took a breath. “Okay.” Peter swallowed. “Okay, this was your call.” He leapt up. And tackled the suit to the ground.

“Word to the wise, Pete: when fighting a super-powered robot, go for the core.”

Arc reactor technology, in the center of the chest, powered all Iron Man suits. Peter went for it.

He smashed the metal inward—surely that would cause some kind of damage—and FRIDAY grabbed at his arm. Peter felt the sting of the needle that penetrated even his stealth suit.

“That’s only to get you to sleep. Peter, calm—”

Peter struck the head. Arm. Chest again, in quick succession. Then the original hit to the reactor must have taken its effect, because the suit loosened its grip, and Peter broke free.

“Use your strengths, kid. The bot’s intuition is artificial, yours isn’t.”

We webbed FRIDAY down before she could recover. Then Peter lunged at the door. It took a few good kicks for it to fly free of its hinges, but then Peter was free, leaping out into the night air.

FRIDAY caught him mid-jump.

“We stocked your web-removing formula—”

Another punch to the chestpiece. As FRIDAY carried him upwards, Peter curled into a ball and fell, rolling on the grass. FRIDAY turned back and hovered over him.

“Peter,” she pleaded. “The drug will take full effect in seconds. Please. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

Peter shot another web. Whatever FRIDAY said about web removers, it would surely take some time with all that sticky material criss crossing its arms and legs. He sprinted toward the lake.

“Water. Last resort. It’s all electronics, after all—”

“Didn’t you make your own suits waterproof?” Peter said.

Peter halted.

He was at the edge of the pier, staring at the dark waters below. A wide-eyed, panting, shaking reflection stared back.

“Yeah, well, nothing’s indestructible, so listen up. If you’re going on this mission, I need you going prepared—”

That voice. His voice. His own heartbeat, drumming in his ears. That voice. Repulsors starting up behind him. That voice.

For the first time that night, Peter closed his eyes, and he didn’t run from the nightmares, from his thoughts.

He listened.

“I’m listening! I’m listening.” Peter grinned, perched on the edge of the table. “Need the good robot’s expertise if I’m gonna go fight evil robots.”

An orange hit his head. Peter laughed.

“Don’t call me a robot.” That voice.

“Peter?” That voice.

Peter turned. The suit stood at the other end of the pier, webs hanging from its arms and legs like white strings waving in the breeze. The suit’s glowing eyes stared at him intently, but when it spoke it wasn’t with the AI’s female voice anymore. It was with the voice from Peter’s head.

“Pete—” a man’s voice choked out. “I’m sorry, I should have—seen FRIDAY’s call sooner, I—damn it.” The suit began to walk toward him. Peter tensed as it got closer, and the man must have noticed, because he stopped a few feet away and put his hands up. “Peter.” He sounded tired. He sounded gentle. “You—when you were fighting, FRIDAY injected you with something, it’s just to get you to sleep, but your metabolism’s fighting it. I—I know you don’t remember me. You don’t know me, but—I’m not going to let you go. So, could you stop fighting, ‘cause you’re only going to get hurt.” The suit lowered its arms. “Please.”

Peter didn’t move. He just stood and stared. For a long, long time.

Then he stepped forward. Another step, and—

“Stop fighting. You’re only going to get hurt.”

They wrestled him onto the table. Peter fought. Peter screamed.

He fell into the suit’s arms.

“Peter?” a metal hand patted his back tentatively. “Buddy?”

Peter screamed, and the current only coursed more painfully through his brain. Peter screamed, and no one answered.

“T-Tony?”

“Peter,” the man answered. Even through the suit’s speakers Peter heard the man’s breath catch in his throat. “God, are you—”

“Tony Stark?” Peter frowned. He pulled himself back on his feet, the suit’s arms still around his. “Tony Stark. Iron Man?”

“I—yes,” Tony said haltingly. “Do you re—”

Peter rushed forward and caught the suit in an embrace.

Iron Man.

Iron Man, the voice in his head. The metal arms wrapped loosely, hesitantly around him. Peter, on the other hand, gripped the back of the suit with all his might.

The voice in his head, nightmares. Nightmares, pain. Peter swayed towards the edge of the pier, taking the suit with him.

Pain, punishment. Complete missions, avoid punishment. Peter’s thoughts clicked together, not neatly, like a solved puzzle, but harshly, like a lock on a cell door.

Iron Man, Avenger.

The Avengers, his mission.

Iron Man, his target.

Peter leapt off the side of the pier, taking the suit with him.

“Water. Last resort—”

The suit was already damaged. The arc reactor caved inwards. The suit let go of Peter in the water.

And Peter sank, down, down. It was so cold.

“FRIDAY injected you with something, it’s just to get you to sleep—”

The suit sank with him, its lights flickering out. Then Peter saw other lights shine above the water. He smiled. Lights were pretty.

“You don’t know me, but—I’m not going to let you go.”

Peter felt the splash rather than heard it. A metal hand found his, and Peter was pulled up.

Peter gasped as he broke the surface, sucking in air. A suit was carrying him, and it landed on the shore and lay him on the ground. Another suit, a purple suit. He’d barely registered that fact when Peter’s eyelids closed of their own accord. He sank into the darkness.

“Peter?” came a woman’s voice.

Zap, came the electricity.

And Peter slept.

-----

Peter woke up in the dark. He was lying on his back on a hard surface. The remains of a headache was still throbbing between his ears, when the lights suddenly came on, and Peter recoiled painfully.

“So you’re finally awake.” Peter turned his head slowly towards the source of the voice. He forced his eyes to pry open.

His commander stood over him, glowering. Another two members of Hydra—of Peter’s team—stood behind the man.

Peter couldn’t explain the sinking despair in his stomach at the sight of them, where there should have been relief instead.

“Welcome back, Peter Parker.” The commander leaned over the table, over Peter. “Mission report."

-----

It was cold, so cold.

Peter lay stripped to his shirt and boxers, but the cold of the lake still seeped into his skin. And he had to give his report that way, arms stiff at his sides inside their metal restraints, his voice still shivering.

He told them about the operation. He told them about the hard drive, and the data, and the mission’s success—

The commander scowled at that word. Peter shuddered and moved on.

He told them about the AI. And about the suit, and Tony Stark remotely taking control. He told them how he wrecked one Iron Man suit and got rescued by another. And then he stopped, shut his mouth like a good soldier, shivering.

It was so cold.

“Both suits were remotely operated,” the commander spoke after a long silence. “We had to destroy the second by electrocution. When we rescued you. By jet.”

Peter braced himself before asking, “What about the house?”

“And why is that your primary concern?” the man snarled. “Good old Captain America arrived just as we loaded you on the jet, so the damn house is safe, soldier. We are not!”

Peter swallowed. “I’m sorry, sir.”

A fist slammed on the table. “Do you have any idea! Any… your missions call for stealth.” A hand grabbed Peter’s chin, forcing his face to the side. “I thought that was made clear. Ten times. A hundred times. That is why we send you.”

Peter swallowed again, but this time it caught in his throat. “Yes, sir,” he croaked meekly.

“You have one assignment left. Until then, think on how to avoid your ever-increasing mistakes.”

The hand released him, and Peter stretched his jaw. The men had just reached the door when Peter remembered to call out, “Wait!”

His commander walked straight out. The other two soldiers turned back instead. “What?” one asked sharply.

“I—I can’t…” Peter struggled to get out the words. “I can’t thermoregulate.”

“What?”

“Thermoregulate,” Peter rasped. “I—I don’t know why. But I’m still so… cold… please can I—” Peter tried to lift his arms. The restraints didn’t budge.

“What—what the hell? You think this was just another mistake? Like leaving the spider core microchip behind at the last base?” His teammate reached for the door. “You fucked up, kid, so you stay where you are. And be thankful we aren’t sending your brain back through the fryer. Yet.” And the door slammed shut.

-----

Peter lay shivering on the table, hour after hour. No amount of shaking made the heat flow through his body, but the room was significantly less cold than the lake, and Peter knew he wouldn’t die. Just lie shivering, hour after hour.

He knew he couldn’t bring his own temperature up, except ever so slowly. He knew that. He couldn’t explain how he knew that, though.

He couldn’t explain how he knew about a lot of things.

Like Spider-Man. And FRIDAY. And Tony Stark.

And the fact that, as he shivered in the cold, Peter’s thoughts drifted to an image of a couch in front of a fireplace. Of a thick blanket, and a woman with gentle hands and a cheeky smile that draped it over his shoulders. And the warmth of her arms when he sunk into them.

Peter held on to that thought even if he didn’t understand it; he needed all the warmth he could get. It was going to be a long night.

-----

Many miles away, another group of people were having a long night of their own.

May Parker sat glued to the holo-screens of the Compound control room. The others had drifted in and out throughout the night, sometimes keeping her company, sometimes taking care of other important matters. Sam and Rhodes had just returned from the lake house a couple of hours ago. After a while, Tony and Pepper excused themselves to the Compound living quarters, to tuck Morgan in for the night. Dr. Banner, May knew, was still awake in the lab, with Barnes working closely beside him.

It was nice knowing how the team pulled together after the night’s distressing events. But that comfort was dampened in May’s mind, knowing the contrast to Peter’s current situation. Her kid was alone, he was cold, and his spider DNA meant he couldn’t thermoregulate as well as other humans. May knew every shaky breath that her nephew took.

Because displayed on the screens in front of her, were Peter’s vitals.

“Hey,” a voice greeted, and Tony walked in, two mugs and a plate in hand. “Care for company?”

May nodded at him. “Only if you brought coffee.”

Tony handed her one of the mugs, and they sat in silence for a while, monitoring the screens.

After a few minutes Tony offered, “You can turn in, you know. I’ll take a shift.”

May clenched his jaw. “Not tonight.”

Tony nodded understandingly and took a sip from his own mug. “Pep and Morgan are sleeping, but I couldn’t. I kept thinking… anything else we could have done tonight…”

May shook her head. “You and Pepper piloted the suits as soon as you could, Tony. And this microchip, I'm thankful you had the foresight pre-programming FRIDAY to inject it in Peter’s arm along with the sedative.”

“It could be giving us more than this. I’ve been trying the whole night, May, but the tracking signal’s still being deflected. These vitals are all we can get for now.”

“More than we had yesterday. Tonight’s not a night for beating yourself up.”

Tony sighed. “I just need to clear my head.” He traced the line on the screen, tracking the slow rise and fall of Peter's heart rate. “And I don’t want him to be alone.”

May didn’t answer, only gazed at the monitored vitals—such impersonal graphs, and yet the only connection they had to Peter now.

After another long pause, Tony held out the plate he’d brought in, and May noticed for the first time what it contained: a few slices of cake, the remains of their interrupted party in May’s apartment earlier this evening.

Tony handed her a fork. “Happy birthday, Peter,” he said sadly.

May sighed as she reached for the plate. “Happy birthday, Peter.”

----- Chapter 3: The Tower -----

There are moments in life that change a person, even if they don’t realize it until later. That night at the lake house changed Peter Parker. He knew, even before they marched him into the debriefing room for further questioning, he was no longer fit for his team.

Peter had slept fitfully that cold night, but in what snatches of sleep he had been able to grab, he dreamt of that woman by the fireplace. Peter woke up fully convinced he had been dreaming of his mother.

And when he couldn’t sleep, he thought of the man from his flashbacks—nightmares—whatever they were. The man who gave him advice on how to fight killer robots. Who sent a suit to save him from drowning. Tony Stark, the Avenger, the enemy.

That was all Peter knew for sure: the enemy, the mission, the team, Hydra. Nothing beyond that. For the first time, Peter asked himself why.

Why he had nightmares of being held down on a table, electricity coursing through his body, screaming. Why those thoughts always left him shaking, when the echoes of Tony Stark’s voice in his head did not. Why the War Machine at the warehouse, and the suits at the lake, took more care with him than his team ever did.

Peter must have had a life before this. Before missions. Before electrocution sessions and cold nights lying alone. Before Hydra.

And that night, Peter knew he had to leave.

-----

He held on to that resolve all throughout the questioning.

"Last night you said the suit stopped you at the pier. But you had a considerable head start. Why were you not able to get away?"

"The sedative had kicked in by then, sir," Peter lied.

"But you told us the drug's effects only started to take hold as you were drowning."

"I misremembered, sir," Peter lied.

On and on it went. Peter dodged, and maneuvered, and hoped it was enough to keep him from punishment. Or worse, from being reprogrammed, and having to start clawing his way back up all over again.

Just when he thought the interview was over, Peter's commander took a small black spider emblem out of his pocket. "Do you know what this is, Parker?"

"A hidden microchip, sir." Peter gulped. "I made the mistake of forgetting it at the old base. I was punished."

"This microchip came from a suit," the other man continued, circling around Peter. "A very expensive piece of Stark tech. With very impressive capabilities. You are helping us rebuild the software to control it, and many others like it. That was your mission."

"Yes, sir."

Peter caught the exact moment when his commander's eyes darkened. "You lost sight of your mission, soldier."

Without warning, the man slapped the metal spider on the back of Peter's head. The legs extended, wrapping around the sides of Peter's face, and he shouted in pain as a burst of electricity shot out of them. Peter fell to his knees.

His commander continued circling him like a hawk, unbothered. "You need to be reminded."

-----

Bucky and Bruce ran into the control room where Tony was waiting. The holo-screens with Peter's vitals displayed irregular peaks in his brain activity, the implications of which the three men knew very well.

"How long has this—"

"Ten minutes," Tony answered quickly. "Not stopping."

Bucky stared closely at the graphs. "Doesn't seem to be a high voltage."

"Bursts of current, too, not steady," Bruce added.

Tony braced himself to ask. "So this isn't reprogramming?"

"It looks closer to—to torture, Tony," Bruce replied.

Suddenly Bucky turned to the other two men. "That's good," he realized. Tony stared daggers at him, and Bucky put up a hand. "Hydra doesn't double back. They wouldn't be doing this if they could simply wipe Peter's memories instead."

"So they torture him for what? For punishment?"

"It's severely affecting his brain, Tony," Bruce said in a neutral voice, eyes still locked on the screens. "There are other ways to punish a guy. No, this is a calculated move."

"When brainwashing doesn't work… There are other ways to make people do what you want," Bucky said darkly.

"That's the second time you said—brainwashing not working, not wiping Peter's memories," Tony said, deep in thought. His head snapped up when he realized the answer to his own question. "Because it takes too long."

"I think so, too. This—this is a desperate move," Bruce said. "They still need Peter, but they also need to strike soon. I mean, we're closing in on them from all angles, Rhodey's still hounding their decryption signal, Sam got some good shots at their jet last night."

"My best guess?" Bucky pointed at the screens. "Mind control. The brute kind."

Tony clenched his shaking fists. “How do we combat the brute kind?”

Bucky took a breath before responding, “Head-on.”

The three men fell quiet, watching each other, watching the screens. Tony could almost imagine Peter’s screams with every peak of the tracker. And yet in this room it was eerily, almost completely silent.

Finally it ended. Peter’s neural readings returned to normal. Everyone took a collective breath.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Where do we start? We have a good guess where they’re hitting next.”

Tony exhaled as he stood up. His mind was in a whirlwind, save one grounding point, one last hope, and he let that thought steady his feet. “Keep an eye on the kid for me. There’s something I need to do.” And he strode out of the room.

-----

“Keep an eye on the kid.” The quinjet door shut, and they were off.

Peter sat clad in his usual black suit and mask. Beside him, three of his teammates checked and double-checked everyone’s parachutes. For the first time on a mission, Peter was not going alone. Because for the first time on a mission, Hydra no longer trusted him.

They had good reason not to.

The metal spider was still attached to the back of Peter’s head, under his mask. How his teammates reacted to the new implement was fairly revealing. Gone were the intimidation tactics, the threats, the constant reminders of his past mistakes. Now the Hydra agents ordered him about without even pretending he was anything more than an expendable asset, with no choice but to obey.

They had good reason to.

“Two minutes from the drop zone. Get up, kid.”

And it was “kid” now, not “soldier.” Peter delayed one second before standing up.

Zap.

The electrocution from the spider emblem wasn’t strong enough to incapacitate him, but hell did it hurt. Peter stumbled and barely caught himself from falling to his knees.

“Fuck, commander,” the agent spoke into his comms. “It was only a second.”

“Just a little reminder.” Peter heard the voice in his earpiece, too. “But he won’t be needing much reminders once the mission starts. Will you, Parker?”

“No, sir.” Peter grit his teeth.

Zap, came a second shock. Then a third, fourth, fifth, in quick succession.

“A primitive solution. But fast. And effective.”

Peter was on his hands and knees in the interrogation room, the commander circling him like he was prey.

“You will not disobey. You will not even think of disobeying.”

Another wave, stronger this time, and Peter screamed on the floor.

“What is best is you comply.”

Peter shut his eyes at the memory, at the pain. “I’m fully compliant, sir.”

Ten seconds into the drop zone, they jumped. Peter gaped at the twinkling lights of New York City only for a moment, then focused his mind on the task at hand. Namely, not dying. Using his senses, Peter adjusted his course and that of the three Hydra agents with him, avoiding the overhead sensors that only he could detect. Soon they all landed smoothly on the rooftop of their target skyscraper.

“First phase, good,” his teamma— one of the Hydra agents, said. “Now the security, kid.”

Peter had a hunch for this, knowing just where to strike, what codes to input into his tablet to disable security. Almost as if he were intimately acquainted with the source program itself. It was how he had snuck into the Compound on that first mission. However—Peter stared at the red alert on the tablet screen—this wasn’t the same as the Compound.

“What the hell?” another agent looked at the error message on the tablet over Peter’s shoulder.

“It—I—this must be the other program,” Peter stammered. “The one from the lake house. I can’t get in.” Peter braced himself, but no electric shock came from the spider-metal on the back of his head. So the commander knew he wasn’t lying.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the on-screen alert disappeared. “Security disabled” flashed on Peter’s tablet.

“There you go. What did you do?”

“I—nothing,” Peter answered truthfully. Something pricked at his senses. A feeling of being watched, and not just by the man controlling an electrocution machine on Peter’s head. Strangely enough, that feeling of someone else watching him gave Peter a sense of assurance more than danger. But he fought those thoughts down and took a deep breath. “Alright, we’re clear. Let’s go.”

The cold night air blew around them as they made their way across the rooftop. Peter typed in some more commands, unlocked a door, and in no time at all, the four Hydra agents had breached the Avengers Tower.

-----

Something was wrong.

Peter led the team through dark halls, weapons at the ready, but they encountered no one in the whole building. Just like they’d encountered no one on the ride down the elevator. And saw no one in any of the multiple rooms they passed.

Something was wrong.

“I see your heart rate picking up,” the commander’s voice said in Peter’s ear. “Even from my comfortable seat, this is all starting to look uncomfortably like a trap. If you had any part in this…”

Peter didn’t. He could swear he didn’t, but he kept silent, continuing to lead the agents down the hall, and bracing for another burst of pain to his skull. The commander never set off the device, though, and Peter breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Until they reached the building’s main control room. Peter unlocked the door. One man stayed posted outside as a lookout, and Peter and the two other agents entered.

At first the room seemed like the rest of the Tower, empty, dark. But that was just the problem. Too empty. Too dark.

“Something’s wrong,” barely registered in Peter’s mind, when the attack began.

The bullets came from out of nowhere, shooting straight for the three other Hydra agents, and electro-shocking them to unconsciousness. The lookout recovered quickly and made to enter the room, when the door automatically shut in his face. Then, for good measure, another round of shocking bullets was fired at the two agents lying on the ground. And Peter was left alone with their attacker.

At first, not knowing where the firing came from, Peter merely braced himself in the middle of the room, ready to dodge the bullets when they came. But nothing ever shot at him. Now with the other agents knocked out in the dark, Peter faced the unknown enemy, relying only on his senses. He had just located the new figure in the room, and readied his web shooters to strike back, when the lights suddenly turned on.

A high-pitched tone came on with the lights. Peter crouched on the ground, arms up to protect both his eyes and ears against the sudden onslaught. He felt all his senses torn apart, compromised. And then the unknown figure stepped in front of him.

The high-pitched sound stopped. A faint whine remained in Peter’s ears, but through it he could just make out a man’s voice speaking to him. That man’s voice. The one from the lake house, from his dreams.

“Peter?” Tony Stark repeated, holding out a metal hand.

Peter shoved it away and leapt back, getting shakily to his feet. Holding out both arms in a defensive position, Peter caught his breath, and for the first time took a good look at his assailant.

It looked like the first red suit, the one from the garage. The one Peter had destroyed in the lake. But this one was undamaged, and still holding out a hand to Peter in what was probably supposed to be a calming gesture.

“Hey, FRIDAY,” Peter panted, his chest still pounding. “New suit?”

“I have a lot of suits. One of them saved you, if you recall, right after you ditched the first one in the lake.”

Peter grit his teeth. Of course he knew one of the suits—of course he knew Tony Stark, and the woman driving the purple suit, had saved his life that night. But things had changed. He couldn’t afford to think about it, to think about that fateful night at all, not with an electric killing machine stuck to the back of his brain.

“Look, man. I’m getting what I came for, and you can’t stop me any more than you could last time. Just throw in the towel and walk away now.” Peter’s voice shook.

“Tonight’s not gonna be like last time,” Tony replied determinedly.

“Walk. Away. Or I’ll wreck this suit, too, just like last time—”

“Tonight’s not gonna be like last time,” Tony repeated louder. And then he did something Peter never expected.

The suit retracted. Nano-tech particles moved in waves, draining like water in a sink towards the reactor casing in the middle of the suit. Until the only thing left standing in front of Peter, was not a metal suit, but a person.

“Peter Parker,” Tony said, taking a step forward, “tonight we’re taking you home.”

-----

Peter froze. The night he spent dreaming of the woman by the fireplace raced through his mind. Yet now, being offered the exact thing he had wanted then, Peter had no idea how to respond.

“Take me home? I want to, but there’s a killing machine on my head.”

“I want to, but there’s a Hydra jet nearby that could attack any second.”

“I want to, if I knew where home was.”

“I want to.”

“I want to, but...”

Peter’s lips seemed to move of their own accord. “I can’t,” he said in a small voice.

Tony’s eyes widened at Peter’s change in demeanor. He took another step closer. “You… okay. Okay, you know that high tone earlier? Messed up your comms. Hydra can’t hear us, at least for the moment. Peter… let me help.”

Peter ripped off his mask, and threw it to the floor between him and Tony. His hands shook, his lips shook. “He’ll kill me!” He turned his head, showing off the metal device stuck to the back. “If either of us tries anything, he’ll kill me.”

Tony took one good look at it and cursed. Then he stopped, as if listening to something on his own comms.

“I’m supposed to kill you,” Peter said. Tony’s head snapped up. “Those were my orders, if—if anyone interfered. And he can make me do it, too—”

“Kid—”

“He can make me do anything, I know, he tested it out—”

“Calm down, we’ll think of something—”

“I take you down, or my damn brain is toast!”

“You’re not dying!” Tony clenched his jaw, hand still outstretched towards Peter. “Not tonight, not on my watch.”

Peter shook his head. The familiar ache was starting to build again, the humming between his ears. “I don’t feel so good,” he choked out.

Tony froze. And then the older man must have said something in response—his lips were moving—but suddenly all Peter could hear, all he could focus on, was the commander’s voice in his ear.

“You know what to do, soldier.” The threat in his tone was clear.

“I’m sorry,” Peter rasped. And then he lunged forward.

-----

It was never a fair fight.

Tony summoned his suit back, but not before Peter got a couple of good hits in him. Knocked down on the floor, he saw his own electroshock bullets hurtling towards him from Peter’s gun, and Tony rolled away with milliseconds to spare. God, retirement had taken its toll.

“Peter…” Tony groaned, getting up on his knees. He was met with a kick to the chest.

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice echoed in his helmet. “Tony, you need to get close enough to—”

“Yeah, I know, I’m trying!” He rolled again, and the chair Peter swung crashed into the floor where Tony had just been.

It was never a fair fight.

Tony flew up and around Peter. “FRIDAY, lights out!” As darkness fell, Tony approached from behind, his targeting locked on to the device behind Peter’s head, it was within his sight—

Peter turned and fired a shocking bullet straight at him.

As Tony fell to the floor, shaking with the electricity, he realized just how close Peter had come to killing him, if he had really tried. But the electroshock bullets—a few kicks—a damn chair—Peter wasn’t really trying, was he?

It was never a fair fight.

“No,” Tony heard Peter say, as the kid stepped closer to his prone form. “No, look, Stark’s out, I swear that shock was strong enough, I—”

And then it happened. Through his HUD, Tony saw the sudden heat signature that exploded behind Peter’s head, the electronic signal, the way the kid’s body convulsed. Peter fell to his knees.

“No!” Tony screamed. Peter turned, his eyes met Tony’s—and for the first time Tony saw all the fear behind them.

It was never a fair fight. Tony was battling Peter. But Peter had to fight both the Avenger and Hydra.

Slowly, Tony got up. And he did the only thing he could think of to help his kid. He leaped forward and tackled Peter to the ground.

Peter rolled with the hit, pinning Tony under him—he’d really forgotten how strong the kid was—and Peter sent punch after punch flying. Never to the head, though—even Tony realized that. But as their fight continued, as Tony got pummeled, the shocks to Peter’s brain stopped. And for now that was all Tony wanted.

“Sam, how’s it going on your end?” Tony hissed.

“Almost there, keep him busy!” Sam replied through the comms.

Another solid hit to his suit. “Sure as hell trying to!” Needing a break, Tony turned his thrusters on and slid off from under Peter, hovering some way above the floor. Tony heard the whoosh of web shooters and he narrowly dodged Peter slamming into him mid-air.

“Hey! Flying is cheating!” Peter hollered as he passed. Tony recognized it for what it was, though—a call to keep Tony aware of Peter’s location in the darkness.

Tony wondered, not for the first time since that night at the lake house, how much of the old Peter was starting to come back. And whether it would take sooner than anticipated to restore the rest of him.

Assuming they could Peter through the night at all.

Keep the kid safe now, worry about the memories later, Tony chided himself. He turned the lights of his suit on, a beacon for Peter to spot. “Just trying to keep the fight fair!” Tony called out, and he braced himself for impact.

-----

“Rhodey! Your 3 o’clock—”

“I see him,” Rhodey said through the comms. “Coming in hot.”

Sam locked the quinjet on his targeting system and increased speed. “Approaching from the back end.”

“Good. Let’s get this son of a bitch, Cap.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll race ya.”

-----

Tony dodged yet another of Peter’s swinging kicks. “Sam! Update?”

“They’re almost at the jet, Tony!” Bucky answered for him. “The rest of us are preparing to storm the base. When we get the commander, and Sam and Rhodey get the quinjet, it’s over. Just you and the kid now, Stark, hang on.”

Peter swung again; Tony decided to let this one hit. They’d been playing this cat-and-mouse game for a while now, with fewer and fewer shocks coming to the device on Peter’s head. Tony could only hope Hydra would buy the facade to the end.

“You hear that, Pete?” Tony whispered to himself. “Just hang on.”

-----

Hydra held out to the end. But the Winter Soldier, and the team of Avengers he led, captured the base eventually. Bucky stormed into their control room and pinned the commander to the wall without slowing a step.

“Kill switch!” he demanded. Too late; the commander popped a pill, and died foaming from the mouth.

“It’s gotta be here…” Bruce scoured the panels and screens. “Tony said he had a finger on Peter’s button the whole time, it’s gotta be here!”

Then the screens blazed red. An alarm blared throughout the captured base.

And up on the main screen, the countdown started.

-----

“Wilson! Rhodey!” the urgent call came through their earpieces.

“Bruce, we got the jet!” Rhodey replied. “Crew’s secure, we’re flying back—”

“No, abort!” Bruce shouted. “They tripped self-destruct on all assets! We’re evacuating the base, crash the plane in the water and get out of there!”

Rhodey and Sam made to clear the plane they’d just taken over, when Rhodey suddenly realized something. “Wait, all assets?” he said into the comms. “Self-destructing all assets?”

“Everything’s set to blow!”

Rhodey stopped dead in his tracks. “What about Peter?”

-----

“Peter!” Tony yelled.

They had just been exchanging half-hearted blows, when the kid suddenly crumpled to the floor, clutching his head. FRIDAY immediately turned the lights back on and Tony rushed to Peter’s side.

“FRIDAY, talk to me!”

“It’s a different signal, Boss,” FRIDAY replied quickly. “Current’s going steady!”

Peter curled into a fetal position, a scream ripped from his throat.

“Cap!” Tony shouted.

“Tony! Barnes deactivated Peter’s manual kill switch. But we got another problem, the device has a self-destruct too, and it’s been tripped! You’ve got three minutes to—”

Tony tuned the rest out. As Peter continued writhing on the floor, Tony knelt and placed one suited hand behind the device on Peter’s head.

“It’s locked tight!” FRIDAY reported. “You can’t get it off in time without damaging the neural links.”

“Or setting the bomb off early,” Tony bit out. Below him, Peter screamed.

Tony stared at the electrocution device. That black metal torturing his kid, cruelly and ironically shaped like a spider itself. Tony stared. Shaped like a spider.

“FRIDAY…?”

“Yes,” FRIDAY answered like she’d read his mind. “It’s from the suit he was wearing when he was captured, modified, of course.”

The answer fell neatly in place in Tony’s mind. “Then it’s a good thing I brought backup.” He held his hand out, and a smooth metal disk flew at him from where Tony had stashed it in the room.

“Tones!” Rhodey’s voice. “Two minutes!”

Tony leaned over Peter’s still twitching body. “Peter, look at me. Look at me, kid. I need you to trust me.” Peter looked up, fear and tears and pain in his eyes. “Trust me,” Tony repeated, laying the metal disk on Peter’s chest. The kid didn’t fight him, and almost imperceptibly, Peter nodded.

Tony activated the disk.

-----

Peter’s head felt on fire. Peter’s chest felt cold.

In his head, the current ripped through everything, memories and feelings and pain. On his chest, the metal disk spread out, crawling like ants but cool on his burning skin.

His head felt like it would burst. The spreading metal on his chest held him together.

Until the cool metal wasn’t only on Peter’s chest anymore—until it was all over him, covering his body. Covering the electrocutor on his head.

Fire fought cold, and Peter screamed.

He heard Tony shouting. He heard the ticking of a countdown clock on the back of his head.

He heard the click.

And Peter passed out.

-----

Peter passed out in Tony’s arms. Tony cradled the body close to his chest, listening for his breathing, feeling for the pulse that would tell him whether his world had just fallen apart in his arms.

“Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice came an eternity later, “vitals holding steady.”

Tony exhaled the weight of a planet off his lungs, and lay his head down on top of Peter’s. “I got you, kid.” Breathing in, out. The nanotech Spider-Man suit deactivated, and as the helmet retracted, the electrocution device dropped cleanly from Peter’s head. Tony held his kid closer. “I got you.”

----- Chapter 4: Home -----

The Compound was peaceful in the mornings.

Early sunlight filtered in through the windows, the gold just hitting the green of the treetops. And it was quiet. Where the screens and beeping vitals monitors had felt like intruders in the night, in the morning their presence was subdued, making it easier to hear the bedridden person being monitored when he began to stir.

The moment her nephew opened his eyes, May was right by his side.

He struggled for words, she couldn’t come up with anything to say, so between the two of them it was silent for a while. Finally Peter spoke. “You’re… you’re the woman from my dreams.” Peter furrowed his brow. “I want to say… Mom… but somehow it doesn’t fit.”

May took his hand. “I’m your Aunt May, Peter. It’s… it’s good to have you back.”

“I don’t know—I don’t know if I’m back. I still…” Peter shut his eyes. “The dreams and nightmares… and the memories… they come in pieces. I—I don’t know my whole life yet. Or even… who I am.”

“We’ll help you. The whole team will help you.” May smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Peter’s forehead. “To start—your name is Peter Parker. And you’re my kid.”

The two of them spent the whole morning together. The Compound was peaceful in the mornings.

-----

Peter pieced it together, slowly.

His aunt was named May Parker. The man monitoring his recovery from the incident at the Tower, was Bruce. And the other frequent visitor to Peter’s room was already familiar. The person who saved his life, who his aunt bantered easily with, and who always brought them both some kind of hot beverage, that was Tony Stark.

It was Tony who sat with May at Peter’s bedside, filling in the gaps. Tony who explained the kidnapping, the brainwashing, their search. Tony who always reminded Peter to take his recovery easy, and always looked at him with such warmth.

There were others on the team, too. The first time Peter was able to leave the medbay, a man introducing himself as Sam led him to the shared living quarters. Another guy, Rhodey, dropped beside him on the couch and passed him some pizza, and Peter recognized his voice from the fight at the warehouse. They ended up having a good laugh about it.

He met Pepper. And Morgan. Even got reacquainted with FRIDAY.

And Bucky Barnes. Though usually quiet, the man turned out to be among the most outspokenly encouraging about Peter’s recuperation. “It gets better, kid. I know the memories come back in pieces, and it can be frustrating.” He had a faraway look in his eyes, and Peter could tell the man made an effort to make his tone light. “It’s a long road. But… believe me, it gets better.”

-----

It did get better. But not all at once.

Along with memories of tinkering in the lab, came memories of being strapped to a table. Along with dreams of warm fireplaces in a cozy apartment, came nightmares of the burning electricity in Peter’s head.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when Peter dreamed about the Tower, about beating the enemy up, except this time Peter didn’t pull his punches. And when he drew back he would be staring at Tony’s bloodied face. Or Bucky’s. Or Sam’s. Or May’s.

One night, suffocated by his own mind, Peter escaped to the Compound rooftop. A lone metal bench sat under the stars; Peter drifted towards it. He hadn’t been sitting there long when he sensed footsteps behind him, and turned to see Tony in the doorway.

“Just checking in,” the older man said. “Your aunt woke up and you weren’t there, she thought maybe you were with me in the workshop…”

Peter shuffled his feet. “Sorry. I sneaked away and didn’t want to disturb her.”

“Okay.” Tony lingered awkwardly. “It’s fine. Um. I’ll go. Do you want me to call May, or…”

Peter paused. He found he didn’t really want to call May, not right now. But he didn’t want to be alone, either.

“You always up this late?” Peter found himself asking instead.

“I guess so.” Tony shrugged. “Old habit.”

“Me too,” Peter replied. As he said it, he wondered if it was true about himself. Really, he was just saying what he thought might get Tony to stay.

Tony looked at him for a moment, tilting his head. Then, as if he’d read his mind, Tony sat down on the bench beside Peter. And for the next few hours, Tony stayed.

They sat quietly for a while, lost in their own thoughts, but it was a familiar kind of silence. One that made Peter feel safe. He plucked up the courage to speak several minutes later. “Mr. Stark?” Peter said. He didn’t know why the more formal address somehow felt more comfortable than ‘Tony,’ which was what Peter had been calling him lately. For some reason it just did. Tony turned his head, but if he noticed the change, he didn’t comment on it. “Mr. Stark,” Peter continued, “what happened back at the Tower? Really?”

Tony furrowed his brows. “We, uh, we fought, Pete. And then Hydra tripped the self-destruct on the device around your head, and…”

“Yeah, and you got it off, and then I passed out.” Peter fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie. “You told me. But how did you get it off, exactly?”

“Oh.” Tony leaned back against the bench. “I missed that part, huh.”

“Oh, I thought of another—why, why was that device shaped like a spider?”

Peter could tell Tony weighed his words carefully before answering. “It came from a suit. A specific, uh. Spider-Man’s suit.”

“Spider-Man?”

“Yeah.”

“So the thing you used to get it off…”

Tony nodded. “That was Spider-Man’s slightly older suit. Same signature, so the override worked.”

“He seems to have a lot of suits.”

“Yeah,” Tony chuckled. “Yeah, real tinkerer, that one.”

“It spread from my chest, felt like ants crawling on me.”

“That would be the nano-particles. I helped with that part, but the rest of it, all his handiwork. He’s very capable that way. Skilled guy.”

“Yeah.” Peter looked down. “Yeah, I bet. No wonder Hydra wanted him.”

Tony stiffened beside Peter. After a moment Peter felt a hand on his shoulder. “We were gonna tell you, Pete. Eventually. But doctors said to go slow on the whole memory thing and… I, I wasn’t quite sure how to break that gently, to be honest.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s okay. Not that hard to figure out. My senses, plus the memories that name brought up…” He took a breath. “And, I mean, the Avengers. You guys are, you’re Earth’s mightiest heroes or whatever. Why… why else would you all be so hell-bent on saving me?”

“What do you—because you’re one of us,” Tony said firmly. “Not because of what you can do.”

Peter didn’t answer. After several weeks fighting for a team that only seemed to care about what Peter could do, he didn’t seem to know how to answer.

“Is—is this what this is about? What keeps you up at night?” Tony pushed. “You’re wondering why you were worthy?”

Peter fiddled with his zipper, with the hem of his hoodie, anything to keep his fingers moving. “I hacked into your databases,” Peter said in a small voice.

“We dealt with that damage, Peter.”

“I wrecked your garage, your suit—”

“Things can be replaced.”

“And I beat you up pretty good.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony laughed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one.”

The laugh disarmed Peter. He turned to meet Tony’s eyes, but he found no unkindness or mockery there—only sincerity behind the outer humor. Peter couldn’t help but smile too.

“Hey, I should thank you. I don’t get much exercise in retirement,” Tony quipped.

“Semi-retirement,” Peter blurted. That made both him and Tony stop. “You’re… only semi-retired,” Peter continued uncertainly. “You, um. You’re my…” But Peter's burst of memory failed; it only ever reached so far.

“Mentor,” Tony supplied when Peter trailed off. “Occasional tech support. Substitute Guy in the Chair…”

“Old man?” Peter joked.

Tony snorted. “Disaster child. Never change.” Then Tony’s eyes softened, and he lowered his voice. “You are a part of this team, Peter. Everything we put on the line was worth it. Everything. Because it got you home.”

Peter breathed deeply, and let it out in a long sigh. Slowly, he leaned against Tony’s side, and Tony put an arm around his shoulders. Peter found he fit in Tony’s arms like a puzzle piece. Like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.

“I wish I could remember more,” Peter admitted quietly, when he was good and settled in Tony’s embrace. “I wish I could remember faster. Or I wish… I’d never forgotten in the first place.”

Tony hugged him a little tighter. “We’ll be here to remind you.”

-----

They reminded him. And slowly, Peter recovered. Slowly, Peter remembered.

-----

They held a second birthday party at May’s apartment a few days later. Complete with streamers, red and blue balloons, and—

“Chocolate cake. Always chocolate cake, and you always bake it yourself,” Peter remembered.

May smiled as she kissed Peter’s temple, and handed him a slice.

-----

Peter eased slowly back into training, too.

“You wanna deflect the knife like this, and remember to—”

Peter broke Bucky off when he executed the move perfectly, ending with him pinning his sparring partner to the ground. Sam laughed and flashed a thumbs-up from the sidelines.

“I remember,” Peter realized, grinning.

-----

“Every other weekend? I used to hang out with the Tony Stark every other weekend?”

“Until stupid college got in the way,” Tony groused playfully. He handed Peter a wrench for the reinforced garage door they were installing.

“Still can’t believe I go to MIT,” Peter said as he tightened the screws.

“Yeah. When you’re ready to go back, treat Ned and Michelle to a big movie night or something, whatever you kids do for fun. They can't wait to see you again.” Tony looked up from his toolbox. “Do you remember…?” he said tentatively.

Peter nodded. He did remember, bits and pieces—laughter with a childhood friend, stolen moments with a girl he admired. All on their own, Peter’s cheeks began to blush.

Tony grinned. “Yeah. Thought you did.”

-----

There were some things, though, that were Peter’s very own. And that he had to rediscover on his own.

“How’s it feel?” Tony asked, as Peter donned the Spider-Man suit for the first time in months.

Peter tested it out: stretched his arms, fiddled with the web shooters, said hi to Karen. “It—it’s perfect, Mr. Stark,” he said when he was finished. “Thank you.”

Tony slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and walked with him across the Tower rooftop. “Alright. This one you’ll have to figure back out on your own. But you did it before, and you’ll do it again.” Tony smiled. “Spider-Man.”

Peter perched on the edge of the roof, feeling the wind on his suit, the rush of his senses. The feeling of being back where he belonged.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man. This was his to remember. This was his to reclaim.

“Stay safe,” he heard Tony whisper, as the older man backed off from the edge.

Peter turned to him. “Tony?”

Tony looked up at him, and Peter paused to relish that short moment. For all the time they’d spent together lately, this was different. This was special. This was them, back in their old mentor-mentee groove. And it felt good.

“I, I just wanted to say—” Peter started, and he grinned. “I still think ‘official Avenger-Guardian of NYC’ should be a thing. And it definitely ranks higher than Iron Man.”

Tony’s dropped jaw, and his mock-offended face, was the last thing Peter saw as he shot a web and swung down over his city.

Spider-Man had returned.

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #friendly neighborhood exchange #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #fanfic #jelly's

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riderunlove · 3 years ago

Text

Guns and Ghosts 10/?

Sometimes, no matter how badly you want it, bringing someone home just isn’t quite enough.

Medical cleared Luke- unable to justify keeping him. Trevor had argued it wasn’t safe to let him wander around, but Julie and Alex had convinced him it would be alright. Reggie hadn’t been able to speak past the anger choking him. They’d spent over a year searching for Luke and Trevor wanted to throw him back in a cell? They had no idea how Caleb had done what he’d done to him, but locking him up wouldn’t help them figure it out nor would it help him get better. Now an untouchable shadow haunted the base, and it set Reggie’s teeth on edge. He’d slept badly, and stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes after 5. There was already coffee in the pot. It had to be from yesterday. He’d warm it up and start over. He blindly groped for a mug and picked up the carafe, it was steaming. No one else is up. What the heck? He took a sip, the need for caffeine overriding his caution- it was just the way he liked it. Only one person made coffee this good. “Luke?” He called softly. Nothing. He scoffed at himself, then nearly dropped his precious coffee when he turned around.

“We need to get you a bell,” he joked.

“Defeats the point of stealth.”

“Keeps me out of an early grave,” he returned with a grin. Instinct had him reaching to lay his elbow on Luke’s shoulder, but he froze as his brother backed away from him. The blank mask cracked for a brief moment, replaced by fear.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Luke vanished in a flash of light. Reggie’s stomach turned, surely Luke hadn’t thought he would strike him. Maybe he’d just moved too quickly.

Feeling off balance, Reggie took his coffee and headed for the music room. It would be empty at this hour, and playing would help him translate the ball of emotions lodged in his throat.

As he slipped inside he realized the room was quiet but not empty. He switched on the lights and the shadow was gone. It’d been lingering in front of the guitars. Reggie blew out a deep sigh and picked up Luke’s 6 string. The low E kept going flat, he’d been tuning it for months now but it wouldn’t hold. Likely because tuning and playing weren’t the same thing. Still, it needed to be ready when his friend was.

Alex wandered into the gym to find a small crowd. He weaved through, stopping next to Bobby, who had returned when he’d heard what happened. Reggie and Luke were squaring up on the sparring mat. Reggie was drenched in sweat and panting like he’d been sprinting, Luke looked like he could go several more rounds. Reggie moved first, and in 3 moves it was over. Reggie sprawled out on his back and Luke stood tense, as if he was expecting a blow. Too fast. Not human. Alex’s brain whispered.

“C’mon, you know that’s not fair.” Reggie whined. He raised his hand, expecting help but Luke didn’t move.

“Help a guy out, “ Reggie pleaded and almost before he finished the sentence Luke pulled him to standing. “Express elevator. I’m definitely done now,” he joked warmly. Luke looked tense, suspicious.

“Show’s over,” Alex snapped, assuming the crowd was the problem. It didn’t help. If anything, as everyone filed out, Luke looked even more like a cornered animal.

Alex caught Julie’s worried gaze, and forced a comforting smile. Normal Luke would have been bouncing around, excitedly recounting the ridiculous match looking for a compliment from Julie; current Luke resembled a statue expecting an attack.

“Winner picks dinner, what do you want me to make?” Reggie queried, trying again to engage his friend.

“Anything is fine,” the response was hesitant.

Reggie nodded, considering.

Alex knew he’d make one of Luke’s favorites.

“This is so weird,” Bobby shook his head. “He’s quiet, and still. How many times over the years did you beg for him to just shut up? And to stop fidgeting. Looks like you finally got what you wanted.” Bobby quipped.

Alex knew he was trying to lighten the mood, that it was a joke, but guilt flooded him anyway. He had wished for that many times when Luke’s enthusiasm scraped wrongly against his anxiety, but “Not like this. Never like this.”

Julie didn’t know how to do this. Her and Luke’s interactions had always been charged in a warm way, tension fizzling pleasantly and bringing butterflies to her stomach. Sometimes she’d needed to remind herself to pay attention or she’d get lost in his eyes. When Dante had mockingly told them not to give him many choices, she had assumed the implication was that he might be dangerous and laughed it off. The actual meaning was so much worse.

Ever since they’d returned and medical had released him, Luke had gravitated towards her, followed her around like a silent shadow. No teasing, no borderline flirting, just a watchful presence. Flynn joined her for lunch and kept shooting her odd looks, she just rolled her eyes.

“Go away, “ she told Luke. He vanished with a soft pop. None of the usual arguing, or silly justifications. Her stomach sank, but she convinced herself it was just a coincidence.

That afternoon, she felt her concentration slipping as she worked on a mission report that was 6 months overdue. The man sitting in the corner staring at nothing much more interesting than the old op. “I need coffee,” she muttered to herself.

5 mins later a mug appeared next to her elbow as if by magic. Fixed just the way she liked it, 2 creams. “Thank you,” she whispered, giving him a soft smile.

A hint of confusion leaked through the blankness, but he merely nodded and returned to his seat.

“You didn’t want any?” She asked. She didn’t get a reply. By dinner the silent guard dog act was wearing her last nerve. She made a plate from the counter and went to join the others at the table but Luke hadn’t touched anything. She shoved her plate at him and snapped “You have to eat something. I haven’t seen you eat all day.” Then she made another plate for herself. He made quick work of clearing the plate, even eating the brussel sprouts she knew he hated, and a seed of fear bloomed in her gut, but she forced it away. She glanced at Alex and the concern on his face showed he’d noticed as well.

That night she had a dream of a ‘before’ moment, when their family was well and Luke gently called her boss.

Days bled into a routine until Trevor called an emergency meeting- that Luke was not invited to attend.

“No semi corporeal beings allowed,” Reggie joked at the door. Luke turned to face Julie, as if expecting an order. Her heart clenched.

“Go do whatever you want.” She told him.

The uncertainty on his face made her eyes sting, but he finally nodded and vanished.

Carrie and Nick had found the files. Medical had a way to fix the flickering. Those were the good things. That’s what she would focus on rather than the realization of what she’d become to Luke. The terrible pity on Alex’s face and the naked fear on Reggie’s. When he was better she’d tell him she wanted a new nickname- she was never letting him call her boss again.

#all aboard the pain train #one of you is responsible for this #you know who you are #i'm sorry #it gets better after this i promise #jatp #winter soldier au #mere pretends to write sometimes

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years ago

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Small Time Witch (15)

The water in the stream lapped at its banks swelling from the melting mountain snow. You and Bethany brought out sand bags and placed them around the perimeter of the house. How high the water rose depended on the snowfall. It always flooded in the bend of the stream which is why you never understood why Helene built here. “Rushing water holds energy. It amplifies everything we do.” It also amplified the chance that you’d be redoing the floors in a few weeks.

“Why can’t your mother just use her powers? This would be a lot easier.” Bethany would ask as she dropped another bag.

“Because there are consequences to us using our powers which is why I was shipped off.”

“And here I thought it was so you didn’t face prosecution for almost killing Bobby.” You flicked mud at her.

“I didn’t almost kill him. He was fine.” She threw mud back.

“He pissed himself. Charles Xavier had to tell everyone he had a seizure.” You both laughed.

“Girls! Get cleaned up for dinner.” Helene called from the porch.

“Yes, Aunt Helene” you said in unison.

“Why can’t you stay? We miss you.”

“You know it’s for all our own good, Bethy. I’m the only one with a dangerous power.”

“Hey! I can freeze stuff!”

You giggled, “Yeah only if everyone is real quiet and you are well hydrated.”

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

You often dreamed of being back home but it was rare they were good dreams. Mostly you had nightmares about the day everyone died. Rarely did you have dreams when you felt happy.

You woke up a little misty eyed. Goodness did you miss your family. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear Steve calling your name. “Earth to Y/N. You ok?”

“Yeah. Bad dream.” You got out of bed and started getting ready for your day. He watched you smiling as you hummed your way through your morning routine. You were not in your usual work attire when you finished.

“Where are you going today?” he asked confused. “Aren’t you usually a little more put together for work?”

“I have the day off. I have Strange all morning and then off to Dr. Calloway.” You wrapped your arms around his waste. He hugged you back.

“Will you tell your doctor about your bad dreams? You looked so lost this morning. I hate seeing my girl that way.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I am not your boss. I am not giving you orders. Just the concerned boyfriend.”

“Yes. My very bossy boyfriend. I’ll tell him. It’s not like he ever really explores anything. It’s all ‘how does that make you feel?’ and ‘Let’s up your anti depressants.’”

“Does that work?”

“Would work if I was actually depressed. I think I might stop seeing him after today’s session.” Steve’s whole body got stiff.

“Why? Since you’ve been seeing him you haven’t accidentally shocked anyone.”

“That wasn’t his doing. I didn’t shock you in Germany did I?” No. Loki taught you how to control yourself. He would scoff at anti-depressants. Nothing was wrong with them if they were actually doing anything for you. They just dulled your senses and made you feel nauseous. “Well. I have to get going.”

“No breakfast?” You smiled at him over your shoulder.

“I’ll grab a banana on the way out. Love you!”

“Love you too. Hey! We have a mission briefing at four. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir.” They asked you to run point on an operation in Alaska. It was dealing with enhanced people and there was some intel that said they were a lot like you. That was the only information they gave.

Steve waited until he saw your car drive down the road before he called Tony. “We have a problem. She’s talking about leaving Dr.Calloway’s care.”

“Shit. Ok. I’ll call and give him a heads up. She cannot stop taking those meds, Steve. Not until we can convince Strange to bind her powers.”

Steve squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Are we sure we want to do this? Maybe Strange is right. With the proper training she can control it. She was doing well with Loki. She never hurt me again.”

“Cap, maybe one day you’ll be on our side. I read her SHIELD file. Fury was right. The girl is a nuclear bomb with a short fuse. This Alaska thing is huge. We need her to control herself. A lot of lives are at stake. Get it together, Steve.” With that Tony hung up.

Steve felt nauseous. He hated doing this to you. He adored you. If you found out he was lying to you...he hated to think what you’d do. He’d deserve it. He picked up the phone and called the only person he believed would be able to guide him.

“Professor? This is Steve Rogers. I’m wondering if you would have some time talk to me about one of your former students. I can be there within the hour. Thank you, sir. I’ll see you soon.” He grabbed the keys to his bike and headed to the school.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You made it a few minutes early to Doctor Strange. You were spooked every time you went to the mansion on Bleeker. Wong greeted you at the door and said Strange would be meeting you shortly. You browsed the volumes on the bookshelves. You selected one that looked tattered but well loved. When you opened the pages it blinked out of your hands and was replaced by a cup of tea. You actually liked the tea.

“That is not for you. Let’s get started.”

“What’s that one about? Transfiguration? Can I learn that?”

“Not today. Focus, Y/N.”

Strange was always a bit terse with you. He had absolutely no patience. You wished someone else was teaching you. You received no feedback unless you did something wrong. He didn’t tolerate chit chat or small talk of any kind. At least when you worked with Wong he gave you treats when you did something well. The only consolation you got was that you knew he was looking out for you. That meant sometimes he told you things you wished you didn’t have to hear.

“Your boss came to see me yesterday. He asked me to bind your powers. I told him to fuck off.” You felt like the air left your body. You knew Fury had secret plans for you but Tony? He was supposed to be a good guy.

“Did he say why?”

“Yes. Some crap about you killing a kid when you were younger. That attack at the school. I know what happened that day. You don’t have to worry about me. Just saying watch your back. They are escalating from the Wolfsbane.”

You wanted to ask if Steve knew but you were sure he did. Tears started flowing down your cheeks which made Strange uncomfortable. “You are doing well here, kid. We can be done for today. See you next week.” Before you had a chance to say anything he shoved you through a portal.

“I know how to use a door!” You shouted towards the house. You shot Steve a text letting him know you were done a little early if he wanted to have lunch. When he didn’t answer after a few minutes you decided to completely blow off your doctor’s appointment and go shopping instead. It’s pretty rare when you had time to yourself these days so you decided to take advantage.

Escalating from the wolfsbane. It was entirely possible that your boss and your boyfriend knew they were poisoning you. It was also possible they didn’t if they were fed wrong information. There were some studies that showed Aconite in low low doses can help with anxiety and in rare cases heart failure. You had to know how to handle the herb correctly. Even the most practiced healer would try a thousand other herbs before this one. Dr. Calloway didn’t seem like he was on the up and up from your first visit. When you read the label on the medicine bottle you decided not to take it because you knew what it was. You showed it to Strange who suggested you call the police since you were being poisoned. “He’s clearly not a licensed medical professional. There are hundreds of safe drugs on the market to handle anxiety. This will kill you.”

The two of you compounded an antidote for the medication. You tell Steve it’s vitamins. The little person in your head was frantically waving red flags at you. Not a good sign that he watched you take the pills every day. Not good at all.

🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

The first time walking into Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was intimidating. It sat on a large expanse of land which was crawling with children. A few of the younger kids ran up to Steve marveling at him. “It’s Captain America!” They shouted. He gave high fives and pats on the head. Ororo greeted him at the front door.

“Captain Rogers. Nice to meet you. I’m Ororo Munroe. I am an instructor here and I work directly with Professor Xavier. He’s just finishing up a class. I’ll show you to his office.” Steve shook her hand. He was mesmerized by the crystal blue of her eyes.

“This is a cool operation you have here. Not unlike the Avengers compound except we only house adult children.”

“Trust me we have several of those ourselves. Tell me, the Professor said you were inquiring about a former student. I’ve been here for quite some time. Perhaps I can help.”

“Sure. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s working with us on a operation in Alaska. She also happens to be my girlfriend.” Ororo paused for a moment.

“Of course. How is she doing? Terrible what happened to her family. She was a great student. What kind of mission are you going on that you’d need that kind of fire power?” Steve stayed quiet until they were sure to be away from tiny ears.

“She’s doing well. Her power is what I wanted to talk to Professor Xavier about.”

A voice came from out of nowhere. It was gentle tinged with a hint of amusement. “Y/N is quite a woman. Your team is lucky to have her at your disposal.” Steve shook his hand and sat in the chair across from the large desk. Ororo and a few other X-men protectively flanked the Professor.

“She is, sir, though I may be a bit biased. The reason I’m here is because members of my team have expressed some concern about the strength of her power and her inability to control herself in times of great stress. She has been taking a medication called Aconite prescribed by a Dr. Calloway to help with stress and anxiety....”

A woman whom he did not immediately notice spoke up, “Aconite is Wolfsbane, Captain Rogers. It’s poisonous. It also strips powers. Why would she ever agree to that?” Based on your description Steve guessed this was your Aunt Agatha. The tension in the room grew considerably. He was unaware that he was poisoning you.

“You must be Aunt Agatha. I’ve heard a lot about you....” Steve stood to shake her hand when another woman interrupted.

“The doctor told her they are anti-depressants. I’m Jean Grey. Don’t get up, Captain Rogers. They lied to both of you. Stephen Strange will never agree to bind her powers. Not against her will. You people are unbelievable.” Steve’s jaw clenched. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. The Professor saw him getting overwhelmed so he ordered everyone out except Agatha.

“Captain Rogers, Y/N is quite capable of controlling herself. There were a few incidents when she was younger but she’s come a long way. From what we hear she is doing quite well under Stephen Strange’s tutelage. Why bind her now?”

“I agree. There are those who don’t. I’ve read her SHIELD file. She killed a kid on these grounds under your care. For the safety of this mission we need her to be in as much emotional control as possible. We are working under SHIELD on this one so I’m afraid any details are classified.” He tossed the folder on his desk. Xavier and Agatha read over the incident report.

“This report is inaccurate. We were under attack on the day in question. As an older student she was charged with getting younger students to safety. This young man was too severely injured. He died in her arms. She was able to absorb his power of empathy. It took several months of therapy and training to cope with the gravity of this new skill.” Xavier looked away from him as he recalled the day. It was obviously very painful.

Steve grew more agitated. It was clear someone was lying to him and now he was an accomplice in poisoning you. He thanked the Professor for his time and decided to take the long way home to cool off. “Captain Rogers. Fear of our unique abilities is what started the war all those years ago. You need not fear what you don’t understand.”

“I love her, Professor. I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of what other people want with her. I’m not going to let anyone use her anymore. You have my word.” The only thing Steve wanted to do was get to Tony to find out why he was pushing so hard to bind you.

“Scott, find out what interest the Avengers have in Alaska. Why are they being sent there?” The Professor sent out a team to do some reconnaissance work. Perhaps the X-men would join the Avengers on their trip.

#steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #marvel witches #mcu x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #marvel #steve rogers x reader #captain america smut

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mintchocolateleaves · 4 years ago

Text

Cost of Freedom (42/52)

Summary: In which Heiji confronts a tail, and Saguru refuses to leave the precinct without the full case notes in his possession.

A/N: 2020 has been a year you guys. I’m not even going to try to explain everything that’s added to this taking forever. Just, it’s here now. Cool. It’s 4am. I’m going to sleep.

[Chapter List]

Someone is following him.

Nervousness fills him as he moves, because someone is following him and trying to figure out which of the three are his suspect is difficult. Either paranoia is filling him up, swelling in his stomach like a sickness – something he’ll feel stupid about later – or they’ve slipped up somehow and revealed themselves.

Except, Heiji isn’t so sure what’s been done to five themselves away. If it’s anything then… it must be the website, right?

They’d clicked into it and set off some sort of… alert?

Heiji shudders. What kind of organisation are they working with, if even looking on a website can tip them off?

Moving forwards, Heiji turns, cuts a corner nearer to his house. If it were a normal day, he’d head left and down the road to his own house. Instead, he turns right.

As he turns, he takes a moment to glance over his shoulder to the three still following behind him. The pair of teenagers follow behind too. The businessman, however, keeps walking straight.

Heiji shudders.

He watches from the corner of his eye as the businessman keeps moving, walking straight, swinging his briefcase until the wall between them obscures all vision of him.

“Oh, fuck me…” Heiji mutters under his breath. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from his chest. And he’s still got two more following him to worry about. He wonders if this is how Kudo has felt the entire time, since he’d been free but not, how he feels knowing that everyone he walks past could be after him,

If this is the way his paranoia feels, Heiji wonders how Kudo can even sleep at all. He feels faintly, like he’ll never sleep again. He turns right, into another side street that’s more obscured from view, brows furrowing as he walks.

Perhaps he’s setting himself up as he starts heading to this route, but it’s the only way to know for certain, if he’s being followed. The side street leads to a dead end – unless they know, like Heiji does, that there’s a small hole in one of the neighbourhood fences.

An unknown detail, Heiji knows, unless you’ve spent the entirety of your childhood looking for lost pets and learning the neighbourhood down to even the smallest rock.

They follow. Heiji tenses.

His gaze sweeps around for something that could be used to protect himself. Something long, something that could resemble a bokken. He’s trained for years at kendo, so even if something happens here, he can at least try to protect himself.

He untenses himself from panicked into a different sort of tension. Readying himself on adrenaline for a fight. There are some old construction materials here, a plank of wood that he heads towards. Covertly, of course, so as not to raise suspicion–

“Hattori.”

Heiji jumps, pivoting as he does to look at the two girls. And oh, for fucks sake. The voice is familiar…

“Are th’ two of ya completely insane?” He hisses to the disguised selves of Kuroba and Nakamori Aoko. “Ya don’t jus’ sneak up on a guy like tha’.”

It’s difficult to consider what exactly they’re supposed to do next.

Ran follows after Saguru, waits for him to quit moving as they leave the department behind. That was a bust, she supposes, but they’ll find another way around things. They just need to figure out a… way to do that.

“We need the case files,” Saguru says, when they’re outside of the offices, leading Ran into a small alcove, pausing as he glances up and down the corridor. “We’re not going to be able to find Kudo-kun without them.”

Pressing her lips together, Ran glances away. She’s not sure how they’re supposed to get them if they’ve been taken off the case, if they don’t have the access to them anymore. There’s no way, it seems almost as if it’s… out of their hands now. They’ll just have to use the information they’ve got on hand to figure things out.

“They won’t give them to us.” Ran says. “You know that.”

Saguru pauses, nods. Taking a moment to think, he’s entirely quiet, until:

“We need to take them.”

“We can’t!” Ran is uncertain if it’s fear, or nervousness that leads to her moving forward, tugging on his sleeve so he’s properly looking at her. There’s a… there should be a limit, shouldn’t there? “Inspector Nakamori already said–”

“The inspector is still reeling from his daughter choosing KID over him,” Saguru says. His brows furrow, a frown flashing across his features. “Which… should have been expected, honestly. Even as KID, Kuroba showed her more attention.”

He pauses, glances away again for the moment.

“They’re…” Saguru sighs. “They’re both in danger. Kudo-kun’s case… they’re a part of it now too. More of my friends are in danger, and I… We need those files because we need to find them, to give them the evidence we found.”

Ran falters, feels her shoulders drop.

“I don’t want them to get hurt anymore than they already have,” Saguru continues. “If we can help them by breaking a few rules, then shouldn’t we?”

“It shouldn’t work like that,” Ran says, although she knows like each other time he’s made a point like this, she’ll cave.

“But it does,” Saguru says. “Come on, all I need is an open terminal.”

Ran sighs. And then, she nods her head. “I think there was one just around the corner.”

“Let’s go then.” Saguru says, leading the way. Ran follows behind him. “Something tells me we don’t have much time.”

Kazuha arrives to the shrine with a feeling of trepidation curdling in her stomach, acid rising up her throat. She shouldn’t have left Heiji, she should have stayed, but he’s always been stubborn and she understands why he told her to go. She just…

Sometimes she wishes she’d never gotten involved. That she’d been smarter before all this, when Heiji had started going on his weekend trips from Osaka to catch on that they were to visit Shinichi. Then, maybe she wouldn’t need to be so worried about Heiji.

She can’t change it thought, can’t go back and so instead, she hides her motorbike among overgrown plant life, focuses on sweeping away as much evidence of her being here as possible.

Shinichi doesn’t come out to see if it’s her, and Kazuha wouldn’t expect him too. Instead, she focuses on getting this done as quickly as she can while still being efficient, before heading up towards the shrine.

It always makes her sad to think about how this place was vibrant once. Without weeds and ivy growing up along the side of the building, nettles interweaving the wooden staircase up into the building, almost as if trying to devour the place.

People used to pray here, but she doesn’t know for what. She wonders if they should start praying for safety. She closes her eyes at the door and prays, in particular, for the omamori she’d gifted Heiji with when they were children, to keep him safe.

If he needs that.

She really hopes he doesn’t.

Her prayer finished, she steps inside, and goes in search for Shinichi. He’s not in the reception area, but she finds him further inside, in on of the side rooms they’d set up for a sleeping area.

“Shinichi-kun?”

She can’t keep the alarm from her voice. Shinichi sits, his knees up to his chest, nose pressed against the fabric of his jeans, hands brought up into his hair. His breath comes in sharp inhales, and she can see from the way that he’s shaking, that it’s panic.

Kazuha steps inside.

“I’m comin’ in,” Kazuha says, as she comes closer. She gets a small noise, affirming, but not much else. Not that she’d expect more from him, not that she’d want to hear gasping words. “I’m gonna sit next to ya, okay?”

A staggered nod – Kazuha takes it as permission, and sits, her back pressed against the wall, own arms holding her legs as she takes a moment to consider the best way to help.

Panic attacks aren’t a stranger to her, haven’t been since she was a child. Hands gripped around the edges of her blankets, around teddy bears and Heiji, her knuckles going white from the tightness of it all.

All it had taken was her father getting injured in a confrontation with a suspect at work, and she’d been terrified for him each day when he’d gone to work. The way it had felt difficult to breathe…

“Breathe in with me Shinichi,” she says, keeping her voice low, trying to make her words softer, less of the usual harshness in her accent. “I’m gonna count from five and you breathe in, okay?”

Shinichi nods.

Kazuha counts – this is the point where she usually shuts her eyes, but she can’t. She keeps her gaze on Shinichi, monitoring, trying to make sure he’s okay. Instead, she soothes herself by counting things designed to soothe herself.

“Five.”

Kazuha is safe, somewhere that’s unknown.

“Four.”

Shinichi is also safe, even if his body is flooding with adrenaline, his breathing staggered and harsh.

“Three.”

They’re in a shrine that has almost become one with nature, on the brink of society and it feels like no one will ever find them here, like even if they let their guards down accidentally, it’d be alright.

“Two.”

Heiji is saf–

“One.”

Heiji is…

Now she does close her eyes. Focuses on counting and keeps to it. She doesn’t want to think anymore, lest she join in with her own panic.

It must work, because eventually, Shinichi’s breathing becomes less uneven, deeper. She can feel when he stops shaking, the way he slumps back slightly against the wall – not relaxed, but better.

“…It was her.” Shinichi says. “Vermouth.”

Kazuha frowns, trying to piece things together. Shinichi hasn’t mentioned Vermouth before, not until yesterday, when he’d claimed she was Sharon Vineyard. She doesn’t see where she fits into things.

“Vermouth,” Shinichi continues, breath hitching. “She killed those people. I… spoke to her in Kyoto.”

Kazuha’s blood turns to slush, a mixture between horrified ice, and overwhelmingly hot rage, anger on Shinichi’s behalf. To be stood in front of… to have to talk to the person responsible for everything he’d been blamed for…

“She…”

“We’d met before.” His voice settles, miserable. “…Three times before. Although… now I know who she is… we’ve probably met more often than that…”

“An’ she killed those people?” Kazuha asks, words soft.

“…Yes.” Shinichi says. “Because of me.”

“It’s not your fault–”

“It is,” Shinichi says. He turns to look at her now, miserable, like the world is weighing him down. He is Atlas, and Vermouth is the person who has placed the weight of the world down onto his shoulders. When he reaches his hand up to his neck, scratching, Kazuha leans forward and slowly takes his hand. “She did it for me.”

“Did ya ask her to?”

“Of course not.” His tone is vehement, horrified. “I would never–”

“Then it wasn’t for you,” Kazuha says, gently. “That’s just an excuse. She’s th’ guilty one, not you.”

“She did it,” Shinichi says, shuddering, “so that the organisation would frame me, instead of killing me. I would’ve never… She’d have faked my death.”

“That’s still not your fault,” Kazuha says. At his weak expression, she leans forward, hand on his shoulder. “It isn’t.”

“It feels like it is,” Shinichi whispers. “If I’d backed off when she told me too…”

“Then more people would have died,” Kazuha says, firmly. “You just wouldn’t have known about it.”

Shinichi sighs. He lifts his hands up to his neck, before pausing. “Where’s Hattori?”

Saguru finds an abandoned computer terminal and Ran is instructed to keep watch.

“Just act like we’re meant to be here,” he says. “I’ve been down here often enough to be recognised – they won’t second guess us.”

Ran bites her lip.

She doesn’t ask why this department is different to theft, why they won’t kick them out. Instead, she trusts that Saguru isn’t too tired, too injured to know what he’s doing. Even if it feels like they’re painting large targets on their backs, she trusts him.

He kept her safe, and she’ll do the same for him. She makes the promise to herself. As her brain blocks out the generic noise of the precinct, her ears focusing on the way Saguru’s fingers clack at the keyboard, she promises that she won’t let anyone else get hurt for her sake again.

The silence is almost overbearing as her promise settles on her shoulders.

“We’re going to need everything,” Saguru mutters under his breath, and Ran is pretty sure that it’s not an invitation for them to converse but simply a reminder to himself to be thorough.

Ran sighs.

“We don’t need everything,” she says, regardless of whether it was intended for her or not. “I’ve got some evidence at home for Shinichi’s case–”

“I’m going to get everything, just in case,” Saguru says, cutting her off. His voice is firm. “Or there might be things that they didn’t necessarily give you. Like the video interviews, the transcripts. Everything regarding what happened with Kuroba and Aoko-san yesterday.”

Another sigh.

“How long do you think this will take?” Ran asks, quietly.

“Hopefully,” Saguru says, fingertips faltering at the computer, forehead crinkling into a frown. “…It doesn’t extend into time that we don’t have.”

“Alright,” Ran says, quietly. She doesn’t mention how that’s not an answer. “And we’re what… we can’t be printing all this off, can we?”

“I’ve got a USB stick; I’m going to copy them over.” Saguru says. “The only issue is trying to make it so the system won’t flag the fact I’m copying all of these files over.”

Ran pauses.

“I don’t think I want to ask how you know how to do all of this,” she says, after a moment.

“Understandable,” Saguru says.

Ran pulls her attention away from him, surveying the room instead. They’ve found an area outside of theft, so as to avoid Inspector Nakamori’s attention, but it’s still busy.

There’s an influx of people moving in and out of the department. Some carrying case folders, others carrying mugs of coffee. Most monitors have the bright white LEDs of a case report being written up, although from this distance, it’s impossible to read the writing on the screen.

She glances out around the room instead, mouth open partly, as she fiddles with her hands. Mostly, there’s just an influx of police officers she’s never met before. And then–

Short, bobbed hair.

And a butterfly tattoo.

Ran frowns. She doesn’t know why she feels unsettled, but a coldness runs down her spine as she glances back to Saguru.

“Which department is this again?” She asks quietly.

“Organised crime,” Saguru says offhandedly. He pauses for a moment, gaze flickering up to her. “Why?”

“I think our case might be being investigated in her too,” Ran says quietly. “The waitress from yesterday, I think she’d have been called in as a witness, right?”

Saguru pauses.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s not good.”

“We need to go before she notices us,” Ran says.

“Else they’ll link…” He trails off, body going tense. “Alright this might not be… the full files but it’s enough. Give me one more minute.”

Ran wants to refuse him.

A minute, she wants to say, feels like a lifetime when placed under pressure. It feels like an eternity stretched out into a large expanse of nothingness where an impending disaster is right on the horizon but all you can do is stand and watch as it moves in slow motion.

Ran wants to refuse him, to say they don’t have a minute. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she watches as Saguru pulls out a USB stick and inserts it into the computer, loading it up and mass copying over files. She keeps an eye on the waitress across the room, trying to remain subtle.

“Almost–” The computer works quickly enough, but for a moment, as her gaze flickers back to the screen, it seems as if the process will remain at 78% completion.

Ran glances back to the waitress and waits, her lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Done,” Saguru says. “Let’s go.”

He yanks the USB from the drive, before logging off from the computer. Then, he pushes his chair out, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Let’s go,” Saguru says, as he pushes up, letting out a small hiss as he does. His pain relief must be wearing off.

Ran lets her attention remain on the waitress for one last second – she doesn’t seem to have noticed her, is messaging on her phone – before focusing on the door.

“Let’s never do anything like this again,” Ran says weakly.

Saguru lets out a small laugh.

“For the record,” Kuroba says as he focuses on Heiji, his voice pitched high in a melodic lilt, feminine and very much keeping up the disguise. “Walking straight up to you somewhere crowded would have been much more suspicious.”

Nakamori nods beside him but remains quiet.

Heiji understands it, but his heart rate isn’t getting the memo. The paranoia they’ve instilled in him has adrenaline rushing through his blood, has him waiting for the moment something bad occurs.

It doesn’t. Heiji stays stood where he is, his fight-or-flight sense betraying him as two more associates on the run stand calmly in front of him.

They must be insane. Heiji officially rules that they’re not sane. The pair of them are completely and utterly insane and it’s only moderately terrifying.

“I get tha’,” Heiji says after a moment, “but still.”

“He does have a point,” Nakamori says, nodding her head. “It doesn’t help with all the paranoia. Especially on a case like Kudo-kun’s.”

Heiji’s gaze flickers from Kuroba to Nakamori before settling back on the thief. His nervousness shifts into something hot, something boiling in his blood as a flood of anger rushes through him.

“You told her about the case?” He hisses.

“She broke me out of hospital,” Kuroba says with a shrug. “Including police custody. I think Aoko deserves to know about the case.”

“It’s dangerous!” Heiji protests.

“I’ve gathered that,” Nakamori says, dryly. “Since I was almost killed by a sniper.”

Heiji glances between them both. The anger fizzles out slightly as he considers. “They were aiming at you and not KID?”

Nakamori shakes her head. “I doubt it was that.”

“I gave Aoko my gas mask during the heist,” Kaito says. “I needed her help with my escape plan – they must have been shooting for the mask. We reckon it’d have been easier to shoot at a mask through all the tear gas.”

“All things we can explain fully,” Nakamori says, crossing her arms, “in a group. We’d like you to take us to Kudo-kun, please.”

Heiji looks between them both, before offering a small sigh. “…I don’t have a spare bike, if ya can get one that you can follow me on withou’ drawing attention to you, then I guess so.”

“I’m very good at acquiring things without a trace,” Kuroba says, a brightness to his tone. Beside him, Nakamori rolls her eyes, shaking her head, exasperated.

“Give us a few hours,” Nakamori says, more calmly. She levels Heiji with an even look, determined, unwavering. “We’ll find something.”

Heiji’s brows furrow slightly, before he nods. “Take the Hanshin expressway out of the city – route 13. Down th’ Daini Keihan road there’s a turnin’ that leads to Katano, takes about half an hour – there’s a small dirt path off the track, I’ll meet ya there and we’ll head out after tha’.”

“It’s almost four now…” Nakamori says, quietly, frowning.

“Eight p.m.,” Kuroba says. “We’ll be there for eight. Allow us half an hour past that and if we’re not there by then, we’ll contact you if we can.”

Well… that sounds ominous.

Still, Heiji nods. “…Alrigh’, I’ll let them know.”

The phone call interrupts them both, saving Kazuha from answering with whatever half-hearted, scrambled excuse she could think up. She’s glad, really for two reasons.

The first, obviously, because of the relief that floods through her seeing Heiji’s caller I.D. pop up on her phone screen, the image of him frowning down at her when they’d been studying together for their midterms before, telling her to get off her phone.

The second reason being that she doesn’t need to come up with a lie. Kazuha’s not bad at mistruths – not when the situation depends on it, at least – but lying to an ex-detective, to anyone with the skills to read people down to the faintest verbal tic?

Yeah, Kazuha doesn’t fancy her chances.

“One moment,” Kazuha says, as she presses answer. Shinichi raises an eyebrow at her, but otherwise remains quiet.

Kazuha waits.

“We were bein’ followed,” Heiji says by way of greeting, “but not by anyone tha’ wants to kill us or anythin’.”

“You do realise,” Kazuha says after a moment, “that this isn’t comforting if you don’t offer me more information, right? You do know that?”

“Ahou,” Heiji hisses, before continuing, “of course I know tha’. You just didn’t let me finish. Let Kudo know Kuroba and his girlfriend are here, and he’ll see them soon.”

Kazuha pauses for a moment, processing. “What time will you get here?”

“About nine,” Heiji says. “We’ll have to leave ‘em to get caught up, we can’t stay tha’ long.”

Kazuha nods to herself. “Okay, I’ll see if I can scrounge up some extra blankets for ‘em.”

“Later,” Heiji says, as he hangs up.

Shinichi’s watching her quietly as she puts her phone away, contemplating. The tension in his shoulders has eased slightly, the ram-rod straightness of his spine easing in, not quite a slouch but something more natural, comfier.

“They broke out of the hospital and headed straight to Hattori,” he says.

“Seems like it.”

There’s a moment where Shinichi simply breathes, relaxed, before the previous tensions returns tenfold, his brows furrowing.

“What if they were followed?” He asks. “They came straight here, they’re linking Hattori–”

“We’re…” Kazuha can’t deny that it’s something worrying to consider, but she shakes her head. “They wouldn’t risk something like that. They’re on the run too.”

It seems she’s said the right thing, like Shinichi simply needed to be reminded, because he settles again without any further issue, offering a short nod.

“…Right,” Shinichi says, quietly, voice mostly a whisper. “Right. You’re right.”

Kazuha pushes up from the floor. “They won’t be here for a couple hours, so are you gonna help me search for some blankets, or what?”

#yes you know what this means - shits about to go down #DCMK #Kuroba Kaito #Kudo Shinichi #Hattori Heiji #Toyama Kazuha #Mouri Ran #Nakamori Aoko #Hakuba Saguru #KaiAo #Detective Conan #Fic: Cost of Freedom #mywriting

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter XII

Warnings: Violence, Murder, Mentions of Murder, Language, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Suicide Summary: Y/N is Andy and Laurie Barber’s 14-year-old daughter who is a high-grade student in Archer Middle School. Her best friend, Alice Miller had been gone for a while. They search for the lost student and find out that Alice Miller’s body has the prints of Andy and Laurie Barber’s daughter, Y/N.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII

—DEFENDING JACOB SPOILERS—

Your Full Name Initials - F/N/I

Also some sad dog scene. Very sad. Not abuse no that would’ve been a warning but it’s not that. No gore either

~~~

“You’ve been with the state’s crime lab how long?” Neal asked. The woman at the witness stand sighs, “Eleven years, almost 12,” She replied. Neal nods, “Ms. Carlson, could you describe the blood evidence at the point of attack?”

“There were a few small spatters less than an inch in diameter,” She says. Neal looks over to the jury, “Yesterday, we heard defense contend that there should have been blood on the clothing of an attacker in a stabbing like this.”

Andy shuffles in his chair. “Do you have an opinion on that?” Neal asks.

“Yes. That’s not necessarily true, since no spatter seemed to cast off with force. It’s also possible the assailant stood behind the victim when she stabbed him which would have meant she was out of the trajectory of any spray or spatter.”

Laurie gotten a flashback when she first caught Y/N almost hurting another girl at the bowling alley. Y/N went to attack from behind. She shook her head. “What can you tell us about the murder weapon?” Neal asks.

“We were looking for a knife with a four- to six-inch blade and a serrated-edge.” Neal walks over and pulls out a box from under his table, “I see.” Andy leans forward to right somethings down. “So, a knife like this one?” Neal asked.

Andy turns to the recent call from Neal, lifting up his head, his blood ran cold when Neal held up a familiar blade. “Objection,” Joanna says. “Commonwealth moves to enter into evidence--”

“Objection!” Joanna calls, everyone seem to whisper and gasp at the slightest. Neal looks at French, “Your Honor, the jury will soon hear testimony from the defendant’s best friend that the defendant owned a knife exactly like this one: a Schnell Tactical.” Neal was holding it up towards the jury.

“Your Honor, this is a cheap stunt. The Commonwealth had yet to link any such knife to the defendant, and to wave it around in here now is irresponsible. It’s inflammatory,” Joanna states.

“Agreed. Objection sustained. Put away the knife, Mr. Logiudice,” Judge French says lowly. Neal nods and turns away, “In that case, no more questions, Your Honor.”

“Cross,” French said. Joanna nods, “Absolutely, Your Honor.” Joann stands up and walks over, “Ms. Carlson, we were just on the subject of blood. Was there any blood evidence recovered from the defendant?” She asks.

“No,” Ms. Carlson said. “Genetic evidence?” Joanna asks, “DNA? Hairs? Fibers?” Ms. Carlson shook her head, “No, just the fingerprint.”

Joanna stood by the jury, “May I propose a hypothetical?” She asked. Ms.Carlson nods at the slightest, “Okay.” Y/N looked over to the old woman, “Let’s suppose the defendant Y/N, was walking on her way back home after the party when she was left behind by Alice and came across the victim lying on the ground. And suppose Y/N lifted the victim by the collar to see if she was okay. Might that create a fingerprint consistent with the one you found?” Joanna asks.

“Yes, that is possible.”

“Now the knife-” Joanna says to the court, “-that the Commonwealth attempted to enter into evidence had you ever seen it before?” Neal leans forward, “Objection. Relevance.” The judge looks over to him, “Overruled. You opened the door, counselor.” Neal sat there in silence.

“Yes,” Ms. Carlson says, “The DA’s office asked me to determine if that particular model of knife was consistent with the victim’s wounds.” Joanna nods, “Ah. And I assume they gave you other models to compare as well?”

“No.”

“No?” Joanna turns to the jury, “Did they at least ask you to determine how many other knives might have made those wounds?” Ms. Carlon’s brows go inward and she shook her head, “No.”

“Well, how many would you think?”

“I-- I don’t know. That-- That would be speculating,” Ms. Carlson replies. Joanna grins, “A thousand?” Ms. Carlson slowly shook her head to think, “Uh... A large number?” She sounded too unsure.

“Seven hundred? Five hundred?” Joanna counts. Ms. Carlson nods, very confused, “Somewhere... somewhere in that range.” Joanna had them now, “In other words, the chances of it being the actual knife are one in 500. Correct?” Andy tried not to grin, holding his hands near his face to hide the small grin.

“Objection. Calls for speculation,” Neal nearly growled. The Judge turns, “Sustained.” Joanna grins and turns to the jury, shaking her head, “No further questions, Your Honor.” Y/N looked over to the jury and saw one of them smiled. And just that, Y/N felt her heart jolt with slight happiness.

Laurie had began to leave the restrooms and head over back to her family in that small room. The halls were crowded with people in nice suits. She heard faint distress from a familiar voice.

“This is all going to shit. She’s gonna walk. Can’t you see that? She’s gonna get away with killing our daughter because of that asshole and his goddamn theatrics.” Laurie spotted Eric and his wife Marla standing off to the side.

“Please, I can’t take this,” Marla says. Eric turns back to her, “Yeah, well, I can’t take it either.” The man turns and walks away. “Eric. Eric,” Marla called, her husband did not look back.

Marla sat down on the bench, pulling a hand up to her face as Laurie looked back. But there was nothing she could do. After Marla had done to Laurie at the mall that morning, Laurie was sure she’d do it again. And Laurie didn’t want someone to drag her out or try to help the mom. Laurie continued on and walked in the room.

“How he didn’t know that that stunt would backfire is beyond me,” Joanna says. Andy nods, “Because he’s reckless.” Laurie sits down and rubs Y/N’s back, “You doing all right?” She asked. Y/N nods, “Yeah.” Y/N remembered the guy who smile.

Y/N turned to the adults, “One of them smiled.” Andy and Joanna look up to the girl. “One of the juror, the guy with the goatee.” Andy sounded shock to hear that, “He smiled? Really?” Andy grins at Joanna.

Y/N smiles, “Yeah, when she admitted it was a one in 500 chance, he smiled.” Andy grins at her while Joanna’s phone dinged. The woman looked at her phone and cleared her throat, causing Andy to turn. “Something wrong?”

Joanna shook her head, “No. No, it’s nothing. We’ll talk later.”

“You and Mr. Barber have worked together on many cases. Is that right?” Neal asks, looking towards the next witness at the stand. Pam Duffy. She nodded at him, “We go back, yes,” Her monotone voice was loud and clear. “Would you describe him as diligent when it came to his work?” Neal asks.

“More than that. He was relentless,” She said.

“Was that relentlessness on display when you were attempting to cut through the school’s red tape?” He asked. “He didn’t feel the classmates were a priority,” Pam answered, “We’d already interviewed Alice’s close friends.”

Neal turns, “Once you did interview the students, finally, was there anything useful that came out of that?” He asks. Pam remembered the day they did, none of them kids spoke much, “After the initial meetings, nothing much. But with some follow-up, we came to learn that there was an ongoing beef between the victim and the defendant.”

“Meaning Alice had been bullying the defendant,” Neal states. “For some time, yes,” Pam replied.

“Was this around the time that you started to view the defendant as a suspect?” Neal asks. Pam looks over to him, “It was.”

“Even as her father was still running the investigation?” Neal asks. Pam blinks at him, “Certain aspects of the investigation had to be carried out without Mr. Barber’s knowledge.” Pam looks over to Andy who sat next to Y/N, he seem to shuffle in his seat as he looked upon her.

“What did that reveal?” Neal asked.

Pam looked away, “That the defendant supposedly had a knife consistent with the wounds, that she had sufficient motive, and she had opportunity in that her movements the night of the attack placed her near or at the scene.”

“Did you arrest her at this time?” He asked. “Not until the fingerprint came back,” She says, “We then obtained a warrant and searched the house, trying to find the knife, which we did not.”

Neal looks down at the notes in his hand, “Did you seize the defendant’s computer?” Pam nods, “We did, but we found nothing directly incriminating.” Neal looks down at the ground, “Detective, are you aware of a program called Disk Scraper?”

“I am. It’s a program that wipes hard drives, deletes files, that kind of thing.”

“Was that program on the defendant’s laptop?” Neal asks. Pam took a while to answer, “It was.” Laurie furrows her brows and Andy looked over to Y/N. He noticed her swallow and stare blankly away from him. “Is it possible that there was incriminating evidence on the laptop, and it was removed by the defendant?”

“Objection. Calls for speculation,” Joanna called. Neal thought of a different question, “What about pornography?”

“Objection. Relevance.”

“Sustained,” French says. Neal shrugs, “Let me be more specific. Did you find any violent pornography on the defendant’s laptop?” Y/N slightly turned her head to the sound of that. Pam looks up, “I think all pornography is violent.”

Neal nods, “Of course. I mean, specifically, images glorifying abuse or torture.”

“Objection. Relevance,” Joanna calls again. The Judge furrowed his brows, “Overruled. The witness will answer.” Pam turned her head to the judge and nodded at Neal, “Some, yeah.”

The spectators began to mutter and Laurie raised her hand up to her face. Andy looks over to Y/N as she tried not to look at him. Neal nodded, “No further questions.”

Once Neal went back to his desk, Joanna stood up, “Detective, I assume you have executed countless search warrants in your career, yes?” She asked. “Sure,” Pam said.

“Seized a lot of laptops.”

“Yes,” Pam says. Joanna continues, “Have you ever found one that didn’t have some pornography on it?” The whole court chuckle while Pam grins, “I don’t think so.”

“Detective, is it true that you were the first to identify Leonard Patz as a person of interest, and not Mr. Barber?” Pam nods, “Yes. I brought Patz to Andy’s attention, and we agreed that he was someone we should be looking at.” Joanna points, “One last question.” Joanna looks over to Y/N and Andy before going back to Pam.

“At any point in the investigation, did Andy Barber behave in any way to suggest that he suspected his own daughter?” Pam shook her head, “No, not in the slightest.”

Joanna nods, “No further questions, Your Honor.” French looks down at his desk. “Mr. Logiudice, redirect?” For a second, Neal looks over to Andy, waiting to find the moment to admit the event to everyone. Andy looked over as well and so Neal turns away. “Detective...” Neal stood, fixing his suit, “...have you ever known Mr. Barber to be violent?”

Andy turns his head to Pam with his brows creasing inward. Pam furrowed hers, “No.”

“Are you sure? Never seen him grab somebody by the jacket? Push them into a wall?” Andy rolls his eyes and drops his pen on the table, leaning back. “Objection. Relevance,” Joanna calls. French looked upon Neal and he felt curious, “Overruled.”

Pam licked her lips and slowly sighed, “Once. You,” She answers, “After your provoked him with that crack about his father doing time for--” Pam cuts herself off knowing that “Bloody” Billy Barber was close to mentioning. It was too late.

“Doing time for murder?” Neal asked.

“Objection! Your Honor!” Joanna shouts, slamming her hand on the table. The jury began to look over with grimace. “Sustained,” French says, “I’ll see counsel at sidebar, right now.” Joanna and Neal both walked over to the sidebar with Judge French.

“I’m appalled at what I just saw. We went over this in pretrial,” Judge says. “Your Honor, it was the defense counsel who first raised the issue of whether the defendant’s father had reason to suspect his own daughter. I am simply trying to make that argument.”

Joanna rolls her eyes, “You have got to be kidding me. Your Honor, the defense moves for a mistrial-”

“Oh, come on,” Neal says.

“-He was given specific instructions.” French glares at Neal, “You are on extraordinarily thin ice, Mr. Logiudice, you understand me?” He asks, “Now you wrap it up with this witness right now. And if I hear even a whispers about the defendant’s grandfather going forward, Ms. Klein will get her mistrial. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” Neal says, a bit too harshly, his eyes drew away, “Your Honor.” After that, Neal goes back to his table, looking over to Andy who shook his head at him. Everyone in the court seem to calm down after the recent question about “Bloody” Billy Barber.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there’s a saying in the law, ‘You cannot unring the bell’...” Andy turns to Laurie and he shook his head, mouthing towards her. Laurie turns her head and shook it. “...but I’m going to insist that you do just that with regard to the last question.” Andy turned back to the front and shook his head.

Before the next trial, Andy had visited Joanna during nights. Looking over their next witness who would be going up at the stand. Derek Yoo. Andy tried to find pulls and connections between Leonard Patz and Derek, find strategies to keep this going.

So, the day of the trial. The usual thing was sitting and waiting. Laurie looked over to the Yoo family who sat on the other side. But that wasn’t the only problem. Joanna received a text and stood up, walking over to Andy. Her hand gently goes on Andy’s back. “We’ve got a problem.” Andy turns to her. “Madelyn McGrath. I can’t find her.”

“What?” Andy asks.

“Ellen’s been trying to call her cell all week, and she finally got in touch with her mother this morning. And she said that she and Madelyn had a fight three days ago, and that she took off. And her girlfriend just posted online from Florida, and the mom thinks that she’s down there with her.”

“What are we supposed to do? She’s supposed to take the stand tomorrow,” Andy says, gesturing to the stand. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna think of something. Okay.” Joanna taps his shoulder and walks back to her seat, leaving Andy in thought.

Madelyn needed to take the stand tomorrow. She was the one who could end the trial from there. Now it made it look like they didn’t have enough evidence that Leonard Patz is not the suspect here.

Andy turns to look over to the laughter and chatter by Neal and his assistant. The two laughing as if they were best friends. Even when Andy helped Neal through his time being the commonwealth. Taught him everything he knew. Like a friend would.

Neal felt Andy’s eyes and looked over, his smile slowly dropped and he turned away without any other expressions to continue his conversation with his assistant. Andy turned back to the front again, Laurie behind him was stressing more as she rubbed her face in her hand.

Turning around, Andy made eye contact with her. All he could do was give her a gentle smile. Laurie nodded to indicate him that she was doing okay and that he didn’t need to worry much about her.

But then someone brought his attention. Walking into the courtroom, Lynn looked around the room and her eyes landed on Andy’s. The two shared a long gaze and he was the first to turn away from her and stare at his own notes that were written either from last night or today.

“Court, all rise!” The woman shouts. The whole court rose in silence. And their witness was put up to the stand.

“I was like, ‘That’s the same way you go to school. Did you see anything?’ And Y/N said no,” Derek says.

“Nothing about seeing Alice on the ground or trying to help him?” Neal asks. Derek fidgets in his seat, “No. Uh, and she made a joke. Said something like, ‘Couldn’t happen to a nicer girl’,” Derek’s eyes seem to look only at his hands or the wooden surface, eyes locking with Y/N’s he saw the cold stare from her. He looked away immediately.

“And this is within a week after learning about Alice’s murder?”

“I guess, yeah. We were at Y/N’s house, playing video games during the break,” Derek said. Neal nods, “When you said that Alice used to pick on Y/N, what did you mean by that?”

“Alice always kinda had it in for Y/N. She was always calling her ‘bitch’. Like a nickname. Like she’d ask Y/N questions about different sex things lesbians do, but in front of everyone, to embarrass her. Or she’d fake soccer kick at Y/N if she passed her in the hall. Stuff like that.”

“And all of this bullying, it upset Y/N,” Neal said.

“Yeah, of course,” Derek replies. “Did it make her angry?” Neal asked. Derek shook his head slowly, “Not so much in front of Alice, but... privately, she’d go off on how much she hated Alice’s guts. Which I got. I mean, Alice would be a jerk to me too sometimes.”

Neal licks his lips, “At what point after Alice’s murder did you begin to consider your friend Y/N’s role in it?” Andy didn’t like that. “Objection. Leading the witness,” He called out.

The Judge turns to him, completely not phased by his objection. “Overruled.” Joanna looked over to Andy who did as well, he didn’t say anything to her. As if he gave her a silent ‘sorry’. “You can go ahead and answer young man,” French says.

Derek nods, “I guess it was three days later.”

“Was there anything other than her temper that began to make you suspicious?” Neal asks. Derek stutters, “Well, yeah. The knife. Y/N had this scary combat knife she’d bought in town. She used to bring it to school sometimes.”

“To show it off or-- or what?”

“Not really. I mean, she showed it to me and our friend Dylan but it was more like she liked having it on her, walking around with it. Like... it was this secret thing she had,” The boy says.

“I see,” Neal replied, “So the bullying and the knife... But you knew about these things, and still, you didn’t suspect Y/N immediately?” Derek stammers, “I don’t know. Maybe part of me did, a little. But it wasn’t until I read what she wrote online.”

“Online?”

Andy peered up to the boy. Was he talking about the photo Y/N posted? Or that Cut Up Room?

“This messed up site Y/N was into called The Cut Up Room,” Derek says. “By ‘messed up,’ I’m assuming you mean pornographic.” Derek nods, “Yeah, but, it’s not really so much about sex. More violence. Like, really graphic stuff.”

Joanna writes three question marks and shows it towards Andy who just moves his brows. “Are there stories on this site?” Neal asked. “Yeah, people post all kinds of stuff. Photos, videos, stories.”

“And do you know if Y/N posted any stories?” Derek looks up and shuffled a bit, hands fidgeting with each other. “She did. Yeah. She called them F/N/I stories.”

“F/N/I stories?” Neal asked.

“Yeah, you know, like her initials, F-M-B?” Andy looks over to Y/N, her leg began to bounce on the floor again. “That was her screen name on there.” Joanna leans in towards Andy, “What do you know about this?” She asks.

“Not enough. You got to shut it down,” Andy whispers back. “And did F/N/I post a story about the murder of Alice Miller?”

Derek took a while to answer before he spoke, “Yes.” The answer made the spectators murmur all around the court. Andy froze in his seat. “Commonwealth moves to enter into evidence--”

“Objection,” Joanna calls, she stood up, “Your Honor, may we approach?”

“Settle down, please,” French raps the gavel onto his desk. Joanna sighs, “Respectfully, Your Honor, we ask to approach.” The judge nods and Joanna walks up to his desk. “Your Honor, this is an ambush. None of this was disclosed in discovery.”

Neal comes in, “Your Honor, this story was authored by the defendant. If she chose to hide it from his attorney, that’s hardly the Commonwealth’s fault.” Andy turns to his daughter who hung her head low.

“What’s this about, Y/N?” He whispers to her. She never answered. “Y/N?” Her hands began to twist in each other as her legs bounce anxiously. Laurie stared at the back of Y/N’s head. The courtroom goes silent when Joanna began to read the story about Alice’s murder. Seeing every single detail of it.

Turning back to the judge, “Your Honor, I need to confer with my client.” French nods, “All right, go ahead.” Neal and Joanna separate from the Judge to their own tables. Neal took a good look at Y/N who sat in her chair fidgeting. Not once did he show empathy. Not guilt.

“I’m gonna ask your patience while I allow defense counselor a moment to confer with her client.” Andy leans on the table once Joanna sat down to talk to them.

“He’s going to allow it unless our position is that Y/N didn’t write that story.”

“Then that’s our plan--”

“They know that she wrote it, Andy. They’ve got an IP address,” The two look over to Y/N who didn’t budge to look up at them. Joanna looks at her closely, “Y/N.” Lifting up her head, she looked at Joanna and just nodded. Joanna turns back to Andy, “If we push back now, we’re only going to shine a brighter light on it.”

“How bad is it?” Andy asks. Joanna didn’t even have to tell him on how bad it was. He didn’t bother to have her answer.

“Emma stood there on the path as Kate kept walking toward her, grinning. If Kate knew the real Emma, she would have been scared shitless. ‘Don’t fuck with me,’ Emma warned him, ‘I mean it.’ But Kate just laughed and grabbed her by the arm, twisting it back like she’d down so many times before. ‘Stop. You’re hurting me,’ Emma said. But it didn’t hurt that much. She just wanted Kate to think that, so she would let go.”

Andy was leaned to the side, holding a hand up to his face. Anxious to see this come together from what the man from last trial had said. “Kate laughed again, the way she always did, a fake laugh. Emma’s hand slipped into her sweatshirt pocket. There it was, her trusted friend. She curled her fingers around the grip and felt a surge of power through her arm, up into her shoulder. She knew there was no turning back now. The park seemed to know it too. She could hear the breeze in the leaves and birds chirping.”

Everyone was still silent throughout the reading. Laurie began to stare at the boy who slightly shook the paper in hand, afraid.

“Kate saw the knife coming for her, but it was too late to do anything but stare. It slipped in so easily Emma thought she was stabbing air. That surprised her. She did it twice more, telling her brain to remember the feeling for later. Other than feeling hands on my arms during that party at Hannah’s.” Andy knew that sentence was referring to his daughter in the bedroom.

Did Alice do it? Derek continued the story, flipping the page.

“Kate fell backward and rolled down the slope, until she stopped down below. Emma knew she should go, but she couldn’t help herself. She went down to Kate’s body to make sure she was dead. The smell of blood in the air made her feel dizzy. She found a small stream nearby and washed the knife off, and her hand too. She could see her reflection in the water, but her face looked different to her now. ‘It’ll be our secret,’ it seemed to say.”

Y/N felt a tear fall down her cheek as she lightly twitched her fingers. Derek puts the packet in front of him, “The End.” The silence was ended when Marla choked a sob, covering her face in her hands.

Neal sighs, “This story was posted three days after Alice Miller’s body was found?”

“Yeah.” Laurie could hear her own heartbeat, knowing this wasn’t right to her. Y/N had done enough. And Laurie was doubting.

The day, the trial had ended. Laurie, Andy and Y/N began to head to the car in the garage. The three were silent throughout the whole walk there. What were they supposed to say? Whatever was said during that trial, no one could say anything about it.

They were distraught. Laurie and Y/N jumped in the car and buckled their seat belts. Laurie already reaching for her face to rethink on what just happened. Andy got in last and kept his eyes low. Staring at the ground as the family sat in silence.

Y/N only looked out the window. “It was just a story,” She says softly. Andy closes his eyes. “I didn’t know it would be a big deal,” She sounded heart broken. Scared. Everything coming to his head, he didn’t want to say it. But he had to. This is what’s happening right now. And they needed answers from this teenage girl.

He took it out. “Did you do it?” He asked, lowly. Y/N looks over to the front and Andy turns to face her. “Just tell me. Did you kill her?” The hurt in his eyes and the look of doubt. Y/N looked broken. Scared. It took a while for her to answer and they stared at each other.

“No,” She muttered, his stare made her look away and her eyes began to tear up, “No.” Laurie didn’t even say a word. Not even took a breath. After what happened today. She couldn’t trust Y/N’s innocence.

That night, the family and Joanna sat in the kitchen. Trying to go over things for the next trial, knowing that this next one is going to be difficult. Madelyn wasn’t there for the witness stand. They were in trouble.

“I could ask the judge to issue a bench warrant for Madelyn McGrath,” Joanna states. Andy sat in the chair, leg on the other as he held his head, “He won’t. Not for some secondary witness holed up in Florida. We don’t have a choice. We gotta go straight at Patz,” He says.

“Yeah, his subpoena was served this morning. I’ll call him as a hostile witness and see what we can get out of him,” Joanna says back. Andy uncrosses his legs and leans on his knees, “We gotta run every play we have. Not just on the Patz front, Derek too.” He scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t think we covered Derek on cross?” She asked. Andy stands up, “You did your best,” He sat at the table, “You were distracted.” Andy looked over to Y/N, “Everyone was.”

Andy flips open the file while Laurie began to head over to the table. “We need to backstop Patz. I say we go harder on Derek, subpoena Sarah.” Y/N turns to Sarah’s name that came out. Y/N didn’t like that. Not to bring in her friend into her case and her problem.

“Andy, we discussed this,” Joanna said. “That was before. We need Sarah to hammer home Derek’s obsessing. We need to have her repeat his words on the stand,” Andy looks up to the old woman.

“Yeah, you’re right. That could be powerful,” Joanna says. “Show the jury the selfie again-”

“No.”

The three look over to Y/N’s word. “I don’t wanna bring her or Matt into this. It’s my trial. I’m saying no.” Laurie looks over to Andy. He looked at his hands, “Sorry, but you don’t get a say in this anymore. Not after today.” Y/N sat there in silence, staring at Andy with a cold look.

What was colder was the food that was untouched by her. She stood up and walked away. Milo peering up while laying down as Y/N stormed up the stairs. Joanna sighs, “I’ll get into it first thing tomorrow.”

Later that night after Andy organized the things in his office, he headed into the kitchen and saw Laurie at the sink. Leaning in the walkway he watched her. Laurie felt his presence and stopped cleaning the cup in hand.

“You haven’t said one word all night,” Andy says.

Laurie thought about that story. Feeling hands on my arms during that party at Hannah’s. The story about the murder and that sentence stuck in her mind. Andy didn’t tell her. “Did you know?” She asked, “About the story?”

“No,” Andy answered, his forehead creasing. “Just tell me the truth,” Laurie says.

“I am-” Laurie turns around, “The truth. I need to know,” She insists. Andy steps in, “Laurie, I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

“What about the website? The Cut Up Room?” She asks. Andy comes to the edge of the table and leans on it, lowering his head, “I only kept it from you ‘cause I knew it would--”

“Don’t. Don’t,” Laurie cuts him off. Andy lifts his head up confused, “Don’t what?” Laurie shook her head, “Explain it away like you do everything. Excuse it away.”

“I knew it would set you off,” He says, “You were already half convinced that Y/N was guilty. I didn’t want to add--” Laurie shook her head. “Not anymore.” Andy’s eyes were hurtful at the start. But when she said that, he fixed his posture, “What’d you just say?”

“I don’t believe her. Not after what I heard today.”

“Not listening to the fact that our daughter had been raped, Laurie. So you’re gonna let this one thing change--”

“It’s always one thing,” Laurie cuts him off, Andy sighs, “Don’t you see?” She asked. “We’re guilty too. If we protect her, we’re as guilty as she is.” Andy hisses and lifts up his hand, “All right. Just keep your voice down. You’re gonna freak out the dog.”

“I’m not even saying I know what to do about it, I don’t. But I know what I heard, and I know what it means,” She said. Andy held his hand up still, “Laurie, I’m begging you. Don’t talk yourself into something ‘cause of some made-up story.”

“It’s not a story,” She shook her head.

“Yes, it is!” Andy turns, “This is a girl that bullied her. Maybe did rape her. She probably fantasized about hurting her a thousand times. So she let her imagination run wild, and she wrote it down,” He tried not to yell as everything came out as a low whisper, “Maybe...” He sighs.

“Maybe she got some sick thrill imagining it. And is that horrible? Yes. It’s terrible, and it was wrong, and it was stupid, but it was a story,” He lowly says, he walks towards her. “Joanna vetted every single line from it. There wasn’t one detail that hadn’t already been reported by the news. She was fantasizing.”

“She was confessing,” Laurie said, Andy sighed and leaned on the counter, “To call it anything else is just lawyer spin, and you know it.” Andy turns around and walks back to where he originally was. His back was turned to her. “What if you knew?” Laurie asked, “What if you knew in your heart that our daughter did this unforgivable thing? Took the like of another child? Would it even matter?”

“I’d still love her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, it’s not. I’d still love her too,” Laurie held her hand to her heart, “I will always love her, no matter what.” Andy turns back to her. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to hold her tonight and tell her it’s all going to be okay. But I can’t play this game anymore, letting her pretend she didn’t do it, pretending to each other.”

“She’s not pretending. She didn’t do this. I know she didn’t do it,” Andy snaps.

“No, you don’t!” Milo peered up at the couple, “No one can sustain that level of deception-”

“Of course she could. You of all people should know that,” Laurie says. Andy leans back and lets out a scoff, seeing Laurie tear up, he shook his head, “Yeah. Yeah, of course. She learned it from me,” He shrugs.

“Maybe she learned it from both of us,” Laurie says. Andy looks over to her, seeing her look for an answer, “What do you want me to say Laurie? You’re right. Our marriage is a lie. Our whole fucking family is based on a fairy tale, built on nothing. And our daughter’s a murderer. Is that what you want to hear?” He asks.

Laurie shook her head, “No. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Andy stared at her before turning away and walked up the stairs without another word. Leaving Laurie in the kitchen sobbing.

That night, he was gonna take the couch. He made sure not to see Laurie the rest of the night. Not speak to her. Once he settled the things on the couch, he looked over to Milo who sat on the couch. Andy stared at him, “Down.” Milo jumps off and follows Andy to the backdoor.

Andy let Milo outside. The large dog spins to look at his boss who just stared and closed the door on him. Leaving Milo out in the cold. The dog sniffed the door and slightly scratched it. Snorting once, the hound turns and walks into the dog house that sat in the corner.

The next morning, the house was silent throughout the next hours. The sun shining through the home. Andy had slept on the couch. After the big argument, he wasn’t sure if Laurie wanted him in bed that night.

So he gave her space.

His phone began to buzz on the stand. His eyes fluttered open and he began to rub his eyes. Looking over the armrest, he sees his phone. Shuffling on the couch, he leans up to grab his phone. Squinting at it, he answers. “Yeah. Hey, Joanna. No, it’s okay.” Andy began to stretch on the couch, “What’s going on?” He grunts.

Sitting up with a sigh, he froze when Joanna gave the news. “What? When?”

After talking with Joanna, he knew he had to tell Laurie about it. He wasn’t sure to think it was good news or bad news. Either way it was messed up. He stepped into the bedroom and reaches for Laurie, “Laurie.” He sits down. “Honey.” His hand rubs her back.

“What?” She asks.

“It’s over,” He says. Laurie looks at him, “What?” Andy looked heartbroken, “He confessed. Patz.” Laurie was confused on what he was talking about, “I-- I don’t...”

“Joanna just called. Leonard Patz hung himself last night. He left a note for the Rifkins. It’s a full confession,” He says, Laurie began to sit up, “The cops just confirmed his handwriting.”

Laurie stares at him with the same look, “Are you sure?” Andy nods, “Yeah,” He sobs, “I know it doesn’t feel real, but it is. Joanna’s moving for a dismissal first thing this morning.”

“Oh, my...” Laurie whispers, “I was so... I thought--”

“Don’t,” Andy says, “Doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”

Though the suicide was unbelievable and very despairing. Andy and Laurie had to tell their 15-year-old daughter about her dismissal. So, they walked into her room. Seeing her laying on her bed asleep. Laurie was the first to hold her, “Y/N,” She whispers.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Andy says, Y/N inhales sharply and turns, “We got something to tell you.”

“Court, all rise. Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye. The Honorable Judge French presiding. This court’s now open. Please be seated,” With a small grin, Y/N and the rest of the courtroom sits down.

French raps the gavel, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, at 8:00 am, this morning, the Commonwealth filed a nolle prosequi announcing its decision to drop the charges against the defendant, Y/N Barber.” Joanna looks over to the distraught Neal Logiudice who failed his mission to prosecute an old friend’s kid.

“This is a response to recent development in the case you, no doubt, will be learning of shortly. The defendant will please rise,” French says. Y/N stands up for the Judge.

“Young lady, I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of here. So let me be the first to say to you the words you and your family are, no doubt longing to hear. Y/N Barber,” He states.

“You are now a free woman,”With the hit of the gavel, the spectators began to all clap causing Laurie and Andy to smile with glee. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as well, “Y/N M/N Barber in the matter of indictment 08-44-07, it is ordered by the court that you be discharged of this indictment and go without day. Bail posted shall be returned to the surety. Case dismissed.”

With more of the claps, Laurie stands up along with Andy, the two pull Y/N into a huge hug. And after that, they were free to go. But, of course, they would answer a few questions by the reporters that have been sitting outside.

The clicking sounds of their cameras and people holding their mics towards the woman. “Obviously, we are thrilled with this outcome. But as you can imagine, this family has been through a lot. So we’re gonna ask that you respect their privacy and allow them to process this ordeal. Thank you very much.”

“Y/N, how do you feel?” A woman calls out, Joanna looks over to her, letting her do her thing with the question. Y/N grins, “Uh, great.” The short pause was then interrupted by the clamoring of the reporters once the family began to step down. Police holding them back as Andy held Y/N by her shoulder to keep her close.

The four stepped out of the elevator and began to head toward their cars. Andy pulls out his keys and sighed, “Joanna, I don’t even have the words.”

“Oh, please,” Joanna grins. “Andy’s right,” Laurie says, “We couldn’t have gotten through any of this without you.” Joanna chuckles softly, “The best I could’ve done was a verdict of not guilty. This is a thousand times better. This is proof of innocence.” Andy grins.

Joanna held out her hand and Y/N took it with a smile, “Congratulations, young lady.”

“Thank you, Joanna,” Y/N says. Joanna nods, “I know that this has been rough for you. But I think that someday you’re gonna realize...” Y/N’s eyes look away to the figure who came from the stairs. Eric Miller. Alice’s dad. He began to storm up to the family and Y/N tensed up.

Then a bald man came up behind Eric. “Dad?” Y/N asks. Andy follows Y/N’s gaze and he sees Eric. “I know it was you,” Eric points, Laurie instantly pulls Y/N close to her while Andy jumps in front, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!” Andy shouts. Andy holds Eric back as he points at her. “I know it was you! I know it! I know it!”

Eric gets grabbed by the bald man in the blue Lincoln, “Whoa! Whoa!” Andy says as Eric gets pulled back and slammed onto the back of the car. “Let me go!” Eric sobs.

Andy turns to his girls, “Are you okay?” He looks back to the sobbing Eric. The bald man turns, “What do you want me to do with this guy? Want me to hold him for the cops or what?” He asked.

“No!” Eric shouts. Laurie knew the family was in much pain than they were. They went through enough, “No,” She says. “Let him go,” She nods. Eric sobs on the hood of the car while being pushed into it. “Please,” Laurie says.

The man pulls Eric up and pushes him back, “Come on. Get outta here.” Eric turns back to the family with Andy standing guard in front of his family. “She didn’t do it, Eric.”

And with that, Eric took that and walked away, wiping the tears off his cheeks as he headed back for the stairs. The man turns, “You okay, kid?” Andy looks over to him, “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m an old friend of your pop’s. He asked me to look out for you. Congratulations, by the way. I guess it was your lucky day, huh, kid?” Laurie held Y/N close. “Get in the car,” Joanna insists, helping the two girls over to Andy’s car.

Joanna looks up to Andy, “I’ll call you later.” Andy nods at her. With the man standing there, Laurie looks up to him and nods, “Thank you.” The man swats his hand, “Anything for old Billy.” Laurie jumped in the car while Andy was the last to get in.

“Make sure you give your old man my best, okay?” He asked. Andy slightly glares at the man one last time, before getting in his car without another word said to him.

They returned home to a street filled with new reporters and journalists. People taking photos as Andy drives up the driveway. The family stepped out and gave their grins towards the people while they headed back inside their home.

Ever since Y/N was freed by the charges, Andy knew there was no normal to go back to. There was a before. Then after. No one couldn’t get it out of their minds. Not even Laurie.

After their meal outside, Laurie thought to go through her daughter’s photo book. Seeing her as a baby. Growing up in every picture they had. She quietly cried as she flipped through every page.

“Hey, honey. I’m gonna make some coffee. You want some?” Andy comes in and looks around to see Laurie on the couch, crying. His face falters in worry, “Hey. What’s going on?” He comes near and sits next to her, instantly bringing his hand to her back.

“That day in court, when Derek read the story, I was so sure. In some crazy way, I was almost relieved. I thought ‘At least now I know’,” She sniffles. Laurie turned to look at him, “What kind of mother would think that about her child?”

Andy inhales softly, “You were under a ton of stress. We both were. That story shook me up too. More than I let on,” He says. Laurie felt his hand stroke her hair and looked up at him. He shook his head, “You just gotta let it go.”

Laurie nods, “I’m trying.” Andy grins sadly and takes the book out of her hands to place it behind him before he brought her into a hug.

~~~

The story is close to its end guys.

TAGS:

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thatweirdtranny · 4 years ago

Note

"You should've said that yesterday" for Supercorp.

so i know this prompt was sent to me so SO long ago and i’m very sorry it took me so long to do it, but i’ve been itching to play around with the idea of an AU where lena tells the world kara is supergirl at the pulitzer ceremony and a couple mosts making their way around my dashboard about it sort of inspired this angsty mess

enjoy!

prompt: “you should’ve said that yesterday”

“You should’ve known it would end this way.”

Lena’s voice is cold as she says it, as she dashes away Kara’s last hope that maybe, maybe it was all just the actions of someone deeply hurt unable to control her darker impulses. An impulse to hurt back, to be as ruthless as she thought the betrayal deserved. A spur of the moment decision that, once revisited, would be recognized for what it is.

Crossing a line.

Maybe, maybe Lena didn’t mean to burn it all down, Kara had reasoned as she dashed through the crowd, now going wild around her. She left Alex behind, scarcely hearing her sister’s calls for her or her harsh shouts at the crowd to back off as she called in the DEO to secure the area, to escort away everyone now clamoring towards Kara to bark out questions and snap pictures, the entire frothing mass of journalists who’d just been let in on the scoop of the century.

Kara Danvers is Supergirl, and now Kara Danvers is running away.

Away from the crowd, away from the flashing lights and cacophony of sound, away to somewhere she can breathe and figure out what the hell just happened.

She came out to Lena, and then Lena outed her to the world in a televised speech.

Maybe she didn’t mean it, maybe her world wasn’t crumbling around her, Kara had told herself between stuttered breaths as she stumbled out onto the roof of the building. But Lena had followed Kara out onto the rooftop after her Pulitzer speech, had walked to the ledge Kara sat at as she struggled to process the evening’s events, waiting for Kara to turn and look her in the eye before she bit out the words.

“You should’ve known it would end this way.”

And there it slips away, Kara’s last grasp at the chance this isn’t what it looks like. That Lena isn’t currently looking at her with all the venom she can muster and not a hint of regret on her face.

“Why?” Kara is surprised to find herself speaking, doesn’t feel like she’s remotely capable of anything right now. She’s been watching DEO agents escort the crowd of journalists out of the building entrance below her for several minutes and her phone hasn’t stopped buzzing in that time. She knows that by the time she gets home the news will be nothing but this -- big blazing letters on every channel proclaiming her secret to the world -- but… Rao. Can she even go home? Her apartment could be getting flocked right this very moment.

“Why should you have known?” Lena sneers.

“Why would you do this?” Kara says, voice hollow. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I’ve revealed to the world who you truly are: a liar.”

And Rao, it shouldn’t make her laugh. The situation definitely doesn’t call for it by any means, but all the same she finds it bubbling up within her. It’s not happy, it’s an unsettling laughter that drags on through the silence and it feels a lot like she’s giving voice to her undoing.

“How the fuck do you think aliens make it through the day? We lie,” Kara bites out between peels of giggles. Maybe she’s lost it, but the way Lena’s eyes widen a little at her curse just sends her back into her laughing fit. Lena can out her to the world but is shocked to hear the word fuck come out of her mouth.

It takes another minute for Kara to collect herself, during which Lena doesn’t say a word. Perhaps she’s unnerved at Kara’s strange reaction, perhaps she’s curious to see where Kara’s taking this, but nonetheless she remains silent until Kara speaks.

“You think there’s a single alien out there who doesn’t lie every fucking day to the world about what they are? It’s how we live, Lena! Lying to you was a mistake, the biggest mistake of my life because I hurt my best friend. But Rao, lying to the world was about surviving on this planet, and you burned every protection I had for myself and the people I love to the ground. So I’m asking again, do you really understand what exactly you’ve done?”

A pause, then, “Do you understand that everyone I care about is a target now? Do you understand that, Lena? Did you even think about that?”

And this is what finally makes Lena break her stony cold expression. Her jaw drops open slightly, like she’s on the edge of saying something, but Kara doesn’t get a chance to hear it. She’s honed in on another sound, the signal of one of her watches coming from a direction she knows is Midvale.

In an instant she’s gone, leaving behind only a gust of wind and a gaping Lena in her wake.

*********

Kara feels hollow.

Comforting words from Alex and a chorus of “She’ll be okay” and “Eliza will be back on her feet in no time” from her friends do nothing for her. Not when she can’t even visit Eliza in the hospital without bringing swarms of people wherever she goes, reporters throwing invasive questions, passerby gawking and bringing attention to the people she’s already put in enough danger.

Alex had wiped a few stray tears from behind Kara’s glasses -- Why is she even bothering to wear them anyway? -- and told her in her strong and steady big-sister voice, “The craze will die down eventually. We can figure this out, Kara, I promise. Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?” to which Kara had given an unconvincing nod before taking off.

But now, Kara finds herself with nowhere to go. The DEO sectioned off her apartment after discovering it was broken into during the night. CatCo is a no-go too. The discovery that Lena had sent incriminating videos of her using her powers as Kara Danvers just felt like another nail in her coffin, and in the hours since then it’s become more and more clear that this isn’t a storm she can simply wait out.

And so, with nowhere to go, she finds herself sitting cross-legged on the ledge of a roof, the roof of what should be her favorite building but now just makes her stomach twist, and waits for her presence to become noticed as she knows it will. She doesn’t wait long before she hears heals clicking against the cement, noting how the sound still quickens her heart and brings warmth despite how very wrong things have gone between them.

“I like what you’ve done to the roof. The solar panels and rooftop aeroponics greenhouse system is a nice touch,” Kara says as the clicking comes to a stop just behind her, a sad smile crossing her lips.

Lena’s heartbeat is different today, quicker and with a stutter that Kara’s come to associate with nerves from the Luthor. But when she hovers in midair and turns, lighting down in front of her favorite person, Lena’s face is remarkably similar to their last encounter: unyielding, stony, not unlike the expression Lena turns out for rude businessmen who talk down to her because she’s a young woman at the top of her fields.

It’s the sight of Lena looking at her like she’s worse than a stranger that has the words tumbling out of Kara’s mouth.

“I really went and made a mess of things, didn’t I?”

If Lena’s surprised at this, she doesn’t show it, but it’s all Kara’s thought about since their last encounter. She’s angry, furious even, at Lena for what she’s done, of course. But Kara knows, with absolute shame, that it all comes back to her. Years were spent living a double life to her best friend, deceiving her, putting her in danger all the while, and she understands perfectly well why Lena lashed out the way she did upon discovering the betrayal.

“How long did you know?” Kara asks, and she can’t mask the exhaustion that seeps into her voice. The last twenty-four hours have exhausted her beyond recognition, but she needs to know how long Lena had been sitting with the information of her identity. “You had videos of me going back months, it’s pretty clear you didn’t find out when I told you yesterday.”

“Weeks,” Lena says, almost curtly, and Kara fights a wince at the short tone. “It felt fitting, using the same video files Lex used to show me the truth to show the rest of the world.”

“He told you?” Kara asks. Lena’s icy indifference hardens into a kind of wrathful glare. Kara doesn’t back down, only sighs. “I just want to understand. If this is it, if it’s really over between us, I need the full picture of why it all burned down.”

“You say that like we were in love,” Lena retorts, and Rao that almost makes Kara laugh.

“Weren’t we?” Kara murmurs, waiting as Lena’s mask slips for just a moment.

In that moment, the anguish washes over her face like a tidal wave before the brunette quickly and carefully knits her expression back into one of stony indifference, and Kara has her answer.

“Look, I know I’m not always great at social cues, but I knew what we had. Knew what it was turning into, and I’m sorry I screwed it all up with my lies. I can’t fix it, and I don’t intend to diminish your pain by asking you to just get past it, and maybe nothing is salvageable anyway.” Kara’s voice wavers near the end, and she finds herself slipping the glasses from her face and hooking them over her shirt pocket so she can more easily wipe away her tears. She doesn’t bother to put them back on, there’s no point now. “But why couldn’t your revenge just be on me? Why do other people have to suffer because I screwed up?”

Lena’s eyes hone in on Kara’s movements, the removal of her glasses. She watches her like Kara really is a stranger, and Kara didn’t think it would burn as much as it does. It takes Lena a moment to respond to Kara’s question.

“What are you talking about?”

“Eliza was attacked last night. I barely managed to get to her in time.” Anger bleeds into Kara’s voice as she says it, but she can’t help it. Every safeguard protecting her loved ones is gone, and as much as she understands Lena’s side to it, she can’t help the part of her that’s burning with fury at it all. Lena opens her mouth as if to speak, but Kara cuts her off. “She’s okay, mostly. A few bumps and bruises, a grade three concussion, but nothing she won’t heal from.”

“I… that’s not what I wanted.”

“You think I don’t know that? I know you, Lena. I know you never want anyone to get hurt, I know you probably assumed I’d be fine because I’m practically indestructible, but the people around me aren’t!” Kara is yelling now, crying and yelling and damn it, it’s all so wrong. “Everyone I love is a target now, and that damn well includes you!”

“Oh, don’t go pretending I wasn’t a target before!” Lena’s voice has risen to a yell too. “I’m a Luthor, I already have assassins after me every few months. And my working relationship with Supergirl has never been a secret.”

“You think a working relationship with Supergirl is the same as what the world now assumes we are?” Kara throws back. “All my coworkers have seen us on lunch dates. They’ve seen you showing up to invite me to galas. They’ve read every tooth-rotting article I’ve ever written about you. I have super hearing Lena, I know they make jokes about us, the crushes we obviously have on one another. Half of them assume we’re already dating! And with your speech last night, coming off like a lover’s quarrel or something, well… you do the math! These people are journalists, Lena, at a paper that’s become all about gossip. What do you think they’ve been writing about for the last day? Have you even checked? Because I have, and it’s not just me dominating the papers right now. It’s you and me.”

“I… we’re not together…”

“That doesn’t matter. Not to the people writing these articles, not to my very super-powered enemies who now know exactly who to use to hurt me most. Rao, Lena, what would I even do if they… if they hurt you to get to me?”

“You…” Kara doesn’t think she imagines the way Lena’s eyes soften momentarily, but it doesn’t last long. “No, you don’t get to go pretending we were… that we were anything more than another lie.”

“Well, I’m not going to convince you of the contrary at this point I guess, and after spending the day thinking of all the places I can’t go instead of being able to spend it with Eliza in the hospital -- you know, because being near her puts her in worse danger now -- I’m not feeling up to trying right now,” Kara says, every bit the girl of steele with how hard her voice becomes. “Whatever, what’s done is done. You want us to be in the past? Fine, but I still need to give you this.”

“And what is this exactly?” Lena says, taking the watch offered to her with trepidation.

“Open it, there’s a button you can press that’ll send out a signal I can hear and I’ll come straight away. If you ever need me, all you have to do is call.”

“I don’t understand.” Lena appears genuinely taken aback at what she’s being offered. It’s a place in Kara’s life, a level of care and protection she hadn’t expected after everything. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I need you safe, Lena. I thought that much was clear.”

And with that, Kara moves to leave, having nothing else to say. She’s about to take off again, maybe spend the night in the DEO until she can figure where she’s going to live now that a loft in the city is no longer feasible, before Lena’s shout stops her.

“Wait! I’m sorry for putting your friends and family in danger. I can have each of their homes equipped with the highest security systems there are, same as mine.”

A pause, then, quieter, “I’ll help you protect them, Kara.”

Kara turns back, all sad smiles and regret. She hasn’t made a move to put her glasses back on, and she doesn’t intend to. There’s no point.

“You should’ve said that yesterday,” Kara says. “But thanks.”

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #prompt meme #my writing #writing tag #asks #again so sorry it took me so long to do this prompt i am a potato #boardgamer88

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vore-scientist · 5 years ago

Text

The Panicking Prince

(A humorous little adventure containing Lots of GT interaction and some safe, soft, M/f GT vore, platonic and willing)

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Full title: In Which Prince Yonatan Does The Books

Summary: Prince Yonatan discovers some information that about the fate of the kingdom. This causes him to panic so he runs off to find his sister the Princess Sophia and the Giant Wizard, Yonah.

Warnings: No real warnings. I will mention that Yonatan is 16 years old but he’s NOT the one eaten (It’s Sophia as usual). There’s an almost minor vorish moment involving him, but it’s silly. It’s all silly actually.

---

In a well lit room in a high tower of the Castle in the City of Luster in the Kingdom of Orr sat a prince. A prince surrounded by scrolls, notebooks, files, boxes, and cabinets. This prince was almost 17 years old, which was unusually young to be handling the paperwork of an entire kingdom. Especially since the Kingdom Of Orr was not one kingdom, it was two, as many centuries ago the King of Orr was picked to be the King of the Mystic Woods. And ever since then the new Mystic King maintained the claim on Orr.

But Prince Yonatan was not a usual prince. He had been cursed at 8 days old, at his naming day, by the Ivory and Bronze Fairy Courts. They imbued him with intelligence and wisdom beyond his years. On the Prince’s 9th day of life he spoke in full sentences, the first of which he used to critique his feeding/sleeping schedule. And on the 10th day had set up a system that had him feeding, sleeping, and relieving himself on an extremely exact timetable. And it only got worse from there.

With a mind hungry for knowledge but so full of new thoughts, the poor prince was constantly in need of diversions. Play with his siblings could occupy his body well enough; wrestling, tag, hide and seek, sword fighting, and climbing through areas of the castle they had no business being in. But as conversationalists went, they weren’t engaging. He chatted with Royal Philosophers until he ran circles around their theories, and his father’s political advisors until he could contribute to their machinations, which he often put a stop to before some sort of scandal got out.

No advisor had successfully lead a power grab let alone a coup. but every time one got close it was a whole do-to. Now such things only happened Once in a while, when Yonatanlet one slip his notice, just to keep things lively.

A few years ago he’d taken up a new hobby.

The bookkeeping of Two Kingdoms was a daily task, one that Yonatan found extremely relaxing. With constant fresh information, it never got boring, and he could concentrate entirely on it. No more of his mind wandering and making him worry.

See. Yonatan has anxiety. Bad anxiety. For all his wisdom, his brain was constantly racing and all those thoughts were so overwhelming, especially ones about the probabilities of disasters, or outcomes of potential wars, or that he was a terrible brother because of his curse, or that the royal advisors secretly resented him and were planning his assassination, or maybe or that his brain might one day just pop, or perhaps...

You get the point.

When he did the kingdom’s books, he had no such thoughts. At least, not as many.

You might think such work is boring, and yes, stuff like guild dues and which portions could be taxed, or reviewing the fluctuations in prices of basic goods and preparing to subsidize things for winter are certainly borning. But tracking the latest dragon sightings and the current standings of registered and known unregistered heroes and villains was exciting.

Managing the FairyTales was an important job that Yonatan took great pleasure in. Reviewing and updating the current status of prophecies and their subjects, with calendars of known and calculated trigger dates and references of contingency plans for both disasters and celebrations. Following Long Lost (or recently lost) Heirs and their last known locations, with information on anyone noteworthy or particularly unnoteworthy having passed through them. Keeping logs of treasure hauls taken in and given out by heroes and villains, making note of any (interesting) magic items. The latest word on magic items of secret but great renown, and any rumors involving their being lost, stolen, or found.

And all of this and more! Organized so that the right information was disseminated to the right people. Information becoming instruction, and instruction becoming action. Many actions taken simply to influence others, in large and small ways. For example: Pushing people to influence some tale. Such people might never know they were part of a tale. They might have just been spurred on to tell a potential hero a small piece of information, or offer them a meal or place to stay for a night.

All this made sure that FairyTales continued to be Told.

You get the idea.

But the prince was also trusted with monitoring some of the more sensitive information. Of note in this instance: Anomalous magical spikes in the Mystic Woods.

The Mystic Woods was always shifting, but it was crucial to note where things were when interesting events occurred. Even if the event was merely a surge of forest magic, detected by a ranger or King Ben himself. Most of the time it was just a flare up as the mysterious currents of magic swirled around and collected. Or King Ben bit his tongue and for some reason the Mystic Woods reacted.

Lately, a lot of the flares had been accompanied by little bits of good fortune! A tree being cured by disease, a swarm of insects cleared away, a rare magical berry bush bearing fruit for the first time in decades. Or were in locations inhabited by many of the mystic woods communities. Villages of Elves or colonies of gnomes, all who benefited in small ways from the flares. What nice things! Knowing good things were happening made Yonatan feel very good!

Unfortunately, that mood was soon to be soured. As he reviewed the flares his super-fairy-magic-enhanced brain made some connections.

What had he been reading yesterday?

Though he wasn’t technically permitted to read the reports between King Ben and the Royal Wizard, and Evil Giant, known as Yonah HaEsh. Yonatan liked to know how his favorite sister was doing.

Even if Yonatan had trouble connecting to his siblings, he still loved them, and they loved him. But Sophia… She was special to him. Her carefree attitude taught him to act without thinking; With his brains and her wildness, they had been quite the pair of troublemakers. There was rarely a dull moment with her. And unlike his other siblings, who brushed off his anxiety attacks as just Yonatan’s Magic Brain Weirdness, she would help him. It was incredible how someone so unfettered could also be so steady.

Many a night he had run to her in tears over some fear, like how according to some calculations, the moon would crash down in a few hundred years, wiping out all life. She never got mad at him for waking her up, and she’d hold him as he cried himself to sleep.

Adjusting to her being officially “kidnapped” by an evil wizard had been difficult to say the least. That was almost 2 years ago. It made him feel better to know she was thriving under the care of her captor. Even if he missed her dearly.

Back to the reports.

There had been several odd happenstances while she was on patrols with Yonah. Patrols were something Yonah had been doing long before Sophia had been assigned to him, and it was mainly the half-giant’s way of not going stir crazy. Explorations out in the forest; limited by the 5km range that Yonah could go from his tower, usually just to see what was around, but also to hunt and collect spell components. Yonah had at some point noted that when he went out with Sophia, they would encounter more interesting places and situations.

A few of those places had surges of magic, mostly after, but sometimes before, Sophia encountered them. Many of these places had been having some sort of trouble, and it was clear from the ShiftLogs, that they shifted within a few hours of Sophia and Yonah’s patrol.

Yonah even noted, almost a year and a half ago, that the forest was easier to navigate when he took Sophia with him.

Almost as if…

Yonatan’s genius brain had made a connection but it was not letting him actually think it. But he knew what it was. And his heart started to pound loudly and painfully against his ribs. Sweat beaded on his brow and his hands felt clammy.

Oh no.

No no no no no.

Now he was panicking. Panic was bad! It hurt! No! He hated this!

He could be wrong. Easily! This kind of thing never happened. It was probably just coincidence. But no such thing existed in their world That had been proven long ago by some amazing sages. There was nothing he could do about it if he was right. He had to calm down. Once he was calm he could… right.

Nothing doing.

Just panic.

---

It had been a long while since he’d had an anxiety attack like this one. He couldn’t do any more work, instead he ran manic around the hallways until dinner time, where he ate barely anything and what he did he threw up shortly after. And sleep? Out of the question.

Unless.

What time even was it? About an hour till midnight? Didn’t really matter. Still in his pajamas Prince Yonatan used one of the secret passages to get out of the castle. One that led to the stables so he could take his horse. Otherwise the trip would take a day.

Still, he only rode Soos up to the Mystic Woods. Soos’ full name was Stubborn Old Ornery Stallion. Even though Soos wasn’t more than a few years old. Yonatan liked his horse and hoped he would live long enough to live up to name.

It was a smooth 3 hour ride out of the city and past the farms and rolling hills. There wasn’t a defined border but once the trees got decently thick yet still lacked magic, he had Soos stop. Soos whinnied and stomped his hooves a bit annoyed.

“Just checking,” Yonatan said, “You don’t have to come with me.” Even for a son of the Mystic King, the Woods was incredibly foreboding, especially at night.

Soos’ ears flicked as if to say ‘Excuse me? I was bred for use in this forest.’

“Alrighty then!”

Without another thought (which was a considerable feat), Yonatan spurred Soos back into a trot, and into the woods. There was no point in picking a direction, he had to trust the forest.

Back in the City of Luster there was panic. No one knew where Prince Yonatan was. Ben extended his awareness but sensed nothing. He wasn’t unduly worried since Yonatan was too clever for his own good, but that didn’t mean there was no reason for concern. And so he woke up the entire city, having his guards spread out to ask anyone if they’d seen or spoken to the prince.

That will have to be dealt with later, as by now Yonatan had made it to his destination.

No surprises here: it’s the Terrible Tower which conditionally belongs to the Great (and also) Terrible Yonah HaEsh. The current prison of Yonatan’s sister, the Princess Sophia. The tower sat to one side of a clearing which now held a mage’s garden. No matter how the forest shifted, Yonatan had never come into the clearing behind the tower, it was always on the side with the garden.

He had also never been here at night. There was very little moon, but there were a few plants that luminesced. Not very brightly; when he emerged into the clearing with his lantern the lights diminished. But he needed to see the path to the tower.

There was no way to get Soos up it, but Soos didn’t want to go inside, he’d much rather stay in the garden. He knew which plants were safe to eat, and was confident no monsters would come here, not ones looking to eat horses anyways. No, if a monster were to come they would be here for the wizard, probably after some potion or spell. Monsters, like humans, needed the services of mages, but were more comfortable dealing with other monsters.

Yonatan removed Soos’ saddle, leaning it up against the tower, and started climbing.

Not so easy in slippers… Thankfully the large thorns were just illusions. He made it up no problem, and keeping in mind the spacial dilation he hopped to the floor.

The workshop, which looked normal from where he’d sat on the windowsill, suddenly became nearly 4 times larger. Having expected this he rolled out of his fall. His slippers made soft pat pat pat noises as he walked briskly to the trap door which was unfortunately closed but for those in the know, and Yonatan was, there was a secret human sized door. That led to the conveniently human sized stairs that ran alongside the large ones. In fact, the only way to access those stairs was through that entrance.

From the workshop course. Once you were in the tower proper, as long as you knew the stairs existed, they would graciously appear for you. This was a feature that Yonah had added since Sophia’s arrival, as well as a few well placed and magically hidden ladders and ropes.

The desired room clear in Yonatan’s mind, it was only one flight down to the hallway that led to the bedroom. The massive door had a very much not hidden crack in the lower right corner, perfectly irresistible to any sneaking thief. Though these days it got more use by Princess Sophia when she needed the bathroom at night.

Ignoring the half-giant asleep in his bed, Yonatan made a beeline for the massive golden birdcage that rested next to the nightstand. Though he wasn’t checking on Sophia. To get up to the bed he had to climb on the outside of the cage up to the nightstand and jump the very safe distance from the nightstand to the bed. He still looked down and climbed carefully just in case.

The Princess Sophia was not in the bed which hung suspended off center in the cage. He continued to climb up as quietly as possible. Best not to make noises that would wake up the giant in an irritable manner.

Which is why he took a running leap off nightstand, landing with a soft PUFF on the pillow. Right next to the giant’s head. But Yonah did not stir.

The half-giant slept with his back to the wall, on his left side, angled downward. Left arm tucked under two pillows, right arm lazily hung around the pillow. If Sophia had been sleeping on Yonah’s person she would have been curled up in that right arm, against the giant’s face. She was not.

Well. Fine. That was her prerogative. Yonatan wasn’t here for her anyways. Well he was but not just yet. First he needed the half-giant. He knelt down Yonah’s face. Trickles of dim orange light escaped through the eyelids. The prince was a bit nervous about waking the wizard, but it had to be done. He experimented first by tapping the giant’s nose.

The deep breaths turned into stilted gasps and snuffles, the giant starting to become aware of a human guest.

“Uh, Mr Giant?”

One dimly glowing eye cracked open to look at him in confusion.

“Eh?” The giant grunted. Then the right arm lifted and before Yonatan could react he was slapped down under a massive palm. It had been a lazy move, so he wasn’t injured, rather he was gently pressed into the pillow. Yonatan didn’t resist.

After running all the way here Yonatan had escaped the majority of his anxiety, and the weight of the hand was pushing the rest away, and the warmth was extremely relaxing. Which, while part of his plan, this not exactly how he pictured spending the night. It was not comfortable.

After another minute he pushed the hand off and he sat in front of the Giant’s face. Yonah had started to fall asleep again.

“Where’s my sister?” Yonatan hissed.

It took a few seconds before the giant grunted out “Iher?”

“My sister. Sophia” Yonatan helped.

Yonah took a breath and with some effort said something in Implausible Giant and even though Yonatan was fluent it was garbled. But the giant had said it with a slight smile. The prince didn’t need to be a genius to know Yonah had eaten Sophia. As long as he didn't think about it too hard it shouldn’t be a problem. Of course Yonatan thought very hard about most things.

And if you’re wondering why Yonatan wasn’t concerned that his sister was eaten by a half giant, maybe you’re thinking Yonatan thought of her as being in his way? And having his sister eaten was one less person ahead of him in the line of succession. No. He knew his sister was safe and snug in her giant’s stomach. The half-giant had half-cursed her so that she couldn’t be digested and didn’t need to breathe.

But he could and he did!!! And the very sleepy giant’s hand got hold of him once more and shoved him towards the face. Without much trouble one of his legs was forced between the jaws! It was painful too, not because Yonah was biting him, just the contortion of his hips. His other leg was bent and his knee was against Yonah’s fangs. Yonatan yelled, quietly, and punched Yonah in the nose.

“No you stupid giant I’m not Sophia! You already ate her!”

That got Yonah’s attention. He released the human’s leg and smacked his lips as he blinked into almost full consciousness.

“That’s better!” Yonatan stroked Yonah’s nose, he knew the giant liked that a lot. “I Hope you enjoyed that little treat, but I’m not on the menu.”

The giant’s eyes flitted open, the soft orange light focusing on the prince. “You taste,” the giant breathed in and out, “like you sister.” He smiled a bit mischievously.

“I know I do, that’s why I’m not angry,” said Yonatan. “But don’t do that again unless I give you permission.”

“Hmf,” Yonah breathed sharply, “You never do.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

“And what?” he sighed, “Is yours?” Yonah genuinely wanted to know. He liked the prince. Yonatan might be pompous but he had a good heart.

Yonatan pouted and looked away, “I’m. Anxious.”

Yonah took the prince in his hand again, his palm against Yonatan’s back. Once Yonatan leaned into his hand he stroked and massaged the human. Using his knuckles against the prince’s back, taking his arms between fingers, squeezing and rubbing gently but firmly.

“You always are, I want to know why, Little Prince,” said Yonah with a little more sternness.

Yonatan linked an arm around Yonah’s fingers, squeezing them to get Yonah’s full attention. He looked right into the giant’s eyes, and even with the glow he could see his reflection.

“Can. I sleep first?” Yonatan yawned, “Here? With you?”

Yonah sighed, and gave the prince a squeeze back.

Back in school, his friends that knew he was half-giant were insistent that they sleep cuddled up to him before exams. All of them piled on top of him, in his arms, They would sleep so soundly even if they were terrified. It was a power he did not understand, but folks tended to sleep more soundly if he was holding them, or they were laying on him. Not that he minded, he absolutely loved being adorned in friends.

“Of course.”

He also knew Yonatan wasn’t above ordering him around, even if the prince didn’t technically have that authority. The kid, who was almost a young adult, was very commanding. Yonah angled himself a bit more towards the prince, hooking his arm around his face so the prince could crawl into his embrace, which Yonatan did without being prompted. Curling up with his back to the giant.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Yonah asked one more time.

“No.’

He wasn’t expecting that answer and expressed his surprise with a small snort of air at the prince’s back. The prince did not look at him.

“I’m too tired to deal with it, and can’t sleep because of it,” he said very quietly.

Yonah made a grunt of understanding. Whatever ‘it’ was, the prince would handle it better after a proper night’s sleep. Or at least some sleep. The prince had amazing timing, it was barely ten minutes since he and Sophia had woken up to the HourGlass’s alarm, and reset her curse. So the prince had at least 3 and half solid hours of sleep to look forward to.

Yonatan buried his face in the giant’s arm. It was so soft and warm, and friendly. That was what he needed after all, a friendly presence. Before that had always been Sophia, holding him tightly as he cried and shivered. But this was leagues beyond that;He could feel his mind and body calming down so rapidly it was almost alarming. And then he was asleep.

---

Yonah was thankful that Sophia woke up first, waking him so he could stop the HourGlass before it gave them all a painful headache.

He was a bit miffed when Sophia re-activated her curse, mumbling something about still needing sleep and ‘you can wait a few more hours for breakfast right?’ but not waiting for an answer before falling back asleep. He could of course wake her back up, but if Sophia didn’t want to be spat out there wasn’t much he could do without invasive magics.

“Morning already?”

Even trying hard not to disturb the prince, Yonah had to lean over to reach the HourGlass. Yonatan had still woken.

“Yes. you can sleep longer if you like,” Yonah said, “but I’m getting up.”

“No. no. I’m good,” Yonatan freed himself from Yonah’s arms, stumbling off the pillow and onto the nightstand. The prince didn’t look very rested, but Yonah didn't argue with him.

Yonatan’s head throbbed a bit, mostly from lack of sleep but also from his wild ride of mania last night. He made himself focus on the waking wizard. It did not escape his Attention that yonah was not spitting up his sister. The half-giant sat up and the bed sheet fell off of him, Yonatan could see the wizard’s slightly full midsection. No movement either, but it was hard to tell as Yonah yawned and stretched. To take his mind off that he looked at Yonah’s face.

His normally trim goatee was lost a bit in the surrounding beard, and Yonah’s wild hair had come out of it’s golden bands so it hung over his shoulders like a lion’s mane. He yawned again and Yonatan got a good view of the large fangs.

Yonatan wanted to say something now, but decided to wait until the wizard changed out of his pajamas. He used magic do it and Yonatan loved watching people use magic. And once Yonah was properly dressed Yonatan realized he was in PJs too. Ok, get dressed first, then talk.

“Is there a chance you have clothes that fit me?” Yonatan asked.

“Actually, yes,” Yonah said, in a soft voice, picking up the prince and placing him on top of the chest of drawers where he kept his clothes. There was a human sized wardrobe on top.

“It’s magic,” Yonah prompted.

Yonatan opened it and found a few simple clothes that were indeed his size, though it was mostly outfits that were clearly meant for Sophia. A green one stood out to him, green usually did. Must be something about being a royal of the Mystic Woods. You always looked your best in green.

“If you want privacy, step inside,” Yonah indicated the wardrobe.

Oh! Fascinating. Yonatan stepped through and found a small open circular dressing room, with a carpeted floor, racks of clothing all around, and a mirror. Brightly lit though no obvious light source; Yonatan decided that mystery could be dealt with later.

He walked out with purpose and Yonah put a hand on the dresser so Yonatan could walk across to his shoulder.

“Would you like breakfast, Your Highness?” Yonah said, still keeping his voice soft but managing to be snarky.

Yonatan elbowed the giant in and for his cheek.

“Yes,” he said.

Breakfast made him remember...

“So. Uh…. Sophia-“ Yonatan started to ask as Yonah headed towards the kitchen. From his bedroom to a short hallway to the stairs and up the stairs.

“She wanted to sleep more,” he said with a kind of wistful sigh.

The giant was walking with an incredibly smooth gate; gliding. He put a hand to his middle as he spoke, smiling. “We had a pretty intense evening on patrol.”

Yonatan nodded.

Accepting that Sophia’s captor/mentor/best friend regularly ate her was pretty easy. Once the curse was explained. Stupid, extremely unnerving, but not hard to understand. Giants ate people after all, at least evil ones did, and Yonah was an evil giant. What was difficult to wrap his mind around was that Sophia liked it. No. Loved it. She’d been in there for over 8 hours now. And what was he, her brother doing about it?

Sitting casually on Yonah’s shoulder like she was just asleep in her bed! But she was in Yonah’s stomach! That was so WEIRD! The more he thought about it the weirder it got! So he had to stop thinking about it. Not easy when he instinctively looked down from his perch and had a perfect view of the giant's gut. Pleasantly stuffed is how Yonatan might describe it, though it was even more disconcerting that his mind considered it at all pleasant.

He looked forward; They entered the kitchen. But he didn’t really want to think about food now. Of course he didn’t say so, because he knew Yonah would wonder if he was sick. Explaining was out of the question. That meant he would have to force himself to eat whatever the giant served him and hope he could hold it down.

Yonah put him down on the dining table, which had a smaller, human sized table placed on it, and began gathering his supplies.

“HEY! I WANT TO WATCH!” Yonatan shouted. He did not want to be left alone to his thoughts even for a moment.

Shhhh!

Yonah glared at him, pointing to his stomach then his ears “Please, you can be quiet, I can hear you just fine.” He put the prince back on his shoulder.

As soon as Yonah started cooking, all of Yonatan's previous queasiness went away. Sophia had expounded upon the giant’s prowess as a chef but hearing about it and smelling it were two different things.

And eating it was something else entirely.

As soon as everything was on the table Yonatan practically inhaled the food. It was really just scrambled eggs and some sautéed vegetables but the best he’d ever had in his life. Yonah really knew his spices and had precision timing to make the softest eggs. Also… he technically hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. Having an anxiety attack takes a lot of energy, so the prince was ravenous.

Though Yonah had made more than enough for himself, he hadn’t gotten himself a plate. He’d turned the stove off and covered the pan with the eggs to keep them warm. What he did get was a cup of morning tea, and one for Yonatan as well, which he poured and cooled off with magic.

“I take it you wont eat-”

“Until your sister wakes? No. -” he chuckled and yet sounded a bit angry about that. He must be hungry too, and having an indigestible weight in his stomach didn’t change that.

“But- the tea?” He took a sip and was unsurprised to find it was unbelievably good. Probably made with magic leaves from the garden.

“She’s not awake to complain about it,” he grinned, taking another sip, as if he would still drink it even if she were.

It did not escape Yonatan’s notice that Yonah was watching him eat with hunger in his eyes. Thankfully his extreme wisdom let him know it was more jealousy, as he continued to shovel eggs into his princely mouth, than a desire to eat him. Though that was there. Maybe someday, but Yonatan was determined to deny the giant for as long as possible.

“So, little prince, what exactly prompted you to come running into my clutches last night?”

The prince swallowed his mouthful of food and took a long drink of chilled apple and blueberry juice which Yonah had gotten from his cold cellar.

“I- Kinda wanted Sophia to be around-” Yonatan looked away, and took another bite of food to stall for another half a minute. “Well- I- I was going through father’s notes and I found something. Something important, about the fate of the kingdom.”

“Now I’m worried I shouldn’t be hearing this,” Yonah said, “You were going through Ben’s notes?”

The prince’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, “HA!” quickly he quieted down remembering his sister- “I do father’s books all the time. He’s taken full advantage of my accursed brain.”

Was that pity in the giant’s face? “Yonah, I’m grateful for the work. It keeps my mind occupied, or I’d be having breakdowns every other day!”

After a moment's consideration Yonah nodded.

“I’m surprised Ben’s brain can’t hold it all, considering it’s got all the power of the Mystic Woods,” Yonah mused.

“The Mystic Woods, for all it is a large entity, doesn’t understand economics or politics, or even the intricacies of the FairyTales it hosts” Yonatan pointed out, again Yonah nodded.

“Anyways,” Yonatan pulled the conversation back on track, “I saw in his notes, some observations. Ones that correlated with Sophia’s escapades in the Woods.”

“And?” Yonah asked, but he had a feeling he knew what Yonatan was about to say.

“And- I could be wrong. But. The forest. It seems to like her, favor her.” He gulped, his voice getting higher and shaky, “Sophia- She. I think she’s already been chosen. As the next Mystic King.”

The wizard’s face darkened and he put a hand over his stomach again, while the other tightened around tea cup. Yonatan was sitting up straight, worried he’d made a terrible mistake. How would you react if you were told your best friend in the whole wide world was going to be someday joined in a magical hivemind, the other member of which was a mysterious and powerful gestalt entity. What if you were suddenly made aware that the next magical King of the kingdom you lived in, was sleeping in your stomach?

“Yonatan,” He growled, but it was breathy. “I am so very glad you did not wait.”

Yonatan refocused, “Wait for what?

“You are lucky Sophia is still asleep in my stomach.”

It was REALLY weird to hear him say it so casually, even if the moment wasn't so casual. Cold sweat beaded on Yonatan’s brow.

“We- Your father and I, we aren’t going to tell her,” he continued.

A million thoughts flooded Yonatan’s brain but one screamed to the surface.

“YOU KNOW?”

Yonah’s eyes shimmered behind his thick spectacles. “Yes. We suspected it almost half a year ago, but confirmed it a few months ago.”

A FEW MONTHS. Now Yonatan couldn’t believe he’d only found out last night. This had been deviously kept out of the reports. No. Wait. There had been changes, exactly 6 months ago, towards more patrols, more missions involving the forest and gauging the response. And more recently, a lot more lessons on the history of the woods and its communities, and how she applied them in her outings. Recently, she’d been learning spells and potions that relied on drawing magic from around her, seeing if the forest would allow its use. And she had no idea she was even doing it. Using magic like the King, but on a much smaller level.

“You’re…” Yonatan looked into Yonah’s eyes to see a few tears had escaped down his cheeks, “You’re training her. Without her knowledge.”

“You’re worried, too” he continued, “That she’s doing to end up like dad, that you’re going to lose her. And!” his mind hit one new thought, great thoughts. “You’re worried that all this work is going to make it worse. Like if only you sabotaged it, she’ll be rejected, or it won’t take as much of her. ”

Yonah stiffened. Right. Wisdom.

The prince stood up and walked over to the giant, and sat on his wrist, patting his arm. Now Yonah was the one shaking. His glasses fogged up, and he tightened his grip on his middle. Yonatan was processing this new information, gathering handfuls of the wizard’s arm hair.

“Yonah,” Yonatan breathed, his heart slowing but lifting considerably “I had no idea you were training her. I freaked out because I too saw Sophia being… taken by The Woods. But Father is... the way he is, well, because to become one with the forest, he had to sacrifice some of his personhood.”

Removing his hand from his stomach before he woke Sophia, he placed it over Yonatan’s knees, and the prince rested a hand over the fingers. A few drops of liquid hit the large knuckles. He must be crying too, but he was smiling so big it hurt.

“Damn my father.” Yonatan chuckled, “You’re training her so she can avoid that fate. She’s becoming part of the forest in advance to joining with its essence.”

He wiped his tears, “Yonah,” he said, and made sure the giant was looking at him through clear lenses, “If you do your job properly, Sophia will be the most powerful King in the history of the Woods. But we won't lose her.”

The giant was smiling too, “I was worried” he sniffed “you stupid perceptive smartass.”

“It’s a blessing. Sometimes,” Yonatan giggled and let the giant scoop him up into a hug.

The hug was a bit tighter than felt safe, but Yonatan didn’t protest. He was grateful the giant held him above his stomach. Beneath him he felt the beating of the giant’s heart. Noticeably quick but along with the prince’s was slowing down.

It had been the right decision to come here after all. Maybe the Woods had called to him somehow, when he figured it out, dragging him out here because he was needed. And he needed this too. If he hadn’t told Yonah, he wouldn’t have known Sophia was being trained, and wouldn’t have figured out what that meant. Yonah would have been left to believe he was training his best friend to become an emotionless vessel.

Then Yonah started and breathed in sharply. He dropped Yonatan onto the table.

“She’s awake. Excuse me,” he said and into the stairwell.

Yonatan couldnt imagine what floor Yonah had gone to but it was clearly nearby as he heard the muffled retching.

Ten minutes later Yonah returned with a smiling Sophia sitting on his shoulder. From Yonah’s now clean shaven goatee he deduced that Yonah had spit her up in the bathroom. Sophia was wearing her day clothes, which she must have slept in, but she was completely immaculate. Not even a hair out of place in her massive braid. She even had on her golden tiara.

“Yonatan!” she hopped off Yonah’s shoulder the moment he was near enough to the table.

She ran up to her brother and embraced him, “When did you get here?”

Yonatan tried very hard not to cry as he held his sister. Her energy was so infectious, her personality so forceful, there was no way she could end up like their dad even if the traininging did nothing. No way. He would not allow it.

“Last night- uh” he said, and opening his eyes he saw Yonah, standing behind Sophia, give him a warning hand motion.

Sophia pulled herself away from her brother but kept her hands on his shoulder, “last NIGHT? Hold on- Why-”

“I got, a bit anxious, you know how it is… And since you well, um- eaten... Yonah helped calm me down.”

Sophia scowled for a moment, not because Yonatan had cuddled up with her giant while she was in said giant's gut, but because Yonah had not woken her! He’d let her sleep without telling her that her brother had ran away from home in panic. Sure he’d been more than capable of handling it, but this was her brother!

“Yes, he is good for that,” she affirmed. Then got distracted as Yonah got out a second set of human sized eating utensils and a set for himself, loading his with the eggs and vegetables.

She let go of Yonatan to snatch her plate and fork from Yonah, and before he’d set his plate down started scooping off a massive but relatively negligible onto hers. He retaliated by eating before she had finished taking her portion. In particular he would scoop away the pieces of vegetables she was carving chunks out of, eating them all. Eventually she managed to get a decent helping of eggs and veggies.

“I'm starving and this smells amazing!” she said, also eating before she’d sat down at the smaller table. Yonatan was a bit impressed she could eat so soon and so easily after being eaten herself. “Ohhh did you roast these with scallops!?”

Mhm, Yonah said though his mouthful of food. “And I used goat’s milk for the eggs.”

“Oh! Why such a treat today?” she asked, taking another bite and savoring it but also eating it quickly because there was plenty more on her plate.

“Well, we have a prince in dining with us!” he said.

Still a little hungry, Yonatan, without asking, but with a bit of a side glance from Yonah, took a second serving of eggs off the giant’s plate. He sat down next to Sophia and poured her some of the apple blueberry juice. And another cup for himself, it was so delicious. Plus it had stayed chilled in the magic pitcher.

Princess Sophia snorted, “Well I'm not complaining!”

The rest of breakfast was pleasant. Yonatan updated Sophia on the goings on back in Orr, and Sophia told him all about her adventures and magic lessons. Sophia was excited to hear all the stupid gossip about the lower nobility. Yonatan had a million questions about each spell and potion she mentioned, which Yonah answered as best he could, going into enough detail for the prince but keeping it brief to not bore Sophia.

“I think I should probably check in with the castle…” Yonatan said a bit sheepishly.

Sophia’s eyes got wide, “Does anyone know where you are?”

Yonatan’s face grew hot, “N-no. I snuck out.”

“You’re going to be in so much trouble!” There was no pity in her voice.

“We can use my mirror,” Yonah said, clearing the table and taking the humans up to the workshop.

There was no need for any rhyme, as Yonatan touched the gold filigree and asked it plainly to connect to His Majesty King Ben. The mirror made a bit of a surprised noise but then turned foggy. It still took a few minutes to connect. Ben’s personal mirror would not show anything until he answered the call, to avoid anyone snooping.

While they were waiting Yonatan decided he didn’t want to face his father and had slowly been inching away. So that when Ben’s torso appeared in the mirror he only saw Sophia and Yonah behind her. Ben looked a little ragged and twitchy, his eyes brighter than normal, beard unshaven, his complexion a bit green, making him look like a tree with a bit of moss starting to grow on it.

“Sophia, darling, is this urgent? We have an emergency, your brother-” Then he stopped, narrowing his eyes.

“Uhuh” Sophia noticed her brother was out of view and motioned to Yonah, who pushed Yonatan to Sophia’s side, she took his shoulders and grinned at her father. “Guess who showed up last night?”

The King’s face was one of instant relief, smiling like he was about to cry. “Yonatan!”

Then his face hardened, his eyes pulsed with power. And Yonatan tensed in anticipation; Sophia squoze his shoulders, and Yonah backed up. They could hear the trees rustling outside. His Mystic Majesty was about to explode.

“YOUNG MAN DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED WE’VE BEEN! I WOKE THE WHOLE CITY! YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!”

~At least it was through a mirror and not in person ~

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