#And essentially held it over his head when he tried to cultivate and was told he couldn’t cause he would quote ‘steal all of it for himself

[glitter50000]

Xie Lian in the first half of book 4 is like Icarus surviving the fall and attempting to put the melted wax back onto the broken wings and some people laugh at him for it.

[starsreminisce]

When examining the context of Lucien's statement "I am a mated male" now, it's essential to consider everything that preceded it. Lucien's desire to reach Elain predates his deterring Ianthe. Upon his return from the Spring Court, he already had a plan to reach Elain, recognizing that Feyre was the most direct route to her.

Lucien's assertion that he is a mated male stems from the reality that he is indeed mated, and his mate has endured something traumatic. She is now with someone who held his mind and threatened to harm his mother.

Someone who Feyre kept insisting manipulated her.

ACOMAF:

Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king. A mate—a mate already going wild to defend what was his.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

“How did you break free of his control,” Lucien said flatly from behind us. Tamlin gave him a warning growl. I’d forgotten he was there. My sister’s mate. The Mother, I decided, did have a sense of humor. “I wanted it—I don’t know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.” We stared each other down, but Tamlin brushed a thumb over my shoulder. “Are—are you hurt?” I tried not to bristle. I knew what he meant. That he thought Rhysand would do anything like that to anyone— “I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I don’t … I don’t remember those things.” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed, as if he could sense the lie.

“Forever,” I parroted, glancing behind—to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive. His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again. I gave Lucien a sweet, sleepy smile. So our game began.

ACOWAR:

I wondered what Lucien truly made of it. And the fact that the collateral in her friendship with Hybern had wound up being his mate. Elain. We had not spoken of Elain save for once, the day after I’d returned. Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it.

I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow. Then I met one eye of russet and one of whirring gold. Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?”

Ianthe lifted her head, scanning my unsure, if not a bit aloof, face. “So you could be with them forever. And if Lucien had discovered that Elain was his mate beforehand, it would have been … devastating to realize he’d only have a few decades.” The sound of Elain’s name on her lips sent a snarl rumbling up my throat. But I leashed it, falling into that mask of pained quiet, the newest in my arsenal. Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.” Tamlin shot him a warning look—both at the words and the tone. Perhaps Lucien would kill Ianthe before I had the chance, just for the horror she’d put his mate through that day.

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days. And given that Ianthe had been trying to corner him all day to ask about what had happened at the ceremony.

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 16 - Year 2: December

(ao3 links)

Sidious always enjoyed maintaining collections.

He always considered himself a keen eye for artwork- taking special care to decorate and surround his space with intricate and often overlooked pieces that a meager outsider would deem worthless. As usual, their ignorance served to his benefit, allowing him to broaden a priceless treasure trove just beneath their noses. In a sense, it was most enjoyable that way- to accrue artwork and artifacts fundamental to preserving and cultivating the future of the Sith and for them to be none the wiser.

Little did they understand that the best costumes were woven with truth.

So, they could have their foolish little jokes about the junk he chose to decorate his environment with. They would not be laughing so merrily when the abstract paintings of enemy bloodshed cease to be so foreign to them. The carefully hidden devices that could provide centuries of torment would be useful one day.

As well as contingency plans that they might never know, because Sidious was nothing if not pragmatic.

He ran a long finger along a small wooden prism that sat upon his mantle, lips twitching upwards when it glowed red at his touch. He rolled it around his hand, practically shaking at the pure heat that emanated through him. Like Sidious, its walls remained intact and its passion while brimming at the surface, secured by purpose.

He took a deep breath and returned it to its place beside a cube that he didn’t need to touch to know it would not respond to him with such fervor, let alone at all. To him alone, it had no meaning.

But he would not be alone forever and he never did anything without meaning.

Sidious walked to his desk, taking a seat behind it as he took in his collection of pictures, each from a different era with different allies. Tyranus, of course, stood beside him in one of them, though surrounded by other faculty to maintain plausible deniability. Still, he couldn’t help but grimace at his supposed partner. It was no secret to him that Tyranus was taking his own measures. He would be dealt with should his insolence become too much of a problem for Sidious.

His yellow eyes drifted yet again to a picture only he knew to be cropped, one where there was once a Dathmorian smiling ferociously. He had half a mind to return it to its natural form, but as it were, there was no room on his desk for failure.

Besides, as he pulled out a fresh frame, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of giddiness overtake him.

He would need the space for the newest piece of his collection.

***

“I was under the impression that we were forbidding any holiday soirees this year.” Qui-Gon frowned and looked to his fellow Head of Houses for support, knowing he would find no such assistance from Palpatine in this particular situation.

“It’s hardly even that.” Palpatine said kindly, “It’s an academic dinner! And a necessary one, if I must say so myself.”

“And I have a feeling you will.” Qui-Gon muttered, earning him a warning look from Yoda, who always tried to remain neutral on such matters. “Regardless of intent, do you not see the hypocrisy of staging any sort of gathered event on school grounds when everything else has been banned?”

Including Qui-Gon’s own party, which this was only partially about.

“I’d say there’s a stark difference between a quiet dinner for 12-14 people and what has essentially become a rave over the years.” Palpatine countered with the barest traces of a smile, “And no offense to your own event, Professor Jinn, but do you not recall what happened last year at your party?”

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth, but held his tongue as the other professors eyed him carefully. He didn’t need to garner a reputation for throwing a tantrum every time something didn’t go his way, especially when it was being framed that he merely wanted to have his own holiday party.

“I am not saying mine or any other such parties should occur this year on property,” He said, “But if we are battening down the hatches, I don’t see why your academic dinner is exempt from the rules.”

“It’s essentially a networking event, Professor Jinn,” Palpatine twiddled his long fingers, “It would seem incredibly unfair to deprive Hogwarts’ best from learning how to navigate their futures.”

“Not a single person in this room received any such favoritism and I would say we turned out just fine,” Qui-Gon said, because really, at the core this was what it was all about. Every year, Palpatine hosted a private dinner for who he felt were the most prestigious and skilled witches and wizards of their year. This did not necessarily mean their grades or academic place guaranteed them a spot. It all depended on who Palpatine saw potential in.

“If I could possibly invite the whole student body, you know that I would.” The older man said with sympathetic gray eyes.

“Understand, I do.” Yoda nodded sagely, “Danger or not, continue school must, but safety precautions, there must be.”

“We’ll ensure it’s monitored.” Windu said with a curt nod, but whether it was meant for Qui-Gon or Palpatine was up for debate, “10 people tops, that includes plus one’s, and it will need to be over by curfew.”

“Ah yes, because Maul won’t show up until 10 pm.” Qui-Gon snorted, which earned him a glare from Windu this time. Shaak Ti, to her credit, seemed to be withholding a quiet laugh of her own.

“And all of us will monitor the dinner.” She said calmly, “We can’t take any chances by leaving students vulnerable.”

Qui-Gon eased a bit at that, though he still bristled at the way Palpatine’s smile took full form and then shrugged at him as though he were helpless to the decision. He’d never had any contempt for the older man, but he never appreciated smugness in any form.

“I’ll have to shorten my list a tad, but that can be done.” He nodded slowly.

As they were dismissed, Qui-Gon wasn’t surprised when Yoda asked him to stay back. After the door shut behind Palpatine and he was left alone with the little green Headmaster, he couldn’t help but feel like a student ready to receive detention.

“Feel your frustration, I do.” He said, “Find anything, have you?”

“No necklace.” Qui-Gon only stuttered a little bit, surprised that he wasn’t being chastised, “Though it no doubt came from Dooku’s office. And I’d know it if I saw it.”

“Scoured over everything in there, the aurors have.” Yoda said grimly, “Missing, a necklace was.”

“That’s what Anakin said too.” Qui-Gon revealed and off the curious look Yoda was giving him, he sighed, “I promised him immunity from punishment should he be honest about anything he knew.”

“Hm,” Yoda tapped his fingers on his desk, “Blame him for curiosity, I do not. Many close calls last year, he had.”

“That seems to be a bit of an understatement, Headmaster.” Qui-Gon said and stroked his beard.

“Twice as vulnerable, the boy is.” Yoda said, “After him, Maul is.”

He did know this. The entire school did after the display Maul’s “delivery” made. Aurors through the Ministry were able to detect that not only did the blade belong to Maul, but that the markings on the dagger were strangely reminiscent of an ancient diatribe. Qui-Gon knew they were dancing around calling it like it was: a Sith artifact.

“For what reason?” Qui-Gon scowled, “Maul cares not for prophecy or rules. Anakin is a twelve year old boy and hardly a challenge for him.”

“Tasked with finding that out, I am leaving you.” Yoda pushed his chair out from beneath his desk and stood. When he did, only the very top of his head was visible from where Qui-Gon stood. Using his cane, he hobbled around to stand in front of Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, “And why not Windu?”

He didn’t mean to sound like he didn’t accept the task. Quite the opposite, of course. He would have likely found himself involved anyway as it was in his nature. That being said, he certainly didn’t have the professional investigative experience that Mace had.

“Trust you, the boy does.” Yoda said matter-of-factly, “Because Shmi trusted you, the reason he goes here is.”

Qui-Gon was sure that was meant to be empowering motivation, but instead, his mind was taken back to the dark dreams Shmi told him of last winter holiday and how scarily they matched the ones Anakin had mentioned, not to mention the recurrence of snakes. He thought about how desperately Shmi did not want her son to be involved with the wizarding world and why now that seemed to not be so ridiculous on paper.

Still, he knew Anakin’s and the rest of the community’s best hope was to continue his training.

“That is true,” Qui-Gon said with a heavy sigh, “But Headmaster, we need to be able to ensure the boy’s safety for that trust to persist.”

“Agree, I do.” Yoda said, “Maul cannot get in, as long as here, I am.”

It was true. While small in stature and old in age, Headmaster Yoda was the most formidable foe to a loose cannon like Maul, who surely did not have enough hubris to believe he would be capable of taking down the ancient Headmaster. He was once a student at Hogwarts, after all, and had to know of the Headmaster’s abilities.

However, there was a far off look in Yoda’s eyes that did not bestow much confidence in Qui-Gon. There was something he wasn’t saying. Or perhaps, it was meant to be assumed.

“And you’re not going anywhere, are you?” He asked slowly.

His long ears tilted downwards and he sighed heavily, “On my own accord, I will not.”

Then, it dawned on Qui-Gon, “The Ministry?”

“A strong case of my failures, many lawyers are making.” He said, “Feel that prepared, I am not, to defend the school.”

“That’s preposterous, Headmaster!” Qui-Gon growled, “If anything, we’re sitting ducks without you!”

Yoda’s disposition steeled, “No! Strength, there are in numbers. Make this school, I do not. Protect it, you and the others will if you must.”

While there was nothing presently happening and no final words were said, Qui-Gon felt like his heart was racing beneath his chest. Did no one see what was transpiring all around them?

“There must be one of Dooku’s plants in the Ministry.” He said, “The Sith are rising and gathering numbers to try and weaken us.”

Yoda fiddled with the hilt of the sword that always stuck out of the large vase near his desk, twiddling it between his little fingers. It was designed as though meant to be wielded by Yoda, himself, though Qui-Gon never really came to such a realization until now.

“Many forms, evil takes,” He confirmed, “Are Sith, not all of them are. In the deliberately blind, bigoted, and silent, it lies. Fester, it will. Be vigilant, we must.”

***

“And remember class, your project on the fundamental purposes of gillyweed is due next Monday.” Palpatine smiled at the class, “I look forward to seeing what sort of creative functionalities you all come up with.”

Anakin hadn’t noticed that class dismissed and it seemed Rex wasn’t bothered much to let him know, leaving him staring into empty space as students filtered out of the room. He only blinked back into reality when his professor walked up and gently knocked on the desk in front of him, as though it were a door he was requesting admission through.

He flicked his head up, mind scrambling for an excuse to land on for being so lost in space, but found he had trouble lying to the older man.

“Oh, sorry, Professor!” He slid from his chair and stood up, “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“How are you doing, Anakin?” Palpatine placed a hand on his shoulder and appeared to be studying him. “Really doing; not just what you might tell your other professors.”

“Well, I’m sure you heard of the little note Maul sent me.” He said with a shrug, “They confirmed that the blood on it was that Adi Gallia that he murdered at the prison.”

It was impressive that he’d managed to say that without gagging as he had the many times his thoughts reverted back to the moment. He had to blink a few times to shake away the images his brain had conjured up in his sleep. He’d heard the reports on how Maul picked off each of the guards on duty that night and it hadn’t been pleasant.

“He’s a sick individual, Anakin. And it’s just awful how he treated those poor guards.” Palpatine said, “But rest assured, no harm can befall you so long as Headmaster Yoda is on the premises.”

Anakin perked up, “Really?”

“But of course!” He said and twisted his own lips into a smile, “I’m not sure where this school would be without him, but I can assure you, he is a force that Maul would not dare to cross.”

Anakin relaxed at that, “I suppose I should be learning from him then. You know, if I’m to be a hero one day.”

“In my opinion, Anakin,” Palpatine poked his chest, “You are already a hero. And it is for that reason amongst countless others that I am formally inviting you to my annual academic banquet.”

“That’s awesome!” Anakin scratched the back of his neck, “Only, uh… What is it?”

He chuckled, “Only an exclusive dinner party hosted by yours truly. It’s reserved for only the witches and wizards, usually older, that I deem exemplary amongst their peers. It’s a way to recognize their hard work.”

“And you think I’m worthy of that?” Anakin asked.

Palpatine chuckled, “I would be a fool not to invite such a brilliant and promising young lad such as yourself. You may be significantly younger than the rest of the attendees, but I assure you that your skills match their own.”

Pride swelled through Anakin so suddenly that he found it quite difficult not to appear shocked. Still, he figured no one else but Palpatine was around, so it was likely acceptable this time. Besides, his mother always taught him not to expect gifts or invitations from anyone, even if it seemed deserved.

“Wow, this is an honor, sir.” He said, “Thank you.”

“No need for thanking me.” He insisted, “It is my pleasure to host! Now, it is usually a more formal event, so be sure you and your guest are dressed appropriately. You ought to look the part of the chosen one.”

“My guest?” He asked.

“Ah yes, invite whoever you like, but remember, they are to represent you!” He wagged a finger at him, “Not everyone is cut from the same cloth, shame as that might be. So choose carefully!”

Despite having never heard of such an event, he knew this would be a meaningful night and wanted so terribly for Palpatine to be right. Clearly, the seasoned professor saw something in Anakin if he already belonged amongst the most elite brilliant wizards at a banquet in their honor. He did not want to mess this up.

***

“Looking good up there,” Miraj Scintel, a Slytherin fourth year who was almost alarmingly feline in nature and physicality, purred from a position on the bleachers. Anakin hadn’t even noticed her thanks to the howling wind and the freezing rain that decided to bestow itself upon them for practice.

“Oh, hey!” He hoped he was smiling, but his face was feeling pretty numb from the cold. He forgot his scarf again and was going to be annoyed if he caught a cold. His mum certainly wouldn’t let him hear the end of that, or worse: Obi-Wan wouldn’t let him hear the end of that.

“I always knew you were gifted, Skywalker,” She smiled, bearing sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into her prey. Anakin knew that wasn’t him, due to his own powers that couldn’t be stopped, so he didn’t fear her. He just hovered nearby on his broom. He preferred being off the ground anyway.

“Thanks! Cody says we stand a good chance of a comeback.”

“As a Slytherin, I’m pretty sure commenting on that would be treasonous.” She said smoothly.

He wondered if the smooth beige fur that lined her skin protected her from the cold in the winter or worse, if it made summers brutal. He knew it was rude to ask, but he’d have to ask Obi-Wan later. He certainly wasn’t going to waste time looking it up in a big book.

“You guys were lucky we weren’t in the right headspace.” Anakin challenged.

“I’m sure,” She laughed, “I don’t play so… I don’t have much stakes in the game aside from knowing true power and talent when I see it.”

“Really?”

“Indeed,” She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes fixated on his, “And my father has an in with the Bulgarian professional team.”

Anakin didn’t even know where Bulgar was located, but it sounded impressive. Not wanting to sound dumb, he nodded and made sure to give her the kind of awe that she obviously sought out with such a reveal.

“Maybe I could tell him about you.” She shrugged, “If you keep doing such amazing things.”

“I don’t know if you’ll need to,” He smirked, “I am the chosen one.”

“That you are,” She raised an eyebrow at him, “In more ways than one. I suppose the true question, is who are you going to choose?”

“For what?” Anakin frowned.

“To take to the moon with you, Anakin.” She said as though it were obvious, “That broom looks like it's built for two at maximum capacity.”

He looked behind him and thought about that. He knew it was a metaphor, but he really only ever pictured Padmé riding on the back of his broom. He’d never admit that out loud, because it sounded incredibly corny and also impossible for his present image.

“Oh, I’m not planning on falling in love or anything like that, sorry.” He said honestly. He didn’t want Miraj to get the wrong idea.

“Who said anything about love?” She scoffed. “Love is for the weak. No, what you need is a co-conspirator.”

***

Cody massaged his temples as he tried to will himself the strength to focus on the textbook in front of him. For what had to be the millionth time, he pondered why there weren’t any memory spells that could assist in studying. Even magic had its limitations, sure, but there were spells to erase one’s memory. Why not the opposite?

With a dejected sigh, he slammed his head down to the pages.

“I know I say do whatever works, but I’m not sure that’s an effective study method.” Satine commented as she sat down next to him. He didn’t have to look up to know that Kenobi slid in the seat across from her and likely had a smirk that matched her own.

“You could shove this book straight between my ears and I still wouldn’t get it.” Cody groaned.

One of them patted him on the shoulder- presumably Kenobi by the firmness of it, while the other poked him.

“Once again, I think you’re just being too hard on yourself,” Kenobi said, “Over-thinking has never served you well.”

“Yeah you’ve always thrived on instinct.” Satine said with a nudge, “It’s like remembering Quidditch plays.”

“This is nothing like Quidditch.” Cody tilted his head up enough to lean on his hands, “If it were, I’d be attending Palpatine’s precious pet banquet with the lot of you.”

“Not to worry, Cody, I’m also not attending.” Satine said as she flipped open her own book rather indignantly.

“And just what are you protesting this time?” Kenobi asked.

Had Cody not been too busy commiserating, he would have likely asked the same question, but he was glad he didn’t, because it was immediately apparent that it was the wrong question.

“First of all, I’m not sure I appreciate the underlying exasperation in your tone.” She said, “Just because I choose to stand against social injustice does not make me some annoying zealot. Secondly, I am not protesting anything, because I wasn’t invited.”

Cody’s head shot up completely this time in a mixture of shock and affront. Kenobi seemed just as surprised too, because he didn’t even offer a counter-argument to Satine’s earlier point. They shared a look of disbelief before turning to her for an explanation that never came.

After a moment of likely feeling their gazes burning through her skull, she finally looked up, perturbed that she was interrupted from whatever nonsense she’d gotten herself into reading.

“What?”

“That’s impossible!” Cody complained, “Surely, there’s some sort of mistake.”

“Seriously, you’re top of our class.” Kenobi said, before finishing, “Besides me.”

She rolled her eyes, “Believe it or not, Ben, Palpatine doesn’t exactly choose based on academic placement, alone. He’s chosen quite a few bimbos in the past, actually. Sure, academia helps, but you need status in order to catch his gaze. And conveniently enough, he never invites muggle borns.”

“Are you sure about that?” Cody asked, “He’s never struck me as the sort to think so… What’s the term?”

“Single-mindedly? Aristocratically? Bigoted? Subservient to an archaic belief of blood superiority? I could go on if you need more.” Satine listed them off with such ease that Cody realized she must have thought about them more often than either he or Kenobi could fathom. Such a realization both saddened and surprised him, and even more so when he realized he shouldn’t be all that surprised in the first place.

“That’s not right.” Kenobi pinched his chin thoughtfully, “Perhaps, he was limited in spaces.”

“Well, he had no problem inviting your mentee.” She said pointedly, “Who is twelve years old, need I remind you.”

“Anakin made the cut?” His eyes widened. “Usually, only sixth and seventh years are invited.”

“Did you even pay attention to the list? Or did you stop when you saw your name at the top?” She asked. “Of course he did. He’s the chosen one! While a half-blood raised in the muggle world, his prophetic background immediately moves him to the A-list.”

“Palpatine’s pals.” Cody whistled, “An elite breed for a young kid.”

Kenobi seemed to consider that for a long moment and by the end of his line of thoughts, it was unclear what his opinion on that matter ended up being. Like many times, he transitioned topics and kept his face neutral. If he wasn’t already set on being an auror, Cody would have suggested he become an actor.

“Well, it makes no difference in the end, I suppose.” He said, “I assumed you would be going with me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Satine asked.

Cody couldn’t believe it. He looked back and forth between the two of them in amusement. Was this how it was going to happen? It was a lot less theatrical than he’d expected, seeing as the two of them seemed to always be quarreling when they weren’t “secretly” fawning over the other. He expected it to go a lot of ways, but never with Kenobi so casually putting it out on the table.

“We get plus one’s.” He shrugged, “Perhaps, that’s why Palpatine excluded you from the list. He figured I would automatically bring you because of our relationship.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “Our relationship?”

“We’re friends.” He said slowly, as though he might have been reminding himself of that fact too.

Not the correct thing to say.

Satine clenched her jaw, “Yes, well, how was I to even know this little arrangement would be happening if you were never intending on mentioning it?”

“I’m mentioning it now.” Kenobi said. “It’s not like it’s a date or anything.”

Cody wondered how someone so smart could say the wrong thing so often.

“Yes, that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” Satine said.

Kenobi seemed utterly dumbfounded, “Did you want it to be a-”

“-Why would I want that?” She cut him off immediately and Cody found himself bobbing his head back and forth between them. Sometimes, it felt like he was watching an exciting ping pong match.

“I don’t know.” Kenobi said, though he had the decency to look a bit offended by her immediate dismissal, “It’s hardly anything more than a networking event. You would likely hate the whole experience, anyway.”

“You are really selling this evening to me.” She frowned.

“You don’t have to come if you do not wish,” Kenobi said, though Cody could see his best friend stiffen, “It was just an offer.”

“And what an offer it is!” She flared, placing both hands on the table as though prepared to launch herself to her feet for a dramatic exit, “An offhand comment suggesting I essentially be your tag-a-along to an event that I was deliberately overlooked for. Sign me up! I should be so lucky to be your casual pick. You truly know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Satine-” He didn’t get very far, of course. When she was on a roll, she was on a roll.

“What were you going to do the night of the party if I had already found a date?” She steamrolled, now half-standing as she leaned forward towards him, “Or was that never an actual possibility in that head of yours? Answer wisely.”

Kenobi stammered, though Cody noticed he was obviously bothered by the implication, “Did you have someone you’d rather go with than your best friend?”

“Perhaps, I did!” She thundered.

Kenobi reverberated for a moment as though he suffered terrible whiplash before finally saying, “Well, it’s not a date anyway so-”

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, which works out quite nicely for me,” She said as she fully stood, “Seeing as it’s not a date and I’m a friend, which apparently means I’m unworthy of any notice, formal invitation, or courtesy. So, as a friend, I’ll feel no guilt in standing you up.”

“Well- fine!” Kenobi said back, “I’ll find someone else to go! Someone less mad!”

“Good luck with that!” She grinned sardonically as she turned to take her leave, “Because anyone who agrees to go with your passive arrogance would have to be bloody insane.”

Kenobi opened his mouth and shut it again, annoyed that she’d managed to get the last word in before she was fully gone- a tactic both have used in the past. Everyone in the library, including Jocasta Nu, was shooting unsure looks towards their table. He didn’t seem to notice from where he stewed, keeping his eyes trained on where she left.

“So, who are you going to ask?” Cody asked.

Kenobi groaned and flopped his head down towards his textbook with a thud.

“You wouldn’t happen to be interested in a free dinner, would you?” His voice was muffled from the book, but Cody always understood the language of food.

Despite how it might not resonate well with Satine, Cody couldn’t not agree to those terms. Unlike her, he would rather it not be a date.

***

“Rex, guess what?” Anakin came barreling into the Gryffindor common room with a burst of excitement that Rex had grown used to over the year and half of knowing his friend. Still, they hadn’t been hanging out nearly as much as they used to, so he found himself quite surprised to be the recipient of such grand news.

“What?” He asked, closing his History of Magic textbook for the night. He knew if Anakin got enthusiastic enough, that he would not be returning to his homework for tonight.

“I got invited to Palpatine’s Academic Bash!” He pressed his hands into the armrest of the couch, using it for stability as he bounced up and down.

“His… What?” Rex frowned. He distinctly recalled that unofficial school holiday events were banned per Headmaster Yoda’s call for safety. It was not lost on Rex that such safety measures were likely designed with Anakin in mind, specifically.

“It’s this end of the term banquet that he has with his most esteemed students where we all get dressed up and eat a bunch of fancy foods. It’s basically a big networking event where Palpatine helps set the older students up with connections to make them successful beyond Hogwarts.”

“And why are you invited, then?” Rex asked, much to Anakin’s incredulousness.

“Hello?” He gestured to himself, “Chosen One? Have you forgotten?”

“How could I? You scarcely let me do so.” He deadpanned, “I still don’t get why you would even want to go to that sort of thing. Sounds much more up Obi-Wan’s alley.”

“Well, he’s invited too, of course.” Anakin waved a hand, “It’s usually exclusive to sixth years and seventh years.”

All of the students that were amongst Palpatine’s “pals” as they were often referred to by outsiders, were all exceptionally gifted and intelligent witches and wizards. He didn’t see how Rex could be so confused by Anakin’s being lumped in with them. Sure, he was younger, but in terms of power and potential, he was right there.

“Still sounds stuffy.” Rex shrugged.

“Well,” Anakin couldn’t help but deflate a bit, annoyed that Rex wasn’t immediately leaping to his level of excitement, “Since it’s an academic event, the school is allowing it, so it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

“I suppose.” Rex said.

“I thought about asking Padmé to go with me, but I don’t want her to get the wrong impression,” Anakin said, “Can’t have her falling in love with me. That would make things far too complicated.”

“I’m sure.” Rex snorted, “Well, if you need someone to endure the bureaucratic dribble with I guess-”

“-Miraj Scintel would probably want to go.” Anakin tapped his chin.

“What?”

“Miraj Scintel.” Anakin said simply, “You know, my friend from Slytherin house. 4th year Miraj? Super pretty, but not my type? You know, the popular girl who I’ve been sitting with at Dueling Club-”

“-I know who she is.” Rex spat, “Why are you taking her?”

Anakin sat on the armrest, “I dunno, we’re friends. I think she’d like it.”

“And what about me?” He asked.

Anakin frowned, “You just said you didn’t want to go.”

“You didn’t invite me! I thought you were just bragging.”

“When do I do that?”

“All of the time!” Rex said, “Were you even going to ask me anyway?”

Anakin paused and Rex launched up from where he’d been sitting on the couch.

“You weren’t, were you?” He accused.

“I never said that!” Anakin said, “I would just rather bring someone who wants to go is all. Plus, Miraj fits in a bit better with that crowd of people.”

“And I don’t?”

“Not really.” Anakin shrugged, “You always choose to hang back or walk away whenever I’m with my new friends.”

“Is that how you see it?” He laughed sardonically, “Boy are you full of it, you know that?”

“What are you on about?” Anakin crossed his arms.

“What am I on about? I haven’t been walking away from you! You haven’t invited me once to hang with you and your new friends. You keep flaunting this Chosen One title around like it’s such a great thing when in reality, it sounds like it’s only going to get really scary from here on out. I mean, my family has gone to Hogwarts for years and the professors have never seen it fit to have a club where students basically learn to fight.”

Anakin frowned, “I’m not flaunting anything around. I am the Chosen One. That’s what I am. And Chosen Ones are heroes, who don’t cower down from the future or when things get bad. Neither do Gryffindors in general, actually.”

“I’m not cowering down. I’m just trying to be realistic!” Rex barked back.

“I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like having all eyes depending on you to be brave, but that is the reality.” Anakin shrugged, “And a real friend would support me on that.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rex all but shouted, throwing his books aside, “Ever since this whole thing started, you’ve been ditching me like I’m Flobberworm fodder to you.”

“No, you have taken every opportunity to either avoid me or lash out any time anyone else treats me nice!”

“That’s because they’re only being nice to you because you’re the Chosen One!”

“That’s not true!” Anakin said and pointed a firm finger at his seething friend, “You’re just jealous that everyone likes me now.”

“But I liked you before any of that!” Rex shouted, “It didn’t matter to me if you were famous or if you were powerful. When no one else in this blasted school believed you, not even Obi-Wan, I did. I stood by your side and stuck up for you. You were the last person I’d ever think would fall for this stupid fame rap, but I guess I was wrong.”

Anakin’s mouth felt dry, but it didn’t stop his stupid words from taking form anyway- coming from a place of hurt so bleak that he didn’t realize it still existed there from his loneliness of last year,

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me being your charity case anymore. I’d rather have friends that are happier for me instead of sulking all the time anyway.” He said.

“Sure, have fun with Miraj at Palpatine’s stupid party! I’m sure she’ll just love puckering up to your arse every time you so much as breathe. See if she still likes you next time you fall flat on your face and don’t ask me to come pick you back up.”

“And good luck on the bench this year!” It felt mean even as he said it, but Anakin decided he wasn’t wanted here anymore as he stormed back down the steps towards the exit, trying not to look anyone else in the face as tears began to spring from his eyes. He ran into Cody on his way down, who tried to grab him by the wrist, but Anakin slipped from his potential grasp and descended the stairs anyway.

On his way out, he heard Cody ask, “What the bloody hell just happened?”

It seemed Anakin was out a friend. It was no matter, he told himself. He had plenty of other friends now.

He would just have to keep telling himself that.

***

Obi-Wan was surprised to find Anakin sitting by himself in the courtyard. It was far from a safe position for him to be in, given the price that was likely out on his head by Maul, but the boy was so sullen that he couldn’t find it in him to admonish him. He wasn’t crying, but didn’t look far from it.

“I don’t care if you give me detention, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said and pressed his forehead into his knees as he brought them closer to him, likely in an effort to keep himself warm. “Just leave me alone.”

Obi-Wan sighed through his nose and carefully pulled his robe off of him before draping it around Anakin, followed by giving him his scarf. There wasn’t going to be much of a Chosen One left if he froze to death in the December chill. He dusted the stone bench free of drifting snow and ice before taking a seat beside him.

“What happened?” He finally asked, breaking the silence that bounded them. The whirl of the wind whistled through and around the many towers and seemed to battle with itself in the heart of the courtyard.

Anakin had been having a great year from the looks of it, contrary to his previous year. He made new friends, grew a lot of confidence (perhaps, a bit too much), and was behaving better in class. Another psychopathic dark wizard was after him, yes, but he seemed to take it in stride in comparison to how he reacted to his fear of Windu before. This behavior seemed very out of the blue to Obi-Wan.

He sighed heavily, causing a wreath of frosty air to circulate around him, “Rex doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Now, that didn’t sound right at all. Rex had stuck with Anakin through the thickest of thick and didn’t seem keen on going anywhere. He’d been a loyal and true friend, one that Anakin was lucky to have. It simply did not add up.

Then, Obi-Wan counted back to the previous months, thinking about how Anakin hadn’t been seen with Rex nearly as much, how his mentee had grown popular with other and older students, or how Anakin seemed quite boastful as of late.

“Did he say why?”

“He’s upset I’m taking Miraj Scintel to Palpatine’s banquet.” He huffed, “Which is ridiculous, because he hates potions and was dogging the event in general until I told him I was inviting someone else.”

“Ah, I see.” Obi-Wan slumped against the wall a bit, but it was colder than anything he’d ever touched and he straightened his posture again, “I must admit, I’m not sure I’m the best candidate to be giving advice on this specific matter. I’m somewhat in a similar pickle.”

“You’re also bringing Miraj Scintel to Palpatine’s banquet?” Anakin wrinkled his nose, “She never struck me as your type.”

“She’s not!” Obi-Wan insisted, “I’m not taking her, but one of my friends is upset that I didn’t elect to ask them more formally.”

“Why didn’t you?” Anakin asked, loosening his grip on his legs and letting his feet touch the stone again.

Obi-Wan breathed out his own cloud of air, admiring for a moment how picturesque it looked in the reflective light from the torches that hung above them. He was grateful for them, of course, because they provided at least a little warmth to fight off the freezing December. He couldn’t explain it, but he always liked the smell of the cold- the freshness of it. He just never quite enjoyed feeling it.

He rubbed his hands along his arms in an effort to warm up, “I thought… It went without saying that we were to go together.”

Anakin frowned, “That’s awful dumb of you. How is someone supposed to know they’re invited if you never say anything?”

Obi-Wan snorted, always amused at the sheer lack of thought that went into Anakin’s words sometimes, “Yes, I know that now, thank you. It is for that reason that I am now bringing Cody to the banquet.”

“Cody?” Anakin squawked, “He’s not going to fit in at all!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Obi-Wan said, “It’s about who you want to bring, not about who you feel would make the best trophy to show off.”

Obi-Wan was quite glad that Satine wasn’t there to call him out on the sheer hypocrisy of that statement. Being a Kenobi and hosting many parties, meant that most of his life had been surrounded by various upscale wizards flashing their trophy husbands or wives or children.

“But why would I want to bring someone who’s been nothing but negative this entire term? It’s like he’s not even happy for me for being popular.”

“Popularity isn’t everything, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, rubbing his hands together now, “It’s better to have fewer great friends than more fairweather friends.”

“What’s a fairweather friend?” Anakin asked.

“The kind who only wants to be around you when you’re on top.” He explained, “So maybe, it’s not that you’ve invited Miraj, but that you neglected to think of Rex. It could quite possibly just be a buildup of feelings.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know the difference between a fairweather friend and a real friend?” He asked, bright blue eyes looking troubled and concerned at the difference.

“You’ll know when things get tough again.” Obi-Wan said and draped an arm around Anakin’s shoulders, partially because he was starting to lose feeling in his limbs from being outside for as long as they were.

“You’re a real friend.” Anakin said quietly.

“I’d like to think so.” Obi-Wan really did, too. He knew Satine was rightfully quite upset with him at the moment, but he liked to think that he was there for his friends when they needed him. He wasn’t perfect, but he did intend to show Anakin the proper values for him to proceed. “And it is my humble opinion that you should try to make up with Rex.”

“But how? He basically told me to bugger off and not to come back.” Anakin said, “And I don’t really want to, right now.”

“Sometimes, you have to be the better person and put yourself out there.” Obi-Wan advised.

“Just like you did with Satine?” Anakin arched an eyebrow at him.

“I- I never said I was quarreling with Satine.”

“When aren’t you is the better question.” He said, “It’s just a date. What’s the big deal?”

“First of all, it’s not a date. It’s a social gathering amongst intellectual acquaintances that she and I would merely be attending together in formal attire. Second of all, it’s past curfew and you’re lucky I haven’t taken to removing points from Gryffindor by now.”

“Sure, sure.” Anakin rolled his eyes, “Still not sure what I’m going to do about Rex. I already asked Miraj.”

“Just be honest with him. Give him some time to cool off.” Obi-Wan said and stood up, “Speaking of cooling off, I think we’ve done enough of that, wouldn’t you say?”

***

Anakin knew Obi-Wan had to be right in his advice to make up with Rex, but the trouble was finding the timing for such a thing. However, he reasoned this would be much easier to do once this silly banquet that started the quarrel in the first place was over. It didn’t make the way Rex refused to meet his eyes any easier.

In fact, Anakin began to understand some of what Rex had been talking about, as though he’d just noticed his friend’s absence. Even with Jax, Tru, and Ferus chatting with him eagerly about the banquet at breakfast, he couldn’t help but revert his eyes down the table to where Rex ate quietly with his brothers. All but Cody were present, who was actually sitting with Obi-Wan and Satine. Anakin wondered if his mentor was taking his own advice on that front.

He was relieved when Qui-Gon got up from his seat at the front of the Great Hall and walked over to him, making everyone else look rather small in comparison.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Anakin, but may I have a word?” He asked kindly, nodding cordially to the other boys.

“Oh, sure!” Anakin slid out from his seat, “I’ll see you later, guys!”

As he followed the large Head of House out of the Great Hall, he met Obi-Wan’s nondescript stare from across the room, but didn’t think much of it. Whatever obvious disagreement was happening between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan was their business. Anakin had enough trouble on his hands as it were.

They didn’t speak until they drifted down to his office, which was decorated aplomb with Christmas joy, even though his party wouldn’t be happening this year. He especially liked the charmed elf decoration that skated in endless crazy eights across the surface of his mantle. It was particularly interesting that Qui-Gon never seemed to stick exclusively to wizard-made decor. Instead, there were plenty of lights and trappings of garland that could be found in any muggle hardware store. It infused Anakin with the sort of merriment that felt akin to magic before he had a full grasp on his abilities.

“Is this about the necklace?” He asked.

“Yes and no.” Qui-Gon said as he leaned against his desk, “I heard you were invited to Sheev’s end of the year dinner party.”

Anakin scratched his head, briefly performing mental gymnastics to remember that Palpatine’s first name was certainly not “Professor” and that Qui-Gon likely didn’t call him by that when they were outside of professional settings. Still, he was also unsure what his invitation had to do with anything.

“Uh, and what of it?” He asked.

“Congratulations,” Though it sounded more of a formality than sincerity, “It’s unheard of that someone so young be invited.”

“Yeah, Professor Palpatine says he’s never met a wizard like me.” Anakin shrugged, trying not to boast lest he prove Rex correct.

“No one is the same as each other.” He said, “Everyone offers their own different strengths and weaknesses that deserve to be celebrated.”

“I think he just likes to do something nice for the gifted kids.” Anakin said.

“I’m sure Professor Palpatine means no malice in his little get-together, but segmenting chosen students with no official system for doing so can be… Misleading. All students at Hogwarts are gifted and regardless of grades, skills, or social standing, no one is overall better than the other.”

Anakin really didn’t see how that could be true, even if he weren’t the chosen one.

“So, you don’t want me to go?” Anakin asked.

“I did not say that.” He poured himself a cup of tea and sighed, “Quite the opposite, actually, I think it’s important you do attend the dinner.”

“No offense, but you’re not making much sense, Qui-Gon.”

He chuckled, “I’m not, am I?”

“No, sir. It doesn’t sound like you agree with Palpatine having a party at all. So, why encourage me to go?” Anakin decided to make himself comfortable and take a seat. Qui-Gon had a tendency to be long-winded, so he might as well prepare for a lecture.

“I have nothing negative to say about his having a party,” Qui-Gon said, “Do I wish he were a bit clearer in his system beyond picking favorites, perhaps? There are bigger issues at play, though, and it’s not my position or place anyway.”

“So, what is it?”

“As you know, Palpatine has a tendency to adopt people, so to speak, and not in a bad way, but with the hopes of passing down his own wisdom from past experiences.” He said, “And he’s included many interesting cases in this little club of his over the years. One of whom, many years ago, was a sixth year Slytherin boy who many considered to be… Troubled. Immensely talented? Yes, but it was how he used that power that was always concerning the professors.”

“How did he use it?” Anakin asked.

“You see, outside of the classroom he didn’t have many friends. He was aggressive and would occasionally perform some rather sinister tricks on those that crossed him. He was gifted at charms and transfiguration above all else and was even caught performing some rather… Disturbing spells on animals and leaving them in students’ beds.”

“Who was he?” Anakin asked.

He lifted a navy and silver leather bound book from his desk and flipped through some of the pages before finding what he’d been looking for. Wordlessly, Qui-Gon turned the book and pointed to a moving school portrait of Maul.

The rock that dropped in his stomach made Anakin question the company of this exclusive club that he was being invited into.

Anakin wrinkled his nose, “That’s terrible! Why would Palpatine want to take him under his wing?”

“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon frowned, “I suspect he wanted to help him, but…”

“But what?”

He placed his teacup down delicately before folding his hands in front of him, “It would benefit us to learn whatever we can about Maul and his potential motives for seeking you out. As of right now, Palpatine is the only person I know who was close with him.”

“So, you want me to go to the banquet to get information from Palpatine?” Anakin clarified and for some reason, the task didn’t sit right with him. In fact, it felt an awful lot like spying.

“I warn you to act with discretion, of course,” Qui-Gon raised a hand, “Sheev has never mentioned Maul once in the years I’ve known him. The only reason I’m aware of his previous kinship with Maul was because I… Stumbled upon this information as a first year. I’d not thought much of it then, but now… It would certainly be wise to see what he knows.”

“Will it upset him?” Anakin couldn’t help but ask. After all, he was already out one friend right now. He really didn’t need to go cutting off all his ties.

“I think it would upset him more if anything bad were to happen to you as a result of his own silence.” Qui-Gon clarified, “The truth, while not always easy, must come out.”

***

Padmé was having a difficult time figuring out what she wanted to get her friends for Christmas. It was to no surprise that Hondo tried to weasel his way into her decision making process, armed with t-shirts, trinkets, and buttons with Anakin Skywalker’s face plastered all over it. She would have laughed if the exploitation of the younger student wasn’t a little sad. It was even worse that Anakin didn’t seem to have a grasp yet on why this wasn’t ideal.

She was in the process of knitting a scarf for Yané with a new spell she learned in charms, when she noticed him walk by looking quite out of place in an oversized suit. For once, he was alone and without his newfound posse of older students.

“Anakin?” He halted right in his tracks at her call, appearing uncharacteristically lost in thought.

“Oh, hey Padmé!” He chirped, but lacked some of the boyish excitement that usually emanated off of him. She was beginning to wonder if the stress of Maul’s looming presence was getting to him. She knew she would be afraid if there was not one, but two, bad guys on the hunt for her.

“What’s with the suit?” She gestured to his outfit.

“Oh, you know, gotta fit in with the big boys.” He did that thing where he was trying desperately to seem like he belonged. She wondered briefly where that stemmed from.

“Ah, I heard you were going to Palpatine’s dinner party.” She said.

“Yeah, I’m actually on my way to pick up my date.” He leaned against the doorframe, clearly trying to impress her with such information. For what reason, she didn’t understand, but didn’t doubt it had to do with this macho facade he had clearly been building for the other students.

“Date?” She played along.

“Miraj Scintel. Don’t take it personally.” He waved her off, “She really wanted to go.”

Padmé wasn’t shocked by that. She didn’t know Miraj too well, given she was a grade older and a Slytherin, which meant they essentially walked different circles here at Hogwarts. However, she knew enough to know that her crowd of people wasn’t exactly notorious for being warm and fuzzy. Her parents, like Padmé’s, were dignitaries, though not known as a very merciful and kind sort.

In fact, there were some dark rumors about how they ran their government.

“Why would I take it personally?” She snorted.

“Because you know…” He trailed off.

“No…” She said slowly.

“Oh,” Anakin ran a hand through his floppy blond hair and winced, “Well, sometimes girls get jealous when you ask someone else to go to dinners or parties or something. Pretty sure that’s the gist of what’s happening to Obi-Wan and Satine.”

Padmé straightened, “We’re not like them of course.”

Anakin floundered a bit at that, “No no, of course not! They’re… Weird and we’re…”

“Friends.” She finished with a smile.

“We are?” He asked, which made her laugh.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” She asked.

“I dunno, really,” He smiled shyly, “Age differences and all that.”

“Aren’t you taking an older woman as your date tonight?” She asked wryly.

“Obi-Wan says this isn’t a date.” He said, “I think he’s just saying that because he didn’t want Cody getting any ideas.”

“Why’s he taking Cody?” Padmé gaped.

“He mentioned something about being a fool, but he really does not like to talk about his feelings.” Anakin sighed, “Guess he’s got some growing up to do on that front.”

That got Padmé legitimately laughing. Maybe it was because the kid who lost Gryffindor 5 points for getting caught calling Windu a “doo-doo head” behind his back was doling out advice on maturity.

He glanced at the automatically moving knitting needles that worked next to her, “What are you making?”

“A scarf, probably,” She turned to resume with her hands, “I know it’s not as exciting as an elegant dinner party with the fellow elites, but if I want to get it ready by Christmas I’ve got to get a move on.”

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of fancy dinners.” Anakin stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.” She smirked, “So, if you get sick of the party life or the tiny little finger sandwiches, please feel free to lend a helping hand. I could use someone to untangle the yarn.”

“Surely, there are spells for that too.” He said.

“Maybe, but some things are better when you put a little earnest hard work into it.”

“You kinda sound like my mom.” Anakin smiled softly and after a moment of gazing somewhere in the distance he sighed, “Yeah, well, I better be off.”

“Have fun on your hot date.” She teased.

“I will.” He said, though he no longer seemed so sure of it.

***

“No flowers?” Cody teased as Obi-Wan met his friend outside of Gryffindor’s common room as previously agreed upon. Obi-Wan truly should have expected Cody to miss the memo about dressing formally (even though he, himself, reminded him), but he was still aghast when his friend emerged wearing his Quidditch sweater and dark jeans.

“What happened to black tie?” He answered instead.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” Cody shrugged.

“But you do have a collared shirt and dress pants seeing as you wear them every school day.” Obi-Wan countered and referred to his own attire of a black and white tuxedo set of dress robes. “Is that a stain on the collar of your sweater?”

“Could be.” Cody tugged on the hem of it and ducked his chin to inspect before allowing it to snap back into place, “Seems like ketchup, though. Luckily, it practically blends in with the red.”

“It doesn’t.” He said.

“Look, if you wanted someone who would have looked a little more to your fancy, you would have just sucked it up and apologized to Satine.” He said and smacked him on the back, “But since the both of you are more stubborn than two bulls in a stare down, this is what you get. Frankly, you’re quite lucky I showered beforehand. I did have practice today.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “Let the record show that I have tried to apologize to Satine. She just never makes it quite easy.”

“She’ll come around,” Cody said, “Plus, I doubt she’s solely mad at you.”

“You’d be surprised how easy she finds it to be mad at me.”

“And likewise.” Cody said.

“The only difference is, I struggle with staying mad at her.” It was a bit too honest, it seemed, because Cody was regarding him with a smug look on his face that he didn’t quite appreciate. He’d rather be in on the joke, after all.

As they drew nearer to Palpatine’s office, they passed Ventress, who was dressed for the event in a black low-cut gown with a slit down the side. Her short-cropped hair was slicked back and her makeup was even harsher than usual, making her bone-white cheeks appear so sharp that they were almost hollow. She seemed to be waiting for someone, presumably whatever sad sack was to be her plus one, and was sure to glare at them as they passed.

“I see you’re slumming it, Kenobi.” She taunted, “Couldn’t get a date?”

“At least I didn’t likely have to bribe my guest, Ventress.” He responded swiftly and kept them moving.

“Or threaten.” Cody added offhandedly and when they got out of earshot said, “I won’t mention that I’m mostly here for the food.”

“Yes, thank you.” He muttered. “Let’s just get this thing over with.”

“Satine’s right, you really do know how to send the tones of a date.” Cody chuckled.

“This isn’t a- oh, nevermind.” He sighed, realizing that he wasn’t much in the mood to defend his case on that just now, “Who do you reckon she wanted to go with?”

“What do you mean?” He asked as they took their seats around the round clothed table. They were some of the first to arrive to the group that was unsurprisingly mostly composed of Slytherins. Palpatine was their Head of House, of course, so it made sense he spent the most time with them.

“Satine.” Obi-Wan unraveled the cloth napkin and smoothed it on his leg, “She was offended that I never considered if she’d want to go with someone else.”

“I don’t know if that’s the bit she was harping on.” Cody said carefully.

“Yes, I know, and she isn’t wrong about the company being a bit… Obvious.” Obi-Wan did see a downcast Anakin trailing behind who he presumed to be Miraj Scintel, whose Zygerrian feline features made her look much older and more sophisticated than 14 or 15. Her dress was long-sleeved and dark turquoise in fabric, but contained several plates of ornate gold to match the headband clasped at the front of her forehead.

“Anakin, dear, do fetch me some sparkling cider.” She said in a haughty voice that was meant to be heard. Her yellow eyes narrowed at him when he didn’t immediately leap at her request. “I have many words to exchange with the grownups.”

Anakin, who never leapt at anyone’s demands, shot her a sideways look and seemed ready to fire back his own opinions on that idea, but ended up just huffing and moving over to the concessions table.

“No,” Cody frowned as he noticed what was happening too, “She isn’t.”

***

Satine had far better uses of her time than sitting around a table, trading dull conversation with even duller people that were somehow measured as more impressive than she. Despite what she said to Cody and Obi-Wan, not being invited hadn’t really offended her all that much. That wasn’t to say she approved of Palpatine’s obvious biases. She wasn’t sure if the man even truly noticed he had them. He was never unkind to her or other muggle-borns explicitly, but there was certainly a bit of tokenism that came with their interactions. Truly, even if Obi-Wan had asked her in a more ideal manner, she wasn’t even sure if she’d go.

She sighed, because that was a lie and she knew it.

It certainly would have given her the opportunity to show just how flagrant Palpatine’s oversight had been. Beyond that, she wouldn’t have felt so utterly annoyed at her friend’s own obtusity.

How dare he just assume they’d go together without even asking? Even if they were to attend as friends, which she prided herself on questioning him about (if she weren’t so riled up, she was unsure she would have otherwise had the courage), it was only common decency to ask a person to go.

Really, she knew, it was the fact that he seemed dead-set on letting her know that it wasn’t a date that infuriated her beyond measure. Maybe that was a tad immature, since he certainly didn’t owe her dates or anything of the sort, but she couldn’t help but feel he was constantly sending her mixed signals these days. She should know, seeing as she couldn’t seem to stop hyper-analyzing every interaction they had together.

As she passed a bunch of fourth year girls that were gawking over Kit Fisto’s old Quidditch portrait, she rolled her eyes. She needed to ensure that she never got that boy crazy.

She decided on a trip to the library to return the books she’d borrowed on cursed objects. It was the simplest way to try and get Obi-Wan’s stupid incredulity off her mind. Besides, she never returned a book late before and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.

Professor Plo Koon had once again outdone himself with the decorations around the castle to commemorate the holiday season. It wasn’t the same without the promise of Qui-Gon’s party this year, but she could still take the time to appreciate the glittering icicles that hung along the ceiling. Only these, she noted, would have no risk of truly causing harm. She did have to reserve a chuckle at a startled first year, who leapt out of the way when an icicle “fell”, but they relaxed when it puffed into mist just above his head.

“Good evening, Ms. Nu.” Satine smiled at the older librarian, who never once looked like she was having an unpleasant day.

“How are you tonight, Miss Kryze?” She returned her mirth. Jocasta Nu always dressed for the holiday season and tonight was sporting a pair of earrings that looked like little red jingle bells adorned with holly.

“I’m well, thank you.” She nodded and handed over her stack of books to the bin, “Hoping to get a little light reading in.”

“Nothing new there!” She chuckled, “Though I was surprised to see you have a different studying partner for a change.”

Satine furrowed her brow, “Pardon? I haven’t got a new-”

She peered down the aisle to where she usually sat and noticed a set of legs from the seat opposite. She gave Jocasta Nu a sidelong glance before excusing herself to go investigate. It was silly, really, since it wasn’t like her name was inscribed in the wood finish. However, she spent more time in the library than most and everyone seemed to automatically know where she would be sitting.

Who she found was none other than Fenn Rau, who looked up immediately from his borrowed copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and offered her a small smile. He set down the book and placed a navy striped bookmark to save his spot.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding.” He said.

“It is a free library.” She joked, “You are free to sit wherever you choose.”

“This really is the best spot in the library.” He admired and looked around them. “No draft, away from the rubble, close to the most interesting books, and not too far from the entrance for comfort. You’ve chosen well!”

She followed his gaze around them and smiled, “I didn’t actually choose at all. Though I’m sure Ben took a lot of what you said into consideration. He’s a great deal more introspective than I am for such things.”

When his mouth twitched ever-so-slightly, Satine couldn’t help but think back to her conversation with Aayla and Stass. Still, when he made the friendly gesture for her to join him, she didn’t have much of a reason not to. She meant what she said to Jocasta Nu about getting some reading done and Fenn didn’t seem like the type to be noisy.

“Did you know Cody has the record for renting this book out the most?” Fenn laughed and showed her the inside of the book, where the library card had Cody’s signature embedded on several lines.

“When it comes to Quidditch, Cody doesn’t do anything in small doses.” Satine smiled, “I am surprised you chose to go out for the team. I don’t recall you ever having much interest in it before.”

“Things change.” He smiled, “People change.”

“Well, you’ve certainly proved yourself capable.” She said and moved to pull a book out from her bag.

“You know all about having to prove yourself, of course.” He said.

She raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly amended his statement, “I just meant being muggle-born and all. I get it. I mean, I’m not one. I’m a half blood, but it’s still strange, right? That there are different expectations for each of us based on something stupid like how we’re born. We’re all wizards, right?”

Satine felt a fire stoked within her and she straightened, “Exactly! And the fact that so many people don’t see that is beyond frustrating.”

“Well, some people don't know any better.” He said, “Look at the Kenobi’s. They’re one of the highest ranking families in the wizarding community. Do you think they could possibly understand what it’s like not to be born into wealth and status? I think they just assume they deserve it because they’ve had it for so long.”

She bit her tongue, because while she definitely agreed with some of his points, she wasn’t completely comfortable making them vocal right now.

Despite there not being any real cause for it, since Rau didn’t say anything explicitly, Satine still instinctively found herself saying, “Ben’s not like that, of course, so it’s got to be more than just a thing of nature.”

“Oh, of course! I never meant to insinuate otherwise.” He cleared his throat, “I know the two of you are quite close. I just… You’re just as good as him and yet you aren’t viewed as such. And between you and me, I don’t think I could ever go to some party where my friends aren’t wanted or welcome.”

She swallowed, unsure if he meant for that to sting the way that it did. He couldn’t possibly know he was uncovering one of her buried insecurities on the matter. She once again could not help dashing to his defense, which felt quite stupid given the circumstances.

“Well, originally he wanted to bring me.”

“I think.” She thought to herself. It wasn’t like he’d exactly seemed all that enthusiastic about the prospect of taking her.

“As a date?” Fenn perked up, even if he seemed to try and subdue any immediate reaction.

“No.” She rolled her eyes, “We’re just friends.”

“Ah, I see.” He nodded several times too many, but then shrugged, “He’s lucky to have a friend like you though.”

“Thank you. I know.” She chuckled, because perhaps Aayla and Stass were wrong about Rau’s intentions. It wasn’t like she ever saw him trailing along any friends. Maybe he was just a little awkward and in need of a friend. It was only a bonus that he seemed to have at least some critical understanding of the prejudice that still existed in their world.  

“I do hope he knows it too.” He teased.

“I think he does,” But she felt a biting indignance return to her, “Well, usually, anyway.”

Fenn frowned, “Usually?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to have this conversation right now and burden someone else with the stupid annoyance that plagued her. Oftentimes, her feelings confused her too much as it were. No need to dump all of it on someone else.

“I’m not at the party, am I?” She said and hoped she did so with the impression of wanting to leave it at that, “Besides, I don’t require validation from the potions professor to determine my value. I will be just fine on my own.”

“I’m sure of it.” Rau said, “He’s a fool for not choosing you in the first place.”

Whether he was talking about Obi-Wan or Palpatine had yet to be seen, but Satine couldn’t help but agree either way. Try as she might to argue otherwise, she did care that things were the way they were. She did care that she had to try twice as hard to be considered half as much. Even though Obi-Wan was her best friend, she knew there were opportunities he would always receive despite being on essentially the same playing field.

“Yes,” She said ardently, “He was.”

***

Anakin was beginning to understand why Palpatine’s annual dinner party was rarely occupied by younger students. He was having an impossibly difficult time staying awake. Miraj, as beautifully alluring and sophisticated as she was, wasn’t exactly the most loyal type, and sat between Ventress and Tarkin, the latter of whom she was obviously flirting with.

He was actually a bit relieved in a sense. It became despicably clear that the two didn’t have much in common beyond their intrigue in the darkness that hung over the horizon. She couldn’t seem to stop fixating on the dementors or the numerous near-death experiences. Anakin was wondering why he was tired of talking about them all the time now.

Classical Christmas music from a harp that played itself enveloped the room in a sleepy spirit and to Anakin felt a bit like a lullaby. Most of the chatter cycled around what each wizard’s prospects were for the future or what their parents did. It seemed mostly everyone already knew, so Anakin wasn’t quite sure why it bore repeating.

“So, mummy and daddy told the prime minister just where to shove his chilled water.” Scoffed Miraj, “Where I come from, presenting anything less than room temperature is enough for banishment.”

He didn’t quite get where she was from, but he made the mental note not to visit. Obi-Wan and Cody seemed to be making the same notation for themselves, because they both exchanged a surprised glance. Anakin was suddenly very glad that he was sitting with them instead.

“Truly, very few know how to behave around noblemen and women.” Tarkin, whose face always looked stretched stiff across his bones, showed the barest of smiles, “I’d have liked to see how you would have handled such an incident.”

“I’m merciful at the core, of course,” Miraj said, “But it does make one think about the divides in society, doesn’t it?”

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat beside Anakin and when he took a better look at his mentor, he couldn’t help but notice his jaw looked set with tension. His posture was perfectly straight and he’d hardly touched the sweet-soup that was in front of him. Anakin, on the other hand, couldn’t stop doing so as a distraction from this nonsense.

“That’s for your fingers,” Obi-Wan whispered and stretched out a napkin for Anakin.

“What?”

“That’s a finger bowl.” He nodded his head towards the little bowl, “For cleaning.”

Anakin looked down to the glass bowl to scrutinize it. He bent down, smelling the soft scent of lemon that was barely much more than a spritz for ambiance. When he shot back up, he glared at Obi-Wan.

“Why would I do that?” He asked.

“It’s meant to be cleansing before dessert.” He added gently, “Just go with it.”

“This is stupid.” He muttered and proceeded to dip his fingers in the bowl as instructed.

“I think it’s time our resident chosen one spoke of his impressive background.” Ventress practically hissed from across the table. Only difference was that Anakin would trust any snake before her, no matter how poisonous.

“Go on, Anakin.” Professor Palpatine smiled encouragingly, “I, too, am quite curious, actually.”

Had he really never mentioned his mum in detail to Palpatine before? He supposed it was possible. He was often so preoccupied when around the professor.

For some reason, he didn’t feel like he belonged anymore as he looked around the table. Even Miraj, who was supposed to be his plus one to the event, was looking at him in scrutiny.

“Well, I’m a half-blood.” Admitting this felt like lead on the tongue and he didn’t know why. He realized then that it was the first time he’d openly said such a thing. Sure, most knew that his mum is a witch and his dad was a muggle, but he’d never used the vocabulary to describe it in plain speech.

“I’ve no connection to my father.” He added, “But my mum is a witch and went to Hogwarts.”

“Why?” Ventress asked, her eyes narrowed and looking at him scathingly, though unlike Sebulba, who he at least returned some retaliation to, Anakin couldn’t quite figure out what he’d done for Ventress to hate him.

“Now, now, Ventress,” Palpatine said firmly, “That’s quite personal. If Anakin does not wish to share, that’s his-”

“-I never knew him.” Anakin bit harshly and looked at every single person at the table in the eyes, if only to make them a little uncomfortable by the truth, “He left before I was born and I was raised with the knowledge of being a wizard in an all-muggle world.”

“You poor thing.” Miraj said sadly, “That must have been dreadful.”

“Agreed,” Tarkin leaned back with crossed arms, “To not only bring a child into this world as a natural… Misfit, so to speak, but to bail out on one’s duties as a father.”

“Anakin is not a misfit, Tarkin.” Obi-Wan warned.

“Oh, I never meant it that way.” He held up white gloved hands and smiled a bit, “Just that it must be confusing to be raised that way, right Skywalker?”

Anakin shrugged, “Yeah, I was always getting into trouble.”

“Exactly! Like a square peg trying to fit into a circle.” He clapped a bit and then raised an eyebrow, “You know nothing of struggling to fit in, do you, Kenobi?”

Anakin didn’t understand the daring nature of Tarkin’s tone, but it did bring a decent amount of tension to Obi-Wan’s already stiff posture. He didn’t see how this would be much of a low-blow. Obi-Wan’s family was one of the most affluent in the wizarding community and surely never wanted for anything. Still, there was something about his mentor that reflected differently, like he never really wanted to be a part of all that.

“Everyone must struggle to find themselves.” Palpatine said as he swirled what must have been wine around his glass, raising it to inspect it in the emerald low-light, “I’ve helped many a student find their way.”

Was one of those students Maul?

“If only the muggles had your assistance, Professor.” Miraj said dutifully.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “Well, muggle-borns would probably be a decent start.”

Everyone stopped eating and looked at Obi-Wan in surprise. Even Cody seemed shocked by the candor of his friend. Anakin, on the other hand, was just realizing that he was the only person in the room that wasn’t a pureblood. Surely, that couldn’t have been intentional. Professor Palpatine was nothing but kind to every student he had. Maybe, this year he didn’t see any other students worthy of invitation.

Then again, there was the glaring omission of Satine that seemed to hang over everyone’s heads.

“Professor Palpatine can invite whomever he chooses fit, Kenobi.” Tarkin said stiffly.

Palpatine didn’t appear the least bit affected by the comment and instead raised his glass in Obi-Wan’s steely direction, “A good point, my dear boy. We, as a community, are moving forward in a diverse direction. I just do not wish to invite someone based on tokenism, but of their truest merit.”

“And what defines such a thing, Professor?” Obi-Wan asked, keeping his voice cordial. “Clearly, it cannot be solely academic prowess or athleticism.”

“Why, I simply like to invite students I’m closest with! Those who I’ve seen grow and become brilliant young witches and wizards over the years and who I believe I’ve had a hand in molding.” Palpatine shrugged with a small smile, “I truly wish some of the muggle-borns and half-bloods would follow Anakin’s example and allow themselves to accel in my potions classroom.”

Anakin nodded at this. It was true that he had been gravitating towards Palpatine since the beginning of his time at Hogwarts. While he never fancied himself a teacher’s pet in the past, he didn’t understand why people were so afraid to talk to their professors.

“Good enough for you and your sudden zest for socio-political justice?” Ventress asked and the condescending tone she was giving Obi-Wan was what made Anakin angrier than anything else.

“It will have to be.” Obi-Wan said with a sip of sparkling cider.

Cody grinned as he ate more lambchop.

“Do tell us about your mother, Anakin.” Palpatine said with a smile, “Contrary to popular belief, I am quite curious what your life in the muggle world was like.”

“Oh, I lived a pretty regular life.” Though Anakin realized not a single wizard at this table really knew what that entailed for him, “My mum is a waitress and serves food to people.”

“We’re not stone aged, we know what waitresses are.” Ventress sneered.

“They don’t use magic to deliver food.” Anakin said, “So it’s a lot harder and they have to balance everything on this big tray. She works for this creep named Watto, who never gives her any holidays off or anything like that.”

“That’s awful.” Bail Organa, the sole representative from Hufflepuff house, said.

“Sounds like slavery to me.” Cody murmured.

“But she makes decent money.” He said, “Keeps a roof over our head and food in our stomach.”

“Who would have thought the bar was so low?” Miraj sighed.

Anakin ignored that and went on, “One thing muggles definitely have over wizards is television, because I’ve grown up watching a good deal of that. There’s all these fictional programs both animated and live-action and they act out stories.”

“Like in a play.” Obi-Wan said, utterly transfixed, “I’ve heard of it before, but I’ve never actually watched. Is it occurring live or is it pre-recorded?”

“Both!” Anakin chirped, “Reality TV is crazy and super weird. My mum says that’s staged too, but I don’t know if you can make some of that stuff up. I used to think the TV could hear me, but there are writers that make up the plots and stuff before they film.”

“And how does one operate such a device?” Tarkin asked.

“Oh, by electricity and stuff!”

“Electricity.” Cody said reverently, “We’ve actually got some of that in my house now.”

“No kidding?” Obi-Wan turned to Cody.

“For light bulbs and stuff. Ninety-Nine managed to figure out.”

“Well, he’s got not much else to do.” Snickered Faro Argyus, who had accompanied Ventress as her date.

“What did you say?” Gritted Cody as he placed firm hands to the table.

“Oh, nothing, just that he isn’t in school is all.” Faro’s smile feigned innocence, but had a shit-eating quality that made Anakin’s skin crawl. The fact that he chose now to join the discourse was a very poor decision on his end. Cody, meanwhile, looked like a blood vessel might burst in his head.

“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Just a warning that you might be spitting out some teeth too, if you say the wrong thing, mate.” Cody said tightly.

Everyone looked to Faro, who just snapped his trap shut like the coward he was and leaned back in his chair. Palpatine gave him a disapproving look before sighing.

“Please maintain decorum. This is meant to be a celebration, not a brawl.”

“Tell that to pretty boy.” Cody argued.

“I do not want to have to remove any points this evening, especially not from two guests.” Palpatine said it like he was reminding them that they didn’t need to be there. They were merely courtesies to Obi-Wan and Ventress.

“Don’t be a fool, Faro.” Ventress said, “We all know everyone’s capable in their own way.”

“Right you are, Ventress.” Palpatine smiled.

“For instance, Skywalker’s mum can screw more than just a lightbulb.” She fluttered her icy glare to Anakin, “Obviously.”

Anakin only remembered grabbing a fistful of bean dip before seeing nothing but white.

***  

After finally calming the calamity of flying food that ensued shortly after Anakin had made the first decisive throw, Professor Palpatine had deemed that the night was to be put to an abrupt end since it seemed most of them could not behave like civilized adults. This was fine with Obi-Wan, who hadn’t bothered to remove points from Anakin for starting the whole fight. After all, Ventress truly had something coming to her for speaking so far out of turn for no reason other than to be cruel.

Palpatine dismissed each of them except for Anakin, presumably to receive a firm talking to based on how impulsively he’d acted. Obi-Wan hoped he wasn’t too hard on him. It wasn’t like it hadn’t been deserved.

But that wasn’t how things worked at Hogwarts or in the real world, as his parents had been sure to teach him. Life wasn’t always fair and sometimes the wrong person got blamed simply for not being able to control themselves. It was why the aspect of controlling his emotions was always so important to them.

And for the most part, he thought he was quite good at it.

He still hadn’t been able to resist countering Palpatine’s charitable view of himself when it came to his invitees- not when there was a glaring omission. It wasn’t like Obi-Wan was particularly close with Palpatine. His parents might have been in their day, so he supposed there was a favor to be had there (one that likely would not be handed to him next year).

Guilt nagged at him as he considered the lack of empathy that dripped in Tarkin, Miraj, and Faro’s voices as they talked about the muggles or even Anakin’s situation. Even more so was it disturbing that Obi-Wan had clearly shielded himself from seeing just how clearly people were opposed to the other side of living. He didn’t get it, truly. Why did it matter? It wasn’t like muggles were exactly hunting them out. They would have a clear disadvantage if they were.

But maybe that was his own biases talking. Satine had gone on to tell him in excessive detail over the years about the various enhancements in modern technology that placed muggles far ahead of wizards. Maybe that’s what scared so many at the Ministry.

Still, Obi-Wan knew it wasn’t right. He saw the way Anakin looked so small under their questioning and he cringed at being unable to protect him completely from the scrutiny that would surely follow the boy. It certainly didn’t help his case that his father wasn’t involved. Wizards would grasp onto that for something to point to for certain, as if there weren’t plenty of wizard or witch deadbeats in their era.

His dress shoes clicked across the stone floor towards the library almost mindlessly. He knew he wouldn’t rest well if he didn’t express a true sentiment of apology. In a way, he was glad Satine wasn’t there. She didn’t deserve to be exposed to that sort of thinking. She could handle herself, of course, and while he was often beguiled by her, it had been obvious that she was upset by his manner of asking.

It wasn’t very proper of him, thinking back. His parents would have been very disappointed in how he’d gone about it if it were someone else.

So, he smiled at Jocasta Nu as he stuck his hands in his pockets and prepared himself to approach Satine with his tail between his legs. He couldn’t help but smile to himself about the fact that she was so often ahead of him and was likely expecting an appearance any second from now.

“Oh, Mr. Kenobi?” Jocasta Nu’s kind voice cut him off before he could get too far.

“Yes, Madame Nu?” He asked.

“You’re… Er, you’ve got some potatoes in your hair, dear.”

Obi-Wan frowned and turned his eyes up, noticing that his hair, while in disarray, was also coated in a white fluffy substance. He groaned as he reached up and grabbed a sample of it.

“That explains why Zeb asked me if I’m saving food for later, now doesn’t it?” He laughed half-heartedly. He glanced down towards his usual aisle and sighed. It seemed he would not only be giving Satine an apology, but something to tease him about for a very long time. At least that would make it a lot easier to accept his apology.

He tried to pick what he could from his hair and frowned even deeper at the realization that his clothes were covered in random splotches of food substance as well. He would certainly need to perform some cleaning and ironing spells on these later to get the stains out.

He was just about to vocalize a pun about wearing his dinner when he stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar sound of Satine’s laugh. Unless she was reading a particularly humorous tome, which he doubted, she wasn’t alone. As he slowly crept down the aisle and remained careful to be eclipsed by the bookcases around him, he peered around the corner to see none other than Fenn Rau sitting across from her.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why it suddenly felt like he’d eaten something bad at the dinner party, but it certainly wasn’t settling well. Rau was sitting in Obi-Wan’s usual seat, which bore a greater sense of unease in his chest as they chatted excitedly about what appeared to be the ridiculousness of wizarding politics.

It seemed Rau had found his in.

If Satine didn’t seem to appreciate the present company, Obi-Wan surely would have made his presence known and a small part of him- the part that made his teeth bite down on his tongue incredibly hard- still wanted to. For what? It felt strangely similar to the analogy of a pissing contest at the core and he didn’t know why he would be so eager to butt his way into their conversation.

It certainly wasn’t the way Satine’s laugh lit up the room or how Rau seemed to relish in just being in her mere presence. It absolutely was not that he’d beat him here or sat in his seat. It wasn’t like the guilt that once pooled in his sternum was now slipping into regret, as it so often easily could.

No, not at all.

As Rau talked about how passionate his wizard-father was about activism and his mother was practically an environmentalist, Obi-Wan suddenly felt like he didn’t belong here at all. It was as though he’d fallen so far behind on a race he never intended on running and to his perspective, could not catch up.

Did he want to?

He shook his head. Since she was happy and clearly not sulking over not attending Palpatine’s disastrous dinner party, he supposed he would just catch her at a different time.

***

Anakin didn’t quite remember lashing out at Asajj Ventress, but everyone, including Miraj, looked at him with a decent dose of apprehension. It was a stark reminder of what it felt like to be the freak last year. He didn’t like it, but it was sobering.

What worried him most was how Palpatine would react to his reaction. He wasn’t sure how anyone in their right mind could possibly allow Ventress off the hook for what she’d said. Even Obi-Wan hadn’t provided some lecture about how he could control his own actions and not the words of others. Instead, his mentor tried to quietly guide him out of the room to cool off. Instead, Palpatine had stopped him to have a chat.

The music had abruptly stopped, though Anakin had been so busy trying to garner some form of revenge on Ventress for what she said to notice. Everyone else had completely wrecked the place with scraps of food. Those finger bowls had truly been terribly placed and more of a mess in the end. Anakin, like everything else around the room, was covered in the five course meal.

It was at least a little good to know that wizards couldn’t resist a good food fight either.

He wondered when Palpatine was going to speak. He looked around the room in disappointment before raising his wand just above his head.

“Tersus Sursum!” He dashed his wand in an arched movement and before Anakin’s eyes, a mop and broom came flying out of the cupboard and got to work. A rag wiped down the walls where stray splatter had gathered. Even the ceiling was being tended to, which neither of them could have possibly reached if they wanted. Dishes raised themselves in the air and started to move to an already running sink. Palpatine didn’t even have to focus on them to continue their routine.

Anakin, despite likely being in massive trouble, couldn’t help but yearn for such a trick when he had to do chores at home. Still, if he wasn’t going to make Anakin clean the place, he wondered what punishment would seem fit.

“I apologize for the mess, Professor.” Anakin said quietly.

The only thing Palpatine took the time to clean for himself was a strange contraption that sat across his mantle. It was a little wooden prism that had to be a paperweight, that Palpatine touched only with the washcloth in hand before setting it back down.

“What Ventress said upset you.” He said instead.

Anakin frowned, “Well, yeah. Where I’m from, you don’t disrespect someone’s mum like that.”

“Indeed, mothers are often a soft spot,” He folded his hands behind his back, facing the darkness of his room as the cleaning tools worked on their own accord, “You do not need to apologize, Anakin.”

This surprised Anakin even more, “Really?”

If Windu had it his way, Anakin likely would have been writing a 5000 word essay on why throwing potatoes at a girl was worthy of the death penalty… Or something along those lines.

“Something was done wrong by you and you evened the score.” He said and finally turned back to face the light, a small smile on his lips, “You really should not fear your anger, my boy. It is only healthy to explore it, to understand it, to become the kind of powerful wizard you wish to be one day.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Anakin said.

“But of course, my dear boy.” Palpatine smiled, “If I could make a recommendation, it’s that next time you wish to get back at Ventress, please ruin your own drapes.”

He chuckled, “Yes sir.”

Through the fog of relief and surprise that was overcoming his senses, Anakin finally remembered his purpose for truly attending the banquet. It had been hard in the midst of the chaos that he’d brought and was even more difficult to fathom when Palpatine was being so understanding.

He stopped in his tracks, which had obviously caught Palpatine’s attention.

“Is everything alright, Anakin?”

“Yeah, I just… I wanted to say I’m glad you’ve chosen to take me under your wing…” Anakin lingered in the doorway. “Any student would be lucky. Pureblood or half-blood or not.”

“It matters not to me what you are, Anakin.” Palpatine said, “I believe you will go on to do great things. I’ve believed that before we discovered your prophecy, have I not?”

Anakin nodded, “You have… But what was it about me that made you believe I was special?”

“I’m older than you can imagine, I’m sure.” He laughed a bit to himself, “One develops a knack for it after all these years.”

“Did you see something in Maul?” It wasn’t as discrete as he’d hoped to be, especially based on the way the smile flickered on Palpatine’s face before he shook his head numerous times in curious denial.

“Maul was a very troubled boy.” He shivered, “Quite troubled, indeed. A very different situation than you. I wanted to help him, whereas I believe one day, you will help me and the rest of the wizarding community.”

Anakin swallowed, “So, you weren’t close?”

“I mentored him as best I could,” He said sympathetically, “He used to live in that Shrieking Shack during the summers. He had nowhere else to go. I only wanted to help him. Opened up my office to him at any time, because I did see power in him. It was a dangerous sort, of course, so I knew I had to limit him in what he could learn. There were certain spells and paths to darkness that while someone like myself could merely study from an objective perspective, Maul could use for real damage.”

“What happened to him?” He asked.

“He…” Palpatine sighed, “He lost control one day. A young Twi’lek girl named Eldra Kaitis was found impaled by none other than Maul’s dagger.”

Could it have been the same dagger found in the parcel Maul sent him?

Anakin gasped, “But… Why?”

“I asked myself that very question.” He said as he walked over to the window to look outside, “And the only answer that allows me to properly sleep at night is knowing that there was no helping him. There are people who choose darkness, Anakin. Those people can grow to be strong and wise in their own right. Look at Dooku, for instance. While evil, of course, he still maintains his sanity and decorum. Maul, on the other hand, was born of it. And there is no use trying to sustain it.”

He swallowed, “You must have taken that quite hard.”

“Oh, I did.” He said, “It was my greatest failure to date.”

Anakin shook his head, “I’m sorry to bring this up, Professor. I’m sure it upsets you talking about it. I’ve just been trying to find out why Maul would ever want to come for me. It’s not like I’ve ever done anything to him.”

“Well, we are turning up on the anniversary of his first kill.” Palpatine said, “And in many ways, I believe Maul fancies himself set up.”

“By who?” Anakin frowned, “He did it himself.”

“And admitted to it.” He said gravely, “We can’t really trust the tongue of a mad-man, though, can we?”

“No,” Anakin said, “We can’t.”

After he’d turned to leave and bid Palpatine goodnight, the old man waited a long moment, choosing to retain the sullen and sympathetic mask he wore so well, before curling his wrinkled lips into a devious smile.

“Sending the boy to spy… Well played, Professor Qui-Gon.”

***

“You were right…” The apprentice said to the flames that crackled softly in Slytherin house. Not a single soul dared to be awake after the embarrassment they’d just been through. The luminescence of the green fire felt like a reflection of her soul.

“Good…” A hushed voice responded. “You know what you need to do.”

“Yes.” They said, eyes practically glowing in anticipation for what was to come next. “So, long as that monster Maul doesn’t get in our way.”

“I’m sure he’ll be taken care of.” Dooku’s sly grin could send chills even so close to the hot flames.

“How can you be so sure?” They asked.

“He has a bone to pick with my master,” Dooku said, “The inadequate brute is never wise enough to know his limits. He believes he has none.”

“I see,” They said, “And what of me?”

“Do you have the sword?” His deep voice rumbled in his throat.

“I do.”

“Oh, there will be plenty more where that comes from,” He said. “Plenty more indeed. I will see you over break so we can reconvene.”

***

Satine yawned as she finally made her way up the spiral staircase and into the Ravenclaw common room. She’d been intent on going straight to bed, but was stopped immediately by a very disheveled-looking Obi-Wan as he practically launched up from his spot on the couch, where he’d obviously been waiting for her.

“You’re back.” He said and it was immediately apparent that something was off with him.

For one thing, he looked like he’d just paced back and forth enough times to accumulate the steps for a full marathon. His face was red and he looked quite anxious over seeing her. It was clear he had been waiting for her though.

Another, was that he was covered in food.

She’d almost forgotten how cross she was with him when she saw how silly he truly looked. She moved to pick a piece of lettuce that was stuck to the collar of his shirt. “Did you happen to get into a fight with a blender this evening?”

“I won’t even start with you on asking what that is,” He said, “I just wanted to have a word with you regarding this evening.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, “And here I wanted to go to bed without an argument beforehand.”

“I’ll keep it brief, I swear.” He was so earnest, even with what looked to be potatoes that coated his hair to droop into his face.

“Alright,” She crossed her arms like she wasn’t about to listen to him anyway. She still wanted some clarification on why he looked like such a mess.

“You deserved to be asked out tonight on a proper date.” Obi-Wan said and Satine suddenly felt like the air in her lungs had been replaced with jelly by some cruel spell and he didn’t stop there, “In a way that made you feel like the beautiful person that you are… With the person you fancy.”

“I- Er- Uh”

“Anything intelligent would be good right now, thank you, Kryze.”

Luckily, he showed no signs of noticing the way her brain stopped producing normal and coherent thoughts.

“And more than anything, I want you to be happy.” He insisted, almost like he was convincing himself and he took her hands in his, “Trust me when I say you weren’t missing much tonight, aside from possibly seeing me get my face dunked in a pie…”

She felt laughter bubble up at that and was relieved for it, because she thought she might pass out soon if she didn’t have the excuse for a dramatic inhale of breath. Her cheeks might pop by how hard she must have been smiling.

His smile was radiant and nervous as he said, “But I promise you… This person you fancy… Feels the same way back.”

It was quite possible the angels were singing and a warm glow of sunshine prematurely hung over them in that moment. Her eyes flickered to his mouth as she stepped closer to him. She’d never seen someone look handsome while covered in casserole, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was an enigma in and of itself.

“Oh, does he?” She was finally able to say and could have patted herself on the back right then and there for not making it sound like a little chipmunk squeak. It definitely ran the risk of doing so by how little oxygen her brain was getting right now.

“He does.” His mouth twitched and if she wasn’t so busy buzzing off the shock that rattled through her from how unexpected this confession was, she would have thought he looked a bit green. Then again, he was never great with handling his feelings.

“Is he going to do anything about it?” She asked after a long beat of Obi-Wan searching her face with his calculating eyes.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?” He said, “I think he’s probably a bit intimidated.”

“There’s absolutely no reason for that.” She said, “He can tell me anything.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad for that.” Obi-Wan said, “You should tell him.”

“Alright then,” She took a deep breath and squeezed his hands in an attempt to both center her courage and tamper down the butterflies in her stomach, “Ben, I-”

“Oh, Satine, you forgot your quill in the library!” Fenn Rau trotted up the stairs behind her and she swore, pacifism be damned, that she almost shoved him backwards. They shared a laugh or two this evening, but had drawled on and on to the point where her eyes felt they might droop shut earlier. On top of that, he did have the awful tendency to pop up at the worst of times.

“Ah, Rau, brilliant.” Obi-Wan didn’t seem as enthusiastic as his words tried to make him out to be, “Satine wanted to talk to you about something.”

Satine shot back around to Obi-Wan, eyes wide in shock, “I what?”

“You know, what we were just discussing.” He said, “Literally three seconds-”

“-I wasn’t- You weren’t- He is not-” And just like that, Satine’s brain stuttered back into the present and realized what had unfortunately been going on.

“Are you alright?” Poor Rau, who never asked for any of this, was looking at Satine like she was having a stroke. Then again, she very well might be.

“She was fine a moment ago.” Obi-Wan placed a warm hand on Satine’s arm, which would normally be a very comforting gesture. Except right now, it felt sweltering under the circumstances.

Where there had once been the sweet and soft sensation of what she’d hoped to be verbalized mutual affection, there was now the fervid storm that was just how stupid they both were at the same time.

Him, for failing to use that brilliant mind of his for anything outside of reading a book and her for ever believing that it would be that easy.

“What is it?” Fenn asked.

She knew that because of Obi-Wan’s idiocy, she had to say something, but she was having a difficult time wrapping her head around anything except for the fact that after all of this time, Obi-Wan was under the impression that she fancied Fenn Rau somehow.

“I’d like to switch patrol times.” She spat, “I fear if I have to look at him in the morning I might just turn him sunny-side up.”

“Er… Alright.” Fenn said slowly, but likely more because he was a bit nervous to say anything else. Because one boy in this room had to have a little bit of sense, he slithered away from them to finish whatever was obviously going on. She only wished Obi-Wan exercised that sort of intuition every once in a while.

After the door shut behind him, Obi-Wan turned to her with a frown.

“What was that?”

She pointed a finger at him, anger spewing out every which way, “That was you being an absolute moron!”

“Satine!” He called after her as she shoved past him towards the staircase, “I was only trying to help you get a bloody date!”

“I didn’t want a bloody date!” She fired back, venom pumping heavily through her veins. Oh, if only softer words came as easily, “I wanted you to stop being a fool and it seems that is a lost cause of a wish, now isn’t it?”

“I resent that!” He countered, “You’re the one who’s been snapping off at me like I’m supposed to be a mind-reader! I saw the two of you together and I know he likes you. What else was I to think?”

“That if I were ever given the choice between you and anyone else in the entire cosmic universe, I would always always choose you. Even when you’re being positively ridiculous and have unsavory food in your hair and on your clothes. There’s not even a competition as far as I’m concerned. I just want you to know that.”

“That I shouldn’t have to spell everything out for you!” She argued, “That he’s not my type, I don’t know! You’re just supposed to know! Not pawn me off to the first person that expresses interest.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He said with a lot less fire than before, “I’m sorry.”

She sighed through her nose, finding it difficult to be mad at him when he was looking up at her with sad eyes like that. “It’s alright.”

He slowly traversed up the steps to meet her and then stand over her in height, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I know.” She said quietly. “Did you want it to be him?”

“Heavens, no.” He blurted out and then coughed, “I’m not sure who I would have liked it to be, though.”

She almost wanted to shake him to get him to process that thought just a little more and he reached out and hesitantly took her hand, “But whoever he is, he’s quite lucky.”

“You’re still an idiot.” She said, meaning it quite thoroughly.

“I know.” He said just as gently, “But I’d like to think I’m your idiot.”

Yes, indeed. And Satine was too for her treasonous heart’s increase in pace at his quiet words. They hadn’t been the ones she’d wanted, but they would do.

***

Cody shoved his things into his duffle bag. He never necessitated bringing that much home for Christmas break. He didn’t see why he would need to. He had some winter clothes at home and most of what he would be doing consisted of playing outside anyway. Underwear, socks, toiletries, and his winter outerwear would more than do.

And of course, all of his Quidditch stuff, which admittedly tended to provide a bit of weight, much to the prefects’ verbal complaints when they got stuck with luggage duty. Another large part of his exit duties was to ensure his brothers were ready to go. His father would have his head if he didn’t make sure the other boys were well-prepared.

The twins were mostly attune to this routine by now and despite their tendencies of playing around, knew better than to test the formidable stoicism of Jango Fett. It wasn’t like Rex was keen on being a bugger, but he was still a little guy and often unprepared for leaving, no matter how many times Cody asked him if he’d started packing.

“Why do you get to pack last minute and I don’t?” He complained.

“Because I’ve got it down to a science and you forgot to bring socks home last year,” Cody said plainly, “You’re lucky we all had hand-me-downs ready to go.”

In all fairness, growing up the youngest of seven likely resulted in Rex never being short on hand-me-downs.

“We’re wizards, I could have just washed them.” He said.

“Muggles can wash their clothes too, mate.”

“Don’t act like you know how.” He complained as he dejectedly sat back on his bunk. Cody had already inspected his littlest brother’s bag and approved that he’d packed everything necessary, but his forlorn expression was towards the already made up bunk across from him.

Rex was still quite cross about his falling out with Skywalker, of which the boy absolutely refused to budge on speaking about. He claimed he was fine and better off without him, but Cody caught him more than once pulling out the issues of comic books that Anakin had given him the previous year.

A couple weeks off would do the boy some good, clear his head and all that. Cody, meanwhile, was just looking forward to having time outside of classes to scramble up a strategy for the back half of the year. So, their team hadn't gotten off on the show stopping start that he’d wished for them. A little bit of stakes was good for any team. They were very much still in the game and so long as Maul or any creepy possessions didn’t cancel the season, they had nothing to fear.

“Alright, well, I’m heading down to the train. Are you coming?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m coming. I’ll wait for the twins.”

“Right, well don’t wait up,” Cody snorted as he looked over to Echo and Fives as they were debating which pranks from Zonko’s to bring home and more importantly, which to unleash on their older brothers first.

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Rex puffed out his chest.

“Good man,” Cody smiled.

The boy needed some more confidence and Cody learned by now that it was no good in taking him down right now, even in a joking matter.

He clapped the shoulders of a few of his teammates on his way down and out the Gryffindor common room, his trunks floating aimlessly behind him as he went. Many other students did the same as he entered the chaos that was the hallway outside of Gryffindor’s entrance. Prefects led and escorted younger students, reminding them to also bring the necessities home.

He perked up when he caught a glimpse of Kenobi’s pristine head, who was just finishing a side conversation with Bail Organa. It seemed the two were trading notes of some kind.

“What’d you get stuck with this time?” He asked.

Kenobi sighed and looked down to his clipboard, “I’m to count heads once aboard the train.”

“Right on, you’ll be along soon then.” He said.

“Hopefully,” He shrugged, “Everyone’s running around like it’s a madhouse today. Not sure why everything feels different.” He leaned in, “Between you and me, I awoke with a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

Cody snorted, “Probably lingering food poisoning from that rich food from the banquet.”

“I mean it, Cody,” He said seriously, “Bail said no one in his house slept very well last night.”

Cody scratched the back of his neck, “Well, that’s pretty unusual for the Hufflepuffs. What do they have to worry about? Not like they’re concerned about winning the House Cup.”

“It’s just uneasy that all of the students will be free from Hogwarts protective barriers for the first time since Maul released himself.” He sighed heavily, clearly trying to convince himself, “That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, I reckon Maul is trying to hide deep in the mountains or something, away from people that are going to catch him,” Cody waved him off, “You just need some fresh air.”

“You look green,” Fenn Rau approached them unannounced and while Cody didn’t have nearly the same level of beef with the fifth year, he also didn’t appreciate his unprecedented arrivals in the middle of private conversations.

“Thanks,” Kenobi frowned.

“Satine must have really let you have it last night, huh?” He smirked, which made Kenobi look like he would take great pleasure in smacking the smugness from his face. Kenobi was a great deal more cordial than Cody, though.

Unfortunately, Cody was merely just flabbergasted at what he could possibly be talking about.

“What happened last night?” Cody asked Kenobi, whose face went a shade pink.

“Just a bit of a misunderstanding,” He shrugged and Cody knew by now not to take his casual aplomb so literally.

“Oh, you should have seen it!” Rau laughed, “Satine looked like she wanted to mess him up! If she wasn’t so committed to her stance against any form of violence, I’d say she would have! Prefect status be damned!”

Wow, that must have been quite the fight for them to be so caught up that they didn’t stop on Rau’s behalf. Cody would need details later.

“I’ll have you know, everything is perfectly fine. Don’t you worry,” Kenobi said tightly and looked back down to his clipboard, “Don’t you have guard duty with Zeb?”

Rau blew a breath out through his nose, “Yeah, I just hope he doesn’t still have such awful gas. I don’t know who thought it fit to give him leftovers, but it was cruel.”

When Kenobi smiled a bit at the fifth year Ravenclaw’s departure, Cody nearly fell over in a fit of laughter.

“Maybe you should have been a Slytherin!” He smacked his arm.

Kenobi fully broke his pristine facade for a moment, offering him a grin, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

***

“Need help with that?” Professor Fisto asked as Anakin struggled to drag his suitcase behind him. Normally, his stuff wouldn’t be so heavy, but Cody had insisted they practice over break and that meant bringing equipment home. His mother was going to kill him when this weighed down the trunk of her car.

“Yes sir,” He nodded eagerly as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor easily plucked the bag up and carried it by the handle. They walked in tandem down the winding path that led them towards the Hogsmeade station. A few giggling girls were not far behind them, likely not in awe of Anakin.

He looked up at the aquatic professor in scrutinization. He was, no doubt, a great professor and taught them more dueling tactics than Anakin could count, but he really didn’t see why they all drooled over him.

“Where do you live?” He asked.

“I’m from the coast.” Professor Fisto smiled, “I do look forward to dipping my toes in some real water.”

“Do you live underwater?” He supposed a lake didn’t count, but then again, Anakin did prefer swimming in the ocean.

“People like me kind of have to,” He smiled, “Aside from wizarding settlements, muggles might have some questions when looking at me unless I’m in disguise.”

“Living in disguise would be pretty hard,” Anakin nodded, “I don’t get why everything needs to be so divided.”

“Blood-torn history,” When he shook his head, his long green tentacles wiggled and shifted on their own accord, “I hope that someday we can find mutual peace. I don’t think I’m alone in that hope either.”

“You want peace?” He raised an eyebrow, “But you’re the one who started the dueling club!”

“To teach you to protect yourself,” Kit Fisto said, “I’d prefer diplomatic negotiations towards a fight any day, but that isn’t how the world works right now. They say you’re going to be the one to set it right.”

“I don’t see how,” Anakin admitted. Talking to Kit Fisto was surprisingly easy, considering they didn’t know each other that well outside of class. Anakin had a good grade in DADA and was top of his tier in the dueling club and up until now, that seemed more than enough.

“You’ll have help,” Fisto nodded, “Everyone needs it.”

“Even bad guys?” He asked.

“Bad guys think they don’t need help, which is part of their weaknesses that can be exploited.”

“Some people think Maul had help back in the day, but I don’t know much about that,” Anakin shrugged and glanced towards the Shrieking Shack. It had a different connotation now that he understood it was Maul who committed that awful murder there that Rex had referenced previously.

“Maybe he did, but he’s on his own now,” Fisto shrugged, “Evil, like the Sith, don’t flourish with teamwork. They always get too big for their britches in my experience. That’s why grouping together to fight is the best laid plan we could have. To combat an evil like Maul, for instance, it’s going to take an army.”

Anakin hoped that’s all it took.

***

Winter break had crept up on her this year. With the dementors still lurking on the premises and the threat of Maul and Dooku looming over them, the holidays just didn’t feel the same. Satine had been tasked with roll call of every fourth year and Obi-Wan, who was working beside her, was in charge of the fifth years. They worked steadily beside one another until every single student had been boarded onto the Hogwarts express.

“I’m only missing Rau,” He tilted his head, scrutinizing his list, “He should still be with Zeb guarding the first car.”

“I’m missing someone...” Satine was running through her list again, double, triple checking before she raised her hand waving over Professor Qui-Gon who looked at her very concerned to have been needed, “Bultar Swan’s not here,” She handed her list to their professor who frowned.

“Obi-Wan?” He asked, tucking her list under his arm, “Are you finished?” He nodded and handed over his as well, “Alright, the two of you need to get on the train, I’ll check this out.”

He waved them off. Obi-Wan watched him walk away with a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, but when Satine touched his shoulder, he shook her off with a smile.

“After you,” He bowed at her gesturing for her to get on the train which she did happily.

“Such a gentleman,” She joked, leading them towards their usual cabin.

Things were much more strict this year, that much she could tell as she settled into her seat across from Cody. The train wouldn’t leave until everyone was accounted for, which perhaps made more sense than just making everyone who missed the train stay at school for the holidays. They weren’t allowing many students to stay this year, only those who made a case to the Headmaster himself, which were few and far between. She supposed the threat was just too big.

“You’re going to Qui-Gon’s ‘unofficial’ holiday party aren’t you?” Obi-Wan’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at him. Why was he asking her that? Did that mean he wanted to see her? She mentally chastised herself. Of course he’d want to see her, and Cody. Anything was likely better than spending more time in that house of his, though the thought did make her heart hurt.

“I am,” She confirmed, “Are you?”

He nodded, “I’ll find a way.”

“Cody?” She broke away from staring into Obi-Wan’s grey-blue eyes that always looked just a little melancholic when they sat together on the train.

“Of course!” He perked up, “Free food and a party! The Fett boys love a good time.”

They were interrupted by Professor Kit Fisto, who popped his head into his compartment, marked them down on his list and then with an apologetic smile closed their door. He needn’t explain, Yoda had warned them that morning that there was to be no moving about the train, their doors were magically locked and would only open in an emergency. In little time at all, the train whistle blew and she felt the lurch as it pulled out of the station. Her thoughts felt lighter as she realized they must have found the elusive Bultar Swan. She had likely just slipped through Satine’s fingers.

***

“Send the train,” Windu had instructed even over Qui-Gon’s rather loud objection.

“Mace we’re still missing a fourth year-” He had called, but once the train started there was really no stopping it.

“We’ll find her,” Windu nodded towards the castle, “We can take her home through the Floo Network, but there’s no use halting the train any longer for one student,” Qui-Gon didn’t look like he much agreed, but he could do nothing else to protest so instead he just looked down at Satine’s careful handwriting.

“Well, let’s get a move on then,” Qui-Gon turned towards Hogsmeade, they had a bit of a walk back to the castle gates. A walk that Windu spent searching for any traces of a possible kidnapping. He doubted Ms. Swan was valuable to the likes of Dooku or Maul, but then again, he was hardly sure what they wanted with Mr. Skywalker. Prophecy or not they chose quite a handful of a student to go after.

He found nothing amiss, not even a broken stick, by the time they entered into the castle, the large doors slamming shut behind them. Wordlessly both he and Qui-Gon took out their wands and latched the door shut. There would be no need to open them again any time soon.

“Headmaster Yoda,” Qui-Gon greeted and sure enough when Mace turned around he was greeted with the sight of his old friend. Yoda hadn’t been standing there before and never moved very quickly, yet always seemed to appear places where Mace felt he should have heard him coming. If apparition wasn’t forbidden in the school, he would have blamed such a feat on that.

“Back so soon, you are?” He questioned and Qui-Gon frowned.

“We’re missing a student,” Qui-Gon seemed not to know when such things should be kept on the down low. Mace crossed his arms already looking to see if anyone had overheard. Yoda frowned, a grave sort of expression crossing his face.

“Find this student, we will.”

Mace knew that Yoda was under immense outside pressure. The Kenobi’s had of course let their anger with the Headmaster show at the conferences, but they weren’t the only family to express several grievances and concerns.

“We will,” Mace repeated as he nodded to both the Headmaster and Qui-Gon before turning and heading off to check the dungeons.

Qui-Gon would check the Ravenclaw common room and the Headmaster would likely check amongst the students. Mace had to frown when he remembered that because of the tunnels, there was much more ground to cover and she could even be in another common room with her friends. With that thought in mind he paused in front of a rather unassuming wall.

Pressing his hand to the wall he muttered a quiet, “Sneezewort,” before the wall practically sucked him inside. It was an unwelcome feeling and he wasn’t sure how the Slytherin’s had become immune to the way the stones scraped against their skin as they phased through. Perhaps they hadn’t.

The inside of the common room glowed green from the light filtering down through the lake's surface. He was greeted with a couple very confused looking Slytherins. A third year boy who had been watching a few of the aquatic residents swim around and a 7th year girl with a few books spread out before her. Both stared up at him as if they were waiting to get in trouble. When he did nothing, but march to check the boys dormitory, the girl stood up.

“What mysterious thing are you looking for now?” She huffed. Mace turned back towards her. She had her arms crossed and was looking up at him in annoyance, “You think we have Maul locked up down here or something?”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, of course the students were on edge, especially the older students. School hadn’t been as chaotic and dangerous before last year, certainly the extra stress was getting to the older students, especially the seventh years trying to take their NEWT exams.

“I’m looking for a student,” Mace decided not to give her the full details, lest Ms. Swan was trying to hide from them, “Would you check the girls' dormitories for me?” The seventh year straightened, she looked appreciative to have been given such a task. With a nod she hurried up the stairs.

Neither of them ended up finding anyone else and Mace left their common room without another word. The rest of the dungeons were just as boring as they usually were. He barely even looked in Palpatine’s office, there certainly seemed no where for anyone to hide in there unless they curled up under the desk or managed to fit in the chest in the corner.

As he ascended the stairs, of course he nearly ran right into a first year Ravenclaw girl who looked particularly upset. She looked surprised to see him, looking up at him with the wide eyes of a child before she stuck a finger out, pointing towards the far end of the school.

“The Headmaster and Professor Qui-Gon are looking for you,” She let him know with a head nod, “No one can enter Ravenclaw tower.”

***

The train hissed into the station and students piled out chatting amicably with one another. Despite the rather dangerous nature that the year had begun with, the holidays seemed to have lifted spirits well enough. Or perhaps, Anakin considered, it was once again being with your family.

Anakin felt a little out of place just standing in a sea of students trying to stand on his tippy toes to see over their heads. He managed to pick out Hevy in the crowd, and his heart panged. Rex was still rather angry with him, Anakin hadn’t sat with him on the train. He’d actually ended up stuck between Miraj Scintel and Asajj Ventress in a compartment full of Slytherins. It hadn’t been his favorite company to keep. Especially since none of them seemed particularly interested in the Christmas cartoons he was hoping to catch on TV.

He tripped and nearly fell into what seemed to be the eye of the storm. Students still pushed and shoved all around them, but all were avoiding this particular space.

“Oh Anakin,” He recognized the voice and sure enough when he looked up he was looking into the eyes of Obi-Wan’s mother. She was smiling down at him as if pleased he’d landed in her presence. Obi-Wan was standing a little behind her and although he was standing at attention his eyes seemed to hold a lecture that Anakin was grateful he couldn’t deliver at the moment, “How wonderful it is to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you again too, ma’am,” He nodded at her, but tried to look behind her for a hint of the woman he really wanted to see.

“Lost?” Obi-Wan’s mum looked concerned and even Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask him, but Anakin shook his head.

“Nope! I’m just looking for my mum,” He assured them, “She said she’d pick me up at the station, but I wouldn’t put it past that sleazebag Watto to make her late.”

“Late for picking up her own son though,” Obi-Wan’s mother tsked as she looked at him, “Perhaps we could accompany you home?”

“Mother-” Obi-Wan didn’t seem to agree, but a glance from his mother was enough to get him to stand down it seemed.

“No that’s ok,” Anakin shook his head, “She’ll be here, I just have to be patient,” He grinned, “I’m sure Obi-Wan knows that’s not my best skill, but as the Chosen One, I’m sure I can handle it.”

His mentor seemed to disapprove of his joke, but it made Mrs. Kenobi laugh so he guessed it wasn’t too bad, “If you’re sure. We could always take you back to our place.”

“No thanks,” Anakin had to admit, the offer was tempting. He was curious to where Obi-Wan lived especially since his family had quite a bit of money, but he was far too eager to get back to his own abode, “Thanks for the broomstick by the way, it flies great!” He’d sent a thank you note already, but his mum always said doing things in person looked better.

“Glad to hear it-” She was likely going to continue their conversation, but Anakin caught a glimpse of wispy brown hair.

“I think I see her!” He pointed over the crowd, “Got to go, bye!”

He dipped and dodged through the crowd again before finally reaching her.

“Mum!” But the women who turned had a rounder face and deep green eyes. Anakin nearly tripped over his feet, as to not run into her, “Oh.”

That certainly wasn’t his mother.

***

Qui-Gon was pondering.

A difficult feat as the raven door knocker was spewing riddles faster than anyone could answer them. Such noise made it hard to think at all. Headmaster Yoda was doing little to help reign in control, he simply answered riddles that had been asked nearly 5 minutes prior. It wasn’t getting them anywhere.

“Mace,” Qui-Gon heard the other man’s footsteps before he saw him. Gryffindor’s Head of House seemed just as confused as he was.

“What’s all this?” Mace questioned inspecting the brass knocker before raising an eyebrow at Qui-Gon.

“I was hoping you would know,” He answered with a sigh, “It was like this when I got here. Must have been some kind of spell.”

Mace frowned, “Not one I know. It would have to be fairly powerful to break such an artifact,” That much Qui-Gon had already known.

“Do away with the door, we could,” Yoda suggested, but Qui-Gon jumped between the Headmaster’s wand and the door.

“There must be another way,” Qui-Gon grimaced, he really didn’t want to have to find a fair replacement for his house. Such lines of thinking reminded him of the tunnels. There weren’t any leading to Ravenclaw house of course, but tunnels were not the only way for wizards to get around, “The fireplace!” He shouted suddenly enough to scare off a stray Hufflepuff from the area.

“Are our fireplaces within the Floo network?” Mace questioned looking towards the Headmaster who shook his head.

“Officially, they are not,” He put a small hand to his chin, “However locally, hmmmm.”

“My office is closest,” Qui-Gon recommended and hurried off with Mace and the Headmaster following behind.

***

Mace had to admit, this was a rather clever idea. Qui-Gon was consistently proving himself as both a Ravenclaw and the best choice for their Head of House. Still the man was notoriously messy and Mace nearly tripped over a stack of philosophy books piled just high enough to not be noticeable at first. It was a far cry from Mace’s rather organized and clean office. Despite these barriers, Qui-Gon never seemed to lose anything. In fact he pulled his pot of Floo powder out from under a pillow as if it had always been there. Mace quite doubted that was the case.

Qui-Gon was about to thrust his hand into the powder when Mace held out his hand to stop him.

“Wait,” Mace gestured for the man to pass him the jar which he did with a rather skeptical look, “We don’t know if we’re going to be trapped on the inside and the school certainly can’t be down 3 caretakers,” Both Qui-Gon and Yoda exchanged hesitant looks. Mace was glad that he had been with them, if he hadn’t the other two may have gotten themselves trapped within the common room for hours before someone would have noticed.

“I’ll go,” Qui-Gon suggested, “It is my house after all.”

“Admirable,” Mace nodded, but refused to hand back the jar to Qui-Gon, “I have more experience however,” Qui-Gon gave him a foul look, Mace paid him no mind, “I’ll go, if the girl is there I’ll find her.”

“Wait on the other side of the door, I shall,” Headmaster Yoda decided with a nod, “Meet Professor Windu when he is done searching I will.”

“So what? I’m just supposed to wait here?” Qui-Gon frowned at Mace’s nod of affirmation, “And what is the point in that?”

“You never know,” Mace frowned, “Opening up a Floo network, even within the school could make us vulnerable for attack, someone should monitor it,” He wasn’t really sure if it would or not, but he felt they couldn’t be too safe. They’d already found a fatal flaw when Skywalker had been able to previously use Dooku’s fireplace to attempt traversing to Hogsmeade.

“Alright fine,” Qui-Gon relented, stepping aside, “We’ll do it your way, but do be swift, Ms. Swan may not even be up there.”

“I’m not the type to doddle, Jinn,” Mace reminded him as he stepped into the fireplace.

“Ravenclaw Common Room.”

The world bended and stretched. Qui-Gon’s office was replaced with bricks and entryways of several different choices, but thankfully the common room was a relatively short trip. If there hadn’t been for such odd circumstances, this would be considered a rather lazy move even by wizarding standards.

He stepped out of the fireplace and the blue and silver of the common room came into focus past the green of the fire and he looked around for anything out of place or odd. He fingered his wand, not eager to draw it, lest a student would be at the other end, but he certainly didn’t want to leave himself unguarded from attack. It was the sort of thinking one didn’t unlearn even after leaving the aurors.

Nothing so much as swayed in the breeze however so he let himself relax just a touch. He wasn’t in Ravenclaw’s common room much, but he knew which book to look for on the shelf to reveal the girl’s dormitory. He’d check there first as it was more likely that she had simply run up to grab something and gotten locked inside.

The bookshelf creaked softly as it bowed to the side to admit him. There was no one on the stairs and no one made an appearance even as he tried stepping loudly enough to give away his presence.

“Hello?” He called, his students should easily recognize his voice, they heard it at least twice a week.

There was no response. It felt almost too silent and his fingers brushed against his wand once more. Well if no one was around, it wouldn’t hurt to draw it. Pointing his wand low in case he did encounter a rogue student, he pushed the door open to the 4th year girl’s dorm slowly.

At the far side of the room, facing away from him was Bultar Swan, but she didn’t make any movements at his entry.

“Ms. Swan,” Mace called, stepping carefully across the room. Still she didn’t move so he put a gentle hand on her shoulder before rapidly pulling away.

It was a cool sensation rather than a warm one that had him ripping his hand away from the lost girl. Now that he was close enough he could see an unnatural sheen across her skin. As he walked around her his heart seemed to freeze just like the expression of shock and terror engraved on the girl’s face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open like she was going to scream. Her hands were going for her wand, but she hadn’t made it in time. It seemed that neither had he.

***

The streets of London were rather busy as the sun lowered in the sky. It was likely rush hour and Anakin was just trying to get home. He’d let Artoo out to fly on his own, it was one less thing to carry and he already had his massive trunk he was dragging behind him.

He’d waited at the station until even the train had disappeared and he was starting to wish he’d taken the Kenobi’s up on their offer, even if Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed to like the idea. It would certainly beat carrying everything. He bet that a family like the Kenobi’s had a big broom or a lot of Floo powder. Or maybe they could have even apparated him there. He knew Obi-Wan was in a special class for it and he assumed nearly every witch or wizard got their license out of convenience.

If he hadn’t been in a fight with Rex he supposed the clones would have helped him out. They had lingered at the station for an awfully long time before finally departing. He thought he’d felt eyes on him, but every time he looked over they were busy wrestling with each other or talking too loudly. Anakin felt quite a lot of envy towards their antics. He missed Rex more than he’d admit.

At least he’d finally made it to his street. He could see the sign for Watto’s seedy pub and he would have made a run for it to show that greedy bastard where he could shove it the next time he made his mum work a shift when she had other, more important plans, but his luggage was holding him back. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the smell of stale booze and grease. It would have been pretty disgusting if it wasn’t a little nostalgic. As much as he despised the likes of Watto and the way his mum had to break her back just to afford the rent for their apartment, it was still home.

“Oh if it isn’t little Ani!” Watto crowed nearly knocking over one of his waitresses, “Tell your mum rent’s due.”

“When is it not due,” Anakin muttered under his breath before speaking loud enough for the owner to hear him over the din of patrons, “Have you seen her? She was supposed to come pick me up,” He made sure to say it in an accusatory tone even if such things were lost on the man.

“Eh, not today, grab the spare and go on up,” He shrugged, “Maybe she forgot.”

“Not likely,” Anakin whispered as he pushed past him. It was much more likely that she’d fallen asleep, Watto never had her working consistent hours and often she worked more than she was home. It wouldn’t be completely out of the question for her to have slept through an alarm. Still it was the first time she hadn’t shown up for him and he did feel a twinge of sadness at the thought.

Anakin snatched the spare key to their apartment off the pegboard in Watto’s smelly office before dragging his suitcase up the stairs. He had to use two hands since he couldn’t use magic and had no one else to help him. He was certain that if he had asked the owner he would have just gotten laughed at. He didn’t want his stupid help anyways.

He knocked on the door first, “Hello? Mum? It’s me! Anakin!” When there wasn’t any response, Anakin fumbled with the key until he felt the tumblers in the lock click. He pushed the door open and hesitated.

The air felt… stale.

Not eager to step inside, he called out again.

“Mum! You forgot to come to the train station! It’s okay though, I’m not mad!”

There was no response.

Anakin felt his throat tighten and his heart pick up. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, he wasn’t really supposed to use magic except for studying, but he doubted such rules would really stop him.

He took a deep breath before stepping inside. The door creaked shut behind him.

The first thing he noticed was their dining room chairs strewn across the floor. That was pretty weird because Anakin always got in trouble for not pushing them in when he was done. He rationalized that sometimes his mother got to do things he wasn’t allowed too, maybe she didn’t always have to replace the chairs. He stepped into the kitchen, nothing else seemed out of place, but when he opened the fridge he nearly vomited at the smell.

Sour milk.

His mother was always really good at getting fresh groceries, but maybe she’d just forgotten, it had happened once before.

“Mum! The milk’s gone bad!” He called again and strained his ears for an answer.

Silence.

He swallowed past a lump steadily growing in his throat. Was this some sort of joke? He hoped not, because it really wasn’t very funny.

There was nothing amiss in the living room, but also, no sign of his mum. He didn’t bother checking in his own room, as she was rarely in there. She always said she wasn’t very interested in his comics, but she was a good mum and listened to him talk about them anyways. He felt his eyes water, it must be a little dusty.

He knocked on his mother’s bedroom door, certainly not wanting to enter without notifying her; she always said it was always good to be polite. With no answer though he had no choice but to push the door open.

Feathers.

There were feathers everywhere. It was like the pillows had exploded and it coated the room. He stepped on inside and nearly tripped over a fallen book. That book only fell off the shelf when he opened the door too quickly. His mother knew that and he knew that, so why had it fallen?

Unless someone else was there. Had been there.

“If someone’s in here! Come out!” He managed to shout, clutching his wand like a lifeline and trying to think of a few dueling spells Professor Fisto had drilled into them. He supposed a good stupify would work. He’d have to explain it to the school, but it would save him and his mother.

Not so much as a feather moved and Anakin tried to calm his racing heart enough that he could hear something beyond the rushing of blood through his ears. He picked his way across the floor. What if his mother was here, but hurt? He certainly didn’t want to see that, but if she was, he would have to help her. Maybe he should have tried to learn some healing spells. He’d ask Madame Nema after this all got sorted out.

He peaked quickly over the side of her bed and was almost relieved when he saw nothing. He checked under the bed in case anyone was hiding under there, but saw nothing, but dust and feathers.

He walked over to check the bathroom and something crunched underfoot. Kneeling down he brushed aside a feather and gasped. A shattered frame, glass scattered across the floor. It was a picture of Anakin, standing proudly in his wizard’s robes. The picture didn’t move, but Anakin sure did- running out the door of his Mum’s bedroom and back into the living room.

She wasn’t here. There was no sign of her and the house didn’t look very lived in. All but the chairs and the bedroom with all the feathers. He felt like he was being watched and kept looking over his shoulder as he nearly shattered another picture frame reaching for the pot holding their small emergency Floo powder. He wanted to leave, but what if his mum did come home? She could walk in at any minute and they could be scared together about the possible house burglary. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to be here alone.

Another thought came to him, he could call using the fireplace. Qui-Gon had taught him and he knew the offices at the castle were connected to the network. He just had to hope the Professor was in his office.

“Coniunctionem,” Anakin’s voice shook as he said the spell, sprinkling the powder into the fireplace. Flames sprung up where there hadn’t been any and Anakin blurted out, “Professor Qui-Gon Jinn's Office!” Before shoving his head into the fireplace.

Anakin nearly jumped when he saw Qui-Gon immediately, already staring into the fire in surprise.

“Anakin!” Words sounded weird through the fire, the tones of Qui-Gon’s voice being translated into crackles and pops of the fire.

“Qui-Gon!” He practically cried, “I need help!” He was the Chosen One, he’d been reminding himself of that all year and he shouldn’t need help. Here, however, he felt helpless, scared, and alone.

And Professor Fisto had just said that everyone needed help sometimes.

“What’s wrong?” The lecture likely on the tip of the Professor’s tongue disappeared instantly and concern took its place.

“It’s my mum! She’s-” He suddenly felt like he couldn’t speak, tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to pour over. He tried to hold them back not wanting to accidentally extinguish the fire, but it was hard. He hadn’t really even acknowledged the truth in the situation and trying to say it out loud felt horrible, “She’s-” He couldn’t say it, even needing Qui-Gon’s help, it was all too sudden.

“Hang on I’ll be right there!” Qui-Gon was already ripping the lid off the jar that held his own Floo powder.

“Go you must,” Anakin hadn’t even noticed Headmaster Yoda, who was standing just in the doorway, “Handle everything else, we will,” Anakin didn’t really care whether or not he’d interrupted something important.

Hogwarts could burn to the ground for all he cared. His mother was missing and that was the only thing he cared about.

***

Qui-Gon held onto the boy’s shoulder as he sobbed uncontrollably while the police, both magical and muggle swarmed the apartment. He’d called the auror’s first of course, but he couldn’t deny that Shmi’s disappearance could be because of muggle means.

The owner of the dirty pub had shrugged and said Shmi hadn’t shown up for her shifts for awhile, but it hadn’t yet caused him financial trouble so he hadn’t worried about it. Anakin had said some less than kind things to the man and Qui-Gon made a note to talk to him about it later, but he supposed it was hard to fault a twelve year old when his whole world had just gotten uprooted.

“Why,” The word was spoken so softly Qui-Gon thought for a moment he may have imagined it.

“Pardon?” He leaned down to be able to hear better.

“Why’d they take her away?” He managed to speak louder, though his voice wobbled and the threat of more tears was not far off, “She never did anything wrong, why her?”

Qui-Gon let out a long breath, that was not an easy question to answer. Not like such questions about where the boy would live. He would stay with Qui-Gon of course. And as for what they should do next, it was a waiting game unfortunately.

It was certainly not the time to mention his earlier suspicions. However, Qui-Gon never would have guessed that this ominous danger would befall Shmi, who was practically disconnected to the wizarding world in total.

“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon admitted, he always found it was best not to lie, not at a time like this, “Sometimes bad things happen to good people-”

“It’s not FAIR!” Anakin stomped his foot on the ground.

“Life isn’t always as fair as it should be,” Qui-Gon knelt down so he could be at eye level with the boy.

“I want her,” He sniffed, tears already falling once more, “I want my mum.”

“I know, I know,” Qui-Gon said solemnly, “But I’ll promise you this,” Anakin looked up through the droplets on his lashes to meet Qui-Gon’s steady stare, “I’ll do everything I can to help find her, ok?” It was a weighty promise, but one that Qui-Gon was willing to make. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Shmi and he certainly wanted her found for Anakin’s sake.

Anakin managed to give him a nod even as he cried harder at the thought and Qui-Gon pulled him into a hug so he could have a shoulder to cry on, quite literally. No longer looking into the face of a child he felt his face fall into a dejected frown. What was the point of all this? Was it the prophecy? Was it simply an act of villainy? All concerns for his own safety at the hands of the missing necklace went out the window. Anakin’s safety was really his only concern. He had the Chosen One, a young boy, in his care and he would do everything necessary to keep him safe.

***

Despite the bustling holiday cheer that warmed the walls and everything between at Professor Qui-Gon Jinn’s humble abode, Obi-Wan found himself occupying the kitchen more often than not. He knew from experience and constant nagging from his mother that hosting was a complicated and exhausting duty and grew up shouldering part of that burden in order to keep up critical appearances. Of course, the parties his family hosted were nothing like this.

It was more than just the homemade decorations and the physical vibrancy of the room. Yes, the many streams of garland and tapestry were lovely. The lighting was soft, but colorful as it had been donned with twinkling Christmas lights and scented candles that were transfixed to never burn out. Stockings lined the mantle of the fireplace, which was situated right beside a beautiful Christmas tree.

Even from here, he admired Anakin’s work on the tree. He wondered if it was how his mother had done it every year. Judging by how methodical the whole process had been, he would assume so.

It all felt like home in a way his house never did.

The smiles, for one thing, never met their eyes at his parents’ famous shin-digs and there certainly weren’t quite as many children. The only other person his age was usually Asajj Ventress, who was far from his first choice in company. Buoyant holiday music didn’t play from an enchanted piano nor were the eating arrangements as casual as simply helping yourself. His house was usually filled with an eerie classical music that his mother worshipped and had nothing short of a five course meal consisting of exotic foods he’d never heard of.

He couldn’t cook to save his life, but knew many efficient spells at assisting the task. Qui-Gon had it partially covered, of course, because all of the appliances were working at full and seamless speed without an error along the way. Obi-Wan would hastily run stuff out, ensure that everyone was still having a grand time, and then disappear again to continue helping.

It was important for this Christmas to go well. Anakin had just lost his mother and was rightfully very maudlin as of late. Qui-Gon had taken him in and sought to give him a good home, which was wonderful. It was truly fantastic. Obi-Wan, himself, hadn’t seen much of his former mentor at all this term, let alone this evening, but it was more than understandable. He was included just enough to be invited early for his annual Christmas party to help setup.

It was a good idea for Qui-Gon to throw together the last minute-affair and wise all the same to be able to skirt around Headmaster Yoda’s rules in such a way. It didn’t seem most of the professors minded much or maybe they also terribly needed a distraction from current events, because many were in attendance. Of course, the stiffer ones, like Professor Windu, had opted to skip.

It was also a decent distraction from how horribly his Winter Holiday had been going, not that it was anything new. He wasn’t much for lying and knew the repercussions of getting caught, but he’d told his parents he was meeting with Ventress for the evening. They were absolutely ecstatic to hear that and sent him on his way with flowers and all. Technically, Ventress was at the party, so any scrutiny could simply be met with that.

He’d awkwardly given the flowers to Anakin instead, who’d rightfully responded with a weird look.

His parents had been especially cross with him lately when they discovered he was taking the advanced class of Defense Against the Dark Arts against their wishes. They’d nearly elected to lock him in his room for the remainder of break when it came out. Luckily, he was able to save some face by mentioning seeing Ventress at some point.

His family was also surprisingly concerned over Anakin’s home situation as of now. They expressed great distaste for his mother being so cavalier in her choice of guardian for him. Apparently, Obi-Wan’s mother had gone to school with Shmi and felt she was gullible to fall for a silver-tongued cad in the muggle world. They claimed she should have been more careful with the boy, since he was precious beyond measurable worth. It was interesting that Obi-Wan’s alignment with Anakin, which was initially viewed as a foolish errand, was now being heralded by his parents and grandparents.

He released a heavy sigh and picked up another plate.

As he exited the kitchen to bring out another serving of deviled eggs, he took in the sight of the party. Joy and laughter filled the air much to Obi-Wan’s relief. Even Anakin seemed as though he was having a good time. He’d found a good friend in Padmé Amidala and knew it was wise of Qui-Gon to see that she was invited.

The Fett’s were all rough-housing in the living room, displaying some wrestling moves they’d recently learned over break. It was their newest and most recent obsession. He did note that Rex kept glancing towards Anakin every now and then. While Anakin certainly had larger issues at hand, it was apparent that the boys, who no longer seemed to be outwardly fighting, were still not quite on the same level that they once were.

Anakin was practicing catching gumdrops in his mouth, which was likely an ill-advised attempt to impress Padmé in some way. She seemed partially invested and partially concerned he would choke, which was the right amount of attention for the boy.

Professor Plo Koon slow-danced with an inebriated Professor Shaak Ti, who was being photographed by Professor Yaddle, likely for a later laugh or a reminder of the events of the evening. Professor Depa Billaba was chatting with Caleb Dume, but he seemed to be distracted by the gentle snowfall from outside.

All was well.

In his search, he caught Satine’s passing stare. She was currently perched on the couch with a mug of warm butterbeer in her hands and was chatting with Bail Organa and Fenn Rau. Her hair was down in flowing waves that cascaded down to her shoulders. She was trying to grow out her bangs and had them clipped back with a little green barrette that matched the long sleeve dress she wore. Her eyes were warm with mirth and inviting for him to come over. Despite the bubble that seemed to grow in his chest, threatening to pop, his feet remained still. He simply nodded at her with what he hoped was a friendly smile and turned to go back to work.

He was just about to wonder where Qui-Gon had disappeared off to when a large hand was splayed firmly on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Qui-Gon’s deep voice asked.

He was startled, even if he had no real reason to be. It wasn’t as though he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar or anything.

“I’m setting out the food.”

“You’ve been doing that all night.” He said. “You’re working like a servant except nobody asked you to do so.”

“You know how important it is that this party goes well, Professor.” Obi-Wan said and nodded over to Anakin.

“As a matter of fact, I do, actually. I’d say he’s having a nice time too.” Qui-Gon said sagely. “Doesn’t explain why you would think spending your entire night in the kitchen is going to improve his spirits.”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue from remarking how this was the first real conversation they’d had in weeks and that somehow it was layered in criticism. Obi-Wan was used to appraisal and scathing speeches of failure and the tightening noose of expectation, but not from his former mentor.

“Like you said, he’s enjoying himself. That’s what matters.” He said shortly.

“I’d like you to enjoy yourself too every now and then, you know.” Qui-Gon leaned against the counter, but Obi-Wan still had to crane his head to look the larger man in the eyes. “So, what is it you’re actually avoiding?”

Obi-Wan straightened. “I’m not avoiding anything! I’m just-”

“-Distracting yourself from what’s bothering you. I know it when I see it, Obi-Wan. You’ve been one of my pupils for six years now and despite how you may try, even you have tells.” He smirked, “Every time you come out of the kitchen, you do a perimeter scan of the room. Some may take it as a neurotic need for everyone to be safe and accounted for, but I know better.”

“You don’t exactly become Head of Ravenclaw House without knowing better.” Obi-Wan said, though his mind briefly sifted back to the previous Head of Ravenclaw and debated that statement.

“Good, so hear me when I say that you need to live your life.”

He furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve watched you leap through hoop after hoop to please everyone, Obi-Wan and it simply cannot be done. You’re even doing it tonight! The sooner you make your peace with that, the happier you’ll be.”

Obi-Wan inspected the long-haired professor to see if he’d perhaps engaged in too much eggnog this evening.

“I know I can’t please everyone.” He said sharply but maintained his tone so as not to disturb the other guests. “I’ve learned that the hard way, thank you.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes softened. “I never meant to insinuate that it was easy. I know I’ve been busy with Anakin recently and it would be normal for you to feel neglected-”

“-I don’t.” Obi-Wan lied and perhaps the swiftness of his response made that more obvious. He wondered if it really counted as a lie if he didn’t want it to be true. He felt selfish and guilty for feeling the inklings of that. Anakin’s mother was missing! He had no reason to feel like he was the one going through the hard time right now simply because he wasn’t receiving as much attention as before. What bothered him more, was that he somehow made this transparent enough to be seen. He desperately hoped Anakin didn’t notice.

Qui-Gon nodded. “Look at Hondo.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Humor me, please.” He sighed and Obi-Wan obeyed.

Hondo Ohnaka was planted firmly beneath the mistletoe as he had been all night. He called over to just about every living and breathing body at the party to come over and share “the Christmas cheer” with him. Even his bright and sparkly sweater implored people to “meet him at the naughty list”, which blended in with the many counts of jewelry that always draped around his neck and wrists. Some of it, Obi-Wan had to admit, looked quite expensive.

As far as Obi-Wan had seen, Hondo hadn’t had any takers. He could try to have more tact in his approach. Simply going for every single person at the party just didn’t feel in line with the spirit of the holiday. He kept glancing around, looking quite intently at him and Qui-Gon for a long moment before turning rather suddenly to face the other way.  

“Hey, baby! I’ve got something sweet for you to taste… And some cookies!” He laughed as he held up a plate of Christmas cookies to Stass Allie as she passed by without giving him any thought.

“I think he needs to call it quits.” Obi-Wan mused.

“Hondo is eccentric and uninhibited… He needs to brush up on his manners and probably shower a bit more… Also, I’m fairly certain he was the one who stole Headmaster Yoda’s quill set.”

“What’s your point?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Hondo lives his life shamelessly. He is who he is. When he sees something he wants, he does everything in his power to make it happen. His execution probably needs a little refinement, but the point is, he takes chances and he’s happier for it.”

“Yeah and he’s doing so well tonight.”

“Maybe not.” Qui-Gon said. “But you can’t win the games you refuse to play.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes seemed to naturally return to Satine, who was now quite heatedly making some point with Tarkin and was being backed by Fenn Rau on some injustice. He doubted she needed the help by how she was reaming into Tarkin. However, Rau seemed eager to assist, much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin.

Even with the knowledge that Satine supposedly wasn’t interested, it still bugged him to some end.

He cleared his throat and turned back to his amused Professor. “That’s why I’m taking DADA this year again. I want to be an auror.”

“And you’ll make a mighty fine one. You came to that conclusion all on your own, eh?”

He hadn’t and they both knew it. There was no use denying it.

“I… Had some help.” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon smiled and looked out at the party. “So, what are you going to do about that?”

“I’m going to be an auror.” He said with renewed strength.

He tapped the watch on Obi-Wan’s wrist, “I’m talking about tonight.”

He felt his cheeks go red and was irritated when Qui-Gon tilted back his head and laughed so loud that the entire room was drawn to their conversation Eventually, when it subsided, they all turned back to their respective conversations.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! We’re friends!” He hissed.

“She’s not going to wait around forever, my young apprentice. Even if she isn’t sure she’s waiting. Take it from an old fool who knows what it’s like to miss out.”

And with that, he left a very bashful and embarrassed Obi-Wan to his own thoughts again. Hondo tried to call Obi-Wan over, but it was easy to ignore as he was trying desperately to sink into the floor and away from everyone else. He couldn’t believe Qui-Gon thought his friendship with Satine was the equivalent of Hondo trying to kiss practically every person in the room.

They were friends. That was all. He didn’t understand why that had to make their relationship less meaningful.

So, occasionally he felt a little light-headed when she touched his arm or laughed at his jokes. Maybe his gaze lingered on her when she stretched or crinkled her brow in contemplation while they studied together. Sometimes, his hands grew sweaty if hers accidentally brushed against his while they walked. She always smelled wonderful, but he’d only noticed because they were always together!

And just because they were always sitting together or took the same classes and always worked together on projects, did not mean there was anything else going on.

Yes, he trusted her with his life and would surely give his for her in a heartbeat. He might have been slightly miffed whenever Fenn Rau or Tarkin or any of the other boys commented that she was beautiful. She was beautiful, but anyone with eyes could objectively make that conclusion.

And that she was charming and self-reliant. She was utterly brilliant with a wit that crushed his into dust. She was above all else caring to the extent of wishing no harm even to her enemies and wanted peace before anything. She was stubborn and defiant, but also incredibly altruistic and fair. Her humor was the exact same as his and was never afraid to go for the jugular.

Of course he cared for her and noticed how she ran her hands through her hair when she was nervous or how she bit her bottom lip when she was confused. It wasn’t like he fixated on such things… All the time.

He’d be a liar to say there wasn’t tension, but a great deal of that had to do with how often they disagreed! He was getting riled up just thinking of how different his conversation would have been with Qui-Gon if Satine had been there with her disapproval of his family’s ways.

Yet he missed her when she wasn’t around. Her honesty was so rooted in a deep sense of caring that he couldn’t entirely fault her for it. She would never steer him wrong and wanted what was best for him. He knew that in his bones even when they wanted to pounce on each other.

She knew him through and through and cared for him even if he came from a family that would despise her if they knew just how important she was to Obi-Wan.

And, if he was honest, he looked for her at every Quidditch match, every meeting, every get-together, because…

She was his best friend!

Just that.

***

Satine blew softly to ease the steam that permeated from the mug in her hands. She’d unexpectedly traded her butterbeer for hot chocolate when Fenn Rau slid the mug in her hands after she mentioned she wasn’t a big butterbeer fan. The little gingerbread man shaped marshmallows that floated on the surface were enchanted to dance until they melted away into frothy foam.

“You do have an eye for detail.” She commented as she watched one of them disappear into nothing. To Satine’s chagrin, when she looked back up to Fenn, he was standing much closer than he had before. He must have been participating in the ugly sweater contest, because the little cotton balls that were supposed to be snowballs on his blue and red sweater were atrocious.

It had become impossible to ignore the cold truth that was Fenn Rau’s sudden romantic interest in her. In the beginning, she thought he was just looking for a new friend or someone to show him around as a prefect, but then he started to appear everywhere and seemingly intent on impressing her in every way possible. She could have sworn he had recently gotten more competitive with Obi-Wan, which just felt plain silly at the core.

Especially since he basically tried to pawn Satine off to Rau- a reality that she tried not to groan at- the moment he had the opportunity to do so.

She didn’t love having Aayla and Stass’s incessant “I told you so” voices ringing in her ears on repeat, but pretending to be ignorant now was doing far more harm than good. For instance, she didn’t want Rau to be under the impression that she was leading him on. That was something Satine did not want to do.

“I notice everything,” Fenn said with a smile and took another step closer. Soon, if he kept moving as he was, that wouldn’t be possible anymore, and Satine really didn’t want to consider what possibilities lurked after that.

Clearly, not everything.

“Is that so?” She asked innocently, though she had a lurking suspicion that she wasn’t going to be too fond of where this conversation was going.

“Yes,” He nodded and shifted in his stance, clearly trying to keep his cool and appear taller than he was, “Like… How you always carry your books in the order of when you have class or how you aren’t fond of your food touching or how you never wear your hair the same way two days in a row.”

That last one sounded made up to Satine, if only because it was unintentional, but it seemed Fenn couldn’t be stopped even though she desperately wanted him to. In her opinion, this wasn’t the time for this sort of confession. Cody was glancing at her from the piano as though silently asking her if she needed help. Aayla and Stass, who were giggling amongst themselves by the staircase, clearly could also tell what was going on.

“Or how you absolutely despise morning rounds,” Fenn kept going, “Or… Or how there’s no one presently standing under the mistletoe and I couldn’t help but notice that you can’t seem to stop glancing in that direction.”

The last bit came out frantically, like he’d been so nervous that he forgot how to properly speak and breathe at the same time. Because of this, it took a beat for Satine to comprehend what he was insinuating, until it finally felt like a bubble popped between them.

Well, there was no more denying it after that jumbled suggestion.

“Oh! Um, with you?” She glanced back in the direction towards the mistletoe and it seemed Hondo had taken a bathroom break, because it was presently a vacant spot. Had Rau known her like he believed he did, he would have realized that she wasn’t deviating towards the mistletoe, but the array of dishes that lay beyond it and more importantly, who set out those dishes at a dizzying pace and seemed to refuse engaging with the masses.  

She’d taken too long to answer, because quickly, Fenn shook his head aggressively, “Not that you have to go under there with me… I mean, it would be nice, but you don’t have to. I haven’t been- It’s not like I’ve been thinking about it all night. It just came to me, as an idea, maybe. If you wanted- I’ve been told I’m a decent snogger. Not that I’ve snogged a lot of girls. Or boys! I’ve never actually snogged a boy, but if I had, I’m sure they would say I’m-”

“-No, no, I’m sure you are decent!” Satine waved her hands out in front of her as though trying to physically stop him from the painful stilted tangent he was trying to constantly start and stop, “But it wouldn’t be right as I would never want to give you the wrong impression.”

“And what would that be?”

Did all boys require such deliberate specifications? Or just the ones in her life?

She sighed, “You’re brilliant, you really are, and I’m sure there’s a girl out there for you, but unfortunately, I don’t believe she’s me.”

Smooth, clean, and to the point. For someone who had spent the better part of this term denying that Rau had these sorts of feelings for her, she sure was relieved to have cleared the air. It was what was best for the both of them.

He blinked, “Is it someone else?”

“I’m sure.” She said kindly, “Frankly, there are lots of girls who-”

“-No, I mean, do you fancy someone else?” He corrected.

“Well,” She had to tamper down the indignant side of her that wanted to explain that there didn’t need to be anyone else for her not to return his affections, but she was momentarily distracted by Obi-Wan walking from the kitchen with far too many plates balanced in his hands. They wobbled back and forth in tandem with how he moved before meeting an unseemly and cacophonous end as they shattered against the hardwood floor.

Fenn, like everyone else, turned towards the commotion, but looked back at her with a sort of sad understanding that she hadn’t noticed at first, seeing as she was a bit caught up in how quickly Obi-Wan had whipped out his wand and gathered all the missing pieces and reassembled the plates.

“I see,” He cleared his throat and she gave him a curious look after Obi-Wan disappeared into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry?” She frowned.

“It’s alright,” He said, “I won’t stand in the way.”

“What are you-”

“-I think it’s a little less insulting to not further deny it.” He said tartly, but not completely absent of compassion, “He’s a lucky bloke, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

Satine had to swallow the rising bitterness that was definitely her pride for being seen so thoroughly, “Truly an eye for detail.”

He quirked a small smile at that, “I don’t know if it takes an eagle eye to notice that.”

“Still,” She shrugged weakly, “I’m sorry.”

He raised a hand, “You’ve nothing to apologize for. Trust me when I say I hope it works out for you two. Though if you ever change your mind…”

“You’ll be someone’s first choice someday, Fenn.” She gave his hand a squeeze, “I’m sure of it.”

Despite it not working out how Fenn Rau thought, Satine couldn’t help but internally thank him for what transpired. She learned that maybe, she needed to take more risks.

***

One thing about being a wizard was that it wasn’t completely necessary to learn musical instruments, much to Anakin’s amusement. Some people still did, as Qui-Gon demonstrated for everyone, but others just merely enchanted the piano to play whatever they pleased.

His mum would quite enjoy that. She always loved classical Christmas music.

As another wave of sadness rose through his senses and nearly gave way of seeping out of every pore, he stamped it down in determination not to cry in front of everyone at the party. It was bad enough that it felt like every person that came up to him was trying to perform some sort of circus act to distract him, but he didn’t want to deal with the explanation.

It was a party and while he felt like the center of it, it was designed to be fun for everyone. It wouldn’t bring his mum back to him, but the thought had to count for something. Padmé had been sweet enough to check on him a good bit, especially when she could have been spending time with her friends or with Satine, who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but with Fenn Rau.

Anakin might have been more excited about it a mere two weeks ago, but despite the beautiful colors, everything seemed to be painted in gray.

Even Hondo seemed to lack some of his luster when he returned from the loo, wearing a stern sort of melancholy that reminded Anakin of Watto when he suffered severe indigestion after an awful meal. Anakin had at least been expecting him to try and pawn off some more merchandise opportunities on him, but it seemed even he got the holiday blues every now and then.

“Not making enough sales this year?” Anakin couldn’t help but ask, because really, if anyone had the right to be upset this Christmas, it was him.

Hondo, as if realizing he was still at the party at all, shook his head, “Oh, er- never! Hondo knows how to push his product beyond anything. I assure you, you will see that 15% very soon and it will be chunky!”

Anakin narrowed his eyes, “My mum just went missing and you’re trying to slate me 5% of my profits?”

It wasn’t about the money, but it was worth mentioning.

Hondo’s big brown eyes widened beneath his goggles, which were beyond unnecessary in their current setting, even if it did snow an ample amount the night before. “Did I say 15%? I meant 20%! Silly me! I forgot to mention your holiday bonus.”

“It’s not like I’ll be able to spend that money on anyone.” He sighed and crossed his arms, “I was going to get my mum a new history book so she could catch up on everything she missed in the wizarding world. Word on the street is I’m actually in it.”

“I’m sure you are! What were they paying you?” Hondo asked and he was seeming a bit more like himself by the moment.

“Not everything is about galleons, you know.” Anakin said pointedly.

“That is what the rich people want you to think, Skywalker.” Hondo showcased the array of shiny necklaces that strung around his neck and jangled the bracelets on either wrist, “Do you know what makes these priceless?”

Anakin frowned, “They’re pretty ugly, which I suppose rich people tend to think gives it charm.”

“Exactly,” He smacked him on the back, “But I was going to say that they’re all stolen. Surely, you know that a pirate’s stolen treasure gives it a great deal more oomf. Nobody can resist that sort of quest. Stolen goods are absolutely the most valuable trinkets on the market.”

“That’s what my mother essentially is to her kidnapper.”

“Then you need to steal her back.” Hondo winked.

Anakin stood taller at that and looked over to Qui-Gon as Hondo did the same, seeming to have the same thought in his eyes (though Hondo might have been planning on lifting some of the expensive china that Obi-Wan had just dropped everywhere).

He was going to get her back. No matter what it took.

***

“You need to talk to him.” Cody said as he crossed his arms and looked at a rather shy and sullen Rex.

“I’m not sure how.” He said quietly, “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around all of this and I can’t figure out what would even be the proper thing to say.”

“Sometimes, it’s not saying anything at all.” Cody said.

“Was that supposed to be deep?” Fives complained, “You’re not exactly a philosopher, I’m sorry to say.”

“Yeah, don’t quit your day job.” Echo shook his head, “Just tell him you’re there for him, Rexy.”

“But I haven’t been.” Rex said.

“Yeah, and no one else is right now either.” Cody referred to Anakin’s “friends” who had been spending the whole term surrounding him like the leeches that they were. Now that the kid was dangerous to be around again, they weren’t nearly as keen on spending one-on-one time with him anymore. Ferus, Jax, and Tru all had their backs pointedly turned to the boy by the concessions table, literally boxing him out.

“I know.” Rex frowned, “I said some pretty awful things. And so did he.”

“And are you still mad at him?” Fives asked.

“No! I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to make him feel any worse than he likely already does.” Rex said, “I just want him to feel better.”

“I understand.” Cody said with a firm nod, “Remember the winter that mum left? What we did to get all of our aggression and sadness out in a good, healthy way that also exhausted us into the best sleeps we ever had?”

“Don’t say Quidditch right now, Cody.” Echo groaned.

“Shut it, I’m talking about-”

“-SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Rex shouted.

***

As everyone else tugged on their coats and jumpers to protect themselves from the blistering cold and to better support themselves in the brawl that would surely ensue on Qui-Gon’s vast snow-covered lawn, Hondo lingered behind, nodding at a passing Ventress before looking towards the dining room, where Qui-Gon Jinn sat.

Alone in the shadows, this command shall ring,

An undeniable voice will repeatedly sing.

With this necklace you will slay,

The protector who lies in the way.

Unless completed, the task will burn,

Or removed for another person’s turn.

It should have frightened him that it felt like a swan song, but it danced through his ears with the allure of a temptress guiding him under the sheets, swimming in them, bathing in golden glory. His mind’s eye was eclipsed and he knew no other than the clarity that was brought before him without a moment’s notice.

A smile stretched across his face as he envisioned succeeding in destroying his prey, in pleasing his master. Doing so would rid these chains from around his neck, would give him freedom. He would be a hero of the new age and paid handsomely.

The witch’s voice whispered seductively in his ear.

“Now’s the time… Do it.”

He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more or before this moment, except snuffing the light out of the putrid Muggle Studies professor. It would not bring about freedom to his people, but it would be a start. He had waited so long, missed so many opportunities. Every time it felt he nearly had his hands around the large professor’s neck, the spell was gone.

But not tonight.

Tonight he would-

He blinked awake when Kit Fisto emerged through the back door with a large cake in his hands.

“I don’t suppose you could show me a thing or two about muggle weapons, Qui-Gon? I was always curious if there were some properties that could resist magic.” The charming DADA professor grinned.

Hondo rubbed his eyes. He really didn’t know what was going on with him lately. It was as though he was blacking out while standing on his own two feet. Afterwards, he felt as though he was locked inside a dark room without any light. Or worse, a piggy bank without any galleons.

Qui-Gon smiled at him from his place at the kitchen table. “Everything alright, Hondo?”

He stammered, “Uh, yes! My apologies, just tired is all.”

Or so he hoped.

***

Anakin thought that regular snowball fights were fun, but with magic, anything was possible. The Fett’s had constructed a catapult of sorts, clearly experienced in their endeavors of war, and developed an entire war-based strategy on snuffing out the enemy. Anakin was surprised when Cody had dragged him over to their base, seeing as he’d been such a jerk to Rex. However, he was glad for it, because Ferus and Jax made it incredibly clear by their sudden shunning of him that he was not to be a part of their squad.

He would be more peeved by their sudden change in tune if he already didn’t have larger worries at hand. He almost didn’t agree to playing in the snow right now, but Cody had been so insistent that he couldn’t deny, which was a point that Obi-Wan had made when even he took a break from playing maid and pulled on his winter coat and gloves. Anakin knew at that point that there was no going back.

The fluffy snow that pillowed across the rolling landscape of Qui-Gon’s homestead was something found in Christmas cards, topped off with the soft beacon of light that the rainbow strings of lights around his house offered. Snowflakes still trickled around them, albeit at a slower and more manageable pace, decorating their hair and hats with a sparkling white texture.

The cold air was rejuvenating as it was sobering and Anakin felt for the first time all week like it was possible to romanticize anything ever again.

Well, until a ball of snow hit him right in the face.

“Skywalker, you can’t just leave yourself exposed like that!” Cody hollered at him.

“Yeah, you’re wide open to the enemy!” Fives added.

Anakin shook his head, blond bangs now damp with ice, and crouched down beside the boys as they planned their onslaught. “Who threw it?”

“That coward, Olin.” Rex, who’d materialized beside him, pounded and shaped an ice ball in his hands and extended it out to Anakin. Anakin looked at him curiously. Why would Rex want to help him get even with the people that Anakin had quite literally ditched him for all term? Maybe he hadn’t meant to, but that was certainly how it played out.

“Rex, I’m-” He began, but Rex more insistently put the snowball in Anakin’s hand.

“-Don’t mention it, mate.” He said with a coy smile, “Let’s go kick some arse.”

Anakin swallowed the ball of emotion that once again rose in his throat- an easy thing to do when Cody shouted “CHARGE” and they all went sprinting forward. He and Rex remained back-to-back, through it all, never once abandoning the other.

He knew for sure now what made for a true friend.

***

Obi-Wan managed to force himself into the festivities, despite Qui-Gon’s words biting at him. They’d all engaged in a big snowball fight in the backyard, spearheaded by Cody and Anakin. It ended up being a competition divided by houses, but Satine still managed to get Obi-Wan in the face with a ball of ice.

She’d claimed it was an accident, but laughed when he retaliated in kind.

Hondo continued his excursions under the mistletoe with consistently negative results. It was for the best, in a way, because none of the couples felt the desire to show off and put themselves under the mistletoe if Hondo was there.

Eventually, like all good times, the party had to end and he found himself feeling a little lighter afterwards. His parents didn’t expect him back until morning, which meant he had at least the remainder of the evening to retain levity before it was back to studies and silence.

Anakin had tuckered himself out and fell asleep in front of the fireplace not too long after everyone began to depart. The Fett’s offered to stick around and help, but Qui-Gon dismissed them as Obi-Wan and Satine already had a good handle on most of it.

He picked the unconscious Anakin off the floor like he was a bag of grapes and smiled at Obi-Wan and Satine.

“Thank you two for sticking around and helping.” He said in a hushed tone.

“Of course. ‘Can’t let Ben get all the credit.” She smirked, but her eyes were bright and merry. Obi-Wan realized how close they’d been standing and carefully leaned back to grab another dirty dish to put in the sink.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to put this one to bed. He’s had a long day.”

More like a long year, but neither teenager commented on it.

After he ascended up the stairs, Satine sighed, “He sure knows how to throw a good time, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said lightly. “He does.”

“I noticed you were gone for most of it.” She said carefully.

“Qui-Gon did too.” He muttered.

“Is everything alright?” She knew it wasn’t, of course, but he guessed she was asking to see if anything else had managed to go wrong in the past 24 hours. “You haven’t written all break.”

“My parents found out that I’m pursuing DADA this year. I think they’ve connected the dots about my hopes of becoming an auror.”

She frowned. “You hadn’t told them.”

He shook his head and turned away, busying himself with washing a plate. He knew the spell for that but preferred to have something to do with his hands. Besides, he already knew the look that was blooming on her face without seeing it. She likely already had her hands on her hips and steel in her eyes.

“Well, you had to know they’d find out eventually.” She said. “When the grades for the semester came back.”

“Yes, well, it went about as I’d expected. They’re quite cross with me.”

Where he expected a rant of “I told you so” or something else that he really didn’t need to hear, Satine once again, managed to surprise him. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Is that what you and Qui-Gon were talking about?”

“Kind of.” He was glad he wasn’t facing her so she couldn’t see how red his cheeks had gotten. “He’s been a little busy as of late. Expectedly so. I mean, Anakin is young and requires guidance. Now that this chosen one stuff is going around, everyone’s apparently going to be gunning for the boy… Plus, I’m practically done at Hogwarts. Just over a year and-”

“-He’s not replacing you.” She cut in.

Silence. All Obi-Wan could hear was the ticking of the clock as it echoed through the old house. He stilled his movements and turned to find she was standing very close to him. So close that if he just leaned forward a tiny bit…

“Ben, you know that, right?” Satine was firm in her position and did not want to let the topic drop. Nothing new about that.

He let his shoulders drop. “I’m not trying to say that he is. I don’t own him. He’s not my father and he doesn’t owe me anything. I have no business being hurt over that when there’s a child that requires care and he’s absolutely the right person for it.”

“You know that from experience.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “I do.”

“Well,” She moved the plate from Obi-Wan’s hands and set it on the counter. “You need care too sometimes.”

“Have you two been conspiring this evening?” He questioned. “Because that’s what he was saying.”

“No, but I’ve known you for the better part of six years and would like to think that I have at least become a little well-versed in your mannerisms. We care about you.”

He wondered if this meant she saw what Qui-Gon had apparently taken notice of when it came to how he acted around Satine… How she was the same as pursuing being an auror somehow.

“I know.” He smiled. “I care about you too… Both of you.”

Standing in the ambient low-lighting of the dining room, only illuminated by the last vestiges of Christmas lighting, he could still make out every detail of her lovely face. Her eyes had drifted above them in confusion and eventual bashfulness and he followed her gaze to see a small sprig of mistletoe precariously hanging where it hadn’t been before.

“I thought… I thought it was near the closet.” He said, but when he looked past Satine to where Hondo had been standing all evening, there was no longer any mistletoe.

It glittered with the remnants of enchantment and seemed to grow from the very ceiling. While he knew someone was definitely behind this, he didn’t have the presence of thought to think of anyone in particular.

Instead he looked quickly back to Satine, who was staring at him in a curious way. Her eyes were practically sparkling and seemed to rove over his entire face, settling ever so briefly on his mouth. He hadn’t missed it though, because he’d done the same thing.

“Hondo didn’t have much luck with that this evening.” She said gently.

“No,” He chuckled. “I don’t suppose he did. He’d certainly paid his dues. I wonder if he rigged it with a love potion of sorts.”

She smiled softly and he couldn’t bring himself to steer his eyes away from hers, like they were locked in a trance.

“I don’t think he did.” She said. He’d argue he was spellbound, if that didn’t sound so absurd, but he wasn’t sure which one of them moved first as it felt more like gravitational pull that they were both leaning into. His heart was in his throat and every thought that troubled him so deeply the entire evening washed away in a single second’s time. He’d closed his eyes, completely wrapped in warmth as their noses brushed together.

Just as he felt her soft breath hitch against his, a loud clang from up the stairs jolted them apart. As soon as the moment started, it had been shattered and both were the color of rubies.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called.

“Just… Uh, just brushing my teeth. Dental hygiene.” The small boy called and the patter of hasty footsteps followed before the bathroom door closed.

Oh, how he wanted to melt away right there.

Satine cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze. “Yes, well, I should get going.”

“I’ll walk you out.” He said, also unable to look her in the eyes for fear of what he’d find.

“No, no that’s alright. I’m just using a portkey anyway.” She shrugged and then began to walk away. However, he thought she might have forgotten something, as she paused for a long moment at the door, one hand on the knob. Then, faster than he could comprehend, she quickly turned around, marched over to him, leaned up and pressed a firm kiss on his cheek, just barely catching the corner of his mouth too.

He caught her flushed gaze for a second as she’d lingered a moment longer than anticipated, which was fine because he also felt like his brain had melted to his shoes.

“Happy Christmas, Ben.” She said before steering herself back towards the door.

He gently raised his hand to where she’d kissed him. “Happy Christmas, Satine.”

[wreathedinscales]

Final chap should be up tomorrow! :D

()

The biggest lie the Lan Sect ever told is the first rule of their precepts. It is not, in fact, the first rule. It is the same reason that children of direct descent are instructed separately from other disciples for the first year of their training.

Rule 1: Hide the Scale.

Lan An had been humble and wise, his wife, Lan Wu, much the same. They decided on this rule together as they decided all things, but it had been Lan Wu who first proposed it. Not out of jealousy, but concern.

For cultivators, immortality is considered the top because beyond that is considered so unattainable they do not contemplate it: a higher form. Flight without the sword. The elements bowing to their will, all realms open at their leisure. Dragonhood.

For his beloved, Lan An grew a pearl, and from that, human bones. The Lans do not have to cultivate beyond immortality because they are hatched, not birthed. If the cultivation world knew, the consequences could be catastrophic: harmony disrupted, power imbalanced. Lan Wu foresaw this, and Lan An agreed.

In one stroke, Lan Wangji breaks this most vital precept.

It begins with a soul-killing void. Its residue mocks Lan Wangji as Jiang Cheng calls the culprit an ally, however unorthodox their methods. As if this can be neatly packaged as unorthodox.

No. This is...this is something beyond death.

And it belongs to Wei Ying.

One moment, Lan Wangji is staring at the blackened shell where Wei Ying's core should be, and the next, he is roaring in a voice none but his brother have heard. It is a visceral song of mourning, of pain, and when Lan Wangji is finished, he is staring at his talons, red with Wen Zhuliu's blood.

Wen Chao is screaming. Jiang Wanyin and Wei Ying, Wei Ying, are gaping. The shadows have cowered.

Lan Wangji's natal form, young as he is, reaches the length of three grown men. His scales are winter blue tipped with white, oval-shaped and prominent. His antlers scrape the ceiling, breaking it in places. He lacks a full mane, but he does have fur, a thick line of it starting in the center of his forehead and stopping just before the blades of his tail. His family has called him a paragon of Lan blood. Right now, he does not feel it.

Wen Zhuliu gurgles. Lan Wangji sinks his talons deeper. Bones are crushed. Lungs give way. Wen Chao is still screaming; Jiang Wanyin slams his sword hilt against his temple.

Wei Ying is stepping back, recovered enough to regard Lan Wangji like a cornered animal. "Who...what..."

Then Lan Wangji looks up at him and his expression shatters.

"Lan Zhan?" he whispers.

Without quite realizing what he is doing, Lan Wangji croons in distress and curls his tail around Wei Ying as best he can. Wei Ying jumps like a startled rabbit, eyes darting about as if in a cage.

"L-Lan Zhan..." he murmurs. Then he shakes his head and forces a laugh. "Ah, Hanguang-Jun is certainly a prodigy of our generation."

Jiang Wanyin also regains himself. "What the hell?!"

Lan Wangji opens his mouth, but his words cannot be heard by human ears. He settles for crooning again, touching his snout to Wei Ying's lower dantian. By the way Wei Ying stiffens, he thinks he's understood.

"No," Wei Ying hisses, "How—stop it!" He shoves at Lan Wangji's head. Lan Wangji aches for him.

"Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Cheng shouts, "It might be Lan Wangji, but have some respect!"

The Void that has taken Wei Ying's body bristles. Mine, it snarls, Given willingly. Mine!

Willingly.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes. Of course it was willingly. Wei Ying's core is gone.

He opens his eyes to Wei Ying recoiled from him, hand held protectively over his stomach.

Lan Wangji must speak to him. He must do this right. Carefully, he unwinds his tail, bunching it underneath him as he accesses the veil in his flesh where his humanity resides. The first lesson every Lan descendant is taught.

Lan Wangji cannot hide all of his scales. His emotions, frayed during the war and shaken by Wei Ying's disappearance, force his tail and neck scales to show. His vision also does not change, remaining aura-focused, so his pupils must still be slits.

"Wei Ying," he whispers, storm clouds on his lips.

For once, Wei Ying is silent, the arrogant violence of before faded into blank wariness. Lan Wangji doesn't know which is worse.

"Wei Ying..."

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying snaps, like a warning. Does he not want Jiang Wanyin to know? Why not? Brash and irritable he may be, but Jiang Wanyin is his brother, and has searched tirelessly for him.

But Lan Wangji does not ask. He must do this right.

Thump.

An image comes into focus. The hidden paintings of Lan An's life. The legendary pearl fashioning a human body. Tales of other Lans' pearls, once in millennia things, and his own, sprouted by an impossible man.

Lan Wangji grew a pearl because of Wei Ying. It is, therefore, essentially Wei Ying's.

What else, Lan Wangji wonders, can a dragon's pearl do?

Slowly, Lan Wangji reaches into his robes and presents it, shining with fresh gold. In this moment, it actually does look like a golden core.

"Let me help you," he says.

Wei Ying's sunken eyes scream with the Void. He looks between the pearl and Lan Zhan. "What is this?"

"A pearl," Jiang Wanyin breathes, "Hanguang-Jun, how old are you?"

"Only slightly older than Wei Ying," Lan Wangji replies.

"B-but." Wei Ying swallows.

"Mn. It was unexpected." Lan Wangji takes a slow step towards Wei Ying. "Take it."

"What?" the brothers cry with very different tones.

The Void's shriek drowns them, though they cannot hear it. But Lan Wangji is a dragon. No resentment can overcome him, and the Void knows it. If Wei Ying accepts the pearl, it can do nothing to stop him.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji says, "Take it."

Wei Ying bares his teeth. "Why? Have I angered the great Hanguang-Jun with my cultivation? Does he think to bribe me—"

"Wei Ying!" rumbles the skies. Wei Ying and Jiang Wanyin recoil.

Lan Wangji takes Wei Ying's free hand. He closes his fingers around the pearl as Lan Lien once did for him.

"It is powerful," he says, not taking his eyes off the contact, "There is no exact account of its capabilities." Wei Ying's hand spasms. "Wei Ying." They meet eyes. "Let me help you."

The Void tries to wrest control back. Wei Ying's eyes remain clear and wet.

"Lan Zhan," he says, "I can't...this is—this is yours. Dragons only make one pearl, right?"

"Mn. And it is yours. Wei Ying," as Wei Ying shakes his head, "yours."

He presses their joined hands against Wei Ying's stomach. What is left of Wei Ying's spiritual energy trembles. Jiang Wanyin remains silent in shock, likely not seeing the connection like Lan Wangji's draconic eyes can.

Lan Wangji pushes. Wei Ying gasps loudly. His fingers slacken, but the pearl is already flowing into his flesh. Dragons can open any dimension; the human body is one of many. Wei Ying's is so terribly cold and hurt. The Void may have helped him survive, but it is not kind.

Lan Wangji tells it plainly that its assistance is no longer required.

The resentment burns to ash. Wei Ying collapses against Lan Wangji and weeps. For the first time since its growth, Lan Wangji's pearl feels safe.

()

When Wei Ying and Jiang Wanyin rejoin Lan Wangji outside the advisory office grimly satisfied, Lan Wangji says, "I must ask you not to speak of what you saw."

"You're telling us to lie?" Wei Ying has already regained a little color, his breathing easier. It's not much, but it's enough for now. "Lan Zhan!"

"Why would you not want people to know?" Jiang Wanyin asks. "You've reached beyond the top!"

Lan Wangji averts his eyes. "I have not."

Wei Ying crosses his arms. Suibian looks wonderful in his hand, Chenqing placed firmly at his waist. "How else could you be a dragon?"

Lan Wangji says, "Promise me."

The brothers share a glance.

Jiang Wanyin nods curtly. "You were a great help in the search for my brother." Wei Ying starts a little. "If it's that important, it's the least I can do."

Wei Ying clears his throat and offers a smile. "I'd look ungrateful if I refused you now, Lan Zhan." He softens. "I promise."

Lan Zhan nods. "Thank you."

Jiang Wanyin snorts. "I promised first, you know. But sure, stare at Wei Wuxian." He brushes past Wei Ying's spluttering towards the road. "Jie's in Qinghe. I have another promise to keep."

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 69

Obligatory pun - Nice.

Now that I have that out of my system and can therefore stop making horridly adolescent puns about it, this really is a pretty important chapter.  We finally see what is going to become of Else!

This is also a particularly long chapter - 4500 words, probably my longest to date.  Happy Insert Winter Holiday, Everyone!

I seriously considered splitting it (you can probably figure out where the break would be), but cooler heads prevailed (namely, @satan-parisienne, my beloved beta/sister/IRL!Tyche, and @baelpenrose, my constant source of mutual squeeing).

This is being queued up on December 23, to post on December 24.  I still hope to have a chapter to post next week, especially since what I have is so thematically appropriate for the date ;)

After Grey’s revelation of our timetable, the Council decided that negotiations with Else would take place within twenty-four hours.  To his credit, Eino promised to deliver the lexicon, but admitted that there would not be time for the precisely worded questions to be drafted and approved.  Since we also didn’t have time for Grey to locate another person who had spoken directly with Else, the questions were ultimately unnecessary – I had been making up questions on the fly for Else to this point, so I had no problem continuing to do so.

Once Xiomara closed the channel on our end, I tried to stand.  Almost immediately, my traitorous knees objected and I was only saved from hitting the floor by Xio’s quick reflexes.  “You’ve been on bed rest for the last three weeks, take it slow, dumbass,” she grumbled.

I forced myself into a standing position, propped up on the bed. “I have to talk to Conor and Maverick, and I’m sick of seeing the inside of this bay. Either get me the closest thing we have to a wheelchair, or I’m going to crawl to my quarters.”

“You do realize that even the Ark has backless hospital gowns? Everyone on the Ark would see you practically naked.”

I grabbed her shirt, and my pride was mollified when she leaned forward and gave me the illusion that I pulled her down. “Either get me a moving chair, or I will crawl down the corridor. Naked.”

With a barely-suppressed chuckle, she helped me into some clothes and onto a transport in the corridor. “While we are on our way, I’ll go ahead and give you the rundown of everyone you are going to ask about.  Derek and Sam came out of everything mostly unscathed.  They’re a little more jittery than usual, but that’s honestly to be expected.  Alistair is grumpy as hell from being flat on his back for so long, but once he was notified you were awake, he limited his bitching to the sheets, the mattress, and the lack of exercise.  Charly is awake and alert, but tired and nervous… dropping by to see her would probably be a good idea, honestly.  Grandma Kim is Grandma Kim and taking everything in stride.  Zach is completely undaunted and unimpressed.”

The slouch I had been suppressing made itself apparent in the wake of my relief. “So, everyone is okay?”

“Well, Hannah and Thor are still asleep, but they’ve been upgraded from comatose to just ‘asleep’.  Nixe is breathing on her own, the new lungs are working fine.”

My breath left my body suddenly. “No brain-damage?”

“Not comparatively, no.”

Good. Allowing myself to take in the condition of the real Ark, several things caught my eye. “Xio….”

She grinned and shook her head, locks flying. “Ah. You saw the trees.” I nodded dumbly, speechless. “As soon as they were approved to get out of bed, Derek and Sam started pestering Conor to start setting up the trees for Insert Winter Holiday.  Apparently, they were behind schedule, and Derek was very upset about that.”

“And they’re already done?”

“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “They just started yesterday.   Even with both of your boyfriends helping, they still have at least two more days to finish.”

“They’re already decorated,” I murmured.

“Sam was bored while he was on bed rest,” she shrugged. “So there are a lot of really intricate bows to put on all the trees.”

“Awesome,” I gushed enthusiastically. “I love trees that are over-decorated.” When she quirked an eyebrow at me, I rushed to reassure her. “No, I’m serious. The more heavily decorated the better. I know not all cultures do trees for winter holidays, but if there are trees, I love seeing them absolutely covered.” Truth be told, the decorations were helping dismiss some of the melancholy that came from knowing that I almost missed Insert Winter Holiday in everything that was going on. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. “So, I’m going to guess the trees are the reason we are most certainly not headed toward my quarters.”

With a blinding grin, she shook her head. “Nope. They should be somewhere on Level Eleven. That’s where we’re going.”

Soon enough, we stumbled upon an energetic argument between Maverick and Derek. “But this side looks nicer!”

“That’s not how it was placed last year.  The same side should show. That’s why Sam put more bows on the correct side.”

“How can you even tell!?”

Conor was standing back, smiling like he was watching the cutest thing he had ever seen.  When he glanced up and saw me, the smile vanished and he promptly reached between them to point in my direction. “Looks like our girl is up and around.”

Astonishingly, Derek beat them both to me and reached to tap my hand three times in succession, dropping his hand to his side each time.  My heart swelled with emotion, realizing that he essentially just gave me a bone-crushing hug. “Yeah, I’m okay, Derek. Just tired and a little weak.”

I braced myself for a much more physical greeting, but was saved when Conor and Maverick stopped dead in their tracks and backed up slightly.  In their rush to make sure I was okay, it looked like they tripped the proximity alert in Derek’s implant. “Did you do that on purpose?” I asked in hushed tones.

Without looking up, Derek flashed me a knocking gesture, positioned between his body and mine so the other two couldn’t see it. “They get carried away, and if you didn’t walk down here, they may hurt you by accident.” A brief pause. “Besides, they were in quarantine with you. I haven’t seen you since you brought me your blanket.”

“I missed you, too.  And Sam. Looks like he was busy, by the way.”

“You have no idea. Zach was practically buried under Sam’s bows. I got lucky. Mac kept trying to play with them and accidentally tore one to pieces. After that, Sam stopped piling them on my bed.”

“If you see him before I do, let him know the bows are beautiful.”

“Duh. Sam makes the best bows. But I’ll tell him you said that.” With that, he stepped around to the other side of the transport so my partners could approach, with a warning to them about being gentle and not breaking me.  Xiomara was practically vibrating in her seat from suppressed laughter at this point.

“Hey, you two,” I said softly as they gently checked me over before giving a very restrained double-hug. I took a moment to just breathe them in before breaking the news. “Trees look great – are there more this year?”

Conor nodded, shoving a hand through his shaggy hair. “We started cultivating them last year, so they would all be about the same size.  As soon as we were given permission to get up and about, I figured everyone could use the cheer.”

With a heavy sigh, I nodded my head. “You know how I feel about throwing food at people to help recover from a crisis.”

Maverick nodded solemnly. “But, last year when Insert Winter Holiday happened, there wasn’t a crisis, was there?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Xiomara beat me to it. “No, there really wasn’t, unless you count all of us being abducted for our own good.  Which makes this more a need to feel normal than anything else.”

“That was kind of the point last year,” I grumbled.

“And it worked,” she reassured me. “Just like it will work this year.” With that, she issued a very pointed look, silently reminding me why we were here.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Conor and Maverick.  “The reason everyone feels better is because Else is dying.”  Both of the looked confused, so I clarified. “They are killing themselves in an effort to stop hurting us.  They aren’t eating, and they aren’t spreading.  If something doesn’t change, they’ll be extinct in less than two weeks.”

“This is bad,” Maverick stated uncertainly, looking between the rest of us for confirmation.

“It is,” I nodded. “Because they are sentient species, we can’t just let them die off without trying to help. And,” I held up a hand to prevent the inevitable questions and objections, “I don’t mean just letting them go back to making us sick.  Xio and I talked to the Council, there are two solid options on the table as far as relocation – a dying planet or a nebula. The trick is, Else has to agree to whatever is decided.”

“And if they don’t?” Conor asked in the calm tone he always used when he knew he didn’t have all the information.

“If they don’t agree to anything, and keep dying off, we think there is a chance that they will drop below some kind of threshold for sapience.  In that event, it’s mostly likely that they would forget to restrain themselves, start multiplying and spreading again.”

“So, they would dip below sentience and pop back up?” Conor tilted his head skeptically. “I’m not getting something.  Usually, the plants I cultivate don’t end up with feelings and the impulse control of toddler.”

“To begin with, we don’t know how sick we got before they developed that level of intelligence,” I pointed out. “Second… if they do evolve back into sentient status, there is no guarantee they would be the same – version, for lack of a better term.  Different neural connections are what give us our own personalities… this Else wants to help us. What if the next one doesn’t? Worse, what if it wants to actively hurt us due to some primordial memory?”

“Better the devil you know,” Maverick murmured.

I sagged in resignation at what I had to tell them next. “Pretty much.  Which means humanity needs to negotiate with Else to figure out a solution both sides can live with.” Closing my eyes as tightly as possible, I braced for the torrent of words that would inevitably come.

Instead, I got two beats of silence and Maverick speaking softly. “Is there anyone who can do this instead? Anyone at all?”

“Not that Grey has been able to locate,” Xiomara responded over my shoulder as I cracked an eyelid.

What I saw was a clearly upset Conor biting his lips and holding Maverick’s hand, which was resting on the taller man’s bicep.  “Conor?” I asked slowly. “Are you angry?”

He took two deep breaths before answering. “Yeah,” he finally sighed, tension dropping from his body. “But at the situation, which I can’t do anything about.” Gently, he put both his hands on my shoulders and rubbed my arms lightly. “How soon does this need to be done? Is there more time to find someone who isn’t you?”

“No one knows at what point Else will basically devolve into just another bacterial infection,” I admitted. “So, we want to do this as soon as possible, and regardless of the option chosen, as soon as an agreement is reached, they’ll be placed in coldsleep in the interim to prevent further degradation of us or them.”

“You’re being cagey.” Both he and Maverick pinned me with very pointed looks. “That’s never a good sign.”

“No more than twenty-four hours.”

More deep breaths as he stepped away, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his neck as he paced in a small circle.  “That should be enough time to get the rest of the trees up, as long as we just let Derek call the shots on placement. Mav, can you manage to do that?”

He shuddered. “I may need to just find something else to do.   I can only handle so much.”

Conor nodded. “Right then.  You keep our bonnie lass company while they get her ready, let me know when they plan to start. I’ll be there, even if I have to tell Zach and Derek to just – I dunno, space the damned trees out an airlock.”

“Conor, you don’t – “

Two long strides and he was back in front of me, stroking my hair. “Love. I’ve mucked up in a big way lately, letting myself be too afraid and not being there like I should be.  ‘S not fair to you, ‘s not fair to Mav being pulled like that.  I understand if you don’t want me in there, with the way I’ve been acting, but otherwise? I’ll be parked by your berth til we land this lady on the colony if I have to be.”

With a sniffle, I nodded my head silently. Xiomara was not as convinced. “Conor, if you lash out one more time, I will take you into custody, do you understand?  I could not believe that you raised your voice the way you did before – you are one of the kindest people I know.”

“Understood, ma’am.” He managed to sound only slightly embarrassed by his previous behavior.

Wiping my eyes, I straightened the best I could. “Okay. I need to head back to the med bay – I’m exhausted. Maverick, ride back with me?”

“You got it, Sophie.” With that, he hopped in behind me in the transport

Twelve hours and a nap later, I was in my all-too-familiar berth in medical, being hooked up to an infusion drip for medication.  By grace alone, there was no need to hook me up to any wires like there would have been on Earth – they could monitor my brain and cardiac activity with scans instead.  “No sedation if I get mad again, okay?” I demanded sternly. “I need to be clear-headed for this.”

“I make no promises,” Grey replied in a very similar tone to when they observed that my plants had grown. “If your heart rate becomes dangerous, or you show signs of an anxiety or panic attack, I will sedate you for your own sake.”

Ugh. Grey was back to being logical. “Can I at least request the minimum effective dose, nothing more?”

One dark eyebrow arched. You are on thin ice, it screamed. “That is acceptable, provided it does not endanger your health.”

Before I could do more than scowl, the door hissed open to reveal a daunting number of people. In addition to the entire Council, I saw Tyche, Antoine, Alistair of all people, Zach and Derek.  Bringing up the rear was Conor, who quickly darted over to my far side, beside Maverick.  Tyche and Antoine took up their now-usual positions on my other side, with my sister’s grey eyes colder than I had ever seen them, daring the Council to try to make her move.

They better have Archimedes’s lever if they plan to try that, I mused. Gently resting a hand on her arm in solidarity, I turned to face the breathless man who just sat on my opposite side. “You made it,” I whispered.

“Told ya I would,” he grinned. “Can’t abandon you and Mav to do this alone.” He glanced up and his brows instantly furrowed. “Why’s the Council here?”

Maverick tackled that one, having been present for the initial explanation. “In case any solutions are suggested by Else that weren’t already covered by the Council, but have merit.”

“Okay… How’re they supposed to know what is discussed, exactly? Noah can only get vague hints, can’t they?”

Grimacing, I rocked my head side to side in hesitancy. “Yes and no? They know the lyrics to songs that are stuck in my head, sometimes.  Or at least understand the concepts enough to make it seem like he does.  We are going to try having me stop and repeat, slowly and emphatically, what Else is suggesting if they go off script.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“I’ve – I may have been given executive authority in an emergency,” I admitted.

Conor whistled through his teeth. “Sophie. That’s – that’s a lot of pressure.”

“No shit,” I muttered before turning to everyone else standing in the room. “Okay, is this my entire watch party, or are we still waiting?”

Simon spoke up – he was getting better at that. “This is everyone. And a few extras, but I am not going to be the one arguing with your family, especially since the majority agreed to stay out of your way.” He coughed and rubbed his neck before explaining the obvious exceptions. “Tyche and Antoine are claiming official capacity.”

My sister held her head high, chin out – if there was an encyclopedia entry for not gonna budge, that profile was probably the photo next to it.  “Should something happen, the responsibility would fall on me to identify candidates for her replacement to suggest to the Council. Since I would rather not, I am staying to observe and ensure it doesn’t come to that.”

Before Antoine could do more than straighten his spine, Grey spoke up. “Mr. Costa is a medical professional, and I have requested him be present, in that capacity, for this procedure.”

Eino attempted a token argument. “Councillor Hodenson, you are a doctor. Can you not – “

“I have a doctorate. Three, actually: biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry.  None of that replaces practical training, which Mr. Costa possesses and I do not.”

The educator’s hands went up, mollified. “I stand corrected. Objection withdrawn.”

“Okay, can we please get on with this before I have fourth thoughts?” Second and third were out the window at this point – I had been lying in the berth with nothing else to do but worry for nine hours at this point.

“Any further objections or inquiries from the Council before we proceed?” Grey asked drily.  When only silence followed, they nodded. “Per my reports, Else can currently only communicate when a person is in a REM state. Our previous attempt involved Sophia being lucid during this process, to great effect.  However, I believe that her complete immobility is what caused the difficulty in relaying information back to Miys.  I have adjusted the medication to allow for voluntary muscle control in order to allow her to hopefully subvocalize while relaying information, as this has shown to provide accurate communication with Miys.  Sophia is already aware, but to ensure there are no surprises, a spinal block will be placed in order to limit motion to head and jaw. This is only to prevent flailing and potential injury to Sophia.”

Tyche and Conor both turned toward me with wide-eyed stares. I just nodded. “We’ve tested it a couple times to make sure I could still talk.  It’s the same way Noah kept me from hurting myself further when I came aboard, originally.” Unspoken was the fact that being held down freaked me the fuck out, whereas I had found the spinal block did not do the same thing when I knew to expect it.  In theory, dream-me would never notice the difference.

Grey continued. “Miys will begin transmitting Eino’s lexicon into Sophia’s lingual implant.  Sophia, please recite the lexicon once it starts transmitting.  This will allow us to monitor communication, both from us to your implant and from you to Miys.” They looked around the room. “It is essential that no one speak unless absolutely essential that they do so.  Sophia will perceive this as being whispered, and it is imperative that she hear the lexicon accurately.”

“I love you,” I whispered to the four sitting around my bed, before I started reciting a list of words.  True to Eino’s promise, his team had put together a much more concise recording, one which looped back to the beginning.  Within thirty minutes, I had completed the entire list twice: once completely out loud, once seeming to trail off as the sedation took effect. The spinal block gave a similar sensation to being weighed down by a heavy blanket, making it more therapeutic than nerve-wracking, and only encouraging the sedatives.  When I stopped speaking aloud, Grey nodded to confirm that I was still subvocalizing effectively.  Not long after that, my eyes drifted closed.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the familiar dream-Ark, still reciting the lexicon. So far, so good. I wanted badly to call out and check on Else, but determinedly stuck to the script.  Tears of concern flowed down my cheeks as I completed repetition after repetition. Were we too late? Was the threshold closer than we expected?

Threshold. Late threshold.

“Else!” I cried in relief. “Are we too late?”

Threshold further.

“The threshold is further away? Is that what you mean?”

We mean threshold further away.

Belatedly, I remembered I needed to supplement the lexicon with my questions. “That would be a yes. Thank goodness.  I was worried you would be – no longer here.”

We are here.

“We know what you are doing.  You don’t have to kill yourself. We don’t want you to go extinct. We want you to live, just like you want us to survive. I’ve been sent to discuss options. Most likely relocation, like we talked about before.”

We do want you to live. What are the options?

There we go. Much more coherent.  I sat cross-legged on the floor, craning my neck around. “Is there any chance you can try to… manifest or create something for me to look at? I keep trying to see you, just out of habit, and it would be easier if I had something specific to look at.”

I will try.

Slowly, a fuzzy yellow blob came into focus on the floor in front of me. It was about the size I associated with a corgi, but bright yellow.  I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my face as it slowly drew on grass-green eyes and too many stubby appendages.

Else looked – cute, for lack of a better term.  Like an oversized, fuzzy, cartoon caterpillar

“That works,” I laughed.

I tried to manifest as non-threatening as possible.

“I think you nailed it.” I couldn’t help wondering if this was what Else would look like as a larger being. One could only hope. “The people on my ship have asked me to negotiate with you.  They are monitoring the best they can what I am saying, but there are going to be times that I need to repeat something to be absolutely sure. When that happens, I am going to do this – “ I touched my ear with my hand. “That way it is clear – to me – that I am repeating it for my shipmates, okay?”

Okay.

Still going well.  “Like I said earlier, we know you have stopped feeding, and stopped reproducing.  There is a serious chance that you won’t be sentient anymore… you won’t be you.”

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

“But… Else. If you stop being you, you won’t remember that you don’t want to hurt anyone.  What is the first thing you remember?”

Hungry.

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “You’ll just be hungry, again.  We want you to stay who you are now – intelligent, with feelings, and able to communicate with us.  And we hope to help you with that.”

Help how.

“Well, you and I already talked last time about taking you to a nebula, or to an iron rich planet with no atmosphere.  We can even place beacons to let others know you live there, so maybe a species who doesn’t depend on iron to survive can find you.”

We really like humans.

I sighed. Of course they did. “The problem there is that we need the iron you eat so that we can function properly, just like you need it.  Even if you die faster without it, we can still die without constant transfusions.” I focused on what it was like being in medical, sick and scared, connected around the clock to a machine that basically fed Else. “Humans cannot thrive like that. But you can thrive without us.”

I was one-third my current population when I realized I was hungry.

That stopped me dead in my tracks. “Wait. Did you just tell me the threshold for you to be sapient?”

Yes.

Breathless, I reached up to touch my ear and focused as hard as I could. “Whoever is speaking in fractions out there, I owe you dinner.” I repeated it several times in a whisper, praying it made it through clearly. Finally, I turned back to Else.  “The information you just gave us creates more options, Else.  We can ensure you survive.” I stood and started pacing around the now-wiggling caterpillar.  “If we remove you from our bodies, can you survive in a culture?”

Yes. There are several of me in cultures now.

Right.  Grey’s tests. “If we removed you, placed you in cultures, would you promise to stay in the cultures and start reproducing again?”

I can, yes.

“Next step: Half of you in a nebula, to guarantee you would survive, and half on a planet?  You could potentially be like Miys, and develop more individuals of your species without risking your sentience.”

Thirds.

“Not thirds, halves.” It seemed confused by the change in fractions.

Nebula, planet, Ark. Thirds.

Not as confused as I thought, apparently. “You want us to keep part of you on the Ark!?” I asked incredulously.

All options. One-third of me in a nebula, ensure survival.  One-third on a planet, meet a new species.  One-third on Ark, in culture, stay with humans. Absurdly, it wiggled even more, as though excited at the idea.

I repeated the proposal back to the Council and Miys, again praying they heard me.  After several minutes of hoping in vain, I received nothing.  Knowing that much more time was passing for them, if I hadn’t had a response by now, it wasn’t coming.

“I need to think this through,” I said aloud. “The Council agreed to taking you to a nebula OR a barren world… surely they would agree to both of those, no problem…. But they didn’t agree to you staying on the Ark, except in coldsleep.” I changed direction and paced clockwise this time.  “They – we – also had no idea that you would be willing to stay in a culture, like some fish in an aquarium.”

Aquarium. I like that. Can I stay in an aquarium instead?

“On the scale we are talking, it’s basically the same thing, but please don’t push your luck,” I scowled at the wide-eyed caterpillar.  That thing was just too fucking cute, which was decidedly not helping me.

Executive authority. Executive authority.  I had the power to make this decision, but probably because they knew I would agonize over it. With a groan, I stopped in my tracks. “Else, if we let part of you stay on the ship, we need a guarantee of good behavior.  Meaning, if you infect us again, you have to agree that we are taking that entire third of you to the nearest nebula or planet. Do you understand that?”

The caterpillar fucking bounced, like it was happy. Yes, I understand. And I agree to those terms.

I was going to regret this. I just knew it. Huge mistake.

“Welcome to the Ark, Else.”

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[winchester-with-wings]

You’re Not Alone

Sam Winchester x Bella (@dreamingforthosewholost​)

A Coronavirus-related story.

@dreamingforthosewholost commissioned me!

Request:  Unfortunately someone in my immediate family has caught the coronavirus and me myself I’m feeling kind of ill. I’m going to test for it sometime this week. And I would really appreciate it if you could write this fic! So the request is that Sam Winchester is my boyfriend and he is taking care of me. 

Word Count: 2200ish!

Author’s Notes: This was an interesting commission! One of the first ones I’ve gotten in a long while and I really appreciate Bella’s support <3 The title is actually kinda relevant too since it’s been such a prominent message during the pandemic. This is personalized with Bella’s name and physical features. promise it’s more fluff and comfort than anything else.

Triggers: family member is covid positive, Bella is assumed positive too.

Wanna get previews, early access and make exclusive requests? Become a Patron! You can follow my Patreon for free too! Can’t become a patron? Please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!) Commissions are open too!

Mobile Masterlist  /  Patreon & Commissions Masterlist  /  Commissions are Open

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Sam and Dean Winchester have officially declared 2020 cancelled.

They'd endured plenty of end-of-world scenarios so far…too many really. But usually there was something for them to do. Something that they could do to stop it, fix it, save the world. It's not really a savior complex when history time and time again proved they were truly heroes.

Not that Bella was going to tell them they were bonafide heroes.

Dean, in particular, didn't need the ego boost, and she didn't want Sam to do something stupid out of obligation to deal with the current situation. Because he couldn't.

The coronavirus, Covid-19, was not of the supernatural realm and couldn't be solved by the best hunters in the world. No, the world was sick and the virus had sprouted from nature and humankind's carelessness. Monsters, ghosts, and demons were now the least of their worries. The creatures even seemed to be sitting it out, doing their own part to give humans a break from hunting and hauntings. This meant that Sam and Dean were left with nothing but terrible headlines, of which they could do nothing about. Humankind's own negligence--failure to react, to test, to take precautions--this was on them. And while the Winchester brothers had been known to face human "monsters," a global pandemic was wildly out of their pay-grade and abilities.

And so over the first few weeks, Sam and Dean read the headlines. Scouring them for anything unrelated to the virus. They came up empty, thankfully.

They took the necessary precautions themselves, going to a "big box store" in town for more than just the supplies often acquired at a gas station convenience store. And as much as Dean loved food, he'd never seen the Impala so loaded with groceries…and toilet paper.

"Dean, we don't need two giant packs of toilet paper," Sam had scolded him, sighing. Dean frowned and had followed through with tossing the toiletry into their cart.

For what it's worth though, the bunker had earned this moniker. All supplies Sam and Dean picked up went towards their stockpile, which had been greatly depleted when they'd taken in refugee hunters from another dimension.

"We'll need this eventually," would be Dean's response to Sam's groans of disapproval as countless bags of chips and cases of beer and frozen packages of meat were piled on.

They'd also expected that more hunters in their newly-formed network would seek shelter for the quarantine. But no one came to the bunker. Instead they stayed away, as recommended, you know…because of social distancing.

Castiel visited when he could, but angel radio was overwhelmed with prayers and he couldn't ignore them for long. Cas had cured someone with the OG plague before, this should be nothing.

Bella--another hunter who lived in town--tried to stay away from the brothers. She'd never forgive herself if breaking quarantine meant weakening them; surely there was some Big Boss fight on the horizon.

Bella had not immersed herself into the hunter's life just yet. She'd recently moved back home and it had only been by a chance meeting in the park during a morning jog that she'd met Sam and soon after, her eyes were opened to the world of the supernatural.

Hell, if she hadn't known any better, Bella would've thought Sam was some sort of god, or an angel. Or a soldier, but no. He was a hunter, and the best way to cultivate her relationship with him had been to become a hunter too, although he hadn't been happy about that. How was she supposed to live life like a normal person, going to work at a restaurant when day-to-day life could be plagued by literal demons? It really put things into perspective. Sam Winchester changed Bella's life, and as long as she was with him, it was for the better.

The quarantine brought with it a personal predicament. Stay home with her family, or with Sam and Dean in the bunker? So far, Bella had only spent time at the bunker during the day in the archives, and even more recently had she spent the night there. But the quarantine could mean practically moving in. Who knew how long it would last? If the articles were to be believed, the rising numbers of infected people could mean at least a month stuck inside.

The stay at home order for Kansas went into effect at the end of March. Yet despite this, Bella's job at a restaurant was considered essential.

"Stay with me," Sam asked her, leaning on the trunk of the Impala. Bella was poised between his legs, his hands resting on her lower back. "We won't get sick and neither will you. It's the best way to keep your family healthy," he reasoned as his thumbs traced a pattern along her back. It was a logical suggestion and she was open to considering it. But how her family would handle the quarantine without her still weighed on her. How could she possibly predict how they'd cope with the isolation? She pressed her forehead into the curve of Sam's neck and nuzzled him.

"But where would I sleep?" she murmured. It's not like she had her own room at the bunker. A deep, throaty chuckle reverberated in Sam's chest and his arms coiled around her.

"Oh I think you know the answer to that."

Bella moved into the bunker that night.

----------

She stayed in touch with her family, of course, occasionally dropping off food on the front porch and retreating to her car. Phone calls with her grandmother and video chats with her parents too, but then what she'd dreaded came to pass.

Her grandmother tested positive. Her symptoms were rather mild for someone her age, but that didn't stop Bella from worrying. There was a night after a longer shift at work that she came home to the bunker and broke down and cried while Sam held her.

"They're all at risk now!" she cried. Her grandmother had come to stay with her parents so that she wouldn't be all alone. She was both thankful she hadn't stayed there but also felt guilty that now her family was facing the virus without her.

Dean cooked them all a dinner of comfort food and reassured her that he'd reach out to Cas, asking for a miracle.

Even with the orders in place, Bella felt a flexibility that others may not have because of her essential job. Yes, she dealt with rude people who just couldn't cope with the state of things, but she also had a reason for leaving the bunker and being out on the road. Although no one stopped her or questioned her; these stay-at-home orders weren't enforced very well.

She'd put together a care package for her grandmother and, while wearing gloves and a mask (oh and foggy glasses), and managed to stop by her parent's home. Her grandmother had been fortunate enough to not require hospitalization, but the idea that she might be struggling was overwhelming--enough that Bella was willing to take the risk.

She was young and healthy, confident that she could beat the virus as well if it came to it. Still, she planned to stay a safe distance away and avoid touching things. It broke Bella's heart that she couldn't hug her parents, couldn't hold her grandmother's hand.

"You're going to be okay," was the only reassurance she could conjure up.

--------

Not even two weeks later…

Bella called in sick.

It started with a sore throat. Dean wanted to chalk that up to her snoring.

"I do not snore!" Bella contested. "Sam! Tell him!" His grin was wiped away when called to defend her, and with a serious face, he nodded.

"Yeah Dean, she doesn't snore. I do." Literally behind Bella's back, Sam's eyes widened and he shook his head. "She totally does. So loud." he mouthed to his brother. "Still, just to be safe, babe, you should rest."

Sam went out on a small supply run and when he returned, Bella was laid up in bed, coughing.

"Oh sweetheart," Sam sighed, coming to her bedside. Using the back of his giant hand, he reached out to touch Bella's forehead, gleaming with sweat.

"No, don’t!" She recoiled from his touch. "I think--I think I have it." Saying the name out loud would only make it more real. Sam just smirked and made contact with her skin.

"You're burning up."

"I told you," she said, just before breaking into a fit of coughing.

"We need to get you tested. Come on." Sam scooped Bella into his arms with ease, taking her blanket with them.

He held her hand as he drove her to a testing site in town and held her hand while her sinuses were swabbed. He was wearing a facemask but his reassuring smile reached his hazel eyes; she loved the way they crinkled at the corner when he smiled.

"I should probably stay in another room when we get back," Bella suggested, rather quietly. Was she ashamed? Embarrassed? Or was she just scared? She'd been careful and perhaps even a little cocky that she could handle it, and where did that land her? Sucking wind.

"No. It's fine. I'll crash in another room. I want you to be comfortable." Sam rested his hand on her knee. He looked so good behind the wheel of the impala, such a shame that Dean doesn't let him drive more often. "Besides, your germs are already all over my room."

"I don't want you guys to get sick," Bella mumbled as Sam pulled into the bunker garage.

"Baby, we've already been exposed. We'll be okay. We just need to focus on you getting better now."

Sam opened the passenger door and carried Bella again, despite her complaints.

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

The results didn't take very long to come back positive. But it also wasn't a surprise either.

Cas returned to the bunker and with a touch of his hand, he was able to determine that Sam and Dean were healthy and safe.

"Can you help her?" Sam asked the angel. He sat on the bed next to Bella, brushing her long brown hair away from her face. Once, while she was resting and they were streaming something on Sam's laptop, he'd tried to braid her hair. It hadn't been too successful but it did the trick of pulling her hair away from her face and neck, preventing it from frizzing up more than it already did.

Cas sighed. "I can try but it's taking minor miracles to heal the people in the hospitals. Even still, I can't wipe it out of a person's system completely. It would be suspicious and could hinder man's search for proper treatments and cures. But for Bella, I can try." Cas stepped forward with his hand outstretched. Bella's tired brown eyes suddenly widened and held up a hand.

"W-wait, wait no. Stop," she managed to rasp out. Castiel looked utterly confused. Who would refuse a miracle? "If you can heal people. Make them better. Don't waste it on me."

"What? Baby, it's not a waste," Sam argued.

"No, you don't understand." Bella started coughing. "I'll be okay. But if Cas can do this…can I ask that he visit someone else?" Realization ran across Sam's features.

"Your grandmother." Bella nodded.

"Oh, of course," Cas agreed without further questions. Dean led his friend out of the room, offering to get him your address.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. I should've thought of that too. I'm sorry," Sam said, his face twisted up in guilt. He settled deeper into the bed beside Bella and she shifted so that she rested her head on his chest rather than a pillow.

"It's okay," Bella said, and she really meant it.

"I can't stand seeing someone I care about in pain." Sam seemed to be speaking into the silence filling his bedroom, the room he'd relinquished to Bella. A room he didn't sleep in right now, but spent just about every other waking moment in. Bella winced as she readjusted, snuggling closer to Sam.

"You care about me?" Sam's chuckle reverberated in his chest, muffling the sound of his heartbeat--Bella's favorite lullaby.

"You must be really sick because you sound crazy. Of course I care about you, sweetheart." Sam pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"My body hurts," Bella said a moment later, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.

"What can I do?"

"Just hold me? Maybe get rid of the blanket?" Just moments ago, she'd been shaking, so cold and sweaty. Now it was too much.

"Yeah, okay." Sam slithered out from under Bella. He did as she asked, removing the duvet and then adjusted her position in bed with more pillows. He turned off the light as well, setting up his laptop per their usual lounging routine nowadays.

"Sam?" His giant figure had been lost to the shadows of his room. But hearing the fear in her voice, Sam returned to the bed.

"Hey, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Bella sighed. "But you could still get sick. You shouldn't be here." Sam removed his shirt. Bella blinked and somehow missed out on watching him change into his pajama pants. And then he climbed into the bed.

"I'm not leaving you. I won't leave you alone. So many people are going through this alone but I won't let you, Bella. I'm not going anywhere."

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

Tagging:  @abbessolute @book-loving--anime-chick @faithtrustandpixiedust95​ @fabinapercabeth4179​ @sanya-gryff​ @softdudebro​ @thinkwritexpress-official​ @autoblocked​ @karazoiel​ @therealcap​ @mathle0matle​ @whoopxd​ @bookworm4ever99​ @geeksareunique​ @pottxrwolff​ @ravenhaviland​ @clockblobber​ @melaninspice11​  @gryffindorable713​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​

[jooniesmind]

Whispering Shadows pt.2

Pairing: Park jimin x Jung Hoseok

Genre: supernatural, ghost whisperer!Jimin, ghost!Hoseok, angst

Word Count: 2k

previous

A/N: Little disclaimer, the pairings in this series are going to be platonic! Thank you for reading, enjoy! 

It must’ve been a few weeks after Jimin’s encounter with that young ghost. He didn’t really leave the house after that, the feeling he was left with was crushing him. It honestly felt like he killed that boy. He couldn’t stop thinking about his poor sister, what she might’ve gone through. He contacted the neighborhood’s active Ghost whisperer about it, asking him what he’s supposed to do with ghosts. “Everyone’s job is different, you have to find what your part is in this”. Jimin groaned as he tried to get comfortable in his bed. Bullshit, he whispered to himself. He kicked his blankets off and headed to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. It was almost lunch time. He poured that black coffee that somehow resembled his soul in his reusable cup –yes, we are eco friendly- and headed out.

It was a shitty day. It would rain soon and of course he didn’t bring an umbrella with him. He sighed and kept on walking, his target being a little kiosk at a park nearby. As he was making his way –downtown- at a gradually faster pace, he bumped into someone and knocked them over. He cringed at himself and turned to face the person on the ground. It was a man, around his age. He helped him up as he noted that he was wearing basically rags and half of his clothes were destroyed. As soon as the stranger held his hand, he realized. Ah shit, here we go again. This time he tried to be just a tiny bit more rational about it

“Hello” he said softly as the first drops of rain started hitting his round glasses “Are you okay?”

“Uh, hi,” the stranger looked at him in awe “I think so”

“Do you know where you are?” He asked with a smile

“I’m not sure. I think I’m dead” he didn’t seem upset by it, just surprised

Jimin chuckled “You seem pretty chill about it”

“Chill?” his eyes got wide at the unknown expression

He sighed “Well, if you keep going in that direction you’ll find someone who can help you. See ya”

Without waiting for any kind of answer, he turned around and started walking again, leaving the wondering ghost to, well, wonder. Few moments later he felt cold hands grabbing his as softly as possible and he jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air. He turned around out of breath and looked at the young man

“What is it?”

“I’m so sorry” the ghost seemed so sad, Jimin almost felt bad under all the raging fear that ran through his whole spine “I can’t walk”

Jimin looked down. He was barefoot and his feet looked badly injured, as if he had walked in hot charcoal. What the fuck kind of testing is this. Could ghosts even feel pain? Was he being ghostphobic? That’d be a dickmove. He turned around and heard a small whimper from the ghost that thought was being left all alone. Jimin lowered a bit his body

“Hop on” he said waiting

The ghost obliged and climbed on his back. Jimin lifted him and started walking as the ghost literally wrapped himself around him like a koala. He was skinny. It was in that moment that a weird smell started creeping up on Jimin but he ignored it and walked under the rain. As he was approaching his destination, he could feel the ghost on his back tense up.

“I’m sorry” he whispered

“It’s my job” Jimin replied and came off maybe a bit too aggressive “I wouldn’t let you out there, you’re here for help and I’m the only one that can provide that help right now”

Silence again. What a weird ghost. He took out his phone and dialed the only number that he knew could help him at the moment

“You’ve reached the one and only-“

“Shut up Chan, I need your help”

“Well well well, look who’s back for more” the playful voice teased

“Why are you like this”

“Trauma, mostly”

“Well I need you to come here”

“Oh how the turns have tabled”

“Chan-“

“Do I have to rescue you, Mochi?”

“Bang Christopher Chan-“

“mom-?”

“Meet me at the kiosk you fucking idiot”

The ghost now seemed interested in what just happened. Jimin smiled and tried to explain as best as he could. By the time the ghost kind of got the essence of cell phones, they arrived at the kiosk. Jimin let the young man down and he sat on one of the big benches. The whisperer took his coffee out of his unreasonably big inner pocket and placed it on the little table, taking a good sip so that he’d be able to stomach what he was about to hear. But his nose was faster. In a closed space now he could clearly smell the burnt flesh and the smoke and blood. His expression became concerned as the ghost hadn’t taken his eyes off of the floor

“What’s your name bud?” really? Bud? How much lamer can you get?

He seemed to think about it for a bit “Hoseok” he concluded “Jung Hoseok. But my friends call me Hobi”

“My name is Park Jimin” he tried to keep calm but his voice cracked. Realizing that he essentially carried a corpse for two miles was making him sick to his stomach and the coffee wasn’t helping

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asked him

“I’m fine” he lied “I’m just not good at this yet” he continued through gritted teeth

“Oh..”

The silence made everything worse. Jimin wasn’t the one to make a big scene but he couldn’t handle ghosts, he just couldn’t. Hoseok looked young and scared and his empathy overcame his fear for a bit but that smell was punching him in the face repeatedly and he felt like he was about to have an anxiety attack

“I like your glasses”

Everything stopped. He looked up and saw the friendly ghost smile at him. And upon taking a better look, he tried, god he tried so hard not to show him how bad he felt. The edges of his hair were burnt, his nails were black, the skin of his neck a bright pink like an open wound

“What happened?” he managed to ask

The ghost’s smile dropped “Right” he said as if he had forgotten for a bit “I was a witch” he blurted out and tried to smile “I lived in a peaceful village. I don’t remember its name but it was beautiful. I lived with a family that wasn’t mine. Mother always said that they abandoned a miracle. She’s the only one that loved me” he started scratching the table nervously “One day, father said that we should try to cultivate that year because it was a blessed year as he said. I advised him against it, because my stones and pendulums said that the ground was poisoned and all the money would be lost. I told him that we should leave, that that land had something bad in it. But well..” he stopped

“He didn’t believe you” Jimin mumbled

“Everything died. Everything he planted died, even the animals. His kids started getting sick. He blamed me for it” he smiled at Jimin’s shocked expression “He said I poisoned the land and that I’m a spawn of evil. They told the village that I was a witch,” he choked up on his tears and Jimin really didn’t know what to do “I was just trying to help,” he said while his face was buried in his hands “I didn’t want them to lose their money and my siblings to get sick,” he was now sobbing, his voice getting louder “I just wanted to help them but they never believed me. Even mother stood in silence as they tied me up on top of woods and oil and-“

Jimin quickly put his hands between his hair and placed his forehead on the other’s head. The smell made him choke and tear up even more but this wasn’t about him

“This is enough, Hoseok” he softly said “You did nothing wrong, you just found yourself among the wrong people” he sat back down and the other looked up, tears running down his cheeks, his white eyes piercing right through him “You’re safe now, okay? It’s all over. No more pain, no more fear, no more suffering. You’re safe”

They remained silent for a bit to calm down

“Jimin?” Hoseok asked

“Yes, Hobi?”

“I didn’t deserve to die, did I?” he wasn’t angry. He was just so deeply, immensely sad. He looked devastated, as if he blamed himself

Jimin smiled “Of course not. People can be monsters sometimes. That isn’t your fault. And that doesn’t mean that no one will ever love you. The right people will give you the right love”

“It’s too late now”

He smiled even more at that “Someone told me that I have a very pretty face and that they recognize me from somewhere they couldn’t really remember. So make sure to recognize me next time we meet, okay?”

His eyes grew wide and smiled as Jimin could see his feet slowly fading away “I’ll try my best!” he said cheerfully “Thank you so much Jimin. Although you lied to me”

Hoseok’s hands started fading away rapidly as Jimin looked at him confused “What?”

“You said you’re not good at this”

His smile faded away, leaving Jimin alone in the room. He remained silent for a while, staring into the void with no emotion or thought running through his brain, when he heard a familiar voice

“Jimin?”

He looked at Chan for a second before getting up and stumbling outside the kiosk to empty his already not so full stomach. His friend –were they even friends?- ran his hand on his back, helping him maintain balance. A few minutes later he was done throwing up and sighed while still bent on his knees. Chan gave him a wet tissue and shuffled his hair

“Rough one kiddo?” he asked as the other one stood straight

“I’m older than you” he mumbled and made sure that his blond hair hadn’t gotten caught in the crossfire

“You always so grumpy?” he sounded annoyed but they both knew he wasn’t really

“Most of the time”

“So a witch?” he looked into the kiosk “That smell is really something huh”

“Tell me about it, I carried him all the way here”

“You’re getting better at this. What is it, your fifth one?”

Jimin gave him a side glare “Second”

“Second? And you didn’t fuck up? You’re a natural”

“I did fuck up” he sat on a rock nearby, not wanting to go into the kiosk any time soon “I basically told him that there’s a next life”

Chan stared at him for a while “And the problem is? Bitch no one knows that the fUck happens after those poor souls leave this earth for good, so you giving them hope that most people already have is not a bad thing”

“But-“

“No, you did good. I’m positive that there’s a next life, okay? I know there is”

“Whatever dude”

Chan sighed “Well, do as you please, but just know that ghosts demanding you to help escape is not random”

“How did you-“

“Bye!” he said as he was already walking away

“Fucking weirdo” he mumbled as he checked his phone

He had one message from his professor at university. He groaned and opened it

“Hello

Jimin, I understand that you’re going through some personal issues, but our curriculums still run and the exchange students will be here soon. You were assigned to host one of them, right? They’ll be late of a few days due to some complications in their transportation, they were supposed to arrive tomorrow on boat but they’ll come next week by plane, so we will have to go to the airport if that’s okay with you. That’ll be all”

[abarbaricyalp]

You Are Artwork (I could admire you forever)

Flower Shop/ Tattoo AU/Coffee Shop AU 

Pynch, Rated: T, No archive warnings apply

@pynchpromptweek

AO3 Link

“Okay, lemme see your deck again,” Ronan said, slamming the BMW door behind him and hopping onto the concrete walkway in front of the the strip center. Adam followed him, lazy and easy and happy, and spread his deck over the warm hood of the car. “No, face up,” Ronan ordered, and Adam scooped them back up and flipped them over.

“This defeats the purpose of drawing a card,” Adam said drily, leaning into Ronan’s side as Ronan reached out to pluck the Magician from where it was stuffed between the Emperor and the Lovers. He tapped the edge of the card against the hood and held it up for Adam to look at. “I know what it looks like,” he assured with a half grin. “I know it’s your favorite.” He gathered the cards up again and Ronan finally handed over the card. Adam placed it back to back with the deck and a thrum of energy ran up his arm pleasantly before he replaced the deck in his back pocket.

“You’re gonna look so hot, babe,” Ronan said, walking on Adam’s good side, which meant he was between Adam and the buildings, which meant he kept Adam from detouring into his favorite tarot shop.

“I’m so nervous I think I’m gonna vomit,” Adam answered.

“Hope you’re not getting it on your stomach, then.”

Adam didn’t answer and he felt Ronan’s eyes flicker over to him but he still didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, you better not get one on your stomach. I may break up with you.”

“It’d be awful of you to essentially brand me and then leave me on our anniversary,” Adam finally said, rolling his eyes. 

“Letting you choose your own tattoo and shit isn’t the same as branding you. It’s not my fault if you wanna put my face on your body. Can’t blame you, but it’s not my fault.”

Adam snorted and elbowed Ronan’s ribs before they came up on the new tattoo shop. Adam had liked the feel of it as soon as he’d gone in out of curiosity when it opened and one of the artists had worked with the guy who’d done Ronan’s tattoo. They’d watched it for a while and Ronan got too invested in everyone who worked there and the art was good and a late night bad idea had turned into anniversary gifts. If it could be considered a gift when they were each paying for their own.

The only catch was, they’d been working on it for three weeks and hadn’t told each other anything about their tattoos. Adam definitely worried about his own tattoo but he couldn’t begin to imagine what Ronan was planning to add to his sprawling masterpiece. He was so fond of it the way it was, that the thought of it changing made his heart ache.

When their respective artists came out, Adam found his fingers clenching around Ronan’s in a moment of childish selfishness and fear. The artist Adam had been working with--Mae--smiled gently. “You know, you could always just sit with each other,” she suggested. “I have my next slot open too. I could wait.”

“Get fucked,” Ronan said and Adam pretended like he didn’t notice all the bravado in his voice as they shook their hands apart. “We said we were doing it this way. We’re doing it this way.”

“He just doesn’t want anyone to talk him out of his tatt,” Ronan’s artist said. “It’s pretty out there.”

“If you make my boyfriend puke, I’ll kick your ass,” Ronan warned.

“If Devon gave his blessing, how bad can it be?” Mae said, for Adam’s benefit. When the guy who’d done Ronan’s original tattoo had given his own for this guy to do the addition, half of Adam’s worries had disappeared. Well, until this afternoon when they’d piled into the car and it all became much more real.

Adam took a deep breath and his worries were side tracked as Ronan reached over to muss his hair roughly and then grinned at him. “Catch you later, handsome.”

“Only if you’re lucky,” Adam responded with his own grin. They knocked their fists together and Adam followed Mae back to her work space.

“Alright, Adam, you can leave your jeans over there. Didn’t I tell you to wear sweats?” she asked as she prepared her space.

“Yeah, but it would’ve given it away,” Adam said with a shrug. “I told you, I can handle pain and irritation. We’re not that far from y’all anyway. I’ll change when I get home.”

Mae hummed and tossed Adam what looked like a sock. “Put it on now,” she suggested. “We’re gonna have to get pretty far down your groin and I don’t want you fumbling with it while there’s ink on you.”

Adam stared at it for a second and felt a jolt of regret. But he shook it off and reached into his boxers to fit the not-sock over his length. It was awkward and heavy but welcome. He wanted to be the cool suave guy who didn’t care what people saw, but he was decidedly not that guy and he really liked Mae, so keeping her sanity intact was important to him too.

He hopped up on the chair when Mae motioned for him to and pushed his boxers down as far as he was willing to. “I’m gonna shave you first,” Mae explained, not for the first time. “And then sterilize the area. No need to jump yet.”

And, really, by the time it was all said and done, the pain was no more than he was used to. Just a bit sharper and longer laster. Some spots hurt worse than others, but he’d been prepared for that. Mae had really, really, really tried to talk him out of his placement for a first tattoo, but it was the only one he was getting and it meant something and he wanted it where he wanted it. Which, he guessed, Mae understood because she didn’t argue with him again after that.

She did snigger when he didn’t bother trying to button his jeans though, which he defended with an exasperated, “How was I supposed to know?!” and wave of his arm, to which she responded by handing over an aftercare book and sending him back to Ronan’s waiting arms in the parlor.

They lasted eighteen hours before they were pulling each other’s clothes off under the guise of helping put cream and ointments and new bandages on. Adam found the mess of bandages on Ronan’s side, just below his ribs, wrapping around his waist. When he uncovered it, he found more black ink in bold strokes, like the rest of his tattoo. At first, Adam thought there was only more vines, intricate roots continuing from the tree, but once his eyes adjusted, he realized it was a man--a magician.

“Is this my card?” he asked, ghosting his fingers featherlight over the tattoo.

Ronan still sucked in a soft breath, though it was up for debate if he was in pain or if it was the normal way he gasped any time Adam was near him. “Yeah, it’s your Magician,” he said. “My magician.”

Adam was wrong, it wasn’t just black. There were faint green lines, so immediately different from the rest of the tattoo that Adam couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it. They made vines tumbling out of the Magician’s hands, pooling around his feet and sneaking into the rest of the tattoo.

When Adam traced them, Ronan said, “Because you’re interwoven with me. All of me.”

“Not going anywhere,” Adam promised, leaning up to kiss Ronan.

Ronan found Adam’s bandages when his hands went to Adam’s hips and he barely paused before hoisting Adam up to carry him towards the bed and dump him backwards onto it, much to Adam’s fond delight. Ronan crawled over his thighs and leaned down to kiss his way down Adam’s chest to his stomach as his hands gently pulled at the sweats he’d been living in.

Ronan’s mouth suddenly leaving the flushed skin of Adam’s lower abdomen had the man keening in response, legs pushing against the cool sheets of their bed helplessly. “Ro,” he whined and turned his face towards his arm, fingers tightening in his own hair. 

“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Parrish,” Ronan breathed, fingers brushing the clean edges of Adam’s hips, away from his tattoo.

Adam lifted his head lazily, gazing down at the span of his body. The critical gaze he’d cultivated as a lonely teenager had been washed away years ago by a habit of looking at his body the way Ronan might be seeing it. Right now, it looked like familiar tan skin, cuts of muscle, scars that he was beginning to look over without pausing. Then, at his hips, a bouquet of color.

Bouquet was the proper term too. Blooming over his hip bones and continuing down his adonis lines were stalks of lavender, bushels of baby’s breath, and rich green vines with thick ivy leaves. Even through the bruising, the colors were exactly how he wanted them to be.

"When I gave myself over to Cabeswater, my nightmares got worse. But Cabeswater was always there to soothe the tension almost immediately. I'd get wrapped up in the forest and always the first thing it held were my hips, to keep me still, I guess. And my hips are always the first thing you grab too, whether it's falling in bed or being jolted awake in the middle of the night. So I wanted to remember that. Even when I'm waking up alone, I have magic. I have you."

Ronan’s thumb glanced over one side of the tattoo and he let out a shaky breath, hungry eyes flicking between the tattoo and Adam’s face.

“You really know a thing or two about product placement, huh?” he asked and Adam laughed breathlessly, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Just kiss me, asshole.”

And Ronan did.

[grandmasterofwangxiancultivation]

you were the ones I was meant to find - Lan SiZhui birthday event!

Sooooo, I did a thing.

It’s ot3.

And our main voice is, of course, the birthday boy, Lan SiZhui! HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY! It took me a bit to write/finish this, but I managed! You can read it as standalone or go first for my previous ot3 one shot here, to understand a bit better.

Enjoy or ignore this post :3 | Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Rating: Teen and Up Audience Prompt: Happiness and Family for mdzsnetwork event @modaozushi Pairing: OT3! Jin Ling/Lan SiZhui/Lan JingYi Additional tags: canon Universe, polyamory, disciples ot3, fluff Summary: It wasn't the same without Jin Ling, of course.  They missed him terribly, bones aching with every day spent in his absence -the newly found intimacy of whispers and caresses in the night, the warmth of his body close to theirs, the gleaming look he gave them that morning, when they all woke up in the same bed, thinking this is it, this is right, this is peaceful and electrifying and perfect.

Read under the cut or ao3.

It took them more than a week to organise another night-hunt. Letters were sent back and forth from Cloud Recesses to Koi Tower in elegant writings and concealed words, trepidation locked in the hearts of their authors but hands steady and firm in their movements and intentions.

A comforting thought, to know that they wanted to meet again within the shortest possible time.

The Lan disciples would carry out their duties diligently, mindful of their cultivation and abilities, maintaining a concentration that kept slipping through their fingers every time a detail or the sight of something specific reminded them of that unfilled hole in their chest.

In those moments, profoundly aware of their surroundings and minding that they were alone, JingYi would glance swiftly around them, making sure no one was watching, and then entwine one, two fingers with SiZhui's with delicacy, the smirk on his lips a contrast that made the other boy blush and smile secretively.

They would find a secluded spot between trees and bushes, and SiZhui would indulge in the mischievous glint in JingYi's eyes as he pushed the shorter boy gently against a trunk, large enough to hide their figures, and kiss him until both their trembling legs couldn't sustain them anymore, numb and shaky like their arms and breathes.

The risk of being seen wasn't high -they never ventured in the patrolled areas, nor went out at night, mindful of the essential rules of their clan. But there was no way they could keep their hands to each other when they were alone, lulled by the mountains’ wind threading through the leaves, silencing every thought in their heads, making them shift closer and closer until they were already kissing by the time reason came back to them.

It wasn't the same without Jin Ling, of course.

They missed him terribly, bones aching with every day spent in his absence -the newly found intimacy of whispers and caresses in the night, the warmth of his body close to theirs, the gleaming look he gave them that morning, when they all woke up in the same bed, thinking this is it, this is right, this is peaceful and electrifying and perfect. They had gazed at each other with both the dizziness of being still half asleep in a wonderful dreamland and the awareness that came with the brightness of a new day -that bittersweet reality made of goodbyes, unavoidable but not final.

It had been only one night, but it burned vividly and unscathed in their memories -how in the light and in the dark, Jin Ling had been painfully beautiful and felt scarily afar, untouchable even though they were in the same room.

They loved how at ease their minds and hearts got while they had been together, like nothing could go wrong in the world as long as they held onto each other, and without the Lanling disciple… it was too silent, the sensation of missing too imposing, innatural.

SiZhui and JingYi wanted to see him, so they asked for another night-hunt and got cleared to go a week and a half after the last one.

The memory of that event was still fully present in everyone's head -SiZhui had seen, coming back to Gusu, the blatant relief in Brother Wei's eyes when he had walked toward him and Lan Wangji without so much of a limp or hesitation, letting them know that everything was alright, that he was okay and happy to be home again.

The brush of a hand on his hair, another on his shoulder, and he had felt his heart beat in delight, the warmth of a dream long forgotten and suddenly resumated still sweet on the tip of his tongue, the ground on which he walked solid and reassuring like when Lan WangJi used to stand behind him and teach him how to play the guqin.

Only better, because Senior Wei was there as well. It was hard to call them in a way different from what they had always been, but sometimes he relished in dreams where he called them Father and Dad. It was okay as it was, though -their worrying warmed his heart in a way very few things in his life managed to do.

Sometimes, Lan SiZhui would look at the adoration mildly sparkling in WangJi’s eyes and the mirth and joy shimmering in Brother Wei’s while they are too absorbed in each other to care about people detecting those gazes, and think I want that, too with such a fierce longing and hollowness in his chest that left him feeling bad for days, as if the envy churning in his stomach was an unspeakable sin, something he ought to feel ashamed for.

Now…

He turned on his side, giving his back to the sky through the window he was absentmindedly looking at.

Blood raced in his veins, breath stuck in his throat once again, and he had to swallow a couple of times before he could settle comfortably on the pillow and watch.

JingYi laid on his back, forehead ribbon-free and hair sprawled all over the thin mattress of the room they were occupying while taking care of their mission. His lips were slightly parted, air puffing in and out through them, creating an endearing sight that made SiZhui’s heart flutter wildly. It wasn’t the first time he saw JingYi like this. The boy liked napping next to him, lulled to slumber by SiZhui playing for him during his solo exercise with the guqin. He could clearly remember the consistency of his hair through his fingers -no, they ached to do just that.

On his chest, Jin Ling's slim form was draped above him like a blanket, hair cascading all over them like the finest silk, legs intertwined, the Lan boy's arm circling his waist while the other's right hand was hiding under his shoulder.

He loved looking at them -it was a weakness both he and JingYi shared, it seemed, SiZhui knew from their many talks in the secret corners they claimed for themselves in Cloud Recesses, away from vigil eyes.

(He still remembered when JingYi first confided it, settled on his bed, arms folded under his chin as he cheerfully stared at him, saying I have always watched you two from afar with a fascination in his eyes SiZhui had felt deeply mirrored in his heart.)

His irises probably had a certain wavering quality in the way they were fixated on the scene, as if scared of missing even a single detail. SiZhui was sure, if only he had the possibility of observing himself from the outside in that exact moment, he would probably be reminded a bit of his fathers.

Never had he felt so blessed -or maybe he was just a hopeless romantic, having grown up with stories of fated partners and dual cultivation while growing up in accordance with the Lan rules. In the end, there had been no truer love story than that of Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian as a role model, for him.

He caught a movement with the corner of his eyes.

The Lanling boy was wiggling a bit, sinking in JingYi’s embrace, tucking his nose into his collarbone. Their inner vests slid along their skin, the warmth of the night preserved by their closeness, and SiZhui shifted and bit his lip, embarrassment crawling up his face.

He didn’t avert his eyes, though.

Jin Ling's eyes scrunched a little. A couple of minutes later, they opened, still clouded by sleep but vigil enough to make him instinctively relax at the sight of SiZhui’s gaze locked on him. He smiled, drowsy, eyelids only halfway open.

SiZhui’s pulse leaped up.

“A-Yuan” Jin Ling murmured, making his hand slide on the sheets until it reached his and squeezing it lightly. “Awake already?”

It took SiZhui a while to take the words out of his head and through his mouth.

“I- yes. We rise at five, it’s just… a bit earlier than that” seemed like a good explanation. Jin Ling's lips cracked in a knowing smirk and SiZhui giggled and sent JingYi’s still sleeping face a look.

“Did you watch us until now?”

Not one for lying, SiZhui sputtered and flushed once more, before replying bashfully: “I, uhm, I did, yes”

Jin Ling's eye lit up in awareness, a spark lightning his gaze in that dangerous, obstinate way of his.

SiZhui shivered.

“Come closer?” the boy proposed, tugging him in by his hand, still wrapped in his fingers.

There was no way SiZhui could say no, and he shifted, wary of his building desire to touch the other. He came so close that his arm brushed JingYi’s even when he tried to be mindful of him.

Jin Ling tipped his head to the side, hair following his will and dropping like a curtain, almost inviting SiZhui to run his fingers between every strand -he felt them itch, and clenched his fist for a couple of seconds.

“Is JingYi comfortable?” he asked softly, to distract himself.

Jin Ling huffed to hide the self-consciousness he felt from being reminded of his position.

“He is” came in a mumble, pink lightly dyeing his neck and noble cheekbones. He lowered his face on JingYi’s naked chest and briefly closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

“We talked about you two, yesterday, while you were downstairs with the other disciples” he admitted bashfully.

“Oh, really?” SiZhui managed to say, surprised, head turning and gazing intently at the ceiling.

“Mh” Jin Ling confirmed, his eyes never leaving his form. “He told me how you spent your days in Cloud Recesses, and how much you insisted for this night-hunt” he added, fiddling a bit with JingYi’s robe.

“W-Well, we both wanted to arrange this as soon as possible-”

“-for me” Jin Ling promptly interrupted, and then blushing heavily at inference and force of his words, eyebrows frowning in obstinacy.

“I-I mean, I knew since we have been exchanging letters and planning this for days and I wanted to see you both so much as well-” he stuttered, reluctant to give away the truth and, at the same time, eager to provide a good explanation, avoiding his gaze with embarrassment clear in his voice and irises.

What he said, though, was enough to put a wide, brilliant smile of SiZhui’s face, his features brightening in pure joy, eyes gleaming and complimenting the healthy reddish glow on his cheeks.

In that moment, he felt everything surrounding him all at once -the wind coming through the window, the soft noise from the outside, of people awakening slowly and getting ready for the day, and from the inside, early riser and attendants, probably.

The gentle embrace of sheets half covering him, the protective layer of his inner robe, the warmth that was not only his own, but came from the other two bodies on the bed -and those two bodies, entangled together, bathed in the incoming morning light, a sight so precious and breathtaking, which SiZhui would love to wake up to everyday-

Startled, his smile vanished and he couldn’t manage to look at Jin Ling anymore -but his eyes dropped on his parted lips, and the tenderness of his feelings spiralled away from his thoughts in seconds, a denser, still new sensation invading all his senses.

Jin Ling knew what that heated gaze was hiding -he had been hinting at it, wanting it, desiring it, trying to make himself inviting enough to have SiZhui’s eyes on him like that, with that same barely repressed fervor and an underlying crave matched only by his own. The Lanling boy wasn’t one to sit still or keep quiet when he wanted something, and that hanging, infinite moment wouldn’t be an exception.

He leaned forward, shifting from JingYi’s chest slowly until he could stretch his arms over SiZhui, a hand planted next to his shoulder and the other stroking the Lan boy’s untied hair with nothing short of wonder and resolve in his flaming golden irises.

“Let me kiss you?” he murmured, resolut but coy, fingertips hovering against his temple with vibrating impatience.

“A-Ling” SiZhui could only say, eyes wide and shiny, consent blatant and unequivocal in the loging, aching tone of his voice, in the way his arms reached for Jin Ling as the younger boy descended on him, eager but careful, plenty aware of his lack of experience.

Their lips met and everything in SiZhui shattered, tension leaving his body and building up again. His skin flared fiercely and indomitable as Jin Ling’s tentative, curious lips mapped his own, caressing them with timidity steadily forgotten. Sizhui’s were a bit dry, so he couldn’t help but moan gratefully when Jin Ling licked and nipped at them, a hand coming up to SiZhui’s cheek to keep him immobile while he was exploring.

He didn’t dare move, but every part of his body was visibly quivering.

Jin Ling tried again -his mouth covered his and he breathed SiZhui in, moving his lips with a delicacy that reminded him so much of the Lanling boy and the few, intimate moments their shared.

Now he could add another one.

SiZhui felt like he had given him enough time to taste the thrill of kissing someone -he loved those gentle attention and wanted nothing more than for Jin Ling to be comfortable with him.

He lifted a hand, threading it through his hair and pressing down, making their lips connect a bit more decisively. Jin Ling muffled a startled cry, fingers going down to grip SiZhui on his shoulder, his arm. The Lan boy, smirked and tipped his chin up, poking at those lips with his tongue and nuzzling them with slow, calculated strokes.

SiZhui was no expert in matters regarding the physical side of a relationship, but he and JingYi had been kissing for days, and he -them- had wanted nothing more than to do the same with Jin Ling.

Albeit younger, the Lanling boy didn’t shy away from SiZhui’s throughout attentions -he eagerly draped himself all over the other, opening his mouth gently and groaning satisfactory at the feeling of having him so close, tongue brushing against his, mouths fitting perfectly, breathes mingling and barely keeping up with their racing hearts.

SiZhui flipped him on his back, hands gripping his hips and lips parting once more as the kiss deepened to a soothing, pleasant pace, cosy and slow and a bit off, marked by their inexperience, but all the more exciting for that exact reason. Jin Ling’s fingers trembled as they grazed the skin of the Lan boy’s chest and both painted at the sensation, drifting apart but remaining close, noses brushing against one another.

There weren’t words suitable enough to describe how painstakingly beautiful Jin Ling was like that -how delectable and delicate and alluring and desiderable he was, how much restrain SiZhui had to exercise to bring himself not to go any farther than that.

“SiZhui, JingYi told me that today is-”

“So eager for five in the morning, you two.”

The both jumped at the sound of JingYi’s voice, turning with a hint of embarrassment clear on their faces to look at him.

The other Lan boy appeared smug and amused, with his head propped up on his elbow as if his was enjoying the show -he probably was, if the glint in his eyes was anything to go by. He didn’t lose a moment to get closer and reach for SiZhui, pulling him between him and Jin Ling with a subtle laugh.

“What Jin Ling was going to say-”

“-ehi!”

“-is happy birthday.”

“But I wanted to say that!”

“You were too busy eating up his face! Sorry, beautiful mistress” JingYi winked, and Jin Ling appeared conflicted, stammering while his face went crimson from elation and fury.

“You--!”

SiZhui muffled a laugh and pulled them in a tight embrace, making them all tumble on the wide bed. Kissed them both, calming their spirited words and intense glares, settling with Jin Ling monopolising him by laying down on his chest again -it seemed like that was his favorite spot then the Lan boys were concerned- and JingYi wrapped on his side, playing with his hair and whispering in his ear if he had something to say.

He felt like that simple, quiet moment had the potential to fill him up and making him never sense cold again.

“I’m so happy I got to share this with you” he said, Jin Ling and JingYi’s smiles the best gifts he could ask for, forever stored in the depths of his heart.

[littlemulattokitten]

Heyyy. Can I also get a 72 tomione please?

72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

He almost hadn’t showed.

Frankly, he was still debating turning around and going back home. They hadn’t canceled their usual date night, if only because they hadn’t spoken since The Fight That Still Stung to Think About. 

But then he saw her at the bar, facing him, but focused intently on her drink — a creme soda of some sort from what he could tell. She looked to be hiding as much misery as he was. And she’d showed up.

Surely their attendance said more than either would ever figure out how to voice. If he walked over, sat down, and they managed to find their way into safe conversation territory then that would count as an unspoken apology. She’d let him apparate them home, they’d make up, and figure out where they stood in the aftermath of everything.

It really had gotten out of hand. Insecurities and nerves and stress had cultivated and been topped with a generous handful of shite timing. The fault and lack of fault between them was equally split, as far as he was concerned. All Tom wanted to do was erase the last week from their lives and move forward.

With that thought in mind, he moved towards her. He only slowed when someone moved to stand in the empty space next to her seat. Only fools and gentleman tried to strike up conversations with women looking as discontent as she was. Tom knew which camp McLaggen fell into, despite having graduated Hogwarts several years ahead of the sod.

There was only a fissure of anxiety in him at the sight of someone else chatting up Hermione, and only because the last week made him truly fear losing her for this first time in years. Would McLaggen be the one to pull her away? Certainly not. But someone else could, especially while she was cross with him. Or so he worried.

He crept closer through the crowd, eyeing McLaggen closely. His eyes kept flicking to Hermione’s curls, which were mostly held back by the beanie Tom bought her two autumns ago. The gift was meant to ease her yearly lament about the wind taking control of her curls, making it impossible to wear her hair down even though it helped her stay warm to do so.

She looked just as adorable in it now as she always had.

Only now he could see McLaggen’s desire to reach out and feel the feather soft curls that didn’t belong to him.

“I will knock you flat on your arse if you even think about it,” Tom said darkly. 

The hand MgLaggen had started to raise froze a few inches away from his side as the blond turned to give him an unimpressed glare.

“And you are?” the chump asked arrogantly.

Tom’s mind short-circuited for all of a few milliseconds, even if it felt like an eternity. What was his title now? He wore the ring she’d thrown at him, tears rushing down her flushed cheeks as she gave him the most depressing glare he’d ever seen on anyone, around his neck on the same chain as his family ring. They were tucked under his shirt. Had he been demoted back to boyfriend? Was she already lost to him?

“He is the fiancé,” Hermione said cooly, her tired eyes and unimpressed stare aimed at Cormac. “Allow me to introduce the two of you. Cormac, fiancé. Fiancé, the tosser quidditch jock who harassed me most of sixth and seventh year.”

Tom felt his most predatory and condescending smirk curl his lips as he stepped closer to his witch and loosely wrapped his arm around her waist — just in case. They still needed to talk.

“A pleasure,” Tom lied, immediately switching his attention to Hermione. “You’re early.”

She shrugged. “I had time to kill.”

Across from them, McLaggen shifted uncomfortably and made to escape. “See you around, Granger,” he managed, then fled.

“Like hell you will,” Tom muttered.

Hermione snorted softly beside him as he took the space McLaggen vacated. 

Going against his better judgment, Tom decided there was one thing in particular that he needed to get off his chest now even if they didn’t talk things over properly until later. Assuming she talked to him at all.

“I was a complete arse,” he said lowly. “I didn’t— I shouldn’t’ve—”

He slowly exhaled, trying to steady himself as he reached out to take her hands and rest them against the tops of her thighs.

“Keep the baby,” he said quietly. “If you really want it, keep it. I’ll...we’ll figure it out. We’ll make it work somehow.”

When she didn’t immediately respond he risked meeting her eyes only to find them glassy. Her hands trembled in his.

“I...” she began, the syllable catching in her throat. She swallowed. “I lost it.”

Tom blinked, uncomprehending for a solid ten seconds before his blood ran cold and his ears started to ring. “W...what?” 

She stared at their hands. 

“When?” he asked. It couldn’t have been today. She’d look unwell if it had happened today, surely. 

A soul-shattering thought slammed into his head and made him dizzy.

“Is it...is it my fault?” he whispered hoarsely.

Hermione swallowed back tears again before attempting to speak. “Day before las—” She pressed her lips together tightly, unable to continue speaking for several moments. “It wasn’t,” she eventually managed. “Wasn’t your fault. Or mine. I only found out the day before I told you. Between work, planning the wedding...everything, I was too stressed. She was already weak when I found out. I just hoped that by quitting the Ministry...if things settled down...”

Tom’s heart pounded so hard, yet so slow, that he wondered how he was still conscious. 

“Why didn’t you...” He stopped long enough to make sure there wasn’t an accusation in his tone. “Why didn’t you send for me? Floo, owl, anything, Dove. Even if I...at the time wasn’t excited about the idea—” Understatement of the century, he knew. “—that doesn’t mean I would’ve expected you to go through something like that alone.” 

I wouldn’t be trying to marry you if I wasn’t willing to hurt with you, he almost said. Later. They couldn’t stay in the noisy pub much longer before the started to stand out amongst the sea of vibrantly energetic patrons.

“Come home.” He hated the waver in his voice, but they couldn’t talk about this properly here. “Come home, let me run you a bath, pick up some take away, and hold you.”

Some of his tension fell away when she nodded and allowed him to guide her outside. 

“Takeaway first?” she murmured. 

“Of course,” he said, pulling her snugly against his side as they walked. Another heart-twisting thought crossed his mind. “When was the last time you ate a proper meal?”

She only turned her head up so she could meet his eyes. The life and spark in hers that he knew so well was essentially snuffed out. 

He kissed the top of her head, calming himself by briefly drinking in the scent of her hair oils that clung to her beanie, and made a mental note to keep track of her food intake over the next few weeks.

Assuming she’d let him. 

They chose sandwiches from a sub shop on the magical side of London, giving Tom the chance to pull her into his arms for the first time in over a week. His shoulders loosened some more when she leaned into him, her head against his chest. But he froze when one hand came up and felt the outline of their rings through his shirt.

Summoning his pride, because courage was her thing, not his, he leaned back just enough to look at her. She didn’t look up, her haunted gaze fixed on the uneven shapes under his shirt.

“I shouldn’t have—” she started, cutting herself off. “I’m sorry.”

Tom swallowed. “If you want it, it’s yours,” he said. If you still want me hung between them. “You’re the only person in the world I wouldn’t hold that against, Dove, you know that.”

She hid her face in his neck, standing up on the toes of her boots to wrap her arms around his neck. And he held her just as tightly. A small part of him, what little remained of the lonely boy in the orphanage, was convinced that if he didn’t hold on she’d slip away.

The wizard who’d set fire to anyone who tried to stand in between them settled with holding her hand when their order was called, and mentally shifted gears. He took them home, back to the manor he’d been living in alone for a week, and made sure his witch was fed. While she was in the bath, he revisited his existing plans for their future and tweaked them bit by bit.

His witch hadn’t known it herself until this little incident, but she wanted something of a family eventually. Tom could work with that if she stayed. He’d get used to it.

And while he didn’t want his witch to be hurting for the loss of something they nearly had, he was relieved to have longer than seven months to sort out just how he was going to make the offspring variable sit right in his head.

Send me a pairing and a number and I'll write you a drabble. Or whatever the hell comes to mind, lord knows I can’t follow instructions or half-ass anything

[mldrgrl]

36 and Four Minutes

by: mldrgrl Rated: PG-13 Summary: Based off a psychological study I read about a husband and wife team who attempted to create love in a lab.  This is set the night before The Unnatural and hopefully acts as a precursor for the season of secret sex ;)

It had been a rough year, to say the least.  Mulder could not remember a time in his life where so many shitty things seemed to happen in such a short period of time.  The worst of it was, he could feel Scully slipping away from him, little by little.  It scared him, to be honest, and he did not behave well when he was scared, which pushed her even further away than she already was.  He needed something to bring them back together, to get them on the same page before Skinner took action and tried to send them to another team building seminar.  The last thing in the world he wanted to do was attend a team building seminar, and he was fairly certain he was not going to find another pair of mothmen to get them out of it a second time should they be forced to go.

He learned about the study from one of his chats with Karin Berquist, of all people.  Though the reclusive and anti-social dog behaviorist put all her energy into canine studies, that was not how she began her career.  She told him to look up Arthur Aron’s 36 questions, which he did, and the study of lab-generated intimacy seemed like it would be the perfect tool to strengthen the bonds of his partnership, but first he had to get Scully on board, and that would be no easy task.  She wasn’t really talking to him all that much since Phillip Padgett wreaked his havoc on their lives.

Getting her out of the office was essential.  He didn’t want to be interrupted by work and he needed her to have her guard down a little.  He thought about surprising her at home, but she wasn’t too keen on surprises and treated him with suspicion when he showed up at her door.  Of course, every time he had shown up at her door unannounced, he always brought work with him, so she had every right to be suspicious.  On Friday night, he took a shot in the dark while she was shutting down her computer for the day.

“You wanna grab a beer with me?” Mulder asked.  He had come around to the front of his desk and rocked forward and back against the chair there as he watched her pack up.

“Now?” she answered, zipping up her bag.  “I’ve got some things I need to do.”

“Now?”

“Yes.  I’ll see you Monday.”

“What kind of things?”  

“Mulder.”

He let go of the chair and moved towards her to help her with her overcoat.  “Things I could help with?”

“Laundry.”

“Scully, it’s Friday night.  Don’t tell me you’re turning me down for dirty clothes.”

“There’s also soe cleaning I need to do and catching up on JAMA.”

“Now I’m hurt.”

“It’s not about you, Mulder.”

The fleeting glance up at him she gave said otherwise and it made him even more determined to get her to come out with him.  He had done some asshole things over the years and left her behind at times, chosen other options because he thought they were more important in the moment, but never did he do it because he simply didn’t want to be in a room with her, like she was doing now.  It stung.

“Dinner is included,” he said, careful to keep all traces of desperation out of his voice.  “My treat of course.”

“Look, I just…”

“...have better things to do?”  He swallowed and then nodded, unintentionally playing into her sympathies as he slowly trudged back to his desk.  “Some other time then.  Have a nice weekend.”

“Mulder…”

“Yeah?”

“One beer.”

Once he had her on the hook, he sweetened the deal ever further by taking her to a bar he’d dropped in on a few times that was by her apartment.  It had a relaxed atmosphere, served food, and he’d never seen it busy.  They both parked in front of her building and walked the few blocks over to the little hole in the wall.  They hung their jackets on a rack by the door and Mulder rolled up his shirtsleeves as he straddled a barstool at the far end of the bar.  

At the other end of the bar sat two older men, engrossed in conversation.  Behind them, in the middle section of a row of three booths, a man and woman sat together, also engrossed in conversation.  At the back near the restrooms, a jukebox played at a pleasant volume, only loud enough to keep the conversations private.

So few and far between were patrons, the bartender had been lounging at his station reading a paperback.  He had hopped to attention when the door scraped closed behind them and approached their corner with coasters and napkins at the ready.

“Shiner Bock,” Mulder answered when the kid, probably only just barely able to legally drink himself asked what he would have.

“Same for me,” Scully added.  “What are you reading?”

“Um, it’s called Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus,” the young man answered, opening their bottles.  “My girlfriend is making me read it.”

Mulder snorted softly.  “What was the fight about?”

“She says I don’t listen.  Well, she says I listen, but I don’t hear.”

“Could be an epidemic,” Scully said, inspecting a freestanding plastic menu on the countertop in front of her.

Mulder glanced her way and then raised his brows at the bartender.  The bartender raised his back as though he understood completely.

“Any advice?” the kid asked.

“She’d probably be the first to tell you that I’m the last person you should ask,” Mulder answered, tipping his head towards Scully as he took his first sip of his beer.

“Relationships are work,” Scully said.  “And they take time to cultivate.  Take your time and do the work.”

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Seven years,” Mulder answered, just as Scully also replied, “Oh, we’re just…”

“Then you must be doing something right.”  The kid glanced between the two of them and then straightened again.  “Would you like to order anything?”

“Chicken salad sandwich,” Scully answered.

“Burger, medium rare,” Mulder said.  After the kid walked away, Scully gave Mulder a bit of a scowl and he shrugged.  “What?” he asked.  “You walked into my office March of ‘92.  It is now March 26, 1999.  Happy late anniversary, honey.”  He held his beer out at a slight angle close to hers.

After a few moments, Scully actually picked up her bottle and tapped it against Mulder’s.  “I hadn’t even realized it’s been…that long.”

Mulder felt like this was the opening he’d been wanting.  He nodded a little and turned towards her on his stool.  “It is a long time.  And you know, if we go back to what you just said, relationships take time to cultivate.”

“Yes.”

“I read this study recently about an experiment a psychologist performed back in the ‘60s where he wanted to see if he could scientifically cultivate relationships within a lab.”

“That sounds absurd.”

“Well, it worked.”

Scully laughed lightly and took a pull from her beer.  “Worked how?”

“Their subjects were married within six months.”

“That’s not really proof of anything though.”

“Aren’t you curious how he did it?”

“You haven’t even told me what he did.”

“He developed a series of questions that people answer together and it can instantly bring two strangers into an intimate relationship.”

“Give me an example.”

Mulder took a sip of his beer and then held up a finger.  He backed off the barstool and went over to his jacket on the rack.  He fished out the paper that was folded in his breast pocket and went back to the bar.

“You have them with you?” Scully asked, raising her brow.

“You want to run our own experiment?” he answered.

“Let me see.”  She held out her hand for his paper, but he held it away.

“There are rules.  You can’t read them first.  We take turns doing the asking, but we both have to answer.”

“Where’s the experiment in it?”

“Either it’s cultivating, or it isn’t.”

“We’re not strangers, though.”

“No, but...how well do we really know each other?”

There was a look of both surprise and agreement in Scully’s eyes.  She took a long drink from her bottle and then placed it on the counter with extra care.  She wiped her knuckle across her bottom lip and the corner of her mouth.

“You don’t know what these questions are?” she asked.

“Nope.  I only read about the study.”

“What if there’s one we don’t want to answer?”

“I’m willing to answer all of them, whether I want to or not.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that, but alright.  I’ll play.”

Mulder smiled and unfolded the paper.  He grabbed a napkin from the bar and covered the printed list of questions so that they would stay hidden and then he placed the paper between them on the bar.

“Should we flip a coin to see who goes first?” he asked.

“Just start,” she answered.  “Before I change my mind.”

“Number one.  Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

“That’s easy,” she said, immediately after Mulder finished the question.  “Eleanor Roosevelt.”

“Oh, come on.”

“What?”

“You said once that you’d try to live in her body as a day, she can’t also be your answer for dinner guest.”

“Last I checked, there were no rules in this questionnaire.”

“Well, there is one rule, complete honesty.”

“And that is my honest answer.  Eleanor Roosevelt.”

“Why?”

“She was an amazing woman with an amazing life and I’d like to know more about her from her own mouth.  I would love to know how she accomplished all she did.  I think she’d be just about the most fascinating dinner guest I could ever hope for.”

“Okay, fine.”

“And what would be your answer?”

“The King, of course.”

“I guess I should’ve expected that.  Why, though?  Why Elvis and why not...why not George Hale?”

“George Hale?  Because I’m having a dinner party, not an astronomy symposium.”

“He’s got to be a better conversationalist though.”

Mulder made a noise of disagreement with his beer at his lips and shook his head.  “I beg to differ.  Elvis would have stories.  Why would I pick George Hale?”

“Wouldn’t you want someone more...intellectually stimulating?”

“I mean, it’s dinner, not a life partner.”

“Oh.”  Scully ducked her head a little and hid a smile in her beer.

“What?”

“Nothing.  That’s just...good to know.”

He passed the paper her way.  “Your turn.”

“Two.  Would you like to be famous?  In what way?”

Mulder screwed up his face a little.  “No.  But, I think the better question is, if I had to be famous for something, what would it be?”

“What would it be then?”

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a pro baseball player.  I wanted to play for the Yankees and I wanted to hold records and be in the baseball hall of fame.”

“Did you ever try to pursue it?”

“Nah.  It was just a dream.  It sort of died on the vine before I was even out of Little League.”

“You played Little League?”

“West Tisbury Diamondback, second baseman, number 14.”

Scully smiled as though she was picturing it.  “How old were you?”

“Six.  Six, I think, when I started.  I was nine when I quit.”

“Why?  You seem to really love it.  Even still.”

“Things were already kind of rocky at home by then.  It was just better if I...you know.”

“Oh.”

“So what about you?”

“No aspirations for fame.”

“But, if you had to be famous for something, what would it be?”

Scully took a few moments to think.  She started to answer, then hesitated, and started again after another few moments.  “I’d like to discover something,” she said.  “Be the first to...find a cure for something or...just something in that arena.”

Mulder got quiet and scratched at the label on his bottle.  “Like a cure for cancer?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“There’s still time.”

“No.  I can’t imagine being locked in a lab somewhere running endless amounts of tests.  No.”

He wanted to tell her that at least she’d be safe, but he knew she’d find it patronizing.  Truthfully, he couldn’t imagine Scully spending her days in a lab any more than she could.  But, really, he just didn’t want to imagine her anywhere but his side.

“Mulder?”

“What?”

“Your turn.”

“Right.  Three.  Before making a phone call, do you ever rehearse what you're going to say? Why?”

“Not now,” she answered.  “I don’t have time to think when I make a call, usually.”

“You said not now, was there ever?”

A smile bloomed on Scully’s face and the apples of her cheeks turned a rosy hue.  “There was one time, I was about twelve or so, and I kind of had my first crush.”

Mulder smiled as Scully was momentarily lost in the joy of her memory.  She laughed to herself for a few moments and tucked her hair back over her ears.  It was possibly the cutest thing he’d ever seen her do.

“I was sort of a tomboy growing up, you know?” she continued.  “So, I really didn’t...I wanted him to see me as more than the girl he rode his bike to the beach with.  And Melissa was the girliest girl I knew.  Plus, she’d already had at least five or six boyfriends that I knew of, so I went to her for help.”

“What was this kid’s name?”

“Mikey.”

“I’m guessing you called Mikey in a Cyrano-like scenerio.”

“That is exactly what I did.”

“And what happened?”

“Crashed and burned.  He kept asking me why I was being so weird and I was so mortified by the whole experience I cried into my pillow for the next week and refused to ride bikes with him again.”

“That is so sad.”

“It’s a good memory, though.”  Scully flashed a smile at Mulder.  “Missy felt terrible about it and it brought us closer.”

“I’m glad you have that.”

“Me too.  So, do you rehearse your calls?”

“When I was with the VCU, sometimes I found it easier to work off a script if I had to make difficult calls.  You know, if I had to question a grieving widow about her husband’s murder or a parent who just lost a child.  I found that...it didn’t really work though.  People are more responsive to authenticity.”

“I’ve always thought you were good with people.”

“You have?”  He paused with his nearly empty beer close to his mouth, genuinely surprised.

“Yes.”

“Being good with people is not something I’ve ever been accused of.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Mulder put his beer down and his brows came together.  He knew his shortcomings.  He had issues with authority.  He had no patience for arrogance or incompetence.  He was sometimes unduly antagonistic with suspects.  He truly didn’t understand how Scully could sit there and say he was good with people.

“You should see the look on your face right now,” Scully said.  

“I’m just a little...are you joking?”

“Are you really unaware of how compassionate you are?”

“I...um…”

A lull in the conversation followed.  Mulder stared at Scully and she stared at her beer.  They’d only made it through three questions and already she’d shocked him, and it was such an innocuous question at that.  He suddenly wished he’d read through all the questions so he could see what else might be coming.

“Number four,” Scully said, turning the paper towards her with her fingertips and breaking the silence.  “What would constitute a perfect day for you?”

Mulder blinked and cleared his head.  “Uh.  Um, I think, probably waking up to a sunny day, not too hot, maybe going for a nice run and finding a pick up game of basketball.  Ordering a really good pizza and watching the Yankees win the world series.  No, being at the game behind home plate.  That would be the perfect day.”

“I think the same as you, I’d like to wake up with the sun shining and a nice breeze.  I’d probably go to the beach and then have someone take me out in a sailboat for awhile.  I want to eat some really good seafood, sit in front of a bonfire for a bit, then end the day with a bubble bath and a glass of wine.”

“That sounds really nice.”

Scully shrugged.

“You want another beer?” he asked, noticing she was running low as he finished his.

“Sure.”

Mulder held up his beer bottle to get the bartender’s attention and then flashed two fingers at him.  The kid came back with two more beers and took their empty bottles away.

“Food should be ready in about five minutes or so,” the kid said.

“Do you have any chips or pretzels?” Scully asked.

“Sure.”

“Getting comfortable?” Mulder asked her.

“We’re only on question five and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not getting any laundry done tonight,” she answered, and then thanked the kid when he slid a bowl of pretzels onto the bar between them.  “Besides, if you’re buying, I might as well take advantage.”

Mulder chuckled and slid the paper back in his direction as she munched on a pretzel.  He then let out a full laugh when he read the next question and looked at her with a wide smile.

“When did you last sing to yourself?” he asked.  “To someone else?”

“You already know the answer to that question.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you answer anyway.  And I don’t know when the last time you sang to yourself was.”

“I don’t sing.  I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.  The last time I was forced-”

“No one forced you.  I made a very polite request which you were kind enough to comply with.”

“Shut up, Mulder.  You answer.”

“I sang in the shower this morning.  A very soulful rendition of Heartbreak Hotel that would make angels weep.”

Scully rolled her eyes.  “I’m sure.”

“And I don’t remember the last time I sang to someone.  But, if we’re ever lost in the woods again, I want you to know I’d happily sing you to sleep and I’ll even take requests.”

“That is exactly why we’re never going into the woods ever again.  Question six.  If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you choose?”

“Hm.  Hm.”  While Mulder was thinking about the question, their food was brought out.  They took a pause to arrange their plates and then he returned to his thoughts.  “So the problem is, this question assumes that there will be a decline both physically and mentally.  I’m not even actually really worried about either.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, I plan to be as handsome and brilliant at 90 as I am today.”

Scully, about to take a bite of her sandwich, burst out laughing and had to put the sandwich back down.  “That’s assuming you’re handsome and brilliant,” she said, wiping her greasy fingers with a napkin.

“Um, ouch.”

“You have to pick one.”

“Brains.”

“I think I would go with the body.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Don’t you remember that time on the Ardent?  If that’s what it feels like to be physically old, I’m choosing the body.”

“Damn, I’d forgotten about that.”

“Looks like you’re losing the brains already.”

“Har har.”  He gave her a fake glare before turning his attention to the next question.  He pursed his lips and glanced at Scully as she finally took a bite of her dinner.  “Um.  Number seven.  Do you...do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

“I don’t, remember?”

Mulder looked down at his burger.  “You don’t have to answer this one.”

“I think we’ve both come too close to death not to think about it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not something I like to think about.”

“Facing your own mortality is-”

“You, dying,” he interrupted.  “I don’t want to think about that.”

Scully wiped her fingers off with another napkin and then she turned herself towards Mulder and put a hand on his knee.  “I plan on going in my sleep, peacefully, a long time from now.”

“You can’t plan on that.”

“Don’t get maudlin on me.  Not when we’re having such a nice time.”

“You’re having a nice time?”

“I have free dinner, drinks, and good conversation.  I’m having a nice time, so tell me how you think you’ll die.”

Mulder laughed and she squeezed his knee before returning to her sandwich.  “I don’t know, but I’d like it to be the same as you.”

“You might want to think about that the next time you jump onto a moving train.”

“That’s why I need to keep my 30 year old brain intact to stop me from doing stupid things.”

“Hasn’t stopped you yet.”

“Touché.”  He lifted his beer at her in salute and then took a drink.

“Number eight.  Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.  Oh, I like this one.”

“I certainly didn’t think we had anything in common when we first met.”

“Well, we were both FBI agents.”  She smiled at him as she brought her sandwich up to her mouth.

“Let me think.”  He ate his burger, chewing slowly and washing down each bite with a sip of beer.  He watched Scully nibble on a slice of pickle that was laid out behind her sandwich.  

“Tick tock, Mulder.”

“Okay, we are both FBI agents.”

“Cheater.”

“We both like the same beer.  And we both prefer music over talk radio.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Don’t what?”

“Prefer music.”

“Really?  But…”

“I prefer that it keeps you occupied on long car rides.  You get antsy when we listen to talk radio.”

“I didn’t know that.  I thought that...I didn’t know you were being deferential.”

“It’s to save my sanity as much as yours.”

“We can listen to talk radio if you want.”

“Then I’d just miss out on your enthusiastic air guitar solos.”

Mulder actually felt himself blush at that.  Scully never seemed to pay that close attention to him, whether she was driving or engrossed in a casefile.  

“My turn,” she said.  “We both prefer driving over flying.  I think we are both good at what we do.   And we have both lost loved ones because of it.”

“I wish we didn’t have that in common.”

“I do too.”

Mulder nodded softly before he moved to the next question.  “Nine.  For what in your life do you feel most grateful?”

“That’s difficult.  I have a lot I’m grateful for.”

He left her to ponder while he ate his burger.  He was already low on his second beer, but he didn’t want another quite yet.  He didn’t intend to get drunk, and he didn’t want her to be either.  

“That I’m here,” Scully blurted suddenly.  “I am most grateful, above everything else, that I’m still here.”

“We can name that as another thing we have in common, because that’s my answer too.”  He looked at her hand where it rested on the bar and wanted to cover it with his, but he didn’t.

“10,” she said.  “If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”

“I wish I’d had parents that talked more.  To me and to each other.  You know, when it wasn’t silent, it was loud.  I never knew which was worse.”

“It was always loud at my house.  I used to wish for silences.  I wouldn’t trade that chaos now for anything, but I used to back then.  I guess I would’ve liked to have had my dad around a little more, but sometimes it was confusing when he was home.”

“How so?”

“My mother was a fairly typical woman of her time.  She was devoted to her church, her husband, and her children, in that order.  Most of the time, we saw her as a very capable, strong woman, until Ahab came home, and it was like he was the king and we were all his subjects.  It was easier adjusting to new schools and new neighborhoods than it was adjusting to a mom who suddenly answered all questions with ‘go ask your father.’  And while she was strict, she still never ran as tight of ship as Ahab.  Rules changed, bedtimes changed, everything changed in the weeks he’d be there.

“At first, when he’d come home, we were all pretty reverent.  Happy to see him, excited he was home, but the novelty wore off pretty quickly.  The thing is, he was used to sailors who snapped to attention when all he had to do was walk by.  He wasn’t accustomed to rowdy children who were different each time he returned.  He loved us, of course, and we loved him, but I don’t know that we ever really knew each other.”

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about your father.”

“That’s probably the most I’ve ever really talked about it.”

“What would you change then?”

Scully tilted her head and squinted her eyes closed for a bit.  “I think what I want, or what I would’ve wanted, is for my mother not to have made him so mythical.  And I would’ve liked for Ahab to have acknowledged her more as an equal partner.  Or even have acknowledged that she did more than he did.”

“They were happy though, weren’t they?”

“I think so.”

“Well, I think that counts for something.”  Mulder paused and snorted when he read the next question.  “Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.”

“This is a question that would probably be easier to answer if we were strangers.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I feel like I’d just be boring you with things you already know.”

“We could skip it, if you really wanted to.”

“It feels a little redundant, don’t you think?”

“Okay.  Well, go ahead with the next one then.”

“12.  If you could wake up tomorrow having gained one quality or ability, what would it be?”

“Easy.  I’ve always wanted to be able to be invisible at will so I can get into any place at any time.”

“I think they mean real ability though.”

“Why isn’t invisibility a real ability?”

“Because people can’t be invisible.”

“Oh, you really want to debate that?”

“Okay, okay.  Then I want the ability to know all languages.”

“I guess that would be kind of cool.  Not as cool as invisibility, but still.”  He leaned over to bump his shoulder with hers and she rolled her eyes.  “13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“I wouldn’t want to know the future, I know that much.”

“Why not?”

“It may not be something I like or want to hear.  I think I would like to know where…”  She stopped suddenly and sucked in her breath.  He put a hand on her back and leaned forward to look at her.  “I would like to know the truth of where Emily came from.”

“I’d like to know the truth about what happened to my sister.”

“Then again, Mulder, we may not like what we hear.”

He rubbed her back for a moment in a circle and then dropped his hand.  She gave him a small smile and looked at the paper.

“14,” she said. Is there something that you've dreamt of doing for a long time?  Why haven't you done it?”

“I did the thing I dreamed of doing a few years back.”

“What was it?”

“Visiting Graceland.”

“When did you visit Graceland?”

“Uh…”  He gave her a sheepish look.  “You were in Philly.”

“Ah.  Well, lately I’ve been thinking about taking a cooking class or dance lessons-”

“Dance lessons!  What kind of dance lessons?”

“Any kind.  Or a painting class.  Something that would put me in the world of other people doing normal things.  As to why I haven’t done it, who has the time?”

Mulder was already racking his brain.  It was too bad she didn’t mention wanting to learn baseball.  He could teach her how to hit and they’d probably both have a lot of fun with it.  She deserved some fun in her life.  He looked over at her and saw she had a smear of mayonnaise on her cheek.  Without thinking, he reached over and thumbed it off.  It brought back memories of eating ribs and barbecue sauce on the corner of her mouth.  She looked at him then like she was looking at him now, like a mixture of amusement and shyness, but she hadn’t pulled away then and she didn’t pull away now.  He thought again about how grateful he was that she was still there beside him.

“Have you had enough?” Scully asked.

“Hm?”

“It’s your turn to ask.”

“Oh.  15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

“Making it through the academy.  In some ways, it was harder than med school.”

“Physically?”

“Mentally.  Emotionally.  I was one of only four women in my class.  Two dropped out.”

“I never knew that.”

“Yeah, but I had the best shot out of all of them.  That sure pissed some of those guys off.”

Mulder laughed and unconsciously rubbed the bullet wound in his shoulder.

“What’s your biggest accomplishment?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What about the monograph that put away Monte Propps?  That had to be pretty satisfying, all that hard work and putting away a serial killer in the end?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It wasn’t satisfying?”

“I’d feel better about it if he hadn’t murdered 13 people first.”

“But your work stopped him from murdering even more.  And it brought closure to the victim’s families.  That has to mean something.”

“Alright, then that’s my biggest accomplishment.”

“It’s not about what I think though, Mulder, you’re supposed to tell me.”

He couldn’t tell her, though.  He couldn’t sit there and tell her that his greatest accomplishment was that he hadn’t succeeded in pushing her away.  So he just shrugged and agreed that Monte Propps was his greatest accomplishment and had to look away because he could tell she didn’t believe him.

“16,” she said, quietly.  “What do you value most in a friendship?”

“Loyalty,” he said.

“Honesty,” she countered, giving him a raised eyebrow, which he ignored.

“Number 17.  What is your most treasured memory?”

For a moment or two, Scully looked like she was going to call him out on the change of subject, but she relaxed the tight expression on her face and her eyes moved up in thought.  “My parents woke us up early one morning, before the sun was even up, put us in the station wagon and told us to just go back to sleep, we were going to visit a cousin of ours or something.  Turns out they were surprising us with a day at Disneyland.  Pulling into that parking lot I felt like I’d never been so excited for something in my life.”

“I guess a kid never forgets his first trip to Disneyland.”

“Did you ever go?”

“No.  We didn’t really do the family vacation thing.  Summer’s on the island, that was it.  Not that I’m complaining.  I had a lot of fun back then.”  He paused for a second.  “Actually, I’m going to say that my most treasured memory involved summer vacation.  I had my first kiss and the first time I held hands with a girl on the same day.”

“What was her name?”

“Jenny.  Jenny Johnson.  Her family lived on the island year round.  She had a sister Samantha’s age.  Becky, I think.  Or Betsy?  That I can’t remember, but she and Sam used to play together.  I had to watch Sam, Jenny had to watch her sister as well, so we ended up spending a lot of time together.  We got permission to take the girls to a carnival that was in town one day and, I took my chances and kissed her when we were on this haunted house ride.  Well, first I put my arm around her when she screamed, because I’m smooth like that.”

Scully laughed out loud against her beer bottle and stopped just before she took a drink.  “A real Don Juan at--how old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve.  Keep going, I want the full story.”

“Well, it was the kind of ride where things pop out at you and stuff and at first it was a lot of surprise, but then it was just kind of silly, so we were laughing and just before the ride ended, I could kind of see in the dark that we were headed for the doors, and I just...leaned in and kissed her.”

“And then?”

“And then we were temporarily blinded by the sun, but when she blinked at me, she looked like the happiest anyone had ever looked to me.  She grabbed my hand when we got out of the ride and we pretty much spent the rest of the day like that.”

“That isn’t really what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, but not a sweet little summer romance.”

“Little is right.  By the next day, all Sam could talk about was Fox and Jenny sittin’ in a tree, and I got pissed, and then Jenny got pissed that I was pissed and accused me of being embarrassed of dating an islander--I didn’t even know we were dating or what dating really was, and it that was pretty much the end of that.  But, that day at the carnival.  It was perfect.”

“I guess that’s a good segue into number 18.  What is your most terrible memory?”

“Ah, well.  I’m going to have to be predictable here and say the night Samantha...well…”

“Yeah.  And I’ll say when I found out Melissa…”

“Kind of a shitty thing to have in common.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re empty,” Mulder said, nodding at Scully’s beer as she tipped her head back and drained the rest.  “Another round?”

“I’ll pass.”

“If you change your mind, say the word.”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

“19.  If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?  Why?”

Scully went quiet, her thumb circling the lip of her empty beer bottle.  Her gaze seemed to lack direction, like she was staring at nothing.  The silence was so prolonged, Mulder became attuned to the jukebox again.  Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams was playing.

“Bet you wish you had that third beer,” he said, uncomfortable with the stall in conversation.

A small smile lifted the corners of Scully’s lips, but she still didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to answer this one if you don’t want to,” Mulder said.

“I’ll answer.  I’m just forming my thoughts.”

“Take your time.”

Another bout of silence passed and finally Scully sighed.  “When I thought that I was going to die, when the cancer...when I thought I wouldn’t make it out of the hospital, I tried to make peace with the things I would never do.  I didn’t want to leave this world with regrets.  So, I...I wrote letters.  To my mother.  To my brothers.  To...you.  And then I realized how unfair that was, how selfish it was to write the things down I could never say, but not let you do the same.  So, I tore them all up.”

His curiosity was instantly piqued.  “What did they say?”

“Maybe if there’s a question in there about things unsaid, I’ll tell you.  But, to answer this question, when I found out I was in remission, that I was going to be fine, I told myself it was a second chance at some of those things I’d always wanted to do.  It’s been, what, two years?  I don’t think I’ve done any of them.”

“Let’s change that.  Let’s do something on your list.”

“Maybe none of it was as important as I thought it was, if I haven’t done them yet.  Or maybe I just didn’t learn the lesson.  No, I don’t think I would change anything about the way I’m living now.  I’m happy enough with...everything.”

It was the ‘happy enough’ that struck Mulder.  He had a notion that there might be one or two things she would change that she was holding back on, but he wasn’t going to push.  It was a difficult question to answer and he was struggling himself to come up with something to say.

“All that really matters is whether or not I was a good person,” Scully continued.  “Right?  To...to God, to those left behind.  That’s what’s going to matter in the end.  Not whether or not I...I don’t know, walked the great wall of China or something.”

“Is that on your list?”

“No.”  Scully laughed.  “I was trying to think of a common bucket list item for most people.”

“I feel like the most common bucket list item would be jumping out of an airplane.”

“Okay, then.  Is that really going to matter down the line?”

“Probably not.  But, you’ll have a good story for the grandkids.”

“Ah, well.”

As soon as he said it, Mulder felt like an ass.  He meant it as a figure of speech, but he realized too late that it would bring up some unpleasant truths.  Scully would never have grandkids - unless by some miracle.  And she didn’t even know the whole story.  He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably.

“Uh, I think I’d do some things differently,” he said.

“Such as?”

“Get out of the office more.  Do something fun on a Saturday night that doesn’t involve the gunmen starting arguments in internet chat rooms.”

“Is that what you guys do on the weekend?”

“Not every weekend.”

“Mulder, that’s just sad.”

“And what’re you doing on a Saturday night, Miss Scully?  Laundry?”

“Alright, we both need lives.”

“I’d toast to that, but I’m out of beer, and I need to hit the head anyway.”  He slid off the barstool and looked to the kid who was filling a drink order at the other end of the bar.

“You want me to order you another?”

“No, I’m good.  Be right back.”

Mulder quickly used the restroom and stared at his reflection in the spotted, foggy mirror as he washed his hands.  This was the most he’d ever really talked with Scully and he was enjoying himself.  He wondered if he could find a way to make it a regular thing.  Maybe then his Saturday nights wouldn’t feel so empty.

When he came back to the bar, he slowed his step.  The remnants of their food had been taken away and there was a glass of iced tea in front of his seat.  Scully looked like she was nursing a diet Coke.

“Didn’t want you to get parched,” she said, as he took a seat.

“Thanks.”

“So.  Number 20.  What does friendship mean to you?”

Mulder squeezed the wedge of lemon perched on the side of his glass into his tea.  He thought about the gunmen, who he spent Saturday nights with or came to for help with technological problems, but didn’t confide all that much in.  He thought about passing friendships he’d had in school or in the early days of work, people he went out for occasional beers with, but never saw outside the bullpen.  And he thought about Scully, who he felt knew him inside and out and never held things he might have said in the heat of the moment against him, and ordered him iced tea because he might get thirsty.

“I guess it means everything to me,” he said.  “I don’t know what I would do without…”  He stopped short of specifying Scully by name, but by that point he was only thinking about his relationship with her.  “Without someone to talk to,” he finished.

“Someone to rely on,” she said.

“Exactly.  What about you?”

“That’s my answer.  It means someone to rely on.  I think everyone needs that in their life.”

“Agreed.  21.  What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

Scully snorted and spoke into her glass.  “Not nearly enough as I’d like.”

“Which part?”

“Both.”  She sighed.  “No, that’s not true.  There is love in my life, though I’ll admit I could do better at it.  And affection...is something I think I’ve always struggled with.  I don’t dislike it, I’ve just never been very comfortable with it either.”

“So, you could use more love and try harder with affection?”

“Maybe.  But, I think to answer the question I’d have to say, it probably doesn’t play as significant a role as it could, or even should.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Why is it interesting?”

“Because I feel like you have so many people in your life that love you.”

“Who, my mother?  My brothers?”

“Hey, that’s three more than I’ve got.”

“Mulder, I lo...I think you’re wrong about that.”

“Name them.”

“We’re off track.  You haven’t answered yet.”

“I’m a big fan of love and affection.  When it’s in my life, I think it’s pretty great.  I wish it didn’t come and go so easily, because it’s hard not to have it.  Sometimes I think I need it as much as I want it.”

“Maybe you’ll find it once you start living it up on Saturday nights.”

“Maybe you will too.”

“22.  Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner.  Share a total of five items.”

“You are unbelievably smart.”

“I like how gentle you are.”

“Gentle?”

“When you deal with people in difficult situations.  We discussed it however many questions ago.  You’re very gentle and I like that about you.  I’ve appreciated it in my own difficult situations.”

“Oh.”  Mulder blinked.  It gave him a warm feeling to know he’d done something Scully appreciated.  “Um.  You are the most dependable person I know.”

“You are the most passionate person I know.”

“Is that just codeword for stubborn?”

“Maybe.”

Mulder grinned.  “What are we at, three?  You are more warm than I think you give yourself credit for.”

Scully scrunched her face as though she disagreed.  

“See,” he said.

“I think you always do things with the best of intentions.”

“You don’t take shit from anyone, especially me.”

“You…”  She closed her eyes and her brows came together.

“Uh oh, I only have three good qualities?”

“I just want to phrase this right.  You have an ability to empathize at will.”

“I’ll have to ponder that one later.  Last one?  I don’t know if I would call it stamina, but for all that you’ve endured, you get back up, you keep fighting, you’re still here, and you’re stronger every time.  Resilience, maybe, but it’s more than that.  It’s...you’re just incredible, Scully, you really are.”

Scully’s eyes grew glassy and wet.  “Dammit, Mulder,” she muttered, wiping her knuckles across her lashes.

“If the next question is what are negative qualities your partner possesses, I’ll start with unable to take a compliment, how about that?”  

In response, Scully gave Mulder’s bicep a shove and he laughed as he pretended to slip off his barstool.  She wiped her eyes again and then took a drink.

“I admire your ability to be free with your feelings,” she said.  “Next question.”

Not that free, Mulder thought, looking at the paper.  “Number 23.  How close and warm is your family?  Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?”

“Close-ish.  Not very warm, but warm enough.  I don’t think my childhood was more or less happy than anyone else’s.  It was sufficient for me, maybe not so much for Charlie or Melissa.”

“What about Bill Jr.?”

“He thrived on routine and order, as you can imagine.”  She smiled and then laughed softly.  “He would probably say it was idyllic.”

“I’m going to have to say my childhood was less than idyllic, not warm and not close.  I don’t think that will come as a surprise to you.”

“Was it always like that though?  Even before your sister was…”

“It was tumultuous.  I didn’t really know it at the time, I just thought everyone had parents who yelled at each other when they were together, or dads who worked all the time and hit them when they weren’t home when the streetlights came on.  It took me a long time to realize it wasn’t great.”

Scully reached over and covered Mulder’s hand with hers, giving it a squeeze.  “I’m sorry that you went through that.”

“I made peace with that a long time ago.”

She nodded and withdrew her hand.  “Oh, nice follow up question.  24.  How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?”

Mulder sat back and sipped his iced tea.  He pulled an ice cube into his mouth with his tongue and rolled it back and forth for a few moments before crunching down on it and shattering it into tiny pieces.  When he was finished, he sucked in his bottom lip and scraped his teeth across it.

“It’s complicated,” he said.  “I wish it weren’t.  I think I’ve done a lot in my life to try to...to please her somehow, to make her proud, to protect her, to just...I don’t know.  I’m not even sure she appreciates it, but I’ll do it anyway because she’s my mom.  I don’t know if what I’ve done for her is out of love or obligation.”

“Sometimes it can feel like that same thing.”

“That’s for damn sure.”  Mulder pulled another piece of ice into his mouth.

“I don’t think my mother and I understand each other very well.  I know she wanted a different life for me, but also wanted me to forge my own path.  I think she also thought at some point it would merge with her own ideals.  She makes me feel guilty a lot for not being as present as she’d like me to be.  I think our relationship is more about her than it is about me.  I suppose that’s fine, but I’d also say she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.”

“Would you like it to be better?”

“Does it sound awful to say that I don’t think I need it to be?”

“Not if that’s the truth.”

“I don’t need it to be.”

“Okay then.  Make three true "we" statements each.  For instance, "we are both in this room feeling..."

“That’s kind of a weird question.  Okay, we are both FBI agents.”

“Oh, come on!”

“We eat together quite often, but it’s been a long time since we’ve had dinner together, if you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“And, we haven’t talked like this in a long time.”

“Have we ever?”

“There were some times back in the early days of our partnership where we dug a little deeper.  Never to this extent, but we’ve had some moments.”

“We should do this more often.  That’s my first we statement, by the way, and a general comment.  We should do this more often.  We make a great team.  And we both enjoy the same beer.”

“26.  Complete this sentence, "I wish I had someone with whom I could share..."

“Huh.  I don’t know that there’s a lot I don’t share with you.”

“Well, that isn’t the question.”

“I know, but what I’m saying is...I mean, I don’t really feel like I’m not sharing something.  If there’s something I want to share, I share it with you.”

“There’s got to be something though.”  She shook her head dismissively.  “You share your slideshows and your theories and your strange depth of knowledge, but not…”

“Not what?”

“I don’t know, life things.  What are life things that people share?  Intimate things.  Their...toothbrushes, their inner demons, their beds, their hopes for the future.”

“Is that your answer?  Is that what you want to share with someone?”

“Of course I do, but at the same time, absolutely not.”

“I think we’ve shared some hopes with each other, and definitely demons.  As for toothbrushes and beds, just say the word.”

“Are you telling me that you feel fulfilled right now?”

Mulder was momentarily tongue-tied and stuttered out an answer.  “I don’t think I can say I feel unfulfilled  Are there things I want?  Sure.  Intimate things?  Yeah.  I think that desiring emotional or even physical intimacy is a different question from what would I like to share with someone?”

“I think it’s the same.”

“And I would argue that saying I want someone to share a meal with at the end of every day is completely separate from saying I wish I had someone to hold me every night.  Both answers imply a desire for intimacy, but a meal is a shared experience and the other is somewhat selfish.  So, personally, I don’t interpret the question in that way, but if you want to qualify it and remove ‘share’ from the equation, I wish I had someone with whom I could spend a night with and would still be there in the morning.  Absolutely.”

An extended silence followed, one in which Mulder could feel the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment.  He never intended to lay the burden of his ache for intimacy at her feet.  Not like that.  And now it was out in the ether and he couldn’t take it back.  Sure, he could make a self-deprecating joke about it, but then it might devalue the whole purpose of the questionnaire.  He wished he could tell what she was thinking, but her face was shadowed, her expression hidden by the angle of her chin, down and away.

“Alright,” Scully finally said.  “You make a valid point.  But, I would like to add that I believe the examples you’ve given can also be a shared experience.  You can want someone to share a night with, and then wake up and share the morning as well.”

“Then the most basic answer would always be that you want someone to share your life with.”

“That’s true, but...”

“And I also think in order to be shared, it has to be reciprocated as well.  You have to give of yourself, but you have to be willing to receive as well.”

“I suppose if you’re not willing to open yourself up like that, it wouldn’t be a whole life, it would be half a life.”

“I didn’t say I was unwilling.”

“Well, I didn’t either.”  She hesitated on her next breath and then laughed a little.  “And I honestly don’t even know what the point is that we’re trying to make anymore.”

Mulder sighed silently in relief that the tension he felt was bubbling had burst with her laughter and then hesitantly turned the paper towards him.  “Uh, number 27.  If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.”

“I’m sure you already know this, but I don’t open up very often.  And I don’t do need very well.”

“I know tonight is an anomaly.  That we probably won’t discuss it in the morning, or ever again.  It doesn’t have to be that way though.”

She shifted in her seat and tucked her hair back over her ear.  “Just answer the question.”

“I’d need her to know that I can be a bit of a stubborn asshole.  And that sometimes I am blinded by need and I don’t make the best decisions.”

“28.  Tell your partner what you like about them: be honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met.”

“That implies I wasn’t being honest the last time I answered the question.”

“Maybe for strangers they could only answer more superficially until they got to know each other.”

“What, things like, I like your eyes or your hair or the way the top of your nose moves when you speak?”

Scully reached up and touched the bridge of her nose between her brows almost self-consciously and then brought her hand down just as quickly and wrapped it around her glass.  “I think we can skip this one, unless you feel like there’s something you left out.”

“I do like more than three things about you, Scully.”  He smiled and leaned into her teasingly.  “But, if your quota was met earlier we can move on.”

“I do happen to like that stubbornness of yours.  Just so you know.”

“You do?”  He leaned back and scrutinized her, genuinely surprised.  “Why?”

“You don’t give up easily, whether it’s on cases or on people.  It’s that steadfast determination that gets you results where others may not.”

“I might have to remind you of this the next time you tell me to let something go.  29.  Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.”

“I was quite bookish in school.”

“No!”

Scully gave Mulder a flash of a scowl.  “I won an award for a state science fair when I was in sixth grade, of which I was very proud of, but you know, other kids don’t really appreciate that kind of thing.”

“Kids are jerks.”

“No one would’ve ever had to know, but the principal read it over the PA in our morning announcements and well...it was bad enough that attention was called to it, but for the rest of the school year, this kid, Stevie, would salute me every time I walked into class and called me Dr. Nerd.”

“Uh, not to diminish your feelings, but Stevie’s the one who should be embarrassed.  That’s the lamest nickname anyone has ever come up with in the history of nicknames.”

“Any nickname earned, however lame, can seem like the worst insult in the world when you’re ten.”

“True.  I bet you can rest assured that Stevie hasn’t gone on to much success in life.”

“Who knows.”

“Well, contrary to what you might believe, I was not always as agile and suave as I am today.”

“Oh, is that what I believe?”

“I was also ten in my story and I was at a birthday party at a skating rink for arguably the prettiest girl in school, but I was a pretty lousy skater.  I made it one round around the rink, mostly holding on to the side, and when I let go and tried to participate in the skate chain, I went ass over elbows in front of the entire class, but all I cared about was that I’d just ate shit in front of Cindy Palmer.”

Scully started laughing before he’d even made it to the punchline, like she might know what was coming.  She made a sympathetic noise over her chuckles.  “That’s terrible,” she stuttered and giggled at the same time.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Childhood is rough.  The smallest things seem like the end of the world.”

“That they do.”

“Lay the next one on me, Dr. Nerd.”

Scully gave Mulder a soft kick on the shin with the side of her foot.  “When did you last cry in front of another person?  By yourself?”

“Few weeks ago when you went to get cleaned up after…”  He gestured to his chest.  “Padgett.”

“That would be my answer for both parts of that question.”

“I don’t have a real hang-up about crying in front of people.  I can’t really remember the last time, but I’m sure it was you.”

“Fair enough.  31.  Tell your partner something that you like about them already.  Oh come on, we’ve answered this about six times.”

“Skip it.  Number 32.  What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”

“Death of a child.”

“I was gonna say nothing is too serious, but I’m going to agree with you there.”

“Number 33.  If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone?  Why haven't you told them yet?”

“Wow.  Um…”  

“Yeah, this one might be a little…”

“I think I need a minute.”

“Take your time.”

The first thing that came to Mulder’s mind was that he would tell Scully how much she meant to him, but it conjured up memories from his hallway and really he’d already said what he’d needed her to hear.  He could reiterate it right here, right now, but it didn’t feel like the right time, to say it only because he was being prompted by a silly questionnaire.  If she were a stranger, he would answer honestly, that he had communicated those things one time, he just wished it wasn’t one of those things they didn’t talk about.  He chose a different option instead, one that was still truthful, but felt less necessary for him.

“I would want to tell my mother that I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for her,” he said.  “Couldn’t find my sister and couldn’t make her happy.  As to why I haven’t already told her, well there’s a big part of me that knows it isn’t my fault and that I’ve done everything I could.”

“It isn’t your fault.  You have done everything you could, more than enough, Mulder.”

“Logically, yes, I know that.  And I shouldn’t have to apologize for it, but I still feel compelled.”

Scully curled her hand over Mulder’s forearm and let it rest there for a few quiet moments.  He gave her an appreciative smile and then put his hand over hers.  He expected her to pull away, but she didn’t.  They stayed like that until the loud scrape of a barstool across the floor broke the solace.  He reached for his iced tea and she leaned back on her stool.

“I can’t answer the question,” Scully said, her voice almost at a whisper.  “There are reasons that...I just can’t.”

Mulder shrugged.  “You don’t need to explain it.  It’s just a silly questionnaire.”  

She looked down and plucked at the skin next to her thumbnail.  “It’s not silly and I should...I lack the courage to...it’s because I lack courage that I can’t answer.”

“You can have half a point for answering the second part of the question.”

She looked up at him and there was pain in her eyes.  He couldn’t tell if her anguish was from not being able to answer, or what she would answer if she could.  He reached over and swept his hand up and down her back a few times.

“You’re the most courageous person I know,” he said.  “That won’t change.”

“Yet I can’t even answer a simple question.”

“It’s not that simple.  Let’s just do the next one, we’re almost done.  Number 34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire.  After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item.  What would it be and why?”

“I want you to know that I want to answer it, Mulder.  I do.”

“Answer it when it’s the right time, Scully.  You’re gonna be around a long time.”

In the silence that followed the deep and uncertain breath Scully took, Mulder changed the format of the questionnaire and just answered.

“Well, since it says I’ve already gotten my fish to safety,” he said.  “I think I’d have to rescue my lamp.”

Scully cleared her throat.  “Your lamp?”

“My Saturn lamp.  My grandfather - my mother’s father, the only grandparent I ever met - got it for me when I was about four or five.  It was my nightlight when I was a kid.”

“That’s adorable, Mulder.”

“I mean, I think the couch is pretty unreasonable and I can get a basketball anywhere.”

“No, it’s a good choice.  I’d take a photo album I have that was given to me by my grandmother.”

“Mom’s side or dad’s side?”

“Dad’s.”

“Also pretty irreplaceable.”

“Yeah.”

“We went out of order, so go ahead with the next one.”

Scully hesitated when she turned the paper closer and there was a slight hitch in her breath.  “I think we’ve already answered this as well,” she answered, and then pushed the paper over to Mulder.

“35.  Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing?  Why?  I guess in my case missing might as well be dead and even if your sister hadn’t-”

“I wasn’t going to answer with Melissa,” she interrupted.  “It was awful, yes.  It’s one of the worst things I’ve been through.  But, it’s not the worst thing.”

Mulder puzzled over her answer for a moment and almost had to ask if she was referring to her father or mother, but it dawned on him suddenly and he pressed his lips together in a tight line.  The death of a child is a very serious thing.  He never really knew the true extent of her feelings about Emily because she wouldn’t share them, but he knew she was mired in silent grief for some time.  There had been a real lack of joy in her in the months that followed, one he thought had never really returned.

“It never occurred to me,” Mulder said.  “To think that…”

“I didn’t think it would.  Actually, it didn’t occur to me either until just now.”

“I don’t think I ever told you how sorry I was.”

“It isn’t you who should be sorry.  And you were right, it was never meant to be.”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“No.  You were right.  It doesn’t mean I didn’t want her, wouldn’t have gladly taken her, quit the FBI, moved to a tiny town somewhere in the hopes that no one could get to her, but the circumstances were what they were.  Even if there was a way to treat her, the price would have been too great, I think, and it would’ve just been buying a piece of time.  I’ve been trying to accept that as fact.  Some days I can, some days I can’t.”

“Grief doesn’t really follow a strict timeline.”

“Sometimes I’m not even sure what I’m grieving; if it’s for her or the idea of her.  The loss of what I don’t have.”

“Maybe it’s both.  Do you want…”

“A child?  I’m not even sure.  I know I’m angry that the choice was taken away from me, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to explore my options or if I’ll ever be.  On the other hand, I can hear it ticking.”

“Are we talking about the proverbial biological clock here?”

“Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Sometimes faintly, sometimes loudly, reminding me that I’m not getting any younger.”

“Well, if you ever do decide to explore those options, I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”

Scully tipped her head and gazed at him sideways.  “I’ll remember that,” she said.  “If I ever reach a conclusion.”

Part of him felt this conversation was an opening to come clean about the full truth of her missing ova, but he wasn’t going to do that to her if she hadn’t even decided she wanted a child.  He didn’t want to hurt her unnecessarily further if the verdict was still out.  It was a burden he’d held for such a long time and he wasn’t keen on making it hers as well, even if it was technically her burden.  He would rather carry that cross for her and never let her know he was carrying it if he didn’t have to.

“So,” she said, sitting up taller and shaking off the melancholy that had settled momentarily on her shoulders.  “We went out of order again kind of.  Go ahead with the last one.”

“Okay, final question.  Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it.  Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.”

“Well, I can’t seem to get my laundry done when I need it because my partner is always keeping me out nights.”

“Send it out to a service.  That’s what I do.”

She smiled.  “Just give me a minute, I’ll think of something.”

“Maybe you’re lucky enough to be problem-free.  Laundry aside.”

“The only pressing issue I can really think of is how to tell my brother I’d rather not visit for the 4th of July.  He’s been sort of pestering me to come out, but if I decide to take a vacation this summer, I’d rather do something relaxing.”

“Like going to Maine?”

“Not Maine.”

“It’s Stephen King territory, Scully, you should’ve known you’d find a possessed doll up there the minute you set foot in the state.”

“Does that mean I’d have better or worse chances of an x-file finding me on a tiny island somewhere in the Caribbean.”

“That probably depends on how close to the Bermuda Triangle you plan to be.  But, a tropical island?  Really?”

“Might be nice to lay in a hammock and read a book or two.”

“You mean highlight your latest edition of JAMA.”

“At least I’d be on a beach while I’m at it.”

“Blame it on me.  Even if you didn’t, I’m sure Bill would do it for you, so just give him the satisfaction of being right as you let him down easy.”

“I’m not gonna blame you to spare his feelings.  You don’t deserve that.”

“I guess you can go with the truth then.  Just tell him you need a break.  You’re using up your days off for some much needed alone time.”

“That’s probably all I can do, but I know he won’t understand.”

“Then that’s his problem.”

“And now I’m supposed to ask you how I feel about this dilemma?”

“Still on the fence, I’d say.  You’re gonna want more time to mull it over and probably put it off a bit longer.”

“Correct.”

“Here’s my problem.  I want to ask my partner if she’d entertain the idea of coming into the office tomorrow morning, not all day or anything, just for a little while.  But, I know she has all that laundry to do that she could send out, and curling up in the titillating world of JAMA, and I certainly don’t want to take that away from her.”

Scully groaned.

“See, big problem,” he said.

“I need more information.  Why do you want your partner  to come in tomorrow?  What could you possibly want to do in the office on a Saturday when we don’t have something taking us out of town?”

“I ordered some Roswell newspaper volumes from archives about a month ago and they finally came in.”

“Newspapers.  From Roswell.”

“The 1940s.  Wouldn’t it be fun to peruse old-timey articles about mysterious lights in the sky and government cover-ups?”

Scully groaned again.

“Any advice for this problem of mine?”

“Yes.  Don’t ask.”

“I hear it’s going to rain tomorrow.”

“So.”

“So she won’t be missing anything by staying indoors.  What if I offered to buy her lunch?”

“Not good enough.”

“Breakfast?”

“Not listening.”

“Snacks from the vending machine every hour?”

“Your problem is going to wear a hole in your pocket.”

“Is now a good time to reflect on how I’m feeling?”

“There’s an air of desperation about you.  You’re still wondering how best to wear me down, and you know it’s only a matter of time before I say yes, but you’ll still be wondering if I’ll show up until I walk in tomorrow morning.”

“Does that mean my problem is solved?”

“It means you’ll have to wait to find out until tomorrow morning.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing.”

“There’s something else on this paper.”  Scully furrowed her brow and pushed the paper towards Mulder while keeping her fingers on it.  “Instructions.”

“You’ve reached the end of the questions.  The final task is to stare silently into your partner’s eyes for four minutes.  It’s important to finish with this step.  Some people have described this step as thrilling and terrifying.  Good luck.”

“You’ve got to me kidding me.”

“We don’t have to.”

“You know I’m not going to leave something half-assed.”

“I just thought it was fun questions.”

Scully sighed and then downed the rest of her watery Diet Coke.  She dropped the glass down on the bar with more force than necessary and turned on the stool to face Mulder.

“Got a timer on your watch?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Set it.”

He did as she asked and then laid his arm down on the bar so she could see it.  She grabbed his wrist and after a glance, let him go and rested her arm in front of his, glancing her fingers off of his as she pulled away.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Go.”

Mulder only glanced down to start the timer and then he met her gaze.  It was awkward at first, with her looking so defiant and both unaccustomed to really looking that purposefully at each other when they weren’t debating a casefile.  Her face finally softened a bit and she gave a small tilt of her head as though she was trying to read something off of him.  He hoped she couldn’t read his thoughts in that moment, that was for sure.

Just before she tilted her head, her eyelids dropped in a half-blink and then opened again and he saw in her what he felt like he was on the verge of really seeing in his hallway two years ago, but had tamped down.  He envisioned himself rising from his stool, kicking it out of the way, taking her face in his hands, pushing his fingers through her hair, and kissing her for all he was worth, once and for all.  He felt his lips part in anticipation, licked them closed, and swallowed.

Suddenly, Scully’s eyes turned glassy and she looked away, pulling back from him with a slight slump, but he reached out and touched her arm, laying his hand down over hers and she blinked back up at him.  She looked terrified, but he dipped his head a little and tried to tell her it was alright by widening his eyes just a little and nodding.  He understood.  This was not a game.  He wanted her to know he was sincere and grateful that she did this with him.  He cherished her answers.  He cherished that she listened.  Above all, he simply cherished all of her.

Four minutes could feel like a lifetime.  By the time Mulder’s watch went off, Scully looked a little less afraid, but she quickly averted her eyes again at the sound of the beep and pulled her hand out from under his.  He didn’t turn away though, and blindly silenced his watch.  She stared at the rows of alcohol above the back of the bar until he cleared his throat and swiveled forward in his seat.

“So, we should do this more often,” he said.

“Yeah,” she answered, with a slight scoff.  She turned her head towards him though, smiled softly, and then looked down at her lap.  “I did have a nice time.”

“I’m glad.  Let me get the check and we’ll get out of here.”

He helped her into her coat after he’d paid and then slung his own over his shoulder.  Twilight had set in and the streets were quiet.  They stopped under a street lamp in front of her apartment, near her car.  She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her feet for a few moments.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said.

“Don’t forget, my offer for breakfast, snacks, and lunch still stands.”

“It’s possible I won’t turn it down.  It’s also possible I will.”

“I know, you’re always trying to keep me guessing.”

“Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it?”

“Always.”

Scully smiled and he realized he’d seen her smile more tonight than he had in years.  It looked good on her.  On impulse, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek, nearly catching the corner of her smile.  Her eyes followed his retreat and the slight upturn of her lips was still in place.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“Just because.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  Or Monday.”

“What if I were to want something from the deli on 13th and E?”

“Done.”

“I’ll add it to the things to consider.”

Mulder turned and took a few steps on his tip-toes towards his car.  He heard Scully chuckle and he gave her one last glance over his shoulder.  He made a promise to himself in that moment to surprise her with something fun, something she’d least expect.  He didn’t know what it was yet, but he’d think of something.

The End

[themovingturtle-blog]

10.13.18

A while ago, the film “The Secret” was recommended to me. I tried to read the book first, but a good friend told me that all the text in the book was taken verbatim from the movie. The movie actually precedes the film, which was released as a companion piece. I love to read, but given the choice between a two hour movie and several hours of reading, each with the exact same content, I chose the former.

To be frank, “The Secret” was not an easy film to watch.

“The Secret” was made in 2006 by Rhonda Byrne. The thesis statement of the movie is that a universal law called the Law of Attraction is what allows people to gain wealth and happiness in this world. By focusing their mental energies on something, be it a new car, a bigger house, or a promotion, a person can bring the object of their focus into their life.

The dated visual effects and corny monologues [all speech in the film comes either from an unseen narrator or various talking head “experts”] are forgivable. My biggest issue with “The Secret” is the air of insincerity and even dishonesty that seems to permeate the film.

This movie is quite good at implying things without directly stating them. The ideas that the film seeks to teach are implied to be some sort of ancient knowledge. The narrator often speaks over footage of various times and places throughout history. For the most part, the screens behind the talking heads portray sketches and scribblings reminiscent of Da Vinci's notebooks, further trying to lend an air of historicity and timelessness to the ideas they are selling. None of these places or events are explicitly connected to law of attraction, but they are put in the film for a reason. This method tries to give credibility to the ideas being taught without citing any actual experts. It's comparable to the advertising method of putting pictures of attractive women next to a product.

There are also vague allusions to the knowledge of the law of attraction being purposely kept hidden by a mysterious group of elites, hence the title of the film. However, it is never explained how Ms. Byrne or her daughter got a hold of this suppressed information. I would guess that the reason so many things are implied, rather than said, is that the filmmakers know that their claims are tenuous at best, if not outright false.

It's worth pointing out that the law of attraction can actually trace its roots to the teachings of Phineas Quimby and the New Thought movement of the late 19th century. Quimby taught that illness was caused by mental failings and that all diseases could be cured by properly believing in God.

Much of what the speakers in the film have to say seems to be pseudoscience and quantum mysticism. There are also frequent references to supposed facts and stories that are not properly sourced. These uncited sources are then used as an unquestionable foundation to explain the law of attraction. This is to say nothing of when the speakers make vague or even untrue statements. One that particularly stood out was Bob Proctor's comparison of electricity to the law of attraction. Basically, he says that no one understands what electricity is, but that we still manage to harness it. This borders on ridiculous. There are plenty of people who know exactly what electricity is and exactly how it works. They teach it in high school. That's how we are able to use it!

One of the speakers, a supposed quantum physicist, also throws out the "we only use ten percent of our brain" myth, implying that there is some kind of inactivated potential that the law of attraction may be connected to. This is purely an urban legend and has been refuted several times. Our conscious thoughts may only take up a small percentage of our brains functions, but a much larger percentage is devoted to unconscious tasks that keep our bodies functioning.

The main idea of “The Secret” is that "the universe" responds to our feelings and frequent thoughts by bringing the things we think about into our lives. Essentially, good things happen if you think about good things in a positive way and bad things happen if you think about bad things in a negative way.

This line of thinking puts the responsibility for one's happiness entirely on one's own shoulders. That's all well and good until you consider those whose lives are outside of their control. This film was marketed towards people who lead generally comfortable lives. They don't have to worry about where their next meal will come from. Immediate danger to life and limb is rare. Very few things are held back from them and opportunities abound. Their biggest hindrances in their lives are often mental blocks. Positivity and mindfulness are good tools to overcome these problems, even if they are discussed under pseudoscientific pretenses.

However, there are people throughout the world who suffer terrible fates regardless of their disposition. The soldier facing down enemy fire cannot wish his way out of a war. No amount of contemplation on a magical key will free the illegally imprisoned journalist. Who would dare tell the mother in Somalia as she watches her child die of malnutrition that what is happening is her fault because she wasn't happy enough in the preceding months?

According to “The Secret”, the way to know that you are "in tune" with "the universe" is to only do things that make you feel good. Good feelings are a natural signal to continue whatever you're up to. This bugs me for two reasons. One is that the film tries to distill and polarize the entire human experience into good and bad, as though there are no shades of grey in life. There are plenty of choices we make that may feel good in the moment but be looked back on with regret. There are also several actions that may be hurtful at the time but have positive effects in the long run, such as exercise or moving away from friends to pursue a new career.

My other concern is that the idea of good feelings being a natural affirmation seems to encourage hedonism and only acting on what makes one feel good in the moment. Speaking of hedonism, I also took issue with the film's focus on material wealth, specifically nice cars and big houses.

As a diehard Joseph Campbell fan, one of the most unforgivable sins of this movie, in my eyes, was the misrepresentation of his teachings. Towards the end of the film, a picture of Campbell appears next to one of his most famous quotes. “Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.”

When Campbell says to follow your bliss, he is referring to the idea of pursuing a path that stimulates your passions. Find a career and lifestyle that you care enough about to devote yourself to it entirely and make sacrifices for it. Following your bliss does not refer to embracing hedonism or doing whatever feels good in the moment. This quote began to be misinterpreted while Campbell was still alive. He is reported to have joked that he should change it to "Follow your blisters".

While I do think positivity and mindfulness are useful skills to cultivate, I wholeheartedly disagree with the way the movie attempts to sell them. It uses shaky sources and vague methods to assert its claims. It makes claims about universal laws but only considers a small portion of the human experience. While “The Secret” received tons of exposure and press attention in its day, it's not any different from any other half-baked self help movie.

Try These Songs

Author and Punisher - Terrorbird

Gehennah - Still the Elite

The Roots - Walk Alone

Tiberius Rising - Ookla the Mok

Hangar 18 - Megadeth

[sunlitroom]

For the WIP meme - run, pain and look

(all Gobblepot, again :))

Run (multiple times across three fics)

1. His own search for him had run dry. 

He stares at the rain running down the windscreen. 

‘‘I suppose there’s the issue of which particular warehouse was targeted,who’s running it.’

It’s not as expensive as he might have thought – perhaps unsurprising,given he can remember that Cobblepot wore this even when he was essentiallyrunning errands for Maroni and Falcone, long before his ascent to power.  

His stomach lurches, and he runs to the bathroom, locking the doorbehind him, and falling to his knees, retching helplessly. 

2. It goes round andround in his head until he can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand it – the things he wishes he’d said, or hadn’t said, thedetails he hadn’t noticed, the warning signs he’d missed, or ignored – all of it over and over, how it mighthave been different, until he’s pulling on running shoes and heading for thedoor like something is after him, something sharp toothed and merciless andready to draw blood for his failures.

Stillhe’s glad that his partner’s back where he can keep an eye on him, not runninground the city half-cocked, putting himself in danger’s way – which he’d beeven more reckless about, now that Lee and the baby are out of thepicture.  

Then,out of the corner of his eye, he spots the tip of a pointed shoe at the end ofthe couch that runs parallel to the window. 

“‘Speciallywith that sick son-of-a-bitch that was running the place.“

‘Anauspicious start, trying to run a nightclub with no booze’ 

3. Harveyhad looked at him like he was crazy when he had taken to running to work –turning up dripping with sweat, and showering before changing into his suit and starting work. 

Pain (about a bazillion times across three fics)

1. Even the thought of the place gives him anagging pain behind his eye – too much personal disappointment and raw regretdown there.

But this is inappropriate to this new mode ofbusiness, and so Oswald has taken pains to curb this instinct.

Thefact that he also needs this time to calm his mind, that too much can create a storm of pain and stress that forces him tofind refuge in a dark, quiet room is a secondary consideration, he tellshimself.  

Hehad not yet realised this in his early days back in charge, and Gabe – fortunately– had been the one to find him twice, curled in a ball on the floor, armswrapped round his knees – pain in his head screaming over the pain in his leg,for once.  

After he had been laid on the couch, surprisingly carefully,he had been able to pick out the sound of receding footsteps, and a doorclicking shut, and had grit his teeth until the pain had slowly faded away.

Thespaces between are what catches him out: the pauses where he thinks Jim isn’twatching, and Jim can see pain pull the corners of his mouth downwards, and hisknuckles whiten on the arm of the chair.

Jimpresses the heel of his hand to his forehead, tiredness and anger turning intoa stabbing pain.  

Hecan’t think of anything he wants to do more right now than punch him, punch himso hard that his knuckles sing with pain , and watch his head snap back withthe force of it.

2. When he opens his eyes next, the room is light – which makes him squeezehis eyes shut again fast, pain spearing through his skull.  

3. Oswaldhad taken pains to cultivate his image.

Look (I had to stop.  I have too many unfinished fics to search for every instance of look xD  I did the best I could)

1. He’d braced himself to expect a call from the morgue one day, to have tolook at his pale face again, and identify his skinny, twisted body in God knowswhat condition, and without being quite sure how he’d feel about it when thatday arrived, he knew with certainty that he would go out that night and getblisteringly, punishingly drunk.

He walks the streets for hours without being sure why he’s there, orwhat he’s looking for, exactly. 

He’s on a street that houses nothing but oneancient-looking pawn shop, some boarded-up stores, and a long disused factorywith weeds straggling through the bricks in the walls.  

Uncharacteristically, he has no umbrella –just his collar turned up – and looks bedraggled, trying to walk close to theboarded up stores for shelter.

They look at each other for the first time in 6 months,four since his removal, two since their estrangement.

His head is slumped forward, chinon his chest, and with his beaky nose and shock of hair he looks as much likehis nickname as Jim has ever seen him.  

Even his leg looks more skewed than usual, the muscles relaxed in sleep,allowing it to fully turn out to the side. 

Eccentric, Jim amends, always tryingto be kinder.  Imperious, with elaboratemanners, wearing what looked like a haphazard pile of lace and frills.   

2. Hesits down at his desk at the end of the day and looks at anything but the damnenvelope before giving in and grabbing it – turning it over in his hands. 

3. Thedecoration is elaborate, foreign-looking – somehow, with heavy pieces offurniture.  

Instead,he lightly presses his fingers to his lips, looking faintly amused, beforeasking.

The memory of Jim raising a gun to Galavan’shead twists and fights with the memory of his dubious look in the grounds ofArkham, and Oswald rubs the back of his head with a grimace

Thesecond was the look of terrified disbelief in his eyes when Jim had looked overpaper white skin and purple shadows under his eyes, and told himself that hedidn’t see cuts and bruises, which meant no torture, and so left Oswald inArkham, despite his pleading and screaming and threats. 

AlthoughOswald had usually held the power between them: the necessary information, theillegal means – Jim had never acted like that, had always behaved, in fact, asif he was looking down on Oswald, lip curled, contemptuous and judgmental.  

Somewarranted outright protection, some were granted grudging protection like coldcharity - with a curled lip and a repulsed look, and others received nothing atall.  

Gabelooks at him for a moment like he’s something he scraped off his shoe, andshakes his head incredulously.  

Hisclothes don’t even look crumpled, and Jim wonders if he’s taken to keeping aspare shirt and jacket here in case this happens.

‘What’swrong with you, Jim Gordon?’ he asks, tilting his head curiously. ‘Wandering around my old club all alone.  What are you looking for?’

‘I think you look more like your mom’, he announces flatly, ina tone that doesn’t invite disagreement.

4. In the first couple of days, he had simply tried to ignorethe heat, until Gabe had asked – in tones of genuine concern – whether he ‘couldn’tmaybe just lose the jacket, since he didn’t look too good. ‘ 

Harveyhad looked at him like he was crazy when he had taken to running to work –turning up dripping with sweat, and showering before changing into his suit and starting work.

5. Jim’s apartment looks much as it has on any of the otheroccasions when Oswald has….visited. 

6. Craninghis neck, he looked towards Jim.  Fromhis spot on the sofa, and Jim’s sprawl on the bed, all he could see were Jim’sfeet, only one of which – confusingly – was wearing a shoe.  

Thank-you :)