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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year

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Taking Root

A/N: This was supposed to be a micro-fic based off of a prompt sent to me when I was trying to kickstart the creative juices again, and it just... didn’t want to stay short. Which is just fine with me. This takes place roughly two years after Point of No Return (and the still upcoming epilogue/sequel Petrichor- I dropped a few hints about what to expect in that series here). It could probably be read as a standalone story, but it really should be read along with the main story for that universe. Huge thank you to @valkblue who sent the prompt that sparked this one shot!! Thanks, Angie!! <3

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none at all. this is very very soft.

Prompt: One character ruffling the other’s hair

Summary: After everything that Clara has done for Ezra and Cee, the two of them team up to make sure that her birthday is a special one.

“Are you sure she won’t be back before we’re done?”

Cee asked the question as she dropped a stack of wooden slats next to the porch steps. They landed with a soft clanking thud in the spongy grass near the toolbox Ezra had just set down. Up on the porch, Number Four jumped at the sudden sound, her stubby legs splayed in different directions as she toppled to her side. Abe, on the other hand, remained curled up on the doormat in the shape of a plump honey loaf, one orange ear twitching towards the source of the noise and deeming it nothing worth waking over. The smaller gray and white cat scrambled to her feet, letting out a tiny mewling yell as she tottered over to Abe’s side and tucked herself under his tail.

Brushing her palms together, Cee glanced over her shoulder at the long gravel driveway, as though expecting to see puffs of pinkish dust kicking up under the crunch of tires. Finding it empty, she turned back to face him, her lopsided frown almost comical to Ezra. No reason to fret, we have plenty of time.

“Of course I’m sure, Birdie.” He shifted his weight and tilted his head, left hip jutting out for his hand to rest on. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

With a roll of her eyes, the girl snorted. “How about last week? When you told me to turn right on Plox Street instead of left, and then we ended up on the other side of town, three zones from where we were supposed to-”

“I did not intend for you to take that question so literally,” he responded through a smirk, eyes narrowed in faux irritation. “Besides, we did eventually end up in the correct location, and in doing so we discovered a new route to the Med Center.” Arching one eyebrow, he held up his pointer finger. “One that is much more scenic, I might add.”

Cee tilted her head to one side and then the other. “Yeah, yeah.” Her frown finally faded into a smile that brightened her whole face. Though he wouldn’t know it for months after they came to be one another’s family, the girl’s smile - when it was genuine, when she was actually happy and it wasn’t forced or unsure - was infectious in the best way. As soon as he saw it, Ezra’s own cheeks pulled up in a grin. Because I am not immune to its shine. “It was a nicer ride.”

Beginning as soon as her second rainy season at the farm came to an end, Ezra had been teaching Cee to drive Clara’s truck. And she is taking to it like a lakefowl to water. Not that I am the least bit shocked there. Their lessons had started small, not leaving the property until she was comfortable with the pedals and controls. Once she was, Ezra let her drive short distances into town, always in the passenger seat giving calm encouragement, directing her on when to use signals, and reminding her to keep an eye on the power gauge. When trips to the butcher and the farm supply became simple enough for her, Clara suggested that Cee be the one to drive Ezra to his appointments at the Med Center, where he was being fitted for his prosthetic.

Finally.

After just over two years of fighting, frustration, failed muscle matter scans, grueling physical therapy exercises and an endless regimen of pharmaceuticals, he had been approved to receive a fully integrated mechanical arm to replace the one he’d lost on the Green.

Finally. I… I miss it.

He was still a few weeks away from the surgical procedure to attach it, but he had already been fitted with the brace mechanism that his new right arm would connect to - a series of metal fasteners that had been surgically fused to the bones of his shoulder and humerus. Shrugging his right shoulder, he rolled it backwards and felt as the material of his t-shirt skated over the fasteners. It was an odd sensation, and an even odder thing to think about how the six knob-like devices were embedded into his skeletal structure. Soon they would be covered not by his clothing, but by his arm.

And then I will be able to do things that I have not done in far too long.

A flood of ideas crashed through his mind then. Holding Clara closer and more tightly than he had in seven years was, of course, at the forefront. But it was followed by much simpler things. Like regaining his penmanship, lacing his boots without the use of a hook, peeling potatoes or chopping leeks in the kitchen, helping in the Thulian fields, having a catch with Siggi - and now Cee - at the end of harvest feast. They were things he was so ready for that the excitement kept him up at night, the phantom nerves of his lost limb itching with how close they were to feeling again.

But first there was a project to finish.

On Kamrea, and in the farmlands specifically, it was tradition to give handmade gifts to celebrate birthdays, and Clara’s was fast approaching. The previous year had been consumed by Ezra’s return and recovery, getting Cee settled into her new life, and planning and hosting Sig and Runa’s wedding. With so many moving parts and all at once, birthday gifting had taken a backseat.

Clara still made sure to have something for Cee, though.

He recalled the gobsmacked look of surprise on the newly turned 15 year old’s face as Clara handed her a small, brightly wrapped package after dinner, the look transforming into one of pure delight as she slid one finger between the paper to open it, revealing a hand painted photo frame. In it was a picture Siggi had snapped of Cee with Ezra and Clara at the Harvest feast a few months prior. There had been tears then, the girl flinging her scrawny arms around Clara’s neck in thanks.

That memory warmed his chest as much as the midday starshine warmed his skin.

Oh, Huckleberry, Birdie and I are both so lucky to have you. And I’m the luckiest of us three, for I have you both.

Now that things had more or less calmed down for the three of them, Ezra had been eager to get back to the tradition. He had always put thought and effort into the things he chose to make for Clara, often using his time away on the Green to brainstorm ideas. It helped keep him from feeling too homesick, thinking of ways to make the woman he loved smile. Because that smile is still the most glorious sight these eyes have ever seen. It always will be. Past gifts had included the swing hanging from the crater-oak beside the creek as well as the windchimes that graced the front porch of the house. The fact that both of those objects remained in place even through his absence from the farm was not lost on him, and he looked forward to giving her something else that would become a part of their home.

And this time he had an accomplice in Cee, the girl just as excited to have the chance to give Clara a gift as Ezra was. In fact, what they were currently in the process of building had been Cee’s idea.

And it was a perfect one.

In addition to learning how to drive and finding her feet within the Kamrean school system, Cee had also spent much of the last year and a half learning about Thulian - and plants in general - from Siggi. She’d seen the harvest right away, and after that, the preparations for the rains. But it was what she learned when the planting season came around again that seemed to strike a chord with her, the care and tending that went into helping things grow. Coming in from the fields one day while Clara was in town, her light hair stained pink with pollen powder and an enthusiastic shine in her eyes, she had informed Ezra that she knew what she wanted to make as a gift.

“But I’ll need your help,” she’d told him, biting her lower lip. “I’ve never built anything before. I’ve fixed things, like my headphones but- ” Her forehead creased as she shrugged. “But that’s electrical stuff. Wiring. I… I wouldn’t know where to start when I comes to wood and-“

Ezra chuckled. “Well, you can start by telling me what it is that you would like to construct, Birdie.” Reaching forward, he brought his hand up to the top of her head, brushing the Thulian powder from her hair and tousling the strands. Cee clicked her tongue in what Ezra knew to be false annoyance, the girl only half able to pull off a very unconvincing frown. The look only made Ezra’s smile lift higher. “If it is something I can assist you with then I promise that I will.” He arched one eyebrow, tilting his head towards his right shoulder. “Do, however, keep in mind that my carpentry abilities have been somewhat limited since the last time I took up a hammer.”

Cee shook her head, her now powderless hair swaying around her shoulders with the motion. “I just need you to tell me what to do and… make sure I don’t muck it up.”

“Well then I’ll have an easy job, Cee. I have yet to witness you do a single task poorly.” Ezra brought his hand to his hip, shifting his weight to one leg. “Now, will you tell me what it is you want to build? Or should I venture a guess?”

It was her turn to let a small amused huff slip through a smirk. “I could make you guess, but the idea is to have it finished before Clara’s birthday.”

That made him laugh, this one more full. “Alright then, Little Bird.” He dipped his chin, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. “Let’s hear it.”

She told him that she wanted to design and build a trellis for the front porch. Siggi had shown her how they were used in last season’s fallow field to help the newly planted Thulian stalks grow while they were still establishing roots. “It’s, well the porch is where we all spend a lot of time and-” She paused, taking a breath and not at all trying to hide the slight shake in it. “And a trellis is like… it’s like what Clara - and you - have done for me. Are doing for me. And I-”

Ezra reached for her then, not to ruffle her hair this time, but to pull her into a hug. Her arms - still thin but now noticeably stronger as a result of farmwork and full meals - wound immediately around his torso. She gave a small squeeze that he returned, along with a quick peck to the top of her head. “It’s perfect, Cee.” He released her, pulling back to look at the girl who had become such an important part of his life. “Clara is going to love it.” Just like she loves you. Just like I do.

“Okay, but seriously.” Cee bent down to pick up one of the wooden pieces, using it to gesticulate at the porch steps and snapping Ezra out of his daydream. He followed where she had indicated, his eyes landing on the framework for an arched trellis that was partially in place. “We’ve been working on this for two days already. Are you sure we’re going to finish in time?”

Ezra stooped down with a grunt to open the tool box. “I am, Little Bird.” He handed her a hammer, her fingers wrapping surely around the grip. “The Kamrean Agricultural Authority’s annual convention is a seven cycle affair. Clara and Sig will not be back for another few days, which gives us plenty of time to finish constructing the trellis and to plant the seedlings.” Pulling a handful of nails from the box, he jumbled them around in his palm before selecting one to pass to her, pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger while the rest curled inward to keep the other nails from spilling into the grass. “You worry too much, you know that, right? We are making good time. In fact I would dare to say that we’ll have this finished by supper.”

She lined the piece in her hand up to the framework, matching the pre-drilled holes to the markings that Ezra had shown her how to measure out. Letting out a sigh, she waited for him to replace her hand on the slat with his own, holding it still so she could drive the nail to attach it. “If you say so.” She set the nail, pinching it carefully as she readied the hammer. “Did you decide what we were planting in it?”

Waiting until after she’d finished with that slat, Ezra nodded, handing her another piece of wood from the pile. “That I did, and I think you’ll be happy with my choice, too.” In fact I know you will. I have heard you talk about wanting to see these blossoms extensively.

Cee scrunched her nose, taking the piece from him and repeating the process. “Me? This is a gift for Clara.”

Again he waited until she’d whacked the nail, all the while watching to be sure that she wasn’t about to smash her own hand. But she didn’t. See? Like a lakefowl to water. Anything she sets her mind to, this one. “It is a gift for Clara, but it was you who pointed out that we all spend time together on the porch, was it not”

“Yeah, but…” She trailed off, taking the next board that was handed to her. “Well, are you going to tell me, Ezra? Or am I going to have to guess?”

He laughed, the sound carrying up onto the porch and again startling Number Four but going unnoticed by Abe. “Actually I am quite confident that you would be able to guess. I’ll even give you a hint.”

Cee narrowed her eyes and pushed her lips to one side. “Fine. What’s my hint?” She continued on with her task of securing the slats that would act as a ladder for the vines of the climbing flowers Ezra had selected.

“They can be found in your favorite bo-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the hint, though, Cee’s eyes widening with wonder. “Novalilies?! Ezra? Are… Did you… Are we planting Novalilies?”

“We are indeed, Birdie.” He grinned. “I knew you’d guess it.”

Novalilies were the flowering vines that grew over the great archway leading to the Bowsum Conservatory - a place that Ezra had taken Clara so many years ago, and one that Cee had read about so many times that he knew that she could see it in her mind without ever having set foot there. They grew quickly and blossomed into soft white flowers that hung down like trumpets. But the real splendor came at night, when the petals, having soaked up the daylight, twinkled like stars against the dark.

“I…” She blinked, a smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t know they could grow anywhere but in the Ephrate.”

“All kinds of things can grow on Kamrea,” he told her. “Thulian, Crater-apples, Novalilies.” With a wink, he passed her the last slat for the side that they were currently working on, lifting his hand up to tousle her hair. “Even skinny little birds.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly @fific7 @valkblue @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @disgruntledspacedad @novemberrain221 @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfangirl @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

#ezra (prospect)#ezra (prospect) x oc #ezra (prospect) x oc clara #cee (prospect)#ezra (prospect) fic #ezra x clara #point of no return #PoNR #writing prompt #ezra prospect fanfiction #prospect fic #pedro pascal character #pedrostories

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 11 months

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Ooh, could I read a little more about Petrichor? I love that word.

Hi! Thank you for asking, you absolutely can read more about Petrichor!! (I love that word, too. And the feeling. And the smell.)

So Petrichor is the short epilogue series (that I've put off far too long) to Point of No Return - an Ezra story with a female OC named Clara who I basically want to be. The main story follows Ezra and Cee after the events of the movie, back to a place - and a person - that Ezra once called home. It takes place on my version of Kamrea, specifically on a Thulian Grass farm (think tall pink wheat stalks but fluffier like muhly grass). I've gone a little nuts with the lore/details/background of Kamrea as a planet in this series, but one of the main things that is referenced multiple times is the Rain Season (4 to 6 weeks of - guess what - rain) which comes at the end of the harvest. Petrichor will take place during that time, and it will tie up some loose threads from the main story. That's all I can say without spoiling either PoNR or Petrichor, but here's a small snippet that doesn't give too much away:

It was unlike anything she had experienced before.

Ezra and Clara had both talked about the rains that would come to wash over the world and how long they would last. They told her how it would start in drips and trickles, drizzling on and off for a few days as though announcing what was to come, letting everyone know that the monsoon was about to let loose. She heard about and tried to picture the way the streams would rise and spill over their banks, the clear water flooding the forest floor. But until she saw it running down the window panes, pooling in puddles on the lawn and turning the pressed dirt driveway to mud, Cee had no real context for the magnitude of Kamrea’s storm season.

This is more water than I’ve ever seen.

Leaning her temple against the cool glass, she looked out and up at the sky, at the endless churning of slate gray and deep purple clouds. The occasional rumble of thunder tumbled down as one cluster crashed into another. Sometimes it was low and distant, drumming out a slow beat. Other times it sounded like it was right over their heads, shaking the walls and rattling things on shelves. The first truly loud boom had made her jump and gasp, her eyes widening before they rushed to find Ezra’s across the table, frightened for a second that the roof might cave in or the ground would collapse.

“Not to worry, little bird.” He’d said it with a wink. “We’re safe and sound in here, I guarantee it.”

ask me about my many wips!

#thanks for asking!#maggiemayhemnj #wip game #petrichor #point of no return #ezra (prospect) x oc clara #ezra and clara forever honestly #i'm so excited to get back to them #and cee #and abe of course

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year

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Ezra and Cee working together on a birthday gift for Clara is the story I didn’t know I needed. Their relationship has grown so much since they came back home and I hope this isn’t the last we see of it. Do you have inspo for the flowers? I’m trying to picture them in my head but it’s hard

Hi anon! Hope you’re having a good day and that you’re doing well! It makes me so flippin happy to hear that you enjoyed that little check in with Ezra and Cee. It’s been a while and I’ve missed the PONR family very much.

I can promise you right now that this will certainly not be the last we see of them.

I mean, I have to at least tell the story of how Number Four joined the crew, right? 😉

Ezra and Cee’s relationship has definitely grown a ton, and I look forward to showing some of that as I fill in the timeline between the end of Point of No Return and where they are now.

To answer your question about the Novalilies, I did look for some reference pictures as I was writing and thinking about them. I imagine the archway leading to the Conservatory (as it exists in my head, for this universe, anyway) to look something like this:

But instead of yellow strands of flowers, they’re white, trumpet-shaped blossoms like these:

I hope this helps you get a clearer picture of them! Thank you so much for sending this, and thank you SO MUCH for reading my work. I appreciate it endlessly! 🌾🌸

#thanks anon!#ponr asks #point of no return #taking root #ezra (prospect) fanfic #novalily references #ezra and cee make a great team #ezra (prospect) x oc clara

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 years

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💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

Hi lovely!! Hope you're having a good night/day. Thank you for dropping in with this. I suck am usually not good at self-promotion, so I appreciate the chance to give it a try.

When it comes to one-shots (even though technically I've written other pieces within the same universe), I think I'm most proud of A Clumsy Romance. It's a Nico (house comes with a bird) x f!Reader story that's based on the movie Before Sunrise, and I had a great time writing it. Nico is just a really whimsical, interesting, romantic character who is also sort of a blank slate, and he was a lot of fun for me to play with and gave me a lot of opportunity to sort of stretch my legs so to speak.

Series-wise, I will always have a top shelf place in my heart for Point of No Return. It's my take on a Prospect prequel/sequel, featuring Ezra, Cee & my favorite OC to date, Clara. I had a blast with the worldbuilding and scene setting, and getting the chance to expand on such interesting characters (while creating my own little fictional people) was also a joy. And the best part? It's actually complete.

Unlike Survivor Blues, which is the Series WiP I am most proud of. That one is Joel Miller x f!Reader, and I have SO MUCH MORE planned for it and I MUST get back to it soon because I am itching to write some post-apocolyptic violence. (and some very bloody knuckles gripping fabric.)

#thank you for this Jules!#stealyourblorbos #my own top picks #a clumsy romance #nico (house comes with a bird) x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x oc #joel miller x f!reader #point of no return #survivor blues

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 years

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Asteria

June Drabbles 2022 Day 1 - Fairytales

A/N: I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this list by @creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! Kicking it off with a flashback for Ezra and Clara from the PoNR universe, because no one else comes to mind so quickly when I hear “fairytale”.

Word Count: 1,816

Warnings: slight hint at smut but nothing explicit - Ezra is one charming little shit and he knows it.

Summary: Clara tells Ezra another one of Kamrea’s constellation myths about Kevva and the depth of her love.

Ezra’s thumb swept slowly over the base of Clara’s wrist as she spoke, his fingers laced through hers and latched over her knuckles.

“...Hixeo thought that he had finally found a way to punish her for the crime of loving Kamrea more than she loved him. He had his loyal jata bahlu dig up a hundred boulders from the rocky terrain of the moon -” Clara raised the hand that was not joined with Ezra’s to point out divots on the lunar surface - “and then as the sand bear slept, he threw them down, bombarding Kevva’s beloved planet with them, trying to destroy all the beauty that she had created here.”

The deep purple sky was clearest at the tail end of the Harvest season. On those nights, when Ezra was home with her instead of spending his cycles on Bahkroma’s Green Moon, the two of them would sprawl themselves out in the clearing between the Thulian fields, backs to the ground and their eyes on the stars while Clara used the constellations to teach him the folktales and myths that she grew up hearing. It was a tradition that started the very first season that he spent there on Kamrea, and while Ezra always listened intently, enraptured with the stories about deities in the stars and the way that Clara told them, he also always found a way to connect the magic and the legends back to the two of them and his love for her.

Wonder what it’s gonna be this time.

Ezra hummed and Clara turned her head towards him at the sound, the blades of grass where they lay between the fields tickling her scalp as it threaded through her hair. Flicker crickets glowed orange and gold, little orbs of light illuminating the lawn as they played their strings, their shine reflected in Ezra’s eyes as he looked at her. “Well since this is your home planet, Huckleberry, it is abundantly clear that Hixeo was not successful in his jealous endeavor to eradicate all forms of splendor and wonder from it, so I am eager to find out more about his failure.”

Warming at his words, Clara squeezed his hand, eyes slipping shut and a smile spreading over her lips. “Ezra,” she shook her head, letting out a groan that turned into a sigh. I love this man so damn much. He tugged her close enough for her to lift her head from the grass to let it rest on his shoulder. “You really can’t keep your charm in check even for the length of one story, can you?”

“See that is where you are mistaken, Clara.” Wrapping his right arm around her to hold her in place, he tilted his head down to press his nose against the curve of her forehead. “It isn’t a matter of charm, I am simply stating a fact.” She felt him shift so that he could drop a kiss to her temple. “Besides.” Another peck turned into a grin against her skin. “I have not had to use my charm on you in a long while.”

Oh, he’s... The smile on her own face grew wider as she pushed herself up onto one elbow to peer down at him. “You’re proud of that, aren’t you?” I know you are.

Between the stars and the flicker crickets, there was just enough light to make out the small crease that formed between his brows whenever his expression turned serious. “Of course.” He nodded, winding both arms around her then, hands drifting down to the dip in her spine at the small of her back. “It was through the exercise of my charm that I earned the privilege to call you mine.” You sure have. Blinking, he relaxed his face, features softening into adoration. “As a man who deals in valuable gems, I am acutely aware of what treasure looks like, and only a fool would feel anything but pride at knowing that they have secured the greatest riches not just that the Fringe has to offer, but in all of existence itself.”

“Ezra…” Clara lifted one hand to his cheek, tracing the scar there with the tips of two fingers. How did I get so lucky? Shaking her head, she slid her palm over the side of his face, skating over his patchy beard so that her fingers could tangle in his curls. “I don’t know a damn thing about Aurelac but I still know I struck it rich when I met you.”

Leaning down she caught his lips in a kiss that lingered lazily before it deepened, her tongue gliding over his to pull a small groan from his chest. One large hand came up from where he held her to cradle the back of her head, but where Clara assumed he had changed his position to change the angle of the kiss and open it even more, he surprised her by ending it. Or rather, pausing it long enough to tease her with a murmured, “Tell me again which one of us is being charming, Huckleberry?”

Laughing into another kiss - this one quick and light - she smacked his shoulder playfully. “I have never been charming for one single second of my life, Ezra, and you know that.” Clara felt his chuckle move through his body, followed by the heft of his arm as it dropped down to drape over her shoulder blades. “Now do you want to hear the rest of this story, or would you rather tease me for loving you as much as I do?” She arched one eyebrow high and attempted to give him a stern look, but her just-kissed lips refused to purse, pulling up to curve into a smile almost immediately.

“Oh, I intend to tease you relentlessly tonight, my Clara.” She hardly held back a whimper as he tilted his face to nip at her jaw. Oh, shit. He… She sucked in a breath as his lips left her skin and he let his head drop back to the grass so that he could look at her fully, all signs of the heat he’d just sparked in her gone from his expression, one of genuine curiosity in place. “But first I insist that you finish your tale. Tell me what happened after Hexio pummeled Kamrea with his boulders.”

Clara sighed, rolling off of Ezra’s chest to slot herself against him the same way she had been at the onset of her story. She kept one arm slung over his stomach, and he topped it with his opposite one, the fingers of that hand drawing lazy circles in the crook of her elbow. Nuzzling her cheek into the space between his shoulder and chin, she finished telling him the myth.

“Well, Hexio’s plan to ruin Kamrea’s beauty backfired, because as the pieces of moonrock hit the planet to form craters, spores that hadn’t been viable on the moon were released into the fertile soil, and the Crater Oaks started to grow in the deep ravines that the boulders left behind. Before long there were forests and those forests became home to animals, and Kevva only found it more beautiful, only grew to love it more.”

“I would be willing to wager that this only enraged Hexio further, hmm?” His touch roved absently over her bicep. “What was his response?”

“It did.” Clara let out a breath as Ezra lightly scratched the ridges of his nails over the top of her shoulder before sliding his hand all the way back down to the bend in her arm. She swallowed as he began his path all over, drawing circles around the bone in her elbow. Thought you weren’t teasing yet, Ezra. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she cleared her throat and continued. “He became even more jealous, even more angry that Kevva would dare to fall more in love with life on this planet than with him, a being of power like herself. So he used his influence on the tides to pull all of the water on Kamrea away from the Crater Oaks and the forests and the things that Kevva cherished. He knew that without water they would wither and die leaving only dry trunks and stumps that she would surely turn away from.”

“The Lakelands,” he muttered, touch becoming slightly less controlled as it moved up her body again.

“Mmhmm,” she answered. “All the way on the other side of Kamrea. Hexio was confident then, thinking that he had finally destroyed the thing that had been distracting Kevva from giving him her heart. But he underestimated Kevva’s devotion to Kamrea. He never thought that she would commit herself to carrying water by the bucketload from one side of the planet to the other just to keep the trees and forests alive, to keep the ground fertile and the creatures happy.” Unwinding her arm from beneath his, she pointed up at the constellation that she had indicated before the story began. Using one finger she connected the dots of starlight to show him the figure of a woman carrying water. “That’s why just before the rains come you can see her in the Western sky with her buckets, bringing water from the Lakelands to the farms and forests.”

It had always been one of Clara’s favorites, the story depicting a love so deep and pure that there were no limits on what Kevva would do to preserve it. But it wasn’t until she had fallen in love with Ezra that she truly felt the meaning of it. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for this man. Not a damn thing.

“Without a doubt, that was one of the best stories that I have ever heard, and as I’ve traveled far and wide through the galaxy I have heard a great many of them.” Clara knew that to be a fact, because he was never short on stories to share. “And for the record, I completely understand why Kevva became so enamored with this planet.”

“Oh do you?”

“I do.” He said it firmly. “And I’ve changed my mind about teasing you, Huckleberry.” You have? Before she could choke out the question, he was answering it, turning to speak directly into her ear. “Instead of teasing you tonight, I am taking you to bed, and I am going to show you devotion that would make Kevva herself blush brighter than the Thulian.”

Clara’s whole being heated at his words, and as he rose to his feet and pulled her with him, she was stunned that she was able to get her next words out. “Loft’s closer than the bedroom, Ezra.” Tugging him away from the house and towards the barn, she watched his grin scoop mischievously up into his cheeks, and then the two of them were following the light of the flicker crickets through the gaping barn doors.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

#ezra (prospect) x oc #ezra (prospect) x oc clara #ezra (prospect)#pedrostories #pedro pascal character #prospect (film)#point of no return flashback #point of no return #PoNR #june drabbles 2022 #asteria #day 1 - fairytale #creativepromptsforwriting

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

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Point of No Return -Masterlist

Summary: The Aurelac rush is over, Cee and Ezra narrowly escaping being stranded on the toxic Green Moon with their lives. But they’re not out of the woods just yet. With no one else to turn to, Cee reaches out to the only person whose contact information Ezra has on him- Clara, the woman he walked away from five years earlier. With so much time gone by and so many old wounds what does Ezra’s sudden re-emergence in Clara’s life mean for either of them?

*this is a prequel/sequel series to the events of the movie Prospect.*

Warning: This series will deal with death, murder, violence, injury, illness, loss and other such topics. Please see individual chapters for specific warnings or feel free to message me if you are unsure.

Part One - WC: 5.8k

Part Two - WC: 4.3k

Part Three - WC: 4.1k

Part Four- WC: 5.5k

Part Five- WC: 4.7k

Part Six- WC: 4.9k

Part Seven- WC: 5.9k

Part Eight- WC: 4.8k

Part Nine- WC: 5.5k

Part Ten - WC: 5.9k

Part Eleven- WC: 5.7k

Part Twelve - WC: 5.7k

Part Thirteen - WC: 6.5k

Epilogue: Petrichor - coming soon!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Related One- Shots:

Rise & Shine

Some Call it Luck

Belvedere

Asteria

Carpe Diem

The Ghosts That We Knew

Heirloom

Taking Root

Ezra artwork by @alraedesigns

Ezra reading Cee’s notebook by @valkblue

Mood Board by @lowlights

Smiling Ezra by @alraedesigns

asks are open in regards to this story and these characters!

#ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect #ezra (prospect) x oc #cee prospect #pedrostories #cee (prospect)#point of no return #PoNR #ezra fanfiction #ezra prospect fanfiction #oc: clara #prospect film #prospect fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

Text

Point of No Return - Part One

A/N: Hi. So I have not been able to stop thinking about Ezra and Cee and the world that they inhabit in the film Prospect since I first watched it a few months back. My initial reaction to the movie was that I craved more from that world. There is so much rich detail and background for the story to take root in and the characters (and what they have been through) were so compelling to me that it left me with so many questions. Who was Ezra before he runs into Cee? What did he leave behind to peruse his goals on the Green? Who could Cee become without the constant shadow of her father looming over her? With someone supportive in her life instead? What other types of prospecting or harvesting jobs are there out there and what drove Ezra to Aurelac? What other kinds of weird food items and technology exist in this world?! So... I let my imagination go a little off the rails and this was the result.

This story is honestly a blast for me to write so I truly hope that if you read it you enjoy it. Please feel free to ask me any questions or let me know what you think. If you would like to be added to this taglist just send me a message or leave me a comment and I will gladly add you! :)

Warnings: discussion of death, injuries, illness, loss

Summary: It’s been five long years since Clara last saw Ezra, the man she loved with more of herself than she ever thought possible, the two falling apart under the weight of a heavy loss in the family. Most of the time she has enough work on her Thulian farm to keep her thoughts from him, but the harvest season always dredges up memories both precious and painful. She tries to push the emotions away to focus on her work, but when she receives a message from a mysterious caller it becomes clear that that will simply be impossible this time.

Word Count: 5.8k

It wasn’t quite morning yet.

Only a sliver of the harvest star was visible over the horizon, its bright amber light muted by the lingering vestiges of night. Soon it would rise fully, igniting the landscape with its burning orange glow and seemingly setting the Thulian Grass ablaze. Dawn cracked quickly into day during the harvest season, giving farmers longer hours to cut back the stalks and collect the ripened pollen. For now though, the fields that surrounded the small house still appeared to be a soft dusty rose color, the tops of the tall grass ruffling in the cool breeze.

Clara stifled a yawn against the backs of her bent fingers as she headed down the creaky stairs. It was dark and quiet in the house and there was no reason other than habit for her to be hiding her sleepiness. Abe didn’t care if she was tired so long as his bowl was full, and it would be hours before the grumpy old cat would move from his preferred nesting spot in the bedroom’s window seat. Lazy beast. The farm hands stayed in a loft over the barn that her father had converted into living quarters years ago, when the farm was in its prime and they’d needed extra help almost year round. It comfortably housed up to ten, though now only half that many workers occupied the space for just a few weeks at a time. Aside from Clara and the cat, the rest of the house was empty.

She let another yawn slip out, this one unhindered as she brought both hands up to scoop her hair back, fingers deftly winding an elastic band around it. Securing her shoulder length chocolate brown waves in a ponytail, she pulled it tight as she descended the last few steps. A few strays got wound around and between her ring and middle fingers and she pulled them loose with a sigh. What’s a few more grays gone? Wiggling her digits she let the strands fall free and reached the bottom of the staircase, immediately turning left into the small kitchen.

Through the circular window above the sink she could see the light on in the loft, a pinprick of golden yellow across the sea of pink in the pre-dawn. Siggi’s got ‘em up already. She smiled and flicked the wall switch to light up the room. Good. The lost and confused 19 year old college dropout who had turned up looking for work during the harvest season seven years ago and had never so much as held a shovel let alone swung a sickle had developed into quite the farmer, proving to himself and everyone that the scholastic route had never been for him. Even when her father had to retire and they had to downsize the operation, Clara kept Siggi on as the full time manager- the only other full timer apart from herself. While he still stayed in the loft for the three weeks during harvest, he had moved into an apartment over the hill in town with his girlfriend, making the forty five minute commute for the rest of the year by hovercar.

He didn’t know it yet, but at the close of the current season Clara planned on talking to him about his interest in buying the farm from her one day. It’s gotta go to someone. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d want her family’s property to go to. She had a cousin with two kids on Central but his only interest in the land would be in selling it, the man telling her so point blank. It didn’t surprise her since he had never actually set foot there, but keeping the farm within the family was less important to Clara than making sure it went to someone who would continue to care for it as she had. With Seth gone and no children of her own, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather it go to than Siggi. It won’t be for another nine or ten years at least but… She sighed, opening the cabinet above the sink and pulling down the large white canister of high-caf tea. But it would give him time to save if he is interested and- she peeled the lid off the canister, spooning three heaping scoops of the dried leaf powder into the brew pouch on the counter kettle. And it would make me feel better knowing it was going to him and not developers or contractors.

Frowning, she was reminded of what happened with Briggs’ farm, just a few miles from her own front door, when the man became too old and sick to work and couldn’t keep up the payments. With no one to take the reins from him, the land had gone up for auction, ending up in the hands of some rich Central asshole like her cousin. Last year, for the entire three week harvest while she and Siggi and the other seasonal hires toiled in the Thulian fields, they were treated to the constant grinding and pounding of construction machinery as it ripped up Briggs’ once fruitful farm and readied it to be built up into luxury condominiums. I won’t let that happen. Not to my fields. Not… Clara jammed the start button on the kettle, swallowing a lump of emotion before shaking her head. Stop it, Clara, it’s too damn early for that.

With the Aurelac rush drying up though, prospectors, freighter captains, jewelers, investors and anyone else who had made their money in the rare root gems were cashing out and looking for places to spend their wealth in comfort. Kamrea was a first choice for many of them, and for many reasons. It was a temperate planet with only a few weeks of what could be considered winter weather, the air was breathable, the water potable, and the ground exceptionally fertile, Thulian, Crater-Apples, Potatoes, countless herbs and a cornucopia of other produce grew in abundance there. Its close proximity to Central, where most of the galaxy’s Aurelac crews took off for the Bakhroma System, also meant that a large Kamrean population worked in the industry. It was why finding seasonal help on the farm was never a problem during the height of the rush- men and women from all over the galaxy had made the planet their temporary home between runs to the Green Moon, finding themselves in need of work between digs.

Like Ezra.

The kettle hissed, steam beginning to rise as the dark purple liquid started dripping into the waiting thermos, and though the air that came through the open windows was warm Clara shivered. She placed her hands on the countertop and closed her eyes. If she took a deep breath and tuned out all but the sound of the tea brewing, she could call back a memory that was almost strong enough to feel- His arms winding around her from behind, lips brushing first along her shoulder whether she was wearing a shirt with sleeves or not, then landing close to her ear as he pressed his body to hers. His scent, like the forest and the fields, the stream and clean sweat mixing with the herbal smell of the tea and completely intoxicating her as she leaned back into his broad chest. “You know, you make it exceedingly difficult for me sometimes, Huckleberry”. The tip of his nose tracing the edge of her ear before his patchy beard raked along the skin behind it as she, breathless, struggled to ask him what it was she made so difficult. “Determining whether I am awake-“ A kiss to her temple, his arms tightening around her. “-Or still only dreaming of having you in my embrace.”

Opening her eyes she felt the warmth that steeping in the memory had given her leave in a rush. It always did, always hurting more than the ache she’d used it to soothe. This season would mark five years since the last time she’d stood on the porch and watched him go. Since he left. Since I… The kettle finished brewing, clicking as the drip stopped abruptly. Since I told him not to come back until he was done with… She could feel the sting of tears forming in the corners of her eyes and forcibly blinked them back. It was without a doubt her biggest, heaviest regret and it weighed on her heart most ruthlessly at this time of year, the season that had brought him to her and that had also become the annual reminder of his departure from her life.

Pulling the first thermos from the kettle, she twisted the cover on before any of the heat could escape. She went on autopilot then, setting it aside and replacing it with a second, going about the process and scooping more powder into the brew pouch. She had two more to fill after after that to ensure the whole crew had enough energy to get through the long shift. Clara had very few rules on the farm, but one that she was adamant about was that stim chew was not allowed on the premises. She was happy to provide as much high-caf tea as her crew could drink though, the natural substance working just as well to invigorate without giving the user shakes and headaches. And it wasn’t addictive.

She used the time to pull herself together. Stupid. She knew the risk that came with thinking about him, giving in to such a powerful memory about the man she still loved so powerfully no matter how they’d both let each other down in those last few months before he left. Her pain, her anger, the things she felt when she had told him not to come back if he was going on the path he had laid out for her, they were real and she didn’t blame herself for feeling them. She was grieving, not just for Seth, but for Ezra, too. He wasn’t the same after… And then that next trip, when he- An uneven breath burst from her lips, the next few coming out the same way. I never should have let him go back after we lost Seth.

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the heels of her palms, blotting the rest of that thought from her mind. His decisions were clouded by grief then, too. She saw that now, understood it. He loved her brother just as much as she did, and he had taken that loss extremely hard. So hard that he couldn’t be there for her, or at least that’s what he had convinced himself of. I wasn’t there the way he needed me to be either though. I… pushed him away. And I never pulled him back.

She switched out the thermos again, twisting the lid on, setting it down, the grainy sound of the scoop moving through the tea powder punctuating the silence as she refilled the brew pouch a third time. Outside the sky was lightening to a pale whitish blue, roughly one third of the harvest Star peeking over the curve of the planet. She’d lived there all her life but it was still breathtaking how quickly the enormous orb appeared in the sky this time of year, how with each blink it rose higher and got brighter until suddenly your eyes couldn’t drink the vivid colors in quickly enough, everything as bright as it had ever been intended to be. It was beautiful and it made her thankful to call the place her home.

Though without Ezra, without Seth, could she really call it that?

Yes. The thought came swiftly as she watched the fields come alive in vibrant hues of pink, flecks of pollen starting to shine in the first rays of light. She felt it in her chest, a swelling that made her take a breath. It made her conscious of her own heartbeat. This is where she and Seth grew up, running through the hollow Thulian stems in the winter or collecting smooth stones from the stream after the rainy season. This is where she learned everything she knew about farming and hard work from her father, the man also teaching her to save time for joy and celebration. This is where she met Ezra, where they spent three years so deeply and fully in love that she could still feel him after more than that much time apart. If this wasn’t her home, filled with all of that, then she never had one.

By the time she placed the fourth thermos under the kettle the kitchen was bathed in radiant harvest light. A slight orange tinge touched everything as the Star finally rose completely over the horizon. Clara turned back towards the doorway and reached out to click the light switch off. Artificial light was only necessary a few hours a day during the harvest weeks. It would still be light out when they finished work for the day, all of them likely falling into bed before needing to turn on a lamp once it finally got dark at night. Turning back around she saw that Siggi had doused the loft light, too. They’re probably heading down now. She gave herself until the final thermos was full to finish composing her emotions, closing them off as she twisted the lid on.

There was hard work to be done, and it required her full attention and awareness. The tools they used to harvest the puffy pink pollen sacks were sharp and she’d seen with her own eyes what they could do in the hands of someone who wasn’t thinking clearly. For her own safety and for that of her fellow harvesters, she couldn’t bring those feelings- the way she ached with regret and how badly she missed him and how thoroughly terrified it made her to wonder why he had still not come back- into the fields. There was no place for it there, not now.

She packed the four thermoses of tea and a few reusable cups into a large satchel along with a small case of Bits Bars. They weren’t her first choice but they were fast, available nutrition for the long day. Full of flavor, the package boasted. Kevva knows that’s a lie. She rolled her eyes. As soon as the season was wrapped up she always cooked a huge meal for the whole team, and anyone who had ever worked for Clara or her father knew that they had a place at her table for any and all holidays. But no one complained about the provided rations during the season, so she tried not to feel guilty about the offering.

Adding a first aid field kit to the bag, she closed it and set it down on the small table before stooping to open the lower cabinet. Most importantly… Pulling out the bag of kibble, she filled Abe’s bowl in the corner of the kitchen and refreshed his water. Alright, your highness, you’re all set. She smiled to herself as she stowed the kibble. Though the rotund striped orange cat spent most of his time snoozing in the window and typically couldn’t be bothered with the goings on of daily life on the farm, he was affectionate towards Clara, jumping into her lap at the end of the day, rubbing his chin on her knuckles and generally giving her something to look forward to. Ezra used to joke about the cat’s laziness, citing the one occasion when Abe had actually stood by and allowed a family of channel rats to move into the basement, but Clara knew that the man had a soft spot for her pet, even as he grumbled about having to deal with the pests himself. Though he’d been born feral, Clara finding him as a kitten, yowling alone in the barn, Abe had never been a hunter. Without his bowl of kibble he would be completely lost. But despite his pacifist, helpless nature meaning that she could never count on him to keep rodents out, Clara would be lost without the little furry lump, too.

Abe taken care of for the day and the necessary supplies packed, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out the back door onto the porch that wrapped around the old farmhouse. The field directly to the right of the house had already been processed, the pink pollen stored in the silver silo attached to the barn, ready to be tumbled and bagged as soon as the other two fields had been harvested. The sweet smelling powder was used in a number of products ranging from paint to perfume either to add fragrance or color, and because Clara kept with her father’s method of only using natural fertilizers, the Thulian farmed on her property was even rated for use in food and drink. Though the field that was finished was the smallest, she and the team had made good time with it, getting it squared away in only four days and giving themselves a bit of a cushion when it came to getting the other two larger fields done. The time crunch really only applied while the pollen was still on the stalk, the ripening process halting as soon as the sacks were sliced from the tops. But having a little bit of leeway took some of the pressure off and that made keeping morale up much easier.

Once Clara had turned the corner, coming around to the front of the house, she saw Siggi striding across the field, dragging harvesting equipment behind him. He raised one arm over his head, the bright light glinting off his flaxen hair as he waved to her. She returned the gesture, then pulled the bandana that was tied around her neck up over her mouth and nose. The Thulian wasn’t toxic, but it made your nostrils and throat tickle if inhaled in large quantities. It also stained skin and hair and clothing, especially when mixed with sweat, but there wasn’t much to be done about that aside from much needed showers at the day’s end. Ready for work, she walked down off the porch and made her way towards where her team was setting up at the far side of the middle field.

Had she waited just a second or two longer she may have heard the beep coming from the communicator screen that hung next to the light switch near the door in the kitchen. The call that came through then might have been answered instead of being directed to her inbox, continuing to beep every thirty seconds until the message was retrieved and played.

Eight hours later, Clara trudged back up to the house to refill two of the tea thermoses, this time with cold water. Wiping the back of her hand across her sweat slicked forehead, she could feel the pink powder leaving a rosy streak across her skin. Yanking the bandana down off her face, she licked her dry lips and opened the door to the kitchen. The air cooling system whirred gently and the conditioned air hit her face instantly as she stepped inside, drying the smudge of pollen on both her face and over her knuckles. It was a hot one, and she was glad to step inside for water and for the reprieve. She’d told Siggi and the others to take a break in the shade until she returned, and peering out the circular window she could see them sprawled out in the open doorway of the barn. Good.

As soon as she placed the thermoses in the sink to rinse them out, Abe came scuttling into the kitchen, meowing loudly and circling her ankles. She bent down to stroke his hunched back as he continued to cry out. “Hey Mister, what’s got you all in a-”

But the beep of the message indicator on the communication screen cut off the rest of her question, and she rose, turning in the direction of the machine. Abe didn’t like the sound that the machine made when there was a message waiting, she knew that. “Sorry, little guy,” she muttered to the cat as she walked over to the wall to stop the sound. He meowed back and she had to laugh at how animated he was. “I know, I know, I’m the worst, leaving you alone with the big bad beep.” He headbutted her calf as she started entering her passcode to play the message, and as soon as he heard the automated voice of the inbox menu, he trotted happily out of the kitchen. Clara shook her head, still chuckling at the cat, his heavy footsteps still audible from the next room.

Sighing, she pressed the play button, ready to hear some recording pertaining to new market guidelines or offers from developers looking to purchase her land. She leaned casually against the doorframe, finger hovering over the delete button, ready to press it if her assumptions were correct. Who else would it be anyway? The machine beeped, and the message played.

There was a pause, only a shaky breath coming through the speaker, but already enough to tell her that the message was not a recording. Dropping her hand away from the screen, she looked more closely at the number, the three digit code at the beginning making her forehead crease with confusion. 763? That’s… Double checking the chart that was installed on the screen, she confirmed what she had thought. That’s the Med Center on Central.

She had no time to process that information though, the caller finally speaking, the young female voice sounding thin and anxious. “H-hello? This...this message is for Clara.”

Who is that? Her heart pounded at the fear and uncertainty in this girl’s voice- this girl who knew her name and where to reach her. She stood up straight then, but kept her hold on the doorframe, a strange dizziness striking her as the message continued.

“Clara? I’m,” she took another shuddering breath and cleared her throat, “My name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with,” a sharp inhale, a stunted release of air, “With a man named Ezra and-”

All the air in the room was gone as she heard his name, the walls falling away and the ceiling tumbling to the floor. Ezra. She heard the gasp that fell from her lungs as she tightened her grip on the frame, her knees buckling slightly. Ezra. He’s alive, he’s- She realized then that the message was still playing but the rushing in her ears had drowned it out and she couldn’t hear the rest of the girl’s trembling words. Wait. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and brought a quivering hand up to the control panel to punch in the code that would restart the message. If she’s calling from the Med Center that means… Her blood ran cold as she stared at the machine intently this time, waiting to hear the rest of it.

“H-hello? This...this message is for Clara. Clara? I’m- my name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with...with a man named Ezra and I- he...he needs your help.” There was another pause and Clara heard a sniff followed by a soft whine before the girl spoke again. “Please, I don’t know… there’s no one else for me to call. He’s...he’s hurt and...and sick and all I have is your contact information and-” Clara’s chest clenched as the girl’s words started coming more rapidly, the adrenaline that was shaking her voice causing the speed at which she spoke to double. “Please, if you don’t help him they’ll just...they’ll put him in the system and…” Clara shivered at the thought of Ezra or anyone she cared about being shoved off into the poorly run social system of healthcare. “Please, Clara, call this number back, please. He… the only thing he’s said in the last twenty four hours has been your name.”

Tears ran down her cheeks freely then despite not knowing when they started. She knew that they were leaving painted streaks of Thulian dye where they trailed but there was no stopping them. A small sob fought it’s way free even as she tried to silence it to take down the number that the girl, Cee, had given her. Ezra. She could feel his warm breath on the crest of her shoulder, his strong arms flexing around her, her heart absolutely jubilant to know that he was alive. But in the next beat she clenched her eyes closed as the message played again in her mind. He’s hurt and sick. A sudden terrible twisting sensation started up in her stomach then, and she was helpless against the thought that those words conjured- that the cruelty of the universe was about to rear its hideous head again and steal him from her the second she got him back. Another sob, this one more ragged, ripped itself free. Ezra…

There was no doubt in her mind or in her heart or her soul that she would be calling back. She knew without hesitation that she would do whatever was asked of her in order to provide what she could for the man. But even though she spent years wishing she could take back the last things she had said to him, his reemergence in her life, so shrouded with danger and darkness left her paralyzed. Once she had the number copied, she turned and slid her back down the wall until she plopped onto the ground, the room still spinning behind her closed eyes. Ezra.

She knew the man she met back when her father hired him, the man she had gotten to know throughout that season. She knew the man that she fell hard and fast in love with, and she knew the man who had come back broken once before. She knew the man she had loved and lost but she had no idea who this man was now. Would there be anything left of the Ezra she’d known? Was there anything left of her that he would recognize?

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, tears silently running down her face in pink streams, her eyes focused on the far wall, but it had been long enough to draw Siggi’s curiosity, Clara coming out of her stupor only when she registered the man kneeling in front of her and snapping his fingers.

“Clara? Hey, Clara, c’mon look at me, will ya?” There was concern in his voice, and as she blinked back to reality she saw it swirling in his eyes, too, their dark blue depths clearing only when he noticed that she seemed to notice him. “Hey,” she sighed in relief, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You scared me for a minute, thought you overheated there, boss.” Clara tried to respond but could only swallow the lump that formed in lieu of words. “Boss?” Siggi’s brow furrowed again, smudges of Thulian powder drying in the creases there. “Hey, Clara, what h-”

“It’s Ezra, Sig.” She was finally able to summon up enough vocal strength to respond, and even then her voice came out in a thin whisper, like the girl on the message. “He’s… he’s alive and I-” That was as much as she could get out before her eyes swam and tears clogged up her throat again. It was as much as he needed- Siggi had been there for most of their relationship. Ezra had even contributed quite a bit to his training on the farm the first year he was there, Siggi developing a sort of mentorship with the man for the short while they worked together. And he knew how it had wrecked Clara when he had left five years ago.

“Oh, shit, Clara…” She felt his hand squeeze the top of her shoulder as he sat next to her before opening his arm for her to lean into him, transitioning from employee to friend- family- in that moment. He let her cry into his shirt, not caring that it was soaking pink stains into the collar. After a few hefty sobs left her empty for the time being, he spoke again. “Listen, I’m gonna go back out with the guys and finish up for the day.” He pulled back and made her look him in the eye as he continued. “You take all the time you need, call whoever you have to call and… if you haveta go anywhere, Clara, you go, hear me?” He nodded confidently and she tearfully nodded back. “Me’an the team’ll take care of whatever we have to.”

I know you will, Sig. She leaned forward and hugged the young man who reminded her so much of Seth in so many ways, but who was so much himself in just as many. “Thank you,” she managed, knowing that he’d hear everything those two words really meant. He helped her up off the floor then, and she waited until he had refilled the two water thermoses and left, the screen door swinging shut on its hinges behind him.

The air filtration system hummed and the screen on the wall, though no longer beeping, still flashed with the message that she hadn’t deleted yet. Clara played it one last time before calling back the number that this unknown girl had given her, trying to see if there were any clues she had missed that would tell her what to expect about Ezra’s current state. There were none, just the frightened, desperate way that Cee’s voice made her think of the sparrows that hopped and flitted among the branches of the crater-oak out back. Who are you, Cee?

Taking one final deep breath, Clara entered the combination of numbers that connected her to the Med Center on Central, and the case worker that had been assigned to Ezra.

Extensive bodily trauma resulting in field amputation and infection. A shallow chest wound that had also become infected. Damage to his lungs from the volume of toxic spores he had inhaled while on the Green Moon. She felt herself go numb as the woman on the other end of the phone rattled off the list of things that he was battling. He’d been put into a medically induced coma so that they could focus on bringing the fevers down and getting the infections under control, and as long as that happened within the next day, he would be released from Intensive Care. The case worker explained that Ezra had no other contact, no one else to come for him, and that if Clara couldn’t, or chose not to, he would be turned over to the social system… and so would the girl that had come in with him. She was a minor, and not his biological child, and unless Clara wanted to collect her as well, she’d go into foster care in one of the cities there on Central.

Ezra had only told her some of the stories of his childhood, he and his brother growing up bouncing from home to home, city to city, sometimes even to other planets and once, spending an entire year aboard a freighter without ever setting foot on solid soil. She shivered knowing that no matter who this child was to him, he wouldn’t want her being shoved off on someone else- not when she knew that he hadn’t even told her the worst of his memories. The ones he had shared were bleak enough.

“No, I’ll… I’ll come. For both of them I’ll…” She cleared her throat to speak more clearly, the woman asking her to repeat herself and confirm what she’d just said. “I’ll come.” She said evenly, somehow. “I’ll… tell me where to be and I...I’ll come.”

The woman responded positively, letting her know that she would need to be at the local Med Center there on Kamrea late afternoon the following day. If for some reason his condition worsened overnight and he was unfit for transport, they would give her a call in the morning with new information. If everything went well, the medical team would keep Ezra sedated long enough to get him to Kamrea and back to Clara’s home, the case worker ensuring that they would set her up with whatever medications and dressings she would need to continue to care for him. Her heart pounded in her ears as she agreed to it all, the woman finally asking Clara if she had any further questions.

“The girl?” She heard her own breathless voice ask. “Is… was she hurt at all? Is she sick, too?”

The case worker quickly answered that while the girl, 14, Cee, had also suffered some minor lung irritation from the toxins on the Green, and was slightly underweight and dehydrated upon arrival at the Med Center, she was otherwise in good health with no major injuries. Clara allowed herself a moment of calm, thankful that the girl, this scared, stranger, was alright.

“D-do you know how she...how they came to be traveling together?”

The woman only knew that the girl said her father had been killed on the Green, and that Ezra had protected her and helped her get off of the moon in time to catch the last slingback to the BG-Central freighter. Apparently she was in shock herself and wasn’t willing to say much to anyone, only that she wanted to stay with the unconscious man she arrived with. As there were no missing persons reports out for the girl, and the Med Center had dealt with teens orphaned on the Green before, they didn’t press her for questions, looking only for someone they could pass the problem along to.

“I’ll be there,” Clara stated again before hanging up.

Abe came sauntering back into the kitchen just as Clara entered the code that erased the message, the blinking light going dark. His gentle nudge with the top of his fuzzy head against her ankle was accompanied by a soft meow, as though he’d heard the entire conversation and knew what Clara was feeling at that moment. She let her breath out slowly as she stooped down to scoop the cat up, cuddling him close to her chest, careful not to get too much of the pink powder that coated her clothing on his fur.

“He’s coming home, Abe.” The cat purred at that. “Ezra. He’s coming home.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags, please feel free to let me know! :)

Tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 years

Note

See this picture makes me wonder which galaxy houses Ezra, Clara, and Cee

🥲🥲🥲

Michelle. The fact that you would even mention the PoNR crew in the same context as this image is making me emotional. Thank you for thinking about them. This message truly warmed my heart. 🌸🌾

Also just… how beautiful is our universe, right?! 💫🪐☄️

#now I’m crying about the universe AND this sweet message #thank you michelle!#cannedsoupsucks is an absolute gem #ponr will always have a special place in my heart #and to know you think about it makes me very emotional 🥲#ponr asks #ezra x oc: clara #🌸🌾🌸🌾#james webb images

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

Text

Point of No Return - Part Thirteen

A/N: Hi friends. I hope you are having a lovely night. I am over here having a VERY emotional one, because this here is the LAST part of this series (even though there WILL be an epilogue) and... I am feeling a lot of things about it. If you have been following me for a while- or even if you’re new here- you have likely noticed that I have a slight issue with finishing a story or series in a timely fashion. The number of ongoing WiPs on my masterlist FAR outweighs the number of completed works, but today that number increases by one. The fact that this has been one of my absolute favorite stories to work on in all of my years writing only makes my heart even more soft at this moment, and I want to take this time to sincerely thank everyone who has taken part in this journey with me- especially @something-tofightfor who has talked me off of several ledges throughout the writing of this story. Thank you for all of your support and encouragement, I flippin’ love you!!

Warning: discussion of injury, illness, mention of character death, and hell, a little bit of zest ;)

Summary: The Harvest season has come to a close, another year’s worth of work over... but the close of one season always ushers in the start of another.

Word Count: 6.5k

It wasn’t quite morning yet.

The Harvest Star slept in towards the end of the season, rising nearly an hour later than it did at the onset. When it finally blinked and stretched its rays over the horizon, the light it brought with it was lazy and slow to kindle into flame. Instead of the vibrant orange glow that woke the world only a few weeks prior, a gentle yellow light filled the air, whispering to all those who toiled under its heat in the fields, “you can rest now, you’ve earned it.”

No one had earned it more than Clara.

Ezra watched silently as the morning reached through the window panes to sweep across her still sleeping face. She had fallen asleep on her side facing him, one arm bent beneath her pillow and the other extended in the space between their bodies. As night came to collect the two of them, he had felt her fingers trailing over the veins in his left arm, over his palm, the movement slowing until it stalled completely and her hand curled close to his atop the sheets. Now, the gentle gold starshine fell over her closed eyelids to make them flutter, the individual strands of her lashes picking up the light as they fought to stay shut. Ezra had to fight, too, to resist the urge to trace the soft fringe where it lay against her skin, to find the freckles that dusted her shoulder and connect them with the tip of his index finger, run his thumb over the soft skin of her lips before pressing his own against them.

Let her sleep. Time for all of that later.

There was time for all of that and so much more, now. At that thought, a slow smile stretched across his face to pull his cheeks wide. Bringing his hand to his chin, in part to keep himself from waking Clara, Ezra slid his fingers over the short, patchy stubble that currently covered his jaw and the sides of his face. The pad of his pinky fit perfectly into the divot left behind from his clumsy attempt at taking care of his own grooming the previous night. It wasn’t deep enough to leave a permanent scar, but for now there was a visible mark. Still, it's an improvement. He hadn’t shaved since just before he set out for his last trip up to the Green, his beard already starting to become unruly and overgrown by the time he met Cee, and that had been almost three standard Kamrean weeks ago now. The last two of those weeks had been spent there on the farm, and aside from the three blissful days that had turned out to be nothing but fool’s gold, his infection returning and requiring another round of aggressive medications, he had only been safely out of the woods for the last day and a half. His physical appearance had been the furthest thing from his or anyone’s mind while he fought to survive, to stay with Clara and be there for Cee.

But since the doctor that Clara had spoken with had said that if he made it through the second course of prescribed antibiotics without the fever returning he was in the clear, Ezra had made a decision. In addition to the adjustments that they all were making following his return and Cee’s arrival, he decided that he had to start adjusting to the other aspects of his second chance at life, too. Namely, life without his dominant arm. While his lungs would recover fully albeit slowly over time, there was no restoring an amputated limb. Though the incisions and sutures were already sealed with new skin growth, the wound was still too fresh and new. The bones and muscles in the remainder of his right bicep were still too internally swollen and traumatized for him to be fitted with a prosthetic or to even see a specialist to determine if he was a candidate.

Don’t go weighing your harvest before you’ve finished in the fields, right?

He knew that there was a possibility that he wouldn’t be a candidate to receive a new arm; that the type of injury he had sustained, the amount of disease that had plagued his marrow and tendons could disqualify him from going through that process. That assessment was still months away though; after the rains came and went, after the winter chill fell and lifted, after Siggi and Runa’s upcoming wedding. He didn’t want to give himself false hope about what his life would look like going forward only to be disappointed when that false hope crashed. He knew that there were tasks that he needed to start retraining himself to do left-handed that he would normally use his right or both hands for. Using the restroom and taking a shower had been ungainly at first, but he was able to get by. Eating, so long as he didn’t try to use a knife or a spoon, was also a graceless yet manageable task. Anything that could break or spill if he fumbled it he avoided or asked Cee or Clara for help with, because he didn’t want to create an even more inconvenient situation by making a mess- not after he’d dropped an entire canister of tea powder trying to brew a cup for Clara and ended up throwing the brew basket into the kitchen sink in frustration. He hadn’t tried to do anything as ambitious as write with a pen or tie a shoelace yet, nothing that required real finesse or control. But with the Harvest Dinner coming up- his first in five excruciatingly long years- he wanted to look presentable.

As much as is possible for a man in my position, that is.

And to him, that meant attempting a shave. Ezra had always preferred the close cut he got with a traditional straight edge razor over the less than satisfactory shave he gave himself when he used multi-bladed tools. When he opened the mirrored cabinet in the bathroom of his and Clara’s room to see that she had kept his silver razor, right there in its case, clean and sharp and ready for him, he took it as a sign that he should try to use it. Clara and Cee were downstairs in the kitchen, finishing up with some dishes before turning in, so he took that as a sign, too, that this was one of the tasks that he may as well attempt on his own.

The left side was easy. There was nothing to relearn or change about his technique there; straight edge razors are meant to be used with the same side hand as the cheek you’re shaving, so aside from the ever present silver arch that cut through his left cheek, the shave was smooth and experienced. He’d even done a relatively clean job of foaming up the right side of his face and throat with the brush. But when he brought his left hand across his body to bring the blade up to his cheek, it was clear that it wouldn’t be simple. The first swipe of the razor took off only a layer of white foam, his angle not quite right, so he turned his chin further, trying to correct course for the next attempt. He could feel his grip start to slip, the awkward position of his hand and arm protesting the strange motion, but he tightened his hold on the handle and brought the razor back up anyway.

The shake in his fingers caused the blade to slip even more, and he hissed as it nicked the skin over his jaw. “Fuck,” he bit out, upper lip snared as he turned his cheek to get a better look at the damage. Along with a strip of wiry dark facial hair, he’d removed a small chunk of flesh. Ah, shit. Beads of bright crimson rushed to the raw surface, bleeding red swirls into the white shaving foam that covered the rest of his jaw and throat. Frustration and anger erupted all at once and he threw the razor down into the sink, the heavy metal tool clattering against the porcelain basin dramatically. Letting out a grunt that was close to a growl, he slammed his hand on the counter, sending the canister of shaving cream tumbling to the ground. “Useless fuckin Kevva-damned piece of sh-“

“Hey.”

Clara’s voice came from the doorway behind him, patient and soft, and the tension in his shoulders vanished as he dropped them, letting out a sigh. From anyone else he would mistake her tone of voice as pity, only serving to enrage him further. But not from her. Snapping his eyes up to the glass in front of him, he met her steady gaze in the reflection. Oh, Huckleberry, what did I do to deserve you?

“Clara…” he croaked out her name, turning as she stooped down to pick up the orange striped can, replacing the lid as she stood. “ I didn’t hear you come up. I’m sorry, I did not mean to cause you any-“

“I know, Ezra.” She didn’t let him finish, setting the can on the counter as he leaned back against it. Reaching past him without breaking eye contact, she grabbed the towel that he’d been using and brought it gently to the cut on the right side of his jawline to clean the blood. She pressed lightly with one finger wrapped in the blue fabric against the shallow divot, tilting her head as he raised his hand to encircle her wrist. “Why didn’t you ask me for help, hmm?”

He swallowed, closing his eyes while she swiped the towel over his skin finally staunching the flow. “Because I need to,” he inhaled as she let the cloth fall into the basin of the sink with a damp plop, letting the breath out and opening his eyes. “I cannot rely on you or Cee or others for everything. I need to be able to do things for myself.” He scoffed then, casting his eyes downward, feeling how they were darkening and not wanting to shed that on her. “I need to get used to…to this.” He nodded at his right arm, lifting the stump an inch or two away from his side to emphasize its abrupt end.

Clara placed one hand at his waist, the other sliding along the already trimmed and shaved plane of his left cheek, tenderly turning his attention back to her eyes. “Not all at once you don’t.” She swept her thumb over the rounded top of the arched scar, then elevated on tiptoe to kiss the same place. “And in the meantime, I’d rather not have you carve this face up, Ezra.” She kissed him again. “I happen to like it as is.”

“I am not the capable man that you once knew, Huckleberry.” He shook his head, eyes still locked on hers. “There’s...I am less now.” It felt pitiful to say, pathetic to admit, but a part of him was stuck on the worry that he was no longer enough for a woman like her, no longer enough to be satisfied with his own level of independence. He knew that Clara would never see him that way, that she would never use his situation against him or see him as anything but the man she’d let into her heart, the man that she loved.

But I want to be… I want to be more for you, Clara. More than this.

Her answer unstuck that thought all at once. “You listen to me right now, Ezra.” She swallowed before bringing both of her hands to his shoulders, palms pressed to the seams in the sleeves of the shirt he wore, and he felt the weight of her words before she even spoke them. “You are not less. You never were.” Her head jerked from side to side in a quick motion of dismissal, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she was saying had more than one meaning.

Seth wasn’t your fault.

That was the subtext to her words as she moved her hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, lacing her fingers there. “We’re going to get through this the way we should have in the first place.” He saw the flash of emotion in her eyes, the threat of tears that she pushed aside. He could see the strength of conviction that she felt as she finished. “Together.” She took a deep breath then, leaning into his chest and laying her right cheek against his left, skin to skin so that her next words could travel directly from her lips to his ear. “You will always be everything to me, Ezra. You will never be less.”

It was a moment that Ezra knew he would not forget as long as he lived. “You are the only woman in all of Kevva’s creation that I will ever love, Clara,” he responded, wrapping his arm around her back to hold her close. “And I will never stop.”

He felt the weight in his chest lighten as she ran her fingernails through the hair at the base of his skull. Her soft lips pressed to his cheek once more before she straightened up and pulled back to look at him, and despite the intensity of his feelings for her and the gravity of the things they had just said, he felt a genuine chuckle slip out. Oh, my Huckleberry. Before she could question his reaction, Ezra brought his hand up to her face, pointer finger extended to swipe a dollop of white foam from the tip of her nose. “You had...” he smirked, knowing full well that he looked just as ridiculous with half of his face shaved, the other half still covered in foam as she had looked with it smeared on the tip of her nose.

Her laughter caused her to fall into him again, her warm breath hitting his skin and making him wonder how he ever let something as trivial as a razor work him up. Straightening back up, she finished uncovering the right side of his face. Her hazel eyes focused on what her fingers were doing, one hand tilting his chin to the correct angle, the other skillfully working to match his right cheek to his left, to clean up the rogue patches of hair that wandered down his throat before she trimmed the mustache she never saw him without. He didn’t know how it was possible, but Ezra felt himself fall more in love with her as she worked. When she was done, once she helped him make sure that all of the excess foam and all of the stray hairs were wiped clean, Ezra kissed her more deeply than he had dared to since he had been home.

He rested his large palm over the side of her face as his tongue slid into her mouth, coaxing hers to meet it as he tilted his head. The new angle pulled a sudden sigh from her lungs, as though reminding the both of them what he was still capable of. The sound escaped their sealed lips and he groaned in response to the scrape of her teeth along the fleshy inside of his bottom one, her teasing bite a sensation that he had craved like a starving man during the years that they spent apart and one that he would never take for granted again. Nothing. Not the flip in his heart when she sighed or the feel of her fingers making fists in his curls. Not the burning need to take a breath or the desperate desire to dedicate all of himself to every inch of her. Not a single moment. Never again, my Clara.

They had gone to bed then, continuing the kiss until it devolved into something sloppy and sleepy, dragging the tips of their noses over each other’s skin before pressing their lips and tongues to pulse points, tasting the way that they were speeding up one another’s heartbeats. They let their fingertips and the backs of their knuckles, their palms and the pads of their thumbs find swaths of skin across their necks and backs and abdomens, searching for scars they hadn’t seen before, stretch marks, new clusters of freckles. Though they burned to give each other more, to finally reunite the way that both of their bodies thrummed and vibrated with want to, Ezra felt the way that her touch started to slow, couldn’t fight the way that his own energy was waning. Before he could apologize for not being able to show her just how ardently he loved her, how bottomless his passion for her was, he heard her whisper dreamily into his ear.

“Time for that later, Ezra.” She yawned in the darkness, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against the freshly shaved ridge of his jawline. “So much time now.”

With that she turned her head to lay one more soft kiss to his lips, one that he returned with tenderness, and then she dropped her head to her pillow, letting her fingers follow the length of his arm into the cup of his palm until both of them had fallen asleep.

Now, on the last morning of the harvest, while the last vestiges of the season’s bright peachy light finally overtook the lazy yellow glow, Ezra watched as she slowly blinked her eyes open. He listened for that change in her breathing, for the moment when she sighed herself awake with a delicate whimper, and as soon as he heard it, he reached for her chin, thumb and the crook of his index finger gently pulling it towards him, only pausing when her lips were close enough to brush his. “Rise and shine, Clara.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, dropping his tone an octave and closing the nearly negligible space between their lips so that his meaning could not be misunderstood. “It’s later, Huckleberry.”

— — — — — —

Cee had been busy.

The brew basket for the tea machine needed tweaking so that it could be opened and filled single-handedly. There was only one handrail going down the stairs and it was on the wrong side. There were a number of small adjustments to be made around the house to help Ezra regain his independence, and she had taken note of the things that she could see to herself. So many maintenance based or reparative tasks had been designated as hers for so long that Cee knew her way around a tool kit. She had taught herself how to wire small electronics and appliances, how to take things apart and make changes to springs and latches, and so with Clara’s permission she had begun to retrofit certain things like drawer pulls and door handles.

“Is this your skilled handiwork, birdie?” Ezra had asked the first time he came back downstairs, not needing help because he’d been able to properly brace himself on the banister that she’d added to the other side of the stairs.

“Took it from the basement,” she answered with a shrug. “Clara said no one goes down there so…”

“Well the installation is top of the line, very secure.” He gave her a lopsided grin before narrowing his dark eyes and tilting his head. “Thank you, Cee.”

Those last three words had made all the worry and fear worth it. They facilitated her understanding of what family was- a group of people who tried to make things better for one another by caring.

Following the temporary return of Ezra’s fever, Cee had searched for any distraction she could find that would occupy her mind, giving it something, anything, to do but worry. Runa and Sig had stayed with her for most of the first day of Ezra’s short backslide, the friendly-faced young man doing his best to keep her spirits up, telling her about the upcoming Harvest Dinner and how it was one of the best nights of the year. She knew that he was trying to stay positive, trying to give her something to look forward to in describing the event, but just the thought of celebration while Ezra’s fate was in flux again felt wrong, like a heavy weight in her stomach.

How can we just… but what if he doesn’t…and Clara, how can they expect her to still have a damn party when this is what’s…

It was Runa who had finally been able to start soothing the fear that was again pulsing through Cee’s blood with every beat of her heart. She had tasked Siggi with brewing some tea for the three of them, tossing him a wink before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, at the place where his smile started to pull at his cheeks. He nudged the tip of his nose against hers and nodded, heading directly for the cabinet where Clara kept the tea canister.

I don’t want tea. I want-

“Let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” Runa stood from the small kitchen table where she had been sitting next to Cee, the girl looking up in time to see the woman’s braided hair and beaded earrings sway as she cocked her head towards the screen door.

Cee threw a nervous glance over her shoulder towards the staircase, the halo of light from the upstairs hallway illuminating the wooden stairs. There was no sign of Clara, no creak in the floorboards to signal movement upstairs, and Abe was still curled in an orange ball at the bottom, waiting like the rest of them. Her bottom lip twitched into a thin line as she turned back to nod. “Okay…” she rose to her feet, one hand gesturing behind herself. “But, just...if-”

“When Clara comes down we’ll go right back inside.” She smiled, but something in it felt warm and unforced, genuine and trustworthy. Because she’s not trying to pretend that...that everything is okay. “I promise.”

Cee had followed her out onto the porch then, the woman taking a seat on the steps instead of the bench. The daylight was starting to fade as the star sunk low, half of the fiery peach-pink sphere vanishing behind the treeline. There were still clouds of pollen swirling above the Thulian fields though, meaning that the rest of the farmhands were still out working, even without Clara and Siggi. Life on the farm never stopped, no matter what else was happening, especially as the season came to a close. She silently sat next to Runa, letting out a sigh and leaning her elbows on her knees.

“You know, I get it.” Runa turned towards her, her slender arms crossed over her own knees. “I understand how… scared you feel.”

Cee shook her head. “I…” I doubt it. Cee felt her forehead furrow in confusion at her own thoughts. Runa had been nothing but honest and forthcoming with her, welcoming and warm, giving her no reason at all to doubt her. It was the same sabotage her instincts had tried to pull regarding Clara and Ezra, and she realized it was because she had been taught to trust no one. I didn’t even trust Damon. But the realization came with a second layer- she wanted to trust people. Licking her lips to sweep a stray tear from them, she swallowed and sniffed. “How?” Wiping at her eyes without taking them off of the fields, she felt her right knee start to bounce. “I mean… how can you understand?”

Runa sighed, her eyes raking over Cee’s face. “You know Sig and I are getting married soon, right?” Still unsure of where this was going, Cee nodded. “Well, the man who is going to walk me to the altar in a few weeks’ time? He’s not my,” she rolled her eyes and gestured flippantly with one hand. “I was adopted. My real parents?” She scoffed. “That word… it only means what you let it, Cee.” Runa reached over to brush her fingers through the ends of Cee’s ponytail. Her light touch was soft and comforting and it made Cee feel more guilty about her initial reaction of distrust. “The people who adopted me, here on Kamrea… they don’t look like me. They weren’t there when I was born. But they’re my family, as much as Ezra and Clara are yours now.” Cee gasped, her eyes widening. They… “And I know how terrified I would be if I thought I was going to lose them. But you know what?” she let the hand that had been playing in the wispy strands of the girl’s hair fall to her shoulder. “You have to believe he’s going to be okay. He needs that from you. He’s gonna need you to help him fight, because he’s a fighter, Cee. He’s gonna fight to stay here with you and with Clara. So you need to fight, too, yeah?”

Fight. She needed to fight her conditioning. Her fears. The doubts, the battles that they were all trying to wade through. She had to push back against the tendency to expect the worst, because for the first time in her life she was surrounded by people who deserved the best, who wanted that for her.

Cee furrowed her brow, nodding in spite of the tears that she failed to stifle. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Runa smiled, bringing her thumb up to wipe under Cee’s eyes. “I know this is all new for you. But you’ll see. On Kamrea, we fight for every second. And we celebrate everything.” She let out a small laugh.

Kevva waits, Kamreans don’t.

Human life, compared to the life of a star, a moon, the galaxy, was painfully brief even when nothing intervened to cut it even shorter. The fact that the people who called the fertile planet home sought out every chance to celebrate milestones was not only understandable but beautiful to Cee. They want to add more pages in their stories while they can. Have more things to remember. Just as she realized she wanted to trust people, she found herself craving moments that would turn to cherished memories. But… She had limited experience with celebrations of any kind, but what she did know was that they required work to plan. How is Clara going to- “Runa?”

“Hmm?”

Cee caught her bottom lip between her teeth out of habit before letting it go. “How can there still be a Harvest Dinner?” She shook her head. “Was Sig just saying that to-“

“Siggi only says what he means, Cee.” She used a serious tone but not an angry one. But, how? “Clara told me, as right after you and Ezra got here, that she was going to have to call off the dinner this year.” That makes sense. How is she going to- “And I told her that was absolutely not going to happen.” What? “I told her that this year, we have more of a reason to celebrate than ever.” She must have been able to read the confusion on Cee’s face, because she went on. “Clara has always done so, so much for everyone around her. And she’s never once asked for anything in return.” Cee knew that to be true, firsthand. Runa nodded. “There are so many people who would love to be able to help her now, Cee. So there will be a Harvest Dinner, and Clara won’t have to do a single thing. It’s all being taken care of.”

And it had been.

Now, the Harvest Dinner only hours away, Cee couldn’t keep the grin from her cheeks. She had been busy, changing handles, helping Ezra as she could, and getting things ready for the celebration so that when Runa and the rest came with their dishes and trays, all they would have to do was set them out. She found the folding tables in the barn and dragged them out to the yard, pushing them together to make one long rectangular one. Setting out chairs was next, followed by the little place cards that Runa had written out for her. Cee. Ezra. Clara. She grouped the three of them together, adding the rest in front of the remaining seats. Aldo, Kinney, Marta, Molly, Siggi, Runa. So many people. She found the names of Runa’s brothers, Arlin and Jay, and sucked in a breath as she read the latter of the two- she’d been busy getting to know the two boys, both around her age, as they had been coming to help finish the harvest while Clara was taking care of Ezra.

But Jay had made her smile. He made her cheeks flush with warmth whenever he looked at her, made her stomach fill with butterfly wings the few times he had said her name. When she felt his dark, almost coal black eyes glance her way, she felt a sudden need to inspect her shoes. I… I like him. She smiled to herself, cheeks likely a shade that would match the fluffy bales of Thulian in the silo, and switched the cards around on the table.

Clara. Ezra. Cee… Jay. Arlin. Runa. Siggi.

Before she could talk herself out of switching it back, she turned away from the table and headed inside to shower and get changed. The guests would be arriving soon, and she wanted to look her best for her first Harvest Dinner. Though she was clearly smitten with Runa’s brother, the excitement she felt as she took the stairs two at a time had more to do with the fact that finally, after all of the obstacles there was finally something good and fun and happy for them all to enjoy. Together.

It was her first Harvest Dinner, and before it even started she had just one thought. First one… with my family.

— — — — — —

It felt like a dream.

Clara blinked back tears but her elation kept them coming. Her vision was slightly blurred and watery by the time she sat down at the table, faces and smiles all swimming in the warm rosy gold light of Harvest End, the shorn fields of Thulian acting as a backdrop for her happiness. Music played through speakers that Siggi and Cee had set up, laughter and conversation mixing with the melody, punctuated by the clatter of silverware on plates and serving spoons against glass bowls. The smell of fresh baked Crater-Apple turnovers from Molly’s mingled with the honey loaf Runa had baked and the candy-sweet smell of the pollen, just barely able to hide the hint of petrichor, the rain promising to hold off until the Harvest had been properly celebrated. In so many ways, it was like all of the previous Harvest Nights she could remember having at the farm; family and friends, food, warm weather and fuzzy, dizzy feelings of relief and pride and happiness.

Aside from the obvious reasons, the night had started on a high note when Siggi had accepted her proposal of taking over the farm when she was ready to step down. It was still eight to ten years in the future, but simply knowing that he was on board, that her farm, her family’s legacy was going to be in good, caring, capable hands had removed a weight from her shoulders and her heart. The lightness left behind was only amplified by the surprise and excitement written not only over Siggi’s face but Runa’s as well, the young couple practically floating with all of the love and possibility that existed between them. It added even more to the night of celebration, but despite the fact that she was glad he had accepted, the offer had been part of Clara’s plan even before Kevva had granted her the things she only dared to dream about.

The night felt like a dream not because of the Harvest Dinner or because the future of the farm was secure, but because when she turned to her right, Ezra was there.

For the thousandth time since the man had come back to her, she felt her heart skip and leap. For the millionth time since hearing the message from Cee, she thanked Kevva and Fate and every blade of grass and grain of sand and clump of soil that he had to tread for leading him home. For a countless, innumerable time, she felt a new space open wider in her chest for the young girl who found him at his worst and reminded him of who he was at his best.

My Ezra.

It felt like a dream, because for the first time in five years, Clara had a family that was unquestionably hers.

He turned then, a grin stuck on his face as his eyes found hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and kissing him, kissing the lips she’d missed as they twitched into an even wider grin beneath her own. I missed you so much, Ezra. Reaching under the table to where it rested in his lap, she took his hand and squeezed. Inside of the short seconds of their kiss, the tiny slice of time that her fingers threaded through his, images of that morning flashed behind her closed eyelids, and she gasped against his mouth as she heard the thick need in his voice as his words played back in her memory.

“It’s later, Huckleberry.”

He was still a ways out from engaging in anything truly strenuous, his breathing and muscle strength still not at full capacity even if he had finally beaten the lethal infection. But that hadn’t stopped him from doing all that he was able to do to show her that the fire between them had never gone out.

“Even with two hands,” he whispered into her ear as she leaned gingerly back into him, back to his chest where he had pulled her into his lap, “I was never able to hold as much of you as I wanted .” He trailed his tongue up one side of her throat as he let his palm travel slowly down her naked body, a thin moan practically disintegrating as it left her lips at the sensation. You can have as much of me as you want, Ezra, as much of me as- “Never able to feel, to touch as much of you as I need to at once.” He pressed his hand low over her abdomen, thick fingers splayed wide, the tips of them reaching down between her legs to brush the warm flesh there, and her thoughts splintered into shards at the pressure. “Now, it is an even more impossible goal. Do you know how I’m going to account for that, Clara?”

Her eyes rolled closed at the feel of her name rumbling through his lungs against her back, at the slow movement of his fingers as they traveled further down to where she wanted him most. Her hips rolled into his hand of their own volition and she was immensely glad that her body remembered how to take control because her mind was already a mess. Fuck, Ezra, I- She swore that she could feel each etched ridge of his fingerprints as they passed over her body, each looping pattern. She reached behind herself to grasp a handful of his hair and was rewarded with a husky groan and a light nip of his teeth around her earlobe, and when she spoke her voice sounded foriegn and faint. “Tell me how, Ezra.”

His hand slid further down until he could tease her with two fingers, languidly circling the slick skin surrounding her core, and when he answered, his words dripped like honey into her ear. “By taking my time with you.”

There was an eruption of light and heat that blazed through her entire being as he pushed one and then both of the fingers he had teased her with inside of her, and she had to turn her face to bury her moans into his neck so that they couldn’t be heard all the way on the surface of the toxic moon that had torn them apart for so long. She wanted to respond, to tell him that he could take as much time as he wanted, but his touch after so many nights and days without it had completely erased her ability to communicate in anything but gasps and sighs, kisses and whimpers.

That had possibly been for the best though, as she wasn’t sure what hearing her assurances would do to him in his current state. Already Clara could feel the length of him, hard and stiff where it pressed against her, and she knew that neither of them would last long enough to fully express what they wanted to. “Take-” she gasped as his digits curled and pushed deeper into her. “Take your time, Ezra… so much time now.”

After he had brought her through multiple waves of ecstasy, Clara found the strength to peel herself away from him, to spin and settle herself between his thighs, her heavy lidded eyes drunk on the taste of him before she even closed her mouth around him. She had been right- he hadn’t lasted long, but she had made sure that he savored every second that he spent trapped between her lips, her tongue trailing over the tip of him to collect every slick drop. Between the heat of his body, the feel and flavor of him, the strained quality of his voice and the shake in his fingers as he dragged them through her hair and over her spine, she was halfway gone again herself. Gonna take my time, too, Ezra.

There was all of that and so much more to look forward to now and even as she sat at the table next to him, next to Cee and surrounded by all of the people who had come into her life, there in the place that was most important to her, it still felt like a dream.

But it isn’t.

They had all lost things, had all suffered and had all known pain. They had all battled through darkness and unspeakable nightmares, had endured tests and trials that were enough to push some people past their breaking point, beyond the point where return is even possible. There were still more things, other obstacles that they had to overcome, and even without those, Clara had thought, more than once, that she herself had become a lost cause, another ghost to haunt the living like a cautionary tale about falling too far into love.

As the coarse hair over Ezra’s upper lip bushed her skin, the man dragging his kiss across her lips and finally pulling back to let her bask in the warmth of his smile, she closed her eyes and leaned the side of her nose along his.

I’m not dreaming, she finally determined. I’m living. We are living.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my series/characters, please feel free to let me know! :)

*** This is the FINAL chapter for this story. The Epilogue, titled Petrichor, will follow the events of this series- But if there are any questions that you have regarding these characters, any scenes that you would like to see or things that you are interested in getting from a different POV, please consider my ask box OPEN! ***

Tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly @fific7 @valkblue @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @disgruntledspacedad @novemberrain221@thisshipwillsail316

#ezra (prospect)#ezra (prospect) fanfic #ezra (prospect) x oc #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #prospect fanfiction #cee (prospect)#ezra x oc: clara #oc: clara #point of no return #PoNR #thulian #aurelac #prospect (film)#ezra prospect #cee prospect #final chapter #series complete #excuse me while i scream into a pillow at the fact that i finally finished this story

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

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Point of No Return - Part Twelve

A/N: EVERYONE PRETEND IT ISN’T AFTER MIDNIGHT AND THAT I AM NOT INCAPABLE OF POSTING THINGS AT A NORMAL HOUR OR ON TIME... haha...ha. Anyway... this one took a lot out of me and I there is only one more chapter left and i am DRAINED... you’ll understand by the end.

Warning: discussion of illness, injury

Summary: Ezra, Cee and Clara reflect on things that have changed and try to pinpoint the exact moment that those changes occurred. Some are easier to see than others but what matters most is how to move forwards once the switch happens...for as long as possible.

Word Count: 5.7k

All change occurs in a single instant.

No matter how long the buildup, no matter how tightly coiled the tension becomes or how ragged and thin things wear, there is always a solitary moment that can be pinpointed as the absolute time of the shift; the second that something becomes something else. Time is only running out while sand still slips through the pinched passageway of an hourglass. It isn’t over until the final grain leaves the upper chamber of the instrument and lands on top of the heap in the lower one.

A thread pulls until it snaps. Friction rubs until a spark ignites, a bullet flies until it sinks into its target, a body of water will chill and chill until it crystalizes.

Sometimes those moments are predictable, a series of signals and alerts telegraphing the impending transition with enough time to react before it happens. Sometimes they strike with the frenetic speed of an electric pulse like lightning. No warning, no time to find shelter- a shock in every sense of the word.

Then there was change that crept in immeasurable, uneven increments. Not all at once, not reliably expected, but quiet and crouching, like a predator stalking its prey before the pounce.

Like falling in love. Like finding a home. Like a fever climbing one degree at a time.

— — — — — —

For three days, things were close to perfect.

Clara and Cee had come back inside from their tour of the farm, the sound of their combined laughter filling the kitchen and floating up the stairs to warm Ezra’s soul. It soothed him in a way he hadn’t thought possible since the last time he left Kamrea, to have the people that mattered most to him under the same roof, to know that they were safe, happy even. The very idea that he was getting another chance at this- a life, a family, all the things he thought he’d lost for good- was enough to mute the angry aches that had started clamouring for his attention when he woke up that morning, enough to push the pain and fatigue to the back of his consciousness.

For those three days, Ezra had everything.

After inadvertently falling asleep on the porch, waking up crunched and crumpled but together, he and Clara had ended their continued separation, choosing to sleep side by side instead. Though his bandages and injuries still prevented him from holding her as close and as tight as he craved her, Ezra wouldn’t complain. It meant pressing his lips to hers before hearing the tired, content little hum she’d make as she settled into the pillows. It meant the dip of the mattress as she rolled onto her side, the sight of her face, eyelids weighted with sleep as she tried to keep them open, the grasp of her fingers as they reached across the sheet to twine with his. It meant words mumbled into the darkness and thumbs swept over knuckles until all movement ceased and their breathing evened out as they slept.

It meant three mornings of waking up steeped in her, in them, in the moments that had come to him in his most desperate and dire times on the Green when the thought of having them again seemed like a far-fetched fantasy. Her lips brushing over his cheek to whisper his name like a rope thrown down to pull him from sleep, the full length mirror catching the pre dawn light coming in through the window to pour over her skin, the soft ends of her hair like a feather tickling his shoulder as she leaned away.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” she’d say, combing her fingers through the shock of platinum in his dark, overgrown curls, a warm smile in her eyes as they lingered places on his face- the fan of creases at the outer corners of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, half-hidden by the patchy beard and mustache he was growing, the faint curved scar on his cheek where she’d first put him back together- before reluctantly leaving him to head down to the fields and her work.

Ezra would watch her go, a sluggish but enamored smile tugging his mouth to one side. The residual comfort of several hours spent with his heart’s match beating right there next to him was enough to shove any body aches back into his bones, enough to erase the heaviness in his lungs and the sting between his ribs, and he would give back in to sleep until the Harvest Star’s vibrant color and light poked at his eyelids to pull him awake once more.

For those three days, years melted like snow in summer.

In that secondary slumber he would slip into the past, reliving the memories that her presence revived, basking in the fullness of them that he wasn’t afforded so far from the farm. The big things were all always there, etched into the walls of his mind- wrapping her in his arms as he returned from a stand away, playfully tackling her into the grass between the Thulian rows, planting a kiss to her cheek as she carried baskets and trays out for the harvest feast. They were all obvious things, bookmarked and dogeared as parts of their life he’d always remember, even as they happened in real time. It was the smaller things that came to him in those morning hours, the moments of change that he didn’t realize at the time of their occurrence, the kind that could only be appreciated with a backwards glance- the moment Clara became more to him than he ever imagined a person might.

It was the last night of the second week of the Thulian harvest, and Ezra couldn’t sleep. The night air drifting into the open window of the dormitory rooms above the barn was warm but not unpleasantly so, and tinged with the sweet scent of the pink pollen. Aldo, Kinny and the others had all found rest as quickly as their heads had found their pillows, the thin walls that separated the rooms doing little to drown out their snores. The snared, saw-tooth sound of their breathing joined the songs of crickets and the whistle of the breeze through the harvested stalks in the field. It wasn’t the heat of the harvest season or the nighttime noises that kept him from drifting off, though.

Turning onto his back, Ezra blinked at the ceiling. He bent his right arm, that hand diving under his pillow, and rested his left across his stomach. Right knee pointed up towards the wooden beams that held the roof over his head and swaying slowly from side to side, he tapped his pointer finger atop his abdomen and let out a breath. The sigh turned into a smile that prompted a small laugh which he couldn’t quite reason out, and though he knew that if he didn’t get some sleep he would be sorry for it the next day, he couldn’t be bothered to care much.

It had been ages since he felt as at peace as he had since landing on Kamrea. At first he attributed it to the excitement of the promotion with BGCM Co. that had dictated his stay on the agricultural planet in the first place, a simple case of enjoying his own accomplishments and acknowledging what he’d earned. But the more time he spent on the farm the less he found himself thinking about the Green. Instead of the itch that usually preceded his trips to the treasure filled forest moon, instead of that urge to unearth the amber bulbs of aurelac, instead of trying to guess how many points his next pull would bring him, Ezra found himself growing more and more fond of the place he thought would merely be a way station on his journey to riches.

The way that Clara’s eyes lit up over the top of the bandana covering her mouth and nose as she smiled at him in the field that day didn’t hurt, either.

I could establish a life here, easily. He lifted his hips to resettle in a more comfortable position, turning slightly so that he could look out the window and bringing his left hand to join his right under his head. Find a place in town, maybe rent a room somewhere between cycles or-

A loud bang from outside the barn broke through his musings and sent him bolting upright, setting him on high alert. What was- Feet straight to the floor, Ezra was out of bed and heading towards the small circular window in nothing flat. On the Green, sudden noises generally meant danger was close, and despite how comfortable he found himself here, there was nothing that would undo the conditioning that had been drilled into him during every training session, every prospecting mission and every dig team he had been a part of- gunshots anywhere were tricky business, but gunshots on the Green almost certainly meant death.

Not on the Green now though, I’m… He blinked to remind himself of his surroundings, holding his breath to listen for any other clues, any indications of danger. When none came, the rest of the farmhands still sleeping heavily, he finally relaxed, surveying the darkened fields that surrounded the barn, and the house just beyond them. There were a number of tall crater-oaks standing like sentinels around both structures, their limbs strong but still swaying with the summer breeze. Must’ve been a tree branch in the wind or-

Before he finished that thought, a single bulb clicked to life on the front porch of the house, his eyes snapping there as Clara came into view. The sound he’d heard made sense then as she stepped away from the screen door. The adrenaline flipped into amusement as he recalled the way the kitchen door had swung and banged shut when she came outside to meet him the day he’d been hired. Huh.

“You can’t sleep either, Huckleberry?” He spoke quietly into the darkness, watching as she descended the small staircase, striding towards the fields.

Curiosity peaked beyond good sense, Ezra made a decision. He reached for the dark olive tee he’d thrown off before climbing into bed in just the pair of grey shorts he wore, and pulled it back on. No need for us both to be awake at this hour and be… alone. Stuffing his feet into his boots, he didn’t bother with the laces, only tucking them loosely under the leather tongue so he wouldn’t trip over them climbing down from the loft.

He’d be lying to himself, a practice that Ezra did not adhere to, if he said that he wasn’t attracted to Clara. She was a beautiful woman, sharp eyes and a smile that could rival the dawn, there was no questioning that. But Ezra had met dozens of beautiful women in his travels, and none of them had pulled him from his room this late at night simply for a chance at conversation. He had only gotten to know her as well as two weeks worth of working the harvest had allowed, but now, as the clock ticked towards his impending departure, Ezra was determined not to settle only for what he’d been given.

By the time he had pushed the door wide enough to step out into the night, Clara had crossed through the fields, coming into the clearing in front of the barn, and his unexpected presence caused her to jump slightly, sucking in a gasp. “Oh! It- Ezra?”

Holding his palms out towards her as he took another step, he nodded. “Apologies, Clara, it was not my intention to frighten you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, the silver light of the night sky shining on her hair and highlighting the creases in her brow. “I’m… you didn’t I-” she sighed. “What are you doing out here?”

Licking his lips to wet them and tasting the sweet Thulian that hung in the air, he let out a small chuckle. “I could venture to ask you the same thing.” She scoffed, but he could see the smile she was failing to hide, her eyes softening with each blink of her lashes. Same thing you’re doing, I imagine. “I heard the door,” he explained, gesturing with one hand towards the house. “Came out to see what-”

“You heard that all the way from here?” She had glanced over her shoulder, and when she spun back there was something in the way that she was looking at him that he couldn’t quite place.

“I did,” he nodded, walking a few paces closer to where she stood. “You learn to develop a keen ear when you’re forced to experience life through the globe of a helmet,” he told her, which was the truth. Though the helmets that he and his team wore while working on the Green were all fitted with radio systems, ensuring that they could communicate as long as they clicked on to the right channel, the rest of the time it was sealed silence inside the enclosed dome around his head. “If you don’t, you tend to miss things.” And I don’t like missing things.

“Oh yeah?” Tilting her head, Clara let her arms drop back to her sides and shrunk the distance between the two of them by three more steps. Now that she was closer, he could see that the top of her shoulder, exposed in the tank top that she wore, was covered in freckles to match the ones sprinkled over her cheeks. “Like what? What kinds of things?”

Like the gurgling of the rhizomatic sacks hidden underground, the trickling of a stream that could be the only usable water around for cycles, the sound of snapping twigs to signal someone’s approach.

“Screen doors, for one,” he joked, earning a laugh from her as she looked down at her feet, one hand coming up to tuck a loose piece of hair back. Ezra’s eyes followed the movement of her fingers, the way that they traced the curve of her ear, his own fingertips twitching as he did, and the same feeling that seemed to be keeping him from sleep up in his bed coursed through him again, only stronger this time. This is right, being here is-

“Well, since you’re awake,” she looked back up and he snapped his eyes to hers. “Do you want to take a walk with me, Ezra?” Once the question was out, she’d pressed her lips together

Absolutely. “I would like nothing more,” he answered with a grin, stooping down to tie his laces properly.

What happened next fell into the category that Ezra could easily recall; it had also been the night that they shared their first kiss, the two of them strolling through the rows of pink grass as Ezra described a typical day on the Green. When they reached the center of the field, Clara pointed up at the sky to indicate a group of stars that made up the constellation Kevva. She told him the corresponding stories and myths she had grown up hearing about the starfaring deity that Kamrean culture was based on, and by the time she finished, bringing her eyes back down to meet his, it was impossible for either of them to stop the meeting of their lips.

It was the string of moments leading up to that kiss though, that fell into the other grouping of memories, the ones that didn’t feel like change as they happened, their effects felt in ripples nonetheless. It was the sum of the calm he felt, the bang of the door, her invitation to join him and the way that his thick fingers notched perfectly with her thin ones that had all added up to the exact amount of weight needed to tip the scales irreversibly. Without every one of those variables, the change wouldn’t have occurred.

He would have missed it.

He didn’t though, and because he hadn’t, those small significant seconds had somehow led him home. Ezra had spent five years with his focus zeroed in on what he had lost, on the things he couldn’t get back. For the three days following the night that Clara had asked him to kiss her though, he reveled in those seconds and the others like them that had stacked up to what he had now.

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

It had been three days since Cee moved her things from the den downstairs up into the spare bedroom on the second floor.

Her room.

Clara had insisted that it was hers now as she helped the girl fold and put away the two bags worth of hand me downs that Runa brought over. She had even told Cee that once the harvest was over and things settled down on the farm, she would help her paint the walls so that the space felt even more her own. The first night she stayed in her new bedroom, Cee slipped the photo of her mother out from its place against the binding of her book, tucking it instead into the wood frame surrounding the mirror above the small dresser.

In those three days, though it still seemed more like the plot of one of her stories than reality, Cee felt herself becoming more comfortable with the thought that this was where she was meant to be, that this was her home and that Ezra and Clara were her family. She didn’t view them as parents, and if she had to give a name to the relationship she wasn’t sure that she could. All she knew was that they both had made room for her in their lives when neither of them had to, and that they took up space in her heart as well.

For three days, Cee felt herself falling into a routine. Easily.

She found herself looking forward to spending her mornings with Ezra, bringing him a turnover or one of Clara’s freshly baked muffins, she and Abe hopping up into the window seat as he ate. He was never short on conversation topics, engaging her with questions on things ranging from her writing style to her thoughts on the Thulian harvest, even asking her if she’d given any thought to what she might want to study in school.

“Girl like you, smart as a whip and twice as quick?” He gave a tired chuckle with a small shake of his head. “You’ll be able to do anything you fix your mind on, little bird, of that I have no doubt.”

It was the first time anyone had ever seriously asked her where her interests lay, and while prior to meeting him her inability to answer would have worried her, simply having his confidence in her seemed like a safety net, allowing her to take leaps she might otherwise not attempt. “I think…” she watched her fingertips disappear into the orange cat’s fur as he lounged on her lap and she scratched between his ears. “I think I might want to learn medicine.”

It wasn’t just the sense of accomplishment she felt when she had performed the life-saving field treatment on him that was allowing them to even have this conversation that made her think that a career as a doctor or nurse might be right for her. The memory of the nurse at the MedCenter on Central that had helped put her in touch with Clara while Ezra was still dangerously touch and go had stuck with her, the way that the kind woman had tried to help heal more than the physical ailments that had brought the two of them there making her want to be able to provide that same level of care.

“Well, as a former patient of yours,” she had rolled her eyes at that but he continued, “I fully support the chasing of that dream.”

She thought of how he had treated her while they were on the Green, urging her to always consider her next move. Telling him her name, she realized now, had been her move, her play, the moment that she decided to trust him and therefore the moment that started all these rolling realizations, all these big changes thrown into action just by the smallest change. One minute the man referred to her as #3, in the next, he knew her.

They were different each morning, the things they would discuss, but after a few hours no matter what, he would need to rest. At first she was worried over the seeming increase in his fatigue levels after such a short time awake and upright, especially since the medication he was taking now was nowhere near as sedative as the patches he had worn the first few days out of the MedCenter. But he insisted that he was fine, that it was simply a side effect of climbing up and down the stairs each afternoon, of spending more time out of bed with Cee and Clara in the evenings that was making him feel a little run down.

For three days, it was easy enough to believe that's all it was.

While Ezra rested, Cee wandered the farm, bringing her notebook out to the swing near the stream or sitting along the path that led to the fields to watch the farmhands work. She had started writing some new scenes to fill in the second book in the Streamer Girl series, adding an original character that she only realized after re-reading what she had written was clearly inspired by Clara and her selflessness. She smiled to herself upon making that connection, knowing that Ezra, when he read it, would see it too.

As much as she found herself looking forward to spending a few hours each morning with Ezra, Cee enjoyed her time with Clara each afternoon just as much. She would head back to the house when she noticed Clara coming in from the fields, and after the woman cleaned up and changed, Cee would help her in the kitchen. Chopping vegetables or stirring things in pots, learning how to use the stovetop and a few other appliances, Cee and Clara used that time to get to know one another simply by working together and chatting. Favorite colors, funny stories, recurring dreams, advice on how to season certain dishes with traditional Kamrean spices- these served as the method for strengthening the growing bond between the woman and the girl who had fallen into her life, and if Ezra’s confidence in her was a safety net then Clara’s guidance and encouragement were a springboard.

The part of the day that she looked forward to the most in her new home though, was when she or Clara would help Ezra down from the bedroom, the three of them sharing a meal. It was on the second of those three days when she recognized the shift in how she thought of them: from three people living together to a family, a home, something she wanted to hold onto with both hands, as tightly as she could.

For those three days, she let herself get comfortable with the idea of comfort.

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

What did I miss?

Four days after caving and finally allowing themselves to fall back into the love that neither of them had ever left behind, Clara found herself repeating only one question.

What did I miss?

Had there been small changes that she hadn’t noticed? Signs that didn’t register or things she should have caught that slipped through the seams? Ezra’s initial discharge papers had told her that this was a possibility even after he completed the aggressive round of antibiotic medication, but his recovery had been relatively smooth, his spirits were high, and he had been showing more and more of his old self with each day that passed. Each time he laughed at something Cee had said, each time he looked at Clara with that same fire she saw in his eyes the first time they kissed, each time he smiled or stood without help or made a joking comment about Abe’s laziness the possibility of the infection in his chest returning seemed further and further away.

So what did I miss?

For three days she had slept beside him, brushed her lips to his and over his cheek, swept her fingers through his hair, reached for his hand as she felt one or both of them being pulled under into dreams. There had been no change to his breathing, no wheezing or change to the depth of his lung capacity, no cause at all for concern as she drifted off on that third night. No reason to think that she would wake to find his fever back, sweat soaking his forehead, his unruly curls, the pillowcase beneath his head.

She had opened her eyes that morning only to be chilled to her core at the sight of him looking suddenly more sick than he had directly after coming out of sedation. His eyes were pinched tightly shut, his skin pale and clammy looking, the white scar on his cheek nearly disappearing in the pallor, and for a few heart shattering seconds, his chest appeared to be completely still. Heart pounding almost painfully against her ribs, she was afraid to take a breath herself until she saw him take a shallow one.

Clara had moved fast then, sitting up and calling his name, imploring him to open his eyes and look at her. She reached for his face and drew her hand back immediately at the heat she felt, fresh panic setting in at the fire that had spread in his veins overnight. She called his name two more times, smoothing her palms over his cheeks, into his wet hair, pressing her lips to his brow as she whispered his name again through the tight fear clogging her throat.

“Ezra, please,” she begged, “please open your eyes.” Don’t leave me again, Ezra, don’t… I won’t lose you again.

He had pried them open just enough to prove that he was conscious, rasping out her name, and though it was a sign that he wasn’t too far gone to the fever, the weakness in his tone after three days of hearing him grow stronger was devastating. “Don’t… cry, Huckleberry…” he tried to assure her that he’d be alright, but it only had the opposite effect, and she immediately ran into the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom, flinging open the cabinets and pulling down the bottle of pain and fever reducer that she always kept stocked. She knew that it wasn’t prescription and that it was only a stop gap- that he would need something stronger to combat the infection that had returned or was possibly never rooted out to begin with.

With shaking hands that knocked several of the other bottles and items over, she unscrewed the cap and tipped two of the oblong red tablets into her palm and gave them to him, urging him to take a sip of water from the glass on the nightstand. He took a small swig, sputtering slightly as he coughed, but he was able to get the medication down. Good. One thing at a-

“Clara…” he had his eyes closed again as he spoke her name, and she saw a slight wince cross his features as he forced a swallow. Before she could try to stop him from straining himself though, he blinked his deep brown eyes open, the light in them glassy and hazy now. “Not your fault…”

Oh, Ezra.

Even in the darkest times right after losing Seth, before he had stepped away from the life that they had started to build together, Ezra always did his best to carry the load, take blame or guilt from her shoulders no matter what. Even when there was no one to blame but Fate, Ezra would try to make the weight of things as light for her as he could.

“I know, Ezra,” she leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose, a salty tear falling from her eye to land in his beard. “But I have to call the doctors, I have to… I have to get you help, I have to-”

“Love you… Huckleberry.” With that, he fell back into the fire of the fever before she could respond.

Clara let out a breath that was part sob, part broken whimper as she kissed him once more and tore out of the room, heart and feet and brain pounding as she flew down the stairs to the kitchen.

What did I miss? What did I miss? What did I-

Forcing her fingers to comply despite the adrenaline making them shake, she punched in the three digit code that would connect her to the MedCenter there on Kamrea. Explaining everything as best as she could, she relayed the state that she found Ezra in that morning, comparing it to how he’d been the previous three days, expressing how terrified she was and asking if there was anything else that she could do. The technician on the comm line put her on a brief hold, the sound of soothing elevator music only grating on her as she waited the long, grueling seconds before the tech was back on the line to tell her that a prescription for heavy-duty antibiotics as well as a strong fever reducer would be sent to the pharmacy in town and that she should follow the instructions from the pharmacist… and that she should hurry to get him the medications because the second wave of infection in his type of injuries typically came back mutate, fortified by the patient’s complacency.

Was that it? What she missed? Was it complacency? Blinded by the good so that the sinister could thrive in the dark?

There was no time to contemplate it, and though it was still early, the light in the barn window just flicking on as she dialed the second number, Clara punched in the code that would connect her to Runa. The younger woman picked up, voice thick with sleep, and Clara wasted no time in telling her about Ezra’s current situation. To her credit, Runa didn’t even let Clara ask her for help, offering to pick up Ezra’s prescriptions and drive them over right away since she lived in town, close to the pharmacy. Clara knew that Runa would have offered even if she lived hours away, simply because that was the kind of person that she was, and for a brief moment she paused her thoughts to spare one of thanks to Kevva or Fate or whoever was listening for placing Runa in her life.

The woman arrived in the driveway just shy of an hour later, Cee and Siggi both waiting for her in the kitchen as Clara stayed with Ezra to keep an eye on him. She handed the medication off, gripping Clara’s shoulder and giving a squeeze and a nod, then slipped back downstairs to help Sig keep Cee from giving into her panic too much. If that was even possible- the girl had gone nearly ghost white when she learned that Ezra was back to battling for his life, and Clara understood.

One minute they were a family. The next it all seemed to collapse with no indication, no visible or discernable reason for the switch, just another cruel turn of the universe that they would have to adapt to. Three days of bliss, gone, or at least potentially so.

It wasn’t until much later that evening, when the Harvest Star was already dipping back down beneath the horizon, when Runa had gone home and Sig had gone back to his quarters in the barn and Cee had fallen asleep against Clara’s shoulder in the window seat that the result of the emergency medicine made itself known. Ezra opened his eyes and when he did, they were markedly less cloudy, cutting through the dim light in the room to find Clara’s, puffy and swollen with tears. She sucked in a breath and gently eased Cee away from her body without waking her, adjusting the sleeping teen so that she leaned into the soft cushions before quietly shuffling over to the bed and climbing in beside him.

“You scared me so much, Ezra,” she spoke in a waterlogged tone, tears streaming from her eyes again as she reached for his hand. “Are you… how do you-”

“Clara,” he cleared his throat then but kept his eyes open and on her. “I need you to... understand one thing, alright?” She felt his thumb slide weakly over her knuckles and she nodded, another small whimper slipping out. “I have already come back from the brink once, my Huckleberry.” He had to pause to take a breath, again coughing to clear his throat before continuing. “A feat that I never… dreamed that I would have to…” He screwed his eyelids tight for a second then as a shock of pain flashed across his face, but he never let go of her hand and she knew better than to interrupt him. “Clara, I have come back to you, from the edge of existence and it...it nearly killed me.”

“I know,” she felt her heart twist and fold in on itself as she thought again about how close he’d come to not being here. “I know, Ezra, and I-”

“I won’t let it, Clara.” Mustering all of his strength to keep his eyes clear as he spoke, he gave a slight tug on her hand to pull her close enough to lay his lips, still warm from the declining fever, to her temple. “I won’t let anything keep me from fighting my way back to you. Never again.”

Though she may have missed the exact point in time when his temperature had peaked, when the wound between his ribs grew warm and red, when the shine in his eyes started to dim, she recognized the moment that they were in for what it was- it was Ezra staking a claim on what was his, theirs. He was promising her that there was no amount of hell too harsh for him to walk through so long as the road brought him back to her.

In that moment, their love became stronger than anything that could tear it apart, even if his full recovery was in question once more.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my series/characters, please feel free to let me know! :)

#ezra (prospect)#ezra (prospect) x oc #cee (prospect)#prospect fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #ezra prospect #cee prospect #ezra x oc: clara #oc: clara #point of no return #PoNR #aurelac #thulian #ezra prospect fanfiction #there is only one chapter left and i am feeling blue about it

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

Text

Point of No Return - Part Nine

A/N: This part is very emotional. I am very emotional about this part. Oh, holy hotdogs you guys. I’m getting close to wrapping this one up and all I can say about this part is that while there’s still a little more struggle ahead, this part is just a big sigh- of sadness, sure but also...relief. (sorry i’m posting this so late, i have no excuse for being the way that i am)

Warning: language, discussion of death, tension of all sorts

Summary: Things can only be held in for so long before they come to the surface, and once they do there’s only one way to go- forward.

Word Count: 5.5k

Cee was a fast learner, Ezra would grant her that.

Kevva waits, girl. He heard his own words in his memory as this time instead of a gun, she had him pinned down with a question. In the short time they spent together on the Green Moon he had noticed her tendency to second guess herself. Hesitation of any kind could be deadly in the world of Aurelac prospecting, he knew that better than anyone. If all he ever imparted to her was that she was capable of making decisions, that all she had to do was act once she had made them, that she should be confident in her choices, then he would feel as though her time with him had been worth something.

What she had just asked him, with no beating around the bush, no tremble in her tone, was proof that she was ready to test what he had taught her, that it was time to leap from the nest and try out her wings. “Who is Seth?”

Atta girl, little bird, shoot straight for the heart of it.

The small flicker of pride he felt gave way to a deep ache in the most hollow part of his chest at the mention of Clara’s brother. He knew that he wasn’t done discussing Seth just because he and Clara had talked the night before. He’d never be done, he realized. Still, the last time Ezra had spoken about the young man with anyone who didn’t know him had been years ago, and trying to explain who he was to someone as important as Cee had become to him in order for her to understand what his loss meant was something he had never needed to do before. All the people who mattered most to him had known Seth- Clara, Siggi and Runa, even Jace, his old team leader from his time with BGCM Co. They had all been there when Seth died, but more importantly they had all been there when he lived.

When several seconds had gone by without words to fill them, Cee drew her eyebrows together and took a breath. Biting her bottom lip as she let it back out, it was clear that she was starting to regret asking the question. He knew it was because she thought she had overstepped, slipping back into her uncertainty, and he cursed himself silently for it. “I...if you don’t want to-”

Ezra raised his hand with his palm facing the girl the same way he had in the pod. “Cee, no, don’t…” Don’t backpedal now, birds don’t fly in reverse. He sighed, eyes closing only long enough for him to swallow the heaviness lodged in his throat. Opening them again, he focused on her face and gave her a small shake of his head. “I told you to ask, and you did.” Her mouth twitched in a downwards arch, but he shook his head again before it could become a full blown frown. “Did…” shit. Suddenly the pain he’d been in since Cee shot him in the meat of his bicep seemed mild compared to the agonizing way that talking about Seth grated on his heart and his conscience. Put it away, Ezra. This is for her, not you. He blinked to clear his thoughts. “You said you met Runa? She the one who… who mentioned him?” He was fairly certain that if the girl had heard about Seth from Clara, she wouldn’t have to ask him who he was.

She nodded, nose wrinkling as she watched her fingers where they scratched Abe between his ears. “She said that you…” She sighed, the cat worming himself closer to her thigh. “She said that you and Clara lost Seth and that…” she kept her hand on the cat’s head but looked up at him, sadness in her eyes.

“He was Clara’s brother, birdie.” He saw that sadness deepen as she sucked in a shocked breath, mouth dropping open, giving her head half a shake. “And it was…” he sighed. “I was with him when he… he died. He was killed, Cee. Up on the Green, he was-”

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

Oh, shit.

“Ezra.” Cee stood up, the cat announcing his disapproval, but she didn’t hear it nor did she feel it when the animal gave her hand a nip as she pulled it away. She wasn’t sure how it would go when she asked the question. She knew it wouldn’t be easy based on what Runa had said, based on the fact that something had kept Clara and Ezra apart for longer than just the last cycle up on the Green. But I didn’t… “Ezra, I’m so sorry, I…”

Suddenly, the words he’d uttered in his fevered delusion, the ones that had led her to locating Clara in the first place, the ones that still made her shudder when she remembered them- Bury me by the fields- suddenly they made even more sense, and she didn’t need to ask to know that Seth had been laid to rest there. Oh… Ezra...Clara…

She had moved closer to the bed, unsure of why, suddenly embarrassed that she’d asked something so painful and personal of someone who was already going through so much. Shit, what do I-

“S’alright, Cee.” He nodded, trying to assure her that she hadn’t crossed a line. But why? Why is it alright? Why do you even- “There used to be a… a photo of the three of us. Of Clara and I and,” she watched the small gathering of pinched lines near the corners of his eyes as he spoke, breaking up her tangled questions. “And Seth, on the shelf out there in the hall.” Wait, used to be? He pointed his chin in the direction of the doorway.

Cee shook her head in confusion. “No it’s… it's still there, I saw it when we first came here, and I... “ she shrugged.

“She kept a picture of me and… Oh, Huckleberry…” He muttered the words under his breath, staring down at his lap. “Coulda replaced it with just her and…”

“She loves you, Ezra. You know that, right?” Oh, shit, why am I…

She had no idea why she was speaking, had no right to be saying anything at all on the subject of Ezra and Clara’s relationship or whether it was beyond repair. But it was true. She knew that Clara loved the man, because the things that she’d seen her do for him, the things that she had done for her herself, simply because she had been connected to him, they were things she’d never known anyone to do before, and that was how she knew that it was love. Love, and not obligation or guilt. Love, because she saw how there was hurt etched deep in Clara’s face, yet she selflessly did everything she could to ease Ezra’s pain, to soothe Cee’s despite being a stranger. It had to be love, because it was completely new and yet she understood what it was just by watching Clara.

“Yes,” he fixed his eyes fiercely on her, but he wasn’t angry, it was more that he wanted her to know that he was serious. “Yes,” he said again, “I know that she does. And I know that I do not deserve it, but that-”

“Why do you do that?” He wasn’t angry, but she realized then that she was. Not at him, not really, but at the situation that he was in, that they were all in now.

He blinked twice, and in other circumstances she could picture an amused quirk to his lips or a mischievous gleam in his otherwise dark brown eyes, and she knew that he’d rather be amused than whatever he was now. “Do what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed, a tell that he was just buying time by asking the question.

“Why do you act like you don’t deserve people who… who care about you? Who need you?” He asked, she reminded herself. She felt her heart pounding in her throat, each beat thrumming, too late, too late, too late to take it back.

Ezra tilted his head then, regarding her carefully, thumb tapping on the sheet where it lay across his lap. “This isn’t entirely about Clara, or Seth, is it, little bird?” Cee sniffed. Shit, I… no, it’s not. She shrugged and looked down, bottom lip folding between her teeth. “Mmm-hmm,” he hummed and she looked back up. “I didn’t think so.” She sighed and shuffled another step closer until she could lean against the foot of the bed. “So you wanna tell me what it’s really about then, or are you going to make me grasp at straws left-handed?”

I don’t want to. She sighed, furrowing her forehead and wishing that she was more stubborn that the man across from her, stubborn enough not to answer him. “I just-” she blurted, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Ezra, what’s going to happen? When you get better, where am I going to… what if Clara decides that-” What if she decides she doesn’t want me around? What if I remind her too much of Seth? What if-

“Hey, you listen to me now,” he spoke clearly, snapping her from her spiral. She looked up at him from under her creased brow, and though she was trying hard to hide it, she knew that he could see that she was scared. “We come as a pair, you and me. Now I don’t know yet if Clara is inclined to… extend the invitation given our history, and the things that we still have to…” he released a breath in a huff and she could tell that he was still in a large deal of pain from his injuries, that he would be for a long time. “But you can be sure of one thing, Cee,” he only used her name when he wanted her to listen, so she did. “And that is that I would not turn my back on you under any circumstance.”

She felt her nostrils flare as she swallowed, mouth twitching downwards. Why though? Letting out a breath, she trained her glare on his hand where it had stretched out on his lap. “You tried to get rid of me once…told me to-” she paused, swallowing and giving a minuscule shake of her head, the fine blonde ends of her ponytail swinging and tickling the back of her neck. He didn’t choose that, why are you… She was rebelling against the idea that he actually cared for her like she did for him. I don’t even understand it, I just… trust him. She couldn’t stop herself though, letting her anger and confusion and fear out for the first real time. “You we’re just going to-“ Her eyes came back up to his then, and for the first time since they’d left the damn Green she let him see a spark of fire in her eyes. “I…I needed you. And you were just going to give up. Give up on Clara, and on me, and-”

“The delusions of a man convinced that he had already stepped into his grave, Cee.” He nodded once, sincerity darkening his eyes as he focused them on her, cutting her emotional tirade short. “Nothing more than fever speak, I swear it.”

She searched his face for any sign of insincerity, and then realized she wouldn’t recognize it in him because he had never shown it to her. “Do you…” She didn’t need to ask, he’d just told her. But she realized then that she wanted to hear it. “Do you mean that, Ezra? Do you- you’d really… you’d give this up if...you want to-”

“I mean it, kid,” he gave her a smirk that she knew was in spite of everything else that he was feeling. “You and me are a team, got it? A package deal, alright? Now Clara already told me that you are more than welcome here no matter how things shake out between us-” Yes, but I- He didn’t let her protest, continuing. “I can’t promise you much, Cee, but I can promise you that if I have to leave here, and you want to leave with me, I can promise you that you’d be welcome with me, too. Understand?”

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” He found a way then to somehow tuck the seriousness of the morning away, giving her a grin that didn’t feel forced. “Now,” he stretched his neck and back. “Think I’m gonna venture into the washroom and clean myself up best I can.” He nodded to the bathroom door then looked back at her. “Then what do you say you help me down to the porch so we can talk about your exquisite writing, hmm?”

He read it? She knew she was crying but she also felt the smile pulling at her cheeks. “Yeah,” she couldn’t help the excitement in her voice, changing its tone completely. “Yeah, sounds good.”

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

By the time that Clara had finished up her half day in the fields, she was exhausted and sweaty and covered in pollen, and even though she hated leaving the rest of the farmhands out there for the remainder of the day, she knew that she would be of little to no help to them as tired as she was. Good thing I have leftovers from last night, I don’t think I have it in me to cook tonight. She let a tired laugh fall from her lips. It’s not even night, yet. The Harvest Star still had at least six hours to burn before nightfall. And then I… we have to… Ezra and I there’s more to…

Had she only just laughed? Had she just passed the day with her workers and her Thulian fields, swinging her sickle and stacking bales? How? Had she smiled at Runa and joked with Sig that day? How, when there was so much uncertainty still?

She had forgiven Ezra, but what if he hadn’t forgiven her? For not coming after him? She’d gone as far as looking for passage to the Green to physically go bring him home, but Siggi had talked her out of it, all but slapping her to make her see reason. Ezra would skin me alive if he ever found out I stood by and let you go up there, Clara, and you know it. He’d be pissed at you and he’d kill me- he’d told her, none of it untrue. But what if he didn’t forgive her for sending him away? What if he couldn’t forgive himself, what if-

The endless stream of questions was cut short as she got closer to the house and spotted two figures on the porch bench- Cee and Ezra, sitting on either end of the long seat, each with an open book on their laps. Oh, Kevva. She stopped short, her heart thumping as she heard a snippet of their conversation. They hadn’t seen her yet, and she wasn’t trying to listen, she was simply frozen by what she’d walked up on and what she’d heard and how it warmed the broken pieces of her heart.

“Are you certain you have never been to the Ephrate?” Ezra’s question was tinged with mock incredulity, and Clara could picture his eyes narrowing. She heard the flap of pages as he closed the notebook around his pointer finger to hold his place between the handwritten pages of Cee’s version of The Streamer Girl. “Now, I’m not calling you a liar, birdie, and I am more than inclined to believe you when it comes to anything else. But,” Clara stepped closer, coming around the corner of the porch as he gestured with the book. “Your description of the view from the Conservatory is making me question whether or not you have been truthful with me on this particular matter.”

Ezra’s eyes flicked quickly over to where Clara was and she knew that he knew she was there. Anything else he says, he wants me to hear. She took the first step, hand falling heavily to the railing.

Cee scoffed and rolled her eyes dismissively from over the top of her book on the opposite end of the bench. “You’re just saying that.” Clara saw the apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushed a rosy red as she took in the compliment, though. His words suddenly seeming to register on another level, she sucked in a breath and widened her eyes. “Wait,” lowering the novel, she closed it around her finger in the same way that Ezra had. “Does that mean… have you been to the Ephrate? To the Bowsum Conservatory?”

“I have,” he nodded once. We have… oh, Ezra, we have, together. It was the one trip they’d gone on in the three years they’d been together, and it had been pure bliss. “And that is why I find it hard to believe that you haven’t.” She knew he wasn’t actually doubting her. “You write about it like you live there. How do you do that?”

Clara leaned on the railing and listened as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She knew that there would be telltale tracks down her cheeks, pink streaks making it clear that she was crying, but there was nothing she could do. You’re still the man I fell in love with, Ezra. You are. You are, even if you don’t know it.

Cee inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly with a shrug. “I just… well the way that the characters act when they’re there, they seem… happy. LIke,” she glanced down at the book in her hands, a dreamy look glazing over her eyes as she smiled. “Like it’s a place where you feel safe, where you can be yourself and that…” She looked up at him and shook her head. “I don’t know. That feeling… whatever it is… I think about it when I’m writing and…” she shrugged again, picking her book back up as she finally noticed Clara’s presence, before the flush could come back to her freckled cheeks.

Clara cleared her throat and wiped at her face with the corner of the bandana around her neck. “Well this is… It’s good to see you two out here.” It really is. Oh, fuck. She saw Cee flinch at her tears and quickly shook her head. “Listen, let me just go in and wash up, then um…” she swept a piece of hair back. “Then, Cee, maybe you can help me get some things together in the kitchen? We can eat out here?”

Cee looked over at Ezra then back at Clara, popping up to follow her inside.

Like a family. Oh...fuck. She knew it was a dangerous thought, but she couldn’t stop it from happening. She didn’t know if that was even possible. But it’s too late, I already… she sighed as she headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up. “I already want it,” she muttered under her breath, closing the door.

-- -- --- -- --

It had been the longest that he’d been awake since getting back to the farm, the longest he’d gone between heavy doses of medication. It had been the heftiest amount of promising and affirming that he’d done, that he’d seen Cee and Clara do. It had been a long, long day for all of them.

But not a bad one, in spite of it all.

After dinner, Cee had collected the used plates and brought them inside to handle them, presumably in the dishwashing machine on whatever setting Clara has likely shown her how to use. She had been yawning all through the meal, and the second that the Harvest Star even started to dip back below the horizon, she was back in the doorway to let Ezra and Clara know that she was heading to sleep.

Good. Get some rest.

Clara had been silent since the girl had left them alone, but she hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything about Ezra needing to get back inside. She wants to be out here, wants to-

Suddenly, she stood from her place on the bench next to him, walking to the railing, clearly crying. What does she want? To talk? To… Before he knew what he was doing, Ezra was on his feet, too, unsteady as he was, the muscles in his legs tired and weak now. He reached for her and she turned into him and before he could stop it he was asking her the question that was swirling in his brain. “What do you want, Clara?”

“I want you to…” her eyes fell closed and she let out a breath through her nose, unable to keep it from withering into a whimper.

Another sweeping summer breeze came through to chase the last vestiges of warmth from the daylight back beneath the horizon. Ezra couldn’t keep himself from noticing the way the sudden caress of cool air had raised tiny bumps over the exposed flesh of her arms. Day came quickly during the harvest, but once the Star touched the horizon, darkness fell fast, too. Cold, huckleberry? He could feel it through her shirt where his palm rested against her side, his fingers curling to fit her curves as she shivered. His tongue slipped out from between his lips, eyes cast down and waiting for hers to open, needing her to finish her sentence before he went any further. What do you want, Clara? What should I-

When she spoke again it was breathless, thin and desperate. “I want you to kiss me, Ezra.”

The second syllable of his name was barely free of her lips before his were covering them. He swallowed the rest of the sound from her throat, a muted groan rising from his chest as he felt her reacting to him. Their mouths, their hands, their bodies remembered this, knew exactly how to fall back together, knew what each touch, each flick of their tongues would do to the other. Their skin knew the heat of each other’s breath, the weight of a sigh as it fell against flesh. Clara’s hands slid over his right shoulder, his left cheek, as though they had last done so only yesterday. Ezra’s fingers bunched in the fabric at her waist, his thumb finding its way beneath the hem of her shirt to press into her hip as he tilted his chin, changing the angle of the kiss just enough to cause her to lean into him. He knew it would happen, as certain as the gravitational force that kept their feet on the ground, like the lunar pull that the Green Moon had on the stormy gaseous tides of Bakhroma. He knew her.

Thoughts entirely halted for the few ticks of time that passed while he kissed her, they came rushing back in sharp and shining waves as he felt it ending. It was everything he had been missing, she was everything that he had been forcing himself to live without. I forced it on both of us. Forced her to starve for this too. Clara’s forehead rested against the crest of his cheekbone, her wet lashes brushing the faint silver arched scar that marked the skin between his eye and his beard. He raised his hand up higher on her waist and let it slip around to her back, palm placed between her shoulder blades and fingers spread wide, trying to hold as much of her as he possibly could. Like I should have been doing all this time. Her arms wound carefully around him, the hand she had on his right shoulder switching to come beneath it now, wrapping around his torso, the other bending to drape around his neck. He felt her lungs shuddering, his hand on her back rising with her uneven breathing, and he knew that she could feel the same ragged rise and fall of his breathing in the way that she held him. It didn’t have to hurt this much, Clara.

Ezra thought back to the last kiss he’d shared with her and the way that it had undeniably felt like a goodbye, even if it had been uncertain whether or not it was final. That one, too, had been desperate on both of their ends, both of them trying to seal promises that they knew they couldn’t back up, trying to cut deals they could never cover just to keep one another for a few seconds longer. He turned his face to let his lips press against her temple in a lazy, unformed kiss, dragging them into her hair as he inhaled her skin, her scent, letting himself get lost in the fact that regardless of what this moment was, it wasn’t a goodbye. But is it possible for us to-

“I never thought I’d…” Her voice was small and muffled as she spoke without pulling herself away from him, her words hitting his skin, dampened by her tears. The arm she had around his neck came up so that the fingers of that hand could tangle in his hair. The way that her nails scratched lightly up the nape of his neck and over the back of his head sent a bolt of lightning straight down his spine. Damn, it’s like we never… He tightened his hold on her despite the dull ache between his ribs at the movement. Like we never skipped a beat, Huckleberry. How is that possible?

Before he could answer himself, she finished what she’d started to say, silencing his thoughts. “I never thought I’d get to kiss you again, Ezra. I thought I’d…” A sigh cracked into a sob as she made a fist in his wavy curls, the choked breath shuddering through her body in a way that he could feel in his bones. “I thought I’d go my whole life without h-having you back.” She caved into the crying then, letting go in a way that seemed like she’d been holding herself back from for far too long, releasing a valve on the pain in her heart that she normally kept twisted tight. “I thought I would die without-” No. Ezra kissed her wherever his lips could land. His blood turned to ice at the thought of her gone, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows came together. No, my Clara, we’re both still here. “Without you ever coming b-back to me.”

It was an absolutely horrific thought, one that he never entertained even in the darkest of his nightmares. The very idea that he might have come back to the farm only to find that some tragic misfortune had befallen the only woman that he would ever love- that he very well could have turned up on Kamrea only to find that he’d condemned her to leave this world without even his hand to hold- it was downright blasphemy as far as his guilty heart was concerned. But it’s the truth. Oh, fuck. He felt tears of his own gathering in the corners of his eyes. Anything could have happened to her while he was out recklessly trying to win a losing battle, trying to get even with Fate, and he wouldn’t have been around to stop it or step in or be there for the aftermath. A sudden dizziness spun around his head and sped up the beat of his heart, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep them both upright for much longer. Need to… need to sit down. Need to-

He kissed her again where he still pressed his whiskered lips to her warm skin, gently pulling her trembling body backwards towards the porch bench where they’d been sitting when they first started talking. She started to pull away, concerned that she had hurt him, but he put a stop to that immediately, flexing his fingers so that they pressed into the muscle of her back, coaxing her to stay connected to him. “No, it’s alright. C’mere, Clara, I just... just need to get off my feet.” He ran the edge of his nose over the spot he’d just kissed as he sunk into the bench and eased her down with him. “Want you close.”

Those last three words came out in a weak, raspy whisper that was almost lost to the sound of the chimes, the rattle of the Thulian stalks. Almost, but not quite, and he knew that she heard it from the way she moved her other hand into his hair, clutching him as close as she could, nodding as her lips trailed up his jaw. He took as deep a breath as he dared, not wanting to risk a fit of coughs or wheezing rendering him unable to provide her with whatever comfort that he could. He waited until she settled next to him, fitting herself against the left side of his chest, slowly letting her hands fall free from his hair to rest instead on his shoulder and hip, and then he wrapped his arm behind and around her, dropped his cheek over the top of her head.

Oh… Oh, Kevva, Huckleberry- this…

Even though they were both broken in jagged ways that he never wanted for either of them, the way it felt to hold her again, to let her mold herself to his form, was overwhelming in every sense. Salty tears still rolled quietly down his cheeks as he ran his finger tips slowly up and down her side, but he didn’t try to hold them back. No point, not now.

“Ezra?” She broke through the silence that had stretched through two more wispy breezes, and he swallowed at the sound of his name so close to his ear. Inhaling through his nose, his eyes fell shut and he hummed a response. “Are you… are you home now?”

Home. Clara had been the only home he could ever truly lay claim to. Not the farm or the house or the fields, but the woman who opened her heart and let him climb inside of it. “Is that what you…” he hadn’t realized he was answering, but it was too late to pull the words back so he winced and pressed on. “Is that what you want, Clara? Do you want me to-”

“Yes.” It came out in a rush and she sucked in a breath immediately as though the single word had been in there, impeding her airway for the last five years. “Yes, Ezra, thats-” she paused to press her lips to his pulsepoint, both of them letting their held breaths go in small, squeaky whimpers and sodden sobs. “Fuck,” she licked her lips to wet them without moving away from where she was nuzzled into his neck, the tip of her tongue making collateral contact to remind him that his body remembered that, too. “Fuck, Ezra, it’s all I’ve wanted, it’s all I’ve… I know there’s more. There’s more and we have a lot to figure out and…”

She was leaving quick kisses everywhere she could in between words, but she finally pulled back to look into his eyes, the dim light of the single bulb near the door finding every fleck of gold in her hazel green eyes to make him wonder how he ever went digging for those golden amber gems when he had such gleaming treasures right fucking here. She was right. There was more. But it suddenly seemed surmountable if what she was offering was real. “Clara…” he raised his hand up to curve around her cheek, thumb sweeping beneath her eye and over the freckles that he knew were there even if he couldn’t see them in the dark. My Clara.

“I have done a great many foolish things in my life, Huckleberry” he finally said, working as hard as he could to keep his voice steady and firm. Shaking his head, he felt his heart jump up into his throat and he swallowed it down to continue what was easily the most important answer to any question he had ever been asked. “But turning my back on you a second time would be the worst of all my offenses yet.” He took a breath as she circled his wrist with her fingers, turning to press her lips to his palm. “If you will have me, Clara, then yes, I am home.”

She took a shuddering breath, eyes closing so that whatever tears were still caught between her lashes had to slip out from under them. Hiding her face in his broad palm for just half a second, she brought it to her chest and placed it over her heart.

“Welcome home, Ezra.”

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

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Point of No Return - Part Eleven

A/N: Sorry!! The holiday weekend made me late even though I did a boatload of nothing. We are coming down to the wire with this story and I know I have been saying that for like three weeks now but every word that brings me closer makes me more nervous and excited in equal measure. As of right now, there are only two parts left and they are...doozies. Anyway I should stop yammering and get to posting.

Warning: discussion of past trauma, difficult family relationships, loss, violence, murder, language

Summary: Cee asked Clara to talk, and now that its time to, she doesn’t know where to start. Luckily, Clara knows how to help. Ezra rests up after that long night cramped on the bench made him pay in aches and pains for the few hours of bliss. A glimpse at what home might mean for all of them now.

Word Count: 5.7k

If the blister is punctured it releases the carrom acid.

Cee paced the space in front of the kitchen counter while she waited for Clara to come back from the washroom, trailing her fingers along its smooth edge as she chewed absently at her bottom lip. Since leaving the Green almost two weeks before, she hadn’t given all of the details of what happened to her and Ezra to anyone, only telling the staff on board the freighter and at both Med Centers the basics: Ezra had been injured and she had tried to do what she could for him. But now that she had expressed a desire to share the whole truth with Clara, Damon’s last begrudgingly given lesson on prospecting echoed in her mind.

If it comes in contact with the gem the whole pull is compromised.

Drumming her fingers on the tiled surface that surrounded the sink, she tried to clear his permanently frustrated tone from her thoughts but she couldn’t, his words making her wonder if the same held true for conversations like the one she was about to have. If she didn’t pick the right angle to approach things from, would the whole thing collapse and corrode?

Suddenly she felt a nervous panic seize her chest as she realized that she had no idea where to begin. Not for the first time since meeting them in the pages of her favorite story, Cee found herself wishing that she could consult the characters that had stood in as her only friends. As much as she dreamed about seeing the Ephrate with her own eyes, visiting the places explored by Jhi, Alyce, Clo and Reevie, as much as she craved their confidence and freedom, it was the scenes in which the group of friends confided secrets and fears to one another that she longed for most. Her favorite thing about the way that their friendship was written, and her favorite theme to expand on in the additional pieces that she had written, was how none of them ever went through anything alone. If they were real, if they were here right now, she could ask them for advice on what to tell Clara. She could count on them to be there for her once the conversation was over, no matter how it went.

They aren’t real. Don’t be stupid.

She closed her eyes and released a controlled breath through her nose in an attempt to slow her racing heart and still her dizzy mind. Swallowing, she filled her lungs again and repeated the practice, this time bringing her shaky hands up to the sides of her head. She combed her fingernails through her pulled-back hair to tidy up any strays that may have sprung loose from her ponytail. The light scratch against her scalp was a self-soothing technique she’d developed at a young age when her father’s work hours and extracurricular activities kept him out late into the night.

A part of her wanted to believe that it was something that her mother had done to calm her as a small child. She imagined the smiling young woman from the photo cradling her close as she cried, her voice soft and warm as she eased her daughter’s worries away with her gentle touch and a sweetly hummed lullaby. But just like with her fictional friends, Cee realized that her mother was a character in her story that she would never truly know. She had died before Cee’s memory could begin to record, and as a result the girl couldn’t even recall what her mother sounded like, if she laughed freely, whether or not she sang or danced. The woman existed only in the small, creased rectangular photo that she kept tucked inside her notebook. All of her imaginary friends in one place, and none of them helpful to her now.

How do I…

She opened her eyes and let out another slow breath, hands falling down to grip the rim of the sink as she looked out the round window above it, watching the tall pink grass swaying in the lazy breeze.

How do I tell Clara that it’s my fault? The reason Ezra got so sick, the reason he almost-

The door to the washroom off the den opened then, the sound of its groaning hinges breaking her from her thoughts before they could grow big enough to change her mind and chase her back into silence. She turned, leaning against the edge of the counter as Clara walked into the room. Though it was clear that she’d rinsed her hair, water dripping from the strands to darken the collar of her slightly oversized green tee, Cee still noted streaks of rosy Thulian running throughout the messily piled bun at the back of her head. She wore cuffed denim shorts and a pair of canvas slides without socks, and though she knew that the woman was likely tired from work and exhausted from all the things that had changed recently, she seemed more relaxed than Cee had seen her since arriving at the farm.

It's because he’s getting stronger, it must be. She must’ve been so sc-

“That’s better,” she said, hands going to her own shoulders as she rolled her neck out. Clara gave Cee a small, sideways grin. “Feel like a human again.”

Cee’s lips seemed stuck together at that moment, unsure of which words they should attempt to be forming. She simply nodded, eyes darting to the cabinets as Clara headed towards the refrigerator, pulling the door open. She took a clear cylindrical carafe from the shelf on the door, the container full of the same purple tea that Cee had tried brewed hot, what looked like small cluster-shaped berries in varying shades of red bobbing in the amethyst liquid. She let the door close, bumping it with her hip to ensure that the seal pressurized, then turned back to Cee, pointing with her free hand at the upper cabinets behind where the girl stood.

“Can you pull down two of the tall glasses from that- yup, that one.” She smiled as Cee rose on her toes to locate the glasses that Clara had asked for. “Perfect, thank you.” Cee set them down and she walked over, opening the carafe as she did. She poured the iced tea into the waiting glassware, maneuvering the strainer on the pour spout so that a few of the oddly shaped fruits plopped into each one. “I think it's better cold,” she told Cee as she crossed the kitchen again to put the tea back in its place. “But that could just be because it's Harvest time and it's hot out.”

Cee wrapped her hand around the cool glass and peered down into it. Though it didn’t look, smell or taste anything like the viscous, gelatinous Juice that she and Ezra had been served at the Sater camp on the Green, it was what flashed behind her eyes momentarily.

Drink it, it's good for you, cleanses the Dust.

Ezra had tried his best then to hide from her how weak and sick he was, how dangerously close he had toed the line with death, nodding and giving her a smirking grin before downing the contents of his cup in one gulp. But now, in her memory, she heard the cracks in his tone, recalled the shake in his hand as he lowered the empty mug, realized that the amount of sweat beading on his forehead and soaking his hair was far more than what would be normal after removing his suit’s globed helmet.

He knew. Knew he was...knew how bad it was and he was just trying to…

She blinked as Clara spoke again. “Adding the berries makes it sweeter, it's refreshing on a day like this.” Without thinking, like she had in that dug out hut in the Sater camp, she took a large mouthful of the drink she’d been offered. This time, however, she didn’t have to suppress a gag or conceal a wince at the flavor. To her complete surprise, she actually felt her lips twitch at the pleasant taste of the tea. That’s...really good.

Clara took a long swig from her own glass, wiping her lips with the heel of her thumb. “Good, right?” Cee nodded, that twitch spreading a little higher despite the uneasiness still swimming in her stomach over the pending talk. As though she could read her mind, or at least her expression, Clara tapped her finger twice against the side of her glass and tilted her head. “So,” she took a breath and let it out, her shoulders rising and falling casually as she did. “You said you wanted to talk, right? About everything that happened?”

Cee felt the furrows cutting into her forehead as she nodded around another sip of the berry infused tea, using the drink as an excuse to stay quiet for as long as possible. This was your idea, why are you clamming up now? She frowned as she swallowed, feeling the palm of her empty hand dampen with nervous sweat. But when she lowered the glass, she saw that Clara’s eyes were still on her, the woman waiting patiently for her to break her silence.

When Cee left the quiet uncracked, Clara took care of it for her. “Let’s go for a walk, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” she was glad for a question that she could easily answer to get things started, and she set her glass down more forcefully than she meant to at the relief that it brought her. Oops. She swallowed hard, but the glass wasn’t damaged and Clara hadn’t seemed bothered by the clumsy handling of her breakables, so she cleared her throat and didn’t address it. “Yeah, let me just go grab my shoes and… I’ll be right back.”

Clara smiled and nodded once. “Okay, Cee. I’ll be on the porch.” She cocked her head towards the screen door, and then grabbed the handle to yank it open and she was gone, footsteps creaking on the wooden floorboards outside.

Alone in the kitchen, aside from Abe who had curled himself up on the narrow ledge under the window by the table, Cee ran her fingers through her hair once more, letting out a long, slow breath.

We come as a pair, you and me.

That was what Ezra had told her, and she had only applied it to the conversation that they had been having at the time he’d said it- regarding what would happen and where she would live if he didn’t stay on the farm.

But… I think he meant more than that.

As she walked through the short hall that connected the kitchen to the den, she passed the stairway and glanced up to where she knew he was resting. He had been awake only briefly enough to pick at the turnover that she brought him, wincing in discomfort as he adjusted his position to eat. At first it had worried her to see him seemingly in worse shape than he’d ended the day before, but he had assured her that he was just sore and tired from the long day and the hours spent cramped on the bench.

“The involuntary excitement of getting out of this bed for the first time made me push it just a tick beyond my current capabilities, Birdie,” he’d told her through slow but steady breaths. “And now” he gestured with a flippant turn of his wrist and a fatigued smile gave way to a tired laugh. “I am paying the price. But it is one that I am more than willing to cover for what I have gained.”

He’d fallen back into a heavy sleep shortly after that but not before he clarified exactly what it was that he had felt so fairly compensated for his pain with; Home.

It was possible, maybe, that he had meant more when he had told her that they were a package deal; that maybe, what he meant was that if Clara could find it in her heart to welcome him home after everything that happened between them, that the welcome would extend to her in more ways than a spare mattress and some tea. She bent down to pull her shoes- the sneakers given to her at the Med Center on Central- from under the pullout couch, and as she sat on the edge of the bed to put them on, she let herself hope, just for a second, that she was right.

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

Clara crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the porch post nearest the stairs with a sigh. To anyone watching it would look like she was appraising her fields, taking stock of which portions were completely harvested and which were still left untouched. It might look like she was observing her farm hands, ensuring that they were working safely and efficiently, or even as though she were simply enjoying the stunning scene laid out in front of her- the warm peach light of the fully risen Harvest Star passing through the cloudy clusters of Thulian pollen, the layered color effect of the taller stalks, still weighted with bright pink tufts in contrast to the muted shade of the shorter, already shorn stalks in front of them, the way that the breeze made all of the feathery stalks sway like a quartz ocean. Despite seeing the same view day in and day out for the last thirty some odd years, the pure beauty of it was never lost on her.

But none of those things crossed her mind as she waited for Cee to come outside. Instead, she shuffled through thoughts and memories that she had carefully stowed away years ago, preparing to share some of them with the girl. Clara knew that if it had taken her this long, five days there at the farm and roughly a week’s worth of cycles between docking on the freighter and getting to the Med Center on Kamrea before that, then there was likely a reason beyond shyness. Though it was true that she’d been quiet since she and Ezra arrived, Clara didn’t think shy was the right word to describe Cee. In fact, when the three of them had sat out on the porch during dinner the previous evening, the girl bubbled excitedly when the topic turned to her favorite book and the fact that Ezra had read her version of it. She had feverishly torn through the sequel and told Clara that she was already re-reading it, a bashful grin curving her worry-chewed lips as her freckled cheeks flushed the same color as the fields.

She talks up a storm when it’s something she wants to talk about. Clara smiled at that, thinking back to her own teen years and how easy it was to get her to go off on a tangent about her favorite singer, or why she wanted to travel to the Bowsum Conservatory so badly. She wants what every kid wants… she wants to feel like she matters, wants to be heard.

She let out another breath as she reached up to pull the elastic out of her still damp hair, the loose bun she’d had it in coming undone as another breeze came through. Shaking the waves out she combed it back into a tighter bun this time, using her fingernails to tuck any strays in place. She knew that while it was easy to get Cee to open up about her interests, the conversation that they were about to have would be less simple, even if it had been Cee who had prompted it. In just the time it took for her to take a quick shower and change out of her stained work clothes, Cee had gone from barrelling down the stairs to ask Clara if they could talk to withdrawing so much she barely opened her mouth to drink her tea. Clara knew that she would have to help guide the girl through it, and she knew that the best, most trustworthy way to do that was to open up herself, show the cards that she normally played close to the vest and let the girl see that it was possible to forgive and to move forward even when it feels unimaginable.

Like losing her parents, her brother, and then the man that she loved with every grain of her soul.

She knew better than many what it required to stand again after being bowled over by the things that she always thought she would never be able to recover from until she was forced to. The difference between the cut and the scar were so vast when blood still flowed from the wound that they didn’t seem related. But she was able to stand on scarred legs even after they’d been cut out from under her, and she had had to learn how to do most of it on her own. She wouldn’t let Cee suffer that alone. She had promised her on the girl’s first day at the farm that she would help her carry the weight of the things she was going through.

Whether or not Cee saw it as a promise didn’t matter, because Clara intended to keep it regardless.

The screen door opened behind her and she turned in time to see the girl gingerly close it so that it wouldn’t swing and slam against the jamb. Despite the fact that she could sense how tense and unsure Cee was, the fact that she was already adapting to things like the old hinges on the porch door and what Abe’s different howls and meows meant warmed her heart. It was proof that she was already adapting to a life that she had likely never imagined.

Cee crossed the porch to where Clara stood, her unsure steps telegraphing the awkwardness that she was struggling to hide. Instead of letting her flounder, Clara smiled. “Ready?” A bob of the blond ponytail preceded a few more shuffled footsteps. “Alright, c’mon.” With that, she headed quickly down the steps, waiting again for the girl at the bottom.

Her mouth quirked down and to the left and she took a breath before placing her hand on the bannister, taking the steps slower than Clara had, but descending all the same. “Where are we going?”

“Well,” Clara tipped her chin up at the house as Cee stepped off the last platform and onto the hard packed dirt walkway, the girl looking over her shoulder as she did. “You’ve been here almost a week and you haven’t left the porch, so I thought I’d show you around.” She swallowed, the places that she planned to show her flashing through her mind- the swing by the stream, the stone by the fields, the hilltop that overlooked Briggs’ old farm.

Ezra, the morning he snuck out of bed to hang the swing he had spent weeks building from the giant crater-oak. The way his beard tickled her cheek as he kissed her awake to drag her outside, wanting to show off his handiwork, the way he beamed with pride when the thing didn’t fall apart when they sat in it for the first time. The way it felt when he put his arm around her, thumb swiping over the cap sleeve of her shirt covering his favorite of her freckles.

Ezra, laughing with Seth at something genuinely funny that her father had said in a moment of clarity before his transfer to the memory care facility. The way that neither he nor her brother had ever let her in on the secret joke. The way that knowing that he wanted to keep that memory for himself because her family had become his made her love him even more.

Ezra, the day they said goodbye to Seth, adding his name to the memorial stone that bore the names of her parents. The way he never unwound his fingers from hers while they stood there, the way that she knew he was breaking just as badly as she was, the way that he was trying to give her what little strength he had by not separating his palm from hers.

Ezra, begrudgingly helping Briggs’ daughters and the few farmhands they were still able to pay dig out their fields after the man’s grief-fueled bender caused him to squander the last few weeks of the harvest, his fields beginning to fester as the rains came. The way that he kept Clara close to him at all times while they helped, the memory of the night he received the scar on his cheek not far enough removed for his liking. The way that Clara knew he had to fight to put aside his hatred for the man who could have killed her, but how he did it gladly knowing that their actions would help Briggs’ family.

They flashed out of order and mixed with dozens of other moments like them in the few seconds it took for Cee to fall into step with her. Ezra was everywhere all over this farm, Seth and her parents, too. And not all of the memories hurt. She needed Cee to understand that there was life after the things that tried to derail it.

The soft soles of the girl’s tennis shoes barely made a sound as she walked alongside Clara, and neither did she for a few paces as they made their way down the path towards the fields. Instead of continuing straight down the wider dirt road that split the two front fields and led to the barn, Clara turned left towards the treeline.

Cee was quick to pick up the change in direction, and as she made the turn she finally broke her silence. “I used to live here. On Kamrea, when my parents were… when my mom was alive.”

Good, let her start wherever she wants. Clara raised one eyebrow and looked over at her. “Oh yeah? I didn’t know that. Where about?”

She wrinkled her forehead and gave a slight shake of her head, squinting into space. “I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t remember anything about it. I didn’t even know that Thulian was farmed here or,” she sighed, “or anything. I just know what my-” her tongue flicked out to wet her lips as she considered what to say next. “What Damon told me. And it wasn’t much.” She added the last few words under her breath.

There were two ways to go with Cee’s answer; follow the flow of information, or provide sympathy for what she had just shared. Of course Clara’s heart went out to the girl, and she expected that the feeling would only continue to grow larger the more she shared. But she doesn’t want or need that right now, she needs to talk, get it all out. “Where was the last place that you lived, then?”

The path they were on was getting closer to the place where the soft grass met the shady trees, almost close enough to hear the stream. In a few weeks it would be full enough to hear from the porch, but for now it was still a secret to anyone who didn’t already know about it.

“The Pug.” She brought her quick, sharp eyes up to follow the trunk of one of the taller crater-oaks. “Puggart Bench,” she went on to explain, and even though Clara knew about The Pug from what Ezra had told her, she didn’t stop the girl. “Damon and I had an apartment in one of the spires for a while, but we didn’t stay long, we were always on jobs.” She drew her lips together in thought for a moment, then turned to face Clara. “I think... someone else might have rented our place when we weren’t there now that I’m…” She trailed off as they finally got close enough to hear the soft gurgle of water over rocks, blinking at the sound. “Is that...water?”

Clara felt a twinge at the easy way the girl’s attention shifted from her rootless childhood to her current surroundings. She swallowed so the girl wouldn’t notice. “Yup,” she pointed through the narrow opening in the trees that her father had created ages ago by felling two crater-oaks when he needed wood to build the porch. “Right through that gap there’s a stream. It’s not very full right now, but it will be in a few weeks.”

“Ezra told me there was a stream…” She mumbled it to herself as she shook her head. “I forgot he...Can we...are we going to-” She sucked in a breath. “I was born on Lao, but I’ve never… seen water that I can... “ They had stopped walking at the entrance to the woods, Cee’s expression turned to one of wonder. “There’s water on the Green, but I couldn’t take my suit off to feel it.”

“Yeah, of course, we can…” she nodded through the tightness that came from being able to give her something as simple as fresh water running over her fingers.

Cee walked straight to the bank without hesitation, kneeling down to dip her hand into the cool, pristine creek. Clara followed, taking a seat on the swing that the girl hadn’t acknowledged yet. A small laugh slipped out as she wiggled her fingertips. “It’s...cold.” She bunched her fist up under the surface then sprang her fingers apart to make a small splash, humming in amusement. “Feels good.”

“When it gets deeper you can swim in it. Its shallow enough to stand, but… you’ll see. Give it a few weeks.” Clara crossed one leg over the other and waited for her words to sink in. She wasn’t sure how much Ezra had told her about what they two of them had discussed the night before; that he would be staying. And that means you are, too…

Cee stood slowly then, wiping her wet hand on her pants as she turned. Her eyes were wide and round when they fell on Clara. “W-well, I...if-”

“Cee, Ezra is staying here. We-” The girl blinked, those soft doe eyes getting impossibly bigger, her mouth falling open as her breathing increased. Oh...what did… It wasn’t the reaction she was expecting, but she tried not to let it show, patting the slats of the swing to indicate that the girl could come take a seat. She watched as Cee took her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, then released it as she nervously sat. “You know, he made this swing. Built it himself as a birthday gift for me one year.” She looked up at the branch that held them, one cheek climbing her face as she smirked. “Took him… so long to build it because he’d never built anything before but he…” she sighed and looked back down at the girl. “This is his home, Cee. It always has been, and it always will be. And it… if you want it to be, it can be yours, too. It… I would like that, very much, and I know Ezra would, too.”

“Clara, I’m scared.” It came out rushed but whispered, but before Clara could ask her what she was scared of, she went on. “I’m… you still don’t know what I… what I did, and I’m scared that when I tell you, you won’t-”

“No.” She was immediately reminded of what Ezra had said to her the first time he and Seth came back from the Green, and the rage that swept through her made her voice shake slightly. That Kevva damned Moon tries to crush everyone and I… She let out a slow breath to calm down as the girl closed her gaping mouth. “Cee, you can tell me what happened if you want, and you said you wanted to talk, so I think that you do want to tell me.” The girl sniffed and gave a small nod, staring at her shoes. “But I need you to know that I don’t blame you… or Ezra… for anything that you had to do up there. Okay? Nothing that-”

“I shot him.” The words came out so small that they almost drowned beneath the gentle sound of the stream, but Clara heard them as clear as if they’d been in her own head. It caused her to take a breath and hold it, her heart jolting as the girl quietly began speaking again. “It’s my fault that he’s so sick. That he lost his arm, that he almost d-” she winced, squeezing her eyes closed as she drew her knees up, feet resting on the edge of the swing. When they opened again, tears swam in the corners and she didn’t try to stop them from falling. “He almost died, and it’s my fault. He almost… he would have never seen you again, and it would be my-.” she buried her face in her knees and sobbed.

Clara wasn’t sure when the tears had started forming in her own eyes, or when she had placed her palm between Cee’s shoulders, the blades of them small and fragile beneath her fingers. “You brought him back to me, Cee.” It was news to her that the man’s injuries had come at the hands of the girl who had, from what she understood from what Ezra had told her, had saved the man’s life. But it’s...its what that fucking moon does to people. It forces them to… “I’m not just talking about physically getting him to Kamrea, either, she clarified, fingers still moving soothingly over Cee’s back. “I mean… you found that part of him that was still in there, all this time, and somehow, you brought that back to life. He was…” Cee finally picked her head up to look at the woman, both of them tear streaked. “Oh, Cee, he was so lost the last time I saw him. When he… the last time that he left.”

Something seemed to dawn on her then, and she gasped in the midst of her tears. “He went for revenge… didn’t he? He said… he went after them, didn’t he? The people who-” Cee swallowed, sitting up. Clara let her hand fall away as the girl turned on the seat to face her. “After your brother was… k- after Seth died?” She flinched at her own words and started rapidly trying to backtrack. “Ezra, he told me that he was with him when he… when it happened, and I saw the picture of the three of you and I-”

Clara closed her eyes. “Yes,” she answered. A sharp stabbing pain twisted in the old wounds in her heart, but she knew that this conversation would eventually take this turn. It has to, it’s part of the point. She needs to see that forgiveness is…

Without thinking, the same way that she had placed her hand on her small shoulders, Clara lifted her fingers to rake back a stray hair out of Cee’s face, using her nails to gently secure it and the girl released a breath that twisted the pain in the opposite direction- it was the sound made when someone was being truly comforted for the first time, and before she could blink, she felt thin arms wrapping around her, the girl leaning into her as she cried into her already wet hair.

Oh, Cee…

She returned the hug, knowing instinctively that it was what she needed, the two of them sitting there in silence for several beats, Clara comforting yet another lost soul returned from the toxic forest of Bahkroma Green, being comforted by that same newfound soul. They stayed on the swing, Cee resting her head against the woman’s shoulder as her tears slowed and her breathing became less unsteady, until she felt like she could hold herself up again. When her eyes had dried, Clara asked Cee if she wanted to keep going, that there was more she wanted to show her, that they could keep talking but if she’d had enough for now that was okay, too.

She nodded, standing and rolling her shoulders back. “No, let’s… can we keep going?”

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

By the time Ezra woke up again the light in the room was already starting to change.

Damn, slept the whole- he sucked in a breath that he wasn’t expecting to hurt.

He leit it out slowly as he opened his eyes, the ache in his chest not as sharp as it was after sleeping on the hard porch bench the night before but still present. Slowly, he adjusted himself to a seated position. He inhaled another cautious breath, a short cough coming out with it to make his ribs and lungs throb dully, the combination of the acute and bone-deep sensations making him slightly dizzy, but he blinked a few more times and it faded.

Shit, that was-

Again his thoughts were interrupted, though this time by something that made him forget about his discomfort entirely. The window had been cracked open just enough to let some fresh air in, and on it came the sound of Clara’s clear laughter, and on its heels, a lilting secondary laugh that he knew belonged to Cee even though he’d never heard it before. The way that they fell into a natural harmony made him swing his legs over the side of the bed, rising to shuffle slowly to the window. Leaning carefully with one knee up on the cushioned seat and his hand gripping the window frame, he looked outside and what he saw made his heart leap.

The two of them were walking together up the dirt path and back towards the house, and he was unprepared for how happy it made him. Oh, Huckleberry, you are an amazing woman. Clara lifted her eyes up to the window, smiling in surprise at finding him looking out. The way that her face lit up made the whole sky seem brighter even though the Harvest Star was on its way down for the night. The smile that climbed his cheeks as Clara and Cee climbed the stairs was perhaps one of the most genuine that he had ever worn.

So genuine, that it completely masked the pain he’d woken up in, making it seem to vanish with the sound of the swinging screen door.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my series/characters, please feel free to let me know! :)

#ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect #ezra (prospect) x oc #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #cee (prospect)#cee prospect #oc: clara #prospect (film)#ezra prospect fanfiction #once again clara is an angel #once again cee is a nervous mess #and once again ezra is ... in pain

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