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[partybusuptown]

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[hermannsthumb]

9 / 13 / 27 for the prompt fills? 😮

9. Stargazing + 13. Family Reunion + 27. Power Outage

from summer prompts meme here

looking back at some old unfilled askbox prompts and went and took some generous liberties with this one......

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

It’s been kind of weird not having shit to do. That’s not technically true, because Newt and Hermann have plenty of shit they could do, but none of it is particularly time-sensitive or, like, interesting—a lot of paperwork, sleepovers at Shatterdome medical to get prodded and poked at, and mandatory meetings with PPDC higher-ups. No glamorous magazine spreads just yet. Newt’s holding out hope for those, though. Specifically they haven’t had shit to do in the lab, other than packing up their (newly defunct?) research in moving boxes, final destination still currently TBD. No magazine spreads, but plenty of universities begging and outright bribing them to set up shop on their campuses. Newt’s still not totally sold on returning to academia yet, but he's been enjoying feeling like homecoming king.

Basically they can afford to take a few days off. To Newt’s surprise it was Hermann who brought up the topic of vacation in the first place (would you be inclined to join me in Germany for a week?), and though it’s unfortunately not the luxury spa resort he had in mind (and that he would’ve found an excuse to charge all the expenses of to his PPDC-issued travel card), Newt’s game. He's game for anything that gets Hermann to unwind a little. He was less game when Hermann revealed the reason—a reunion dinner with his family (three terrifying siblings and two terrifying parents) at Hermann’s childhood home in the countryside, something which Newt can’t imagine going well for anyone involved.

Still, it’ll be fun to see where Hermann grew up, and they’ll have a whole bonus six days over there to do anything else they want. Hermann also seemed mildly terrified at the thought of going alone, and Newt definitely owes him one after the whole drifting with a kaiju thing. Possibly those aren’t comparable sacrifices. Newt’s basically a saint here.

They rent a car to drive from their hotel to Hermann’s house themselves instead of calling a cab like Hermann wants to do. A rental car gives them more freedom, Newt argues, and Hermann reluctantly accepts, too grumpy from the flight over to put up an argument of his own in return—they can take a longer route and see more of the country, make a fun little k-science road trip out of it.

The idea seemed more fun at the time. It's summer! People take road trips in the summer! Newt and Hermann have spent five long years crammed into a damp, chilly basement together, and they earned some open roads and open skies. Take in the natural beauty of the world, still standing as it was against all odds. Or something.

"Are we here already?"

"No," Hermann says. "I don't know why we're—did you fall asleep? You're meant to be navigating."

"Jet lag, man," Newt says, and yawns into his elbow. "I'm stupid sleepy. You sure we're not here?"

"Does it look if we—? Oh, I don't believe it," Hermann snarls as the car wheezes to a halt. "Now?"

Newt started getting the impression the second they left their hotel that Hermann doesn’t realllly want to go. And why would he? By all accounts his family dynamic kind of sucks and they most likely only invited Hermann as some weird hand-wavey apology for all those years of—uh, well, kind of sucking. We’re really sorry about the whole wall thing, Hermann, but now that you’re all famous and have an incredibly hot boyfriend, won’t you please show your face around us again?

Newt’s flattering himself here. He wasn’t actually invited. He has a distinct feeling he was the opposite of invited. When he asked Hermann about it (you sure it’s cool if I come?) Hermann just scowled and said something to the effect of they should expect that I would bring you, it’s only natural given that we are— and then pretended to cough a bunch. Newt politely handed him a glass of water and didn’t press him further. They are something! They’re k-science, Newt and Hermann. Good enough for Newt.

He loves a party. He’s not sure he’ll love a Gottlieb party, but he’ll make it work, even if Hermann wouldn’t let him bring his guitar or buy fun booze or dress in anything but his most formal pair of slacks. My family isn’t that lively, Hermann said. He bought Newt three depressingly boring non-skinny ties to choose from and spent the week leading up to their flight subtly hinting to Newt that he really ought to get a haircut. Hermann knows a fellow at the Shatterdome, even, who will do it for pennies. Make him look nice and presentable. If that’s who does your hair, man, I really doubt that, Newt said, and then Hermann threw several pieces of chalk at him and definitely-not-deliberately knocked Newt’s iced coffee over onto his pants on his way out of the lab.

It gets Newt so hot and bothered when Hermann resorts to petty stuff like that. He got the haircut.

“You were supposed to fill the tank!” Hermann shouts, smacking his hand against the dashboard like it’s going to help. His palm is conveniently covering the fuel gauge, and Newt nudges it away until they can both plainly see they have almost three-fourths of a tank to go.

“I did, you dick,” he says, and Hermann shuts his mouth real fast. “The engine’s probably busted or the battery’s dead or something. Dude, they totally gave us a crap car just because we wouldn’t take the cybertruck.”

“Rubbish,” Hermann says under his breath. He turns the key in the ignition twice, and the engine makes a few pathetic stuttering noises. The car doesn’t budge.

Newt shakes his head. “No good. Cybertruck revenge. Switch it off, I'm gonna take a look under the hood.”

“Oh, and I suppose one of your doctorates is in mechanics, then?”

Newt ignores him and gets out of the car. Mildly annoyed as he is at Hermann, he’s still careful to roll up the sleeves of the button-down Hermann picked out for him and twist his body as far away as possible from the car as he pops the hood and squints inside. Hermann will be very sad if he gets his clothes dirty.

Truthfully, not that he's going to admit it to Hermann, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His dad tried to teach him once years back, but Newt lost interest once they took the engine apart and he realized it was much more fun to try to rebuild it into something else entirely, like a robot or something. Not that he succeeded there either.

“It’s definitely not working,” he decides.

The other car door slams, and he hears Hermann shuffle off to the side with a loud, disgruntled sigh. Newt shuts the hood and taps at his cell phone fruitlessly. No reception out here on his shitty roaming data, and even if he did have any he’s not sure where they’d find, like, an actually certified mechanic willing to drive all the way out to the middle of nowhere to tow them to Hermann’s parents’ in time for dinner. Maybe in time for lunch tomorrow, but that’s still kinda pushing it. He doesn’t bother asking to try Hermann’s—he left it back at the hotel, allegedly by accident, but Newt has a lurking suspicion that it was subconsciously in the hopes of something like this happening. Oops, sorry, no way to get in touch with anyone, looks like we won’t be able to make it tonight after all.

If they pick a direction and start walking now they might be able to get some cell service or at least find a hotel nearish-by with a phone they could borrow. Maybe some quaint and eye-wateringly expensive Airbnbs. It seems like the kind of place they would have those. On the other hand, wandering around in the German wilderness (relative wilderness, anyway) at dusk is maybe a bad idea. Cliché horror movie shit.

He catches a whiff of stale smoke and whirls around to stare incredulously at Hermann. “Where the hell were you hiding those?” he says.

Hermann, scowling around a cigarette, shrugs one shoulder. “Sock,” he says. “Only three. You know how they are, my family—I felt I may need to invent an excuse to duck outside. Oh, fine.”

He takes one final drag of the cigarette before flicking it to the ground and grinding at it with the end of his cane until it’s nothing but a flattened smear of paper and tobacco ash in the dirt. He thumps his cane at it twice. Then he smacks his cane against the front tire of the car with a metallic thud. Newt perks up in alarm. “Cool it, we didn’t get the insurance.”

“Bloody piece of trash,” Hermann says.

He slumps against the side of the car, smearing grime and probably some smashed bugs all over his clean shirt, and rubs a hand down his face. Newt hesitates a few seconds to make sure he’s not about to start swinging again before sidling up next to him cautiously. He wonders if he should try to give Hermann a hug or an affectionate pat on the shoulder. It’s not something they usually do, affection in general, but Hermann might appreciate the gesture. “It’s just dinner,” Newt finally says. “I didn’t even think you wanted to go.”

“I don’t,” Hermann says.

“Okay, then this is a good thing, right?" Newt says. "We didn’t even have to make up an excuse. This is legit, man, and I mean, it’s not like I was dying to spend some quality time with the in-laws.” Can Newt say that? In-laws? He and Hermann aren’t married or anything, but he’s not sure what else he’d call Hermann’s family that doesn’t sound like he’s deliberately dancing around saying in-laws. “Basically, we’re in the clear.”

Hermann says nothing.

“Wait.” Newt frowns. “Did you think I wanted to go?” The idea hasn’t occurred to him until now (because, like, why would it?), but with Hermann being all weird like this…

“Of course not,” Hermann says. There’s an unspoken but there. Hermann hesitates. Newt waits. The sun is almost finished setting, and under different circumstances he thinks it would actually be a pretty nice night out, like the ones they spent back on the Shatterdome roof bitching at each other and sharing shitty takeout dinner and squinting up at the sky to try to see stars through the light pollution of the city. He wonders if pointing that out to Hermann would piss him off more.

Hermann finally sighs. “I suppose I wanted to introduce you to everyone, is all.”

Newt knows Hermann’s family. Newt actually knows Hermann’s family famously, or maybe he means infamously, and maybe he also means that they know him, thanks to the unfortunate combination of his less-than-stellar professional reputation, his widely-ridiculed televised appearances shortly after the first kaiju made landfall where he pushed the whole extraterrestrial origin angle, and the extremely dramatic, uh, everything he’s had going on with Hermann for well over a decade now. Also, Newt spilled wine on Hermann’s dad at fundraiser once, and the resulting shouting match got them both (plus a not-very-innocent-bystander Hermann) thrown out. The verdict is still out on whether Newt did it intentionally or not. “I think they know me pretty well, dude,” he says.

“Introduce you,” Hermann continues, forcing the words out through gritted teeth, “as my…partner.”

They know we worked together, Newt almost says, and then he thinks ohhh. “Ohhh,” he says.

“Not that I desire their approval for our relationship,” Hermann adds quickly, “or have desired, ever. In fact I rather hope they don’t approve. It’s just that I…” He lifts a hand towards Newt’s arm, stops, grazes his fingers against Newt’s sleeve, and drops away. His teeth are clenched so tightly Newt wonders if he’s going to induce a migraine. “I’m—content with you. With how things are. I, well…” He makes another weird face, and slumps his shoulders forward.

“Content,” Newt says. “Aw, Hermann, that’s really romantic.” The worst part is that he means it. This is the most emotional candidness he’s gotten from Hermann in a very long time of knowing him, and he’s over the moon about it. “I’m cool with how things are, too. I like being your—” He can’t bring himself to say partner. Too academic of them, given their professions. It doesn’t feel gay enough. “—uh, guy. That’s stupid. Your significant guy. That’s stupider.”

Hermann’s mouth finally twists up into a little smile, which was exactly what Newt was going for. He nudges Hermann with his elbow and grins. “Anyway, what I’m saying is you have pleeeenty of time to show me off.”

“Your arrogance is one of your more attractive traits,” Hermann says.

It’s dark enough now that Newt can see the pinprick lights of stars in the sky above them, clear and unobscured by clouds or city lights. Newt thinks he would go nuts if he had to live this far out in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere 24/7, and maybe some of Hermann’s sexier issues make sense now that Newt’s seen his hometown, but a visit is somewhat worth it for this. “Hey, look,” Newt says, pointing and nudging Hermann with his elbow again until Hermann finally rolls his eyes and looks up. “Let’s worry about the phone or flashing S-O-S with our headlights or whatever later, we can actually see stars out here. You wanna give me an official Dr. Gottlieb astronomy 101 course? You know how hot it gets me.”

Hermann gives him another little smile, and Newt takes that as an invitation to throw his arm around Hermann's shoulders and yank him close. “I suppose,” Hermann says.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Isn’t Alycia’s latest post a perfect picture of the #MBFW Cabo trip? Could we have a peek at whatever you are working on for #MBFW? 🙏

Tiny sneak peek if ch3

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Lexa never really saw herself as much of a ‘chiffon and ruffles' kind of girl. 

Apparently she had slept-walked through the phase of daydreaming adolescence that seemed to have infected the greater population of her peers whenever homecoming and prom had rolled around over a decade earlier. Her general disposition and distinct lack of enthusiasm meant she had remained mercifully unscathed through most banquets and dinner parties, even managing to slip through the cracks of a few ill-conceived appearances at more distant friends' nuptials-to-be.

She'd thought she'd flown under the radar of pomp, frills, and satin for the entirety of her life. Safe in her cotton blends of sundresses, dress slacks, and half-undone button downs.

And yet there she stood, surrounded by shocks of bunting, bows, and lace.

It honestly made her feel a bit queasy.

Yet, the bridal shop had felt like a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the brunch turned midmorning affair. Eggs Benedict and half eaten sausage laid in discarded puddles of ketchup and syrup as everyone had moved from the sanctuary of their assigned tables to use the rest of the allotted time to catch up with old faces. But with a time crunch at hand and a very ‘Not Here To Mess Around’ Abby taking the reins, Lexa had found herself ushered out of the banquet hall and into Clarke's death trap of a convertible, right along with the bride-to-be and (soon-to-be ex) groom yet again. 

A lead footed trip across town had them screeching up in front of a small boutique that would've vaguely resembled any other dress storefront, if it were not for the general appearance that someone had thrown up pepto bismol coated taffeta all over anything that would sit still.

They'd been met inside by the shop owner herself, Abby having apparently taken an immediate liking to the stout dictator of a woman whose vaguely threatening aura was only enhanced by a thick European-esque accent that Lexa couldn't quite pin down. But between fluttering lashes and clasping hands and smiles that betrayed nothing short of gratitude and a willingness to do whatever the woman decreed, Lexa had been able to tell from the second they'd walked in that Abby was positively smitten.

She'd ushered the group in pairs, waving the bridal party toward her right in a bored jab of one calloused finger, while waving the other hand toward the tuxedo rental outlet that connected next door with a droll, “Anybody who wants a suit, you go there. Unless boys, you want dress as well. I can do that. Otherwise, you go. Go.”

Which was how Lexa had found herself standing awkwardly off to the side in a sea of her family, mixed in among people she'd only met about an hour before as each getting prodded, poked, and pinched by tiny but mighty hands in the name of getting their measurements. 

"I have been on dates that haven't felt this intimate," Raven grunted from her place on the pedestal before being unceremoniously spun around, just to have her arms yanked out to the sides the second she found her footing. "Ow, shit, lady."

"No curse in my shop. Only smiles. It's happy day," the owner droned out in hollow, monotone clips, before planting a hand on Raven's back and all but shoving her off to the side. “You're beautiful, yes, perfect. Okay, go.”

Raven stumbled out of the line with a backward scowl, making her way over to where the bride and maid of honor waited for the rest of the bridal party to finish their turn. "Who fuckin' let her outta the gulag early?"

Clarke barely paused in her casual perusal of the closest rack lined with dress options. "Hey, uh-uh. She's the only one who could promise to have all four bridesmaids dresses done in three days and do alterations for everyone else. Her work is supposedly immaculate—"

"And that's great, I'm in awe of her tiny bridal kingdom, but she doesn't have to give me a pap smear and a smack on the ass to get that done."

"At least she didn't actually feel you up," Lexa offered with a shiver at the memory of her turn in line. She double-checked that no one was paying attention to their little huddle before lowering her voice and bringing her hands up to roughly cup her own breasts. "Oh no. You have metal on your bosoms," she imitated the shopkeeper in an accented, disappointed whisper, "This will be no good. You take those out day of, okay?"

"Lexa—"

"They're nice, though, yeah," she continued over Clarke's chiding in the same mysterious accent, giving an added flick to one piercing studded nipple in question. "Not cross-eyed. Very nice. But no good for big day."

The trio worked to smother their giggles as Clarke reached out and dragged Lexa's hands away from her own chest. "Seriously, stop," Clarke whispered through her own fit of laughter. "If you offend her, mom is going to go ballistic."

"Tell me about it. Jake needs to get here pronto ‘cause I give it like another half hour tops before Abby’s ready to open the marriage."

"Besides," Clarke stressed, ignoring Raven entirely. "Don't listen to her. You know I don't care if your piercings show through your dress."

"She's telling you she wants you to put the girls on display,” Raven added with a sultry shimmy of her chest.

"Dude. My mother is fifteen feet away."

“Well you're the one telling her you want her highbeams on full blast.”

Clarke's face heated into a deep shade of pink as she leveled Raven with a glare and snatched another hangered dress off the rack. “That is not what I said. What I said was that it's not an issue. Lexa's nipples won't be an issue.”

“I've been your friend for a long time, Clarke. When has Lexa's nipples ever not been an issue?”

Lexa weakly interjected, “Maybe we could all stop talking about Lexa's nipples now. Maybe that's the real issue.”

“You brought ‘em up, cutie,” Raven husked with a smooch of her lips and a lecherous sweep of her tongue over her teeth. 

Lexa merely rolled her eyes, while Clarke piped up, “Stop flirting with my maid of honor, Raven.”

Raven snorted a laugh. “You first.”

Clarke made a garbled sound of dissent and whirled around, walking over to the connecting wall covered in mirrors without bothering to dignify that with an answer.

Seemingly pleased with her effect, Raven slung an arm over Lexa's shoulder and met her look of disapproval with an evil smirk. 

“You guys really make it way too easy.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Pain of the Past

A JSE Fanfic

SepticHeroes AU: Part 35

First Part | Previous Part | Read on AO3 at CrystalNinjaPhoenix

I so badly wanted to work the word "nostalgia" into the title, because fun fact, it comes from the roots meaning "pain" and "homecoming" and I find that factoid really fitting for this chapter. But I couldn't come up with anything good. Anyway! The guys have completed their prison breakout! Now, they have to drop off JJ and his friend somewhere safe. Chase drives them there, and in the process... learns something he never expected to learn. Seems like his life before forgetting wasn't as lonely as he thought... Heh. :3c

===============

Chase scanned the horizon once again. It was hard to see much of anything. The sun had mostly set, so he couldn’t quite figure out where the sky ended and the sea began. He idly pressed a finger to the transmitter on his throat. “So... are you guys getting close? I can’t really tell.”

“There is a light on the front of the boat,” Schneep’s voice said through the earpiece. “You will see us coming.”

“Maybe we should turn that off?” Marvin’s voice asked, also coming through the earpiece. “We don’t want them to know where we’re going.”

“I don’t think any of us know how to do that,” Schneep said slowly. “Perhaps we should stick back to the original plan? Steal one of the rowboats to go the rest of the way?”

“I didn’t expect it to be this dark, though...” Gwen said quietly. “I say we risk it. We already took a whole ship.”

As they talked, Chase saw a glimmer on the horizon. He squinted at it. “I think I see you guys? Hopefully that’s you and not any of the guys looking for you.”

“I hope not,” Marvin muttered. “Honestly? Now that I’m out of the Vault, their security was a bit more lax than I expected. It was way too easy to pretend to be a guard in there. Especially for a place that was supposed to be impossible to break out of.” He laughed. “The League’s all bark and no bite these days, I guess.”

The light on the horizon got closer. Chase opened his car door. Frosty, lying in the passenger seat, looked up in response. “Hm... yeah, you’re right, not worth standing up for,” Chase said, closing the door. “It’ll get close enough for me to see, anyway.”

“Who are you talking to, Chase?” Gwen asked.

“Oh, oops.” Chase forgot to turn off the transmitter. “Not you guys, just, uh... talking to Frosty. You know, my dog.”

“Aw yeah the cutie!” Gwen cooed. “I can’t wait to see him again.”

“You might, soon,” Marvin said. “I can see the coast coming up.”

“Oh! So that is you guys, then,” Chase said. “I’m waiting at the place. There’s no, uh... dock or anything. How are you going to get off the boat?”

His rental car was parked on a rocky beach. There was no road to get down here. He’d had to leave the highway, find a random dirt road, then go off that road, careful to go in a straight line so he made it to the right place. He really didn’t want to end up at a completely different spot than the one they’d agreed upon. How did they even agree on this spot in the first place? He couldn’t quite remember... but he had a vague idea that Marvin had found it? By scouting it out on maps or something? Well, it didn’t really matter in the end, otherwise he would’ve written it down.

“We’ll uh... figure it out,” Marvin said vaguely.

The light got closer and closer... and eventually Chase could see that it was, indeed, a ship. The ship pulled up to the beach not too far from the rental car... and then it kept going. And going. And going, beaching itself on the coast with a terrible sound of metal grinding against rocks. Frosty whined, upset at the racket it was causing. Chase pet him idly to calm him down until the ship stopped.

After a moment, Chase saw a rope fall over the side, dangling downwards. Schneep, still wearing full Specter gear, got over and climbed down, looking up. Marvin appeared on deck, pulling the rope back up. There was some movement on deck, and then the rope appeared again, now with a loop in the end. And someone climbed over the ship wall, putting their feet in the rope loop and allowing Marvin to lower them down—

Chase inhaled sharply. That was JJ. Jameson. “Oh my god,” he breathed. JJ looked... awful. It was hard to believe he’d only been gone for around a week. He was wearing this pale green jumpsuit that looked baggy even on his thin frame, and as he reached the ground he staggered and almost fell. Schneep had to catch him. 

Schneep and Marvin had to repeat the rope thing two more times, one for Gwen, one for this Soren guy that they apparently picked up along the way (they’d explained everything to Chase while they were sailing towards the meeting spot.) Then, as they started to walk over, Chase opened up the car door again and twisted around to face them fully, his legs dangling out into the open air. “H-hey... JJ.” He gave a nervous smile. “How... are you doing?”

JJ returned the smile. Better now that I’m out, I guess.

“Yeah. You look... bad. That place must’ve sucked.”

JJ nodded.

Soren walked up next to him. “So you’re... Chase, then?” He held out his hand. “Soren. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, uh, same, I guess.” Chase took his hand and shook it. He could feel the bones through Soren’s skin. “Apparently you’re that Pathos supervillain.”

“Hah. I don’t like the word villain. It removes the nuance from the situation. But at the same time, there’s some style to it, isn’t there?”

“I guess?” Chase said. “Wow. Your eyes are purple, that’s crazy.”

“Like them?” Soren asked, grinning.

“Yeah, they’re really unique.”

JJ stepped forward, moving close enough to force Soren to step back. Alright, back it up. Where are we going now, Chase?

Chase raised his eyebrow. That cutting-him-off maneuver wasn’t really like JJ. “You don’t need to be so jealous, dude, I just think purple eyes are neat, I’m not stealing  your friend from you.”

Jameson inhaled sharply. His face started to turn red, but he quickly repeated his question to distract from that. I’m not jealous. Anyway, where are we going now?

“Marvin has a friend who has a safe house,” Chase explained. “It’s back in Daindover.”

JJ stiffened, eyes clouding. We’re going back there? But... that’s where... 

Schneep put his hand on JJ’s shoulder. “I know, you are worried about Anti-Virus, the blackmailer,” he said softly. “But Dahlia is probably in the city. I... I want you to be able to see her as soon as possible. And, well... the League will not expect you to go back there.”

“If you want to go somewhere else, we can find a place, I’m sure,” Marvin assured him. “But that’ll take time. My friend has this safe house prepared already, there’s no electronic devices of any kind. No computers or anything. And none of us brought phones. Anti-Virus can’t find you there.”

After a moment, Jameson nodded slightly. Alright. Let’s go.

“Hm... there’s not much room in this car.” Gwen is peering through the window into the back seat. “We weren’t expecting to pick up Uncle Soren, so we’re down a seat.”

“One of you guys will have to sit on the cupholder thing,” Chase said, patting the space between the driver’s seat and passenger’s seat.

“Uh... we’re going on the motorway, that seems really unsafe,” Marvin said. “We can squeeze another person onto the backseat, I’m sure. Gwen, you have the shortest legs, wanna take the passenger seat with Frosty again?”

Gwen gasped. “Yes! Chase, can I pet him right now?”

Chase laughed. “Yeah, go ahead, he’s not working while I’m driving.”

“Yippee!” Gwen circled around the car to get to the passenger seat.

“Everyone else, pile in,” Chase said. “Schneep, get the clothes from the trunk. Try to buckle up, but if you can’t, uh... hold on tight, I guess?”

The guys got into the backseat, sitting really tightly together, legs pressed against each other—even overlapping slightly, as JJ’s leg is partially on top of Schneep’s. Soren and Marvin are on the ends, pushed up against the windows. “Alright, we brought this.” Schneep had gotten something out from the trunk. A backpack. He passed it to JJ. “There is a hoodie in there, put that on over that fucking jumpsuit.”

“What about Uncle Soren?” Gwen asked. “I know we didn’t prepare for him, but...”

“I got it.” Chase took off his jacket. “Now, JJ, don’t get jealous that I’m giving him my hoodie.”

I’m not jealous! JJ protested.

Soren laughed. “Oh? Why not? I think I’m worth getting jealous over.”

I’m not saying you’re not, JJ said. I’m just saying. I’m not jealous.

Chase laughed too. “Alright, JJ. Here, put that on, Soren.” He passed the jacket back, and Soren put it on. Then Chase started the car. “It’s gonna be a long ride, guys, I wouldn’t blame you all for taking a nap or something. Get some rest, I’ll get us back home.”

===============

It took about three and a half hours of driving to get back to Daindover, even with Chase going a bit over the speed limit. Marvin did, indeed, drift off for a bit. Chase could see him slumped against the window, breathing slowly. He must’ve spent a lot of energy back during the breakout. The others, though, stayed awake. 

Gwen and Soren were the only ones who were talking consistently. Soren was asking Gwen questions about different people they both knew, asking her how they were doing, how she was doing, if she was doing anything interesting in school or if she’d seen any good movies. Gwen was happy to answer. Schneep and JJ were pretty quiet by comparison. Schneep filled JJ in on some things that had happened while he was gone, about how the police and the League knew about Anti-Virus now, but didn’t know about Dahlia’s secret identity. JJ didn’t say anything. Or maybe he did, but just not while Chase was looking at his signs in the mirror.

By the time they got to the edge of the city, it was pretty late at night. Schneep shook Marvin awake. “We are here,” he said. “Where are we meeting Kanchana?”

Chase glanced back at him as he said that. They hadn’t told him the name of Marvin’s friend that they were going to meet after this. Just in case something went wrong and he got caught. Kanchana, huh? That was a very unique name. Had he... heard it from a video game or something? Because despite its uniqueness, he could have sworn this wasn’t the first time he heard a name like that.

Marvin rubbed his eyes. “Where’re we?” He mumbled, looking around. “Okay. Okay. Uh, turn left at Tortoise Street up here.”

Chase followed Marvin’s directions until he told him to pull to the side of the road in front of a small abandoned-looking church. There was another car in the car lot here. “This is it, then?” Chase asked.

“Yeah, that’s one of Kanchana’s cars,” Marvin said.

“One of?”

“She has a couple that she switches around.” Marvin opened up the door. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

The group left the car one by one. Chase was the last, as Frosty hopped out and circled around the car to help him get out. By the time he was out, a woman was approaching, having come out of the old church building. She had long black hair and dark eyes, and was wearing dark brown and beige so she blended into the surroundings. “Hey, Kanchana,” Marvin said. “This is JJ. And this is, uh... Soren. We, uh... ended up getting him out, too.”

Nice to meet you, JJ said, and Soren gave a little salute.

“Soren?” Kanchana asked. “Soren Moizone?”

“Mm-hmm.” Soren nodded.

“Oh, interesting. Well, it’s nice to meet you in person.” Kanchana held out her hand, which he shook. “I run HAUC, I think you’re familiar with that?”

“Oh! Yeah, I got some of my best men from you guys.” Soren smiled. “Good to know you’re still up and running.”

“Hah, yeah. It’s always work.” Kanchana chuckled. She then glanced over at Chase—and her expression shifted to surprise.

Marvin followed her gaze. “Oh. Kanchana, this is that friend I mentioned. The one who drove us?”

“I figured that,” Kanchana said. She gave a little laugh, sounding... relieved? “I never expected the driver was going to be you, Chase.”

Chase felt the wind get knocked out of him.

His name.

She... knew... his name.

How... did she... know his name?

How did she know his name?

 How did she know his name?!

“Hah?” Schneep blinked, confused. “Ah, I’m sorry, Miss Yang, do you... do you and Chase know each other?”

“I-I...” Chase’s voice was strained. “I don’t... I’m sorry, I don’t... remember you...”

“You don’t? Well, I guess we only met in person twice, but it’s me, hi.” Kanchana smiled and waved. “Kanchana Yang? How are you, by the way? It’s been three years, a lot must’ve happened. Did you work things out with Stacy?”

Chase’s knees gave out. Frosty was by his side immediately, trying to push him upwards again. When Chase didn’t respond to his attempts, Frosty hurried over to the nearest person—JJ—and started nudging him. JJ took the hint and walked to Chase, offering a hand to him. Chase took it, and JJ pulled him up—a feat which took a fair bit of effort in his weakened state. Are you alright, Chase? JJ asked once he was standing again.

That name.

He knew that name.

Of course he knew it, Stacy was a very common name, but—it was the way she said it. Implying that he was somehow connected to that name. Something about it struck a chord in his very soul.

“I’m... sorry, did it not go well?” Kanchana asked quietly.

Chase swallowed a lump in his throat. “I... don’t... My... I was...”

“Ah... Chase, do you want me to explain?” Schneep asked. Once Chase nodded, he turned back to Kanchana. “Chase was in an accident about two and a half years ago. He lost his memory, among other problems.”

“What? Chase has amnesia?!” Kanchana pressed a hand to her mouth. “W-well... I guess that would explain why you didn’t remember me.”

“We... knew each other?” Chase asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

“Of course. Well, uh, vaguely. Like I said, we only met two times in person. But I know everyone in HAUC. Or, everyone who was in HAUC, in your case.”

Marvin inhaled sharply. “What? Chase was in HAUC?”

“What’s... hawk?” Chase asked hesitantly.

“Henches Against Unfair Conditions,” Kanchana explained. “It’s a henchman order.”

Chase felt like he couldn’t breathe. And yet, he managed to speak. “A... henchman order. Like... like the people who... who help villains. Th-that’s what you... I-I was part of...? So I was a—” He took a step back, bracing himself against the car with a hand. 

Schneep shook his head. “There is no way. You must be mistaking him for some other Chase.”

There can’t be many people out there that look like Chase AND share his name, JJ pointed out.

“Well what other explanation is there?” Schneep asked. “I am sorry, ma’am, you must be mistaken.”

Kanchana shook her head. “I don’t make mistakes when it comes to people. My superpower is pretty minor, but it can’t be tricked. I can remember everything about anyone I’ve met. No matter how long ago I met them.” She looked at Chase again. “Chase Brody, right? You’re thirty? Birthday is April 11th?”

Chase nodded dazedly. The world around him felt like it was moving in slow-motion. Distant. Like he was trapped underwater, staring at his surroundings through the glass wall of a fish tank.

“But—But Chase would not be a henchman!” Schneep protested. “He is a good man!”

“Hey, henches are good people,” Kanchana said defensively, folding her arms. “Most of them just want to make a living. It’s just that... the only way they can do that is by working for bad people.”

“Bold thing to say to the leader of a henchman order, Specter,” Marvin muttered.

“I-I didn’t mean—” Schneep stammered. “I stole things for years, I am not objecting to this on a morality premise. I know that... sometimes, you are in a difficult situation, and there is only so much you can do. I just... Chase? Really?”

“What did I... do?” Chase whispered.

Kanchana looked at him, her eyes softening. “Do you actually want to know?”

Chase hesitated, then nodded.

“Well... you’re one of the few people who had experience with weapons before entering HAUC. You could use a handgun really well, mentioned that your dad taught you, but uh, you couldn’t really use those skills after you moved to the UK from the States. Even so, you had a leg up over a lot of people signing up to be grunts. You worked with us for six years, starting when you were twenty-one. I have no idea how you found HAUC, you never told me, but uh, that’s pretty young to be joining a henchman order. You took a lot of driving jobs, shooting jobs, you were on the no-kids list, which is understandable considering you had Abby—oh fuck, you have amnesia, do you even remember Abby?”

Chase felt his legs start to collapse again, but he grabbed onto the car to stop himself. Kanchana listing these facts about him felt so... disconnected, so surreal, like she was talking about a character in a TV show instead of telling him his own past. But the moment she mentioned that name—again, a common name—again, implying his connection to it—the moment she did that, it all clicked into place. It felt real, solid. 

“...I’ll take that as a no,” Kanchana whispered.

“Who the hell is Abby?” Marvin asked.

Schneep’s eyes widened behind his goggles. “A... child?”

A noise escaped Chase’s throat, something between a squeak and a groan.

Marvin’s eyes widened. “...holy shit, Chase has a kid, doesn’t he?” He looked at Chase. “Do—Does any of this—Are there memories—”

“I-I don’t... remember, e-exactly,” Chase said slowly. “But it feels... right. I... I-I can’t picture their faces. But... Stacy... a-and Abby... They... I... I know them. I-I do.” He stared down at the asphalt, taking in the cracks and details of the rocks. “K-Kanchana... do you... know them?”

“I never met them,” Kanchana whispered. “You... talked about them the couple times we met in person, though. And... they’re why you left HAUC.”

“Why?” Chase whispered.

“You said that... Stacy found out what your job really was. A-apparently you’d been hiding it from her. She didn’t react well. You said she ‘immediately’ left you, a-and you wanted help getting another job to try and go clean for her and Abby.”

“Did I find one?”

“Well, I sent you to SepTech’s Reformation Program,” Kanchana said slowly. “You emailed me and said they helped you out and you were leaving HAUC. And that was the last I heard of you.”

“And this was three years ago?” Schneep asked. When Kanchana nodded, he turned to Chase, whose eyes were still fixed on the ground. “Chase, your accident was two and a half years ago. At the East SepTech building, when it collapsed. That cannot be a coincidence! You were not just passing by, you were there because—because maybe you worked there?”

Chase didn’t answer. He didn’t say anything for a while. “Why... why didn’t anyone know about this?” He asked quietly. “I—J-just because she left, it doesn’t mean that... that people wouldn’t know... Th-there would’ve been a marriage certificate or something, right?”

“That is true,” Schneep said. “There was nothing for you. Only your driving license. That was the only record you had at all.”

“Which really doesn’t make sense,” Marvin said. “Because if you were part of the Reformation Program, that means you had a criminal record. But there wasn’t anything, was there?”

Schneep shook his head. Silence followed for a moment. Chase finally raised his head...

Just in time to see JJ sign something. Technopath.

“Huh?” Marvin blinked.

“Oh!” Gwen raised her hand. She and Soren had been standing off to the side while all this happened, quietly letting Chase and his friends have their moment. “Yeah! A technopath could totally wipe digital records of all kinds. They couldn’t do anything about the paper copies, but if you had some identification that showed up, then I bet whoever looked into your amnesia would’ve figured that was all.”

Schneep inhaled sharply. “Could it... could it have been Anti-Virus? Could he have wiped your records?”

“Why, though?” Chase whispered.

Marvin frowned. “Well, I don’t know why Anti-Virus would want to wipe some of Chase’s records, but let’s say that he did do it, for some reason. That means that he and Chase probably knew each other, right? Maybe... they met at SepTech?”

Schneep folded his arms, looking thoughtful. “That would be more evidence to our theory about Anti-Virus being Dr. McLoughlin.”

“The head of SepTech?” Kanchana asked. “Why would he want to attack his own business?”

“Well he’s not fully in charge of it,” Marvin said. “The McLoughlin family may have founded SepTech, but it’s run by a board now. He’s not fully in control. Maybe... he wants to be. For some... plan or something.”

Soren coughed. “Well, this all sounds very important, but um... the longer we stand out here, the more attention we draw. And we don’t want that when we’re still stuck in these jumpsuits. Chase, do you want your jacket back, by the way?”

“Oh, uh, n-no, you can keep it,” Chase said. “I’ll pick it up... later. From wherever you guys are staying.”

So you guys are going to know where we’re staying? JJ asked.

“That was the plan,” Marvin said. “We can’t use phones to contact you, so we’ll have to stop by in person to update you on stuff.”

“Don’t worry, there’s a secret way into the house if they need to avoid attention,” Kanchana added. “Anyway, Soren is right, we don’t want to draw too much attention. Jameson, Soren? Come on. I’ll drive you the rest of the way to the place. And as for you three.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out three loose sticky notes, handing one to Schneep, Marvin, and Gwen. “This is the address. Share it with people you trust. Uh... not through text or anything.”

“Oh yeah, definitely not,” Marvin said, putting the sticky note into a pocket in his costume. He looked at JJ. “Well... I-I can check on you tomorrow evening, if you want. See how you’re... settling down.”

JJ smiled slightly. I’d appreciate that. But... well, I’m exhausted. Soren probably is, too. I think we should get to this safe house so we can lie down.

Schneep blinked. “Did you give Soren here a name sign?”

Jameson nodded. Why wouldn’t I? He was one of the few people I could talk to. We... spent a lot of time together. Was his face turning red?

“Mm-hm, mm-hm.” Schneep nodded. “So, what did you two do while you were spending time together?”

That’s not important, JJ said quickly. The point is, I think we should go now. We’ve delayed long enough.

Kanchana started walking towards the car parked in the car lot. “Yeah, come on, you two. As for the rest of you, leave the rented car here, I’ll send someone to take it back to the rental place. Just in case you were trailed.”

“I don’t think we were, but that’s a good idea,” Gwen said. She took off her mask and jacket with the circuit patterns, suddenly looking like any other pedestrian on the street. “We can take the night train home!”

“I’ll ride with you, Gwen,” Marvin offered.

“Thanks, Spitfire!”

“Be careful, Gwen,” Soren said. “Stop by some time, okay? But... not too much. Stay safe, you know? Uh, and don’t tell your parents I’m back yet. Just in case.”

“Aw.” Gwen’s shoulders slumped. “Mom would be so happy to hear that, though. But alright. I know that we gotta be cautious.” She gave him a quick hug. “Good luck, Soren!”

Soren smiled. “Thanks, Gwen. You two.” He patted her back, and then drew away. “Jameson?”

JJ nodded. He looked at Schneep, Chase, and Marvin. I’ll see you three later, then. Tell Jackie... Tell him he was helpful. And that I’m alright.

“I’ll do that,” Chase whispered.

“Stay safe, Jamie,” Schneep said.

JJ gave Schneep a shoulder hug, then hurried after Soren and Kanchana. The three of them got into the car, which then drove off.

“Well... see you guys,” Marvin said, taking off his costume to reveal the normal clothes he was wearing beneath. “Gwen and I are going to the train station on Olive. What about you?”

“There’s another in Midway, I think that one is closer,” Schneep said. “We will go there. See you later.”

Marvin smiled, Gwen waved, and then they started walking, leaving Schneep and Chase alone.

Schneep glanced at Chase. “How... h-how are you doing? That information Kanchana shared... it was... A-are you okay?”

Chase stared back at him, then took a deep breath. “I will be. Just, uh... give me some time.” He picked up Frosty’s leash. “I’ll just go to the train station.”

“Do you want me to ride the train with you?”

“No, your place is in the opposite direction. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Schneep’s voice was gentle, like he was afraid Chase would shatter into pieces if he was too loud.

“I’m sure.” Chase gave him a shaky smile. “I have a lot to think about, anyway. The train ride will give me time.”

“Alright... let’s at least walk together.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Chase whispered.

The two of them walked to the train station in silence.

===============

Jackie tried to keep himself busy all day, but the moment Chase left to meet up with Schneep and Marvin at the car rental place, he found he couldn’t concentrate on anything. He tried going on patrol, but with how distracted he was by the dread and anxiety pooling in his stomach, he knew he wouldn’t be able to snap into action if he tried to stop any crimes. So in the end, he decided the police could handle the city for one day and stayed home, trying to relax. But even that was difficult, as no activity could take him away from his thoughts. He switched through things rapidly until he eventually decided to try and go to bed early. It didn’t work. So he ended up just lying under the covers and watching YouTube on his phone.

But finally, he drifted off—only to snap awake at the sound of the front door opening and closing. He sat up, knocking his phone from his stomach to the ground, but didn’t bother to pick it up as he got out of bed and left the room, hurrying to the living room.

“Chase!” Jackie called out to him the moment he saw Chase and Frosty. “How did it go? I-is he—Did you get—Is everything okay?”

Chase looked up at him... but not directly at him. His eyes were... distant. “Uh, hey, Jackie. Y-yeah. It went... I think they had to come up with stuff at a couple times, but... he’s out. He wanted to... He wanted everyone in there to leave with him, but they couldn’t really... do that. But they did get another guy.”

“They got someone else out?” Jackie asked, surprised. “Who? Actually, no, this isn’t the time to talk about this.” They wouldn’t have broken someone out of prison who was supposed to be here, so the guy they broke out with JJ was probably fine. Not too bad with a criminal. Onto more important matters. “Are you alright, Chase? Are you tired or something? You seem a bit out of it.”

“I...” Chase shook his head. He walked over to the sofa and collapsed. Frosty put his paws on his leg and pushed his face into Chase’s, sniffing him worriedly.

“...Chase?” Jackie walked over and sat down next to him. “Did something happen?”

“I have a wife and kid,” Chase blurted out.

Jackie leaned back. “Excuse me?”

“I just found it out now, it turns out that I-I knew Marvin’s friend before I lost my memory, a-and she remembers me, and she works for—she runs a henchmen order and she said I was part of that but then Stacy got upset so I tried to go legit and I was part of the Reforming Program but then I lost my memory—and Anti-Virus might’ve made it so that I wasn’t married to her, like by deleting digital records or something, but I don’t know why he’d have done that but honestly I don’t know if I care when I just found out that Stacy and Abby were there, they were my wife and kid this whole time, and I didn’t remember them, I didn’t fucking remember them, Jackie—”

“Whoa, okay, hold your fucking horses.” Jackie held up his hand. His head was spinning. This was a lot for him to process after just waking up from a nap. “Marvin’s friend Kanchana? She knew you? Are you sure?”

Chase nodded. “She has that superpower, uh, she remembers everyone she’s met. And the second she looked at me she knew me. The second she looked at me, Jackie. She knew my name before anyone told her. Sh-she knew my birthday. She knew me.” Tears began to line his eyes. “She knew about my family.”

“But... you couldn’t be... you couldn’t have been a henchman,” Jackie said slowly.

“Schneep said that too! But it’s the truth, apparently!” Chase laughed. “Apparently I know how to shoot a gun? Apparently I—I-I worked for villains for like, six years? I don’t know! I don’t know what I did! It’s still a biiiig blank up here!” He smacked the side of his head.

“Woah, don’t hit yourself, man.” Jackie reached out and gently moved Chase’s hand downwards. “O-okay, well... if meeting Schneep, JJ, and Marvin has taught me anything, it’s that... villains and heroes aren’t all black and white. So the same thing has to apply to henches, right? You’re still a good person, Chase.”

“What if I wasn’t in the past, though?” Chase whispered, eyes wide.

“Well... then you can change. After all, amnesia is almost like a fresh start, isn’t it?”

Chase didn’t say anything for a second. Frosty climbed up closer, resting his head against Chase’s chest, and Chase absentmindedly petted his fur. “But... I don’t... want a fresh start,” he said quietly. “Not if it means... losing everything from my old life. If it means losing... the two of them.”

“Right... yeah.” Jackie hesitated. “You said you have a wife and kid?”

“Yeah,” Chase breathed. “Marvin’s friend mentioned them. Stacy and Abby. A-and... I feel like... like... I-I don’t know. That sounded familiar. But the memories aren’t there.”

“Well that’s good isn’t it?” Jackie said.

“...I guess.”

“You guess?!” Jackie nudged Chase slightly. “You have family, dude. That’s great! You thought you didn’t, turns out you did, isn’t that great? You have a family!”

“Then why didn’t they come for me?!” Chase suddenly shouted. Frosty jerked back in surprise. “Why didn’t they come for me, Jackie?!” The tears started to fill his eyes again, spilling over. “It’s been over two fucking years! Even if the records were deleted, why didn’t they wonder where I was?! Was I that bad a father? That bad a husband? Did they hate me that much?! Did I do something that they couldn’t forgive me for?! What the fuck did I do, Jackie?! Why didn’t they come for me?! Did they hate me?!” He fell back against the sofa, sobbing. Frosty recovered from his surprise and resumed his position, leaning his whole weight on Chase.

Jackie was speechless. He had no idea what to say. How was he supposed to comfort Chase about something like this? After a few seconds, he just reached out and put his hand on Chase’s shoulder. “They don’t hate you, Chase,” he whispered.

Chase sniffed, wiping his eyes, trying and failing to stop crying. “But—But a-apparently Stacy—my wife she—she left th-the minute she found out about—about the henchman thing. A-and—and that c-can’t be good. Maybe—maybe she—she c-cut contact? Maybe she—”

“Hey, hey, Chase,” Jackie said softly. “You don’t know any of this. You don’t remember, and even if you did, you don’t know what, uh, Stacy has been thinking in the past two years. Maybe she tried to find you, but couldn’t. After all, didn’t you say that Anti-Virus might’ve messed with your records? Maybe—maybe he deleted your phone contacts. Or even Stacy’s contacts. And you didn’t have any social media before this, right? Nothing they found? So... maybe it’s the same for that.”

“What if h-he didn’t, though?” Chase asked. “What if—what if they just don’t want—What if they want to forget about me? What i-if—what if I deserve to be forgotten?”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that,” Jackie said fiercely. Chase looked at him, surprised, still breathing quickly from the crying. “Chase, you are my best friend. You do not deserve to be forgotten. No matter what you did in the past. If you did something really bad, you can still move past that. And, honestly, I feel like if you did something especially evil, someone would’ve recognized you by now, so there’s that, at least.” He gave a little laugh, but Chase just stared at him silently, so Jackie gave up on that. “Look. I don’t know why your family wouldn’t have reached out to you. I can’t... possibly imagine what you’re feeling right now. It’s probably really complicated. But... I’m here. No matter what, I’ll always be here.”

Chase looked at him. “Even if... it turns out I... did something terrible in my past?”

“Well, Marvin’s also done terrible things,” Jackie said. “He admitted to killing someone, remember? And Schneep’s been a thief for years. And JJ—well. Even if he was blackmailed into that, he still did some real bad stuff. Are you saying you’d abandon them because of that?”

“N-no...”

“Exactly.” Jackie nodded. “I may not agree with what Marvin’s done, and I may not have ever done what Schneep did, but... they’re still people. And you’re a person, too. A person who I care about. A person... I don’t want to forget. I-I don’t know how to deal with the family situation. But whatever you want to do about that, I’ll help you with it. Even if you just need me to stay by you.”

Chase started crying again, silent tears this time, trailing down his cheeks. “Th-thanks, Jackie. I... I-I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know if I should go looking for them, or... or what. But... thank you. F-for saying all that.”

“Anytime, Chase,” Jackie said quietly. “Is... is there anything I can do for you right now?”

“Hah. I’m just gonna sit here for a minute. Let Frosty do his job.” Chase patted Frosty’s back. “He’s a good boy.”

“He is, he really is.” Jackie smiled slightly. “Hey, uh... are you hungry? We could order pizza. Mara’s does delivery this late.”

Chase laughed quietly. “Yeah. Let’s do that. We can talk about... about the implications later. Like... Anti-Virus and all that.”

“Yeah.” That part in particular gave Jackie a pit in his stomach. The possibility that the villain had messed with Chase before he lost his memory, before all this started... it scared him. But this wasn’t the time to show this. Chase had a lot more to deal with right now. “We’ll talk about that later. I’ll go order the pizza. I left my phone in the other room, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” Chase said, still patting Frosty.

Jackie smiled. He stood up and went back into his room, quickly ordering pizza from one of their local places. Then he returned to the living room and turned on the TV, putting on a show for background noise. He could tell Chase appreciated the distraction. And he needed it, himself, too.

Once the pizza arrived, they ate, and then went to their rooms to go to bed. Jackie went to sleep surprisingly quickly, for all that was on his mind. Chase would have lied awake longer, if Frosty hadn’t been a comforting weight by his side, allowing him to drift off and forget about everything he’d forgotten.

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 21

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

Ben is waiting for her at baggage claim. Satine grins at him as he wraps his arms around her, and it’s a homecoming twice over.

He knows she didn’t check any bags, so they bypass the throngs of disgruntled travelers waiting around the carousels. Though he has his own travel bag on his back, he takes hers as well, putting it on one shoulder, and his free hand grabs hers.

“How was your drive?” Satine asks.

“Better than flying,” says Ben. “The timing was convenient, too - I just returned the rental car half an hour ago, so I wasn’t waiting long.”

Satine nods. “Good.” She smiles. “And how was your job talk?”

“As smooth as I could have hoped for,” Ben says. “I just hope Anakin managed not to lose his PowerPoint remote in the meantime - it’s not like he could borrow mine when I was at Princeton.”

“I’m sure he was fine,” says Satine as they begin to navigate their way to the Metro. “Eventually, you know, he’ll have to survive without you.”

“Oh, I know he was fine,” says Ben. “You’ve heard Anakin talk; you know he could lecture without a PowerPoint. It’s his students I’d be worried about. Can you imagine following his train of thought without bulleted notes to keep him on track?”

“I can, but I’d prefer not to,” Satine says, and Ben just laughs. As they wait for their train to arrive, she turns to Ben. “What is Anakin planning to do after his postdoc ends? That’ll be in May, right?”

But at that moment, Ben’s phone chimes, signaling an incoming call from Anakin himself. Satine tenses, knowing what the call will likely be.

Ben puts the phone to his ear. Before he even greets Anakin, Anakin is already talking.

“Let me know what I can do,” says Ben. “And if you need anything.” And he hangs up. “Padma went into labor,” he confirms. “So, to answer your question: I think Anakin couldn’t care less about what he does after his postdoc ends. In fact, I’d hazard a guess that it’s basically ended now. He’ll take paternity leave, but I kind of wonder if he’ll come back after that.”

Their train arrives at that moment, and they board a car that’s not too empty nor too full.

“You’re taking over one of his classes?” says Satine as they sit down together.

“As is Ventress,” says Ben. “He gets six weeks’ leave, which I don’t think is nearly enough - especially for twins. But like I said, he might decide just not to come back. So I may be more than 100% FTE for the rest of the semester.” He shrugs. “At least it’s a class I’ve taught before. No prep work involved.”

“What should we get them?” Satine asks. “I’d imagine Padma has pretty much everything she’d need, but it still feels like we should bring them something.”

“She had a baby shower before you two became close,” confirms Ben. “So let’s just plan on prepping some meals for them. You can’t go wrong with food. I think they’ll be thrilled.”

He grabs her hand again as the doors to the train close, and they are pulled away from the station.

---

On Sunday, Satine and Ben get back on the Metro to head toward Embassy Row, each carrying a bag of frozen meals in one hand. They end up taking a cab after disembarking at Dupont Circle, as waiting around for a bus transfer would take too long, and the walk is too far.

When they arrive, Anakin opens the door, looking exhausted but immensely happy. Like he’d done the last time they visited, he embraces them both as they walk in, noticing belatedly that they are both carrying bags of food. He grabs all four bags from them and ushers them into the kitchen. He unpacks the bags with a look of awe. “There must be hundreds of dollars worth of meals in here,” he says as he plays Tetris with the freezer. “Thank you both.” Shutting the door to the freezer, he gives Ben and then Satine another hug. “You are definitely the cool uncle and auntie.”

Satine returns the embrace. 

“Come on,” Anakin says. “Padma’s awake upstairs. And I want you to meet the twins.”

And he leads them up the stairs, into the brightly colored nursery. 

Padma is currently seated, rocking one baby, but her eyes light up as Ben and Satine enter the room. She moves to stand up, but Satine places a hand on her shoulder. “No need to get up on our behalf,” she says. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” says Padma, and Satine thinks she is practically glowing. Satine's eyes flicker over to the crib, where the other baby lies. “The doc said it was the easiest delivery of twins she’d ever done. I’m just very, very grateful.” She shifts slightly so that Satine and Ben can better see the swaddled infant. “This is Leia.”

“She’s a handful already,” grumbles Anakin, but there’s a fondness in his voice that he can’t hide. “You want to hold her, Ben?”

And without waiting for his reply, Anakin picks up Leia and deposits her into Ben’s arms. Leia blinks up at him, her brown eyes searching.

“Very discerning already,” notes Ben with a chuckle.

“Behave,” Anakin says pointedly to Leia. “You want to get on Uncle Ben’s good side. Especially if we’re counting on him to babysit at some point.” He scratches his head. “We probably should have started you both with Luke. He’s usually better behaved than she is.”

Satine laughs softly at this. “I don’t know,” she says. “Leia’s doing perfectly well with Ben. What a princess.”

Padma smiles. “I think that description is more apt than you realize,” she says, laughing, while Anakin picks up Luke.

“Here, Satine,” says Anakin, and Satine’s arms are suddenly weighed down with warmth. Luke blinks at her with wide blue eyes.

She breathes in, pressing her lips to the wispy thin hair on the top of his head. “They both really are perfect,” she says, looking over at Ben, who is still watching Leia with awe.

Satine thinks she recognizes that expression: it’s the one he wears when he looks at her.

And the one she wears when she looks at Ben.

---

That Tuesday, Satine eats lunch with Asajj at one of the outdoor tables on campus, and Asajj tells her about her fieldwork from over the summer. She’s yet to fully analyze it, but she thinks it’s strong enough to warrant a full manuscript as opposed to separate journal articles.

“If you’d like,” says Satine, “I’d be happy to connect you with my publisher. I know they’re looking for book proposals at the moment.”

“I’d appreciate that,” says Asajj. “Thank you.” She pauses, pushing her empty lunchbox to the side. “So how is self defense training coming along? I assume you and Kenobi continued throughout the summer?”

Satine smirks. “Well, Ben says I’m doing well, but he’s also got a terrible blind spot when it comes to me. So I’d say I’m progressing perfectly adequately. I mean, it was enough, you know, last spring.”

Asajj nods. “You never heard anything else about Malek, did you? Or anything from Title IX?”

Satine shakes her head.

“You could sue them, you know,” says Asajj. “I assume you took screenshots or saved emails or something when you submitted your complaint to the Title IX office?”

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” Satine says. “But with everything else - ” 

She gestures vaguely at the air.

“ - it’s just been rather low on my triage list.”

“I understand,” says Asajj. “If or when you do decide to take it further, you have me as a witness to the aftermath. I saved the texts and everything.”

Satine nods, her throat suddenly tight. Asajj seems to understand her unspoken thank you.

Asajj changes the subject. “My new grad student this year is interested in doing mixed methods work. Would it be okay if I gave them your email address so you can assist with the qual stuff?”

“Absolutely. Just give them warning that I’m really not sure where I’ll be come next semester. I’m happy to help virtually even if I end up somewhere else, but some students may not prefer that.”

“That won’t be a problem,” says Asajj. “Thanks. She has a lot of potential. She’s from Aotearoa - she’s Māori - and she brings good experience to the table. A little green still, but I’ll train her up.”

Satine nods. “We both will.” She smiles, crossing one arm over the other as she leans against the table, and her ring sparkles in the sunlight.

Asajj’s eyes are drawn to the ring. “That reminds me,” she says, bending down to rummage through her bag. She withdraws what appears to be a folded-up blanket. It’s mostly steel blue but interspersed through the blue are white geometric patterns, and it’s breathtaking.

Asajj passes it to her.

“Vos and I felt bad about missing your engagement party,” she says. “So we wanted to get you and Kenobi something instead.”

“You didn’t need to - ”

Asajj smiles. “I know.”

Satine opens up the blanket to examine it more closely.

“In many Indigenous cultures,” says Asajj, “blankets are an important type of gift. They’re often given at life milestones, like graduations or weddings or births. I saw this one this past summer while in the field and thought of you and Kenobi.”

Satine pulls the fabric toward her, speechless.

“I’m glad you’re here, Satine,” says Asajj. “This place…this is your home, too.”

It takes a moment for Satine’s vocal cords to begin working again. “Thank you,” says Satine. “I’ll treasure it.”

The bell in the tower over at Healy Hall chimes, and Asajj sighs. “I’ve got to get going - class to prep. Still on for Friday, though?”

Satine nods at her. “Count on it.”

---

The following week, Satine finishes the first draft of her book and sends it to her publisher. Just as she’s finishing sending the files, a knock sounds at her door. Satine looks up.

“Ahsoka! Come in. I want to hear all about data collection.”

There’s a calm and composure to Ahsoka that hadn’t been there in the spring, Satine immediately notices, as Ahsoka sits in the chair in front of Satine’s desk and tells her about the highlights of her summer. Fieldwork, Satine reflects, often has that effect.

Eventually, Ahsoka says, “I got a small grant from the department so I could send my interviews to be professionally transcribed. So I’m waiting on the transcripts, but those should be back sometime next week.”

Satine is impressed and tells Ahsoka so. “That’s fantastic, especially for a second year master’s student,” she adds.

Ahsoka grins. “Thanks,” she says. She leans forward. “I was wondering if I could go over the first draft of my codebook with you. I’ve already worked with Ben on it a bit, but I thought you’d have some insights.”

Satine nods, clearing a space on her desk, and Ahsoka places her laptop there. “What do you have so far?”

Ahsoka brings up the document. “Ben suggested a mix of inductive and deductive coding. Obviously each has their strengths, but I can’t do a completely open coding project because I simply don’t have enough person hours available to code that. So I need something more structured, but not structured enough that I’m missing insights because of my preconceived structure and biases.”

Satine rests her chin on her hand, her elbow on her desk. “He’s right, of course. But don’t tell him I said that.”

Ahsoka laughs.

Satine gives her a smile. “Can you pull up your interview guide as well? I’d like to see the questions you asked. Then we can make sure your codes cover everything.”

Ahsoka nods, turning her attention back to the laptop as she navigates to another document.

Behind her, Ben walks past the door. He catches Satine’s eye and shoots her a grin.

---

Satine and Ben fly to Paris the following Monday evening.

It’s a long flight, only helped slightly by the fact that it is overnight. Neither of them manage to sleep much, however, and they land in Paris on Tuesday in the early afternoon feeling jet-lagged. Since the conference won’t start until the following day, they decide to drop their bags at the hotel and then wander around, desperately trying to stay awake.

Ben, having grown up so close to Paris, has visited before, but he doesn’t remember much of the city from so long ago. Satine is more familiar, having been on holiday a few times with her adoptive parents when she lived in Norway. They try to avoid too many of the touristy stops, but Ben insists on seeing the Eiffel Tower, and Satine will not be dissuaded from visiting the catacombs.

As they follow their tour guide past walls of skulls underground, Ben doesn’t let go of Satine’s hand, and his discomfort is obvious. “Marry an anthropologist, they said,” he mutters. “It will be fun, they said.”

Satine just snickers.

The conference begins the next morning, and while they mostly stick together, they occasionally go their separate ways to catch different presentations of interest held in opposite parts of the conference building. Satine runs into a couple of colleagues from Northwestern and spends a happy few hours catching up with them, genuinely excited to learn where their careers have taken them since she’d finished her postdoc.

On Thursday, Ben gets a call from Princeton: while they were immensely impressed with his credentials and his job talk, they have chosen another candidate.

“Are you okay?” asks Satine as they sit together at an outdoor table at a café to escape the hustle of the conference and allow him room to breathe.

He sips his tea. “I think so,” he says. “It’s not like I really wanted the job; I just wanted to find a job with you. And we’ll still be able to make that happen.”

Satine nods. “We will,” she agrees. “Also, I feel obligated to say that it’s their loss. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Ben shrugs. “I know it’s not personal. Like you said, they may have had an internal candidate in mind already. At the very least, it was good experience.” He takes a bite of croissant. “When are you supposed to hear back from Harvard?”

“Literally any day now,” Satine admits. 

And she does - the very next day.

She’s seated in the audience as the next speaker takes the podium, Ben at a different presentation, when her phone vibrates. Before the speaker can begin, Satine slips from the room and closes the door behind her, careful not to interrupt the presentation.

She answers the call with tempered expectations. It has been a while since her on campus interview, and in her experience, usually that means HR has offered the position to the first choice candidate, who is taking their time to negotiate. HR, in the meantime, bids their time in telling the other candidates - because if the first candidate falls through, they can move onto the next candidate without needing to inform them that they were the second choice.

“Dr. Kryze?”

“This is she,” says Satine.

The caller introduces themself and then continues. “I’m so sorry about the delay in our response,” they say. “It took longer than we anticipated to get everything approved by the university, considering we wanted both you and your fiancé.”

Despite her best efforts, Satine cannot help but feel her hopes rise as the caller continues.

“We’d like to extend a formal offer for you and Dr. Kenobi to join us at Harvard in the spring.”

Satine nearly drops the phone.

“I’m honored and speechless,” says Satine breathlessly, after she's pulled herself together. “Thank you so much.”

“I take it you’re open to seeing the offer then? Or I guess I should say offers.”

“Yes, please,” says Satine, still giddy.

“I’ll send some paperwork via email for you and your fiancé to review, then. If you have questions, feel free to reach out; I’ll be happy to answer them. I’ll also include information on the relocation allowance, as well as benefits like health insurance and retirement contributions.”

“Thank you so much,” says Satine. “I look forward to receiving everything.”

The call ends quickly after that, and Satine leans against the wall in the hallway.

She can stay. 

She can stay with Ben.

She covers her mouth with her hand, hardly daring to believe it.

Then she texts Ben to meet her in the hotel room.

They have a lot to celebrate.

---

The next morning, Satine is seated in the back of a panel presentation. The room is about half-full, with most of the audience toward the front. Ben is listening to another panel, and she’s grateful, in a way - she’s still on a high from hearing back from Harvard the night before, and how they’d celebrated afterward, that she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep her hands to herself.

Satine peruses the conference program, planning out which sessions she’d like to attend next.

Suddenly, a man sits next to her. Satine is immediately on guard - it’s against etiquette to choose a seat so close to someone else when so many seats are available - and she turns to look at the man.

She doesn’t know him by name, but - like Malek - she has seen him before. 

He’s also a member of the Secretary of State’s “privy council”.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” says the man in a low, wheezy voice. “I’m Gunnar Greeves.”

Satine’s eyes narrow. This name she does know, even if she hadn’t been able to link it to a face. He’d served as a general in the American army before becoming an advisor to SecState. Satine is familiar with his strategics across various conflicts.

She hadn’t agreed with any of them.

“I wish I could say it was a pleasure,” Satine mutters.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” says Greeves. “After all, I’m doing you a favor.”

He begins to cough.

COPD from smoking, thinks Satine, if the smell of cigarettes on him is any indication. Heart failure in more ways than one, apparently.

“I think you and I have different definitions of that term.”

“Perhaps,” admits Greeves. 

“Look, let’s forgo niceties,” says Satine sharply, her voice still low. “You’re here to deliver a message from Palpatine, correct? So deliver your message and be on your way.”

Greeves sighs, coughing again. “Very well. The Secretary wants to give a final reminder. He’s already approved the keynote address you’ve prepared. He hopes there will be no deviations.”

“Or what?” says Satine. “He’ll tell Customs to prevent my entry back?”

Greeves just holds her gaze, and it’s all the confirmation she needs.

Eventually, he speaks again, voice so quiet that Satine can barely hear it. 

“Your ability to travel freely between countries is not the only thing at risk here,” he says. “It would be a shame if that speech were to come between you and your fiancé.” The first sentence he manages to complete entirely without coughing, but he barely gets out the last word of the second sentence before beginning to struggle for breath.

Satine turns her head sharply to the front of the room so that Greeves cannot read her expression.

He doesn’t have to explain further.

If Satine goes off-script, she’ll be blocked from entering America again, forcing her to return to Norway. If she goes off-script, the Secretary will pull strings so that Ben cannot join her in Norway.

“Message received,” whispers Satine.

“Then good day, Ms. Kryze,” says Greeves, and he stands to exit the room, not bothering to mitigate the noise of the door he slams behind him as he leaves, startling the panelists.

Satine just stares resolutely ahead, even well after the panel has ended.

---

All too soon, the morning fades to day, and the day to evening.

Satine is exhausted. She’d gone from the elation of the call from Harvard to the devastation of the encounter with Greeves to the high of another email that afternoon - and the latter two she hasn’t yet shared with Ben.

Satine is also drained from a week of perpetually needing to be “on” - needing to smile on cue, needing to be gracious whenever someone approaches her at the conference, needing to prevent herself from rolling her eyes during a presentation when the researcher explains his rationale for using the wrong statistical analysis.

She and Ben laugh about this, out on the balcony of their hotel room. It’s a small balcony, really just large enough to fit one person comfortably. But that’s irrelevant, really, when his arms are around her waist and her back is pressed against his chest, the warmth from his skin fighting off the cool of the brisk autumn evening air. Paris is alive beneath them, the City of Love bustling with activity and sound. They aren’t all that far from the Norwegian Embassy, fairly close to the Champs-Élysées; they can see the Arc de Triomphe lit up in the distance. Satine wishes she had more time.

More time in Paris, more time with Ben - just more time.

“I’m not a quant person, and even I knew that,” Satine says, referring to the stats gaffe, and he chuckles into her neck. Satine rests her hand over his, twining their fingers together. “I got an email today,” she tells him.

He kisses the bare skin of the crook of her neck. “Hardly surprising; each day you must receive dozens.”

Satine hopes he can’t feel the way her pulse races. She breathes in.

“This one was from the NSF.”

She looks at him over her shoulder, taking in his furrowed brow.

“Back in April,” Satine explains, “I applied for the Faculty Early Career Development Program grant.”

Ben’s confusion grows more obvious.

“I didn’t tell you because it was a long shot,” she admits. “It seemed incredibly unlikely that I even had a chance to get it.”

Satine breathes out.

“I got it,” she says. “I got the grant, Ben.”

His confusion switches instantly to a rush of other emotions: elation, excitement, awe, and then, finally, pride. Ben turns her around so that they are face-to-face, his hands now resting on her hips. Then his eyes search hers.

“You got it?” he whispers, and it’s like he’s afraid to speak the words out loud for fear of banishing them.

She nods. “It’ll fund five years of my salary at an institution of my choosing. I can stay at Georgetown.” She clears her throat. “We��can stay at Georgetown.”

He just gapes at her, jaw slack, and she thinks it may be one of the rare occasions in which she has left him speechless.

Satine grins. “Nothing to say to that, hmm?”

Ben raises a hand to her jaw. “What is there to say to that?” he marvels. Then he crushes her against his chest, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Congratulations, Satine. I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“Do you think they’ll let me keep my office?” she whispers against him.

He laughs. “They’d probably let you have the office of your choosing with a grant like that one,” he says.

“Then I choose to stay, right next to you.”

And Ben just laughs again. “I can hardly believe this,” he whispers in her ear.

She pulls back to look at him.

“What is it?” he says, reading her expression.

She sighs. “One of Palpatine’s privy council sat next to me at a panel today,” she says. “He confirmed that if I go off-script during my talk tomorrow, I won’t be allowed back into the United States.”

Ben nods. “It’s what we expected,” he says. “That doesn’t make it any easier to hear, though. Especially not after hearing about the grant.” He searches her gaze. “What are you thinking?”

Satine pulls back slightly to put some distance between them, but she doesn’t let go of his hand. “There’s no winning. I get to keep my fiancé and my friends, or I do the right thing and act as a whistleblower. If I choose the latter, there’s no guaranteeing I’ll see you anytime soon. You have to return to the States after this conference, and the message also made clear that they would continue to pull strings.” She’s angry again at the recurring image of the marionette. “What if those strings mean you become persona non grata in Norway now?”

Ben sighs. “Retribution doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility,” he admits.

Satine takes a deep breath. “If I go that route, I have to leave behind the grant,” she says. “And, not that it matters much now, I’d have to leave the offer from Harvard. I’d miss my immigration hearing back home. How much of my life is worth giving up to do the right thing?”

Ben grabs her hands and holds them to his chest, kissing the knuckles on first one hand and then the other.

“I think the fact that you’re calling one of the options ‘the right thing’ is telling. Specifically, it’s telling me that you’d be giving up more by staying in the States, by being silent, than you would by speaking up.”

And just like that, all the work she’d spent putting her heart back together, every hour she’d taken to meticulously fit the pieces back in the right spots - it’s all for naught. 

Because her heart just shatters again.

“I know,” she says, her voice cracking on the last word.

He pulls her toward him again, this time touching his lips softly to hers. Satine tastes tears, and she realizes they are Ben’s.

This, of course, brings tears to her own eyes, and she grabs Ben’s hand, pulling him back inside the tiny hotel room, shutting the doors to the balcony and closing the curtains.

She stumbles back into him, and his arms twist around her, pinning her own arms against his chest. He’s whispering to her, telling her how absolutely extraordinary he thinks she is, and she doesn’t feel trapped or claustrophobic. 

She just feels safe.

“Ben,” she whispers.

He pulls back for a moment, watching her.

“It wasn’t the position,” she realizes. At his confused expression, she elaborates. “Back when I used our safe word, it wasn’t because of the position. It was because you weren’t talking. I couldn’t hear your voice.”

She reaches up to wipe tears away from his cheeks.

“I told you I like knowing it’s you. Well, it turns out I need to know it’s you.”

He just leans back in to kiss her again, his lips absolutely everywhere - her jaw, her forehead, her collarbone.

“Of course we figure this out when we have one night left together,” he manages to groan out, his lips still against her skin.

“Should we test the hypothesis?” Satine asks. “One last thought experiment for old time’s sake?”

And she reaches up to loosen his tie.

He pulls back slightly, slowing down, as she reaches forward. She sets the tie to the side then moves on to his suit coat, placing it on the back of the chair by the desk. Then she rests her hands over his pectorals; a beat later, she slides them down to the buttons on his vest, taking her time with each one she undoes.

The vest she sets on top of the suit jacket, and then his belt is next, though that she drops to the floor. Ben watches her all the while, hands trembling, as she begins to pull his dress shirt from his trousers. She is slow, steady with these buttons, too, and Ben shrugs out of the shirt, tossing it to the side.

He removes her blazer, setting it over his clothes, and begins to work on her blouse from the top-down. She starts at the bottom and meets him in the middle, and he catches her hands there, moving them aside to press a kiss to the skin just below her brassiere. Her belt is next, and then Ben is unzipping her slacks. Those also end up neatly against the growing pile of clothes set to the side.

Ben scoops her up, and it’s two short steps to the bed. He lowers her down, making sure her head rests on the pillows, that the duvet and sheets are out of the way. Then he climbs up beside her, bracing himself over her torso on one forearm, his other hand snaking beneath her head to pull her to him.

And then he begins to speak.

Between kisses, he tells her about the first time he saw her, the first time he knew she was it for him, the first time they’d made love and what it was like for him. He trails his mouth down her skin, leaving echoes of words along with the ghost of his lips. By the time he reaches her hips, she’s so, so ready for him.

She nods, and he pulls down her undergarment, placing it to the side.

Ben hooks his arms beneath her legs, curling them around so that his hands can keep her open for him, and he dives into her, his tongue and words magic. He licks her clit, working her, speaking against her.

She arches into him and moans.

“Ben,” she whispers.

Her hand is reaching for him, and he sees, moving his own up to grab her fingers, still speaking to her as he does so.

She’s close, and he knows it. But instead of helping her to the edge, he pulls her away from it, moving his lips to the inside of her thighs.

Satine quivers. “Please,” she says.

So he drags his teeth lightly over her clit, and it is enough.

She jerks beneath him, arching up, whining as everything explodes, and he pulls her roughly against him, helping her ride his tongue, prolonging her ecstasy. When she’s finally able to see straight again, she pulls him up to her. “Condom?” she asks.

He’s still wearing trousers, so he digs in his back pocket. Satine unzips his fly and pushes the fabric down, and he wriggles out of the slacks and boxers. Together they put the condom on, and Ben returns to hover over her.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

She nods. “I’m ready.”

He pushes forward, coming home.

Before moving again, he watches her face. “Still good?”

“More than.”

So he settles against her, still bracing himself with one forearm. He speaks lowly to her; he begins to tell her everything he’s catalogued about her body.

And then he begins to move.

Still murmuring, he thrusts in, pulls back, checking her eyes for any indication she is uncomfortable.

But she’s not, and she just nods, encouraging him onward.

His free hand moves to her clit, and Satine’s breath hitches.

“Like that?” Ben asks, and he repeats the movement, with similar results. 

Satine bites her lip and nods.

Ben smiles. “I like the sound of your voice, too, you know,” he tells her, still thrusting.

She groans. “Incorrigible man.”

He smiles. “Incredible woman.”

She hooks one leg around his hip, pressing into his lower back. “What do you need?” she whispers.

“I’m close,” he grunts out. “I don’t need anything else. Just this. Just you.”

Satine frames his face in her hands and pulls him down to capture his lips.

Then he says, his voice breaking, “I’m - ”

And she knows he’s reached climax by the way his thrusts change, by the way his arms shake as they struggle to hold him up. He groans, and then his thrusts become more shallow.

He pulls her to him and rolls over, spent, still inside her, his uneven breathing matching hers.

“That was the first time,” he says weakly, “that we both - ”

Satine nods, still in awe: they hadn’t climaxed together since they were both eighteen.

He kisses her, and Satine tries to ignore the wetness his tears have left on her collarbone.

“Just a moment,” Ben says against her lips, and then he pulls back, pulls away, to move to the washroom. Satine hears running water, and she closes her eyes. Then the mattress sinks again, and Ben is gently spreading her legs to press a warm washcloth between them. She keeps her eyes closed as he tends to her, trying to keep her emotions in check.

He’s gone again a beat later, only to return and slip back in beside her, pulling her close, pulling the duvet over their skin.

“I wish we had more time,” she whispers. “I have so much more to learn about you. About myself, too.”

“It was perfect,” Ben says. He kisses her, soothes her. “Hush.”

Satine opens her eyes.

She takes in the wonderful, kind man before her. The man who taught her to fight when pacificism was all she’d ever known. The man who was born a fighter but left the fight behind because she’d asked him to. The man who had honored her deepest request even though it had gone against every fiber of his being and his training.

The man who loves her.

“I love you,” Satine says.

He freezes, even his eyes unblinking. Then, after several moments, he whispers, “What?” as though he can hardly believe it.

She gives him a bittersweet smile. “I love you,” she repeats, this time more firmly. “My heart might be broken beyond my capacity to repair, but it’s time you know it's yours, for better or for worse. Especially because you’ll be taking it with you when we part tomorrow.”

Satine wipes the tears that build at the corners of his eyes.

“Please don’t cry, Ben,” she murmurs. “We’ll see each other again. I know we will.”

He swallows. “Promise me.”

“I promise. I swear.”

Ben nods. “Say it again?”

And there’s no doubt what he is referring to.

Satine smiles, genuinely this time. “I love you, Ben Kenobi.”

And then she pulls him toward her so he can rest his head upon her chest.

He falls asleep there, resting against her, exhausted and sated. But Satine can’t sleep, not when they’ll part tomorrow faced with another separation of undetermined length.

So, instead, she studies him by the light of the moon, cataloguing his skin as he did hers: the mole he’d always had above one eyebrow, the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, the different shades of color in his beard, the patterns of freckles down his arms that remind her of galaxies.

She’d needed to cross galaxies to find him again, and in the end, she’d fallen just short.

What she wouldn’t give for the two of them to no longer be star-crossed.

I’d quite literally burn the stars to the ground, she thinks.

And then -

Satine opens her eyes.

“Ben,” she whispers gently.

He stirs against her in the dark.

“Hmm?”

“I have an idea.”

When his eyes open, she’s smiling.

[sixhours]

Harborage

Rating: PG Word count: 2.1k

Notes: Post-ep one-shot for Irrisistible.

Originally posted at ao3 01/02/2017

~*~

When the ties are loosened and the gag removed, she doesn’t know what to do. Adrenaline tells her to fight or run, but her partner is holding her by the arms, looking at her with wide-eyed concern.

“Scully?”

“I’m fine,” she says automatically, but there’s a traitorous tremor in her voice. His finger comes up under her chin, tipping her face toward his, and she has the insane thought that he’s going to try to kiss her. She jerks away.

“I said I’m fine,” she whispers, but the words waver, and her chin trembles. Her whole body is shaking. He pulls her into his arms before anyone else can see, offering shelter from her own storm.

“It’s alright. It’s alright,” he murmurs, the words brushing the fine hair at her temple. She lets him pull her closer, wraps her arms around him until she can muster the strength to push him away.

“Thank you,” she sniffs, unable to meet his eye.

He gently takes her wrists, examining the damage. Chafing, but nothing deep. He takes her hand in his—warm and solid, she has a fleeting memory of walking with her father as a little girl—and leads her outside where an ambulance is waiting.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, gesturing for her to sit on the tailgate as he goes to look for Bocks. She hates how her heart begins to pound when he ducks out of sight and holds tight to the edge of her seat to stop from running after him like a lost child.

A paramedic approaches from behind and Scully starts, whirling around and reaching for her gun in one fluid motion. Mulder is suddenly by her side, holding her shoulders until she’s steady on her feet.

“Whoa,” the paramedic says, holding up her hands in mock surrender.

Scully flushes with shame when she realizes her error. “I thought you were…” she swallows hard in an effort to hold back tears. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“Good thing you weren’t carrying or we’d need another medic,” Mulder says mildly. His hand on her back is reassuring; he won’t leave her side again.

The woman��is quick, applying salve to Scully’s chafed wrists, looking at her bruises with a critical eye. “These cuts are superficial, but I’d recommend a trip to the hospital to be—“

“No,” Scully cuts her off. “It’s a few bruises. I can take care of it.”

The paramedic looks at Mulder as if to ask for help, but he shrugs. “You heard her.”

She signs the medical waiver, then follows Mulder to the warmth of the rental car, tucking herself into the safety of the passenger’s seat. She breathes a sigh of relief as he closes the door, shrouding them from the chaos of the crime scene.

“I have a room at a motel near the airport. I’ll get us on the first flight out.”

She’s grateful when he doesn’t press her for information, just puts the car in gear and drives. She closes her eyes, forcing herself to relax each muscle in turn to take her mind off the burning sensation at her wrists, the taste of dirty cloth on the back of her tongue.

At the motel, Mulder grabs two bags from the trunk, one of which she recognizes as her carryon.

“Found this in your car, figured you might want it,” he says, handing her the bag. She takes it, surprised at the way her throat tightens at the gesture.

Mulder is already heading for the office. “I’ll get a second room—“

“No!” she says, her voice echoing too loudly in the near-empty parking lot. “No, I’d…rather not be alone.”

Mulder blinks, hesitating at the curb. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she says. “If it’s OK with you…I probably won’t be able to sleep, anyway. I’ll take a chair.”

“That’s not necessary, Scully. The bed’s big enough for two…if you promise you won’t take advantage of me.”

Her lips curl at the edges. “I promise.”

The motel room boasts the same drab furnishings and dingy carpet as any other, but to Scully, it feels like a homecoming. Three hours ago, she thought the last thing she’d see was the musty floor of a closet. This room is warm and bright and safe, her partner’s tall frame filling the doorway like a barricade.

Mulder locks and chains the door, walking around her to toss his jacket and bag in a chair. Only in the light does she notice the circles under his eyes, his rumpled dress shirt with the rolled-up sleeves, the deepening five-o’clock shadow across his cheeks.

“I’m going to shower,” she says, throwing off her heavy coat, suddenly desperate to get clean.

“Go for it,” Mulder says. “Are you hungry? I’m going to book our flight and get something to eat.”

The thought of food turns her stomach, but she nods. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she says, gathering fresh clothes from her recovered luggage.

When the bathroom door is closed and locked, she strips and kicks her ripped, bloodied clothing into the corner. The water is blessedly hot, and soon the room is filled with steam. She opens the body wash, but quickly closes it again. The floral scent makes her dizzy, conjuring images of cold baths and severed fingers. She grabs the plain white soap instead, scrubbing at her skin until it glows an angry red, until the water stings every inch of her body.

When it’s time to wash her hair, she finds herself staring at the tiny bottle of shampoo with dread. The sensation of her own fingers scraping at her scalp makes her heart thump hard against her ribs.

She turns off the water when her skin is raw and her muscles feel like softened clay. Her reflection is a ruddy smear in the mirror, begging to be examined for traces of evidence. There are bruises on her torso, arms, and legs. Her hair hangs limp and dark around her face.

The steam slowly dissipates as the air cools, until goosebumps dance across her skin, until she no longer recognizes the woman in front of her. She traces the scab on her chin with one finger, watches as the woman in the mirror does the same.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Scully? Pizza’s here.”

“Be right out,” she calls, forcing her gaze away from her unfamiliar self. She dresses in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, twisting her wet hair into a ponytail before opening the door. The smell of peppers and onions makes her mouth water; the shower has worked some small magic, at least.

“Got your favorite,” he says from across the room, a case file in one hand and a piece of pizza in the other. He’s sitting at the table wearing a clean gray t-shirt and jeans. “Hope you don’t mind, I started without you.”

“It’s fine,” she says, reaching for a napkin and a slice, taking a seat on the corner of the bed across from him. “I’m starving.”

They eat in silence. She catches him sneaking glances when he thinks she’s not looking, probably assessing her condition, perhaps thinking he should have insisted they go to the hospital. Eventually she clears her throat, tired of pretending to ignore him.

“How did you know where to find me?”

Mulder hesitates. “Pfaster’s mother had an old property…the house used to belong to her, was willed to one of his sisters. We traced the car back to her and I followed a hunch.”

A hunch, she thinks, stomach churning. It should be reassuring, but the relief in his eyes and the stubble at his jaw tells a longer, more complicated story.

As if reading her mind, he leans forward, touching her wrist. “It wasn’t as far out as it sounds. It would have seemed fitting to perform these acts of brutality in his mother’s space, as a kind of posthumous revenge. The profile was accurate. It was only a matter of time before we made the connection.”

Scully swallows hard, her mouth dry, the pizza threatening to come back up.

“Scully?”

“Hmm?” she looks up, realizes she’s been staring at her lap. “I’m sorry, I…I think I’m going to turn in.”

His brow furrows. “You haven’t finished your pizza.”

“I’m full,” she says, setting the half-eaten slice aside. “It’s been a long night.”

“Oh. Sure,” he says faintly.

She crawls to the head of the bed and slides under the covers, facing away from him, willing her stomach to settle.

“I’m going to start on the report,” Mulder says after a pause. “I’ll, uh, try not to keep you up.”

“It’s fine,” she lies. “I just need to rest.”

She doesn’t expect to sleep, so she’s surprised when her eyes close without her consent, when her body grows heavy after only a few minutes. She slips down into the dream, grasping at consciousness with frantic hands before finally sinking beyond its reach.

His cold hands in her hair, his breath in her ear, hissing like a snake. She struggles against invisible bonds as he pushes her under the water and holds her there. She tries to scream but everything is muted. His demonic face hovers over hers, twisted and deformed by the ripples on the surface.

There’s no way out, girly girl.

She gasps awake to Mulder shaking her by the shoulder.

“Scully, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

He’s propped up in bed next to her, legs stretched out on top of the covers. The television is on mute, casting a faint, flickering glow in the dark. She can feel the warmth of him through the blanket, has to stop herself from curling toward it like a paper touched by flame.

“Just a dream,” he repeats.

She jerks her head in a nod, blinking back tears. “I was back at the house. He was holding me under, I couldn’t breathe…“ she shudders, pulling the blanket more tightly around herself.

Mulder reaches over, pushes a strand of hair from her forehead in a gesture that’s both comforting and too intimate. “Wanna talk about it?”

Something about his presence in the low light reminds her of a confessional, and the words come tumbling out before she can stop them.

“I was tied up in a closet…it felt like hours. I know what to do in these situations, it’s what we’ve trained for, but I panicked. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe…I would have pleaded for my life if I thought it would help—” she stops, taking a deep breath, holding it for a moment to ground herself until she can go on.

“I couldn’t even look at him. I’ve been afraid, of course, it’s part of the job, but…I’ve never been in a situation where I couldn’t face that fear. I couldn’t face him.”

“But you did,” Mulder says, grazing her chin with a fingertip. “You could have stayed in D.C. No one would have blamed you if you had, but you came back. You fought him off, Scully. You lived.”

He pauses before continuing, shifting his gaze to his lap. “I just wish you’d told me. I know you’re used to hiding it for the boys’ club, but I’m not them. I mean, I am,” he says, frowning. “But I’m your partner first, and I want you to—need you—to be honest with me.”

“I didn’t want you to have to protect me,” she says thickly.

He chuckles. “That’s my job, Scully. God knows you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. Let me return the favor once in a while.”

She sniffs and nods, his fingers tracing a circle on her lower back in silent forgiveness.

“Your strength isn’t measured by your ability to face everything alone,” he murmurs. “If anyone taught me that, it’s you.”

There’s a long silence as he pulls his hand away, and she thinks about the other fears she has yet to confront. He shifts on the bed, long legs stretching as he settles back against the headboard. There’s the rustle of cellophane, the sound of a sunflower seed cracking between his teeth.

“Thank you,” she says after a moment. “I…feel better.”

He gives her a sidelong glance. “Would you tell me if you didn’t?”

His tone is light, but the question weighs on her conscience.

“I would,” she answers truthfully. She reaches for his hand, squeezing it. “I would, Mulder.”

He bites his lip and nods. In the dim light, his profile is softened, and she resists the urge to reach out and ruffle the boyish tuft of hair at his brow. “I know. Get some rest, Scully.”

She turns over, aware of the dip in the mattress where his weight subtly pulls her closer, and she lets it. There’s the sound of her partner’s steady breathing at her back, a comforting lilt.

This time, she does not dream.

[nice-bright-colors]

Day One: Getting Here

Well, all I’m going to say is that the day is over. That, and I travel much better when I’m alone.

Michigan roads are either under construction, or just plain shitty. Plus everywhere was crazy busy. The airport, the car rental, the traffic.

Oh yeah, this is Michigan University’s Homecoming weekend. There are a metric fuck ton of events planned in Ann Arbor.

Hence all the above mentioned complaints. In addition to the reality of Chevy Malibu’s and the Toyota Camry I chose from the President’s Circle at Hertz.

Tomorrow should be interesting. Thankfully, I only have to drive into East Lansing, then later on the northern burbs.

I’m already tired of this.

Do good things for other people, and good things will come back to me.

[ivynest]

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IVY Nest Apartments, The Place Brings you Home Our accommodation and rental solutions company Ivy Nest Apartments was established in 2019 by Tamim Akhtar. A humongous amount of worry for students and working professionals having to change their cities for their respective reasons were the scarcity of a place to stay. Migrating youths often face difficulties and judgements while relocating. The newcomers, already overwhelmed with a completely new place to be in do not even get peace at home. With the mindset of solving this very problem Ivy Nest Apartments started the journey to ensure that they get a place where they feel at home though far away from home. Students and working professionals today are living a life of dynamicity, wanting to live like nomads where they can explore and experience as much as they can. The never ending and ever growing curiosity of knowing the world is the energy booster for their minds and activities Ivy Nest encourages that very zeal and creates the perfect surrounding for the nomadic culture and living in the moment mindset. To streamline a confused set up of stay, one needs to understand the demands of the 21st century homecomers, where they get freedom of being themselves, being with someone they wish to be with, in or out of wedlock. Where freedom will definitely come with responsibilities and but not the unnecessary hassles and responsibilities of basic living amenities. At Ivy Nest we take care of those with ease. Ivy Nest is here to bring a revolutionary thought process where one can rent without the hassles and expenses of rental apartments and on the other hand the restrictions of pg near amity university kolkata and hostels. At Ivy Nest we offer a range of staying options like long and short time stays, on sharing or independent basis and so on. We are also keen on giving options to the customers on various segments which is good for people who are particular about the ambience and aesthetics. We can confidently say that we are here bringing a new one stop solution for the rental industry. We also work on a very balanced way of non-variable monthly payment plans , which is great for variety of plans. Talking about the modern societal changes we also are looking at a big global working method revolution as well. The remote working concept has given the believers of nomadic culture much relief. At pg near st xavier's university kolkata with our one of a kind co-working, co-living Workcations system we add comfort and amenity management to this remote working culture. With great working setup and surrounding of like minded professionals Ivy Nest will only increase more productivity and peace in the minds of the customers. Precisely, we can say that this is a new kind of community homing that is on its way to flourish soon, countrywide.

[hollowsart]

Weird girl Mary Jane Watson who is the school's sports mascot actor. She gets nervous and shy around Peter and tries hard to talk to him, but she is too scared to take off the costume to speak to him normally. Peter is very confused why the mascot keeps trying to talk to him occasionally. It's very awkward for everyone. She is trying her best. She is trying so hard cuz she really likes him.

MJ has always been the weirdest girl in school. Usually she keeps to herself and is always seen doing weird and crazy things. Things that both the boys and girls of the school find odd. She isn't necessarily seen as the most attractive girl at school, she hangs around the theater room outside looking as though she wishes she could join the class some year.

Homecoming/Prom is when she finally has a chance to properly speak with Peter for once. Outside of the costume and looking her best. She went alone and he got stood up by his supposed date, it was a cruel joke on him. They spoke together on the back wall, sitting in some chairs alone together. it was awkward, but different from all the other times they spoke together when she was wearing the mascot suit. The two become good friends after that night.

MJ frequents the Coffee Bean and various stores that are rather unconventional. ie comic book stores, movie rentals, etc. Her life growing up obviously wasn't the best, but Peter was the best thing to happen to her since she was accepted as the role of the school's mascot

imagine she does eventually get to join the theater class and gets pretty good at it. gets to be a part of some school plays. and eventually even gets to become an actress..... who plays the costumed roles of monsters and she couldn't be happier about it.

[goeliteevents]

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[gumjester]

homecoming is so funny like they had dumb activities at the actual dance and i stayed for 5 minutes and then dipped to get mexican w a separate group of friends from the friends i went to get mexican with BEFORE the dance... mostly just an excuse to look fancy 👍🏽 also idk if nobody actually cares abt who's crowned king/queen or if i was just a part of the circle of people who Didn't Care but i'm inclined to say that nobody cared bc i literally never heard any discussion about it and like half the school doesn't even bother to vote 💀 highlight is that the football game had a based halftime show where band performed longer than normal and the dance team and cheerleaders both had showcases!! in football's case it's Supposed To Be the first home game of the season that takes place AFTER the first away game and my school always scheduled it against the Known Worst Schools in the district so we'd win 😭 but wikipedia has a page on it if u want to look at that, i wouldn't say that its current present-day section is very accurate (to my single experience LOL) but origins probably is and it WAS originally to welcome back alumni/other former members so u could do some crazy things w the eah parents visiting or whatever

i love and appreciate these field notes greatly this made me giggle a lot!!!!!!! you know for some reason it never once occurred to me to just...... look at the wikipedia page for homecoming..... but at the same time i feel like just that on its own would have neglected the richness of the event, the humanity, trials, and profound mediocrity that i have come to understand are crucial to homecoming itself!!!!!!

this does now present me with an entertaining choice.. do i stay true to the [now apparently vastly unrealistic] special and doll up eah:rir's thronecoming to epic proportions, have everyone actually want to be there and have virtually any of it mean anything to them, OR do i ground it. make it a naturalistic, decent thing that everyone shows up for because they sort of have to and theres not anything else to do in the evenings. i fear for the plot i will have to keep it as showy and vital as in the cartoon, but GOD wouldnt it be funny if the thronecoming dance is just a bunch of kids lowkey sweating through their rental finery in a dark, hot room with a snack bar full of premade sandwiches. THE THINGS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN.......

[omarandjohnny]

Getting to know tag!

Tagged by @tm-trx <3333333333333333333333333333333

3 ships:

Roz/Dan, Night Court- very first ship from before I even knew what shipping was)

Lestat/Louis, IWTV '94- when the movie hit the rental shelves I very predictably experienced my gay awakening. The show version has been such a joy- I wish 13 year old me could've gotten the show version first, truly.

Omar/Johnny, My Beautiful Laundrette- Saw snippets of the film in the documentary adaptation of Vito Russo's The Celluloid Closet (got a vhs copy of it for 50 cents, Blockbuster clearance bin my late 90s beloved) but I didn't get to see the movie in full until I snagged a copy of it from my community college's library. I was already a fan of Hanif Kureishi's writing thanks to The Buddha of Suburbia, so his trademark dry humor in the screenplay felt like a homecoming. It will always come back to Omar and Johnny, it's been that way for me for over twenty years now, and I doubt that'll ever change.

First ever ship: Roz/Dan- tho if we're being really real about this, I was shipping me and Davy Jones back when I was 6 (we were both short, had shaggy bowlcuts, and funny smiles so OF COURSE we needed to get married, yes?)

Last song: Every Day/Stevie Nicks

Currently reading: nothing (brain fog)

Currently watching: Only Friends, Naughty Babe, Dangerous Romance, and that's it for currently airing stuff right now.

Currently consuming: As soon as I'm done with this I'm gonna go grab my bag of Starburst All Pink 😊

Currently craving: ^^^

[limoserviceseo]

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[timbervalleyfarmbarnrental]

Timber Valley Farm Barn Rental Tour

A Heartwarming Homecoming at Timber Valley Farm Barn Rental

Today, we were thrilled to welcome the Eby family back to Timber Valley Farm, where Mrs. Eby spent her childhood years. We took them on a nostalgic tour of the property, highlighting the enchanting features of our Barn Rental.

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