#I figure the sooner I get the hell on the other side of Montana the better

[hiddenbysuccubi]

"Oh sure it's easy for you you do this all the time haha" "You're always confident! You see an opportunity and you travel" "Where are you now? You left yet?" I'm leaving tomorrow night and I'm freaking out Do it scared! That's me! King of doing shit alone and scared!

[thecassadilla]

In Search of the Stars

Word Count: 1,352/AO3

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Summary: Rapunzel and Eugene set off in search of the stars, but they find themselves talking more about the sky’s other inhabitants.

Author’s Note: Hi! My name is Cass (I know, I know) and this is my contribution for Day 1 of New Dream Appreciation Week - Sun and Moon! Fair warning, I (dumbly) haven’t watched seasons 2 and 3 of Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, so while I have the gist of what happens, I haven’t actually seen it. Most of my contributions will be based on the movie or a Modern!AU. This is a Modern!AU. It’s more of a drabble than an actual fic. I hope you like it!

It was a chilly evening in September - a night they had been planning for weeks. Bundled up in sweaters and blankets in tow, they’d set off in search of the stars. And it was hard to disagree that lying in the middle of a field in Montana was one of the best decisions they’d ever made. 

They were clouded by darkness; the only light source was from the illumination of the moon, glowing above them. For the longest time, they were silent; appreciating the beauty of the night sky. The only noises that could be heard were their contented sighs, and the ambient sound of crickets chirping in the distance. They laid side by side, shoulders touching and hands entangled together. 

“Eugene?” Rapunzel finally whispered, shifting onto her side so she could look at him.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response.

“This was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had.”

“I agree,” he chuckled, turning towards her. “We should’ve done this sooner.”

“The sky is just so pretty. Look at the all stars! And it’s so easy to see the constellations.”

“I wish the sky looked like this at home,” he added.

“Me too,” she agreed. “I wish we could just look out the window and see this all the time.”

“I guess that’s the consequence of living in a city. Light pollution.” 

Unfazed by what he just said, she continued to gush about the sky. “And isn’t the moon so amazing?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah it is. You know, when I was a kid, I thought it was made of cheese.”

“Really?” She giggled, springing up. 

“Well, look at it,” he said pointing at it. Her eyes eagerly followed his finger. “It’s white and it has craters in it - it kind of looks like it could be a wheel of swiss cheese.”

She nodded. “I can see it now that you say that. When I was a kid, I used to talk to the man in the moon.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I always hoped that one day he would answer,” she replied sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Well it must’ve been hard for him to hear you - the moon is like a billion miles away, after all.”

She playfully shoved his shoulder and he laughed in response. “Actually, it’s only 238,900 miles away,” she responded smugly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

He threw his hands up in surrender. “I forgot I was talking to an astronomy expert.”

“I’m not an expert,” she grinned. “I just read a lot of books about astronomy as a kid. And an adult.”

“The only thing I read as a kid were comic books. Not very educational. Well, I guess there was one book I liked to read, but it was fiction, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

She laid back down and rested her head on his shoulder. “I used to have a copy of Goodnight Moon. So I guess I just figured if I was saying goodnight to the moon, it was for a reason.”

“I didn’t have that book, but one of my favorite things to do when I was a kid was sneak out on summer nights and just look up at the sky - kind of like what we’re doing now.”

“I wish I knew you when you were a kid,” she murmured, snuggling closer to him. “I think we would’ve gotten along.”

“I could’ve used a friend like you, but I was a much different person then.”

“You know what always made me sad?”

“What?”

“That we can’t just look up at the sun.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sure the sun is equally as beautiful as the moon, but we can’t look directly at it. If we look directly at the sun, it hurts our eyes and makes it so we can’t see - which is ironic, because we need light to see in the first place.”

“Huh, I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s always there, but we never actually look for it, you know? Like, imagine if the sun was as appreciated as the moon and the stars - if we could just lay around looking at it and appreciating its beauty.”

“I suppose that would be called sunbathing,” he quipped.

“Eugene,” she smirked.

“I’m teasing,” he chuckled. “But you’re right. No one sits around talking about going sun-gazing.”

She sighed. “Because it’s impossible. Unless there’s an eclipse or something, it seems like no one pays attention to everything the sun does. Could you imagine living life without the sun?”

“You’ve got me there, babe. I guess it would be dark all the time?”

“Dark. And cold. We wouldn’t have any plants, which means that we wouldn’t have any food.”

“So the sun is the ultimate source of life.”

“Exactly! We wouldn’t be alive without the sun.”

“So, tell me then, what’s the deal with the moon? Nighttime light source?”

“Well, for one, it controls the ocean’s tides. But the moon helps to stabilize the earth’s rotation; without it, we wouldn’t have seasons or day and night.”

He smirked, impressed by her knowledge. “And here I was thinking it was a big, pointless ball of cheese. How do you remember all this stuff?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I retain a lot of pointless information.”

“Hey now, I wouldn’t call that pointless information. You know a hell of a lot more than I do,” he said, squeezing her hand.

She gave him a small smile and they laid quietly for a few moments.

“You know what I just realized?” He wondered aloud, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“You said you were sad because we couldn’t just look up at the sun like how we look at the moon. But, I may have thought of a loophole.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sunglasses?”

He laughed. “No, no. We can’t look directly at the sun, but we can watch it rise and set.” 

“Eugene! You’re a genius!”

“I wouldn’t call myself a genius,” he chuckled. “But, well, they can be a little overlooked. Who wants to wake up early just to watch the sunrise when you can watch it any day? Who wants to stop what they’re doing just to watch it set, you know? But then we get busy or lazy or forgetful, and the beautiful thing just...slips away.”

“You are quite the philosopher, Eugene Fitzherbert,” she grinned. “I didn’t even think about the sun rising or setting, which literally proves your entire point.”

“You flatter me too much, sunshine,” he chuckled. 

“It’s true though! I wonder if you were a philosopher and I was an astronomer in another life,” she giggled.

“That would explain an awful lot about us then, huh?”

She nodded, shivering slightly. “Definitely.”

“You getting cold?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But I’m not ready to leave yet.”

“Not ready to say ‘goodnight’ to the moon?”

“Nope,” she smiled, cuddling closer to him.

“Well, if we get back to the hotel at a reasonable hour, maybe we can get up early enough to say ‘good morning’ to the sun,” he pointed out.

She narrowed her eyes, smirking. “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?” He asked, feigning innocence.

“Try to entice me with something you know I’ll want to do in order to get me away from something else that I’m enjoying,” she said. “Because you worry that I’ll overdo it and not speak up if I’m uncomfortable because I just want to keep doing the thing that I like.” 

“Rapunzel, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shrugged.

“Mhmm, I’m onto you” she mused, a smirk still plastered across her face. “I also know that you value your sleep and hate waking up early for anything.”

He chuckled. “You got me there. But, I did say that the sunrise gets overlooked because no one wants to wake up just to watch it - including myself. But one day won’t kill me, right?”

“Nope,” she smiled, shifting slightly. “Race you to the car?”

“You’re on!” He yelled, scrambling to his feet.

[lemonlushff-iy]

Summary: Kagome comes home to Montana from her new life in California…only to be greeted with hostility and the demons of her past. Some mistakes can never be forgiven. She just hopes that maybe this one can.

Story inspired by Clearwillow​’s “New Moon Ride”, written with permission and for the March 14, 2020 White Day celebration…and slowly uploaded much sooner…

Read parts 1-6 here

One Last Ride - Part Seven

"Hey kid," Inuyasha grinned, grabbing Souta around the shoulders and mussing up his hair.

"Aw hell, do you have to do that," Souta groaned, struggling to get free and causing Inuyasha to let out a deep, full-bodied laugh.

"A'course I do," he grinned cheekily, and Souta sighed, figuring there was no point in fighting the much older and stronger man. When Inuyasha let him go, he watched the young man run his fingers through his black locks, trying to fix his hair at least a little.

"You smell like shit," Souta griped, and Inuyasha smacked lightly upside the head.

"Watch your language - you're too young ta start saying that shit."

"Yeah? And what about you?"

"I'm older, wiser, and my Ma ain't in the house over there," he smirked, tilting his head to the side.

"Rub it in," Souta grumbled, leading Inuyasha over to their truck, and he chuckled again as he hopped into the passenger side, letting Souta drive. The truck rumbled to life and Souta rolled down the windows, cranking up the country music in the car so it blared out the windows.

"Not too loud," Inuyasha chided, folding his ears flat as he turned the radio down a little, and Souta grinned sheepishly at him as he put the car in drive.

"Sorry," he apologized as they headed down the Higurashis' long and winding driveway towards the main road.

"It's fine Squirt," Inuyasha smirked, and Souta shot him a withering look.

"When are you gonna stop calling me that?"

"When you're taller."

"That's what you always say."

"That's 'cause I'll do it when you're taller."

"When is that exactly? What's tall enough for you? Kagome already thinks I'm almost as tall as you now."

Inuyasha's smile faded a little as he thought about what Souta had said. He had always been a small, little kid. The baby...but...he really wasn't a baby anymore, was he?

Souta didn't climb up trees and get too scared to come back down from them, needing him to come and get him. He didn't race over to him to show him the lastest trading card he got at school or the newest hot wheel he had received for a good grade.

He was eighteen now. A man by most standards...and he was almost as tall as he was now.

When the hell had that happened? When the hell had Souta grown up?

He shook his head and sighed before admitting, "yeah...I guess you are now, huh? You aren't a kid anymore are ya?"

"Getting sappy?" Souta teased.

"Nah. Just...feelin' old."

"Well…"

"Hey!"

"You started it!" Souta defended, and Inuyasha barked out a laugh, his eyes twinkling.

"Yeah...I did…Hey...listen kid," he began, figuring now was as good a time as any to bring up tomorrow. "Kagome told me that you want me ta come ta graduation tomorrow?"

Souta glanced nervously at him, suddenly apprehensive.

"I would," he confirmed warily, "Is...that ok? Since Kagome is coming too?"

"Yeah," he breathed out in a loud puff. "Kagome and I talked about it a little. We both love you, and want to be there for your big day. We're adults now...we can put the past behind us. So if you want me too—"

"—Of course I want you to!" Souta immediately interrupted. "I was just too nervous to ask you about it. I thought…"

"Yeah. I know. But you thought wrong."

"Do you wanna come with us? We were gonna go down in Kagome's rental."

Inuyasha whistled long and low at that.

"Might need to. Kagome doesn’t know how to drive that thing!"

"You shouldn't do that without a spotter," Inuyasha chided as Kikyo stood on the balls of her feet on the top rung of the ladder, trying to hang a banner.

After Souta had dropped Inuyasha off at his family's ranch, he had worked there for a few more hours helping with the livestock before showering and taking the sedan into town. Once there, he only had a few minutes to spare to drop it off at Dave's Auto Service before he needed to be at the high school auditorium to help set up for graduation.

Kikyo had taken the lead this year for preparations, and when they had spoken about it in passing, she had casually mentioned that they were down a few hands. One teacher, Jackson Humphrey, was out with a horrible stomach bug, and Erica Welch was out on maternity leave.

The extra set of hands was greatly appreciated, and his strength and speed would easily make up for the missing help.

"Probably not," she agreed, "but I didn't want to bother anyone."

"Please. Bother," he chuckled, coming to take hold of the ladder as she continued to struggle to mount the banner. "I wouldn't want you ta fall and break your neck."

"And if I did? Would you come visit me in the hospital?"

"I dunno...it's a hell of a drive. If you wanted to get me alone, there are much easier ways of going about it," he flirted, and her airy giggle filled the auditorium.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like buying me a drink at the Rusty Bucket tonight," he grinned back.

"Mmm...that does sound easier," she grinned back, her red lips perfectly framing her white teeth.

He couldn't help but notice how lovely she looked today. Her stick straight, waist length, black hair had been tied up to keep her it from falling into her eyes as she worked. She wore a white t-shirt and a red pair of shorts with a girly bow in the front. He didn't know how, but they showed off her shapely legs in a way he had been ashamed to say he had paused to admire a few too many times today. She was cute, and easy going, and he could tell that she was ready for a break from teaching for a few months.

Inuyasha smiled as she finally attached the banner to the wall and let out a small sound of victory before climbing down a few rungs to get the other corner.

If he were being honest with himself, Kikyo had always been lovely...going back as far as middle school. She had never really dated around however, which is why it was such a surprise when she had asked him if he would like to get coffee a few weeks back, after church.

Honestly, he thought she didn't think that much of him one way or another. She might have been a little flirty back in the day but he was so taken by Kagome that he didn't really notice. He did vaguely remember a time when he thought she had tried to kiss him when they were working on a group project for science...but she had just rolled her eyes and told him that she was getting an eyelash off of his face. He had been embarrassed and had stammered out some sort of apology and that had been the extent of her “interest” in him.

It was cute, really, when she asked him out all these years later. Her cheeks had turned bright red as she pulled him off to the side and asked him if he had any plans after, or if he was going to go back to the ranch. He said he didn't and he'd love to go for coffee. That had been their first "date", their second being a lunch at Ottwell's, which was when she had mentioned needing help.

Though it wasn't really labeled as such...tonight could be seen as their third date.

He was a little nervous and excited for it. He still felt awkward on dates when he thought of them as such. He had spent his youth with Kagome, so dating had been a challenge after they had broken up.

Sure he had...and he had been to the rodeo before at this point...ridden a filly, if you will...but it hadn't been easy and he'd been damn insecure about the whole thing. He hadn't known where to place limbs and heads had smacked into each other as he fumbled, trying to figure out what to do...that first time had been an...experience, to say the least.

It had also been a challenge feeling like he could finally date again without having this twisted voice in the back of his head whispering that he was betraying Kagome.

She had fucking left him damnit! He deserved to move on, and he sure as hell wasn't betraying anyone. If anything, Kagome should feel like she was betraying him!

That was the problem with being a dog demon though.

The unshakable sense of loyalty that was ingrained into him on an instinctual level.

"Two down...two to go," Kikyo cheered as she began climbing down. When her waist was eye level, he wrapped his arms around her, plucking her from the ladder and swinging her around.

She squealed in delight, holding onto his arms as her head tilted back. "Inuyasha!" she weakly protested, his name leaving her lips in a bubble of laughter. "Inuyasha, what do you think you're doing?"

He dropped her after a second and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her back against his chest.

"Nothing," he rumbled, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Just making sure ya don't hurt yourself."

"I don't think I'm at risk for that," she giggled, "I do think you're at risk for something, though."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Being kissed," she smiled, turning around in his arms. She nervously bit her lip before hesitantly tilting her head up and standing on the tips of her toes. He leaned his head closer, his heart nervously racing as she placed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

Their first kiss.

It was tentative and sweet and exploratory, and he was pretty sure he had her cherry red lipstick smeared on his lips, but he didn't care.

When she pulled slightly away from him, he rest his forehead to hers, a smile spreading across his face.

He moved away from her after a moment and she nervously bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes as her cheeks heated.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," she admitted nervously.

"I probably don't," he agreed. "Why don't you tell me?"

Her cheeks only somehow got redder before she whispered, "since middle school."

He felt like he had just been sucker punched in the gut.

"W-wai-what?" He stuttered, blinking hard.

"You really didn't know," she asked, blushing even harder. "Inuyasha, I've had a crush on you for years…"

It felt like his brain stopped functioning. How had he never known? How had never suspected?

Wait a second…

"You did try to kiss me in middle school!" He blurted out, the wheels in his head suddenly turning a mile a minute as he began to connect the dots of his past.

She nodded her head, averting her eyes to the side.

"Yeah. You and Kagome were fighting at the time. She wanted to go to the dance and you didn't, and you were complaining about it…"

"So I wasn't crazy!"

"No," she replied, looking away. "It...it wasn't my proudest moment. I never should have...but I just liked you so much but you didn't see me and…"

"Hey...it's ok," he reassured her as she began to spiral. "It's all in the past now. Kagome and I haven't been together for years. Don't worry about it," he soothed, and she nodded her head.It should bother him. He knew it should...and maybe it did bother a small piece of him...but this was in the past. They were no more than fourteen, and kids did stupid shit all the time. 

He wasn’t about to let the impulsive mistakes of a a girl who couldn’t even drive yet affect his view of the woman who stood before him now.

"Listen...why don't you let me get this banner up, and then why don't we get outta here? Sound good?"

"Yeah."

Inuyasha pushed his empty plate to the side, taking a sip of his beer as he waited for Kikyo to return from the bathroom. Their date had been going pretty well so far. The conversation had been flowing smoothly, and Kikyo was very interested in hearing about his life and learning more about him...and he felt the same way about her.

It had been years since he had seen her regularly, outside of church, of course, and it was kinda nice. Like catching up with a friend, almost.

But he knew that the point of a date wasn't to catch up. It was to see if you were compatible and if you wanted to explore a relationship with the other person.

So far, he had to admit that he wasn't completely opposed to the idea.

Kikyo was smart, loved children, and was sweet and understanding...not to mention very attractive.

He was curious to see where this would lead.

Kikyo slid back into their booth across from him, greeting him with sparkling eyes and a cherry red smile.

"So I was thinking," she began, drumming her fingertips excitedly on the table top. "We should play a drinking game."

Inuyasha arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms on the table top as he leaned forward, intrigued.

"Yeah?"

"Why not? It will be fun! Come on Yash!"

His spine stiffened at the name and his expression must have betrayed his feelings.

"I...Oh...Inuyasha, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it…" she apologized, looking down at her hands.

"It's fine," he internally grimaced. "Yeah. Sure. Let's play a game. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, this is a date," she began, pausing nervously to see if he would refute her assumption. When he didn't, she continued. "So...I was thinking we could play that drinking game in Game of Thrones. You know. Tyrion's game."

"Remind me of the rules," he grinned, placing his hands palm up on the table.

"I make a statement I think is true about you. If I'm right, you drink and I get to make another statement. If I'm wrong, I drink and you have to ask me a question," she explained, placing her hands into his.

"Sounds dangerous," he purred, his thumbs rubbing her knuckles. "Who asks first?"

"Is that a yes then?"

"Absolutely," he smirked, and she beamed back at him.

"Alright...how about I start us off? Your favorite color is red."

"That's an easy one," he grinned as he let go of her hand, taking a sip of his beer.

"I had to start off easy," she teased. "I need to get you drunk enough before I can start asking the fun questions."

"You have fun questions in mind?"

"Of course I do," she smirked back. "Alright...let's see...You prefer beer over wine."

He took another sip.

"That doesn't mean I won't drink wine though," he clarified.

"How about you like whisky more than bourbon?"

He drank again.

"Are all of your questions going to be about drinking?"

"I told you - I have to work up to the fun ones," she giggled. "Alright...let's see here…" she thought aloud, tilting her head to the side. "You've never done recreational drugs."

He drank again. And again. And again until he was done with his beer. Kikyo either knew him a lot better than he thought she had, or he was just really easy to read.

"Let me get you another one," she laughed, sliding out of the booth and going up to the bar.

As soon as she left, the door opened and a small group of women walked in briefly gaining his attention. He could easily see them from his vantage point, but his nose told him he should pay a bit more attention to them than he was originally going to.

They were all Kagome's friends...and in the middle of the small group, stood Kagome herself.

His heart started racing and his palms became sweaty. Why the hell was she here? She knew he was going out with Kikyo tonight. Did she have to come here with her friends now? He gripped the table harder, as they made their way to a booth a few over from theirs, and he noticed she smelled nervous even if she didn't look it.

Did she not want to be here?

Did they drag her along?

That...he wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

"I'm back," Kikyo grinned, sitting down across from him. "Now...where were we...Oh right! You picked me those beautiful flowers earlier from your ranch," she said, slowly drawing him back to the here and now, and he drank again.

"Let's see…" she pondered aloud before her cheeks flushed. "Kagome was your first kiss."

"Everyone knew that," he groaned, drinking again.

"Ok...I'll try and make it a bit more challenging now then," she grinned mischievously. "You never had sex with her...but you wanted to."

His eyes widened, his mouth opening in shock. He hesitated, not sure he wanted her to know before he internally swore and drank again.

"I knew it!" she laughed, clapping her hands in delight. "Ok...how about this...You like to be the dominant one in the bedroom?"

"Were these the fun questions you were talking about earlier," he grumbled, taking another sip as his cheeks flushed.

"Oh I'm just getting started!" she cackled. "You haven't had sex in over three months."

God damnit...he didn’t want to admit that either.

He drank again, movement out of the corner of his eye catching his attention...and his wandering eyes caught Kikyo's attention. Kagome had stood up from the booth with her friends and had gone up to the bar, placing an order for who only knows what.

Probably some foo foo drink from California.

He probably drank more than he should have that time, and slammed his glass down a little harder than intended. The noise made Kikyo jump and Kagome turned around, her eyes widening when she saw them before lowering in shame as she turned back to the bar.

He turned his attention back to Kikyo, and saw her looking nervously at him before she tried to hide her feelings.

"Maybe we should stop playing," she whispered, looking down at her hands. "It's getting kinda late, right? And graduation is tomorrow—"

" —Ask me another one."

"Inuyasha…" she sighed. "You aren't over her, are you?"

"Drink." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What?" she replied, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"I said drink," he repeated. "Those are the rules. You made a false statement about me, so now you gotta drink."

"You're sweet, but we don't have to do this," she whispered, worrying the thin, gold bangle on her wrist, twisting it around and rubbing her fingers over the metal.

He clicked his tongue and stood up from his spot, sliding into the booth next to her.

"Inuyasha...what are you—"

He didn't let her finish, as he cupped her face and turned it towards him, leaning down to kiss her deeply, passionately. His teeth gently nipped kikyo's bottom lip, and he felt her arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer. A growl rumbled out from his chest, pleased with her response and his tongue prodded her lips, asking her for entrance.

Kikyo needed to be convinced he was over Kagome, right? That he didn't want her anymore. That he didn't still think about her. That he didn't still want her. Dream of her. Wonder how Kagome was doing in her new perfect life without him.

That he had moved on.

Was moving on.

Kagome was his past and he needed to focus on the future.

He had to.

He had to focus on a future without Kagome...because she didn't need him. And he didn't need her.

Not anymore.

Not in a long time.

He tried to pour all of those feelings into their kiss, and rejoiced when Kikyo parted her lips, granting him the permission he sought. He let out a low moan as their tongues touched, hers slipping into his mouth to explore his sharp fangs. He pulled her closer, sliding his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck as their kiss continued for a few more minutes, electrifying him to the point where he needed to push away before he gave Kikyo (and everyone else in the bar for that matter) a show he wasn't prepared for.

He leaned his head to hers, panting, pleased that she was doing this same.

"I said drink."

___________________

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[jbbarnesnnoble]

Where the Moonlight Shines (Part One)

Summary:  You’re a junior deputy in Hope County, Montana when things go to hell in a handbasket with the local cult. It’s months before help arrives in the form of the Avengers, taking you down a road you never expected.

Features: Mild violence

Pairing: TBD

Series Warnings: Canon typical violence; depictions/mentions of torture; depictions/mentions of brainwashing; will add more as they become relevant

Notes: Part One has dialogue directly from Far Cry 5; Series will primarily focus on the fallout of Hope County and Rook’s (Reader’s) recovery. While I have through part seven written, posting will likely be every other week if not longer as I go back through for the 1000th time and expand the story even more. Because of this, more warnings may be added. The story diverges entirely from MCU canon. Bucky is part of the team, IW and Endgame don’t happen and Civil War is ignored. 

This is a crossover between Far Cry 5 and the MCU

Word Count: 2631

You were the newest Junior Deputy with the Hope County Sheriff’s Department. Newest was a relative term. Hope County rarely saw newcomers, unless they were flocking to that damned Project. You had spent summers there growing up, sure, but there was something different about living there full time. It was a home away from home. You’d returned to Montana on a permanent basis for peace and quiet, away from the hustle and bustle of a more populated area. It was easier to keep to yourself there, even with everyone knowing you. You had healing abilities, something that happened when you were in high school, interning in a science lab. It was something you kept to yourself. 

Everyone called you Rook, even the people who had known you since you were a kid. You had started there as a dispatcher when you moved to Hope County, went through the academy when you saw the way things were heading with the Project, and got offered the position two years ago. The one thing you hated about the job was Nancy. If you had to hear Nancy go on one more time about whatever mundane thing was going on in her life, you were going to lose it. 

You had been in Hope County a few years when they started causing major issues. The Project at Eden’s Gate. Locals called the members of the Project Peggies. The Project had a dark cloud over it. Suspected kidnappings. Coercing businesses into closing. They had strict policies on alcohol. Namely that it wasn’t allowed. They had seemed innocent enough when they arrived years back. Joseph Seed, the so called ‘Father’, had worked with Father Jerome for a time. You weren’t sure when things started shifting, but they did. You hated working calls dealing with the Project. Especially calls in the Henbane, because inevitably, you would end up dealing with Faith Seed. You figured if you kept to yourself, only interacting when it was required for work, you’d be fine. You were wrong. So terribly wrong.

The real trouble started when you were at the bar in Fall’s End, the Spread Eagle. It was owned by Mary May Fairgrave, who was one of the toughest women you knew and one of your oldest friends. You had just settled in to have a beer and a burger, catching up with her, when trouble walked in. 

One of the leaders of the Project at Eden’s Gate came in looking smug as always. You knew which brother it was by the designer clothes he wore and the look of disdain plastered upon his face. John Seed was an arrogant bastard. He was always trying to get Mary May to close up shop, going on about how alcohol was immoral and how it drove people to sin. Preaching about how he had been lost to the vice before his brother found him. You rolled your eyes at him and continued your conversation with the bartender, pretending he wasn’t there. You considered her one of your closest friends in the county outside of Joey Hudson and Staci Pratt. You knew being ignored would only serve to rile him up. 

“I’m sorry, I thought it was rude to ignore a customer,” he said, flashing a smile that was so fake it put Barbie to shame. 

“What can I get you?” Mary May asked through grit teeth. You watched the interaction with caution. You could never trust a Seed. 

“A water, please, and a moment of your time,” he replied. You choked back a laugh. Of course he’d only order water. You took a sip of the drink in front of you, a watered down beer that reminded you of the bonfires in high school, when everything seemed so much more simple. Nights curled up against Staci’s side, his hand never straying from your back. Staci Pratt, ex-boyfriend turned colleague and one of your best friends. You remembered nights spent laughing with Rachel Jessop, now Faith Seed. Before the drugs. Before the Project. You knew Tracey had taken it hard when Rachel joined the cult. You all had. And now there were rumors about her and something called the Bliss. You didn’t like it and investigations into it had turned up nothing, the Seeds stonewalling you at every turn. 

“You know, Deputy, it is certainly unbecoming of an officer of the law to be in a place like this,” John said, drawing out the syllables in the word deputy. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Seed, this is one of the local watering holes. You’d be hard pressed to find an officer who doesn’t come in on a night off,” you snapped. Mary May set the glass of water down on the bar, water sloshing over the side with the force, earning a dirty look from John. 

“We want you to stop serving alcohol, Ms. Fairgrave. It’s a temptation for many of our flock,” John said. 

“Too damn bad, Seed. This bar was here long before you and it’ll be here long after,” she said. 

“We’ll see about that,” you heard him mutter before he spoke again, “I’d hate to see something happen because of one of our more zealous members. We cannot be held accountable for their actions,” he said before standing and walking out the door.  As the man left the bar, she gave you a look of concern. 

“I don’t trust him or those brothers of his, Rook. Sooner or later something is going to give. Did you hear about the Anderson’s kids? They just up and left, leaving a note for their parents sayin’ they were leaving their life of sin to join the Project,” Mary-May said. 

“I’m sure they’re harmless. If they weren’t surely the feds would be closing in on them...hell, maybe even the Avengers. Every time we’ve carried out a welfare check, the person was accounted for,” you said. You wondered if you’d ever believe that yourself. 

You had seen things when carrying out those checks that set you on edge. But there was no proof that the Seeds were doing anything illegal, no proof that people were being kidnapped. You couldn’t even get a warrant to search their properties, John Seed made sure of that. Damned Georgia lawyer. He was a massive thorn in the side of the Sheriff's Department. The hands of the department were tied, no matter how much you all hated it. 

“Now that’d be a sight, the Avengers here in Hope County,” she said with a shake of her head. 

“For all we know, the Project could be an arm of Hydra, now wouldn’t that be something? With the rumors that swirl about those brothers, it wouldn’t surprise me is all I’m saying,” you said. 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll send ya to hang out with Zip,” she said as she wiped down the bar. You laughed. Zip Kupka was the local conspiracy theorist. You’d answered more than your fair share of calls out to his place. The only other person who could top Zip for crazy theories was Larry Parker. You sat talking for a while, until she was closing for the night. Things happened in a blur. Something went through the front window as she was flipping the chairs up and hit her. You rushed to her side.

“Mary May, stay awake...stay awake damn it,” you said as you pressed your hand to the gash on her head. You focused on the injury. Your powers were jarring when you hadn’t used them in awhile. Blue encased your hand as you worked to heal the damage. She looked at you stunned.

“That ain’t normal,” she said. You sighed as you helped her sit up. You didn’t see the two figures watching the scene from across the street in their car.

“It’s...complicated. Come on, let’s get some food and water in you,” you said, helping her up. You covered the broken window up while she sat down. You picked up the rock. There was a note attached.

“What’s it say?” she asked.

“Last warning. Close up shop, or else...Mary, I’m taking this down the station,” you said. She frowned.

“I don’t see what that’s going to do. We don’t have proof it came from the Seeds,” she said. 

“John Seed has been pressuring you for weeks now to stop selling alcohol and to close down...but you’re probably right. He’ll just say it was an overzealous member of the Project,” you said, feeling defeated. You stayed the night, worried that something else would happen. You left early, glad you had the day off. You headed up to the station to drop the rock and the note off with the Eden’s Gate files before you headed home. Something was coming, you just weren’t so sure what. 

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

A few days later, Cameron Burke arrived in town, with a warrant from the Federal Marshals for the arrest of Joseph seed. You had a bad feeling about the arrest. None of you were comfortable with the task. Sheriff Whitehorse had tried to talk him out of it. He had no idea what he was doing. You knew it would only provoke the hornets nest, not destroy it. 

“You sure you’re alright? You can sit this one out, no judgment,” Staci said as your group headed to the helicopter. 

“Alright is subjective, Pratt. I just have a bad feeling about this arrest,” you said. He nodded.

“I don’t like it either but the Marshal won’t change his mind. You know that as well as I do. He’s bullheaded. All he’s gonna do is rile them up,” he said. You nodded in agreement. 

“We’ll be alright,” you said. You knew neither of you believed it. Through the flight, you tried re-watching the videos. The videos were the closest thing to evidence of wrong doing. Your stomach churned at the thought. Joseph Seed was shown on video gouging out the eyes of someone. 

Pratt landed the helicopter and your feelings of unease grew. Members of the Project stood with guns at the ready. You could hear the sounds of their music playing, some song about Jacob Seed setting the sinners free. You hated the Project music, even if it was catchy. It was creepy. 

“Hudson, on the door, watch our backs, don’t let any of these people get in. Rookie, on me,” Sheriff Whitehorse said. Whitehorse was like a father figure. You knew he had reservations about the arrest, which was why he told the Marshal to follow his lead. You didn’t like how cocky the Marshal was. As the three of you entered the church a chill ran down your spine as Joseph Seed spoke. His flock were listening intently, hanging on every word the man said. 

“They will come, try to take from us, take our guns, take our freedom, take our faith! We will not let them!” Joseph preached. Anxiety had made itself at home, feeling like a rock in your stomach. Everything in you said to run, far away and never look back. 

“Sheriff come on,” Burke said. His impatience grated on you. He didn’t understand just how tenuous the situation was. 

“Just hold on Marshal,” Whitehorse said. You were saying a silent prayer, hoping Burke wouldn’t do something stupid. 

“We will not let their greed, or their immorality, or their depravity hurt us anymore, there will be no more suffering,” Joseph said before the Marshal interrupted, against the warnings of the sheriff. 

“Joseph Seed! I have a warrant issued for your arrest on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm. Now, I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see them,” Burke said. And there it was. Whatever happened now, Burke had all but sealed your fates. 

You thought about what you knew about the Seeds. John was a lawyer. You’d had to deal with him on multiple occasions. He was smart, good at what he did. He was the youngest brother and owned a ranch in the valley. Jacob was the oldest, a veteran. When the family bought up St. Francis, up in the Whitetail Mountains, he’d made himself at home there. And then there was Faith Seed. Rachel Jessop. Joseph Seed had taken her under his wing and suddenly, she was known as Faith, Rachel just a memory. You avoided her if you could. She was a friend, once upon a time. 

“Here they are, locusts in our garden. See they’ve come from me. They’ve come to take me away from you. They’ve come to destroy all that we’ve built!” Joseph said. The jeering from the crowd grew louder. Your breathing grew more shallow. You were terrified. There were far more of them than there were of you. Even with Hudson at the door, just outside, you were outnumbered and outgunned. Burke made a move for his gun.

“Don’t touch that service weapon!” Whitehorse snapped. He called for calm as Joseph did the same for his congregants. 

“We knew this moment would come. We have prepared for it. Go, go, God will not let them take me,” Joseph said, as his siblings moved behind him. He raised his arms in the air, head tilted up toward the ceiling as members of his congregation walked toward the doors.

“I saw when the Lamb opened the first seal and I heard as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts say “come and see” and I saw. And behold, it was a white horse, and hell followed with him,” Joseph said, his gaze falling on you as he held his arms out. 

“Rookie, cuff this son of a bitch,” Burke said. You felt a cold sweat form. Why you? Why did you have to be the one to cuff him when the Marshal was the one who came to arrest him? You were there as back up, not to be the arresting officer. You looked at him. You felt the eyes of all four Seeds on you, curious about what you would do. You were frozen to the spot. You could refuse, walk away, pretend it never happened. Live your life.

“Rookie, come on,” Burke said, getting impatient. You went against your gut. Your hands shook as you took your cuffs from your belt. You closed your eyes as you locked them in place, feeling as though you had just set something in motion you couldn’t take back. 

As you got Joseph into the chopper, his people snapped into action. They were not going to let you go. Even as Pratt went to take off, people were still climbing on the chopper and soon, it was falling from the sky as Joseph sang Amazing Grace. You blacked out for a moment, opening your eyes to see Joseph staring at you. You reached for the dangling headset as Nancy’s voice came over the radio. Joseph responded, and when you heard her call him Father, you cursed her out in your head. You should have known she was one of them. 

“Let the Reaping begin!” Joseph yelled. As much as you wanted to help your colleagues, your friends, you knew you couldn’t save them and yourself. You got yourself out and took off. You found Burke and the two of you attempted to make a get away, only to end up going off the bridge and into the water. When you next came to, you found yourself cuffed to a bed in a bunker, only to find it belonged to Dutch, a prepper who saved you from the Seeds and the Project when you came on shore. You couldn’t help but think back to what Whitehorse had said before you’d headed to the church. Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone.

[thegoldendice]

Love Is A Battlefield

Fandom - American Horror Story 1984

Pairing - Xavier Plympton/Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Suicide, Violence, Mental Heath Issues, Sexual Content, Language, Religious Content

Chapter  - 6/12

Read on - ao3, ff.net

Fic Summary - The year is 1984. You're a poor student living alone in L.A., plagued by your problematic relationships with a false friend and a disturbed ex. You meet Xavier Plympton, an aerobics instructor with a dark past, at the gym where you’ve taken a reception job. You quickly develop feelings for him, and you learn to your relief that he likes you too. Soon a deadly series of events befall you and the people in your life. Overwhelmed by tragedy and with your blossoming romance cut short, you are left a wreck. Six years later you discover that while Xavier is dead, he hasn’t quite departed. You soon realise that if you are to be with him and finally achieve true peace and happiness, you must take your own life and become a Camp Redwood ghost.

Chapter Summary - You are forced to accept the fact that Xavier is a ghost when he kills himself in front of you. You come face to face with your old colleague Montana, another trapped soul. She reveals that the Xavier you once knew has changed dramatically since 1984.

Your senses begin to awaken before you are entirely conscious. The wind has picked up - you hear it buffeting the sides of the building you’re in. You are lying down, a rough blanket covering most of your body. There is a pronounced smell of decay in the air around you. It's not unpleasant, in fact, it reminds you of the attic in the house where you grew up.

You want to look around but fear stops you. You were outdoors when you fainted, so someone has moved you. If you don't keep your eyes tightly closed, who knows what you will see.

Xavier is alive.

You saw him.

It has to have been him who brought you inside. Who else would cover you up and try to make sure you were comfortable?

No.

He can't be alive.

He was murdered.

You didn't see him out by the lake. It’s not possible. It must have been some sick freak dressed as him. The newspapers would have shown his picture. Anyone could find out what he looked like, what clothes he wore. It has to be an imposter, hanging around the camp waiting to scare unwitting passers-by.

You can't take it any more. You need to find out where you are. You push down the panic growing inside you and take a deep breath, opening your eyes. You are in a cabin, lying on a musty old wooden bed. The blanket that covers you is well on it’s way to becoming ragged. Everything looks grey. Even the wall hangings that must have been vibrant once have grown dull and muted.

You look around. Your eyes come to rest on a figure in the far corner. You fight to suppress the gasp that manifests in your chest. It’s him, the man who looks so like Xavier. His face is mostly in shadow. You must have been unconscious for several hours, as parts of the cabin are completely dark. The Xavier lookalike sits in a dilapidated armchair that looks as though it's been in this cabin since the 50's. As you watch, the man brings a hand to his mouth and begins to pick at his nails.

You notice a lethal-looking knife resting on the floor beside the man's feet. Terror courses through you and your breathing becomes shaky as you start to panic. Fake Xavier goes rigid. You can't see his face properly, but you know he's looking at you. Before you get the chance to scramble out from under the shoddy blanket, the man heaves himself out of his armchair and moves across the room. You gag on the scream about to make it's way out of your body when you hear him speak.

“Y/n, Y/n, calm down! It's me, calm down.”

You look into the eyes of the man who has crouched down, inches from the foot of your bed. Everything in your body tells you to run, to escape from this situation. Your physical responses haven't caught up to your brain yet. Your brain knows that this is Xavier.

“I know this is a shock.” He says, raising one hand towards you as though you are a frightened animal he needs to keep calm.

You actually manage a laugh. It comes out slightly maniacal, you know. You begin to feel something akin to anger, but it's diluted by pure relief.

“You're alive! You're alive... I can't believe it. You're alive.” Tears begin to form in your eyes. “But Xavier, why? Why have you allowed everyone to believe you were dead all these years!? Why are you still here?”

You don't mean to sound accusatory, but you don't understand. Why the hell would he stay here?

“Oh Y/n, no.” Xavier looks so sad, it confuses you even further. “I'm here because I have to be. I can't leave. I'm dead.”

At that, Xavier moves to grab the knife he left lying behind him. He kneels before you again and, grasping the knife's hilt, he drags the blade swiftly down his left forearm, opening an artery. You watch in disbelief as blood gushes forth, covering him. A cry of horror escapes you when he manages to take the knife in his left hand and wound his other arm in the same manner as before.

“It'll be okay Y/n.” Xavier whispers, his lifeblood spilling out onto the floor. “You'll see.”

With that, Xavier topples sideways, his eyes fluttering closed. You throw off your blanket and crash to your knees beside him. You watch, stupefied, as he dies. He takes a final breath, smiling at you. You fail to move as the blood creeps across the floor, reaching you and soaking into your clothing. You struggle to form sounds, simply gaping at Xavier's lifeless body.

Your tears fall silently.

You hear a creak behind you and turn, numbly, not caring that someone is approaching.

It's him.

Of course, it's him. This is a nightmare. You passed out at the pier, and you're still there, dreaming of a suicidal Xavier. It figures the Xavier of your nightmare would kill himself. Suicide is often on your mind. You snicker slightly at the irony. Confusion clouds Xavier's features. Clearly, he was not expecting you to find the situation funny.

“Shit.” He says. “I thought that would work.”

He comes to kneel beside you, avoiding the blood and ignoring his own dead body. He grasps your arms and shakes you slightly, causing more tears to fall down your face.

“Y/n, this is real. I died here in 1984. I came here to work, remember? To get away from the city and all its bullshit. I asked you to come too, but you had to leave L.A. You left me a message...”

Xavier trails off. You look at him, trying to process what he's telling you. You glance at the body. It's him lying there, dead. There can be no doubt. But here he is in front of you, watching you with his beautiful eyes. Your brain offers up a conclusion that completely ignores logic.

“You're a ghost.”

It's not a question. There can be no other explanation.

“I guess I am,” Xavier replies, smiling slightly.

~

You're still in shock. You must be, because you're finding it difficult to feel much of anything, emotionally. You're aware of your physical body, of course. You can feel Xavier's bare arm touching your own. He's sitting to the right of you, both of your pairs of feet dangle off the side of the rickety bed. Your backs are pressed against the cabin wall. You can see out of the window opposite you because the single, drawn curtain is so threadbare. It's extremely dark outside.

You have been talking with Xavier for several hours. He left you briefly to get rid of the dead body. You had expected it to disappear or fade away, but Xavier explained that it had to be buried. The thought of someone having to dispose of their own corpse horrified you, but Xavier didn't seem to mind. He told you that Chet, Ray and a few others would help. You wanted to see them, speak to them, but you stayed in the cabin. You didn't think your emotions could cope with attending a ghost funeral. While Xavier was gone, you changed out of your blood-soaked jeans and put on a pair of shorts he took from the old chest of drawers.

Nobody bothered you during Xavier’s absence, and since he returned your cabin has been left alone. You spoke at length together about everything that has happened to you both over the past five years. According to Xavier, many people are trapped here at Redwood, unable to move on after their deaths. You know that they are all aware of your presence, these lost souls. Xavier told you that when a living person comes into the camp, it's as if a shock-wave vibrates through the atmosphere. It was pure coincidence that Xavier was the first ghost to cross your path. That, or fate.

Xavier's skin is cool against yours. His temperature hasn't changed the entire time you've been touching him. You suppose it must be something to do with being dead. You are reluctant to ask, despite his openness about the whole thing. You'd rather he brought it up, or not talk about it at all. As the conversation has come to a natural lull, you rest your head on Xavier's shoulder, feeling incredibly drained.

“Is this okay?” You ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course it's okay,” Xavier replies in similar tones.

He reaches towards you and takes your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. It feels right, despite the lack of warmth in his touch.

“I wish I'd come here sooner. Maybe if Scott hadn't stopped me coming with you, things could have turned out differently.”

“No Y/n. Margaret would have just killed you as well.”

“Maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing.” You mumble.

Xavier doesn't reply. You let out a sigh.

“I'm glad you're here now.” Xavier says after several minutes have passed.

You raise your head from his shoulder to look at him. His gaze on you is intent. You inhale, breathing in a tiny hint of the scent you remember from so long ago. It lingers around him, but just barely. His cologne, hairspray, and clean sweat. It's like an echo of the past, bringing tears to your eyes. Before you can stop yourself you are weeping. Xavier raises his free hand to hold your face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. He hasn't stopped staring into your eyes. Despite everything, you want to kiss him. Your lip trembles as he begins to lean down towards you.

When Xavier's lips touch yours, you wonder at the sensation. His touch feels cold, but not unpleasant. It's unusual. Then again, kissing, in general, is unusual for you. You haven't let a single person get near you in an intimate way for six years. The kiss intensifies when you part your lips. Xavier does the same, allowing your tongues to meet and brush together. You feel your body respond as it always does when you're being kissed. Your heart beats faster and your nipples harden inside your bra. You feel heat begin to gather between your legs, giving away the fact that you are reaching peak arousal.

You place a hand on Xavier's chest, clutching him gently. He begins to lean into you and you lie back, taking his weight on top of your body. He lets out a groan from the back of his throat. You know it's been a while for him as well. You are choosing not to care that he was sleeping with Montana until last year, when her true love reappeared and was subsequently killed by Margaret Booth. How can you be jealous? Xavier thought he'd never see you again.

You slip a hand under his shirt in order to connect with his skin, stroking one of his well developed pectoral muscles. You want to caress his entire body, preferably while you are both naked. You sit up slightly in order to remove your shirt, which is just getting in the way. Xavier reaches down to help you. You are about to lift it over your head when you happen to glance down at the floor. Your eyes are drawn to the bloodstains on the shabby rug. You see the knife that Xavier used to open his veins. A wave of nausea swells up inside you, drowning your arousal.

“Xavier, I can't do this. I'm so sorry. It's just you're... you're dead, Xavier.”

His name becomes a sob as it leaves you.

You watch as Xavier backs away, nodding. He says nothing.

“I have to go. I need fresh air. I'm sorry.”

Xavier nods again, moving aside as you get up from the bed and leave the cabin. It's dark outside, but you can still see. You thank your lucky stars that there is a bright moon tonight. You wrap your arms around yourself as the wind hits you. You don't want to venture far, so you sit down on the steps that lead up to the cabin.

Your tears flow freely. You chuckle a little, realising you have hardly stopped crying since you got here. It's a sharp contrast to the overwhelming numbness you felt in L.A. In fact, you don't remember feeling this much in a very long time. Not since the summer you abandoned your suicide attempt and cut yourself off from your emotions.

You are lost in thought, your breathing gaining a steady rhythm, when you hear footsteps crunching towards you. You look up warily and are shocked to see Montana, followed by a dark-haired man you assume to be her lover Trevor. You don't know why it surprises you so much to see her. You knew she was here.

“Montana.” You manage to croak out, your voice hoarse from crying. “How are you?”

Montana smirks at the stupidity of your question but chooses not to address its inappropriateness.

“I'm great, actually. This is Trevor by the way.” Montana angles her head backwards in the direction of the stranger, who gives you a somewhat bored wave but says nothing.

“How are you though? You look like shit.”

You smile. Montana hasn't changed a bit. In fact, she reminds you of your old friend Amy.

“I'm uh... I've been better. The past six years have been hard for me. Not as hard as being dead, I'm sure.”

Montana grins at you.

“It's not been all bad.” She shrugs. “I mean, we are stuck here yeah, but we've always found ways to amuse ourselves.”

Your gaze rests for the briefest moment on the somewhat pronounced bulge in Trevor's trousers.

“I'm sure.” You clear your throat, looking away.

“Oh, I don't mean sex.” Montana laughs, eyes wide. “Now, yeah. I've reformed you see. But before... well before we just killed people to pass the time. Then Trevor came back to me.”

Dread fills you as you watch Montana flash Trevor a sickly sweet smile.

“When you say we...” You trail off, not wishing to complete your sentence.

Montana's expression turns serious.

“When I say we, I mean all of us. Xavier included. I think it's only right that you know the whole truth. Anyway, good to see you Y/n.”

Montana turns to go, Trevor following in her wake. You are left, once again, in utter shock at what you have learned. You feel rooted to the spot, unable to return to Xavier. You don't want to face him, face the truth. He has become a murderer. And you are in love with him. You've been in love with him ever since you first saw him, and not even his death could kill that love. Can the knowledge of what he has been doing since then finally put an end to your desire for him?

You feel utterly stricken as you stare out into the distance, listening to the sound of nocturnal creatures hunting their prey.

You know you will have to face Xavier sooner or later, you can't just leave the camp.

You take a deep, steadying breath and stand. Turning back towards the door, you jump when you realise that Xavier is leaning just inside the threshold, watching you. Clearly, he is able to appear without making a single sound.

“You know about the killing?” He asks, cautiously.

You nod.

“Clearly we have more to talk about.”

You nod again and follow Xavier back into the cabin.

[emmettrook]

black friday

Maybe it was missing his family on Thanksgiving.

 The Kovali held a party, and while he was there he’d been able to forget what he was missing, but it wasn’t the same—not when Dakota wasn’t there to turn on the Macy’s Day parade because she loved to see the balloons, or when the kids (even though they weren’t kids anymore) didn’t get sent outside to burn off energy while the turkey was in the oven, or when they didn’t pile into one of the ranch trucks to drive out and cut a Christmas tree.  Molly facetimed later that day, right before they sat down for dinner in Montana, but it wasn’t the same.

 Maybe it was the fact that, despite the pauses and delays of scant cell service on Molly’s end, he could see Jimmy’s parents there.  The O’Carroll family was small, so they’d always come over, the adults gathered at one end of the table and the “kids”—no matter how old—at the other.  So it was nothing new—but before, Jimmy’d been there. Emmett had been there.  And now they were missing, for different reasons.

 And maybe that was why Emmett dreamed about the war again.  Because it had split his life into before and after, and no matter how many times he’d replayed it in his dreams he kept seeing the truck explode.  Kept seeing Jimmy die again

 and again

 and again.

 And that was why Emmett spent Black Friday drinking.

 He hadn’t planned it like that.  It’d started like normal, waking up with a shower to wash off the cold sweat, a glass of whiskey to try to chase away the memories.  A walk for Janey.  A beer with lunch to take the edge off.  And when it didn’t, he’d gone to Farley’s, thinking he’d only be there a few hours.

 But Dave was there, his wife having ditched him for shopping, and then Matt came in, and Aaron, and they played pool, and shot the breeze, and Anna and Dylan came in for the Cincinnati vs. Memphis game and got them all into watching (as long as they promised to root for Memphis), and then of course they had to celebrate when Memphis won, and then Matt’s girlfriend showed up with a bunch of her friends, and Emmett wasn’t quite sure if the girl he’d gone home with was one of those friends or just somebody else who’d happened to be there.  He wasn’t quite sure what her name was, either—honestly, at that point he wasn’t sure he even remembered his own name.  He didn’t remember much of anything, except that when they’d left Farley’s it’d been dark out, and that had surprised him. He hadn’t thought they’d been there that long.

 And he hadn’t planned on spending all night with a stranger.  But when he finally woke up and checked the time—11:41 Saturday morning, his battery on 2%--Janey’s grinning face lit up his lockscreen.

 SHIT.

 Tripping around the half-darkened room, collecting his clothes with his head pounding and mouth dry, he left without waking the girl up, stumbling into the blinding daylight and too-loud city noise of a Chicago hangover.

 He didn’t know where his truck was—outside Farley’s, probably with a ticket on the windshield, or maybe towed already.  Hell, he didn’t even know where he was, but he caught a taxi before making it to the corner to read the street signs.  He’d been gone almost 24 hours—poor Janey would be ready to burst.

 And she was, running out the door as soon as he opened it and doing her business without pausing to chase the cat who’d been perched on the railing or inspect the split trash bag someone hadn’t bothered to throw in the dumpster.  “Sorry, kid,” Emmett told her, scratching her ears once she’d come back to him.  He hadn’t made it farther than the stairway.  “You have a crazy night too?”

 But when they got back inside, he realized that she’d had a hungry night, and a thirsty one.  She’d been clawing at the cabinet where he kept her food—he couldn’t fault her for that—and her water bowl stood nearly empty, and a pang of guilt ran deeper than his headache.  Shit.

 “Sorry,” he told her again, scooping a generous portion of kibble into her dish and filling her water while she wolfed it down.  “I didn’t mean to…I thought I was comin’ back.”  He’d thought he was going to be back so much sooner.  He’d thought he was going to take care of her.  He’d thought he was going to be okay.

 But when he went to crash on his bed, offering a “C’mon, bud” and figuring she’d be happy to jump up and flop next to him—she didn’t come.

 “Janey?”

 She was still in the kitchen, watching him with an expression he couldn’t place.  “Janey,” he said again, “here, girl.”

 But she still didn’t come, and when he finally ordered her because he couldn’t figure out what else to do, she crouched low to the ground, slinking toward him like she hadn’t done since the first day he’d brought her home, when she’d been brand-new and not sure whether to trust him.

 And Emmett felt like shit, but he got up again, sitting on the edge of the bed to call her over—and then he saw that she’d had an accident on the floor in the corner, and she looked so damn guilty about it, like it was her fault when the fault was all his, and his heart broke.

 “Jane,” he said, and was crying, and she was at his side, whining and licking his face like he was the one who needed comfort, and she was more than he’d ever deserve. “Janey—I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, baby—”

 She wormed her way into his lap, all sixty pounds of her, and whined in his ear and pawed at his arms and let him cry in her neck, and he gave her a hundred apologies she couldn’t understand and forgot about his hangover because he’d been out drinking while she was here, alone, hungry and guilty and trying her best and not knowing it wasn’t her fault—

 It was his fault.  It was his, and he knew it, and for the first time he couldn’t try to deny that something needed to change.

 “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I won’t leave ya again—promise—”

And he didn’t deserve it, but she stayed with him, steadfast and loyal and dependable, like he should have been, like he wanted to be.

 Like he wished he’d been for Jimmy.

 “C’mon,” he said finally, crawling back into bed.  He’d clean up after her later—he had lots of cleaning up to do.  Starting with his own mind.

 So, as Janey stretched out alongside him, thumping her tail against his knee and breathing dog breath against his face, he dug his phone from his pocket—1% battery.  Caught in the nick of time.

 [text: Doc] You know what you said in the ER?

 Emmett had come in a few weeks before with a boxer’s fracture—maybe unsurprising on its own, but it’d been 3 a.m. on a weeknight.  And although he hadn’t told Roe why he’d punched a wall—hadn’t told him about the dreams, and the panic attacks, and the rage at how helpless he felt—Roe had known something was going on.  And Emmett hadn’t listened, then.

 But he needed to, now. For Janey’s sake, if not his own.

 [text: Doc] You got some of those numbers?

 His phone died seconds after he’d sent the text, and he fished around for the charger, plugging it in and turning it on silent.  He’d check later, after a nap, maybe.  Janey would wake him up.

 Running his hand over her skull—the same hand she’d bitten when he’d rescued her, the same hand he’d broken—he closed his eyes, settling in despite how much she smelled like a dog. She needed a bath, at some point. One more thing to clean up.

 “You and me, kid,” he mumbled.  “We’re gonna figure this shit out.”  

 He sighed; she licked his hand.  

 “Promise.”

[aintnouseofpretending]

There Will Not Be A Next Time

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

Summary: You and Gwilym have been together for long. Despite living together, you respect each other boundaries. What you thought was just a little bit cheesy; “Their job is pretty obvious. It’ll come off as clingy if I ask them about it,” dynamic the two of you having currently, turns out to be the reason for your split. It was revealed when you’re in the middle of your hero work, the infamous villain you have long chase was none other than your own boyfriend.

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader (slight x Joe Mazzello)

Warning: ANGST. Fluff. Cursing. Violence, blood, and death. Throwing up. Superhero AU.

Word Count: 3423.

Inspired by: Led Zeppelin - Babe I’m Gonna Leave You

Perma-Tag: @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark

Note: This means the scene is happening right now. This means the scene happened in the past.

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

It still feels like yesterday when the two of you hugged. You make tea and breakfast whilst he put the record on the antique gramophone he found last month. The giggles you make as he silly dance towards you and slithers his hands on your waist from behind. He kisses your shoulder, you struggle cooking and dancing slowly with him. Soft smiles planted on both of your lips as they meet. Enjoying the classic blue melodies in each other embraces.

It’s warm. It smells very good. You feel very fuzzy and comfortable, and so does he. If the world is to end then, there’ll be no regret between the two of you. But you can’t take credit for such thought, because Gwilym whispers it right on your ears; his lips on your earlobe tingles down your body. He whines when you break off the hug for you have to serve the breakfast on the table. The two of you jokes, laugh, exchanging what happens at work—the silent promise you both agreed that best not to pry too far. Because there’s no need to; it’s clear that you work in the local community whilst juggling it with being a high school teacher when to you he’s obviously a freelance computer scientist.

You still remember all of that. It’s becoming even more vivid by the second as if it is happening right now. Maybe because you finally saw his face again. Suddenly all the beautiful memories rush in, replacing those that are bad. The massive urge to embrace him again is something you can’t no longer hold nor acted upon as your hands touch the cold concrete ground. Your eyes getting blurry, perhaps from the tears. And finally you can hear it; his voice calling your name. This time it wasn’t just a memory. Not a hallucination. No matter how he says it, the sound always calms you. It gives you the necessary energy to stay alive and do what you promised him and yourself.

You will get him back. You’ll redeem him, aid him back to the right path. No matter the cost.

He wishes for nothing more but to rewind time. Now he’s forced to face the consequence. Of his own action. Of your action. His deep blue eyes stare into the distance. He let the wind slowly caress his exposed head. It’s cold but pleasant. Just like your hand. How in every bad situation at work that left him sour, will easily wash away by your touch. You never fail to calm him down, to make him feel content. His most cherished moment where when you read on the sofa, you let him laid his head on your lap for a nap. It’s like in heaven, the way you gently hums and comb his hair or pets his head.

He misses it so much. God, he has no idea how to prevent this from happening, he almost says he will do anything for it. But no. That’s not why he’s there in the first place. Standing on the roof of a building, waiting for you to catch up. To finally put an end at the forking path the two of you will be forced to choose. The second hardest choice he has to make. Not even time is kind to him and let him think; you’ve arrived. The masked hero in a purple suit.

“We have to stop this once and for all, Titan.” Your voice is commanding and powerful and cold. If it were not directed at what you thought was just an evil stranger, perhaps Gwilym will notice it sooner. You’re far too different you might as well be someone else completely. But that’s just an empty hope at this point.

“Will we?” Without his mask and voice distortion, you finally hear his real voice. But it comes with an overwhelming amount of realisation. He’s indeed a human, with you superhuman ability you can detect who he is easy that if you don’t know who he is. But that’s not the case. Someone you never thought would be the villain famous for using technology against the government and the side of humanity, for the goal you now knows.

“Gwilym?”

“Hi, Galactica. My love.” He turned around, revealing his tired but familiar face. He could not bear to see how you reacted, but at the same time, he could not detach his eyes from your figure in full costume as you unmasked. The body of an extreme nuisance of a superhero, with the head of his lover. Your face clearly shows the honesty of a woman that refuses to believe what’s in front of her eyes. He could almost predict what you are gonna say if you still think he’s not your boyfriend of five years.

“I would not ask why.” You finally could talk. Your voice is breaking. “You know how it ends with me, Gwil. Revenge will never end the pain. It doubles.”

“We wouldn’t know. Our life is far too different.”

“But we share them—!”

“We don’t know! We have zero clues that the two of us are standing on the opposite side of the line! It was inevitable, y/n. When there’s still a chance this happen sooner and much less painful. We just have to be more honest.”

The pain you both felt was mutual. It was too difficult to talk, much less it would be to convince each other to change side. The two of you knows it’s impossible.

“But no more regret. I am Titan and you’re Galactica." His voice slowly turned twisted as he put his helm back on. Perhaps you will not make up your mind to beat him into a pulp if he doesn’t establish that fact

It was still hard to swallow. None of you still could believe it that right now you fight each other, the same old routine. But every hit the two of you landed, every pain you received felt agonizingly more real. Whether you should suppress or making it twice more painful. It’s like an eternity when you can’t hold back your tears but somehow manages to hold back all your kill shots, but Gwilym feels and notices it on the level you could never imagine, and let you overpower him in the end.

“Do it.” He groaned as you forcefully take off his now broken helmet. You sit on his stomach, pinning him down effectively whilst he lay vulnerable. Fist raised, ready to end him, but your hand stays stationary.

“Fool!” You screamed. “How could you think I can do that?!”

The last time you’re on top of him was when the two of you play fight, with no intention of hurting each other. There were laughs. There was music. There was happiness. But Gwilym detests the thought that this time it gave of almost the same atmosphere. He also wants you to not think such, no matter how challenging to do so.

“Don’t you say that you’ll also let me go even if we’re not a lover. You know my sins, Galactica.”

You ignored him. Instead, indulge in your sadness and the irony of the situation whilst you touch his face. The same face you expected to see every day, every night, for the rest of your life. You’re still not sure what to make of the situation, but the more you drink to his facial feature, the more you rejected the idea that this is the end. There’s still a way. You’re a superhero, and that’s your way. So when he throws you off in such strength the wall you land on start crumbling down, you have made up your mind.

“Nothing will change me!” He screamed. “Not even after many upcoming battles with you!”

Even a superhuman like you still could feel your body sore. And just like you, he has made up his mind. One of our lover quarrels, you thought, where the two of us refuse to back down like many times before. The two of you always find a way to solve the problem, doesn’t matter how it ends with unsatisfactory.

“There will not be a next time, Titan.” First I have to stop him. To prove that his way is wrong. “Mark my words.”

“It’s in the past.” You answered rather unwillingly. “We’re no longer the same person we thought we were.”

Joe Mazzello, your fellow superhero comrade, pats you on your back. Your team is preparing for the LAB-2411 raid near Birmingham, UK. Gwilym secret base all this time. It took almost three months to get the clearing from the government and the Council of Justice that manages licensed superheroes like you. Almost a hundred percent the place is empty, but whatever was left behind will lead to where he moves it. That’s also why Joe is there with his investigative-type power.

The sympathetic smile he gave you helps melting down the tension. Only make sense for him to have such effect on you; he’s the one that introduces you to Gwilym. Although you have told him to not hold himself responsible for the incident, you’re sure he still feel guilty for it. You try to rid of such burden from him, after all with he has long helped you even with just his mere presence.

“It’s exactly zero point zero zero zero zero and twenty-five percent that he will be there.” You assure. He shrugged.

“I want to say that sounded pretty accurate, but then that would be the biggest lie I ever told you.” He joked whilst he put on his gloves. “Don’t argue that my biggest lie was actually when I get you in the gig and claimed you’re just another human as your action stopping the Behemoth from obliterating Cincinnati was aired live on the TV next to me.”

“But somehow you managed to pull it off.”

“Hell fucking yeah I pull it off. Totally not because of you Falcon Punch the shit out of that absolute unit of a monster. Not at all! So you still owe me one.”

“Absolutely. A date was it? Next week? At five? Marathoning Hannah Montana until you cried?”

“Hey, okay! No one fucking diss Hannah in front of me, you hear?” He nudges your waist, as you fake flinch. “That’s a promise! If you’re not in your apartment already preparing Hannah Montana’s DVDs and a bottle of wine when I come with a bouquet and box of chocolate, I will sue you, you fraud!”

“And if you don’t come with flowers and snacks when I’m already putting the DVDs in as I pour the wine, I will report you to CoJ and get your license revoked!”

“Five dollars?”

“Done.” After you confirmed, you never thought he could smile that wide. He nodded childishly and mockingly as he slides away, he didn’t forget to finger guns you at every possible moment and mouthed five dollars even when the raid has started.

“You’re quick to move on, Galactica.” Sneered the pink-skinned villainess. “I don’t blame you. One hell of a cute guy. He’s the “No Shit Sherlock” hero, right? If I were straight, I would probably shag you already.”

“Let go of Dact.” The venom in your voice makes even Joe shivered. “And I might spare your life.”

“Now now. I need a solid deal.” The woman’s violet claws get Joe’s jaw on lock. The claw’s tip is so sharp it might easily pierce through his skin with no pain, even the thought makes you cringed.

“You, on the other hand, ‘Tica, has been far too long in my radar, I can’t wait for some tasting. So give me the kind of agreement I like, and I might spare his life. Besides, isn’t this is the man that introduces you with Titan? Don’t you feel guilty, boy? You cause them to split. If only they didn’t meet, don’t you think all these messes won’t happen in the first place?”

The blast was intense. It gives Joe the effect of a flashbang. For a brief moment, he almost clawed you to death; since he’s Pterodactyl. Only when your bare hand touch his face, the skin to skin contact helped him knows that it is you. All your memories with Gwilym, every sensation, he feels it too. As much as drag it is to wear rubber gloves all the time, this is exactly the reason why sometimes having the power of investigation more of a curse instead of a gift. But he also feels it too, the feelings keep flowing from your hand that’s not yet part from his face. Your genuine need for him to stop feeling guilty over Gwilym and your break up, to the point of anger and annoyance. As he regains his sight, the first thing he sees is you and your warm feelings towards him. If only, if only this ability allows you to also feel what he’s feeling.

“That’s why you don’t monologue as a villain.” You grinned cheekily after making sure you’ve fully healed him. “Let’s go, we’re close to Titan. We can’t lose him anymore, not after two years of chasing him.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him up. He dusted off debris from his suit and finally answered. “Right.”

He’s not the one that just got smashed by Violet’s pink energy spark, but his life flashes before his eyes. He didn’t realize it until he sees Violet falls on her knees and dropped lifelessly. Headless. Your kill shot was so famous for killing Behemoth that every villain quickly investing in an anti-energy attack protective suit. Even Titan himself upgraded his entire armour despite the chance of receiving such attack from his ex-lover is as slim as Violet’s and Pink’s chance of survival against her. That’s also why you can track him; how every line pointed at the mad engineer that found and invent the material to endure almost any type of energy attack.

“You’re the one that kills her girlfriend, why am I the one that always almost gets killed?” Joe’s attempt to joke whilst down and hurt almost makes you forget Titan is still there, waiting for his runaway vehicle. “Look! You’re fucking spotless!”

“Three more.” Your guttural growl was not taken kindly by the rest of the three villains in your way of capturing Titan. “Come at once, cowards!”

The battle was outright sadistic. The sight of Gwilym in his new suit burn the rage in you, and his absence in the battle makes you both glad and humiliated at the same time. You don’t care how tired you are from all your previous battles, you just have to be there and keep him long enough until reinforcement come, approximately in twenty-five minutes.

“You know you don’t have to kill all of them, right?” Joe playfulness helps you calmed down after the bloodbath.

“How’s your leg?” You have long given up trying to get your voice softer.

“‘Tis but a scratch!”

“You lose your left leg!”

“So?”

You half-expected that you might, after all, have to battle Titan again, but he’s standing on his ground, almost statue-like. You whispered to Joe, urge him to leave. It might take less of brute-force and more on strategy. But your ears quickly pick up Joe’s muffled scream and you turned around.

“Fucking come on!” Joe groaned as he feels the tip of the gun on his head. “Y’all mind fucking off for a second? We need to rest too you know!”

Joe’s confidence in your ability to defeat almost anything makes you smile until your eyes widened as it caught the reflection of a shot came from above.

“No more hesitation, Titan. You don’t want to oppose us.” Crossfire stand next to Gwilym. “We have no time to waste.”

But Gwilym doesn’t move an inch. His eyes always fixated upon you and only you. And now he knows the reason why. His heart stopped the moment you stooped down and on your knees. Yet you manage to add one more to your kill count today.

“Is that supposed to hurt?” You still try your best to look tough, but your body betrays you through your gritted teeth. “I will kill all of you if that means to get Gwil back in our side.”

“He was never on your side, delusional woman.” Crossfire also has his voice distorted, and you almost mistake it from Gwil. “Don’t make me shoot you too, Titan.”

Joe kneeled down next to you. Panic was visible in his voice as he talked to you.

“Why do you take that?! You don’t wear anti-energy armour! I do!” His hand touch where you take the shot. The warm liquid slowly flowing from your wound into his hand, as you try your hardest trying to heal your own wound. He feels what you feel and trying to do through your bare hand. “No no no no no—.”

“I’m fine, Joe!” Your scream came out as a hoarse whine. “Let go of me! Run!”

“Y/n?!” Gwil screamed.

Joe's face turned pale as you dropped on the ground. He no longer feels anything from touching you. He shakes your body to no reaction. He turned your body to see your current state. The emptiness he felt as he fully grabbed onto your hand and your face makes his stomach churned. He throws himself away from you and vomits on the ground. The overwhelming turmoil inside him almost stops him to try and collect himself, but a loud bang noise that makes him jump successfully awaken him from the overflowing emotions. The shot from Crossfire, completely deflected.

“That bitch use her remaining power to protect that rat! That’s why Brandon caught my bullet.” The man growled as he takes another aim, that shot also cleanly deflected. “Motherfu—.”

The choke sounded almost inhumane followed by a loud thud. Titan eyes still haven’t left now your dead body. He walks towards you and kneeled down. He takes off his gloves and reaches your face. Cold. Your eyes no longer reflected the joy of living as the defender of justice. His long fingers wiped Joe’s blood handprints on your cheeks. Just like you when you found out about Gwilym being the villain you despise the most, this time he's not one bit believed that you are dead. Something inside of him is turning as a faint blue light came out of his hands.

“She can’t be dead! She can defeat Behemoth like he was nothing and still fucking energetic! She's still alive—!”

“Shut up!!”

The blast of blue energy exploded almost beautifully on Joe’s body, but it does nothing. The men were just as shocked to see that your energy turned to orange as it surrounds Joe and protects him from Crossfire’s shots, dances in harmony with Gwilym’s new blue energy that cleanly kills his villain comrade. That’s why you used to be able to defeat Behemoth but have to deflect Crossfire’s shot with your own body.

“She... Gave you her power... She always knew. Yet... How come I didn’t see it when I touch her... How come she hides it away from—,” Joe looked at Gwil that still holding you, putting your head on his lap. As he combs your hair softly, the blue energy power surrounds him like an Aurora. “No... You seep it away from her you fucking monster!”

“For my gift is to absorb energy on the touch.” He explained in defeat. “It’s not just you that always have to wear rubber gloves. I don’t know how else to protect her from the next generation Behemoth to know that I was her lover... I—...” 

Gwil gives him a short sad glance. The strong feeling of regret even Joe could feel without touching him. Joe dropped his stare on the ground. Hands shaking in rage before it stopped immediately. He sees all his wound is healing, his lost limb although doesn't regrow, healed completely.

“You did this and I hope you have to live with that guilt for the rest of your life, Gwil. If you don’t fucking avenge her, I will make sure she don’t waste her life and power on the both of us.”

The two energy that was at first was flowing together in harmony, not yet fully controlled by their new owner, now clashed like lightning on a giant black storm cloud. To match the hostile stare down of the two men and their rocky future to live up to your legacy.

End.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Hitman Bodyguard: Chapter 7

Read on Ao3

With a long, exhausted sigh, Bucky dug out his keys from a forgotten pocket of his duffel bag and opened the door to his LA apartment, dropping all of his luggage right inside the door.  Kicking the door closed behind him, he turned on the lights and reminded himself of what his own apartment looked like; it seemed cramped, now, and shabby, but that was only because it can’t compare to what a billionaire could buy.  Bucky had nice things, because the bodyguard business paid well, but he didn’t see much point spending a lot of the money on a place he rarely stayed.

Which reminded him – he checked to see if Ms. Potts had replied to his email, which had taken him hours on the train to compose: Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark and I have come to a mutual agreement to terminate the bodyguard contract. Then came a lot of politely worded “thank you for your business” and “please contact me if you need anything else” and all that other boilerplate speak that came with being a professional.   He’d sent it days ago, on the train as they passed through Montana, but she hadn’t answered yet. He had, however, gotten his paycheck, prorated to the day that he’d walked out of Tony’s tower, so he wasn’t going to have to worry about looking for a new gig soon.  Or anytime, really; the job with Tony had paid out in six figures every two weeks, but he knew from experience that having nothing to do was the fastest way for him to start spiraling, so.

He’d give himself a week. No, two. Two weeks to feel sorry for himself, two weeks to see if what had happened in New York would leak and force him to leave “James Buchanan” behind, then he’d start looking around for a new job.  Probably not another bodyguard contract; he didn’t think he was up for spending that much time around someone that wasn’t Tony, but he’d done well as a security consultant in the past and a desk job sounded…restful.  Undemanding.

With a desultory examination of his freezer, Bucky called in for Chinese food and collapsed on the couch, scrolling through his watch list on Netflix.  Usually in his downtime he liked watching historical documentaries, catching up on what he missed over the decades, but after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed a blanket and turned on Sharknado 6.

(More after the break!)

Days later, he, like the rest of America, woke up in the morning to see news of the devastation in Sokovia.  He wanted to call or text or write Tony, but every time he picked up his phone, the thought of it felt horribly presumptuous. Desperate.  How could he say how are you without also saying I miss you, or say I’m sorry without adding I hope I hear from you soon,  so in the end he didn’t say anything.

Unfortunately, even after the Ultron disaster slowly faded from national consciousness – it was all the way on the other side of the planet, after all, world-wide repercussions notwithstanding – Tony still didn’t come find him.  Two weeks turned into a month when Bucky had realized, foolish though it may had been, that he’d been hoping Tony would come for him after Ultron.

When he woke up on the couch for the third day in a row, eyes gritty and mouth like cotton, he realized that he had to get up and start getting over it.  So he dragged himself off the couch and showered, then while he brushed his teeth he cleaned his bathroom.  Getting dressed turned into cleaning up his bedroom, including pulling the sheets off his bed and throwing them in the washer.  He got all the dishes into the dishwasher and the trash out to the dumpster before he ran out of steam and ended up back on the couch.

Maybe I should take a trip, Bucky thought as he stared at the ceiling. Something overseas, so he wouldn’t feel like he was waiting for a visit or a call that might never come.  He figured a walk would be a good start, since he hadn’t been outside for a few days, so he tugged his shoes on and walked down to the grocery store a few blocks away.  He wandered around the store aimlessly, picking up and putting down food until he finally grabbed a sandwich and ate it on the way back.

As he walked up his steps slowed at the expensive car parked in front of his building; when Tony got out of the car, he came to a complete stop.  Tony was dressed simply, an AC/DC shirt over jeans, but he looked tired around the eyes, mouth tense.

“Hey,” Tony said, smiling faintly at Bucky’s astonishment. “Can I, um, come in?” he asked, nodding his head towards Bucky’s apartment.

“Sure,” Bucky said, leading him up the stairs.  As he opened the door he winced, wishing he had spent more time cleaning, but it would have to be good enough.  At least it didn’t look like a multi-week depression bender anymore.  Someone with opinions on these things would probably charitably call it “lived in.”  “Do you, um, want anything?  I’ll make coffee,” he decided before Tony could answer.  He needed something for his hands to do.

“Thanks,” Tony said, taking a seat at the bar. “I wanted to come sooner, but well, Ultron.  Then there were a lot of…complications, afterwards.” Tony drummed his fingers on the bar thoughtfully.  “And I thought that, since you left the tower, you might need some space.  So I hope it’s ok that I’m here.”

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to get his heart to stop pounding as he measured out the coffee.  “Of course it’s ok, Tony.  I’ve been,” Bucky exhaled and said, “I’ve been hoping you’d come.”

Tension drained from Tony’s shoulders and he smiled. “Yeah? Good.  How have you been?”

Bucky made a face as he poured water into the coffee maker. “Not great,” he admitted. “The way we left things in New York…It feels like I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to fall.”

“Yeah, Steve wanted to come, too, but I convinced him to let me talk to you first.”

Bucky leaned against the counter and crossed his arms as the coffee maker started to burble behind him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, after the whole thing in DC, you know a bunch of HYDRA’s old files were made public.”  Bucky’s jaw tightened; he’d been worried every day that someone would find him in those files, would make the connection, but after weeks turned into months he’d eventually relaxed.  Apparently he’d relaxed too soon.  “Since you don’t like to talk about it, I’m going to tell you what I know, and you let me know if I get anything wrong,” Tony said, gaze steady. When Bucky nodded, jaw still tight, Tony said, “James Barnes was born March 10, 1917. After serving in the Army with distinction, he went missing, presumed dead, during in January 1945 during a mission in the Alps. That’s the part that everyone knows.” Tony looked down at his hands, picking at a callous there, as he continued.  “The part we are just learning about is that he was discovered at the bottom of a mountain ravine by Soviet soldiers.  He was severely injured, missing an arm and a lot of blood, so the Soviets put him into a recently invented cryogenic sleep tank until he was handed over to HYDRA and Arnim Zola.” At that, Tony’s mouth twisted with disgust.  “That’s when James Barnes disappears and the Winter Soldier takes his place.  Official reports say he assassinated over two dozen people within a fifty year span.   Including,” Tony said, still looking down at his hands as he picked his words carefully, “Howard and Maria Stark.”

“What?” When Tony looked up at him, eyes sad, Bucky said, “No. No, I didn’t…” Then a memory came out of nowhere, a white-haired man on his knees, face bloody and eyes dismayed as he said “Sargeant Barnes?”  Suddenly bile backed up in Bucky’s throat and he barely made it to the bathroom before he was throwing up.

“Bucky!” He tried to wave Tony away but he wouldn’t leave, kneeling beside him with a hand on his back.  When he was done, a wet washcloth appeared and he gratefully put the cool cloth against his face.  “I’m sorry,” Tony said, sliding down the wall to sit next to Bucky on the tile floor.  “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t realize you didn’t remember. I know about the brainwashing, I know it wasn’t you that-”

“Of course I didn’t remember,” Bucky rasped, throat raw. “How could you think that I would – I would get anywhere near you if I had remembered killing your parents? Sit next to you on the couch, get to know you, sleep under your roof, the whole time knowing I murdered your family?”

The silence that followed was a little sheepish, so Bucky pulled the washcloth away from his eyes to look at Tony. “I, um, thought it was maybe atonement?  Like, you realized you were forced to kill my parents and decided to save my life to make up for it?” Tony ran his hands through his hair, looking embarrassed. “When I say it out loud it sounds dumb.  I guess I have been watching too many cheesy movies.”

“No, it’s not dumb.” Bucky realized he was staring at Tony with what was probably lovesick awe so he dragged his gaze down to where his hands where tight around the washcloth.  “It’s…” Sweet. Kind. And 100% something Tony would do.  “Thank you. For not thinking the worst of me.”

“Bucky.”  Tony’s eyes softened. “I know who you are as a person, ok? You may have hid your past, but you couldn’t hide who you are.”

“A wreck?” Bucky said ruefully.

Tony elbowed him in the side.  “A hell of a survivor, for one thing. I was held by the Ten Rings for six months and I’m still really fucked up about it.  You were held by Hydra for almost fifty years, but you…”

“But I…?” Bucky prodded, but Tony shook his head and kept his mouth shut, and Bucky could see that the tips of his ears were red, which, despite everything, sparked a ball of warmth under Bucky’s ribs.

“Let’s get out of the bathroom,” Tony said instead, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to lever himself to his feet. “I still want that coffee.”

Tony made himself at home, digging out coffee cups while Bucky brushed his teeth again, then this time when he sat down Tony took a spot on the couch. “So I saw that you canceled the bodyguard contract,” Tony said as Bucky sat down beside him. “That’s good.”

Bucky’s eyebrow furrowed, a little stung. “Yeah?  Why?”

“Because as long as you were being paid to stick around, I couldn’t ask you out on a date. Workplace harassment, you know.”  Tony smiled at him over the top of his coffee cup.  “But now…Oh my God!” Tony suddenly sat up straight, eyes widening. “Does this mean you will finally let me look at your arm?”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

My Eyes - Part 6

Pairing: Bucky; Steve x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,721

Story Description: Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.

Story takes place post “CA: CW” and all tension has been resolved.

Previously On...

                                           2 YEARS LATER

Despite Fury’s threats, Bucky tried to find Y/N. He exhausted all of his resources. When he couldn’t sleep, which was far too often, he would try to find her. After the first few months, he even tried calling her family. But either Fury or Y/N had already thought of that and must’ve changed all their contact info.

The rest of the team was so heartbroken by Y/N abandoning them that they couldn’t find the energy to go looking for her. They didn’t think she wanted to see them anyway. If what she wanted was to disappear, they decided to let her.

Bucky obviously didn’t see it the same way. Months turned into a year and then the year turned into another year. Eventually, Bucky ran out of leads.

Without the objective of finding Y/N and without Steve, Bucky had never felt so lost. He handled it the only way he knew how: fighting. He took on every mission that was offered. Bucky volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, offering to go unaccompanied and lowering the risk of anyone else getting hurt. Everyone knew what he was doing.

After a year of it, Sam intervened. He’d seen just about everything when it came to how soldiers dealt with the loss of a loved one. After countless yelling matches, Sam finally convinced Bucky to see a therapist. Even with the impossible hole Steve left in Bucky’s life, Sam tried his hardest to fill it. The dangerous missions didn’t stop, but at least Bucky could talk about why he was doing it with a professional.

It was a hot summer night in upstate New York. The sound of grasshoppers and other lively critters used to be comforting. But now they gave Bucky another excuse for being restless. He decided to go for a run in the surrounding forest. He didn’t return until 20 miles later, at 3 o’clock in the morning.  

Bucky was surprised to find Natasha standing in the grassy opening outside the compound. She was wearing a cotton robe and had her infamous smirk on her lips. It was obvious she had been expecting him.

“You put a tracker on me, Romanoff?” Bucky huffed, still trying to catch his breath from sprinting the last couple of miles.

“Your habits are too predictable for me to ever need one.” She replied.

Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt, just baggy shorts and running shoes.  An iPod was strapped to his bicep. It used to be Steve’s. Bucky suspected that Y/N had been the one to fill it with music since it was organized in playlists based of their genre and/or era. He’d grown pathetically attached to it.

“Did you need something?” Bucky asked bluntly, not trying to be rude but knowing she didn’t just happen to be outside in the middle of the night.

“Fury left a little bit ago.” She said as if she hadn’t heard his question.

“That so?” Bucky hummed uninterested, putting his hands on his hips.

“This is the only area that doesn’t have audio surveillance and I can easily erase the video footage after.” Nat stated.

Bucky was now slightly more interested. “Romanoff, what the hell is going on? Are you planning on killing me and hiding the body?”

With that wicked side smirk, Nat stepped forward and held out a piece of paper to him.

Bucky took it without breaking her gaze. When he glanced down, there were coordinates written down in Natasha’s flawless handwriting.

“That’s where she is.” Nat clarified.

It took Bucky a couple seconds to put together what he was actually holding. And once he did, his eyes snapped up to Nat’s in utter disbelief.  “H-How…?”

“It’s been a process. I would’ve gotten it sooner, but Nick made one hell of a firewall for me to get through. It also changed its coding every month, so there were occasions when I wasn’t fast enough to break it in time. I kept having to start over.” She explained the process so modestly, like she hadn’t just hacked into a system that was more protected than The White House.

Bucky’s grip on the thin piece of paper turned vice-like. “Nat…I-I don’t understand…Why?”

The smirk on her lips finally disappeared. “Do you remember that 4th of July after you first moved here? We forced Steve to celebrate his birthday. But he would only agree if it was just the team, that way Y/N could be with him.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, but he nodded.

“It’s always the moment I go to when I try to think about when we were altogether and just being…happy.” Nat sighed as she got a dazed look. “Tony, of course, managed to get all of those ridiculous fireworks to be set off at midnight. We were all watching them. But I just happened to glance at you. And right when I did, you were looking at Y/N. She was in Steve’s arms, staring up at the sky. We all were. That’s how I almost missed it. I must be getting rusty, because it took me almost a year to catch you. I must admit, you were good at hiding it… because I never caught it ever again. Everything else made sense after that: why you never talked to her and how, when you did, you were so unfriendly.”

Bucky’s hands were clutched into fists. Then he looked at the ground in shame. “Do you-…Nat, do you think he knew?” He barely had the courage to ask.

“I don’t think so.” She assured him.

Then Nat was closing the distance between them. Her hand lightly cupped his cheek, bringing his head up. “I’m sorry you lost both of them. I didn’t know how else to help without upsetting you. This was all I could think of.” She gestured to his flesh fist that was protecting the piece of paper.

“Fury’s not going to be happy with you.” Bucky warned.

She shrugged. “Let me handle Fury.”

Bucky stared down at the numbers, memorizing them without realizing it.

“Hey…” Nat softly grabbed his attention. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. I just thought you should have it.”

Bucky had been so focused on looking for Y/N that he never thought about what he would do when he finally found her.

---

                                        ONE YEAR LATER

It took him another year just to have the courage to finally jump in a car and go.

The coordinates put Y/N’s location in the middle of Montana. She sure hadn’t messed around when it came to seclusion. It took Bucky over a day just to cross the state lines. He knew he could’ve borrowed a jet, no questions asked. But he needed the drive to calm his nerves and help him think of what he would actually say.

Bucky’s hands started shaking over the steering wheel when his mind drifted to Steve. Guilt seeped into the forefront of his mind when he remembered a conversation they’d once had.

Steve and Bucky had been flying a jet back from a mission that just needed the two of them. It was an easy in and out. But that didn’t stop the relief they both had as they took the journey back home.

Steve’s cellphone was ringing with constant text message alerts. They must finally have service and he was receiving all of them at once now.

Steve asked for Bucky to grab it for him since he was flying the jet.

“They’re all from Y/N.” Bucky informed him without looking at them. “And one’s from Sam telling you a spoiler from the Game of Thrones episode the other night.” Bucky chuckled.

Steve smiled at that. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Game of Thrones? You better not. I haven’t started the damn thing yet.” Bucky groaned.

“No…” Steve smiled, but there was a new seriousness in his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you about Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I know you two still haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other.” Steve prefaced. “But I just need to ask you something man to man.”

Bucky swore he was sweating. Had Steve figured everything out? He sounded so pleasant. But of course Steve would still be pleasant, even after finding out his best friend was in love with his girl.

“If anything were to ever happen to me… Can you promise me you’ll look after Y/N?” Steve glanced over at Bucky, jaw clenched.

Bucky felt a wave of relief. “Steve, that’s never going to happen.”

But Steve was expecting this situation. “We didn’t think we’d both become super soldiers. Neither of us ever expected to live past the new millennium, Buck. We don’t really know what’s going to happen.”

Bucky knew he had a point.

“I just need some peace of mind that she won’t be alone. I shoved this life onto her and I know it’s not fair that I can’t always promise a forever… at least not really. Just make sure you look after her. I know I’m asking a lot Bu-”

“Of course I will, Steve. You never even had to ask.” Bucky cut him off.

“When she moves on…” Steve looked down at the thought. “Please make sure he’s a good guy. She deserves that, especially after dealing with me.”

Bucky reached over and gripped Steve’s soldier. “Steve, I promise. Nothing would ever happen to her.” And his words rang true.

But Bucky drove to Y/N fully knowing he had broken his promise to his best friend. The optimistic or self-indulgent part of his brain (he couldn’t figure out which) told him that it wasn’t his fault Fury hid Y/N so well. But the devil on his shoulder told him that he hadn’t tried hard enough.

---

Y/N jumped awake as her tablet started ringing an alarm on her nightstand. Her heart raced as she realized it was alerting her of an intruder. She lived in a small cottage on a huge piece of land. The dirt road had multiple warnings about trespassing and it could not have been clearer that whoever lived on the property would alert authorities… or just shoot them.

Of all the time she’d lived there, nobody had ever tripped Y/N’s sensors. She lived so removed from society that no one even accidentally ventured far enough into her property to get an alarm. It just added more anxiety to Y/N as she whipped the covers off her body.

Porthos jumped awake and as he heard her shuffling to the vault in her closet. He growled when he spotted her pulling the rifle out.

“Come on, boy.” Y/N commanded as she raced down the stairs.

She opened the front door and saw headlights moving through the trees. Whoever was in the car, they were driving with too much of a purpose. They knew she was here and they were looking for her. There was no way someone, who was just lost, would get this far.

Y/N put the rifle to her dominant eye and placed the butt of it against her shoulder. She tried to calm her breathing. Porthos growled at the car, ready to protect his master as soon as it was necessary.

Y/N cursed to herself when she realized that if the person got out of the car, they would have the advantage of their headlights blinding her.

The car stopped, making Y/N’s heart beat even faster.

The headlights were right in her face, almost obscuring her from seeing even a silhouette.

“You’re trespassing on private property!” Y/N called out. “Legally, I can shoot you right now…so I advise you get back in your car and head back to the main road.” Her gun was aimed. Perhaps not well, but it would definitely do damage.

Porthos let out some terrifying snarls to add to her threat.

“When the hell did you learn how to shoot a gun?” The intruder asked.

Porthos suddenly whined and the ridges on his back relaxed. He knew that voice. The dog sniffed the air and then bolted towards the person.

“No, Porthos!” Y/N yelled, but kept her gun to her eye. However just as she yelled her command, she caught a shimmer on the person’s left arm. Even at night, without so much as a streetlight, she could tell they had a metal arm.

“Bucky?” Y/N whispered. Her gun lowered a little bit.

He was crouched down to his knee now and petting Porthos, who was attacking his face with kisses. The car’s headlights must have been on a timer once the engine was off, because they finally dimmed.

Y/N blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness once again.

“Doll, can you please put the gun down? At least for Porthos’ sake?”

Y/N was in disbelief as she reluctantly lowered her rifle.

“What-What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Her voice was so disconcerted that it sent a wave of guilt to Bucky’s gut.

“Nat helped.” Bucky admitted sheepishly.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Y/N gaze darkened.

Bucky was finally walking toward her now. She didn’t seem to like this at all and walked backwards toward the steps of the front porch. Her expression was anxious while still remaining disconcerted from his intrusion.  

Bucky misinterpreted it as fear. She was scared of him. He held up his hands in surrender, hoping it would ease the worry on her face.

Y/N was a few steps inside her house, the gun still hanging tightly at her side. “Bucky, please, just go.” She begged him. Her eyes held no welcome, somehow stopping him from entering the home. So his large frame stood right outside.

“Y/N,” His voice was so soft. “I just came to check on you.”

Her jaw clenched at that. “I don’t need to be checked on. I don’t want to be… that’s why I disappeared.” Her eyes darkened. “Thought everyone would have taken the hint.”

Bucky opened his mouth to defend himself.

“Mommy?” A tiny and tired voice said behind Y/N. Porthos ran around Bucky to get to the child and give him a greeting by licking his face. The boy was so small that he made the dog look like a giant wolf.

Y/N’s eyes shut in defeat for a moment. But then she quickly shoved the gun into Bucky’s grasp before the child could see. Bucky caught on and hid it against the wall on the outside of the house, away from the boy’s view.

Bucky looked beyond Y/N to see the little boy. His heart stopped when he saw a carbon copy of Steve Rogers. The child had the same sandy hair and baby blue eyes. Even the tired, yet inquisitive expression was Steve’s.

“Jimmy, you’re not supposed to be out of bed.” Y/N reprimanded, but her tone was still gentle.

The little boy ignored his mother’s scolding. “Who is that?”

Y/N lifted him up into her arms and angled her body so Bucky was no longer in his view. But he still tried to twist around in his mother’s hold to look. Y/N disappeared around the corner and up a flight of stairs.

Bucky was frozen in place, unable to move his body.

Y/N returned a few minutes later. He saw her hand tremble as it ran anxiously through her hair. She took in a deep breath, clearly going through too many feelings and contemplations in her head. Finally she eyed Bucky, who still stood outside the house.

“You can come in, Bucky.” She sighed.

He didn’t move. “Jimmy?” It was practically a whisper.

“It’s short for James.” She shrugged innocently.

“Yes, I know what it’s short for.” He responded softly. “Y/N…I thought-you said you were going to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I know. You deserve an explanation, I know.” Y/N admitted. “Please, can you just come inside?”

This finally broke Bucky’s daze. He slowly stepped into the tiny house and closed the front door behind him.

“Fuck, I need a drink.” Y/N muttered to herself.

Next thing Bucky knew, the two of them were sitting at the dinner table with beers in both of their hands. Y/N’s eyes were distant as she mindlessly messed with the paper logo on the bottle. Bucky just watched her patiently, waiting for her to start talking when she was ready.

“I was going to do it.” She finally muttered. “I was at the appointment. They were about to do the procedure and I just panicked. I realized that he was the only thing I had left of Steve. I-I started crying. I completely freaked out the doctors as I sobbed that I couldn’t go through with it. And… that was it.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Bucky asked.

“My family knew.” Y/N defended, finally lifting her gaze up to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He corrected.

“Because I was mad at all of you, I was mad at your world. I thought if I bring a child into this life, I don’t want them to ever be a part of that.” Y/N didn’t mean to sound angry, but the words still hurt. “It was what that took Steve’s life.”

Bucky realized she was holding on by a thread. He felt even guiltier for his arrival. She tried to protect her and Steve’s child from danger and here Bucky came, bringing it right to her doorstep.  

“You named him James?” Bucky asked tenderly, trying to change the subject.

Y/N gave a shy smirk. “James Wilson Y/L/N.”

Bucky smiled at that. He knew Sam would probably try to hide the tears if he ever found out that Y/N named the boy after the two of them.

“I think it’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/N wasn’t present in the room anymore. A few tears slid down her cheek. But she quickly wiped them away and sniveled. “Sorry… I haven’t talked about it in so long. Seeing you just reminds me of him so much.”

Bucky suddenly felt like there was no good he was doing here. He disrupted the sanctuary Y/N had created for not only her son, but also herself. The longer he stayed, the worst he was going to make their lives.

Suddenly he stood up. It was so abrupt that it made Y/N jump slightly.

“You’re right.” Bucky admitted. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He started walking toward the door.

Y/N rushed after him. “Bucky, wait!” He paused.

“The nearest motel is almost four hours away.” She warned him.

“It’s fine. I can sleep in my car.”

Y/N grabbed his shoulder. “It’s supposed to storm real bad. I’m not going to let you sleep in your car. You drove all the way here. God knows how long it took you. Buck…you can at least spend the night.”

Bucky read her expression for a moment. “I spent all this time trying to find you. But I never even considered the reasons for why you would want to hide in the first place.”

Y/N nodded. “I know you’re here because you feel you owe it to Steve.” It was the excuse she told herself that made her offer for him to stay. “Come on, you can sleep on the couch.” She added before he could say anything on the matter.

---

Y/N managed to sleep soundly. Maybe it was because she knew her and Jimmy were safe while Bucky was downstairs. But her sleep was interrupted when a crack of thunder practically shook the small house. Her eyes snapped open.

Jimmy would be sprinting into her room at any moment. He was terrified of thunderstorms, no matter how many times she assured him that they couldn’t hurt them. After the first fearsome thunder, he always came crawling into her bed like clockwork.

That’s why Y/N was confused when she hadn’t heard his little feet scurrying down the hallway to her bedroom. She must have fallen back asleep because the storm had been going on for some time now.

Y/N decided to go to Jimmy’s bedroom and check on him.

But his door was open and his bed was empty. Y/N would have panicked if she hadn’t heard voices from downstairs, in the kitchen.

She tiptoed down the steps, hoping to eavesdrop before they noticed her interruption.

“I used to be scared of thunderstorms…” Y/N heard Bucky say. In that moment, she realized she’d never seen him interact with a child.

“When you were a kid?” Jimmy asked curiously.

“Yeah, but even as an grown-up.” Bucky admitted lightly. But Y/N caught the dark truth behind his words.

“Usually I go into mommy’s room. She pretends to be scared too. So I feel like l protect her.”

Y/N smirked at her son’s cleverness.

“So why’d you come down here?” Bucky asked curiously.

Jimmy was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to spy on you.” He whispered it, like it would be less of a confession that way.

“Well it’s probably good that we let your mom sleep. She’s had a rough day.”

Y/N’s amusement disappeared at that.

“Why?” Jimmy asked with the innocence of a child who didn’t know the troubles of adulthood yet.

Y/N took this as her cue to interrupt and save Bucky from answering the tough question. She turned the corner to find that the two of them were sitting at the kitchen counter with mugs of tea.

Her heart hurt at the sight. For a moment, she saw Steve and a glimpse of what a happy life would have been with the three of them together…like a family.

She smiled sadly and Bucky caught it.

“What did I say about talking to strangers, Jimmy?”

“But he’s sleeping on our couch!” Jimmy pointed out and then giggled.

Bucky gave her an apologetic look.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed after you finish your tea, trouble monster?” Y/N asked, coming up behind her son and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Jimmy just nodded, remembering the scariness of the storm as another flash of lightning hit. He chugged the rest of his tea.

“Go get comfy. I’ll be upstairs in a second.” Y/N stated.

Rain stopped the kitchen from being completely quiet as Bucky and her were left alone. Y/N leaned her forearms against the counter top, across from where he sat.

Y/N was the first to speak. “I’m sorry that he woke you up.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. He’s a sweet kid.” Bucky gave a small smile. “I can’t get over how much he looks like him.”

Y/N sighed. “If I didn’t give birth to him, I wouldn’t believe he was mine.”

“He’s got more of you than you think.” Bucky assured her.

She scoffed at that.

“He came down here to investigate me. When he saw that I was awake, he offered to make me tea… said it helped him when his mom made it for him during storms.” Bucky looked her hard in the eye. “It reminded me of you, not Steve.”

Y/N gave him a thankful look.

“I decided to take over the tea making when he was trying to climb on top of the counters to reach everything.” Bucky added with a chuckle.

A thunder crash of thunder boomed.

“Mommy!” Jimmy whined from upstairs.

Y/N stopped leaning on the counter. “That’s my cue.” She was at the edge of the kitchen when she turned around. “I’m glad you got to talk to him, Bucky.”

---

Bucky had miraculously passed out after his little tea adventure. He was shocked that the noises in the kitchen weren’t the ting that woke him. Instead it was the feeling that someone was watching him. He blinked his eyes open to see Jimmy staring at him, barely a foot away from his face.

“Mommy said to wake you up for breakfast. She said not to touch you because it might scare you.” Jimmy whispered.

Bucky chuckled at that. He slowly sat up and rubbed his face. Then he glanced over to Jimmy, who was watching him curiously.

“I like your outfit, kid.” Bucky smirked.

Jimmy was wearing a dinosaur t-shirt, a pink tutu, and yellow rain boots. He seemed very pleased by the compliment.

“Mommy’s making chocolate chip pancakes.” He stated excitedly. But it was like he was telling himself for the first time because he became thrilled and sprinted out of the living room, into the kitchen.

Bucky slowly sauntered in to find Jimmy dancing around the kitchen to the music that was softly playing.

“Morning.” He greeted through his rough voice.

Y/N gave him a shy smile. “There’s a mug for you next to the coffee pot.”

“Can I help with anything?” He offered as he poured himself some.

But Y/N just shook her head.

Bucky sat at the table, taking in the home in the daylight. It was cozy and homey. But he didn’t expect anything else from Y/N.

Jimmy must have gotten tired of dancing, because he was now sitting across from Bucky. His blue eyes studied Bucky like he hadn’t met him last night.

“Are you my dad?” Jimmy asked out of nowhere.

Y/N was putting down a plate full of pancakes right when it happened.

Bucky watched as her entire body tensed.

“No, Jimmy.” She tried to it say casually.

Y/N gave Bucky a warning look, making sure he didn’t intervene.

“This is your Uncle Bucky.” Y/N added.

“Why is your arm metal?” Jimmy quickly moved onto another subject.

“Jimmy!” Y/N scolded. “That’s a very rude question to ask!” Bucky tried to give her a face that said it was all right. But she wasn’t having any of it.

Jimmy, suddenly looked very sad and disappointed in himself. He hadn’t realized it was rude until someone pointed it out. Now he felt bad. “I’m sorry for being rude.” He blubbered, eyes cast down.

“It’s okay, bud.” Bucky tried to reassure him. “I lost my arm in an accident awhile ago. This is just a prosthetic.”

“It’s really cool.” Jimmy commented honestly.

This made Bucky grin.

They ate breakfast with zero awkwardness. Jimmy kept telling story after story to his mom. Most of it was mindless and a lot of it didn’t make any sense. But Y/N paid close attention. Jimmy seemed to accept Bucky’s presence very easily, behaving how he usually did when it was just him and his mom.

After breakfast, Jimmy was playing in the living room without a care. Bucky offered to clean up since Y/N had made breakfast. He ignored her when she argued that she could do it herself.

“You haven’t told him anything about Steve?” Bucky asked as he washed the dishes and Y/N dried.

Her eyes turned down and she shook her head. “He understands that he doesn’t have a dad. He goes to friends’ houses for play dates and realizes that there’s another person there that he doesn’t have. But he doesn’t know anything about the Avengers or superheroes. We don’t have cable and he doesn’t go on the internet. He’s seen pictures and stuff at stores… but he just thinks they’re make believe.”

Bucky stopped washing dishes for a moment and gripped the edge of the sink. He looked over at her with a serious gape. “You can’t keep it a secret from him forever, Y/N. He deserves to know who his father is.”

“Not until he can keep it a secret.” Y/N defended. He gave her a disapproving look. “Bucky, if people found out Steve Rogers had a son… do you know how dangerous that would be?” She chucked the towel on the counter in frustration. “We couldn’t even bury him because of what he was! Steve kept me so hidden... Do you think he’d want to the world to know about his son?”

“Y/N, we’d never let anything happen to either of you. I’m going to keep you safe.” Bucky’s expression was so soft and affectionate. It surprised Y/N. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out.

“Mommy? There’s a red robot in the yard.” Jimmy called out.

They looked at him in confusion.

Then they both realized who it was and snapped back to each other’s gaze.

“Goddammit, Stark.”  Bucky almost growled.

Y/N hurried over to grab Jimmy.

“Y/N, stay in the house.” Bucky ordered before going out the front door.

---

Part 7

Please message, reblog, whatever. Because I need constant validation HAHAHA. 

[acrouge-walkintwoworlds]

Walk in Two Worlds: Chapter #12

Incoming message

Holy Hell, to has been a long time! Sorry we haven’t reached you sooner friend, we had to loose out scent for months due to a series of events. Seemed Bishop and Griffon have been in need of extra assistance for my scholarly works of the two new animus machines that Abstergo had produced. We even have been gathering witness from survivors of the “imprisonment of one of the private research centers in the southwest close to the Mexican/American border.

So now with Abstergo focused on more problems related to Hurricane Harvey destroying a warehouse that destroyed the newest research plans; fortunately, our spies and trusted allies have already scanned the plans as Harvey was in vain trying to push it’s citizens out of the city.

God. Those poor souls…

But, we must be brief. I’m glad your well, as far as I can tell. I could be wrong. Regardless, I’ve managed to steal not only a bit of the Katie Shepard files, but a bit of the Hellen Patterson files as well. I suppose after the last session of the memory of Katie’s birthday, Abstergo probably thought that Katie would be of little use. So those memories have been collecting cyber dust for the months we’ve been absent. Until that Norwegian bastard gets o our track, we get into the files of these women. Probably Hellen’s files should be played first since Abstergo probably hasn’t figured out her connection yet.

End of Message

__________________

The smell of cooked beans and smoked game filtered the air. Hellen was begging in her mind to have a whiskey now more then ever, as one of Jame’s men stitched the wound from her arm.

“From the maps I read, this creek, Brushy Creek comes from the Missouri river. So you should be safer riding along upstream.” Hellen turned her horse as Frank pointed the other boys the direction of the creek. “Hold on.”  Hellen turned in her saddle, and Jesse threw a flask and a small leather purse from his saddle bag towards Hellen. She caught it, and looked to see a sum of cash, and opened the flask to smell the rich wooden smell of whiskey. “I know it’s not Irish tradition, but Kansas City can make the finest.” James tipped his hat towards her. “Consider this even, for ridding our trail from those men.” “Here here.” Hellen replied before taking a shot’s worth down her throat.  

“Jesse, I know you have a family to look after, but you need to flee Kansas City. With you coming out of “retirement”, they will follow every suspicion leading to you and Frank’s family. “Hmm.” Jesse rubbed his chin in thought. “Saint Joseph would be the closet to train routes. Better consider that before my little ones question their daddy more.” “Come to think of it, ain’t you suppose to be keeping an eye on those gals of yours up in Montana?” Frank asked, eating a chunk of deer liver. Hellen shook her head and smiled, “Maggie could handle the Dusty Rose just fine.” Some of the men chuckled and one of them with a thick southern accent commented, “Sure right y’all. Considering how the “Virgin Madame” can go in and out without men missing her. You know how much money men would pay for ya.” “Oh sure, a skinny little undercover assassin with a torn up ear and a temper of a bobcat, that also takes in being a madame and a bounty hunter is worth getting money for.”

When Hellen finished her meal, she saddled her horse and packed her saddle bags, including the manuscript’s pages safely in her boot as well. “Hellen.” Frank called out. “Keep an eye over your shoulder. They say that this, McGriffon is in for your head.” Hellen shook her head, understanding what Frank was talking about. “That bastard will have to catch me first. But thanks.” Hellen spurred her stallion around as she headed south towards the settlement of Kearney.

_____________________________-

That’s it for that memory I’m afraid. It seems more out of pace since the DNA sample was old. But it’s enough to get ’’s bloodhounds in a different source of data while you contain Katie’s memories in the USB files. I will say though, things are getting more epic as Katie goes further in this mess she’s in.

End of Message

Chapter #12

August 9th, 1757 River Valley, New York

With her hidden blades upon her wrists and her mind full of awareness, Katie followed Liam as the scouted the wooden areas of the River Valley. The past four months had been one of mass effects of complications among the assassins. For one, one of their traders who was also a hidden informant was mysteriously killed with any identification of the culprit going into the other side with him.

Following with hearing an enraged and frustrated Hope as she had to explain to Achilles that many of the factories that carried explosives and gases that were to be of use against the templars through her gangs were involved in a mass explosion. And to make matters worse, she never received the results of an experiment she was involved with Benjamin Franklin when they were suppose to meet. Katie unfortunately was the one who found out that she saw Dr. Franklin aboard a ship for Philadelphia at the hour of the meeting that he was suppose to meet.

A month prior, when Achilles summoned Katie to the homestead, he and Liam made the decision that Katie was ready for in field work and presented her the last set of robes that Miss Abigale ever made before the fever both claimed her and Connor. She was also presented with a pair of hidden blades that were obviously an upgrade with a new rope dart and a lever that made the made shirt into a dagger with a turn of the index. Katie could of sworn that she saw Liam beamed with pride underneath the seriousness he had to place when in presence of the mentor.

Liam and Katie then boarded upon a ship to reach the River Valley, where she aided in the fight, and to help heal the wounded natives and french soldiers that joined the fight. the Abenaki allies, lead by French General lLouis-Joseph de Montcalm plotted to ambush the Colonel and his men as they retreated from their own fort. Katie never really paid attention to the war, nor knew the reason for the war. All she knew that it involved the french and the iritis crown and the subjects of dear King Georgie. The only detail that she did pay attention to was the fact that Kesegowaase decided to use this to his advantage and led the attack in the hopes of assassinating Monro. As the Native assess in left, Katie felt a quick breath as she realized, that the Colornal would die this day. Liam placed a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Liam giving a nod and a light grip as to say, “I know what your thinking.” before talking to a few other master assassins. But Katie diverted herself by aidding the soldiers, even though her body was lacking from wash and lack of sleep.

“Hold still!” She scolded on a young soldier, who’s arm was bleeding aggressively after a musket ball rested in it. “Can’t help it miss. Hursts like hell!” The young soldier complained. “The only thing you’ll be complain about is the lack of one if you don’t stand still.” Katie’s eyes hardened with concentration as she pressed the wounds hard as she wrapped it. Liam was looking upon a map upon a larger man shift table of trees and bark. He peeked around only to chuckle when seeing Katie’s struggle with the lad.

He must think I’m a gesture wrestling a snake. Katie thought as she finished tying the wraps upon the arm. The lad thanked her and went to his comrades in arms. It was by then, a series of shouts caught her attention.

Two french soldiers were assisting Kesegowaase, the native assassin was barely keeping his head up as his feet dragged on the ground. His long braids covered his face, and Katie could see upon the tanned deer skin shirt a trail of blood. Katie called out to Liam as they ran towards their comrades.

“Heavens above and below, what happened?” Katie asked, looking upon the assassin’s scared and bloodied face that indicated that he was close to an explosion.

Liam turned to Katie, “Do you have anything that could ease the pain?” Katie nodded, straightened herself upright and ran to her saddlebags. She pulled out various salves, herbs, and cloths into a larger cloth. She barked at a french soldier to fetch a pale of water from the stream and pour some in the cast-iron pot in the cook fire ring.

The two assassin’s assisted the wounded native against a tree. Liam lifted Kasogwase’s head slowly. The assassin’s face as Katie examined the damage further. The face was blistered and reddened with burns accompanying with cut skin from possible shards of wood, some streams of blood went down upon the master assassin’s face. the skin was so inflated that Katie could feel the heat through the dampen cloth as she cleaned his face. As she preformed her work, Liam asked the native warrior again, “What the hell happened to you? Surely Monro didn’t set this, he’s too…”  

“He lives! He’d survived! And now…he has sided with the templars!”

Katie nearly dropped the salve container, her eyes widened like a doe being exposed. Kesegowaase saw him?! She had to focus on her work, keeping her eyes focused on the possible second degree burns on the master assassin’s face. She prayed to God silently that no one would noticed the panic upon her face, especially Kasogwase. But she had to know.

“Who?” Katie asked, trying to hide the desperation in her voice and face.

The native coughed a moment before a scarp answer filtered by pain joined with anger. “Shay…”

Katie dared to look at the Liam with the corner of her eye as her master’s face widened with surprise. “What?” He breathed a pained whisper that made Hellen froze in place.

Deciding to play the dumb card, Katie was brave enough in an innocent curiosity asked, “Shay? Wasn’t that the name of the assassin who…”

“I need a moment with Kasogwase Katie! Please…just…tend to the others. I’ll let you know what is happening when we figure this out.” Liam’s face was torn betweenez surprise and anger. A look that made Katie feel frightened, as if she came across a sleeping predator. Yet, she nodded and turned to tend to the other wounded soldiers.

As Katie worked, she talked to the soldiers, asking them what happened. One of them finally explained that Kasogwase ranged an open attack on Monro, disputes the fact than Mancaul offered Monro and the British terms of surrender. Then as they chased after the Colonial and his men with the lone man, assumedly Shay in Katie’s mind, hand shot a barrel fun of gun power to the native and his men. Katie felt sick as she heard these stories. Not at the fact that Shay is truly capable of harm; yet she began to see a matter that had been bugging her for years that she needed to discuss Liam with before addressing the mentor.

Later that evening, Katie was staring upon the fire writing hard, yet hesitant. As she wrote her reports for Achilles, Katie’s thoughts and fears were crashing upon her mind. Why would Shay turn on one of his own? Former own now. This was not the man she’d known he could be capable of! Of course, Shay never expects the idea of Katie an assassin; therefore, Katie knew that her life and the brotherhood’s depended on her keeping her secrets contained.

Liam walked up towards the fire and sat right next to her. He handed her a long strip of dried deer meat. She took it with a thanks, and chewed on the gamey meat. Liam looked up into the night sky, thousands of stars gleamed and glittered. A shooting star made a long trail across the dark canvas, until it disappeared into the darkness. Liam smiled, he knew what to wish for from what Katie saw. He looked at the corner of his eye to see Katie chewing the meat, and writing the reports. Her hair glowed redder by the flames. Resulting in this young woman to be more deadly and dangerously beautiful. Liam took a log and threw it in the middle of the fire. It was also a diversion from the thoughts and feelings that resulted after learning about Shay.

“I need you to confirm and add your testimony in this report. Most of the soldiers only gave me the logical of what happened.” Katie lifted her eyes and turned to look at her master. “So will you please tell me what in the Almighty one’s name is going on?” Liam’s eyes closed as he rubbed them with his two fingers. He nodded and explained to her what happened as the soldiers proclaimed, and after conferment from Kasogwase and a few scouts, that Shay Cormac, a man that Liam had grieved for over a year now is alive and standing. Bearing a templar uniform that was too familiar to him. “Katie, I need to ask you a hard question. Was your cousin buried in a long black leather jacket?” Liam looked hard upon Katie. Blue eyes meeting with green. Without thinking she answered, “Yes. Well I’m not sure. It was a closed casket service at the funeral, so I can’t say for sure. Why?”

Liam sighed and shook his head. “Sorry Katie. I assumed that…it’s late…you should get some sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. I’ll finish the report. We need to inform the Abenaki elders as well. Seemed we even lost some warriors as well”  He took the parchment and scroll from Katie ands and nodded as she lifted herself up. As she turned and walked away, Liam called her out her name. She turned and looked at the man. “What you did out there…we need that same amount of integrity and swift every moment, even in battle.” It was as close to a compliment as she could get from Liam at this point. Katie nodded and made her way to the bed roll where they’d camp. As she drifted to sleep with a pistol near by, Katie silently offered a prayer for guidance and for Shay’s safety.

[unconventional-hero]

Chapter 11-- The Plot Thickens.

Written by “Slug 5″

(In which there is a bank robbery.)

* * * * *

A year has passed. A year of infinite pleasure for Jack Morningstar. It seems so natural for this and the other one to call him “Ashton” and he has so accustomed himself to the polished ways and manners of the metropolitan that he finds himself wondering if afterall, it is the same old “Jack” who landed at the central depot in New York just a year ago.

But the aimless life, the careless, lazy, easy going life of the circle of young men into which he has been thrown, in which every day has no definite object or aim and where no thought is taken of tomorrow is far from him. He must be active; so the position he has taken as Mr. McClure’s cashier gives him both physical and mental employment. He has changed his abode to a neat but less luxurious suite of rooms on East fifty-ninth street, and walks to and from the bank. And then, too, he has need of economy-- Jim’s demands have grown large.

Jim Paxton has passed the year in the whirlpool of fashion ans still, under his sobriquet, is the “pet” of society.

Clyde is safely tucked away at Mrs. Brown’s. Ah! well, what good is there in life for some men if they can’t break a dozen hearts! Take away the most sacred thing of womanhood-- love-- basely throw it to the wind and then-- seek for more hearts to conquer!

* * * * *

“There is no use to throw away all these words Jack;  I tell you I must have it and that tonight-- tonight! man do you hear?”

Jim Paxton is seated before the cozy fire in Jack Morninstar’s parlor making demands for a financial loan which have come in frequently as late.

“And I tell you again Jim Paxton I’ll lend you no one, not even a brother, a cent to help them out of a gambling scrape!” says Jack as he walks excitedly up and down the floor.

“You won’t! You won’t d’ye say?” By-- by all the powers in hell I’ll make you! And he grinds his teeth in bitter enmity to the friend who has been far more than friend to him. “I must have the thousand and that tonight so if you’re not available old fellow-- well we’ll see-- Jim Paxton is not to be foiled yet-- and you’ll wish you had! But au revoir my fine man. It is now 1 o’clock and I’ll not bother you further.” With a mocking yet stately bow he moves to the door, lets himself down in the elevator and departs. He no sooner reaches the street than he whistles softly and the figure of a man emerges from the dark alley and joins him. He is dressed in a plain but neat looking suit of brown and low felt hat; below which a mass of silky black hair gleams in the gas light; in this garb no one would have recognized the red-haired valet of Jim Paxton, but that gentleman greets him familiarly as he reaches his side.

“Now, see here, Simon, no time is to be lost. Walk up the street a square or two with me; then take this back to the house I just left, call for ‘Mr. Ashton,’ and hand him this note-- this telegram rather. No explanation is needed; but mind now you stay in the shadow near the street door until you see him leave the house with a bundle in his hands and then lose no time in coming to me at the ‘Manhattan,’ where I will await you. Obey all my orders and a thousand of these are yours!” And he tossed a shining coin temptingly before his servant’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, trust me Mr. Morningstar! I’ll do anything for you. Shall I go now?”

“Here, yes take this.” And Jim Paxton thrusts a yellow-looking missive into the valet’s hands, and listened to his retreating footsteps as he himself turned and walked toward the hotel, with a sinister grin upon his face.

“It’ll catch the blockhead I know-- in three hours all will be done-- Ha! Ha! You’re no fool Jim Paxton!”

Jack Morningstar is still where Jim had left him; his hands on his knees deep in thought. He is greatly troubled; he despises with all his manly soul the mean traits of Jim’s character and yet he can not throw him off. He respects his hasty words. What if Jim should do something desperate to obtain the money; he felt as though he himself would be the cause of it, and he has almost made up his mind to give the money to his friend when a knock at the door startles him.

He arises hastily, flings the door open and a telegram is thrust into his hands, and the messenger departs like a flash. “For me-- what can it be-- why! why!” tearing it open and reading aloud:

“Bozeman, Montana

Sept 14 18--

Jack: Betty is dying; come quick.

Mrs. Tucker.”

He reeled backwards. “Betty! Betty! O, God, keep her alive till I get there!” He threw the telegram on the floor; jumbled a few articles into a portmanteau, snatched his hat and overcoat from the rack and started for the door. But upon reaching it he turned, walked back again to the escritoire and wrote hastily.

“Jim: Enclosed find bank note for one thousand. I leave for Bozeman tonight. Betty sick.

Jack.”

He sealed, stamped it, put it in his inside coat pocket, looked for his door and hurriedly descended to the street. A dark figure darted past him as he did so but he carefully deposited his letter in the mail box, hailed a cab and landed at the depot and in five minutes was on his westward journey, never dreaming of the conspiracy which has been so deeply laid for his destruction.

Meanwhile Simon hurries to the Manhattan where his master await him. Jim is watching for him and rises immediately upon his entrance.

“Is it all right?” he enquires hurriedly.

“All’s well,” replies the obliging valet. “Left five minutes after delivery. Baggage in hand.”

“Gone at last! By all the saints in the calendar-- here take this as part of your pay-- now follow me.” He tosses the meek looking valet a dollar and passes out into the night air.

It is the hour of two, and the part of the city through which they pass seems hushed and quiet. Now Jim Paxton speaks hurriedly to the man at his side and now he hurries on again. At last they turn down a dark forlorn looking alley and come up to the rear of the great bank of which McClure is president. They stop and peer cautiously about. All is quiet. By the selective lights within they can see the night watchman standing against a column with his back to the rear end of the room.

“Give me a lift Simon. Now’s our chance!” Jack whispers to his servant.

The valet stands erect beneath the iron barred window, and by his aid Jim Paxton mounts to the casement. One of the iron bars is loose. He discovered it by accident through the lense of his eyeglass while talking to McClure only yesterday. He inserts a chloroform syringe between the railing and then steps backward to note the effect on the watchman. A second and the man reels, staggers and falls to the floor. Jim loses no time. With a sharp hooked instrument he hastily wrenches the iron bar from its fastenings and climbs through the window; once in he fastens the bar into place again and then creeps along the floor to the watchman; gives him a double dose of the potion from the syringe makes sure he is safe, and then finds his way on hands and knees to the vaults. He has been a frequent visitor of late at the bank and while seemingly engaged in conversation with Jack and Mr. McClure has studied accurately through the powerful lense of his eyeglass the combinations and workings of the different locks therefore it is but the work of a moment to transfer a thousand dollars from the safe to his own pocket. Then he hesitates. If a thousand why not a million. The crime will be so much the heavier for Jack; for he has determined that Jack shall be implicated. Jack was supposed to be the only one of the employees who knew every combination. And his going away would cast the theft upon him immediately. So Jim Paxton snatches a larger roll of bills from the safe; puts them away carefully with the rest in his inside coat pocket; closes and adjusts the lock to its proper position; and creeps stealthily to the window again. -- The watchman stirs-- groans-- Jim is out of the window-- the bar is put back into place-- and no trace is left of robbery.

The next morning, in trimmest garb, Jim Paxton saunters leisurely down to the bank. He is cool, collected, and has an air about him of the utmost indifference. When he reaches the bank every thing is confusion; the members of the firm are standing in groups talking excitedly and the employees are hurrying to and fro. “Hello! any thing up?” he inquires of Mr. McClure as he carelessly takes his cigar from his mouth and picks up a morning paper.

“The bank last night was robbed of two million dollars!” replied Mr. McClure looking serious.

“Two million! By all the powers-- no-- Why McClure-- McClure, it can’t be!” Jim Paxton rises from his chair excitedly and stares at the banker with a look of deep commiseration.

“Yes, and what more it looks very much as if ‘Ashton’ knows something of the robbery. He has not been to the bank this morning and his rooms are deserted. They have been searched.

“No, no, not Ashton! Surely not Ashton! You must not think it of him. He’s too good, too noble.”

“So I thought, the worst men are sometimes hid in sheep’s clothing. Evidences are very much against him.”

“Poor Ashton! It can’t be that he is guilty. McClure-- I tell you it can’t be!”

“Yet I tell you he is. Every door and window was just as we left it last night-- he carried a bank key. We trusted him. And see! here is a handkerchief found in the vaults. Can you deny that does not belong to him?”

Jim examined it. On one corner was stamped in plain letters-- “Henry Ashton.” He recognized it as the one he had picked up from the floor on leaving Jack’s room the night before and which he had purposely dropped in the bank. A secret joy shot through his frame at this stroke of good luck but he looked horrified, and exclaimed in a tone of deep uncertainty;

“No, it can’t be Ashton! I’ll go search his rooms again. I may find a clue.”

He rises hat in hand and is about to depart, when his valet enters with a letter in his hands.

“Beg pardon Mr. Morningstar. A letter of importance was left for you sometime ago. You did not come so thought I’de bring it.”

“All right Simon; you needn’t stay.”

The valet departs and Jim opens the letter. It is the bank note Jack left for him the night before.

“Luck upon luck!” he feels like throwing his hat into the air and shouting, but only hands it excitedly to McClure. “You’re wrong. I told you so. He would never have written that were he guilty!”

“It is greater proof I think. I shall keep this, however, until the affair is straightened up. Where is it he says he is going, here?”

“Bozeman, Gallatin county, Montana.”

* * * * *

Meantime Jack Morningstar has reached his destination and is taking long strides up the hill to the little brown cottage which he remembers well. There are the old faded hollyhocks looking over the garden fence at him just as they used to look a year ago. He does not stop to recall old associations, however but hurriedly lifts the latch of the gate. The click of the latch startles both Betty and Mrs. Tucker and they come to the door to see who their late visitor may be.

“Why it’s Jack, ma, sure as I’m alive! O, Jack I’m so glad to see you,” and quite regardless of the fact that she is a “grown up” girl, she throws herself into his arms.

“You, Betty-- you-- but you don’t look sick-- are you-- what made you send the telegram, Mrs. Tucker?” says the astonished Jack.

“I never sent no telegram to no body, what do you mean?” and Mrs. Tucker is far more astonished than Jack.

“Didn’t send no telegram?-- What can it mean?” Jack passes his hand across his brow-- he is dazed-- “It said Betty was dying-- and your name was signed to it!”

“Mine! it’s a fraud! a conspirator! Jack Morningstar, them city dudes has got to be too much for you!”

“What does it mean? Whose work is this--” a sudden thought flashes through his brain that Jim may be the cause-- “Great Heavens! Betty, something’s wrong. I must go back to New York immediately!”

Betty claps his arm in terror. “O, Jack-- look! look!-- see there coming up the walk!”

Jack turns and sees the burly form of the city sheriff almost at his heels-- he stares in bewilderment but he has no time for reply-- that authority of the law steps up to him and clasps him firmly by the arm.

“You are wanted in New York for the robbery of the McClure bank, and I have a warrant for your arrest!”