#I take the bus to the hospital where I go med school

[unicorns-are-better]

If it’s the only way you’ll do something/do something more often, it’s the correct way to do that thing.

Hey btw, here's a piece of life advice:

If you know what you'd have to do to solve a problem, but you just don't want to do it, your main problem isn't the problem itself. Your problem is figuring out how to get yourself to do the solution.

If your problem is not eating enough vegetables, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make vegetables stop being yucky". If your problem is not getting enough exercise, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make exercise stop sucking ass". You're not supposed to just be doing things that are awful and suck all the time forever, you're supposed to figure out how to make it stop being so awful all the time.

I used to hate wearing sunscreen because it's sticky and slimy and disgusting and it feels bad and it smells bad, so I neglected to wear it even if I needed to. Then I found one that isn't like that, and doesn't smell and feel gross. Problem solved.

There is no correct way to live that's just supposed to suck and feel bad all the time. You're allowed to figure out how to make it not suck so bad.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 10: Nobody Likes You, Everyone Left You]

A/N: I sincerely apologize for the delay, but Maggie Sundays are back, besties!!! And we have a new poll! Be sure to check it out AFTER you finish Chapter 10 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title and chapter title are lyrics from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

Here’s how it happens.

Let’s say you’re on a subway, or at a bus stop, or walking in or out of a grocery store, maybe fumbling with your purse or corralling small children, or talking on the phone, or wondering how you’re going to make rent, or trying not to drop one of your shopping bags, and out of nowhere some stranger lurches over and grabs you. They are filthy and noxious and moaning, and you assume they are insane, or on hard drugs, or maybe both. Your fellow upstanding citizens rush to your aid and the assailant is apprehended and carted off, unbeknownst to you surely to infect many more blithely unaware victims.

Maybe you notice that you were bitten, even just barely, even just a scrape of the teeth hard enough to scratch the skin; maybe you don’t. If you do notice and you seek medical attention, the best a doctor will offer you is disinfectant and antibiotics, maybe a rabies shot if they’re extra ambitions. Perhaps you have too much on your plate already without a detour to the doctor’s office (or perhaps you don’t have medical insurance), and you opt for at-home remedies, a vigorous scrub with hydrogen peroxide and a large rectangular Band-Aid slapped on top. Of course, none of this will do you any good. It was over the moment a drop of zombie saliva slipped painlessly into your bloodstream and began to replicate there like an invasive species, like an insurgent force. It only takes once.

You go home, and maybe when you start to feel really bad you call an ambulance and go to the hospital, and when you turn you bite anyone you can get your claws on there. Maybe you die at home and then attack your partner, your children, your parents, your roommates; maybe this new version of yourself ends up chewing bits of gristle off the bones of your dog or cat or ferret. And if any of your victims manage to escape once you’ve gotten a taste of them—no matter how fleetingly, no matter how trivially—they are sure to die in agony and reanimate too, and to pass along this plague you’ve gifted them, the bloodiest game of telephone.

Now millions are getting sick, fevers, headaches, purging, bleeding, but where do people go when they need a doctor? The hospitals are overrun, the clinics are swarmed, and doctors and nurses are falling ill too. There are unimaginable reports of the carnage. There is censorship to smother the panic. There are public figures vanishing from sight. There are zombies-in-progress boarding planes, checking into hotels, tottering onto cruise ships with armfuls of luggage, sweating through their bedsheets in crowded military barracks, silently ticking timebombs as the world as everyone knows it hurtles towards its end.

You would be amazed what people can refuse to believe. Once you believe something, that makes it real.

~~~~~~~~~~

There are no shovels, so Cregan tills the earth with his axe and then you dig with your hands. There are no headstones, so Rhaena finds a large sand-colored rock and writes on it with a jagged piece of slate: Baela and Briar, Summer 2024. Then she hesitates, the slate hovering in afternoon air, amber sunlight and eighty degrees, dust thick in the wind. She wants to say more. There needs to be more. How can two lives end with five words? At last Rhaena adds: Mother and child who perished en route to California. They were loved. They mattered.

“That’s good, Rhaena,” Luke tells her, voice gentle, hands on her shoulders. She stares at the grave for a while, and you don’t have time to waste; the bear could return, there might be wolves or mountain lions, eventually the sun will set and you will be stranded in an infinite darkness like the ocean at night. But Aemond waits until Rhaena is ready. She tucks the shard of shale into her backpack, and then you are fleeing once again: from this day, from this world.

You hike back to I-80 and walk west towards the next ranch. All of you are here in south-central Wyoming, and yet none of you are: you are in the earth with Baela, you are back in Nebraska where Jace died, you are in Ohio where he was swept away by a river, you are in Pennsylvania where you and Rio climbed down from a transmission tower, you are in your lives before the world ended: Saratoga Springs, Boston, cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, a part of Kentucky called the Wildlands. Aegon is limping along on his own and shoving Rio away each time he tries to pick him up.

“Stop,” Aegon says, wincing and exhausted, his bandages coated with dust.

“Come on, Honey Bun. You’re going to rip your foot open—”

“Stop it!” Aegon demands. “I’m not going to slow you down anymore! I’m not going to be a burden!”

There is a sound you don’t immediately recognize: a rumbling, a squealing. A car is pulling up alongside you. Instinctively, you unholster one of your M9s and raise it as you turn.

“No, no, no, we’re cool!” a woman says, showing you both of her hands. She is around fifty and driving a Subaru Outback; there is a man in the passenger’s seat, perhaps her husband, and two wide-eyed, hoodie-swathed teenagers in the backseat. “Are you…are you guys okay?”

All of you stare blankly at her: shellshocked, distraught, covered in dirt and blood. “Yeah,” Daeron says eventually.

The woman peers around, east, west. “Do you have a car or something?”

“We have a Tahoe,” Cregan says. “It’s out of gas.”

“We have a few cans in the trunk,” the Subaru woman replies. “I can give you one, five gallons. That will get you to Rock Springs, and you should be able to find more supplies there. We came through that way, it wasn’t too bad.” And then, before anybody can ask if she’s serious, the woman steps out of the car and opens the hatchback. She lifts out a red can and hands it to Rio, who is standing the closest.

“Thank you, lady,” he says, astonished.

“I’m sorry about that,” you tell the woman, meaning the fact that you were prepared to shoot her.

Rhaena adds: “We’ve had some…bad experiences.”

The Subaru woman smiles. “Haven’t we all. Where are you headed?”

“West Coast,” Aemond answers quickly: vague, guarded, inviting no further disclosures.

She nods; she can’t trust you, and you can’t trust her, and everyone agrees, an unspoken acknowledgement of what the world is like now. “Well, you don’t want to go anywhere near Salt Lake City.”

“But that’s the only direct route,” Aegon says, crestfallen.

“I know.” The Subaru woman is sympathetic. “And it’s going to burn a hell of a lot of gas and time to drive all the way around, but you have to. There are tens of thousands of zombies, and a lot of people are trapped there without fuel. I’m telling you, if someone sees you driving by in a working vehicle, they’ll try to put a bullet in your head so they can take it. So don’t give them the opportunity.”

“Okay,” Aegon says glumly, already pulling his map out of the pocket of his khaki shorts to plot a new course.

“Stay far away from Chicago,” Rio offers the Subaru woman in return. “And any nuclear power plants.”

“We’re headed south,” she says, then grins. “I’ve got a sister in eastern Tennessee. We’re going to learn how to fish and cook moonshine and make clothes out of deer hide, and live up in the mountains where nobody will ever bother us.”

People glance at you, the resident Appalachian; and you remember the crackling of woodstoves, flecks of ice in the creek, kicking up snow as you ran through the woods, following tracks of deer and opossums and raccoons. “It’s a beautiful place. I think you’ll like it.”

Rhaena asks the Subaru woman: “Is there anything we can do for you? To thank you for the gas?”

“Oh, I couldn’t take from a bunch of bloodied people who are stranded on the side of the interstate.” But her eyes catch on the pistol in your hand and stay there, envious, longing. You have another, so you give it to her.

“The safety is on. There are only nine bullets left, unfortunately.”

“That’s nine more than I had before,” the Subaru woman says as she takes the U.S. Navy’s standard-issue Beretta. Then she says to everyone: “Good luck.”

“Same to you, ma’am,” Cregan replies. The Subaru woman gets back into her car and disappears eastbound with her family. The nine of you that are left—ten, if you count Ice—trek back to the Tahoe, where Rio pours five gallons of combustible liquid gold into the gas tank.

Rhaena climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition. The rust-red Tahoe growls to life, the engine idling. Then she rests her arms on the steering wheel and breaks down sobbing. In the passenger’s seat, Aegon looks up from his map—which he is annotating with a glittery green gel pen—to gaze at her with shining, wounded eyes. After some hesitation, he extends a hand to hold one of hers. From the seat behind Rhaena, Luke is rubbing her shoulders and murmuring words you can’t hear.

Aemond says softly: “Rhaena, you can take some time if you need it.”

“No,” she insists, her voice quivering but determined. “We can’t wait. We have to get as far as we can before dark.” She shifts the Tahoe into drive, guides it onto I-80, and speeds west towards Rock Springs and the Utah border.

Rio is saying something to you, but at first you can’t grasp it. Helaena is scratching Ice’s ears as the massive grey wolfdog lies sprawled across her lap. Daeron is sniffling and wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his orange t-shirt. Cregan is talking to Aemond about needing to find an auto shop so he can get supplies to change the Tahoe’s oil and filter. One of Aegon’s mixtapes whirls in the CD player:

“My face above the water

My feet can’t touch the ground, touch the ground

And it feels like I can see the sands on the horizon

Every time you are not around…”

You are watching Aemond, your heartbeat growing loud in your ears. He won’t look at you at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the sun begins to set, you find a vacant house on the outskirts of Coalville, Utah overlooking the Echo Reservoir. You wash away the remnants of Wyoming in the cool blue water, dried blood and caked-on dirt, hopes eclipsed by horror. Dinner is soup spooned out of cans from the pantry—Dinty Moore beef stew, Campbell’s condensed chicken noodle—and caffeine-free sodas, Sprite and Fanta and Seagram’s Ginger Ale. Then Rhaena and Luke go straight to bed, and Helaena scuttles through the house with a flashlight to search for clothes, making each person a separate pile on the dining room table: large flannel shirts for Cregan, pastel-colored polos for Aegon. Aemond and Cregan are outside on the front porch, Daeron is carving sticks into arrows on the kitchen floor, Aegon has been passed out in one of the children’s bedrooms since Aemond debrided his burns again and dosed him with the last of the Vicodin. Fortunately, Helaena found a translucent orange prescription bottle of Tramadol in the upstairs bathroom, so Aegon won’t have to suffer too much tomorrow.

Rio tosses and turns on the living room couch. You know what’s wrong, but you have to wait for him to say it. You stay with him, kneeling on the beige carpet in the murky artificial luminance of Rio’s Moonbeam flashlight, threading your fingertips through his dark curls. And then at last Rio asks something that you know must have crossed his mind a thousand times since you left Saratoga Springs, but he’s never voiced aloud: “What if Sophie and the baby are dead?”

“They’re not.”

“But you don’t know, nobody knows—”

“Bryan, they’re not dead,” you say, and he is listening.

“I joined the Navy for Sophie.” And of course, you’ve heard this before. “I was just a stupid kid who couldn’t commit to anything, not work, not school, not a future with her, so she dumped me. And I decided I was going to get her back by proving I could make commitments after all. I could sign my life away for five years, and come out of it as someone who would be a good husband and father. And now…what if by enlisting and being so far away when everything happened, I abandoned her? What if…what if she’s gone, and she died terrified and in pain and alone, and I’m the reason why?”

“Sophie and the baby are waiting for you in Odessa. You have to believe that until we get there.”

“Because if they’re not, my life is over?” he asks bitterly, this man you have never known to be wrathful, defeated, weak, hopeless. But these are beasts that live inside all of us, waiting to be shaken awake by the perfect string of calamities.

“I believe they’re still alive.”

And Rio looks at you, wanting desperately to be convinced. “Why?”

You’ve never believed that you are someone who knows the right things to say; but you have to try. “If your parents’ community in Odessa is like you’ve always described it to me, I can’t think of a better place for someone to hide from all the disorder and the violence. It’s remote, but there’s support from other families who are living the same way. People have gardens, cows, goats, pigs, chickens, enough canned food to live on for years, homemade clothes and systems to collect rainwater. There are women who’ve had five homebirths and men who’ve built houses with their own hands. And the people in Odessa have guns and know how to use them. I think when you told Sophie to go there, you saved her life. And now she and the baby are both waiting for you to come home.”

“We’ve crossed this country by raiding dead people’s homes.”

“Yes. And we’ve seen plenty of living ones too.”

Rio takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling; and now he is calmer. “Okay,” he says, grabbing your hand where it rests on his head and smacking a noisy kiss onto your knuckles. “I’m sorry. Thank you. I think I’m done freaking out for tonight.”

“You good?”

“I’m good.”

“Try to sleep.”

Obediently, Rio closes his eyes, and within five minutes he’s snoring.

You rise and open the door to the front porch, thinking of what you’re going to tell Aemond when he is low, distracted, wary: You did everything you could, Aemond. It’s not your fault. It’s this world, it’s poison, it’s cursed, and you can’t turn back the clock to when it wasn’t. You’re just one man. But you can try to save the people who are left.

Yet Aemond does not speak to you, doesn’t even notice you; when you peek outside you are on his blind side, and he is deep in conversation with Cregan as they keep watch in the moonlight.

“I mean, yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too, man,” Cregan is saying. “A mansion by the ocean sounds nice and all, don’t get me wrong, but that ain’t me. I don’t see myself somewhere like that forever. Hell, I’ve never even seen the ocean, and to be honest I never really cared to. But a community of folks who are living off the land out in the woods? Those are my kind of people, that’s a place I could be useful…”

You retreat back inside the house, flashlights and shadows, doubts and fears. You stand there in the quiet for a while, then go to Aegon’s bedroom, where he is awake now and snuggling with Ice in a child’s bed shaped like a red racecar, listening to his pink Sony Walkman—Ava, the gleaming rhinestones proclaim—through one earbud.

Aegon coos as he ruffles the dog’s shaggy grey coat: “You’re so sweet, Blue Raspberry Icee. You were always my favorite flavor. Do you miss 7-Elevens too? Wrinkled old hot dogs and taquitos on rollers, drenching tortilla chips with the nacho cheese and chili dispenser? Did you guys even have 7-Elevens in Iowa? No offense, but your home state kind of sucks. It’s just fields and barns and whatever. You would have loved Boston. You could have fetched my golf balls when they rolled into ponds.”

Then he sings along to the song he’s listening to, effortlessly melodic but so softly you can barely hear him:

“You really had me going, wishing on a star

But the black holes that surround you are heavier by far

I believed in your confusion, you were so completely torn…”

Aegon spots you in the doorway. He smiles, then turns serious when he gets a good look at your face. “You okay, Mint Chocolate Chip?”

He feels like the only person you can say this to. You confess in a weak, hoarse whisper: “I hate this world.”

Aegon offers you the other earbud. “Then let’s go somewhere else.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on,” you say to Rhaena as Rio and Luke rummage around inside the Shell gas station for food, drinks, batteries, medicine. You know they’re fine; you’ve already cleared the store, and you can hear them in there laughing. Rio is telling Luke about the bizarre Thanksgiving dinner you once had in Chinhae, South Korea: duck instead of turkey, fried rice with pears and squash instead of stuffing, candied sweet potatoes for dessert, a choir of solemn schoolchildren brought in to sing—for reasons you will never understand—Africa by Toto. You take your remaining M9 out of its holster. “Target practice.”

“Really?” Rhaena asks excitedly. She volunteered to stay back at the little blue mobile home with Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena—only a mile away—but you knew she needed a distraction. Truthfully, you do too. Aemond is in the Tahoe somewhere searching for gas with Cregan, a strange new alliance. He still hasn’t really spoken to you. You are trying to give him what he needs, but you don’t understand what that is.

It took all of yesterday to navigate around Salt Lake City, stopping every few hours to scrounge for gas, gallons siphoned piecemeal from cars, trucks, motorcycles, boats on trailers, four-wheelers left forgotten in garages and backyards. It was after nightfall when you rolled into Battle Mountain, Nevada, a gold mining town in what is known as the Cowboy Corridor, beginning at West Wendover just over the Utah border and ending in Reno. Today supplies must be replenished; tomorrow I-80 will take you to Winnemucca, where U.S. Route 95 branches off north towards Oregon while remaining on I-80 leads southwest through the Sierra Nevada Mountains and into the Bay Area of California. A decision needs to be made, which means Aemond will have to talk to you tonight. You’re relieved. You don’t want to have to be nervous and watchful with him, studying every inflection of his voice, reading some dire premonition in each line that creases his face. You’ve spent enough of your life that way already.

Battle Mountain is cloudless and hot and sandy, dry shrubs and gnarled mesquite trees, flat secretless earth. Staggering towards the Shell are three zombies, all dressed in faded blue uniforms like a mechanic’s or a miner’s. You hand Rhaena your M9.

“How many bullets do you have left?” she says, still a bit giddy.

“Fifteen. And you can have five of them.”

She raises the pistol and closes one eye. “I’m going to miss.”

“Well you’re not going to hit anything if you don’t turn off the safety.”

Rhaena giggles. “Oh, right. Whoops.” She clicks the tiny lever, then takes aim again.

“Line up your sights. Front looks like an I, back looks like a U. Put the I in the center of the U, and keep looking at that front sight. That’s where your bullet is going. Don’t blink when you fire. Don’t be scared of the recoil, that’s not your problem, your priority is getting the shot. Your arms are a little stiff…yeah, perfect, nice and limber. The recoil won’t hurt so much that way. Don’t try to fight it, just accept that it’s going to happen. If you’re all tensed up because you’re anxious about the recoil, it’ll throw off your aim, so forget about it.”

“Okay,” Rhaena says. “I am actively attempting to forget.”

“Remember, try not to blink.”

“Don’t tense up. Don’t blink.” A few seconds pass, and she pulls the trigger. There is a spray of dark curdled blood from one of the zombie’s collarbone, but it’s still stumbling towards the Shell. “Damn,” Rhaena says defeatedly, then tries to pass the M9 back to you.

“What are you doing? You have four more shots.”

“But I’m going to miss. I’m going to waste them.”

“Practice isn’t wasteful. You have to know how to do this in case something happens to me.”

“You do it,” Rhaena insists. “I’m terrible.”

“Is it alright if I help you?”

“Yeah,” she says, her doe-like eyes brightening. “Okay. Totally.”

“Go ahead and aim.”

She raises the pistol and peers through the sights. You stand behind Rhaena, place your hands lightly over hers, adjust her angle just barely. When she fires—she’s still tensing up just before she pulls the trigger, a common mistake—you hold the M9 steady. The bullet explodes through the same zombie’s rot-soft skull and the corpse tumbles facedown into the dust.

Rhaena gasps, exhilarated, triumphant.

“No celebrating yet. There are two more.”

“Right.” Very businesslike, she lines up the next shot. You provide your slight adjustments; a second zombie receives a lethal dose of lead.

“Want to do the last one on your own?” The third zombie is quite close now, maybe ten yards. It should be an easy kill.

“Okay…but if I miss, you have to save me.”

“Obviously.”

All on her own, Rhaena aims and pulls the trigger. She hits the zombie near the top of its head; an inch higher, and it would be functionally unharmed. But the corpse’s skull snaps back and its blood and brains spill out onto the asphalt of the parking lot, and it is of no further danger to anyone. It is carrion for the scavengers: raccoons, foxes, condors, vultures, crows.

“And with one of your allocated bullets to spare,” you say with a smile, accepting the M9 when Rhaena surrenders it. “Good progress.”

“That felt great,” she admits, perhaps a little dazed.

You know what she means. “It’s nice to have some control over what happens in your life.”

Luke is saying to Rio as they reappear from inside the Shell: “Maybe those Korean children were singing Africa because they knew your unit had been in Djibouti. Maybe they thought you were homesick for it or something.”

“Oh my God, you know what, kid? You might be right. I never even thought of that.”

“Find anything?” you ask.

Rio shrugs, adjusting the straps of his backpack. “A few bags of trail mix, a box of Band-Aids, some Life Savers, cans of Arizona tea. Oh, and Marlboro Golds for Honey Bun.”

“You shouldn’t be encouraging Aegon to smoke. It’s bad for him.”

“Give him a break, he’s sad and crispy.”

You can’t think of a rebuttal. The four of you walk back to the mobile home.

In the small patch of parched dirt that serves as the driveway, Cregan is—with great difficulty—shimmying out from beneath the Tahoe. Then he reaches back under to grab a pan of old motor oil. “Just about done here,” he announces. “Gotta put the fresh oil in and then we’re set for another 5,000 miles.”

You glance around. Ice is panting in the narrow aisle of shade of a mesquite tree. Aegon is napping on the tiny front porch, sprawled on his back and snoring, his plastic neon green sunglasses shielding his eyes; Helaena is surrounded by a jumble of empty cans and stirring a pot of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs as she heats it over a fire. She begins dishing out bowlfuls of it. Rio, Rhaena, and Luke all graciously accept their dinner.

“Did you guys find gas?” you say to Cregan.

“Not much. A few gallons.”

“Where’s Aemond?”

“Said he’d be back soon.”

“What?” You are incredulous. “You left him? He can’t be alone out there, Cregan. Someone has to watch his blind side.”

“He ain’t alone. He took Daeron.”

“What’s Aemond looking for?”

“He didn’t say. I didn’t ask.” Now Cregan is pouring a bottle of Pennzoil into the Tahoe, and Rio is prodding you with a bowl of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs, and Aegon is waking up and yawning loudly.

“What’d you bring me?” he says, lazy and grinning; and when he receives his pack of Marlboro Golds, he immediately sticks one between his teeth and lights it. Luke goes to sit by a shrub and then jumps up when he hears a rattling noise. Almost too swiftly for you to process it, a streak of red-gold scales slithers across the earth and vanishes into the desert.

“Western diamondback rattlesnake,” Helaena notes. “Venomous. Potentially fatal.”

“Great,” Luke says, carrying his bowl towards the front door of the mobile home. “I think I’ll eat inside.”

Aemond and Daeron don’t return until shortly before dusk, the sky turning to rust, lavender, gold, fire, blood. When they walk in, Rhaena is curled up on the floral couch—shredded in spots by a cat, though there are no signs of it now—and reading Mockingjay. Luke is sitting with her and keeping watch with periodic peeks out the window. Ice is resting with her muzzle propped on her large front paws. You, Rio, Cregan, Helaena, and Aegon are playing Uno on the floor.

“What color?” Aegon asks Helaena when she puts down a wild card.

“Blue.”

He groans. “How do you always know what I don’t have?!”

“Rhaena,” Aemond says, and then tosses something to her that glints in the artificial, sickly yellow radiance of the flashlights. She catches them in midair: a set of keys. She is mystified.

“What are these for?”

“The Ford Expedition that’s parked outside.”

“What?!” Luke says, twisting around in his seat to snatch the curtain aside and peer through the window. “Oh wow. Yeah, it’s out there.”

Rhaena is staring confoundedly at Aemond. “Why do we need a Ford Expedition?”

“Because that’s what you’ll be driving tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong with the Tahoe?”

“They will be driving the Tahoe to Oregon,” Aemond says, pointing to you, Rio, and Cregan. “We are taking Expedition to California.”

Everyone is too stunned to speak at first; even Daeron looks at Aemond doubtfully, as if this is the first time he’s learning of it. Aegon’s hand hovers frozen in the air above the draw pile of Uno cards. Ice whimpers.

Rio chuckles uncertainly. “You’re…you’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not,” Aemond says. “When we leave Battle Mountain tomorrow, you’ll take I-80 to Winnemucca. We’ll take Route 305 south to Austin and then head west so we can get off the interstate and avoid the Reno area.”

Your voice comes out dark and poisonous. You can feel your eyes glaring, searing; Aemond won’t look at you. “What are you talking about?”

“We can’t stay together?” Luke asks.

“No,” Aemond says again, and now he’s getting impatient. “We have two different destinations. That’s been the situation since the day we met, and now it’s time to split up.”

“Why can’t we all travel to one place and then the other?” Rhaena says. “We could drive to the Bay Area, see what’s going on at the beach house, and after—”

“I can’t wait,” Rio interrupts. “My wife and baby are in Oregon, I’m going straight there even if no one else is.” As distracted as you are, you touch your palm to one of his broad shoulders. You’re going too. You promised.

“So we’ll drive to Oregon first,” Aegon says agreeably. “Right? We could do that. Go north and then swing by the Bay Area later.”

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s almost impossible to find gas now. There is just enough in the Tahoe to last it until Winnemucca, and just enough in the Expedition to get it down to Austin. There is no guarantee we’ll be able to find more. Every day there’s less gas and food and bullets, because there are less places that haven’t already been looted. There are 400 miles between where we are right now and either Odessa or San Franscisco. There are another 400 miles that separate those two destinations from each other. So let’s say we drive all the way to Oregon and then can’t find any gas to go south to the Bay. How long do you think we’d last like this on foot? A month? Because that’s how long it would take us, assuming not a single rest day. So if we travel to one location together, there’s a good possibility we’ll all be trapped there.”

“Maybe I’m okay with getting trapped in Oregon,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond lashes out fiercely. “Are you serious? What about Criston, what about Mom?!”

“Maybe there are some things about home that I don’t miss!”

“Then go the fuck to Oregon!”

“You know I have to stay with you!”

Aemond scoffs. “Because you’re so capable of protecting anyone.”

Aegon rubs his sunburned face with both hands. He murmurs softly, miserably: “I’m trying, Aemond.”

“So that’s it?” Rhaena says, staring at you and Rio and Cregan, stunned and mournful. “We’ll just never see each other again?”

Aemond shrugs and averts his gaze. He doesn’t have an answer; maybe he doesn’t care.

Aegon turns to Cregan accusingly. “You helped plan this?”

“Nah,” Cregan says, avoidant and downcast, which is unusual for him. “I mean…I said I didn’t really see myself spending the rest of my life with a bunch of millionaires in a California mansion on the seashore, and that’s still true. I’d rather live in Oregon with people who are more like me. But that’s different than wanting to split up forever. I could always try to find y’all later for a visit, I guess…”

“Sure,” Aemond replies briskly. “Whatever you decide to do afterwards isn’t my problem. But you get them to Odessa first.”

Rhaena bursts out with sudden urgency: “This feels wrong. Don’t you see how this is wrong?! We’ve been through so much together, and now we’re just going to wave goodbye and disappear? Leave them to fend for themselves?”

“You want to add 400 miles to our trip?” Aemond asks her, and Rhaena falls silent.

“You know,” Luke begins. “We…we’ve already lost people. Maybe Aemond’s right. Maybe we’re forgetting how dangerous the world is now. It would be great if we could stay in contact, but the most important thing is to get everyone safely to where they need to be.”

“Exactly,” Aemond says, and something jolts awake in you as you remember what he told you in Nebraska, and in Wyoming, and in so many quiet moments that you’ve shared since you met, each an oasis in the desert. He said we would figure it out. He said he wasn’t going anywhere.

“So you were lying when you pretended not to know what we were going to do when we got to Nevada.”

Aemond nods towards the front door. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

You stand up; Rio watches you apprehensively, wondering if he should follow. Your eyes flick to his. I’m fine. He relents, redirecting his attention. Aegon is slumped and despondent; Helaena is starting to cry, and Cregan tries to console her. She’s saying that something bad is going to happen, but she doesn’t know what.

On the porch of the mobile home, beneath a lilac sky pierced with stars, Aemond does not attempt to hold your hands or kiss you goodbye or give any other indication that you have ever been someone who mattered to him. “This isn’t personal. This is what gives everyone the best chance of survival.”

“You’re afraid of making a mistake and getting hurt,” you tell him. “And I understand, I know what that feels like, but Aemond…with the way the world is now…you can’t afford to wait for things to happen or cut them loose to see if they’ll come back to you. You might not get another chance.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Aemond says flatly. “Your route is safer than ours. Less cities, less zombies.”

“You’re honestly going to act like you are completely unbothered by the thought of never seeing me again?”

“I don’t know what you expected. I’m just some guy who helped get you off a transmission tower back in Pennsylvania.”

“Really? That’s all you are?”

And then Aemond smirks to himself, a cynical, mocking twist of his lips, something so dismissive and so cruel you almost believe for a razor-thin second that you could hate him. “Look, I’m not the one for you. Go to Oregon. Fuck Cregan.”

“There is nothing romantic between me and Cregan!”

Now Aemond seems annoyed. “Well, you two seem exceptionally suited for each other.”

“Because we both grew up shopping at Dollar General and know what it’s like to have an alcoholic parent?! That makes us soulmates, that’s the end of the calculation?!”

“Then find a man like him!” Aemond flares. “That’s what you really wanted, right? That’s what you were after this whole time. Some hero to convince you he’s worth it. Someone to break you in.”

You are seething, thunderstruck. “And you just said that in the most hurtful way possible to…what, prove how little you care about me?”

“I didn’t say I don’t care about you.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“We were never going to end up in the same place.”

“Except we were, you told me that, you told me we’d figure something out, I mean, you…you…you said you’d be there if I wanted kids someday, what was that if not some kind of commitment?!”

“You don’t trust me,” Aemond says, so sharply and so abruptly it startles you.

“I do,” you object softly.

“No, you don’t. And I don’t blame you. But there’s nowhere for us to go from here.”

You can feel yourself becoming young and powerless and desperately afraid. “Please don’t do this, Aemond. It won’t bring Jace or Baela back. If we don’t have a plan before we split up, this is over. We’ll never find each other again. We’ll never have another chance.”

And he shakes his head like this was such a needless mistake. “I knew you’d fall in love with me.”

He’s leaving, you think, hazy and omnipotent like a nightmare, the present inseparable from the past and the future. I left my family and now my family is leaving me. “I’m not in love with you,” you reply as ruthlessly as you can. “I think you’re right. Cregan is a better man.”

“Yeah,” Aemond snaps.

“And I need someone like him.”

“Yeah,” Aemond says again, staring into the west where the last rays of the sun are sinking below the horizon, you erased as you stand where his left eye would once have seen you.

“And you need someone who’s going to fuck with your head so much you can’t possibly mistake it for something real.”

You walk back inside the mobile home and leave him speechless in the dying light.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I drew this for you,” Aegon says, handing Rio a folded piece of paper torn from Helaena’s spider notebook. It’s a map, illustrated in forest green gel pen ink. “Your route is actually really straightforward, it’s impossible to get lost. You’ll follow I-80 northwest to Winnemucca, then Route 95 north until it intersects with Route 140, and you stay on 140 all the way to Odessa. The only real city you’ll go near is Klamath Falls in Oregon, and I’ve marked that. Route 140 mostly stays along the outside, but you can cut it wider if things look dicey. The whole trip is just a couple days by car, assuming you don’t have to spend too long hunting for gas. But listen…” He points to the green dot labelled Winnemucca. “Between here and Denio Junction up by the Oregon border, there’s 100 miles of nothing, just desert. So make sure you have more than enough supplies to last you in case something happens. Then from Denio Junction to Adel is another 85 miles with no towns in between. So just…be careful, okay? You’re not back east anymore. Things are a lot farther apart, and it’s harder to find everything. If you run out of gas or bust a tire, you can’t just call AAA to come pick you up.”

“We got it,” Rio says, touched but trying not to dissolve into too much sentimentality. The three of you are standing in the short dirt driveway the next morning, Aegon putting most of his weight on his good leg. Cregan is waiting behind the wheel of the Chevy Tahoe that once belonged to his parents. Ice is peering out at you through one of the rolled-down windows. “Thank you, Honey Bun.”

“No problem. Now flip it over.”

Rio does; on the back of the first map is another, this one from Odessa south to the Bay Area, a place just north of San Francisco called Bolinas.

“Go all the way to the coast and follow it down,” Aegon says. “You don’t want to bump into Santa Rosa, Sacramento, Stockton, Modesto, San Jose, any of those places. Too many people.” Then he smiles, kind and warm. “I’m going to see you guys again, one way or the other. But first I have to make sure Aemond is safe. And Rio has to meet baby Otter.”

Rio laughs. “Man, don’t even joke about it. I’m seriously concerned that’s my firstborn’s name.”

“If you end up not staying in Odessa, leave me a note carved into a tree trunk or something so I can track you down.”

“You do the same at the beach mansion.”

“Totally.” Then Aegon turns to you; and although he’s still smiling, his eyes—those pools of murky, melancholy blue that remind you of the Gulf of Tadjoura, Corpus Christi Bay, the East China Sea, the Indian Ocean—are catastrophically sad. “Tortilla Chip, it’s been real. Don’t forget about me.”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

He pats your backpack and winks, and you don’t understand why until ten hours later when you’re lying on the rooftop of an abandoned RV in Winnemucca, Nevada, gazing up at the stars as Rio and Cregan swap stories to weave affinity until it’s thick like a braid: Rio hiding a dead lemon shark in the Jeep of an officer he hated when you were stationed at Key West, Cregan’s fiancé leaving him after she got a field hockey scholarship to the University of Iowa. You haven’t found any gas for the Tahoe yet. You’ll have to search again tomorrow. You reach into your backpack for a pack of Life Savers and instead are surprised to discover Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman. The rhinestones spelling out a doomed little girl’s name glint in the moonlight.

You slip in both earbuds and press play. Aegon left it paused at an Enrique Iglesias song; you assume he must have been thinking of Rio.

“You look at me and, girl, you take me to another place

Got me feelin’ like I’m flyin’, like I’m out of space

Something ‘bout your body says, come and take me

Got me begging, got me hoping that the night don’t stop…”

You try to see constellations in the night sky instead of random, indifferent distant suns. You try not to remember the way Aemond was when you thought his mark on you was permanent.

“Girl, I like the way you move, come and show me what to do

You can tell me that you want me, girl, you got nothing to lose

I can’t wait no more

I can’t wait no more…”

You spot a glimmer of light among the stars and choose to believe it is a comet rather than a fighter jet, or a forgotten satellite, or the refracted remnants of a solar storm, or something you only imagined and that never existed at all.

[xenon-demon]

ooo tell me more about med student steve & nurse eddie 💕💕💕

HELLO JANAI!!! this fic is the one I'm most actively writing rn (as opposed to Kas!Steve AU where i'm constantly rotating it in my brain like a rotisserie chicken, but that's for outlining/untangling knots in the plot reasons lmao) so I am Very Happy to talk about it <3

I did actually finish properly outlining this AU today too!! Unless inspiration strikes me and I write way too much for something, it looks like this fic will be 7 chapters and a short epilogue.

SO, to answer your ask I'm going to share with you what some of the other ST characters (those that I've slotted into a healthcare role, at least) are doing in this AU:

Chrissy is the ward clerk, aka the person who handles all the admin tasks, on the ward Eddie works on! They're best friends, and if there's a quiet moment (or more likely, Eddie is on break) you can usually find them talking shit together at Chrissy's desk. Chrissy is also a bi icon in this AU 🩷💜💙

Joyce is the Nurse Unit Manager of the ward - as the title implies, she's the boss of the nursing staff on the ward and in charge of things like making sure hospital policies are being followed & organizing the nursing team so all patients are adequately cared for. She is Very Overworked but she runs a tight ship!

Argyle is one of the hospital pharmacists, and Jonathan is a trainee hospital pharmacist working with him (but not directly under him as Argyle's personal trainee. That'd be a little weird, considering they're dating). Argyle is also working on a research paper about the benefits of medicinal marijuana (with hopes the team's findings will contribute to further legalisation across the country).

Jason sucks. Jason is a medical student on placement with Steve, and he's... he's what we call a gunner. In med school, gunners are students who are ambitious to a fault, potentially willing to throw other students under the bus to further their own career or academic performance, and often focus too much on the "being right"/"being The Best at medicine" aspects of being a doctor instead of prioritizing the patient and their needs. Basically, he's an out-of-touch privileged jackass who comes from a long line of doctors, and has therefore just Assimilated into the family destiny without ever thinking about what being a doctor actually means.

Vickie works in the hospital pathology centre - she's one of the people who picks up samples and processes them after the doctors or nurses drop them off. Every time Robin goes up there (because it's common to send the med students off to drop off the pathology samples) she is So Very Normal and makes Normal People Conversation with Vickie. Robin is so smooth, I promise.

Nancy is another medical student like Robin & Steve are, and she's currently with the consult psychiatry team with Robin. Nancy is also dating Jonathan, because Jonathan has two hands, and Nancy is very interested in the research work Argyle does. She is still Steve's ex-girlfriend in this AU - they had a poorly-thought-out brief relationship in their first year of medical school, and no one in the medical school has let them live it down.

Dr Henry Creel is the consultant doctor in charge of the Internal Medicine team Steve & Jason are currently with. As he's in charge of the team, he's the one who grades the med students and decides if they pass or fail their placement term. I'm sure nothing bad will come of this.

For reference, the "young adults" of the ST cast are in their mid-twenties in this AU. This means that those in fields like nursing or pharmacy have already graduated from college and are full-status employees in their chosen fields, while the med students of the group are still working their way through medical school (since doing a bachelor's + an MD is pretty time-consuming, and that's before you take any time off from studying after high school or between degrees). Also, Henry is Older here, since in canon he's like... what, 40 in 1986? He's at least in his fifties in this AU, since consultant doctors are rarely any younger than that (particularly if they're not brand new to the job).

Also, if I haven't said this elsewhere already, this is a modern AU! No way am I forcing myself to replace all my healthcare knowledge with healthcare knowledge from 40 years ago for this fic, it's bad enough I have to pretend to understand how the American healthcare system works lmao

Send me an ask about my WIPs!

[kholkate]

The January wind was harsh as Dr. John Holmes went from the bus stop into the hospital. He was just going into work for the day at the E.R. but knew he had to talk to a doctor friend first, having gone back and forth on if he should or not after a morning of misery in the loo he decided he couldn't wait anymore.

There were already several patients in the waiting room and he gave them a wave as he entered. Heading back into the treatment rooms he found his co-worker, Dr. Jamal Stevens, finishing up an apple by the nurses station. Another couple of friends, Nurses Hedi Khan and Colleen McGuigan also stood there chatting.

“Morning all,” John said. He couldn't help eyeing the apple in Jamal's hand and the horrible queasy feeling came into his stomach again.

“Morning John. We are privileged to have not clocked in yet,” Hedi chuckled, her sleek ponytail bounced.

“Well, can I ask a favor? Would you check me out? I've been sick on and off for a while,” John admitted. He ran his hand over the top of the station, he was a little nervous to finally talk about it.

Jamal straightened up and tossed his apple core in the trash. “Sure. What's been going on?” He asked. 

John followed him into an exam room where he watched Jamal wash his hands and then put on some gloves; John sat down on the bed.

“I have been so nauseous and vomiting, fatigued and tired. Of course with work it's hard to say if fatigue and tiredness are symptoms, but the vomiting is getting to me. It's not everyday but this morning was awful and I just need to figure out what is wrong,” John said. He watched as Jamal took out his stethoscope and hooked it on his neck.

“Have you been getting your monthly?” Jamal asked. He listened to John's heart after asking.

John opened his mouth and then closed it, head turning as he thought. “I um…I don't know. With the holidays and work and Sherlock I really don't know,” he admitted.

“Well just based on that and knowing that you're a newly wed still I tend to think it might be pregnancy. But you lay back there and we will do some labs and see what they tell us, I'll also order an ultrasound and we can check that too,” Jamal said. He took up his tablet and began typing things up to send out the orders.

“Oh well…” John started to protest but thinking about it he had to agree that it was possible he could be pregnant. 

“Lay back there and be a good patient, doctor. I'll send Hedi in for BP and to take your blood,” Jamal said. He waited for John to obey before leaving the room.

John lay there looking up at the ceiling with his heart pounding from nervous excitement, he hoped it would be pregnancy, that would certainly make him happy.

Hedi came in and followed the doctor's orders, and not too long after that the ultrasound machine was brought in and Colleen manned it, putting the cold gel on his lower belly and running the wand through it.

“Is that a heartbeat?” John asked, looking at the screen. He had done a few ultrasounds in med school but none since then.

Colleen grinned at him. “Yes it is! Would you like to hear it?” 

John smiled and gave a laugh. “Yes!” He said, with a fast beating heart.

Colleen turned on a switch and the rhythmic sound of a heartbeat that was not John's own came through. His immediate response was to put a hand on his stomach above the ultrasound wand.

“Looks like you're about ten weeks, the heartbeat is good and strong. We will wait and see about your blood work but everything seems to be fine,” Colleen said. She withdrew the wand and wiped his belly off.

“Thank you! I am just…I am so happy and surprised I don't know what to say,” John said. He laid his head back against the pillow to start processing everything. 

Colleen patted his leg. “Congratulations, papa!” She said.

As he lay there waiting for the lab results his mind turned to his husband, Sherlock had taken a case in India and had been gone since the week after Christmas. John had wanted to go with him but Sherlock had refused, saying he couldn't him yet he also didn't exactly say what the case was which had been a worry for John. Their commutation had been sparse and short, only a text a week for the past three weeks and always from a different number, only the words let him know it was Sherlock. 

The one thing his husband had told him was that if he needed anything to contact Mycroft, and after getting this news he felt like he should indeed call his brother-in-law. Soon enough Jamal came back in with his lab results, breaking into his thoughts.

“Well, your diagnosis is that you are ten weeks pregnant and you are suffering from nausea and vomiting of pregnancy, or morning sickness. But your labs look great, you need to set up an appointment with the OBGYN soon as you can but other than that you are free to start your shift,” Jamal smiled.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” John said. He sat up on the side of the bed and they shook hands.

“Just one question- is it Sherlock's?” Jamal grinned.

“Of course it's Sherlock's!” John said, smiling at Jamal's wink.

Leaving the exam room he did get right to work, though with every idle moment his thoughts turned to the new life growing inside him and just how he was going to tell his husband.

From a new fic called And Baby Makes Three.

[wildweirdly]

A story about taking the bus (long)

Emma lives a couple cities over in a somewhat secluded area, about a 45 minute drive from me. There's a bus that goes there for just $3 and that's where I am now, doing some writing and listening to music while I travel. This will be the second time I've taken it, with this past Sunday being the first.

The trip itself takes about an hour but the seats on this bus are upgraded like a coach so they're a bit more stylish and several magnitudes more comfortable than the regular buses. This one is also air conditioned which is especially welcome since I'm wearing my anxiety vest again. These days I've been on edge and attempting to rely less on weed so I've been wearing it to help curb the physical symptoms.

Emma told me the reason this bus is nicer than the rest is because students use it to get to the college near her. I don't know if that's true or not but I believe it. She'll be going there starting the end of this month to take a couple classes and finnish her degree. This time around she's aiming for a job as a therapist, using her prior medical accreditation as a springboard.

Since we met she's often brought up the subject of school and how she thinks I should go back because I'm "very smart". She doesn't have the same struggles as me so she doesn't seem to understand that there are a few certain barriers I'd have to breach to make something like that possible. On top of that she makes $21-$50 an hour so money isn't an issue for her. I guess that's the difference between working in a grocery store like I do and working in a hospital like she does. Fortunately I haven't had to deal with any customers dying or bleeding or anything so I'd say I'm the luckier one of the two of us.

Last time I visited her, Emma was running on 3 hours of sleep which kicked her anxiety into overdrive. She's one of the types that's afraid of medication so she's not taking anything for it which I could never do myself (I struggle badly even with my meds!) Since then she's managed to sleep properly but her mind has been in Panic Mode and doesn't seem to want to ease out of it. I know I can't fix things but I'm hoping my presence today might help calm her a little. At the very least I know I can be a good cuddle partner, and sometimes that makes all the difference.

This will be the third time I've spent the night with her, and every time it happens is always so interesting to me. When we first started seeing each other she spoke about taking things slow and cautious and how she wanted to start off as "friends with benefits". Similarly she said she didn't know if she would classify what we were doing as "dating", and that she needed to know me better before we got physical. We ended up getting physical that same day, and two days later I was asleep in her bed.

Emma and I are both trans, but I'm the first trans man she's ever been with. Up to this point she's mainly ever been with cis guys, and some of the marks it's left on her are telling. She told me about being grabbed unprompted and was curious why I asked before putting my hands on her. In a way it made her nervous I wasn't interested so I had to explain that until I become more familiar with her boundaries I'm not going to like, randomly grab her ass while we're talking or anything like that. On top of this she's used to men pulling the ol "cum and go" and she said she hadn't had anyone who wanted more out of her than just sex in a long time. She's also not used to men showering before seeing her which I can't even begin to imagine putting up with. Maybe I've just been lucky with the people I've been with, I dunno! I would absolutely hit the breaks if someone smelled bad like that, yanno? Like it's one thing to be a little sweaty or whatever but it's an entirely different story if someone had an active smell. Just really not something I could handle!

Overall I think whatever we have going on is going to bring positive change for both of us. So far it's afforded me travel, much needed company, and physical affection. We've been to a concert, out to dinner, and we're traveling to the Thousand Islands area tomorrow for a hike and picnic (weather permitting). She's also mentioned needed affection and attention so we both are able to fill that void quite nicely. I hope to end up in an Official Relationship with her eventually but for now it's good to know she enjoys my lace in her life

[chickensarentcheap]

Probably her bitch barn (LOL) and the swinging bed that's out on their bedroom balcony.   He's built a lot of things and is always adding onto something, whether it's her garden or the kids' gardens and play spaces.

2.  They both have.  There's been a lot of long and frequent absences where being away from home or having him away has just been too much to deal with.   She worries a lot and has a hard time sleeping when he's gone and he doesn't sleep at all away from home.     He struggled a lot in Best Part of Me when he went to Dhaka again and he'd have his emotional moments over the phone. Especially when he first called when he got there. And after that incident he was attacked and drugged.

3.   The first three months, he was pretty alright.  But then again, he and Esme would have booty calls (SMDH) and even though he had to leave before the kids got up, he got that time with her and the intimacy and connection.  It was the only time they got along and they could connect, unfortunately. It was a mess.   And then when she put a stop to it, he really spiralled.  Always drinking, always popping meds, taking the most dangerous of jobs.  Missing visits with the kids,  missing school/day care events he was invited to.  he was pretty certain he was going to receive divorce papers.

4.   She's done a pretty naughty strip tease. Complete in hooker boots, as Tyler calls them.  It led to a lap dance. Would have let to more, but she had to go and puke. LMAO.    She always once stumbled into the closet announcing she had to pee and he had to go and get her and lead her to the washroom lol

5.   Tyler is at first a very social and humorous drunk.  But he gets very emotional and weepy soon after.   I think the funniest he's been is what we saw in NGBA.  The whole 'did you change the locks?' episode

6.  When Tyler was first sent home to the hospital in Australia (after Dhaka), he was pretty high on pain meds but even with Koen there, he'd let Esme dote on him.   Show him affection etc.  And then one day she left the room and Tyler grabbed Koen by the arm and said "I'm going to marry that girl."  koen jokes that he probably said it because he was high, but that's when he knew.

7.  Extremely popular! She's won awards for business of the year a couple of times, she's been featured in travel magazine and travel brochures on places to visit in Queensland.   And the locals love it too!

8.  Tyler usually.   It's just the three littlest that need the help now. So he can throw all three in the 'bubbly tub' at once and be done with it lmao

9.  It was a normal school day. She made him eggs and toast and bacon for breakfast, told him she'd bring him a special treat home when she went grocery shopping, and then saw him off on the school bus. It was the last time he'd ever see her.

10.   Esme rebelled as a way of grieving.  She started skipping school, started getting drunk with friends a lot, experimenting with drugs,  dyeing her hair wild colours, getting piercings and tattoos.  

@secretaryunpaid​, @munstysmind​, @youflickedtooharddamnit​

[tomtenadia]

Remember Us - part 1

Here I am with a new Rowaelin. This will be a much shorter than ALB both in chapter length and story length. The idea came to me while on the bus home after work. It’s angsty,

A special thank you to @whimsicallyreading for being my wonderful beta <3

------

Rowan is involved in a motorbike accident while on his way to work. A crash that will have some consequences on his marriage with Aelin when he realises that he has lost his memory. Day by day they will have to find their way back to each other and and survive the challenges that life throws at them. 

-----

When the silver haired man opened his eyes it took him a moment for his vision to focus and take in his surroundings. The walls around him were a pale beige colour and the smell of disinfectant was the first thing that hit his senses. In the background there was a steady beeping sound and when he moved his head towards it he saw a machine tracking his heart rate. Hospital. He was in a hospital. A couple of bags with liquids were hanging from hooks at his side and the long plastic tubes ran to his hand. Another gentle motion of his head and he saw his right arm in a splint and his right leg propped up and enveloped in a protective support.

The man pushed his head back in the pillow and groaned. He was in an hospital. And slowly he realised that’s all he knew. His mind felt empty as he tried to think about how he got there. But nothing. There was nothing. He closed his eyes and blackness hit him. He clearly broke his arm and his leg, but how it happened? He had no idea. Slowly he realised that all his memories had started from the instant he woke up. That was all he had and a wave of panic hit him.

In that instant a nurse walked into the room to check on him “Oh, Mr Whitethorn, you finally decided to join us. How do you feel?”

“Whitethorn?” His voice gruff.

“Yes, that’s your surname.”

The man looked at her with a confused stare.

“Do you know where you are? What day it is? Your name?”

The man shook his head “but from the fancy machines and your attire I guess I am in hospital.” He managed to utter, his throat feeling scratchy from disuse. How long had he been asleep?

“Let me go and call the doctor.” And she hurried out of the room.

Whitethorn, his surname was Whitethorn. That was a start.

A moment later a woman entered the room “good morning you. Glad that you could finally join us.” She smiled at him and checked a few things. The doctor flashed a penlight in his eyes then held a finger in front of him “follow this.” She moved the finger from left to right and back and he followed it with his eyes.

“So, the nurse said you don’t remember much.” She straightened her back and saw her write some notes on his chart. 

“I can’t…” he whispered “why am I in hospital?”

“Your name is Rowan Whitethorn. A month ago you had a motorbike accident on your way to work. You have been in a coma ever since. You had a helmet on but still sustained some serious head injuries and you are now experiencing amnesia. It will be temporary and the memories will eventually come back.”

Rowan closed his eyes, he had a name now, another small piece to add to the infinite puzzle in front of him.

“I will schedule another MRI to check your progress since surgery. Now rest, I will get in touch with your wife and let her know that you are awake.” And the doctor left.

Wife. He had a wife. He was married and his name was Rowan and he had an accident.

*

Aelin left the OR exhausted. The last surgery had lasted for hours but she had saved a kid’s life. She threw her OR scrubs in the trash and walked back to her office, looking forward to sit down on her chair for half an hour at least. Her back was killing her and she definitely dreamed about a back rub in that moment. But her plans were thwarted when she got a page from doctor Westfall. Rowan was awake. He was finally awake. She told the nurses she was going to the neurology ward and that she had her pager on if they needed her and she ran to the elevator.

Once on the correct floor, she stopped. She had been waiting for that moment for a whole month and now she was scared. She was a neurosurgeon as well and, although she was a paediatric one, she knew what his injuries might cause. She spotted Yrene in the corridor and ran to her in a frenzy “Yrene, I got your page.”

“He is awake,” said the brunette “his functions are okay but he is has amnesia. We talked about the possibility.” She explained and Aelin nodded “I have ordered another MRI and I will have a better idea after.”

“Can I go in?”

“Yes, but remember that he might not know who you are.” And she patted Aelin’s shoulder in support.

Aelin nodded and pushed back the tears that had been forming at the corner of her eyes.

Rowan was awake. She had awaited that news for the last month but the happiness in her soul was shackled by fear. Deep unyielding fear. She might have him back but at what price? She knew that the type of injuries he had suffered could affect the memory. As a doctor she was prepared to face it, but as his wife, she could feel her heart aching at the possibility of being a stranger to the man who held her heart. Of him not recognising their children. With a deep breath she steadied her nerves and eventually she opened the door to his room. She had been waiting for that moment for so long, for the day she would go inside and find him awake, his pine green eyes on her once again.

A step inside and her hand went instinctively on her belly over her scrubs where her bump had barely started to show.

“Rowan…”

*

“Rowan…”

A female voice distracted him from his thoughts. He turned his head and saw a woman with golden hair and the most amazing blue eyes with a ring just as golden as her hair. She wore scrubs, probably another doctor checking up on him. But the way she had said his name was different from how doctor Westfall had said it.

She was stunning. That much he could admit.

“Ro…” she said it with a soft tone and moved a step toward him and he had a feeling she was not just a regular doctor checking on him. Why was she crying? Then his eyes moved to her left hand on her stomach and spotted a ring. He looked at his left hand and saw a matching one on his fourth finger.

His breath hitched at the realisation. The doctor had mentioned a wife. Was it her? Panic rose in him. He was not ready.

“Who are you?”

“Aelin. My name is Aelin Whitethorn-Galathynius.”

Rowan froze. That was his surname and she had used it with what was possibly hers. The woman never moved from her spot. She just stood there staring at him, her blue eyes on him and he had no idea how to react. This woman was apparently his wife. What could he say to her?

“I am Rowan.” He said feeling stupid. She knew already but in that moment was all he could say.

“I know.” She whispered, finally moving a step in his direction “I have known your name for a very long time.”

“I don’t know you.” He admitted feeling his chest tighten.

“I know.” She sat on the chair beside his bed “I know. Amnesia will be temporary. It will slowly start to come back to you. You just need to be patient. Both of us.”

He looked at her and something tugged in him. It was as if although his mind could not recognise the woman in front of him, his body could. It was a strange sensation. The sense of familiarity. His guts were telling him to trust that woman.

“We’ll face it together. To whatever end.”

He had no idea what she was talking about but he wanted to believe her.

“Do you want me to tell you something about us?”

Rowan nodded, eager to piece together some pieces of the mystery his life had become. How had he ended up with her?

Aelin’s hand caressed her stomach.

“We met at University of Terrasen. You were studying law and I was in med school. We had friends in common and I met you at a party and  I thought you were the most obnoxious and annoying man alive.” He heard her chuckle “until a year later when you brought me coffee in the library while I was cramming hard during an exhausting exam session. Then you brought me cake and slowly I realised you were not that annoying.” She continued her tale while her hand gently brushed the tip of his fingers.

“You kept me company and studied with me while I was rambling on medical terms, procedures and other crazy stuff.” He heard her sob “and then we both realised our feeling had changed. We dated. A year later we moved in together. Once we graduated you proposed to me. We got married.” Aelin stood and paced and a ragged sigh left her mouth “after a lot of heartbreak and miscarriages we had our little boy Thomas. A year and a half later Freyja came along as well.” 

Rowan gasped. They had kids. He was married to this woman and they had a family and he could not remember any of that.

“Stop.” He said in a harsher tone than intended “This is too much.”

His wife sat back down and her puffy eyes broke his heart. How was it possible that he felt so heartbroken for a woman he had just met?

Except he didn’t. They had been together for a long time and that feeling of familiarity came back to hit him like a sledgehammer.

“I need to be alone.” He said, turning his head and heard her sob loudly and felt the urge to reach out to her. But he fought it.

He needed space.

“I have to go back anyway.” She stood and pressed a kiss on his head “I will see you later.” And left the room.

Rowan threw his head in the pillow and felt his eyes swell with tears. Why was he crying? Why sending that woman away hurt that much? No, not just that woman. His wife. He had a family, a wife and two kids and all of it felt overwhelming.

He wanted to know more, but at the same time he was scared. What if turned out he hated the life he had? Until his memories started to return he had to trust her. Believe that he had chosen that life.

He sighed and his thought kept going back to Aelin.

Eventually he fell asleep with the smell of lemon and verbena still tingling his nostrils.

Aelin quickly went back to her office, locked the door and collapsed on her chair. And cried. She knew it was a possibility. She had discussed it with Yrene after his surgery. She had been preparing herself for the last month but it turned out she had not been as ready as she made herself believe. In that room she had been a stranger to Rowan. Their kids were strangers to their father and she could not tell him again that another baby was on its way. It would have been too much. 

She cried, remembering how happy Rowan had been when, two months before, she told him she was pregnant again. 

They wanted a big family. They both had good jobs and could afford it. After years of loss they finally had their dream. And then that blasted accident happened. The car driver had hit Rowan and her life was suddenly plunged into hell.

A hell in which for a month she had to tell their kids why dad was not home yet. Console them when they could not play with their dad or have him read stories before bed. Her mum had been helping her looking after the kids while she was at work. But they missed their dad. Freyja especially who was his exact copy and not just physically.

Her sobs grew in intensity. 

She missed her husband too. Her heart ached for him. For the comfort she would find in his arms after a bad day at work. 

Her pager went off and Aelin quickly brushed her eyes and cleared away the tears and left her office in a rush.

She could hide her pain into work. Pretend, for a few hours, that she was not living in a nightmare. That her life with Rowan had not been put on hold. 

For a few hours, inside that OR she could just be Aelin.

[teamatsumu]

Stitches

Summary: You’re just a clueless new medical student. You’re not equipped to deal with charming, witty, handsome doctors. Especially not ones with pretty blue eyes that make you weak in the knees.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,564

Warnings: None. Mentions of blood?

Main Masterlist

Nobody could guess exactly how beyond excited you were for the third year of med school.

This was the year when clinical training officially started. Gone were the long hours of lectures and lab work, it was all about the hospital now. You were beginning to feel like a real doctor. 

You still remembered your first month in the wards. It was all so new and unfamiliar. You had gotten lost in the endless confusing buildings and floors more times than you could count, and despite being six months into clinical training, you still had no idea where everything was. It felt like navigating a maze. 

Patients would often stop you and ask for directions, considering you were wearing a lab coat. You would blink and feel your face burn in embarrassment, having no idea what to tell them. Mostly, you'd just direct them to someone else. On the rare occasion that you knew where they wanted to go, you'd tell them. And then feel powerful for the next ten minutes. 

In the last six months, you had mentally sketched out a few of the many, many hospital buildings you had to work in. And once you had your footing, you began to branch out, finding quieter rooms and clinics where interesting things would happen. This was what the third year of medical school was all about. There were no books to guide you anymore, you had to find your own way. 

"You'll be spending six hours a day in these halls," The house officer, a young doctor who looked less than enthusiastic about teaching medical students, said to your group on the first day. "Make yourself useful. Look around, go into wards, talk to patients, take detailed histories. If you're feeling brave, start practicing blood withdrawal, how to take samples, how to perform simple tests. The labs in the basement are open for all med students. If you practice enough, we'll even let you draw blood from patients. But until then, practice on dummies, and each other."

So that's exactly what you did. You went to the Outpatient Department, you went to the labs, you spent hours in the A&E building. You took blood samples, gave tetanus shots, watched doctors perform ascitic taps and lumbar punctures. It was all so fascinating. Most doctors were amused when you'd walk up to them, shiny white coat, wide eyed, small notebook and pen in hand. 

"This is all going to get really boring in a few weeks, kid." A doctor in scrubs muttered while performing a Double Lumen procedure. You'd seen a few double lumens before, but this one was by far going the smoothest. You could tell he was skilled. You snuck a glance at the hospital card pinned to his breast pocket. Tony Stark. 

"Then I'll just learn as much as I can while it's still interesting." You replied, not being able to take your eyes off his gloved hands as they worked expertly. He grunted in reply. 

When the procedure was done, you wandered off again, in search of something else you could watch or partake in. Your watch told you that you still had a couple of hours before you had to catch your bus home, so you exited Acute Medical Unit and looked around the massive expanse of corridor outside. You were feeling adventurous today, so you decided to try a small corridor branching from the main one. The noises of the A&E faded away as you walked farther, blinking at the white door in front of you. You looked at the sign above it.

Minor OT.

You had absolutely no clue what that meant, but you were about to find out.

You walked into a small room, and were immediately hit by the strong smell of antiseptic. The wall opposite to you was lined by tables. To your left were mounted shelves, filled with boxes of stuff you couldn’t make out from the distance. To your right was a small chair and desk with papers and files covering it. In the centre of the room was a patient couch with a large light overhead and an empty IV stand next to it. 

A man stood across the room, head bent over and back facing you. He turned around when the door squeaked open. His face was covered by a blue surgical mask, and his eyes were covered by huge surgical goggles. He glanced at your lab coat, then back at your face, before turning to the table again.

“Close the door.” He called out, making you hasten to push it shut behind you. You fidgeted where you stood, feeling your eyes water.

“Put those on.” He pointed to a cabinet to your left, its shelves filled with protective equipment. You placed your notebook on the desk and immediately started putting the gloves on. You still had no idea where you were, but it looked interesting enough, so you just went along with it.

“Haven’t seen you around before.” The man commented, still not looking up from whatever he was doing. His voice was slightly muffled by the mask, but the room was small and quiet, so you heard him loud and clear.

“Yeah, I haven’t been here.” You replied, feeling the relief of putting the goggles on and keeping whatever this chemical was out of your eyes.

“What year?”

“Third.”

He laughed at that, turning to look at you. You could see the mirth in his eyes. “Yeah, that makes sense. Senior students don’t give a shit about Minor OT.”

“What do you do here exactly?” You asked, walking over to him. He was much taller up close, and you saw that he was wearing blue scrubs under his lab coat. You could make out brown hair under his blue scrub cap, a small tendril poking out and curling behind his ear. You finally got close enough to see what he was up to, eyes widening when you saw him threading little, curved needles.

“No way!” You gasped, leaning closer to see. “Suture needles?”

You didn’t look up to see the amusement lingering in the man’s eyes as he smiled under his mask, humming in agreement.

"Minor Operating Theatre.” He replied. “Small surgeries. Mostly accident victims. Someone’s going to split their head open and they’ll come here instead of AMU.”

You felt yourself cringe in embarrassment. That seemed obvious enough. Why didn’t you get that? God, you really were stupid.

“So, Third Year,” the man straightened. “Wanna learn how to suture?”

You had never nodded that fast.

The doctor smiled and nodded, shuffling to the side just a bit to make space for you. Then he reached across the table and picked up a small, box shaped dummy. It was covered with silicone skin, and right at the centre was a long, clean knife cut. 

"Alright, look closely." He spoke, beginning to narrate the steps of applying a basic suture on the cut already present on the model. You leaned closer to see what was happening, trying to keep track of which path the needle took, how the thread twisted. In the close proximity, his scent drifted into your nose, a mix of mint and pyodine, and something else you couldn't entirely pinpoint. You couldn't help but breathe deep. He smelled nice. 

When he finally snipped off the excess thread, you exhaled, muscles relaxing. Your eyes were wide and awestruck as you looked at the small, clean stitch on the silicone skin. 

"Your turn." His voice was soft, picking up another threaded needle and handing it to you along with the scissors. 

"I-" You took the materials, feeling unsure. 

"It's okay, Third Year. Not a real person. Go on."

You breathed and began working, feeling your hands trembling with the unfamiliar movements. 

"It's Y/N."

"What?"

You didn't look up as you worked. "My name is Y/N, not Third Year."

You could practically hear the smile in his voice. "Hello Y/N. I'm James."

………………..

The next couple of weeks were spent blissfully in the Minor OT. You hadn’t realized how much you would love suturing and cleaning wounds until you were actively doing it. You also seemed to have a natural talent for it, which made it even more fun. Minor OT was small and quiet, and at most, only two or three patients would be in the room. There was no shouting and chaos like it was in the AMU, and you didn’t have to push through groups of medical students in order to see what was going on. You had the whole room to yourself, with just one doctor guiding you through the procedures, and within a few days, you were so at home that you knew exactly where everything was at any given time.

Speaking of the doctor, James was one of the most fun people to hang out with. He was witty and had a great sense of humor, but at the same time, he was kind and gentle. He was very patient with you when teaching you new techniques, and it was your favorite time of the day. James would lean so close to you that you could feel his body heat on your side. You could see the beautiful blue of his eyes, the same color as the mask covering his face. You had yet to see what he looked like, considering that you always saw him with a mask on. But you didn't need to see his face to know that he was undoubtedly a very handsome man. 

God, you definitely had a thing for him. 

Over the next few weeks, you and him had developed the perfect harmony in Minor OT. Once you knew the basic procedure on dealing with most injuries, you two would work like synchronised machines whenever a patient would walk in. You and him talked a lot as you worked, both to the patient before you and to each other. He'd ask about school and give you tips on how to handle the insane amount of stress. He was only two years out of med school, and looked back at his time fondly. Everytime you would complain about how hard med school was, he’d tell you to chill out and narrate some outrageous story from his days as a student that would make you laugh and shake your head in disbelief. 

On your third day, you applied your first suture on a patient after practicing it on a dummy hundreds of times. A seven year old kid that had fallen and broken her nose. After cleaning up the blood, James handed the needle to you.

“Wanna do it?” His eyebrow jerked up in question. Your eyes widened in surprise but you nodded, taking the needle. James held the child in place and applied the anesthesia, leaving the suturing to you. It was the most intense two minutes of your life. You didn’t breathe for a second. When you were done, James exhaled and nodded in approval.

“Very good, Y/N.” You felt elated at the praise, feeling your heart stutter slightly. James sounded genuinely proud of you, and when you looked up at him, his mask had stretched and eyes crinkled. He was smiling.

You were glad your own mask hid your giddy grin. You didn’t know if you were happier about the praise, or the suturing you had just done.

……………..

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when you found yourself in the hospital cafeteria. You had bought yourself a coffee that was still too hot to ingest, and a textbook was open in front of you. You had a presentation due tomorrow and you hadn't even started working on it yet. So as soon as you were done with the day's mandatory clinical time, you had opted to sit your ass down and actually get some studying done. So far, you hadn't made much progress. 

Your eye caught movement in your peripheral vision, turning your head to look at a tall man in scrubs. Your eyebrows shot up. 

"Doctor Barnes?" 

He shot you a grin. "Mind if I sit?" 

You shook your head and immediately straightened in your seat. "Not at all."

You watched him place an ice cream cup on the table, sitting down on the chair opposite to you. You couldn't stop looking at him, taking in his features. 

He was all sharp jawline and high cheekbones, and now that the cap on his head was gone, you saw his glorious, chestnut locks flow down the sides of his face, brushing his neck. His jaw supported a light stubble that made him look cozy and inviting, and he had the prettiest smile. 

That's it. You were smitten. 

For a few seconds, you couldn't stop looking at his face, darting your eyes everywhere to make your gawking seem a little less obvious. James had the smallest smirk on his face, not looking at you as he ate his ice cream. You pointedly turned your stare down to your book again, but you didn't even bother to read the words. It's not like something was going to get into your head anyway. 

"Pharmacology?" You looked up at James, nodding at his question. 

"I have a presentation due. I haven't even started."

He looked at the clock over your head, shrugging. "You have a good 10 hours. Don't sweat it."

You sighed. "That's what you always say. How are you this carefree?" 

He's shrugged and shot you a cheeky grin so contagious that you couldn't help but smile back. 

"This one presentation isn't going to change anything. Once you get out of school, this'll seem so insignificant. Look at the bigger picture." 

You pouted. "I have to pass." 

"You will. God, you have zero faith in yourself. You need to learn to chill out. I've seen you work. You're so ready to deal with patients. And that's the most important skill. Go easy, okay? You've got this."

You couldn't help but smile at his words. "You're being too nice to me, James. Most of the time doctors love pointing out how stupid med students are."

He snorted and sat back again, digging into his ice cream. "Med students are stupid. But I know skill when I see it."

You blinked. Did he just compliment you or insult you?

"Thank you?" 

"You're welcome. And call me Bucky. That's what I go by."

Bucky. It sounded so nice. So personal. It rolled almost naturally off your tongue. You looked down at your book once more, trying to hide the grin on your face. 

………………. 

You didn’t know when exactly your harmless crush turned into something so much more. All you knew was that Bucky was no longer just the handsome doctor who made your heart skip a beat.

You became kind of like his shadow, following him to different wards and watching him perform both simple tests and assist on invasive surgeries. Since you were with a doctor, you would be allowed into rooms that med students normally couldn’t go into without supervision. You witnessed a liver transplant, a splenectomy, at least three different bypass surgeries, and dozens of biopsies. You watched Bucky deal with emergencies, watched him talk to distraught patients in the softest of voices. You watched him work with steely focus in the most tense of situations, and every evening, you watched him leave the building with a satisfied smile on his face, a huge hoodie thrown over his scrubs and hair falling over his eyes, throwing you a wink as he made his way to the parking lot, leaving you dazed and thinking about him on your bus ride home.

Oh, the sinful thoughts in your head.

It was another such rainy evening when you found yourself gazing down the road, staring at car headlights as they zoomed past you. The poor excuse of a plastic shade overhead did nothing to keep the rain off you, and you could already feel the cold droplets run down your back, making you shiver.

Of all days, the bus had to be late today.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. It had been a long day. You hadn’t slept the previous night because you had an assignment due, so by now, you were nearly dead on your feet. All you could think of was warm sheets that you could slip under and forget about everything. You were so exhausted.

“Y/N!” 

You nearly didn’t hear him because of the patter of rain on the plastic shade overhead, blinking at the faint noise and turning your head to see where it came from. You spotted Bucky walking hurriedly over to you, half heartedly trying to keep the rain from falling on his head using his arms.

“C’mon! I’ll give you a ride.” He squinted at you through the rain, and you quickly shook your head.

“It’s okay! The bus will be here in a bit.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s really no problem okay? And look at yourself. You really need to get home quick or you’re going to drop dead right here.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so hesitantly, you nodded.

None of you had an umbrella, so both of you made a run for his car in the rain, shielding your eyes from the pelting rain. You nearly yelped at how cold it was on your skin, but still persevered, stopping in front of the car Bucky was pointing at.

Bucky was now rummaging through his pockets, trying to find his keys.

“Oh my god, hurry!” You gritted, feeling the cold drops cascade down your back. You heard him curse through the noise of the rainfall.

“I can’t find them!” He yelled back, nealy bending in half trying to dig into his pockets.

“Why didn’t you have them in your hand?” You shrieked. 

It suddenly hit you how comical the situation was, and combining that with your tired, sleep addled brain, you couldn’t help but dissolve into giggles.

Bucky paused in his search, looking at you weirdly. By now, you were both soaked through, his hair clinging to his face and your own falling into your eyes. When he grinned at you and threw his hands up in surrender, letting the rain attack him even more, you nearly doubled over in laughter. You both looked so pathetic, it was beyond funny.

“This seems like a fitting end to my shitty week.” You sniffled, feeling the water go up your nose. Bucky resumed his search, this time less frantic, sighing and jiggling the keys when he finally found them.

“C’mon, it wasn’t that shitty. Nailed that pharma presentation, didn’t you?” He said, making no move to unlock the car. You decided that you didn’t mind. Watching the raindrops trace the outlines of his face was much more fascinating anyway. You watched the raindrops split and haphazardly move through his stubble, finally dripping down his chin. You fought back the urge to push his hair behind his ear.

Bucky, however, seemed to not fight any such urge he had. His fingers moved across your cheek, pulling back the tendril of hair that had stuck to your face. You felt your heart skip, breath catching at the action. He was so close to you. Too close. And the rain was still there, now unnoticed due to his close proximity catching all your attention. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could make out the soft blue of his eyes tracing over your own face.

Then he was kissing you.

His hand found a home on your waist, warm despite the cold rain drenching him, his front pressing to yours, his other palm pressing into the car behind you for support. And his lips were oh so soft, warm against yours and almost feather light. You responded within a second, hands trying to find purchase on his broad shoulders, before tangling in the mess of hair behind his neck. His head was turning, deepening the kiss, body shuffling closer until your back made contact with the door of the car, pressing harder into you. His tongue snuck into your mouth and you nearly moaned, eyes rolling up when his hand traveled further south, grabbing your thigh and hiking your leg up, body nudging even closer to yours, until you couldn’t feel the rain anymore, and it was just him him him.

The kiss ended what seemed like an eternity later, but his grip didn’t hold up. Both of you breathed hard, trying to normalize yourselves, his grip still tight around you, his nose nudging your cheek. Despite the lack of oxygen, you wanted to kiss him again and again. You never wanted it to stop.

“Really shouldn’t be making out in a hospital parking lot.” He mumbled, making a grin break out on your face.

“Yup. Very unethical, Dr Barnes. We need to go make out somewhere else immediately.”

His grin matched yours, leaving another toe curling kiss on your mouth before finally pulling away, much to your disdain. He unlocked the car and opened the door for you, grinning at you through the rain. 

“Shall we go? We’ve got lots of making out to do.”

Your grin only grew wider as you climbed into the car, reveling in the satisfied buzz of your limbs, already eager to have Bucky’s skin on yours once again.

........................

As always, feedback is appreciated!

[dilexit]

Chapter 5: Wilbur do People Think We’re Crazy?

Previous chapter | Master List | Next chapter

✎ Wilbur x GN!Reader

✎ Word count: 1.4k

✎ Summary: Two idiots probably spill ketchup on their fancy clothes while filming a documentary

✎WARNINGS!: food (breakfast and mcdonalds), Meds ( unspecified literally just mentions that Y/n took their meds in the morning if it doesn’t apply to you sorry and if it does then don’t forget to take them and take care of yourself), I think that's it but if not feel free to tell me

✎ Sorry, sorry, sorry IDK if anyone saw one of my latest posts where I talked about where I've been and so if you didn't long story short I've been in and out of the hospital for reasons. I'm fine but then they thought I wasn't fine so I had to stay longer then I normally do but I'm okay. Y'all can't get rid of me that easily oh and then finals rolled around and that was #stressful but anywho I've got the shorter chapter out and hope for more frequent updates sending my love,. Oh and also happy holidays -Summer

Y/n swung their feet over their comforter finally getting out of bed as they really didn’t feel like going to school today. Their first class was Media Studies which was always a great way to start the day. Besides today on their schedule rotation, they didn’t have bio which was a win in their book. Techno had his gym period before school started so that he could get a free period during the day and it was his turn for the car so Y/n had to take the bus with Wilbur which was only embarrassing because they were seniors. Y/n quickly got ready for school grabbing their backpack and camera bag making sure they had their lenses and went to the kitchen. They filled up their water bottle, grabbed a bar for breakfast, and took their meds.

“Love you Ma/Pa,” They yelled as they left walking to the bus stop. Their bus stop was pretty close by and only had one other person at their stop who Y/n had gotten used to over the years. He was a Junior named Sapnap. Over the years Y/n got to see him grow up into the loud-mouthed teen who played football and had seniors as best friends. They could still recall when he was a little kid throughout elementary school with panda keychains and blueberry muffins every day for breakfast. Y/n’s grip on their camera bag tightened as they started to feel it slip.

“Hey, Y/n long time no see,” Sapnap joked he would also normally get driven to school but his ride also took the same gym class as Techno so here the two stood. “I haven’t seen you at any games,”

“Oh yeah,” Y/n stopped choosing their words very carefully so as not to hurt his feelings. They settled on the college lie. “I’ve been busy with my NYU application,” They laughed holding up the camera bag. There was a lol in the conversation as he had seemed to get a text. Y/n looked down at their phone checking the time, 7:24 which meant the bus should be there soon. When the bus pulled up Y/n was glad that they had a predetermined bus buddy as faces filled every seat. Alas over the mass of people Wil’s hair was seen and the yelling blond behind him was a telltale. Y/n started forward and pulled in the seat. The bus smelled like BO and Y/n could feel their legs sticking to the seats.

“Still on for Thursday?” Wilbur asked mainly as a joke

“Oh yeah definitely also I was checking the weather, our schedules, and such and I was thinking we should camp on the beach on Saturday. It’s supposed to be warm but windy so comfy camping weather plus we have a whole day to put our backs back in place from sleeping on the sand.” Y/n said looking down at their nail beds and picking at some fuzz.

“Oh um actually I can’t do Saturday,” Wilbur spoke hesitantly and Y/n’s eyes shot up to his, their eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “ Well you see I’ve got a project for calculus which sounds like a shitty lie but I promise you it’s not,” He defended himself more when seeing the Y/n wasn’t believing him.

“Ok fine what is it then,” Y/n asked

“So my partner and I need to design an attraction for an amusement park and use calculus to make it safe but fun. It’s really dumb but Sally and I have to meet up outside of class for it and we chose Saturday.” Wil’s hand was rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down, a subtle pout on his face, feeling bad for forgetting about their plan.

“Hey Wil stop that, you look like a depressed pug and it’s hurting me. Don’t worry but then why don’t we just camp on the beach Friday night that way you and Sally can do your dumb math thing and I can edit the videos from that night,” Y/n was upset that Sally would be interrupting one of the most important projects Y/n’s ever worked on. It stung even more because Y/n knew that Sally was crushing on Wilbur but then again Wil’s an oblivious idiot when it comes to feelings and Y/n knew that better than anyone.

…...Thursday Third Period…....

Y/n absolutely hated their math class, not only was AP calculus stupidly difficult even when they didn’t mind the subject, but their teacher was horrible. Mrs. Mejers was a very nice woman, she was just boring. The subject at hand required focus that needed to be held and without a teacher that could do that Y/n struggled just a little bit. This class was always slow but the clock was moving what felt abnormally slow due to Y/n’s excitement for lunch. They had grown to love crossing things off the list, it was such a happy moment for Y/n and Wil. Y/n had stopped paying attention as class was ending so they were antsy. It was only calculus and google gave Wilbur a run for his money in the best friend department. Then just like that the bell rang telling Y/n, it was time for lunch. They rushed out of the classroom down the winding halls, nearly walking into obnoxiously large groups of freshmen who didn’t understand how hall's work. They had made it to the arts wing of the school which was four halls that awkwardly jutted off from the main hallways. M hall was a fun little inlet in between P and L hall which both lead into R hall which was the main art hall. Y/n’s locker was right outside of their photography classroom and only a short walk to Wilbur's locker in R hall. They grabbed the change of clothes in the drawstring bag when they felt a hand on their shoulder causing them to jump

“Hey ankle biter,” Wilbur said giggling a bit at Y/n’s jumpy nature, “I’m ready to go when you are,”. Y/n looked Wilbur up and down before walking into the GN bathroom and quickly changing into their fancy clothes then dropping off the bags into their locker and turning to Wil.

“Ok let’s go Lankenstein,”

“You’ve wounded me, love,” Wilbur says holding his hands to his chest, Y/n chose to ignore the feelings bubbling up in their chest and instead shoved him lightly. The two friends walked out of the school laughing like idiots while looking back on footage from Y/n’s SD card. In the car, Wilbur played his music stupidly loud but Y/n couldn’t find it in themself to care, instead singing along with him. When they made it to the McDonalds parking lot Wilbur stayed seated quickly tying his tie which made Y/n giggle from the memories of Phil teaching them how to do it. The two stepped out of the car and Wilbur holds out his hand. “You ready love,”

“I always am,” Y/n joked as a mental counter for the heat rushing to their cheeks. The pair walked hand in hand, and because it was a McDonalds and it was the high school lunch rush, it was crowded. They got a few looks but not as much as they expected. Y/n had to sneakily film with their phone which physically pained them just a bit but after asking for permission to film at their table Y/n was able to use their beloved Canon EOS Rebel setting it on the table. Wil got up to get their food before Y/n started talking to it, “So this is number four dress fancy and go to McDonalds. Wil’s getting us food but yeah future Y/n cut to a fit check while I wait for Wilbur and our food.” The two got back to school in record time only being around five minutes late to their classes due to Y/n needing them to take a mirror selfie for the documentary. While teachers were a little unhappy with their tardiness they luckily didn’t get into trouble. If only they knew the trouble that was about to come…

Tags (Open):@daninotfound-alt @chlorofume @reverse-iak @kiritokunuwu @boiled-onionrings @momo-has-a-gun @boyleanti @luluwinchester @sad-t-an @angelicaschuyler-church @victoria-a567 @veratiserum-amore @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy @liawhite3 @wtfwriter @moonscastella

[thefirsthogokage]

So, I fully believe all medication should be free, but I know even in the best healthcare system it would be at best little cost.

I know a lot of doctors can be shit at their jobs and pharmacists can be assholes and insurance companies are always shit in at least some capacity.

However, that doesn't mean all medications should be available over the counter without a prescription.

Most people don't do research on medications even when they are prescribed or before they take over the counter medications. So, if medications are available to everyone without a prescription, people will just start buying them willy-nilly without knowing anything about them.

You take a medication for something you think you have, but don't? You could end up killing yourself.

Doctors go to medical school for a reason. They specialize in different areas for a reason. There are thousands and thousands of medications out there, and not all of them get along, and some medication combinations can cause lethal side effects.

There are many medications where the wrong dose can kill you. There are medications that you have to know the potential side effect of, because some of those side effects can be life-threatening. And letting a bunch of people who don't do research and haven't studied for years about prescribing medications is a BAD idea.

Wanna know some meds that could kill you if you don't know a thing or two about them? Ok:

If you take Lamictal (which is an anticonvulsant that also can help with the mood swings of bipolar disorder) and increase it too fast, or stopped taking it at a high dose and want to restart at that high dose, and you get a very specific kind of rash? That's something that means you stop taking the medication immediately and get your ass to the hospital right away or you could die.

You take methimazole (for your thyroid being an asshole) and start getting a rash? Guess what! You gotta stop taking that too because that could also be fatal.

You stop your Xanax or Clonazepam cold turkey? That could cause seizures.

You get your hands on some ADHD meds because you think you have ADHD and you don't and take them at some random dose because you don't know how that works and you don't have ADHD? Well good luck on surviving that overdose!

There are also medications out there are the exact opposite of what you should be taking for some illnesses. Exact opposite as in they could kill you.

The general public doesn't spend years studying all of this. Doctors and pharmacists do.

You don't want your pilot or bus driver or the dude next door with the Katana collection to suddenly start taking meds that they never did research on, and end up not taking the right medication or the right dose and things go very, very wrong, do you?

Didn't think so.

Once again, yes, I know not all doctors and pharmacists are created equal, and some of them should have never been allowed into their profession in the first place, or need to be kicked out because they certainly shouldn't be doing it anymore. But there are plenty of them that do their jobs and paid attention to their training, and have done their own research, and studied things about meds that most people don't even think about.

(And for the record: Yes all insurance companies are heartless monsters.)

I completely understand there are many fucked up things about healthcare in many countries. But there is a reason getting prescriptions is a thing. And that is a whole system set up differently than people buying weapons and other things that can be used to harm others. Those things can't even be compared.

There are many good reasons why people need to be qualified to prescribe medications. And the general public is never going to be responsible enough to at least actually do the research on their own, but probably also become knowledgeable enough about dosing to do that properly.

Prescriptions are a thing for a reason.

[roberttchase]

Manner minded or double trouble? Both SO matty? Maybe Christie looking after him?

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

I will be writing the manner minded one separately :) I hope you enjoy this (somewhat more detailed than I'd originally planned) ficlet.

Send prompts to my inbox.

+ + +

If you were to ask Matt Casey if he thought he was lucky, for the most part he would answer with 'no'. Yes, he's lucky enough to have Sylvie Brett as a girlfriend, lucky to have gone to the fire academy, lucky to have been promoted to a lieutenant and then captain. But he also had an emotionally abusive father as a teenager, a murderer for a mother, his girlfriend of eight years was killed, his wife left him. For every good thing, it feels like there are three bad things in his life.

So he can't even really say it's a surprise when, while on scene helping squad rescue two victims in a car that's balancing precariously close to the frozen Chicago River, Matt loses his balance, slips from the hood of the car, and falls almost twelve feet onto the ice that then suddenly cracks underneath him, submerging him in below forty degree water. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Intense pain radiates from his chest, his body feels like it's on fire, and then nothing.

From there, the scene is absolute chaos. Sylvie and Violet are both off shift, spending the entire week in Joliet helping teach at a conference. The two paramedics that are on scene are instantly calling for backup, while both Severide and Tony frantically suit up in scuba gear for precaution. Boden's yelling orders, but the three other members of truck are all frozen, staring at the large hole in the ice, from which their Captain is currently very much not getting out of.

+ + +

"Christie, you really don't have to do this, Severi-"

"I know what Severide said, but I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed with me." Christie Casey frowns, looking at her younger brother. He's at least four shades paler than he should be, cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Stubble consumes the lower half of his face, and the firefighter looks exhausted. She can't say that she blames him, not with the hell that he's gone through the past thirty six hours.

She'd gotten the call from Stella Kidd yesterday, a kind but shaky voice telling her that Casey, Matt, had fallen into an icy river, and was at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center being treated for two broken ribs and mild hypothermia. Arriving half an hour later, she'd been taken into Matt's room, where they had him on enough pain medication he was basically incoherent. One of the doctors had explained to her that the next few hours were important for any person who'd almost drowned- inhalation of the river water had occurred, and aspiration pneumonia was a large possibility. For a naive moment, Christie was certain that Matt would be fine.

Matt's never that lucky.

It's how she finds herself now, half glaring at her brother, who's been given instructions to stay with someone for the next forty eight hours, while his body wars with itself. The red haired doctor had explained that unless the mans fever reaches over 102, or his breathing deteriorates, he's allowed to stay out of the hospital. Severide's offered to let him stay at the loft, to take next shift off and watch over his best friend, but she tells her brothers best friend no. She needs to be able to watch over her little brother, if his paramedic girlfriend can't.

She's already talked to Sylvie, had called her only an hour after getting the call herself. They'd come to the conclusion that as long as someone was there to watch Matt, she needed to finish up the week for the CFD and CEMS.

"You ready to leave? I'm bringing you back to my place. Violet's got the guest room all ready for you."

Matt blinks and then nods, shoulders curved in slightly, one arm wrapped around his side. He looks a little woozy, though that could be from the pain pills being pumped through his body. That, or the fever he's sporting. April wheels him to the front of the hospital while Christie grabs her car and pulls it up to the curb.

Half an hour later, Matt's being helped into the guest room, where, sure enough, the bed has fresh sheets and a few extra pillows have been added for the man who isn't supposed to lay flat on his back. She gets him under the covers, thankful he's cooperating, and by the time she's back with the meds in a little plastic cup, as well as a glass of water, Matt's asleep.

"Matt, hey, you have to wake up and take your medicine, then you can go back to sleep, okay?" She shakes him as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt his ribs any more than they already are. She must knock something loose though, because not a second later he starts coughing, low and harsh, and his eyes flutter open. Gasping for air, they wait for his chest to stop spasming. His arm is cradling his side and she feels terrible, wishing she could help.

"I just need you to take this medicine, then you can sleep again," she promises, holding the cup out for him. When he nods, the woman lets the small pills tumble onto his open palm, and soon he's swallowing them tiredly.

"C-Can you stay?" The words are quiet and hang in the air as she turns to leave. Pausing, Christie turns back and is struck by just how young Matt looks, laying there with fever flushed cheeks and sallow skin.

Moving slowly, the woman gets into the other side of the bed, carefully shifting to get comfortable.

"Just like old times huh?"

She knows he's referring to their childhood. Christie can't help but smirk a little at the memories.

"Are you talking about when you would come crying to me because you were afraid of the dark?" Her tone is teasing, and instinctively she lets her fingers find his hair, running them through it just like she did when they were young teens and their father had been yelling at them.

A laugh bubbles out of Matt's throat, but it quickly changes to coughing, and it takes a moment for Matt to calm down, sipping water before replying.

"I was actually talking about when I was eight and caught whatever that punk across the street had after he coughed on me. I remember I was out of school for a week, and you stayed with me as much as you could."

She remembers it well.

+ + +

Matt never gets sick, not when he was a baby, and not now. She's always been the one to come down with colds or strep throat, and Matt always manages to avoid germs. He had been sick once when he was a toddler, once, but other than that, she can't remember him ever even getting a runny nose. And then Michael Jeffries goes and coughs all over him on the bus when she's in fifth grade and he's in third, and Matt's record of not getting sick goes down the drain.

It had been on a Monday. That following Thursday afternoon, Christie's waiting for Matt to get on the bus when their bus driver tells her that her brother has apparently gone home early. The whole ride home, the eleven year old is upset, not for her brother, but at the fact she wasn't taken out early either. Why did Matt get to go home and play when she didn't? By the time she's walking into their small home, the blonde is stomping her feet and slamming the door behind her, ready to ask why her stupid brother gets such special treatment.

Instantly though, she realizes something is wrong. Mommy isn't downstairs like she normally is, but instead of being worried, the girl let sher anger build. Running up the stairs, her ponytail swaying behind her, Christie's ready to yell and throw a tantrum, but she freezes when she sees her mom sitting on Matt's small twin bed. She's holding their big blue bowl that she always gets out when Christie's stomach is sick, and Matt is throwing up, coughing and spluttering after, while she rubs his back. Cautiously, Christie walks into the doorway.

"Mommy...what wrong with Matt?"

Nancy and Matt look up, the older woman rubbing her sons back.

"Matt's just not feeling well honey, he'll be alright."

Christie frowns and looks at her brother, whose cheeks are a startling bright pink, his skin pale.

"He looks really sick..." Suddenly she's not mad at all anymore, instead she's worried, no, scared. Matt doesn't get sick. That's his superpower, just like hers is liking vegetables.

Before any more words are spoken, Matt coughs and lets out a strangled little whine. "M-Mommy..."

Christie turns her face away as Matt gets sick this time, not wanting to watch anyone throw up. Instead, she goes and busies herself with finding paper and her crayons. Sitting down on her bedroom floor, the eleven year old goes to town with making her brother a get well soon card, the only thing she knows she can do in this moment.

That night, while she and mommy eat downstairs, Christie can hear Matt crying with Daddy. The second she finishes her food and washes her plate off, the blonde runs upstairs, wanting to make sure the younger boy is okay. She stops in front of his room, but no one's there, the twin sized bed with dark green sheets is empty, even his beloved stuffed bear is gone. Walking further down the hall, she sees the two she's been looking for in her parents king sized bed.

Matt's laying against Daddy, Bear clutched in his hand, his ear against the boys lip. Daddy smiles at her and puts a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Nodding, Christie tiptoes in and peers at them both, before climbing in putting a delicate hand on Matt's shoulder, hoping he'll be ok.

+ + +

Brought back to the present, Christie feels Matt's forehead and sighs. "just try and sleep okay? I'll be here if you need me, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you Matt."

It's as if it's all he's been waiting to hear. It takes him all of two minutes to fall back asleep, head resting against his sisters shoulder. She supposes that this can be the start of all the years she'd missed taking care of him after she'd left for college. He deserves it.

[mallowstep]

(dark room, red light)

"Do you think we count as first generation college students?" Mothpaw asks, staring at the application.

"Feathertail's working on her degree," Hawkpaw says. "And Stormheart has one."

"Yeah, but — does that count?"

"Looking it up," Frogpaw calls. He's staring intently at his phone. "According to this, our biological parents are what matters."

None of them say anything.

* * *

They moved rooms as a tenth birthday present. Stormheart slept in Stonefur's room until the basement was done being finished for him and Shadepelt, and Frogpaw took his old room.

Mothpaw moved into what was nominally Feathertail's room. There were still fragments of her mother, in the curtain and sheet choices, but there was a layer of dust on everything, and nothing else to remove.

* * *

"You can still change your mind," Stonefur says. "I don't mind driving back."

Mothpaw twists the ring around her thumb. It was a gift from him a few years ago. "No," she decides. "I'm ready to do this."

Stonefur nods. Frogpaw came a few years ago, and Hawkpaw is preparing to make what he says will be a final trip. Stonefur squeezes her shoulder. "Let's head in, then."

She's not sure what she expects. They stare at each other for a long moment, and Mothpaw is acutely aware of the conversations happening beside them.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Tigerstar says.

Mothpaw hesitates. It's not nice to meet him, she doesn't think. She's not sure why she's here, except that in a few months, she'll be in a new place, and Stonefur's standing offer to drive her several hours will be gone.

"I hear you got into college. Majoring in — biology, was it?"

He knows that's wrong. "Pre-med." Mothpaw takes a deep breath. "It's an accelerated program."

Tigerstar smiles, like he is proud of her. "And — outside of school? What do you do?"

His eyes are the same colour as hers, she realizes. They're the same honey amber she sees in the mirror every morning.

"Not much. I've volunteered at a hospital for a while. And I've been taking classes at the community college."

She looks at her hands again. Tigerstar clears his throat. "Can I ask you a question, Mothpaw?"

She nods.

"Why now?"

It's harder to answer than she expected. He waits, looking at the space between him, as if he's trying to give her time. She fights for an answer that's not, Because I wanted to know I had taken the chance. Chance of what, she's not sure.

"I'm going pretty far for college," she settles on. "Running out of chances."

Tigerstar nods, like this all makes sense. "I'd love to continue our correspondence," he says, like she writes him back. "Send me your address, won't you?"

Mothpaw doesn't answer.

* * *

Freshman year, they all had to take a class in critical thinking and current events.

Each section would present, and then debate an issue in front of the whole grade at the end of the year. Mothpaw's group worked on some mundane policy change. She didn't really care if the city enforces stricter water usage rules on companies. Maybe she should.

Hawkpaw and Frogpaw were in the same class. Their teacher was young, contentious. They prepared for a debate about gun rights. Mothpaw thought that would be the hot button issue of the year.

"When should inmates on a life sentence be offered parole?" a student read.

Mothpaw shifted in her chair. Never, she thought.

The presentation was just an overview of the issue. The debate started with, "Should Tigerstar's request for parole be granted?"

Their teacher smiled from her position as the moderator.

"He's served fifteen years," the yes side began. "With excellent behaviour. Why not let him out?"

Leafpaw squeezed Mothpaw's hand.

"He would be released into the same community he hurt," the no side argued.

"He was a respected politician for years."

"He was proven guilty in a court of law."

"Why shouldn't he get a second chance?"

"From Mistyfoot's testimony, 'The night he was reelected.' And then, after a follow-up question, 'He told me that the election was why he was celebrating. And celebration meant we were all under scrutiny. He'd beat you for the slightest misstep.'"

"From Feathertail's testimony-"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Hawkpaw shouted. He stood, livid, his fist clenched.

"Hawkpaw," a teacher said.

"You don't get to drag her name in defence of him," he seethed. "This isn't some petty corporate dispute."

Someone took Hawkpaw outside. The teacher of the class indicated for them to continue.

"From Feathertail's testimony," the student from before continued, looking far more hesitant, "in response to the question, 'When did the night of the party happen?', she said 'over the summer,' which couldn't have been his reelection."

"There's still no reason to release him into this community."

The auditorium doors opened again. The same teacher who pulled Hawkpaw out flicked the lights. "Can I have Mothpaw and Frogpaw?"

Leafpaw gave her hand another squeeze, and Mothpaw grabbed her backpack.

"We're sorry about this," the teacher said. "We didn't realize a teacher would choose something like this. Hawkpaw is waiting in the office -- we still have to call your parents-"

"Mother," Frogpaw said. "You have to call our mother."

"We have to call your mother, then, about the incident, but I'm sorry no one warned you."

"It's not right," Mothpaw said. "Hawkpaw was -- you can't get him in trouble for this! This isn't -- they're debating people's lives," she said.

"Our lives," Frogpaw said. "They're going to stand up there and debate whether we should have to-" His voice cut out.

"It's protocol," the teacher said. "The two of you can wait in the office for the rest of this section's debate."

* * *

Leafpaw slips notes into Mothpaw's locker. It's the only reason she bothers opening it.

lunch at 1 tmrw? is received on a Friday afternoon. Mothpaw answers it with a kiss on Leafpaw's cheek.

* * *

Leafpaw started spending her afternoons at Mothpaw's house in seventh or eighth grade.

"Squirrelpaw's at field hockey practice, and the house is just so lonely," she complained, until Mothpaw finally just asked Feathertail if Leafpaw could come over.

"Of course she can," Feathertail said. "Is she staying for dinner?"

But having Leafpaw in her house for the first time felt strange. They were school friends, or they spent weekend days at Leafpaw's house, or they met for a movie.

Stormheart joked about how they really did need the minivan, and Leafpaw flipped through her list of assignments. When they got to the house, Mothpaw dragged Leafpaw through a tour by the hand.

"Sorry about the whole row of photos," Mothpaw said. "Stonefur's a little obsessed."

Leafpaw giggled. It still felt weird, to have Leafpaw sitting between Mothpaw and Stormheart, to see her converse next to Mothpaw's flats and Frogpaw's sneakers, but it felt right at the same time.

* * *

"It's a strange thing," Mothpaw says, delivering a valedictorian speech, "to leave behind all you have ever known. We are all moving onto our own paths, now. Some of those paths might look similar to where we are now, but some of them won't."

She smiles at her family watching her.

"But we've all been on the same path for a while. And I think most of you-"

She faces her class for a moment, mostly to train her eyes on Leafpaw.

"I have to face forward, or the mic won't pick me up," she says, raising more laughter than she expected. "But I think most of you are thinking of all the worst moments here, and how excited you are to leave it behind. Maybe not. I think I'm allowed to say that I am."

A few more laughs this time.

"Freshman year, end of the year debates. I'm pretty sure that's on a lot of lists. When the lights in the bathroom on the third floor kept turning off too soon sophomore year. Our bus running out of gas coming home from a field trip. But we've all gone through that together."

Mothpaw takes a breath. "We've been through all of that together, and that time is ending. In a few months, I'll be apart from my brothers for the first time, and I'm not sure if I'm thrilled or terrified. And I'm supposed to have a moral, a theme, a key point, but I don't, not really. I hope we all do well. I hope we are all happy."

[la-li-lu-le-lol]

Im absolutely desperate for more of red collar job!! Is there anything you want to say about it? Did you originally have different plans? Do you have any details you had to cut that you're still attached to? Anything else?

Aw, anon! ;w; you're making me blush, here. Thank you. There will be more soon, I promise! Within 4ish weeks but still.

I do have some stuff I wanna say about it! It is under the cut.

There was a LOT of content that was written but left on the cutting-room floor. I was originally going to have not-Snake take the form of multiple people Hal knew - Huey, Julie, Emma, etc. I was originally going to have Hal *successfully* shoot not-snake in the first chapter and become shell-shocked by how nasty and realistic a point-blank rifle shot to the head is. In fact this was where Huey was going to first show up - after not-snake 'died' Hal was going to feel a hand on his arm from behind. the hand was gonna have a wedding ring, and moving sunlight patterns of water reflections on it, and he was going to hear huey's voice saying "I'm so proud of you." Then he wakes up. Bunch of ideas like that one! The dream sequences are always the hardest to write. I decided to delay that moment and then thought it through a little more wrt character, and it got ironed out into what it is now.

This story was originally going to be absent the paranormal/psych-horror B-plot entirely. I already had chapters 1-4 mostly written without them before I had a lightbulb moment and added them in. Listening to your self-indulgent thoughts is a good thing, actually.

What Not-Snake is, or even whether it/he exists or not is (generally...) meant to be ambiguous and up to reader interpretation. My word isn't law, but while penning out its/his mythology, I leaned a little on concepts like the unseelie fey and the irish fetch. Chapter 8 also has a lot of satanic symbolism with varying levels of subtlety lol but that was just for fun.

Many of the horror elements, like the concept of "somebody" familiar and beloved to you behaving in threatening and frightening ways that don't match with their image that you trust, are heavily inspired by the Higurashi visual novel. This scene in particular should look familiar. Skip to 1:53:49.

(Or, if you would rather not read and see the short version in the anime.)

As a final and more personal note, I have a lot of very strong feelings and investment about the fic's subject matter. I am writing this fic as somebody with a pretty severe aversion to medical procedures (Needles are a problem to say the least) and gore, but I also have a deep interest in those things at the same time, because feelings are complicated. I went to a high school with a medical magnet program where we took super specialized classes, basically like pre-pre-med. I loved that shit and did well, but in my Junior year, we did "internships" (we didnt do anything like actual medical interns are supposed to, we were just observers) at hospitals and clinics around town. I saw some pretty intense stuff without having been truly prepared for it. There were a couple incidents with me walking out or leaving the bus and hiding somewhere so I wouldn't have to show up. After a couple months, I requested to be taken out of the rotations program and I never finished that course. All of Hal's anxiety and disgust is very real and written from that experience. This fic has given me massive amounts of catharsis in writing somebody learning how to do something I never could.

Thank you for your curiosity. ❤️

[takkarulz]

For HisoMachi week! @hisomachiweek

Link to the AO3 version

Modern day AU, rated for teen and older audiences.

Day 4: AU

Almost normal

York Shin Hospital, Friday, 6: 30 pm.

It was a burning hot afternoon and Machi Komachine had just finished her shift at York Shin Hospital. Despite her youth she was one of the most prominent plastic surgeons of that hospital and her pay check, along as her pink Gucci handbag and her BMW Grand Coupe reflected that. People believed that she was vain and some people hated the way in which she flaunted her luxurious lifestyle, however, the fact was that Machi in reality was pretty much a self-made woman. Born of refugee parents in the poorest slums of the city and often taking multiple odd jobs to make the ends and spending countless nights reading complicate textbooks, first to study in the best technical high school of her city and then in one of the top public universities of all the country, so all those years of sacrifices gave her the right of displaying all her wealth and hard-earned money.

She was about to get in her car and leave when a she saw two teens passing near her.

“Why don´t you have a car yet? I though your family was rich!” said Gon Freecks to Killua Zoldyck.

“I still have no driver permit. And I really don´t want to ask my parents to pick me!”

“Then ask your brothers to drive us!”

“Illumi is working out of the city most of the time and Milluki does not even share his French fries at Mc Donalds, let alone his car!”

Machi feel a bit of compassion of them. For what she had heard Gon and Killua were students and the same technical high school for nurses and future med students that she attended and probably that day they had gone to the hospital for a school related activity. Machi knew that probably they had lots of homework and things to do at home so giving them a small ride could help them.

“Hey, you two! Do you want me to drive you near to your house or a bus stop? I have to pick my fiancé from his job at Hotel Beitacle at downtown and then we are gonna dine out at The Chimera Ant.” Said the pink haired woman.

“That fancy restaurant of Netero Avenue?” asked Gon.

“That one.” Answered Machi.

Gon got a bit surprised after knowing that Machi and her fiancé were going to eat at such a fancy restaurant. Judging for Machi car and general apparence that guy must be also as wealthy as her, probably even more. Maybe that man was a lawyer or a powerful CEO.

“It is near to the subway and Gon´s house, so it seems ok.” Said Killua.

“Yeah, just let me message this to my auntie, so she knows where I am!” said Gon.

Machi smiled at them.

“That is a smart move kiddo, in fact I can even get you directly to your house if you want.” Said Machi.

“Sounds fantastic, but as long as you leave me at the subway with Killua it is ok! Thanks Mrs. Komachine!” concluded the darkhaired boy smiling

Hotel Beitacle, Friday, 7:00 pm

“This is the worst clown show I have ever seen in my life! You should feel ashamed of giving my daughter such a horrible Quinceañera party show!” screamed hysterically a middle-aged man with a mustache to Hisoka.

Light Nostrade was the owner of the famous fashion brand Oracle and one of the richest persons in York Shin City, while Hisoka Morrow was just a brand new clown and party entertainer, freshly out of clown college.

“Sir, your daughter wanted a horror themed Quinceañera party and that is what I gave her, besides she was laughing at my jokes.” Said Hisoka without bothering himself much.

“Did you really had to make a fake decapitation joke involving a man in a toilet? Don´t you think that it is gross and vulgar?”

“Yes, it is gross and vulgar, that is why is funny! Besides everything we used for that prank was fake and edible, we used Nutella and crunched cookies for the poop and cherry jelly and strawberry syrup for the blood and guts! It was very tasty!” said the clown smiling.

“That is horrible! Absolutely horrible! My poor Neon is going to have nightmares caused by your horrible and degrading antics! Not mention your whole butt dance! It was supposed to be a family event, not a bachelorette party in Las Vegas!”

“Hey, it is called twearking, everybody does it now days. Plus, it is a great way to keep your ass in shape!” said Hisoka spanking himself in a comedic way.

“Still, that is so gross and horrible! My daughter is going to be traumatized by it!”

“Well, trauma or not, I will not give you back your 200 dollars.”

“Bullshit! I will not pay you! In fact, I will call my lawyers to sue you for…”

“Sue me for what?”

“Child corruption!”

“Sir, you make your daughter pose in lingerie and skimpy clothes for your stupid brand of clothes, even in magazines aimed at adults. Making a girl like Neon work in such stuff should be labeled as child sexualization and exploitation…” said Hisoka smugly, but before Mr Nostrade could reply him a phone call from Hisoka cellphone interrupted the conversation.

“Oh, sorry, sir. I have to go. Let’s talk about it latter, I got to see someone really important!” said Hisoka, running away without answering his phone, leaving the angry parent alone with his complains.

Outside of Hotel Beitacle, Friday, 7:15

Machi had already called her fiancé five times and he had not even seen her answers. Either he was still in the show or he was just being an asshole as always. Killua decided to play some video games in his cellphone, while Gon on his part started at the window of the car, saying nothing, just contemplating the people passing by the street and the guests who arrived at the hotel. It looked that there was like a big party, probably a Wedding or a Christening, perhaps a Quinceañera or even Bar Mitzvah. He still remembered when he went to Killua´s Bar Mitzvah a few years ago, it had been quiet fun, despite all the fancy etiquette of the Zoldycks family and the weird boyfriend of Killua´s older brother. Every time that Gon thought about that guy he felt chills down his spine. That man looked like some kind of ghost or evil clown, very tall, pale, full of weird hair dye and uncannily creepy. As far as he knew Illumi had already broken with that clownish guy, focusing instead in his career as costume designer for theatre plays and soap operas. Good for him, thought Gon.

“Mrs. Komachine, but how much is going to take your fiancé to get out there?” asked Gon a bit bored.

But before he could have an answer, he saw a creepy familiar face approaching to the car making him and Killua scream in horror.

“Hi, Machi! Sorry for my lateness, I was dealing with work stuff.” Said Hisoka as he entered in the copilot seat smiling, with his face still plastered by his horrible clown makeup and costume.

“Is ok. Just don’t be late again or I won´t invite you to any fancy place anymore.” Answered Machi after kissing the clown and turning her car on.

“And who are those cute guys back there?” said Hisoka smiling playfully at the teenagers.

“Pff… just two kids for the technical high school for nurses. I gave them a little help to reach their homes, cuz I don´t want them to walk too much as I did when had their age. Specially with all those thieves and creeps roaming out there.” Said Machi.

“Ohhh, you are such a sweet woman!” said Hisoka in a low voice.

“I am as sweet as cyanide, so better watch out.” Concluded the doctor in an icy cold voice.

Gon and Killua stayed almost in absolute silence, counting in theirm minds the seconds so they could go out of that car and be free of that creepy clown. Finally, they reached the Netero Avenue near to the subway station both teens rushed out of the car without making any noise asides of a “small thank you” to Machi, running inside the station as the car went away.

“Why the fuck did that fancy lady was dating the ex of your brother?” said Gon still scared by that clown.

“I have no idea and at this point is better to not have any idea of it.” Said Killua, still shocked by the way in which that clown was able to get a hot rich girlfriend despite of being the sleaziest clown he had ever even meet.

The Chimera Ant restaurant, Friday, 8:00 pm

“Hey, Pitou, I know that you have a lot of job right now but, why does that customer is dressed like a clown?” asked Knov, a worried chef to the receptionist.

“Dunno, but it seems that does not violate any dress code. And he said that he liked my new hair dye!” Said the receptionist smiling like a kitten who just cached his first mice.

“Still is very weird and I don´t like him much.”

“Well as long as our manager does not complain there is nothing, we can do about that clown guy.” Said the receptionist.

“But Pitou! She is blind, she is never gonna know that there is a man dressed as a clown here!”

"Then tell her that there is a clown." said Pitou.

"She is never gonna believe me!" screamed Knov.

“Well, unless she or the chef says something that is not our problem.” Said Pitou.

“But Pitou! That clown scares me!”

“Damn, you used to work in the military and now you are scared by a clown?”

“I say that clown is cursed! He looks evil!” said Knov hyperventilating and sweating as he saw the clown approaching to him.

“Excuse me sir, I know that my fiancé already asked for the bill for our table, but can I get another scoop of bubble gum ice cream please?” asked Hisoka to the waitress who just fainted in the place.

"Well, he is not a waitress, but even if he was I doubt he is gonna do anything now that he fainted. By the way I like your clown costume, it looks like a fusion of a diabolic harlequin and Caesar Romero´s Joker. " said Pitou to Hisoka.

"Oh, thanks sweety. Now, let me call my fiancé, I know she would help this man..." said Hisoka.

"Why did think your fiancé is gonna help him?" asked the Pitou a incredulously.

“Fuck off albina bitch, I am a doctor and for fucks sake I will help with this man.” Said Machi arriving to the scene crudely, while she started to examine Knov.

“That´s my woman!” cheered Hisoka, making the receptionist, genuinely intrigued.

How it was possible that a clown like him could date a doctor like her?

That was a mystery that deserved to remind unsolved.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Familiar

Fandom: Chicago Med / One Chicago

Character/s: Will Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,481

Request:  Hi there, can I get a Will Halstead x reader imagine, please? Where the reader is a childhood friend and he used to only see her as his little brother's friend, nothing more despite the reader having a crush on him. When he transfers to Med, he bumps into this gorgeous doctor who looks familiar but he doesn't know who she is as she refuses to tell him her name and he keeps flirting with her. Until one night at Molly's when Jay finally tells his brother who she really is. Ending up to you. TQ x

Moving away from Chicago had been one of the most difficult decisions of your life, but it’d been worth it. You loved your home, but forging a path for your self in a new city had been rewarding, and it’d turned you into the person you were today.

Even so, stepping through the doors of Chicago Med, now an attending physician, you felt a sense of pride and... relief. You may have come a long way, but there was no place like home. 

You spotted a doctor on the other side of the room, red hair making him stand out as he mulled over something on a tablet. It’d been years since you’d seen Will Halstead,; you and Jay had been close friends in school and you’d had a not so subtle crush on his older brother, not that he’d ever recipricated those feelings of course. Still, it was good to see him again, and he had no idea that you were even a doctor now, let alone that you were back in Chicago. 

You’d drifted from the Halstead’s when you moved away, something you’d always regretted, and you’d reached out to Jay when you knew you were coming home to try and reconnect, but you’d wanted to surprise Will your first day at Med.

“Everybody listen up!” A woman’s voice yelled, bringing you back to reality as she got everyone’s attention, “there’s been a bus crash on the freeway, ambulances will be arriving any minute, it’s going to be a busy day,” she explained and you saw everyone rush around as you quickly threw your stuff in the doctor’s lounge and gloved up.

So much for any introductions on your first day, straight in the deep end it was. “Newby, sorry I can’t remember you name,” that same nurse who’d just spoken, her name tag told you she was Maggie Lockwood, came over to you quickly, “I want you to take cases with Doctor Halstead today, he’ll show you the ropes,” she gestured to Will, who was on his way over just as the first paramedics burst through the doors. “Treatment one!” Maggie told you both as you made your way to the first victim.

“I’m Doctor Will Halstead-” he began to introduce himself, did he not know who you were? You were just about to respond when your patient began coding, you had more important things to worry about. 

And so began one of the longest days of your life. 

-

You and Will had spoken a lot through out the day, but it had all been medical, you’d been far too busy for proper introductions or breaks of any kind, and by the time you made your way into the doctor’s lounge you took a seat on the sofa and had a long drink of water, wiggling your toes and rolling your ankles as your feet throbbed.

“Hell of a day, but you handled it like a pro,” Will commented, wandering in and going to his locker, “welcome to Chicago,” he laughed and you smiled, realising that he really did have no idea who you were.

“I’m actually from Chicago originally,” you told him, standing up and putting your things away as he looked back at you.

“Oh yeah, where abouts?” He asked curiously.

“Canaryville,” you replied, having way too much fun teasing him about this. Did he seriously not remember you at all? 

“Me too!” He said excitedly, “what a coincidence,” you could barely contain yourself at this point but you held it together, letting him finish up at his locker. “Oh, sorry, I actually never got your name,” he continued, looking back at you apologetically as you laughed.

“You know what? That one I’m going to let you figure out,” you told him, finding his puzzled expression amusing.

“So you’re not going to just tell me?” He asked and you shook your head, he mulled it over for a second before grinning, “would you tell me if I took you out for a drink?” You blinked, taken back by his response, your old crush on his flaring up at the way he was regarding you.

“You don’t even know my name and you’re asking me out?” You definitely hadn’t expected this, but you were curious to see where it was going.

“Kind of feels like I already know you,” he answered honestly, looking you over again like he just couldn’t quite place you. Good, you thought, deciding to keep messing with him.

“Uh huh, you use that line on all the girls?” You teased, grabbing your coat as he kept staring at you.

“Molly’s, it’s a bar we all go to, great atmosphere and good drinks if you’re interested,” he suggested. 

Were you really being asked out by Will Halstead? “...well I could a drink after the day we’ve had,” you decided, wanting to play this out as long as you could.

“Great, I’ll see you there,” Will grinned, another doctor coming in and requesting his help with something before he went home.

You waved him off and walked out the hospital smiling, unable to believe what had just happened. Maybe not telling him who you were was unfair, but he was the one who’d forgotten you, so you didn’t feel all that bad as you headed home to get ready.

-

You’d applied a little more make up than usual, and your top was a little lower than the kind you would have usually worn in this situation, but as you stepped into Molly’s and saw Will at the bar, and the way he was looking at you as he took in your outfit, you knew you’d made the right decision.

“Hey Will,” you greeted him as you took the seat he’d saved for you.

“Hey... I’ll greet you with your name but I still don’t know it,” he hinted and you laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, I get it, drink first,” he surrendered, letting you order whatever drink you wanted and you settled in to chat.

“You always ask out women you don’t know?” You inquired as you received your drink.

“Do I need to know a beautiful woman’s name to ask her out?” He flirted, continuing as you took a slow slip of your drink, trying not to get too flustered, “especially when I’ve spent the day watching her take care of patients left, right and centre, you were practically superwoman in there,” he finished, clearly enjoying the red that had crept into your cheeks. Damn your awkward teen self for still letting Will Halstead have this affect on you.

“Oh so your plan is to flatter me into telling you my name huh?” You challenged and he shrugged.

“Is it working?” He tried.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, looking away from his intense gaze and into your drink.

Will looked about to say more when he was distracted by someone coming in behind you, looking back a little to see Jay entering and walking over. Well, it was fun while it lasted, you thought, realising Jay was definitely going to blow your cover.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” Will greeted his younger brother.

“Yeah well it was Y/N’s first day at Med and I heard it was a busy one so I thought I’d come see how she did,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but watch Will’s confused face as the gears in his head slowly started turning.

“Y/N?” Will repeated.

“Yeah, Y/N Y/L/N, remember?” Jay replied slower, clearly unsure why Will was confused at all.

“Oh, Y/N, of course,” Will clicked, at least remembering you as a child, “I didn’t realise she was back in Chicago.” Now Jay was definitely puzzled, looking between his brother and your very amused self before turning back to Will.

“...you do know she’s sat right in front of you, right?” He told him, laughing as the shock crossed his face as he looked at you again like it was the first time, actual recognition finally dawning.

“No way, Y/N... I didn’t recognise you,” he admitted as you burst out laughing.

“Oh yeah, I kind of noticed that,” you said as Jay clapped his brother on the back, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’ll be back in a bit then, looks like the two of you have more catching up to do,” Jay laughed, heading off in the other direction to a booth. You still couldn’t quite believe how long it had taken for Will to realise it was you.

“My bad,” he apologised, rubbing the back of his neck, “should we start again?” He offered and you nodded.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you agreed.

“Get you another?” He gestured to the drink you’d nearly finished, still looking at you in a way he certainly never used to.

“I’d like that.” If only your teenage self could see you now.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Still Living With Your Ghost

Hawkeye shows up on BJ's front porch one year, two months, three days, and seven hours after the Korean war ends. And he looks - Jesus, he looks rough. Tired and pale and wearing army boots and his blue Hawaiian shirt. He looks like a ghost.

BJ can't not invite him in, even though it's the middle of the night and Hawkeye can't really seem to explain what he's doing in California beyond something about wanting to see palm trees. So BJ gets him tucked into bed in his and Peg's unused guest room – still mostly empty even though the house has been finished for a while now. But it doesn't appear to matter much to Hawkeye, he passes out pretty much the minute his head hits the pillow.

BJ wakes up the next morning, sure that all of this had been a particularly vivid dream. But there Hawkeye sits, in BJ's living room, flipping and flipping and flipping through the television channels at whatever ungodly hour Erin has decided is morning.

BJ rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning, Hawk. Sleep well?”

“Morning, BJ.” Hawkeye springs up from the sofa, like he used to spring out of his army cot. Like he's just been sitting there, waiting for BJ to wake up so he can drag him into whatever mischief he's dreamed up.

But this isn't Korea. BJ doesn't play those kind of pranks anymore.

And it doesn't look like Hawkeye is going to answer BJ's question. So BJ just works on getting the coffee percolating and making sure Erin doesn't throw cream of wheat all over the kitchen.

Peg drifts out of their bedroom a little later, takes a piece of toast from the table, kisses BJ on the cheek, collects Erin out of her high chair, and breezes out the door. Off to meet with a client, probably. Which means that BJ's stuck staring at a fidgeting Hawkeye from across the table, silence stretching awkward and molasses thick between them.

“So, uh, how you been, Hawk?” BJ thumbs at a chip in the Formica of the table top.

“Oh, you know. Busy. Doctoring.” Hawkeye is looking wildly around the kitchen and he hasn't touched any of the food on his plate. “Looks like you've really been living the high life here, Beej. Look at this place! Nice, real nice, BJ. You're a lucky guy.”

“Yeah, yeah I sure am.”

“And you're still a surgeon? Working at a hospital and everything?” Hawkeye's now looking intently at a point just slightly to the left of BJ's eyes, expression fixed in something that could be described as a smile, maybe.

“Yep. Nothing as exciting as Korea, though. I took out a gallstone two days ago, and that's been the highlight of my week.”

Hawkeye laughs, too loud and too sharp. And he's back to looking wildly around the kitchen, peering into the living room, rocking sideways in his chair far enough to almost overbalance. “That's nice. Not exciting is nice. Boring. Quiet.”

“Yep.”

Hawkeye is now tearing his paper napkin to little shreds that he's sprinkling over his eggs like snow.

“Look, Hawk. Not that it's not great to see you and all. But what are you doing here?”

Hawkeye goes back to staring at the point just slightly to the side of BJ's face. “Oh, you know. Thought I'd drop in on my good buddy. And see some sun, some sandy beaches – you're a little lacking on both fronts here, Beej. I confess myself disappointed. This isn't the California all those travel brochures promised me. Swimsuits and suntans. Palm trees.” Hawkeye waves his arms wide, gaze rocketing around the kitchen. “Where are they, BJ? Where are the palm trees?”

BJ laughs. “You're a little far north for that kind of thing. We mostly have rain and fog.”

Hawkeye nods. Grimaces. “I hate the rain. We spent years and years and years in the rain. Or the snow. So many years.” Hawkeye's staring again. “You know how cold it gets in northern Maine? I want. I wanted some sun, you know? A change of scenery.”

“Well, since you're in California already, you could drive south, you know. It's a ways, but you could go find a beach and some palm trees, like you said.”

Privately, BJ thinks a little sun would do Hawkeye a world of good. He's looking even paler than usual. Wan. Tired. Like he hasn't been sleeping.

“Yeah? You think so?” And Hawkeye looks up at BJ with such hope in his eyes. It's blinding. Terrifying.

So that's how BJ finds himself in the family station wagon with Hawkeye lounging practically sideways on the front seat, staring out the rainy window at San Francisco as they head south on Route 5 towards warmer climes.

“You know, I've never been to San Francisco,” Hawkeye says conversationally. They're driving through down town, and the tall edifices bear down on them like giants. Hawkeye has to keep his neck craned up, up, up to get even a glimpse of the gunmetal sky. “I've been to San Diego. Spent a whole weekend there when I was in med school. But I never quite made it to San Francisco, somehow. Surprising, I know...” Hawkeye trails off with a vague gesture.

“It's a nice city,” BJ says, inanely. But he's not quite sure what's happening here. And small talk is about all that's left to him.

Hawkeye smiles, sharp as a knife. And there's something lurking there behind his eyes that BJ can't identify. “I'm sure it is.”

They drive in silence for a while.

Suddenly, Hawkeye's head snaps down and to a street that runs towards the bay. “What's down there, Beej?” He asks it almost desperately.

“Uh, the docks I think.”

Hawkeye nods. Tips his head towards the ocean like he's listening to something far away. His eyes skitter over the dashboard desperate and wild.

“Lotta kids shipped out of those docks the last two wars,” Hawkeye says, apropos of nothing that BJ can understand. “Lotta kids who never got to come back home.”

“Uh, yeah. Though I guess they were hard up enough for doctors that they sent me over on a plane instead.”

Hawkeye nods distractedly, knee jostling against the passenger door. He's staring out the window again.

“Hey, Beej, pull over will ya? I really need a drink.” He gestures at a bar that BJ probably wouldn't have even noticed if Hawkeye hadn't pointed it out. BJ pulls over. He could use a drink himself. He'd forgotten how – how strange and alluring and difficult Hawkeye could be.

The bar is dead this time of day. Empty except for a few older men who look like they've probably been sitting on those same bar stools for the past decade or so.

Sitting at a shadowed corner table with a bottle of bottom shelf gin and BJ can almost believe he's back in the Swamp. That no time at all has passed since Korea. Hawkeye is certainly drinking like that's true. It's almost nice, the nostalgia that's carried on gin fumes.

And Hawkeye has calmed down a little as he sits there, no longer looking like he's going to crawl out of his skin. In fact, he looks almost wistful as BJ chatters on about Peg and Erin and his life in Mill Valley. Though what part of all that it is he longs for, BJ doesn't know. He'd never expressed much interest in marriage or kids before. But maybe he's finally looking to settle down.

BJ muses on the impossibility of a settled Hawkeye while the real one heads off to the bathroom. The bar has filled up in the intervening hours and it's hard for BJ to keep track of his skinny frame and dark hair, even as tall as he is. Though Hawkeye's usual slouch has gotten even more pronounced than it was in Korea and that doesn't help matters any.

BJ wonders what exactly happened to him to change him so much. To wear Hawkeye down like he's been.

But before he can think too long on it – before he can become maudlin – Hawkeye's back at their table and putting a wad of crumpled bills down on the scarred surface. Clearly a sign that he's ready to leave.

They troop a little unsteadily out to the car.

“So, how'd you find our fair city?” BJ asks as they pull out into rush hour traffic. The had really slipped away from him in the warm dark of the bar. He'd had no idea it was so late.

“Well, I can now say I've sampled all of the bountiful pleasures that San Francisco has to offer.” Hawkeye grins bright and sharp even through the alcohol. “So what's say we blow this joint and go find some nice sandy beach somewhere? Preferably a nude one.”

BJ grins at him and turns onto the highway.

They drive past rocky coastlines and pine covered mountains. BJ thinks Hawkeye falls asleep about an hour or so in, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, eyes closed and face marginally more peaceful. But it's hard to tell.

At some point, though, Hawkeye jerks upright, looking around frantically, as if trying to figure out where he is.

Where they are is the vast empty farmland west of Mendota. Hawkeye spends a few miles staring out at the fields as they blur past the window. BJ leaves him to it.

In all honesty, BJ is starting to wonder if this was the best idea. Hawkeye seems scattered and distracted and manic like he was at the end of the war. Like he'd been after the bus and before he'd been committed.

Maybe BJ should have kept him in San Francisco. Called Sidney. Gotten Hawkeye some help instead of driving hundreds of miles to some unknown destination for some unknown agenda.

But they've already come this far. It would be dumb to turn around now.

“Did you know,” Hawkeye says in a voice that can barely be heard above the radio and the incessant thrum of the tires on asphalt. He clears his throat and tries again. “Did you know that during the Great Depression they used to gather all the unsold fruit and pour gasoline on it so that the starving people fleeing the Dust Bowl couldn't eat it?”

Hawkeye's staring intently at the side of BJ's face, more than wide awake. And maybe BJ spoke too soon.

“Uh, no. I had no idea.”

Hawkeye goes back to looking out the window. “I always thought that would be a terrible way to go,” he whispers so quietly, BJ isn't even sure he's talking to him.

A few miles later, they hit a town big enough to have a diner. Hawkeye's still quiet and staring, and it's past seven anyway. They may as well stop and get some dinner. Hawk hasn't really eaten anything but a handful of pretzels all day.

They both order cups of coffee and BJ watches Hawkeye add something out of a hip flask into his mug. Hawkeye obviously catches BJ looking and waggles the flask in his direction, offering. BJ holds out his own cup. This is feeling... This is feeling a little too close to Korea, all of a sudden, even though they're smack dab in the middle of California. And the liquor burns harsh and familiar down BJ's throat.

He coughs. “You make this yourself, Hawk?”

Hawkeye grins. “A guy's gotta have a hobby. And most of mine dried up after the war.”

BJ assumes he's referring to chasing nurses. He sure spent enough time at it – even if he was never all that successful.

Before BJ can get too far into asking Hawkeye about his triumphs or trials in the pursuit of the fairer sex – always sure to elicit an amusing (or steamy) anecdote – the waitress returns to take their order.

Hawkeye gets a hamburger and french fries. BJ orders a chicken sandwich and Hawkeye flinches so he orders a hamburger instead. And when the food gets there, Hawkeye devours his meal ravenously while BJ chats about Erin's recent trials with attending daycare since Peg is out of the house some days for her real estate career.

Hawkeye's obviously not one for conversation tonight, so BJ just keeps talking about his wife and his life and his beautiful, perfect, wonderful daughter. And Hawkeye sits in the booth, leg jittering against the tabletop and he tears his napkin into shreds and lets them snow down onto his empty plate. And when the waitress stops by again to top up their coffees, Hawkeye drinks about half the cup all in one go and then refills it with moonshine.

He's so alike and unlike the Hawkeye from Korea. The Hawkeye BJ knows more intimately than pretty much anyone other than his wife. And BJ can catch glimpses of that man in Hawkeye's gestures or his terrible honking laugh. But in a lot of ways he's a complete stranger. And it's difficult to sit there in the diner – in the real world – with this man that's half myth and half ghost and from a part of BJ's life that he'd honestly rather forget.

It's almost a relief to settle up and get back in the car. Hawkeye isn't asleep, BJ doesn't think. But he is quiet and still and content to just stare out the window into the empty dark.

In the car, in the dark, nothing is real. It's not like the harsh light of the diner where he can see Hawkeye. Here, BJ can pretend that nothing about what's happening is strange. He can pretend everything is normal.

But eventually it gets late enough that he's got to stop driving or he's going to fall asleep at the wheel and run them both into a ditch. BJ pulls into the first motel he comes across. And it's shabby and rundown, but a far sight better than a tent in Korea, which is where he half expects to collapse tonight, stuck as he is between past and present, waking and dreaming.

The only problem is that there's only the one bed.

BJ offers to sleep on the floor. But Hawkeye says he's being stupid and that it's not like they haven't slept together before. Which, that's stretching the truth a little. But BJ doesn't really want to sleep on the floor.

So that's how he finds himself laying in bed with Hawkeye - who's obviously still awake, BJ can see the gleam of his eyes in the dark – and feeling intensely awkward about it. It's a double bed, but they're both tall. BJ could probably fill up the bed all on his own. It's difficult to keep from touching Hawkeye - especially because if this were him and Peg, BJ would be spooning his wife, curling around her back, holding her in his arms. And BJ hasn't really slept with anyone other than her for a long time. Which is why he has to fight himself not to do the same with Hawkeye. A Hawkeye who's whispering a soft goodnight into the darkness between them.

BJ turns to face away from him and tries to go to sleep.

He wakes up to Hawkeye sitting bolt upright in bed, tears streaming down his face, absolutely dead silent as he cries.

BJ reaches a tentative hand out, lays it whisper light on Hawkeye's shoulder. “You ok, Hawk?”

Hawkeye turns his unseeing eyes to BJ, tear tracks gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the motel curtains. Blinks a few times, as if he's surprised to find BJ really there. Reaches out with a trembling hand to brush the tips of his fingers butterfly gentle against BJ's cheek.

“Beej?”

“Yeah, Hawk. I'm here.”

Hawkeye crumples forward into BJ's chest. And BJ holds him in his arms. Feels the silent sobs that wrack his skinny back.

“I dreamed that this was all a dream,” Hawkeye whispers into the join of BJ's neck. “That I'd lost you and I couldn't find you – no matter how much I looked and looked and looked.”

BJ gathers Hawkeye closer. “I'm right here, Hawkeye. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Hawkeye pulls away from BJ's arms. Looks up at him – and he looks, he looks sad and understanding and gentle. “Everyone leaves sometime, Beej. I won't hold it against you.”

And then Hawkeye's getting out of bed to go take a shower.

BJ feels strangely bereft without Hawkeye in his arms, so he busies himself getting ready to leave. It's still disgustingly early – the eastern sky just barely starting to turn pink – but it's not far to Los Angeles now. And BJ doesn't really want to spend any more time in this dingy, claustrophobic hotel room than he has to.

When they descend into Santa Monica, Hawkeye perks up from where he'd been sitting listless in the passenger seat. He practically has his head sticking out the window like Waggles does, staring out at the silvery gleam of sunlight on the ocean. Practically vibrating in his seat at the knowledge that they're getting close to the sandy beaches his heart desires.

BJ exits off of Route 5 and takes them through the wide boulevards and down to the beach.

Hawkeye grabs his arm on the steering wheel. “Look, Beej! Palm trees!”

“Yeah, Hawk. Just as advertised.” BJ smiles at Hawkeye fondly. His excitement is infectious. Buoying.

So different from his mood just a few hours earlier.

When they get to the actual beach, BJ has barely parked the car before Hawkeye's flinging himself out of it and down onto the sand. A cacophony of seagulls spirals into the sky, squawking at being disturbed by a six-foot plus lunatic sprinting towards the water.

BJ watches, amused and perplexed as Hawkeye starts throwing his clothes off with wild abandon, stripping until he's down to his skivvies, barely halting his headlong scramble towards the water. And he switches to genuine incredulity when the now mostly naked Hawkeye flings himself into the surf, struggling out past the breakers, until he's genuinely swimming in the marginally calmer water of the Pacific Ocean.

“Jesus Christ, Hawk,” BJ calls out to him from the beach. “Come back up here, you loon. You're going to get hypothermia.”

Hawkeye grins back at BJ as he floats serenely on his back, waves bobbing him gently up and down, hiding and revealing him from BJ's view. “Good thing I know a doctor then, huh Beej?”

But Hawkeye does eventually emerge from the water, shaking himself kind of dry – and splashing freezing water all over BJ's shirt. He's smiling big and genuine, and BJ thinks this whole trip was worth it just for this moment. Just to see Hawkeye look happy and unburdened and mischievous like he used to look. Like he looks in all of BJ's best memories of Korea.

BJ thinks he could stand to stick around Santa Monica a while longer. So they get Hawkeye dried off and bundled up in dry clothes and they head for a little cafe just off the beach so they can eat breakfast. By which BJ means he eats breakfast and Hawkeye drinks five cups of coffee and steals one piece of BJ's toast. But it's an improvement on yesterday morning.

And then they bum around the waterfront, stopping in at the little tourist traps, showing each other dumb knickknacks. Hawkeye discovers an especially hideous Hawaiian shirt at one of the stores - and almost talks BJ into buying it before common sense (and the thought of Peg's reaction) prevail. Hawkeye pouts, but grudgingly admits that a shirt covered in scantily clad hula girls might not be the best thing to bring home to one's wife. Though it's not like he knows what wives do or don't like, Beej, honestly. And BJ supposes that's true enough.

Eventually, it gets to be late enough in the day that other, far more sane people start gathering on the beach to swim or sunbathe or whatever. And Hawkeye takes this as his cue to drag BJ back to the sun and sand and palm trees he's so obsessed with. BJ goes willingly enough, truth be told – Hawkeye's led him far more terrible places than the Santa Monica public beach.

And it's nice to laze around in the sunshine with Hawkeye reading next to him, shaded by the parasol he'd brought along in his ratty army duffel. Honestly, BJ's heartened by the fact that Hawkeye planned this trip out well enough to bring things like swim trunks and sun block and a truly terrible pair of Groucho glasses instead of sunglasses. It makes all of this feel more like a prank and less like Hawkeye's unraveling again.

It makes BJ almost happy to remember all the trouble they used to get up to. Makes him able to tell stories back and forth with Hawkeye, able to quibble about the details when one of them insists the other had been responsible for whatever part of their prank had gone wrong. Hell, they even reminisce about Charles, and that's someone BJ had been more than happy to never think about again.

Anyway, it's all really nice. A nice vacation from the real world.

But that's all it is. All it can ever be. Because he's got a wife and a kid and a life waiting back for him in San Francisco. And Hawkeye's probably got a half dozen girls waiting by the phone for him to call.

“C'mon, Hawk.” BJ claps his hands brusquely and stands. “We should probably start heading home if we want to get in by dinner time.”

Hawkeye looks up at him from behind those stupid, stupid glasses. And it's hard to tell, but he might just look as conflicted about leaving as BJ feels.

“Yeah, ok, Beej.” Hawkeye stands and brushes sand off of his trunks. Starts putting away his beach towel and umbrella. Knocks against BJ's shoulder, a friendly little nudge. “This sure was fun while it lasted, though. Kinda wish we could've stayed here forever.”

BJ nudges him back. Gets him moving in the direction of the car. “You can always come back again.”

Hawkeye smiles sadly. “It wouldn't be the same.”

And then they pile into the car to head back to San Francisco. Hawkeye stares out the window again, curled up against the passenger door. Obviously not feeling like talking any more. So BJ just concentrates on navigating the way home.

The drive goes much faster this time, probably because they don't stop anywhere. And because BJ's a little lost in thought. Seeing Hawkeye again has brought up a lot of memories he'd done his best to bury when he went home to Peg and Erin and real life. The station wagon's bench seats feel full of ghosts.

None more haunting than Hawkeye Pierce – famed in song and story – a half buried memory of the worst parts of BJ's life. And currently curled up in the front seat of BJ's car like the remnant of a terrible, wonderful dream. So he's got a lot to think about.

It's no wonder BJ startles when Hawkeye brings a gentle hand to his shoulder. They're home. And they've apparently been sitting in the driveway for a while if Hawkeye's teasing, “Nice of you to join us, Beej,” is any indication.

“Sorry, Hawk. Lost in thought.”

“Well, don't hurt yourself.” Hawkeye smiles bright and warm. Like the sun.

And then they're both turning sideways to face one another. Hawkeye's hand is still on BJ's shoulder, light but so, so heavy.

And then Hawkeye kisses him. Sweet and chaste and far too brief.

And BJ wants to cry at how right it feels. How much of a culmination of their entire tumultuous friendship it feels.

At how much it feels like goodbye.

“C'mon, Beej. Let's get you home.”

Hawkeye claps BJ with the hand on his shoulder, brusque and friendly. And Peg's standing on the front porch, waiting for him. And Hawkeye's got a Greyhound ticket back to Maine in his pocket.

They leave the car and head into the house.