#I think I'm at peace with that choice now but it's hard not to double-guess myself

[rawliverandcigarettes]

As they passed from iron to a lush carpet Shlee understood; he was built for escape —everything in his DNA honed for evasion. Why did any of the T’selvis ever think they could keep him from the stars.

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✨ READ HALFWAY HOME'S CHAPTER 18 HERE! ✨

(MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS AND STAY SAFE.)

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The night Shlee hatches in the trunk of a skycar, an asari watches and cries. She promises he will survive, at all and every cost. Shlee believes her. He stomachs the resentment of his alien sisters forced into hiding with him, and dreams about the stars. But the Milky Way is vast, swirling; painfully interwoven. And when Shlee begins to wonder who he is, who he should be, and what secrets keep this fragile galaxy from splitting apart, perhaps it’s already too late.

(this story is complete; new chapters will be published every Thursday!)

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Link to my Ao3

Link to Story Presentation Post

Link to the Trigger Warning List

[hourglassian83]

Is Suhaib in prison for pretending to be a cop at the dentist? es.

Why is him and his cop sweat shirt and the dentist flashing in my head? es.

It is flashing at me like no one business. I know rape. 41 years. jail. es. smartypants.

?

Come off as Suhaib. Pretending to be a cop. Rape. 40 years.

This scenario played out as Deb telling the cops that Suhaib used to get me drunk to have sex with me, and I thought through my prison stuff that they discovered the truth. So I sat here going, they cared enough to charge me, but not get me out?

Then I thought maybe they told PSL and then didn't do anything because of lawsuits.

But I didn't want to jump to that conclusion because I wasn't sure if I was running a possible scenario that I usually take as 50.50 because with my life, anything is possible, so I tend to prepare for possibilities so I don't get hard with it.

Or that you placed it in my head, so I figured I ask first before saying anything about it.

Yeah, he is a turd for sure and when I left I had come to accept that fact he will never face a judge for it. Although he was with someone afterward and I felt sorry for her, I guess she never reported it. I think.

She did? Yes. Nothing. Yes.

Yeah, that seems to be the theme here. I understand that there are women out there that makeup shit like this, and that angers me deeply because look what is happening here.

However, we are talking about police. What is their job? Investigations. There is a reason because you cannot determine who is the victim or the abuser if you don't. Duh. That is on their hands.

There are so many of us out there in such a need for the police. I don't how you can wear a badge and call yourself one when you are no better than the villain.

Peace Solider. God sees it all.

I am proud of her for standing up for herself and giving it a go. I know that it is embrassing as hell how they investigate this and I don't think it has to go that far, but what do I know.

Sometimes, it's better to walk. You know just got through being raped out of your mind and then the system does the same thing. That's a double whammy and it can destroy someone's sexual health with it.

At the beginning of all this, I was very angry about the idea of having to explain to a bunch of strangers my sex life. It is none of anyone's business and to be judged and everything over it? I know I wrote into prison but I sure in the shit do not owe anyone explanation or need their damn judgement on it. Excuse all of you. But that's what they do.

I was so angry about it that I would ended up embarrassing the fuck out of everyone in the room. Sorry, go fuck yourselves. But, I was still going to do it.

I'm glad that I have too, you know. Jeff isn't worth it. He is already checked out, you know. And if zoloft was the reason why limp dick is that, it's a blessing. Now, I am not going to belittle molestion because it racks up, but the fact that it did happen has been a BLESSING.

Since he has basically canned himself that, I have been able to start the process ridding my of it. It is empowering to be ridding myself of him while he still in the room.

It's like, my mind is like a superpower, (expect the other night. We are still talking about that!), whatever I tell it do it, it just does.

He is just a walking talking mental illness, and addict, you gotta love that and nothing more.

He is not even here, he never was. He is adrift in a a grey cloud, Permittly in blast off or my case, tradgey ville. I didn't even think you can function up there.

He is just not home. It makes so much sense now. He is nothing.

Yes. I agree, he is not. I have tried to find some gold in him, the best I had found is broze. Even Deb and John had a few nuggets.

Forgiveness. Of course. Mentally Unwell. Didn't have the choice. Lessons in the afterlife and peace for me.

Okay, thank you so much, Jacob.

Peace for everyone.

The Peaceamaker.

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 12

the Darkling x Reader

The hour was late as the stars basked in the darkness and cold winter air. The fire roared in its hearth while your still steaming cup of sleep-aiding tea sat untouched on the small table. Your talk with Alina earlier was the cause of your unrest. You didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or be frustrated with her. She is a lovely girl, most pure and kind and quite literally the definition of sunshine, but something about her irked you and you hated it.

Maybe it was her somewhat unhealthy obsession with her friend, the tracker- Malyen Oretsev, or the sheer denial and lack of understanding of her position. Sure, Mal was the only thing that tied her to her old life, a sense of home, but he didn't belong anywhere near the Little Palace and posed a threat to Alina's true potential. She should understand that, no doubt it's been explained to her many times. She was no longer a random girl from the First Army or a Child of Keramzin, she was the Sun-Summoner and had to act the part.

But there was also a nagging feeling in you since your last words with Aleksander, the ones about the stag. From what you could gather, Alina definitely wasn't power-hungry, not yet anyway, and placing an antler anywhere on her would be against her wishes. You knew deep down that whatever he had planned would go far beyond just giving her an amplifier for her sake.

You sighed and moved around on the armchair again, trying to convince yourself those were the reasons you couldn't sleep, that Alina's position in this mess was why your mind wouldn't shut off, but who were you kidding, it was her and him. For starters, she called Aleksander by his name. The second the word left her mouth, your blood ran cold.

__

'Is he not here?' Alina looked to you from over her mug, eyes scanning the room.

'Who?'

'Aleksander, is he away at Kribirsk again?' Your smile faltered and your grip on your own mug loosened. But Alina waited for an answer.

'Oh umm, I don't know.' You did but the shock caused your mind to blank completely.

__

You had known Aleksander for years before he even told you his true name, you had to earn it. She spoke of her General with a fondness, at one point even speaking of him as if he were more than just her commanding officer.

__

'Do you miss the First Army Alina? I know you left friends behind, not just Mr.Oretsev.'

'I suppose I don't feel at home just yet, it's a lot to take in, this whole division of orders thing doesn't help either... But he assures me I am not alone, that I have an equal in the Palace.'

An equal?

__

The heat of the fire was doing nothing to calm down your rising rage. Apparently Aleksander was doing more talking with Alina than you'd thought, even sacrificing his own true name, one only spoken by you and his mother, for her to utter as if it was just another name. So what if you were in his chambers, making use of his office and sleeping in his bed, he clearly had his eyes on two prizes or maybe just one.

You felt sick now, be it from the heat or the anger, you got up and opened a window. The cold and dark night was a stark contrast to the licks of the flame. It made you feel at peace, but only momentarily. You heard voices outside, slowly growing louder. You rested your head against the wall, begging for one last moment of stillness, but alas the door was yanked open and his boots echoed throughout the room. You cursed yourself for deciding to spend another night in his quarters. You thought he'd be gone longer than just 4 days.

'I do hope you made yourself comfortable' His voice was as smooth as the kvas you had downed after Alina left. You wanted to turn around, but the anger was still there and all hell would break loose if you let your emotions run wild again.

'I did thank you. At least you have a desk'

'I'll get you one first thing in the morning'

'No need, I already requested one' Your voice was void of any emotion. Don't start a fight.

'Are you alright?'

'Just tired, being diplomatic is hard work' It sure was right now.

'Might I suggest actually getting into bed then?' His hand slowly came around your wrist and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom but ironically at the simple touch, your anger grew, when it usually has the opposite effect. You saw out of the corner of your eye that he had a genuine smile on his face, one that tended to make you melt but not now. You shrugged him off and walked in the direction of the door, leaving him utterly confused.

'Y/N what's going on.

'I'm tired, I'm going to bed' You tried so hard to act normal, not in any way pissed.

'Y/N look at me'

'Goodnight Aleksander' You couldn't help it, the mockery of his name just came out. There goes the diplomacy.

You heard him quickly walk towards you and tried to get to the door first to escape the tense atmosphere you created but he got there first, blocking your way.

'What?' You threw your hands up in exasperation not yet looking at him.

'Did something happen whilst I was away?'

'No'

'Then what is it'

'Nothing'

'Don't lie to me Y/N'

'Oh but it's okay for you to lie to me' Your eyes finally bore into his.

'Excuse me?' His expression read baffled; annoyed; pissed.

'Move away from the door Aleksander'

'No! You're going to be mature and have an actual conversation with me for once' He asked for it.

'Alright fine, Let's start with Alina''

'Y/N'

'I had a lovely little tea party with her today. Sweet thing. She loves to talk once you get her going. She told me a lot of fascinating stuff, including your name! How interesting don't you think.' Your voice was so cold it even made you shiver.

'I can explain'

'I'm not finished.' You felt that pull in you, that pull that comes before you put your fire or shadows to use but crammed it down with all your might. 'Her best friend hasn't been replying to any of her letters and I can recount there are many of them. Guess what I found in one of your drawers? They are all very poetic don't you think? I'm all for helping her adjust, but that's not help, that's manipulation Aleksander.'

'She won't let him go, It's dragging her down.' He said through gritted teeth.

'Dragging her down or away?' The double meaning in your words didn't go unnoticed by him.

'Y/N all I want to do is go to bed right now, I've had a long day, please.' His hand reached out for yours but you scoffed and moved away.

'You wanted to have this conversation, General, don't shy away when your actions are questioned.'

'Fine' He unblocked the door and crossed the room, throwing his cloak and kefta on the floor with a heavy thud. 'Is there anything else you wish to accuse me of Y/N dearest?'

'Look at you, so bitter but I haven't heard you deny any of it'

'You may go now if you like.' He picked up a decanter of whiskey and poured himself a generous glass

'Since when are you this childish Aleksander. Have I missed something in my 100-year absence?' You mocked.

'You left me with all of this' He gestured to the palace. '-That's what happened.'

'Don't turn this around on me, and I told you that wasn't a choice.'

'The Y/N I knew would have come back and not hid like a coward'

You stilled and waited for any sign of apology, but it never came. He meant it even though he knew how much such a simple statement would hurt you. You turned slowly and walked to the door.

'While I'm gone, at least have the common decency to change the sheets before you bring Alina in here' you shut it loudly behind you and heard the breaking of the glass, no doubt thrown at the door as you were leaving.

What a day.

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

Ok so idk if people can see this but I posted this like a week ago and apparently nobody seen it so here it is!!!!

Part 13

Here's my masterlist!!

[harry-styles-sunflower]

Meeting You In The Hallway Part 3

a/n: HII lovely people! I hope you are all doing well today! This is part 3 of Meeting you in the Hallway.

What it is: You move into the apartment across the hall from Harry and you begin a friendship which you both want more from but can’t communicate that want.

Word Count: 4k 

Warning: fluff, angst, cursing, and sexual tension again bc why not.

Lil fun fact: new character in this part named Derek, there's ~some~ (honestly a lot of truth) truth to this character. Different name obvs. If you wanna picture somebody, picture Jacob Elordi, because that’s kind of what the real dude looks like.

Pls reblog if you like it 😊 Thank you for all the support so far! Means the fuckin world! Lot of dialogue in this one, let me know if yall like that or not. I think there will be one more part which will wrap this all up. 

~~~

You both decided to just sit in silence after you ate, just laying your heads back.

"Do you have morphine?"

"Harry just because I work in a hospital doesn’t mean I have hard drugs lying around my apartment"

"Thought you could sneak some, excuse me" he waves his hands up in surrender.

You sigh, "No, there's a thing called inventory that gets checked every day. And what is it with you and morphine?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was in your song yesterday"

His head quickly looks over at you, "You remember yesterday?"

"I remember everything before the tequila shots" you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Oh okay" he avoids your question about morphine and maybe if you didn't have a headache you'd keep pushing for an answer.

Your phone rings and it’s an odd looking number, its 10 digits long.

"Har, look at this number"

He looked over before laying his head back against your couch, "Its European"

"European?" you picked up, "Hello?"

"y/n?"

"Yeah who's this?"

Harry was listening, just didn’t show it.

"Hey um, it’s me, Derek. I don’t know if you remember me"

"Oh yeah. Sorry give me a sec." You pressed the mute button, double checked it was on, then whisper yelled, "holy fucking shit!!"

"What? Who's Derek?"

"This guy I had a hugee crush on in college. He was a year above me. We helped each other in Psych. We wo- hold on I need to answer him" you unmuted the call.

"Hey Derek"

"Hey um I was just wondering if you still lived here? In New York. I'm here for a trade meeting."

"Trade meeting?"

"Yeah with my agent, remember? Basketball?"

"Oh yeah, right. Okay. Um yeah I actually live in the city now"

"Oh, that’s great. Did you wanna grab dinner sometime? I’m here until Friday"

"Y-yeah we could settle on something"

"Okay. I'll uh text you a time and date"

"Yeah okay. Cool"

"Cool. Uh bye"

"Bye" you hung up quick. "Holy shit"

"That was the worst conversation I've ever heard in my life" he laughed.

"Shut up we were both nervous" you hit him with a pillow.

"Who is he again?"

"Long story short, we took Psych together in college and he was on the basketball team so every girl was obsessed but we would hang out all the time. A few nights before he graduated, we had like a moment. It was so romantic," you blushed thinking about it and Harry hated it, "and well, the next week he was gone to play basketball in Europe. It was like maybe right person but wrong time?" Harry swallowed before facing you, "Does that mean you see a future with him? If it was right person, wrong time?"

You looked at him and shook your head, "A girl could dream but I don’t know. I don't think I know him the way I used to you know? It's been like 4 years."

"But you're going on a date"

"No harm in that, right?" For some reason it was like you wanted his permission.

"Yeah, I guess, you said he played basketball in Europe?"

"Yeah, his name is Derek Belov, he's really tall."

"Belov? You're joking me."

"I'm not, you know him?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, "he's big over there. Only over there I guess."

You shrug, "I could honestly care less about it. He's a cool guy in general"

"I have a headache, I'm gonna lay down" he says as he adjusts himself on your couch and puts his feet in your lap. He puts your tv on and watches the office.

You check your phone and Derek had texted you about seven minutes ago. It’s alright though because you didn’t want to seem too excited. You two began texting and settled on a date that night. He swore he didn’t need to fight off the jetlag so you agreed. He'd pick you up at 6, It was almost noon now, so you had plenty of time.

"I'm leaving at 6, he'll pick me up."

"The least he could do, will it be a limo?" you could hear the bitterness in his voice but you blamed it on his hangover.

"No." you slid down your couch and harry tucked your feet under his arm while keeping his eyes on the tv.

You stayed like this for a while, you set an alarm for four o'clock so you wouldn't let time escape.

"Har, when was the last time you went on a date?" you wondered if this could answer your question from last night. If Harry was hooking up with somebody.

" I don't know why?"

"Well like years, months, weeks?"

"Month or so I guess"

"Oh okay, I was just wondering. I guess you could relate to me then. Dating life."

"Yeah sure"

He was being super dismissive and you hated it. You were tired of it actually. You sparked 0 conversation and once your alarm went off, he went back to his apartment and you got ready.

 ~~~

When harry got back to his apartment he felt angry. Angry with the way you spoke about that Derek guy. The fact that you were going on a date with him. He wanted to ruin your plans but he knew he couldn't be selfish. He felt bad for not being the supportive friend he knew you wanted in that moment. With a big sigh and heavy heart, he walked across the hall and knocked on your door 3 times.

You slowly went to open the door, already annoyed with Harry, you opened it with an eyeroll.

"What Harry?"

"I've come in peace," he said with a cheesy smile, "Look I'm sorry for being dismissive earlier I was really just not feeling well and well I'm sorry. Can I help you pick out your outfit now or whatever a girlfriend of yours would do? I even volunteer to do your makeup"

You rolled your eyes and opened the door wider, " Fine. Help me pick an outfit and I wanna borrow the earrings you have on. I like the simple loop look" you said as you walked deeper into your apartment.

"Deal."

You walked into your bedroom where you had a black lace lingerie set on your bed. Harry pretended he didn’t see it as he sat down next to it on your bed.

"I think I might wear a blouse with some high waisted jeans?”

"Yeah I mean why not just go comfy. Wear sweats and a baggy tee. I could lend you one of mine." He winked towards you.

"Harry," you gave him a warning look, "We're having dinner at a restaurant, I'm not gonna wear sweatpants." you looked through your closet and grabbed some black high waisted skinny jeans and tossed them towards Harry. They hit him right in the chest.

"Hey," he grinned at you and laid the jeans flat on your bed. "So is your theme black tonight." he said referencing to the lingerie on your bed.

"Um, I don't know. I think I got too excited. I don't think I'm gonna actually wear it."

"How come? You don't want something to happen?" He hoped not but he kept that to himself.

"I don’t need lingerie to make something happen Harry." he loved your confidence but he hid his smile and nodded.

You grabbed a light blue silky button up blouse from your closet and turned around to face him. "So, I'm thinking tuck the shirt in, roll up the sleeves, and white vans?"

"Sounds.. good"

You nodded and stepped in between his legs from where he was sitting on your bed and then got down to your knees and reached under your bed reaching for a box. The sight made him want to pull you on top of him but he knew he couldn't. Were you teasing him? You pulled a small box and placed it on his lap. Which he was a little thankful because his bulge was only growing in his pants.

"It's my jewelry box, could you pick out some bracelets or something?"

"Yeah, okay" he nodded.

As he kept his head down you went behind him to take off your shirt. You buttoned it up and then jumped into your jeans. Once you finished you faced his front again.

"Should I leave the top two unbuttoned or three?" you said as you unbuttoned a third to show. It showed more cleavage but still wasn't too much.

He rubbed his head and looked anywhere but your chest for too long. "I think two is fine. Leave three for another time. It's still just the first date"

"Aw Harold, you think I'm getting a second date? You're getting better at this girlfriend thing."

"Yeah yeah, here" he passed you his choice of bracelets and his earrings that he took off and you put them on. You enjoyed the fact that you could do this with him.

He grabbed your wrist and turned you around slowly so you were facing your full-length body mirror. You saw him lift his cross necklace above his head and then over yours. He adjusted it between your breast which made you suck in a breath. He felt satisfied when he heard your breath hitch just little bit.

"For good luck." But really he wanted you to remember him while you were out.

You looked him in the eyes through the mirror and whispered, "You don't have to, I've never even seen you take this off"

"Don’t worry about it" He leaned forward and moved your hair to the side and kissed your cheek.

His lips lingered on your cheek for a bit until you heard a knock on your door. You both jumped and walked away from each other.

"I could get it if you want. I know you need to put your shoes on and whatever else."

"Y-yeah please." You felt so confused. You were so excited to go on this date but now you just wanted to stay home with Harry. Feeling his lips on your cheeks made you want to stay and feel his lips on yours. You finished tying your shoes and put some mascara and light makeup.

Harry approached the door and took in a deep breath. When he opened the door, Harry wanted to say "what the fuck" but he actually said,

"Hello, I'm Harry"

"Oh uh, I think I've got the wrong place"

"Looking for Y/n?" he fucking hated that he had to look up to this guy. Damn basketball player, his guess was 6"7. (Derek was actually 6"9)

"Yeah?"

"Yeah she's in here, come in"

"Oh okay," he crouched down just a little to walk. "Do you live here?"

"No across the hall, I'm Y/n's best friend" he grinned. They walked into your living room and took seats waiting for you. Derek nodded at Harry's answer and rubbed his hands against his thighs. Harry noticed his nervousness and debated whether or not to use this to his advantage.

"So where are you taking her?"

"A restaurant, near the Statue of Liberty."

"Nice. Been there before?" maybe with another woman?

"No, actually" Derek looked around like he was becoming impatient with Harry.

You walked out and Derek stood up instantly.

"Wow, y/n it’s so nice to see you," he said as he bent down to give you a hug. It was almost a 2-foot height difference. Harry looked away as it happened. You hugged him back remembering his smell. Some Armani cologne if you remember correctly. Different than Harry's Tom Ford one but why were you even thinking of Harry?

"You too. Let's go? I'm hungry."

"Still the same I see"

"Old habits die hard," you winked. "Har, close the door behind you?"

He nodded at you. You felt bad for some reason and walked over to him and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for everything," you smiled up at him.

"Yeah, no problem." he blushed but you couldn't tell in this lighting.

As you were walking out your apartment with Derek beside you, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You reached into your pocket behind you and saw Harry had texted you.

H: Let me know when you get home please? Or if you stay at his place? Just wanna know you’re okay. Xx

Y/n: most likely coming home H, I’ll let you know tho :)

Harry debated whether or not to ask if she wanted him to stay at her apartment but he didn’t want to intrude on her plans if she wanted to bring Derek back home. He hoped not. He decided to just not answer.

You and Derek approach the elevator and wait.

“I like your necklace, it’s nice”

“Oh yeah, thanks” you fiddled with it.

The elevator doors opened and you made small talk all the way until the restaurant. You had finally made it to Gigino’s, an Italian restaurant by the waterfront at Wagner Park. It was beautifully lit. You’d never been on a date quite like this one. After you finished ordering your drinks, you spoke up.

“I’m surprised you remembered me. It’s been so long”

"I honestly couldn't forget you" he smiled but looked down trying to hide from you.

You bit the inside of your cheek and reached over to put your hand over his. He looked different, more manly.

"How's the big dream been?"

"More exhausting than I thought it would be. I thought college ball was similar to professional but they're nowhere near close. How's nursing?"

"Good, I have many kids I like to think are my own. I work on the pediatric cancer floor."

"Oh wow, that must be tough"

"It can be, can also be rewarding."

"I'm sure you're great for the job"

"Thank you."

Your food came interrupting your conversation but you didn't really mind. You ordered tagliatelle with mixed shellfish. You nearly moaned at the first bite, it was so good.

"So, Harry.. Best friend he says?"

You laughed a little, "Yeah, the bestest." you couldn't believe Harry said that. You weren't mad, you were humored.

"How long have you known him?"

"Few months"

"He hang around a lot?"

"Derek? Why the 20 questions?"

"Sorry, sorry, I was just wondering. Threw me off I guess." He sipped his wine.

"It's okay. Um yeah, I moved in and we became really good friends. We're just always there for each other. That's all." Lies.com.

"Okay. Could I be honest though?"

"Yes," Here we go…

"He likes you."

"Oh my god Derek," you rubbed your temples.

"He does okay, a guy can tell. I really don't care though. I mean, you're here with me right now."

You didn’t know how to take his last comment. Was it cocky? Was it trusting? Genuine? You felt awkward. You just continued eating quietly.

"I'm sorry, I've gone and made this awkward haven't I?"

"Yep."

You had lost your appetite and so you told the waiter you'd like to take the rest home. Derek had finished his plate.

"Dessert?" the waiter asked with his thick Italian accent and gave you the menus. You looked it over and saw the chocolate covered strawberries with whipped cream. Your weakness.

"Do you still like chocolate covered strawberries?"

A little surprised you looked up from the menu and nodded. Derek ordered for you and bought himself a tiramisu.

"Surprised you remembered that too."

"y/n, I don’t think you realize that I was in love with you."

Was.

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! I was. But I had to leave, my dad would've killed me if I didn’t continue his legacy in the game."

"Yeah I know, how is Mr. Bolev?"

"We don't talk."

"Oh." Now you made it awkward. This night was becoming… disastrous?

"Well, yeah I was. I wish I'd said it sooner, who knows what would've happened."

Maybe it was the wine, but you felt a little tingly. You sipped and squinted at him.

"Yeah, who knows?"

"Care to find out?" he grinned.

"Can't go back in time sweetheart."

"No but maybe I could show you something similar."

You laughed and stayed quiet as the waiter came out with your strawberries. He watched you as you ate your strawberries. You might've been doing it a little seductively if you were honest. You wiped the corners of your mouth with your finger and sucked on them lightly.

"Fuck," he mumbled and called the waiter over. "Check please?"

You laughed and drank your water. You’ve had enough wine.

"Do you wanna walk around the park?"

"Its dark," you leaned in to whisper, "There's rats. I've seen them"

"Holy shit, no way."

You nodded his way and he looked around nervously. You giggled at how big he was yet scared of a tiny, well sometimes big, rat. He paid quickly and grabbed your hand running out of there. You made it to his car and got in.

"So, where to?"

"Um where you got me from?"

"Right." You don’t know why, but you wanted to feel something. You wanted to see if there was anything there still. He was nice, but he wasn’t… he wasn’t what you thought you wanted anymore. If things went wrong you could blame it on the wine. You leaned across the center console before he could pull out of his parking spot and grabbed his face and kissed him. He kissed you back instantly and you felt nothing. Nada. You kissed him deeper trying to find something, anything. You just had a romantic dinner and now felt nothing? What sick game was life playing? He placed his hand on your hips and encouraged you get on top. You complied and straddled him. Now you felt something. He was already hard and he felt big. You had this internal battle in your head of whether you should grind on him or not. You didn’t want to give him the wrong intention. What were your intentions?

"You're here till Friday?" you asked breathing a little heavy.

"Yeah," he licked his lips and you kissed them again.

Maybe a hookup wouldn't be horrible. But maybe not on the first date.

"You free tomorrow?"

"Mhm," he kissed you and you leaned against his wheel setting the horn off. You both jumped and laughed. He put his hand on your cheek and kissed you softly. "Let’s get out of here?"

You nodded and he drove to your building.

"Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?" he looked over at you as he put the car in park.

"Yeah. I'll text you when I'm free and stuff."

"Okay." Maybe he expected an invitation upstairs but you weren't in the mood to give him one. You really wanted to go upstairs and knock on Harry's door. You wanted to hang out with him. Derek reached his hand over and played with your, actually Harry's, necklace. Little did he know... He tugged it lightly and leaned in towards you. You gave him a quick kiss and said goodnight. You practically ran inside wanting to change. You went into your apartment and changed into some pajama shorts and a baggy t shirt. You put your slippers on and walked across the hall and knocked three times. You heard harry yell a, 'finally!' before he opened the door. When he opened the door, it seemed it wasn't you he was expecting.

"oh, y/n?" his eyes were red.

"Who were you expecting? Are you crying?"

"No um no, and pizza."

"Can I come in?"

"Um I don’t think that's the best idea."

"Harry what's going on?"

He leaned against the door so you could walk in. Lo and behold he was watching The Vampire Diaries without you. It was the scene where Damon was trapped on the Other side and told Elena how much he loved her but she couldn't hear him.

"Are you serious?"

"I got bored okay!"

"Were you crying over this scene?"

"Maybe."

"Aw, poor baby." you walked up to him and pinched his cheeks.

"How was your date?" he said as he pushed your hands down gently.

You stayed looking up at him, "It was good, food was good," he kept eye contact with you and you didn’t even realize he was still holding your hand.

"He didn't walk you up?"

"No, I kind of didn't let him. I wanted to hang out."

He gave your hand a light squeeze and tried to hide his smile. "Doesn't sound like it went all that well then"

"It was fine Har," you dropped his hands and walked towards his couch. "I should be mad at you for watching without me."

"I know, will you ever forgive me?" you both sat on his couch and he helped you put your legs on him. His fingertips left little flames on your skin.

You take off his necklace and crawl up to him and put it back around his neck.

"Back where it belongs." you twisted a curl from behind his neck around your finger.

"Did you know I used to have my hair really long? Like up to my collarbones?"

"Really?"

"Yeah," he pulled out his phone and showed you a picture. He looked so young. So handsome.

"I think you should grow it back out." you giggled.

"How come?" he settled his arm on your knees as you were still facing him on your knees on his couch.

"I don’t know," you ran your fingers through his hair, "you look handsome either way."

"You think I look handsome?" he looked up at you.

You nodded, scared to speak. You thought maybe you'd say something you might regret. Like how much you wanted to kiss him. Or how you wished Derek smelled like him. Or how you thought of him from time to time. He looked away from you and cleared his throat.

"I guess I should finish this episode."

You nodded and went back to laying down on the other end of the couch. Harry felt confused. You had just gone on a date and come back to him and called him handsome. Did you like him or not? You interrupted his thoughts when you spoke up.

"We kissed," you felt like you had to tell him, yet he felt he could live without that information. "but I didn't feel anything. Like those sparks you're supposed to feel. I don’t know."

Harry stared at the screen and just listened. He didn’t want to hear that you kissed but he did like that you didn't like it.

"But I'm supposed to see him again tomorrow, now that I'm here I kind of don't want to."

Harry sighed and turned off the tv. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Y/n, do you feel anything for me? Because I'm honestly fucking confused. You go out on a date with some guy and then come back here, touching me in some ways. Call me handsome. The other night you put your fingers through my belt loop-" he caught what he was saying when you gave him a confused look.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me"

"The other night, after my gig you were drunk and you pulled me towards you.. You didn't remember so I didn't remind you." He sighed heavily.

"Oh, I'm sorry I did that to you."

"I didn’t mind it"

"What's that supposed to mean"

You both sat up and faced each other. Sharing the middle cushion.

"Harry, do you feel anything for me?"

Part 4 is now up!

[bard-of-light]

Layers: Mehna Nuwu

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: "Mehna Nuwu. Nice to meet ya!"

Eye Color: "My left eye is light blue and my right eye is like a Dalamud red. My brother's eyes are reversed compared to mine."

Hair Style/Color: "I usually keeps my hair straight with bangs covering my eyes. My hair is black with blue highlights. At the moment, my hair is past my shoulders. Maybe I'll braid it..."

Height: "I am 5'6 at the moment so I'm enjoying being taller than the twins."

Clothing Style: "Despite being a Bard originally, I hate wearing leggings and whatnot. I prefer wearing trousers, boots and a tunic that's either red or black. Failing that, I like wearing black plate armor as a Dark Knight."

Best Physical Feature: "I guess my eyes? I often get compliments on them."

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: "Oh Gods, where to start? I hate spiders, heights, tight spaces and feeling weak," Mehna said as she counted on her fingers.

Your Guilty Pleasure: "I don't know really. I haven't had much down time lately."

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: "I hate when people refuse to listen to me and they try to make choices for me."

Your Ambition for the Future: "I want to settle down outside of one of the city-states. Maybe in the Black Shroud."

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: "Why is the sun so evil?"

What You Think About the Most: "I should plan a vacation..."

What You Think About Before Bed: "I wonder if I could sleep in until noon?"

You Think Your Best Quality Is: "My charming personality. Nah, I think my best quality is my ability to see all sides of every situation."

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: "I like dates with just Ali and I but every now and again, it's nice to do double dates, especially with Inako and Lyse."

To be Loved or Respected: "I think you need a healthy balance of both."

Beauty or Brains: "Both but personality is more important to me."

Dogs or Cats: "Why not both?"

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: "I mean, who doesn't? I just little white lies every now and again. Mostly about if I've slept or ate."

Believe in yourself: Mehna shook her head. "Not at all. Without the Scions, I'd be lost."

Believe in Love: "Aye and it gives me the strength to go on."

Want Someone: "I mean, I want to be with Alisaie but it's been hard to have a stable relationship right now."

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on stage: "As a Bard, I often perform ballads for crowds but if I'm being honest, I'm scared of large crowds."

Done Drugs: "Does catnip count? Krile gave it to me to calm me down."

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: "Why in the Seven Hells would I do that?"

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite Color: "Red," she mumbled as she watched Alisaie and Lyse train.

Favorite Animal: "This may be strange to say but I love puppies. I have a black Hayate pup and a wolf pup."

Favorite Food: "Dzo Steak. Inako has gotten me hooked on Far East Cuisine."

Favorite Game: "I've recently gotten obsessed with Triple Triad and now, I challenge everyone I know to a card game."

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: “32nd Sun of the 4th Astral Moon.”

How Old Will You Be: "19!"

Age You Lost Your Virginity: "Uh I haven't done anything like that. I've never been in a relationship before Ali. I don't intend to lose it for a while."

Does Age Matter: "Aye it does. That's why Alisaie and I are taking it slowly until she is 18. She may be considered an adult in her homeland but better safe than sorry, eh?"

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best thing to do with a Partner: "I love to lay my head on her lap while she reads. Being near her always calms me."

Best Eye Color: "Blue. Lyse, Alisaie and Ysayle all have blue eyes and it suits them."

Best Personality: "I like people who can stand their own ground but they aren't too proud to ask for your help."

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: "Alisaie Leveilleur."

I feel: "Like I'll never be able to get away from the title of Warrior of Light."

I miss: "Ysayle and Haurchefant. If only I had been stronger..."

I hide: "My emotions. I hate bothering others with my troubles."

I wish: "that the Realm can finally know peace."

Tagged by @faeluria.

Tagging whoever wants to do it.

[scripturienss]

Deuces

Disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me and neither do the X-Men. Might be completely ooc from the superheroes you may know and expect.

Title: Deuces on FF.net. Rating: G Genre: Drama/Romance Prompt: Superheroes AU Word Count: 2,202

I don't gamble but if I did, I would bet on us.

"Dead Sea", The Lumineers

The first time they meet, a bomb sets off to her right, nearly deafening her.

The first time they meet, a bomb sets off to her right, nearly deafening her.

"Out of the way!"

It's a full-blown battle and her teammates are running, flying around her and tearing the city to the ground. She grabs hold of the first non-friend near her; there is a flash of light, so many images, so much anger and passion, and so much cold. Then there is nothing. She stands, eyes glowing white and creates a snowstorm around them that steals the air from everyone's lungs, all warmth gone from their limbs. Sora joins in and together, they manage to subdue the chaos around them just long enough to draw back.

The professor says it's important to know when to pull back from a battle already won, but Mimi resents not being able to finish it once and for all. They don't deserve this momentary peace.

.

.

Sora doesn't like anything about him. From the way he walks, too quietly, always brooding, to the way he talks in that low, sweet voice and how his French slips in every now and then. Mimi watches him from a safe distance in the library while he sits under her favourite oak tree, seemingly harmless. From here, he looks just like any other guy in the academy, he could be anyone and do anything. Perhaps, from here, he isn't the assassin she knows him to be though that possibility doesn't stop her from being angry, too.

The object of her current irritation enters the room and Mimi doesn't turn around when he asks, "Are you going to keep ignoring me?"

She can hear the anger in the way he's breathing so heavily through his nostrils. The thought brings her immense pleasure.

"Mimi, he's a friend."

"He tried to kill us," she tells him, fixing him with a stare. "Nearly damn succeeded, too."

Ryo frowns and she can almost believe him to be flustered. The years and scars have hardened his face and he hasn't shaved in a while. Sometimes she wonders how she could ever find him attractive but then, there are so few men that don't run away when met with her...

"He's not a bad guy," is the only thing he says. Mimi stands quietly and slips by him, half-waiting for him to flinch away from her touch. He doesn't, but then again, she doesn't touch him either.

.

.

"I have the strangest feeling you don't like me much."

"I didn't know you were telepathic, too. Mimi, did you know?"

Mimi glances uneasily at Sora, frowning. She's usually much nicer, the sweetest person Mimi has ever met but old habits die hard and this guy had a very good shot at blowing Sora's boyfriend to bits and pieces. You don't forget a thing like that so easily, no matter whose side you say you're on.

"I'm sorry," he says, sneering. "You weren't giving me much of a choice, you know."

"I'm going to find Taichi. You're staying?"

Mimi looks alarmed. "I'll be there in a minute." Sora leaves without another word and Mimi sighs. "She'll come around," she offers, despite not entirely believing her own words. "You did shoot at him."

He considers her for a moment and Mimi struggles not to break eye contact. He's handsome, not like Taichi, who is rugged and a bit rough; his features are delicate, would be almost too pretty if it weren't for the scars and the eerie, unnatural blue of his eyes. Mimi thinks it must be hard, having people always avert your eyes.

"What about you?"

She pouts. It's not his fault, she thinks, that Ryo thought it was a good idea to bring him in. His instincts are almost always right, even if the way he handles things is completely wrong. "I'm angrier at someone else at the moment, so you're good."

.

.

"So what's your power?" he asks, settling on the grass near her. He eyes her carefully, from her closed toe shoes to the pants and long sleeves, the gloves she's begun to put on the moment he approached her. "Hypersensitivity to the sunlight?"

"I'm—," she pauses, taking a small breath. He's toying with a playing card between his fingers, doing all sorts of ridiculous little tricks; it's the queen of hearts. Mimi smiles ruefully. "I'm a thief."

Gambit—that's what he calls himself these days—stops twirling the card and looks at her, smiling and she's sure she has never seen him smile before. He throws the card with scary precision into the sky and it blows up in tiny pieces, the cardboard falling around them like dry snow. "That's funny," he says, though he isn't smiling anymore. "So am I."

.

.

During the next few months, they spend a lot more time together. They train and eat together and sometimes he helps her study. Most of the time he's off on his own while Mimi attends her lessons and then he shows her a few nifty little tricks he's been working on. Sora doesn't hate him anymore and though Taichi still grumbles every now and then, she's sure he likes him more than he lets on. It's hard not to. He's quiet and polite, charming when he wants to be, clever even without trying. The professor values his input and experience and much of their success can be owed to the things he has brought and taught them.

The word 'mercenary' lingers in the air, still too raw to forget. Mimi tries not to think too much about it but sometimes she wonders, too, what kind of story he drags behind.

"Why do they call you Rogue?"

The light in the greenhouse casts a strange look on him, like a wraith or some other dream-demon of old.

"I ran away from home, left this place a couple of times," she sticks her tongue out at him. "I guess, there aren't many other things you could call me."

"I could think of a few," he says, and it's so rare to see him joke, Mimi doesn't know how to respond. So she tosses her hair over her shoulder and gives him a nonchalant shrug.

"Why'd they call you Gambit?"

"It's a trick move," he answers, tilting the waterpot into the cacti she's been looking after. "And an unfortunate nickname."

.

.

A new group of students arrives late that autumn, and Mimi greets them as happily as she can. Some of them are orphans, others are runaways, like her. A few were sent in by understanding parents who figure out it's better for them to be with their kind. These are always the most miserable kids. She does her best to help them adjust to life at the institute, figure out the rules and generally keep out of harm's way. At the end of the day, despite their powers, they're still mostly children and are sometimes treated as such.

Because she's kind and rather beautiful, every now and then some boy who thinks he's too clever will try to make a pass at her. Mimi brushes them all off easily, light-heartedly; none must come to harm. But every once in a while someone will grow too bold and won't pay heed to the warnings. Accidents have happened before, it's how the rumors started.

"Hey, Rogue, check it out!"

It all happens so fast. The kid reaches out and holds fast to her wrist and suddenly Mimi's entire body is on fire. Someone screams and it takes a moment for her to realise it's her, she's screaming and Takuya is on the floor and she can see the whites in his eyes. She's so sorry but she can't stay, not here, not with him looking all but dead while flames melt down her limbs.

"Move!" she bellows and she runs, fast, away and out into the woods that surround the property. She can see flashes of his life, his family, the scent of baking bread mixes unpleasantly with the smell of charred hair, clothes and skin. Mimi stops, doubles over and throws up until her stomach is empty.

.

.

He finds her sitting on a rock, near the small pond on the eastern field of the property.

"They were all looking for you."

"How is he?"

He scratches his jaw, solemn. "A bit dazed, but he'll live. I think he's mostly embarrassed though."

"I didn't mean to do it," she murmurs, hiding her face in her arms. "He caught me off guard, I couldn't—,"

"He shouldn't have touched you," he says, so fiercely that Mimi looks up and nearly misses his expression, fogged as her eyes are. He seems to notice and runs a hand through his hair; when he turns to her all traces of it are gone and he's smiling good-naturedly. "You really are something, aren't you, chére?"

.

.

They hadn't been expecting it. One moment they were together, having dinner and the next their intercoms were buzzing and the Blackbird was loaded and ready to go. Mimi hesitates briefly but Taichi (sweet Taichi) holds on to her hand and tugs on it. "We're a team," he says, then smiles that half-smile that irritates her so much. "And you're coming with us."

They drop down on ground zero and the fight that ensues is exhausting, both terrifying and exhilarating. She's never had free range with her powers before but this time she doesn't have time to think, to plan; she takes what she needs and gives them what they deserve. She's fought Magneto before, she's not afraid to do it again and the multiple explosions that seem to follow (but never touch her) are all the reassurance she needs.

Smoke chokes her lungs and she dives away from the blast, covering her face with her arms. He's gliding towards her, so close that she can touch him so she does, she dives for him and clutches his face, there's a huge blast behind her and the rest is all dark.

.

.

His eyes are the first thing she sees when she awakes. His face, usually composed, is a mess of dirt and sweat. There's blood trickling from his left brow and his eye is completely shut. He's devastating nonetheless and she's never been happier to see him.

"Rogue?" His voice is hoarse, like he's been screaming. She's drifting back into unconsciousness and desperate, he kisses her. She gasps and falls into his outstretched arms.

Things are never the same between them again.

.

.

"You could've died," she says bitterly, sitting in the hospital ward. The harsh bright lights make him look sickly pale and this makes her heart shrink. Because she's absorbed Ryo's powers on more than one occassion, Mimi heals rather fast and is already looking a lot like her former self. He's not as lucky, still a bit mangled and wearing an eye-patch over his left eye. The other one shines as startlingly blue as the first time they met.

"But I didn't," he sighs. "I thought you'd be happier about it."

"You shouldn't have!"

"You were on the ground—!"

"I don't mean the bomb," her voice has gone uncharacteristically quiet and he hesitates only a moment before moving, carefully, to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. The usual rose gold of her hair is framed by locks of silver, brighter than ever before. She flinches a little and her eyes fill with tears.

"I don't regret it. I would only hope you don't, either."

.

.

It feels so good to be touched again. His fingers (gloved, almost always gloved), lightly brush her cheeks and Mimi leans in to his touch. He bends down to place his lips on her shoulder; the kiss lingers soft and sweet and she shudders underneath his touch. They lay together like this, with him resting on her breast and tracing circles on her skin. She sighs, curling into him and placing her hand on his hair, kissing the backs of her fingers.

The psyonic imprint of his mind lingers somewhere in the back of hers, a cruel reminder of a moment that was stolen from them. He's louder than others, trembling with the sort of intensity that threatens to be overwhelming.

"What else did you see?"

"Your house, friends you have lost. The family you grew up with." She's crying again. "I'm sorry."

He rolls over to lay beside her, taking a deep breath and looking up into the ceiling. When he turns, both eyes are focused on her. "Call me by my name."

So she smiles, breathless, and he kisses her open palm. "Okay, Yamato."

.

.

"I want to kiss you."

A breathless laugh escapes her, ending in a sob that shakes her to her core. "I thought I had lost you."

"You could never lose me, chére. I couldn't bear it."

This time she does laugh and it's almost infectious, like something from his childhood he thought he had lost. His lips curl against the cloth that covers her neck and he kisses her pulse. If this moment is all they'll have, then—

"You're a prince, Ishida Yamato."

"Prince of thieves. Let's steal one more from Fate, hm?"

Notes: Part two of #digiOTPweek2k17 and a couple of observations.

1. I was already halfway done when someone pointed out this could've worked with Yamato as Rogue and Mimi as Gambit. I was tempted but upon the rewrite, I realised there were a few traits I wanted to keep and decided not to do it. I may or may not regret this decision.

2. In chess, a 'gambit' is an opening where you move a pawn that requires a sacrifice.

3. I regret so much about this piece but didn't want to miss out on the superhero fun! I'm trash.

4. The last lines are are from an actual panel from the comics and were originally what inspired me to write about them.

[qqueenofhades]

Omg I'm the original anon that asked you for Lucy/Flynn smut and IT'S BECOME THE GLORIOUS TRASH SAGA I DON'T BELIEVE IT. Bless you and also your cow. Also, er. More?

you are most welcome, this is officially an actual fic, i was just trying to write smut, why did i do this, why, why couldn’t the plot butt out and leave me in peace, whyyyyy – the trash saga of flynn and lucy is ruining my life k

It’s a long way through the dark forest on the back of ahorse, jouncing and jolting, until Lucy is thinking that she doesn’t care wherethey are going, so much as when they will arrive, and she can get the hell off.She is not the most gifted equestrienne in the world, as proven when they weretracking Flynn and Jesse James, and besides, she wants some answers. It occursto her that that mission was the one where Flynn found Emma hiding out in thewoods, and yet Emma’s clearly calling the shots now. Lucy still hasn’tfigured out who exactly their mysterious rescuers are. Their accents are modernAmerican – if she hadn’t guessed it by their unsurprised reaction tothe Lifeboat, these are definitely not local nineteenth-century GoodSamaritans deciding to charitably help out two lost women and a child. Theymust be those emergency contacts Emma was talking about, more Mason Industriespeople, strategically implanted to help stranded time travelers get home. ButLucy has good reason to want to stay away from Mason Industries, and is alreadystarting to wonder just what the odds are of some of Emma’s cohorts justhappening to be here, exactly when they need them. History, after all, is a very big place.

At last, they canter through a torchlit gate and up to astately country house, surrounded on all sides by forest and outbuildings –Maryland, after all, is just south of the Mason-Dixon line, and stillofficially a slave state, though its free black population is rapidly growingand in another few decades, Lincoln will force it to remain in the Union duringthe Civil War. If, of course, the Civil War even still happens as it’s supposedto. Lucy, the Lincoln historian, is well aware of this, but this wholesituation is reminding her of a rather different adventure, and she’s not sureshe likes it. As the man she’s been riding with helps her down, she glancesacross to see Emma leaping off her own horse and taking hold of Iris.“I’ll see to her, Lucy. You’ve done enough. Go inside and get warm.”

Lucy hesitates. “I want her to come with me.”

“Lady Preston?” Her escort touches her elbow. “The girl willbe fine. We really have been waiting to speak with you.”

Lady Preston? Thatis even more eyebrow-raising than ma’am, andmaybe these guys are just going native after however long in the nineteenthcentury. Still, Lucy is starting tothink that another night at the boarding house would not have been the worstthing in the world. Hopefully they can get the Lifeboat fixed ASAP, because shewants out of here, bad. Then, of course, she remembers that she can’t. She’sstuck.

At any rate, there are at least six of them, they all haveguns, and a doctorate from Stanford, while an objectively valuable life accomplishment,doesn’t provide many useful skills in terms of punching your way out of tight corners.That is decidedly Wyatt and Flynn’s department, and they, of course, are nothere. Seeing nothing for it, Lucy follows the men inside.

The mansion is well appointed for a house in the middle ofnowhere, lux and comfortable, but that’s not the first thing Lucy notices.There are security cameras, some kind of blinking doodad (she is alsonot the person to ask about this kind of thing, that is Rufus’s lookout) thatmust run on organic renewable energy of some kind, since there’s no electricalgrid to power them. Lucy is shown through a set of double doors and into asitting room, and at herentrance, a sandy-haired man in his mid-forties turns around and smilesbroadly. “Lady Preston! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Wh…” Lucy stares at him, completely lost. “Wh – do weknow – ”

“You saved my life thirty-four years ago, when I was just aboy. And you look exactly the same, so…” He waves a hand at the room. “Asyou can see, and given the fact that you’re here, it’s true. We’ve built abetter clock. And we owe it all to you, my lady. Truly, you are the queen andfounding mother of our order, and I promise, everything will be put right.”

At that, in one final, horrible moment, it crashes intoplace. Lucy feels as if the bottom has dropped out from her world, again, asshe stares at him. “John,” she breathes. “John Rittenhouse.”

He appears genuinely pleased that she remembers him.“Indeed. You stopped the madman who murdered my father in cold blood fromkilling me, and I have never forgotten it. Your bravery, or, dare I say, yourbeauty. I dedicated myself to carrying on my father’s work, in honor of hismemory. And meeting these good gentlemen – ” he indicates the men – the agents– the Rittenhouse agents – “was proof of the theorem. We will, or shortly atany rate, have a fully functional time machine. I cannot wait to travel to thefuture, to see it for myself. Everything we’ve worked for, at last. Our legacy.Mine and yours.”

His face is glowing with ardency and belief. Lucy wants tobe sick. “It’s not my legacy!” she snarls. “I don’t want anything to do withit!”

John Rittenhouse is puzzled. “Of course it’s your legacy.You’re the reason any of it was possible. Perhaps it’s destiny, Lucy. Thatwe’ve met again at last. But then, we worked very hard to make it happen. Itwasn’t easy. You’ve been difficult to get hold of.”

Lucy grips the back of the davenport until her knuckles gowhite. “Emma,” she says, stomach heaving. “Emma is – has been – a Rittenhouseagent. This entire time.”

“Of course she has.” John smiles again. “Our best andbrightest, the only one we thought capable of the strength and guile it wouldtake to pull this off. She convinced the madman to come here, you know. To thisyear, this place. She knew he would not be able to resist the lure of FortMcHenry – such a tiny, insignificant piece, given the larger goal. The pointwas, we knew you’d follow him. And circumstances were arranged, arranged sobeautifully, so that you would choose to send your protectors away at last, andhave no choice but to come to us alone. The beauty, the precision, theelegance. See, Lucy? See?”

She does. Thisis a trap to which even the word Machiavelliandoes no justice. Flynn didn’t erase her. Rittenhouse did. Everything thathas happened in 1814 has been because of Rittenhouse maneuvering to get her onher own, away from the men, here with John who is clearly more than halfconvinced that they’ll get married and rule the world together, with theLifeboat already in their hands and the Mothership about to be as well by thesounds of things, with her rendered utterly dependent on them for her futureexistence. This is so beyond bad that it isn’t even catastrophic. It isapocalyptic.

“You look pale, my dear,” John goes on, when Lucy saysnothing. “Sit down. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

“I-don’t-want-your-fucking-tea.”She’d throw it in his face. She is so far beyond angry that it is boilingin her very bones. Iris. Oh God. Iris, where is Iris? She’s delivered herdirectly into the jaws of the serpent. All Emma’s odd questionsabout how long Lucy has been sleeping with Flynn, and whether she might getpregnant, likewise make sickening sense. David Rittenhouse was also nastilyinterested in whether she had reproduced yet, and was certainly planning toassist her in that aim. Emma was scouting out to make sure that Lucy wouldn’tturn up here accidentally expecting Time Terrorist Junior. Bit of an awkwardsituation if she’s supposed to be the Bride of Rittenhouse, and breed asuper-race of crazy cultist clockmakers with a side hobby of worlddomination. Jesus, fucking, Christ.

John frowns. He still seems slightly baffled that she isn’trushing to thank him for all this. “Now, Lucy,” he says, in abe-gentle-with-the-mental-patient sort of voice. “I know you’ve been livingwith our enemies for quite a while, and of course you have a distorted view ofour aims and activities. I do need you to not to attempt anything foolish whilewe’re getting everything into place. I’m sure you’ll come around, of course,but it’s delicate, so – ”

“I will not.” Lucy is actually seeing red. “I am neverjoining you.”

John smiles patronizingly. “Yes,” he says. “Of course youwill.”

If there is one thing Lucy Preston hates, it’s people – men – knowingher future, or thinking they do, and trying to force it on her accordingly. Shereaches stealthily behind her for the heavy branched candelabra on thesideboard. As John takes a step toward her, raising a hand as if to caress hercheek, Lucy rips it up and slams him over the head with it, hard as shepossibly can.

He yelps and staggers, blood spurting from a gash on hisforehead, momentarily blinded by the scalding candle wax, and Lucy runs for it.“Iris? IRIS!” She races down the corridor, realizing that she is about tobecome a horse thief, and nowhere is far enough for her to go, not when theLifeboat’s dead and she doesn’t know how to pilot it anyway. Maybe ridehell-for-leather to Fort McHenry again and try to get Cochrane to shield her,with no answers about where Flynn’s gone or even who he really was. Oh God. OhGod oh God oh God. “IRIS!”

She sprints around the corner and headlong into fourRittenhouse agents coming the other way. They grab her by the arms and hoisther off her feet as she kicks and curses at them, struggling and spitting, andhaul her down the corridor to a door at the end. It opens into a narrow backroom, one of them unbars a trapdoor in the floor, and dumps Lucy into somethingthat looks like a root cellar – a tiny, dingy, dark bolthole. The grate slamsdown, and locks.

Panic sears Lucy’s throat, twisting her in half. She’strapped. Oh God, oh God she’strapped, she is in that coffin in the Murder Castle and H.H. Holmes issharpening his knives, and there is even no oracle for her to play to beguileherself out. She screams and claws at the trapdoor, bloodying herfingers, crawling in a circle. The walls, the walls are devouring her. She’susing up her air. Her chest jerks and shudders. There is not enough space.She’s going to die in here.

Think, Lucy. Think. You’restronger than this. You are more than your fear. Get a grip. Logic. Sense.Reason. Lists. Lists are good. How about the presidents? Recite the presidentsin order.

George Washington.

She met him, God, she met him, thirty-four years ago when hewanted Benedict Arnold caught, and then she saved John Rittenhouse’s life –

John Adams.

Thomas Jefferson.

She saved him in 1787, when she chained Flynn to a bed tostop him from going after the Constitutional Convention – remembers thatJefferson was an admirer of David Rittenhouse, he was another one, another one–

James Madison.

He’s president right now, but it’s changed, it’s all changed–

James Monroe.

John Quincy Adams.

Andrew Jackson.

The Trail of Tears. They were there. They were there, shesaw it, Jackson did that, Rittenhouse whispering in his ear. This used to be asterile, comforting recitation of established facts for Lucy, her solace andher happy place, theories and arguments and books. But now it is a wild,chaotic, terrifying swirl of unsettled scales and change and catastrophe, herown culpability in it wondering if any choice she has ever made mattered, orit’s still led her to this. Has shebeen saving history, or saving Rittenhouse? Is John right? Queen and founding mother of our order.

You, Lucy, thedarkness whispers to her.

You.

You.

You.

Lucy drifts into an exhausted, miserable doze eventually,from which she is jerked by the trapdoor rattling and aspear of sunlight falling on her face, feeling like a mushroom shut up too longin the dark. She squints and grimaces as rough hands haul her out; she wants tofight, but her legs are rubbery, she’s starving and trembling and stillterrified, and she needs to pick her moment carefully. She puts up noresistance as they march her off to a drawing room where she sees clothes laidout that are clearly at least a decade ahead of 1814. So they’replanning to travel. Did Emma fix the Lifeboat? What the –

Lucy struggles out of her filthy clothes and into the newones, because yes, she is going to keep an eye on these assholes somehow. Howexactly she plans to do that, she’s not sure, given that she’s still convincedthat she’ll be erased if she tries to leave this year. But if the restrictiononly applies to her present lifetime – i.e. she can’t go anywhere between1983-2017, because she does not exist when she was supposed to, but she canstill move around the past – then that might be less of a problem. Ghost in the machine, she thinks.Forever exiled from her own time, banging aimlessly around history, without anyhome or place to settle for long. Once it might have sounded like a dream cometrue. Now it’s nothing but an unending, impossible nightmare.

Once she’s made herself look less of a disaster, shestraightens her back, locks her knees, and opens the door to find Emma standingon the other side of it, clearly waiting for her. “Wow,” Lucy spits at her.“Thanks for saving us. Man, we’re in your debt.”

Emma shrugs. “I did save us, so you’re welcome. Come on,John’s waiting.”

“What is this? Our freaky cultist marriage ceremony?” Lucyrears back. “Don’t think for a secondthat I’m going to – ”

“No, he’d rather marry you when you want to. It’s a bitpathetic, but he is honestly rather in love with you, and thinks you’ll changeyour mind. No, we have another trip to make first. I’ve gotten the Lifeboatenough gas to make one short-term jump, but that’s all it needs to do. We’regoing to 1829 to get the Mothership.”

“1829?” Lucy stares at her. “What makes you think it’s goingto be there?”

“Oh,” Emma says. “I think it’ll be there.”

“What did you – ”

Lucy takes a furious step, but the clunk of a gun beingcocked stops her. “Close enough, Preston.” Emma’s voice is cool and low anddangerous. “Trust me, I don’t want to shoot you. It would make the higher-upsvery mad, especially John. But I wouldn’t press your luck.”

Lucy stares back at her with utter and complete contempt.“Wow,” she says again, after a moment. “You’re a true believer, aren’t you?Some of the other members, they must just use Rittenhouse for money or power orconnections or whatever else, but you, no. You’re a zealot. You actually buyinto everything they want to do, no matter the cost. No wonder they chose youto get in with Flynn, make him work with you.”

“Like that was hard,” Emma says, beckoning Lucy with thegun. “Just keep telling him how awful Rittenhouse was, how I’d do anything tobring it down, how I had so much proof of their depravity to give him. He ateit up. He’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is, by the way. Mind you, therewere a few times when I thought he might cotton onto me, but he didn’t want to kill me – especially afterAnthony, and especially since he’d have no pilot – and I used that to myadvantage. Remember when you thought I was sleeping with him? That wasamusing.  I did consider whether I mighthave to try to seduce him, if he got too many ideas about getting rid of me.But it wouldn’t have worked. I’m pretty sure you’re the only woman he everactually thinks about, no matter all his talk about doing this for his wife anddaughter. Reads your stupid journal all the time. Thought you could doanything. So this is going to really sting, won’t it?”

Lucy wants to kill her, but they have reached the main hall,a bruised and black-eyed John Rittenhouse is waiting for them, and makes her acordial bow, apparently not holding too much of a grudge for the candelabraincident last night. “Lucy! Are you ready?”

“I think I preferred LadyPreston,” Lucy growls under her breath, ignoring his offered arm. She isterrified to ask where Iris is – no way they’re wasting that much of a valuablehostage, she is most likely still alive, but for how long? “And why are wegoing to 1829?”

“Well,” John says. He looks like a kid in a candy store.“It’s my first trip forward, and this is the year, so I’m told, that one AndrewJackson becomes president. He’s one of ours. We’re traveling to March 4, 1829 –the day he’s sworn in. And it’s the meeting. The Rittenhouse meeting.”

“What meeting?”

“Our quad-centennial meeting. The last one was in 1804, justafter the Louisiana Purchase – Jefferson was also one of ours, by the way. Ithappens every twenty-five years. And given that we are going to acquire theMothership at this one, I think it’s especially vital that I attend in person,so we can map out how history goes forward from such a pivotal moment. You are,of course, welcome to help me, if you understand what your true identity is.”

Lucy gives him a demure, closed-mouth smile. Inside, hermind is racing. They must have found a way to make contact with Flynn, Wyatt,and Rufus in 2017, order them to travel to 1829 to meet them, and surrender the Mothership. This of course is the worst possibleoutcome. Maybe they won’t come. Maybe they can be persuaded to stay away, inthe name of the larger cause.

So, at least, Lucy hopes vainly for a few seconds. Shedoesn’t want to die as a martyr, butshe also can’t rule out the idea, if it means Rittenhouse won’t becomeall-powerful. Then she considers what the odds are that the terrible threesome,much as they may hate each other, won’t absolutelydrop everything and go barreling through history if she’s in danger. No matterthe cost. No matter the risk.

“Slim” is not a kind enough word for it.

——————

“Washington D.C., March 4, 1829.” Rufus stares at the screen. “That’s when these mysteriouscomputer-crashing gremlins want us to go with the Mothership, or ‘they’ die.And is this way too much of a stretch, or does anyone else get the feeling thatthat means Lucy, Iris, and Emma?”

There’s a loud curse and a crash behind him, and he whirlsto see that Flynn has just kicked over a display of middle-grade children’schapterbooks, at which there is no question of them remaining further in thelibrary. They grab their things and speed out chased by a flock of furiousmiddle-aged women, Rufus and Wyatt dragging Flynn between them, and into thedark parking lot. They barely get across it before they all start yelling ateach other at once.

“I should have known this was some kind of trick! By them!By Rittenhouse!” Flynn looks quite honestly deranged. “Now they’ll kill mydaughter again, all because we left them behind in the past by themselves,without – ”

“YEAH, FLYNN, MAYBE IF YOU HADN’T FUCKIN’ ERASED LUCY, WE WOULDN’T HAVE THISPROBLEM!” Wyatt is 0.00001 seconds away from breaking his promise to her andthrottling the life out of certain utterly insufferable tall, dark, and EasternEuropean prize-winning douchenozzles with his bare hands, and Rufus looks as ifhe’s thinking about helping. “You forget that part, huh? About how this is all your fault?”

Flynn raises his hands to his face and drops them. Hebreathes like a tempest, struggling to control himself. He whirls on a heel,storms to the end of the alley, stops, and stares up at the heavens, clearlywondering why he can’t just be smote down now and put an end to it. Then heturns and walks back, with far more control than he evidently feels. “Rightthen, soldier,” he says, vicious with mockery. “What’s your plan for the situation?”

Wyatt wants to know why it’s him to solve this heaping helping of shit sandwich that Garcia“Still The Worst” Flynn has loaded onto their plates, but there is only onepossible answer. “We have to go. We have to rescue Lucy. I – we – we can’t loseher. We can’t let this happen.”

“Man, you know I want the same thing,” Rufus says. “But – give Rittenhouse the Mothership? Wyatt,we – all of us – care about Lucy. In our own ways. I think it’s the only thingwe all have in common, in fact. But if we land there, they’ll be on us likewhite on rice. You know how bad it would be.”

“You can’t be seriously suggesting that we don’t save Lucy.”

“I’m not. I’m suggesting we be smart about it.” Rufus looks nervous but resolute. “Before somebody who I won’t mentionkidnapped Anthony, he was working on something that was exactly intended toprevent the Mothership from being stolen. A second layer of safeguard. It was aprogram that would lock the controls and put the Mothership on autopilot – aremote retrieval, basically, so if the human pilot died on a mission, we couldlog into its computer from the present and still drive it home by itself. Idon’t think he finished it, so we didn’t have time to install it beforeSomeone, still not mentioning him, did his thing. I might have been able topatch it in from the Lifeboat, but Someone,still not mentioning him, also happenedto cut the cord between the Lifeboat and the Mothership. And we don’t havethe Lifeboat, anyway.”

“So?” Flynn growls, clearly vastly chafed by thispassive-aggressive (barely passive, anyway) shade-throwing. “What good doesthat do us?”

“This.” Rufus lifts his chin. “If I can get that softwareand install it on the Mothership, I can lock its pilot console. I’d stay here in2017 and drive you guys remotely into 1829 like an underwater deep-sea robot.That way, even if Rittenhouse did get their hands on it, they wouldn’t be ableto use it. The only way it would run was if I pulled you out. They could sit init all and press all the buttons they wanted, but only another expert-levelpilot would be able to override it, and Rittenhouse doesn’t have one of those.”

“Split up again?” Wyattrepeats incredulously. “After how well the last time went?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And how do we get the software, anyway?”

“Well,” Rufus says, scratching his ear. “That’s the trickypart.”

“Oh,” Flynn murmurs witheringly. “That’s the tricky part.”

“Shut up, Flynn.” Wyatt looks back at Rufus, eyes wideningas it hits him. “Shit. It’s in Mason Industries, isn’t it? Probably buried deepin some encrypted server, and only you know how to get it out. But you mightnot even work there anymore, so who’s getting us inside the – ”

He pauses. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” Rufus says grimly. “Gotta convince Jiya to fall forme and take a chance on smuggling a perfect stranger into her top-secretworkplace to steal a bit of dangerous code for a time machine in what, fiveminutes? Should be a gas.”

It’s about thirty minutes later, in fact, when they’re backon Jiya’s doorstep – Flynn loudly protesting this plan and insisting they justtake the damn place by storm like he did last time, Wyatt making equally loudcomments that of course the terrorist thinks that is a good idea – and both ofthem shutting up on the spot when Jiya opens the door, sees them, and starts toslam it. “What? I told you weirdoes to get lost!”

“Jiya.” Rufus has wedged his foot in the door, and grimaceswhen it hits it, but doesn’t budge. “Look. I know this is incredibly bizarreand I can’t explain it, but… let’s just say that I know what Connor Masonwas working on, and so do you. We both know that it was possible that if it wasused, we’d come back and the world might be… different. Well, we have, andit’s important,  and a friend of ours isreally in danger. I know you don’t remember her either, but her name is Lucy.You like her. We all do.”

Jiya frowns at him, but slightly less certainly than before.“How do you know about Mason – ”

“Because I work there,” Rufus says. “In the other timeline.And in that timeline, like I said, we… well… we’re sort of, you know.Together. You love Indian food and you have this Twitter account where you sayall these incredibly smart and funny things, and you’re bitchin’ at like, allthe video games but especially Assassin’sCreed, and the best vacation you ever took was to that tech convention inTokyo in 2014 where it rained the whole time and you just got to wander aroundand test all the gizmos. You’re such a nerd and you’re always changing up yournail polish and you secretly love sappy movies and cry every time the dog dies,because you have the biggest heart of anyone I know and I… I don’t deserveyou. I never really have. But you still like me for some reason, and I.” Heswallows. “I… sort of… love you.”

Wyatt and Flynn glance at each other, without meaning to.

Jiya blinks, clearly startled. She opens and shuts her mouthas Rufus continues to stand there, gazing at her with desperate hope. “And,” hegoes on. “I know you have no reason to, but I need you to believe me, and Ineed you to help us. We need to get into Mason Industries. Tonight.”

Jiya blinks again, rubbing her eyes as if hoping to wake upfrom this dream. She starts to look away, but he doesn’t. “I…”

“Look, girl!” Flynn takes a step, but Wyatt throws out anarm to catch him smartly across the chest. “It’s important!”

Jiya surveys them for a few moments, up and down. She bitesher lip. Then, and all at once, she turns around. “Okay,” she says, barelyabove a whisper. “I’ll get my keys.”

—————

“Rufus, you’re a badass,” Wyatt mutters, as they pull up infront of Mason Industries in Jiya’s car, step out, and wait tensely as sheswipes them in with her ID card. Even in this reality where they’re not wantedcriminals, it feels ludicrously exposed to be strolling in like this, and allof them flinch as the cameras swivel over. “How long is this going to take?”

“Shouldn’t be too long. Breaking the decrypt is the hardestpart.” Rufus takes a deep breath as they follow Jiya inside the gloomy steelwarehouse. “Then, well, the software is kind of, that is, it is very much is in beta, so – ”

“Now you’retelling us this?” Wyatt stops in his tracks. “No. None of this remote-retrievalbusiness.  It’s too dangerous. You comewith us. I’m not losing you either.”

“No!” Rufus stares back at him fiercely. “Listen to me!Wyatt, you know we can’t let Rittenhouse have the Mothership, and we can’t racein there like idiots, just like they’re hoping we will, to save the womenwithout thinking of the consequences! Besides, if God forbid something does gowrong and you have to get home in the Lifeboat, it only fits three people,remember? One of us has to stay behind so there’s a spot for Lucy! It comesdown to this. Do you trust me to do my job or not?”

“Of course I trust you. That’s why I don’t want to leaveyou!”

“Then that’s why you have to.” Rufus remains unyielding. “IfI can get this patched in, I am the only one who can drive the Mothership, andthat means I have to do it on autopilot, from here. Otherwise it won’t work.This way, you and him go, breakheads, and get things straightened out so Lucy can come home. Istay here and pull you out. Yeah, you bastard, even you,” he adds, raising hisvoice and looking pointedly at Flynn. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better thanto leave you behind, but she seems to see some redeeming qualities in you. Noclue what those are. So you still get a ride back. Don’t make me regret it.”

“If you stay here to drive the autopilot,” Wyatt saysquietly, “and the timeline switches back to ours, you could be sittingin a roomful of Rittenhouse agents.”

Rufus considers. Then he says calmly, “Fine. I’ll take thatrisk. And drive you somewhere away from here. If I go down, you three keepfighting.”

Wyatt looks at him helplessly. Then Flynn calls, “If you twoare not going to make out, perhaps you could get on with what we came here todo?”

Rufus swears under his breath, turns to the terminal, andboots it up, overriding its login screen in about half an instant. Jiya’s eyesgo wide as his fingers fly over the keys. “You… you really do work here,don’t you?”

“Told you.” Rufus enters a few commands, deletes them whenthey don’t work, and starts running some kind of complicated algorithm. Ittakes him a while to locate the program, which is only half-finished, and thencompile the extra code, as Wyatt and Flynn are getting antsy. He tries a few launches,which don’t work. Jiya suggests something, and he tries that instead. Wyatt andFlynn are practically climbing the walls. Then at last, with a whoosh and aflash and a pop of bent space-time,the Mothership whirls into existence on the launch pad in front of them. Wyattbriefly wonders if there is a second Mothershipand Lifeboat here in this timeline, and then decides he would rather not gointo that. His head hurts enough as it is.

“Yes!” Rufus crows, punching the air, as he finishes theexecute command, copies the program onto a drive, and goes up the steps tocheck that it’s been properly implanted. Once it is installed, the Mothershipcan only be driven from this computer bank here. God, Wyatt hopes that theuniverse does not choose this moment for technical difficulties. The entirereason they’re running this risk, after all, is so they can stand a chance ofwinning the battle (rescuing Lucy) and not losing the whole war (lettingRittenhouse get their hands on the damn thing and torch history even morespectacularly than Flynn – much as he hates the son of a bitch, Wyatt knows bynow he’s not the worst thing out there, not by a long shot). This will work, ithas to. Maybe. Maybe.

“Okay,” Rufus says. “It’s installed. We don’t have time fortests, but I think it’s running properly. So if you two can not kill each otherbefore you get there, that would be good.”

Wyatt considers that just him and Flynn alone in a timemachine is going to be very, very interesting. Too much so, in fact. But theyhave to get to March 4th, 1829. They have to. It’s screaming in hishead – and again, no matter what he thinks of Flynn, it’s clear that he’sfrantic too. For his daughter, yes. But also for Lucy. Not that Wyatt hasforgiven him at all for getting them into this situation, but at least there’sthat.

Wyatt and Rufus clap each other hard on the shoulder, awarethat if this goes wrong, this might be the last time they see each other. ThenWyatt and Flynn go up the stairs of the Mothership, strap in, and stare at eachother in tense silence, as the door cycles shut. On the video screen, they seeRufus return to the command chair and start up the launch. He raises a hand. Good luck.

We who are about todie salute you, Wyatt thinks. He pulls the seatbelt tighter. If thisdoesn’t work, he’s killing Flynn. It won’t fix it, but it’ll make him feelbetter.

The lights flash. The engine revs. Wyatt looks back. Justonce.

Then the world is gone.

—————–

March 4th, 1829, in Washington D.C. is a festiveoccasion, red-white-and-blue bunting strung up everywhere and onlookers turningout to crowd the streets, newspapers and souvenirs being flogged as at anypublic event and plenty of optimism that President Andrew Jackson is just theman to get the damn redcoats out of the chunk of New England they have beensquatting in for the past fifteen years, ever since the fall of Fort McHenryand the sporadic, ongoing battles to chase them out. This is strange enoughthat it almost gives Lucy vertigo, even as she can’t help thinking that if theNorth is still partially under British occupation and control, there is no wayit’s going to be able to get its act together for the Civil War in another fewdecades. Is that what happens? The Union loses? Oh Jesus.

She is keeping a sharp eye out for her chance to get awayfrom John and Emma, as she has no intention of attending this Rittenhousemeeting with them. John is absolutely delighted by everything – if this is howhe feels going just fifteen years ahead of his own time, Lucy thinks, he’d befloored by her future. Not, of course, that she intends to let him get there. Sheremembers her own delight at first beholding the past in the flesh, in fullcolor, and then pushes it away. John is so happy because he thinks he’s finallyon the verge of controlling it. Of dominating it. Putting all those hands ofthe clock exactly where he wants them.

It takes Lucy a bit, but once they’re in the crowds by themuddy road, waiting to see President Jackson ride by in his carriageto the grandstand, she finally manages to give her companions the slip. Duckslow, shooting out the back of the crowd and starting to move. She doesn’t know exactly where she’s going, but if Rittenhouse put outsome kind of lure to get the boys here, they’ll be arriving soon.They’re not going to leave her behind, for better or worse. But they also don’tknow just how monstrous of a trap this is.

She can’t exactly ask anyone if they’ve seen a glowingfuturistic white orb recently, so she isn’t sure what the quickest way to findthem is. She doesn’t have much time; John and Emma must have noticed herabsence by now. She searches up and down, heart hammering. Thisis insane, this is insane, there’s absolutely no chance that she’s going tojust –

“Lucy?”

She really does stop breathing at that. Whirls around, lockseyes with Wyatt, who clearly can’t believe what they’re telling him, and theyremain frozen for an instant longer. Then they rush at each other, throwthemselves into each other’s arms, and hug the breath out of each other intotal disbelief, talking over each other. Lucy is trying to explain to him thatapparently she can travel, just not back to the present, and he’s babblingsomething about how much history has changed in said present, and then sherecovers herself and remembers the important point. “Flynn. Where’s Flynn?Where’s Rufus? Did you three figure out how to – Wyatt, listen, it wasn’t Flynnwho erased me. It was Rittenhouse.”

Wyatt stares at her with creased brow. “What are you talkingabout?”

“Rittenhouse. John Rittenhouse, Emma tricked Flynn intogoing to 1814 so he could get his hands on me. It’s a trap, it’s all a trap.”Lucy’s words are spilling over each other, not making much sense. “She’sRittenhouse, she’s a double agent, she’s been working for them the whole time.John knows, the whole time he’s been planning for this, for – ”

Wyatt continues to stare at her in incomprehension. But atthat, his gaze flares with shock. “What? Emma?Emma Whitmore? She’s a traitor,she –?”

“Yes.” Lucy grips his jacket. “It was all a plan to get meaway from you and Flynn and Rufus. We have to go, we have to find her, we – ”

“We met her,” Wyatt says. His face has gone white. “Jesus,we met her. Coming in, right after we landed. Told her to head back to theMothership and wait for us there. What – Jesus,are you saying – ”

“Where’s Rufus?” Lucy’s voice almost rises to a scream.“Where’s Flynn?”

“Rufus stayed behind. In 2017. Long story. Flynn – ” Wyattstops. “He was with me when we landed, I don’t – Lucy, if Emma’s Rittenhouse, we told her where the Mothership is – ”

They stare at each other a moment longer.Then they whirl and run.

It’s a torturous sprint out of the crowded city.Lucy doesn’t know how they can be here if Rufus isn’t – neither Wyatt nor Flynncan pilot the machines themselves, after all – but that appears to be aquestion for later. They veer and dodge and hurtle and run harder, untilthey finally blast into the treed grove where the Mothership must have landed.And do so just in time to see Emma Whitmore point her gun, pull the trigger,and hear the shot go off like thunder.

Garcia Flynn staggers, blood blooming on his shoulder, but he still tries to charge her. Emma shoots again. “That, by the way,”she yells, “is from Lucy. She was the one who handed Iris over to us, you know.So I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talkabout.”

Flynn roars, even as Emma vanishes inside the Mothership andthe door cycles shut. He runs toward it, grabbing it, as if he’ll keep it therewith his bare hands – even though if it jumps when he’s still holding it, he’llbe scraped gruesomely out of existence worse than being dragged by a freighttrain. It’s only Lucy’s scream that makes him turn his head. “NO!”

Startled, he lets go, as Wyatt jumps past, draws his gun,and starts firing. Bullets pop and bang off the hull – if he can shoot it likeFlynn’s goons did to the Lifeboat in 1754, disable it – Emma shouldn’t be ableto drive it – but what did Rufus say? Onlyanother expert-level pilot would be able to override it, and Rittenhousedoesn’t have one of those. Except, of course, they do. Emma knows it possiblyeven better than he does. If she overrides it, if she jumps –

The flaw in the plan, Wyattthinks madly. And holy shit, what aflaw.

He gets a shot off, close to the Mothership’s mainmotivator. It’s taking Emma longer than usual to launch; it’s clearthat even she can’t get around the autopilot lock immediately, and Wyatt feelsa brief, savage pride in Rufus’ genius. He shoots again. Sure, it might meanthat he is stranded in the Jackson administration for the rest of his life, butit’s still better than letting Rittenhouse have it. Lucy is on her knees, tryingto get to Flynn, who is completely beside himself. He struggles with his goodarm to get out his own gun, aims, and fires.

Something blows on the Mothership with a cascade of sparks. Butit’s too late. The next instant, it flashes out of sight, out of existence,rippling the trees. If she jumped successfully, or if she didn’t – if she’sstuck somewhere just outside the space-time continuum – Wyatt has no idea.

He turns around. Lucy’s face is dead white. Flynn has beenshot at least twice, and he’s losing blood. Rufus is back in 2017. Emma has theMothership. Rittenhouse has Iris. All the curse words Wyatt can think of – and believehim, he can think of a lot – still seem insufficient to encompass theterribleness of the situation. Even the world’s most prolific porn star hasnever been as fucked as they presently are.

“Flynn.” It’s Lucy’s voice that breaks the silence. “Garcia.Garcia.”

Wyatt has never heard her sound like that. It twistssomething in his gut.

Flynn doesn’t answer. He presses a hand to his bloodstainedshoulder, but it’s clearly not that pain that he feels the most acutely. “They haveher?” he whispers. “They have Iris? You gaveher to them?”

“Listen – it was a trap, all right? It was a trap.” Lucychokes on a sob. “I didn’t – Emma – ”

Flynn closes his eyes as if he doesn’t want to go onexisting just then. As if the one thing worse than losing something, someone,is thinking that you might have somehow, miraculously found them again, againstevery and any odd – and then realizing that you haven’t. That it is exactlywhat you feared. Wyatt is still determined to hate him with every fiber of hisbeing, but that twists an unwanted stab of sympathy into him. Losing Jess oncewas bad enough. Having to go through it again would completely destroy him.

“We have to get you looked after,” Wyatt says at last,barely above a whisper. “Then we have to find the Lifeboat, somehow makecontact with Rufus, and get the remote-retrieval program installed in there, sohe can pull us out. It’s the only way we’re getting home.”

Flynn stares at him with utterly flat dark eyes. He clearly doesn’tgive a single damn.

“Garcia,” Lucy says again. “Please.”

Flynn considers it. Tries to get to his feet, and reels.Without intending to, Wyatt lunges to catch him, as Lucy darts in from theother side. They manage to hold him up, if barely. He is considerably biggerthan either of them.

“Fine,” he says at last, and spits blood. “And then I’m going tokill everyone.”