#I’m only 5 chapters in and it’s dredging up so many memories and emotions

[harmonizewithechoes]

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[xxxtrouvaillexxx]

Let’s Strike a Deal

A/N: This is late, I know. If you have not realized from before, I’m really bad at meeting deadlines. Well, at least deadlines that I’ve created for myself to follow because I like to procrastinate things and frankly… what am I gonna do to myself? Band myself from tea until I’ve written a chapter? I don’t have the self control for that! And life is hectic. But you know, enough with my excuses and onto the story. Hope you enjoy. I always love feedback so please be sure to leave a comment! ALSO I wanted to give a TRY (key word) to first person. If I don’t like it... I might change it, idk. I should never write anything at 3am as per evidence below, especially without editing lmao

Pair: CEO!Tom x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the small town of Hawkshead girl trying to make her way in the big city of Westminster, London. Not as easy as she thought. When things start to take a turn for the worst one afternoon and only one man in the crowd of hundreds decides to help her, she does something rather uncharacteristic and gives her savor her number in case he could ever use help of his own. Course, she never expected for him to actually call her out on it.

Masterlist

Warning(s): none… yet. Cursing?

Word Count:

My time was limited. There was nothing left that had to be done here or anything left to pack. Everything I’ve ever owned sat in a car on the way to my new apartment and last of the suitcases were in the bed of my brothers pickup at this very moment while I sat on the floor of my room. There wasn’t anything left for me here, I knew that, but it was still difficult to say goodbye to the place that carried so many of my favorite memories and the imprints of my childhood that still were splayed around the surrounding room.

There were two dents in the wall right in front of me from when I was ten and hit my head after tripping on one of my toys, thumbtack holes that littered everywhere above the bed from forts that I would make with my brothers and friends, nail polish that was spilled on the carpet from times when I was too distracted with talking than keeping the bottle up straight, my engraved initials on the windowsill. The memories that I had made in this room were countless and they were all absolutely priceless.

“Y/N!” I heard your mother call from the living room, her voice was slightly hoarse from held back emotion and it broke my heart to hear her like that. “You got to get going, dear! You’ll miss your train if you wait much longer to head out.”

Taking a deep breath and slowly standing from the, now old, bed I made my way toward the door, feet dredging behind me and scuffing the floor as I walked out. “I know, Mama. I’m just-” the words caught in my throat and I was at a loss. “I’m really going to miss you guys so much.”

“Oh stop it, you’re gonna make me cry if you keep on like that,” She said giving a tight hug before pushing me out the front door. “You are going to love it in London so much you’re not even gonna be thinking about us here, so get goin’. Your brothers already waiting for you in the car.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I love you Mama! I’ll call you when I get there!”

Jumping into the passenger seat of the truck, I waved final goodbyes from the window, dramatically blowing kisses as the car started to drive away.

“You better!” She exclaimed, watching as we pulled out and down the road.

“She is going to be a mess when I get back home. I can’t believe you’re going to leave me to deal with that alone!” Christian, stuck driving you to the train station much to his dismay, gave you a mocking glare. “After all the things I’ve done for your, this is how you choose to repay me? I’m pretty sure I’m getting the short end of the stick here,” he laughed humorlessly.

“Ahhh~” I cooed and smiled, “You’re only saying that cause you know you guys’ are going to be missing me so much!”

“Miss you?” He scoffed, “Yeah right. What we’re going to be missing is your baking. It’ll be the greatest blow our family has faced since 1824.”

I gave a scathing look, “And what, if I may ask, happened in 1824?”

“Don’t know, but something bad probably.”

»»-——————————————-««

I have never been so sore getting off of a bus in her life. The cheapest route to get to Westminster from Hawkshead was a train and 8 bus stops, totaling up to 10 or so hours in and out of vehicles. I groaned and stretched when my feet planted on hard asphalt for the first time in what seemed like forever. But, for all the soreness, I had made it to my destination with time to spare.

It was louder than I had imagined, crowded with traffic from all directions and people running any which way to get on with their lives. It was bustling and busy. Lively. Not exactly what I was used to which made me smile. 

Wide.

I made it. 

I only had a suitcase with me, the rest of her belongings would be delivered in a few days to the new apartment. 

My apartment. 

I was positively giddy at the thought. 

It took a lot of self control to keep from skipping down the side walks while I somehow navigated the new scenery, but I managed to keep my excitement under wraps for the time being. Arriving an hour early gave me a bit of time to take in the bigger sites near by, like the Ferris wheel, the clock tower Big Ben, and my personal favorite- Westminster Palace and abbey. It was a dream of mine since I was little to see it in person, and now here I was standing mere blocks away from the grand building, elated and amazed. 

Vibrating caught my attention and I barely managed to turn my eyes away from the sites in front of me to my phone, Kyra’s name popping up on the screen. My best friend and now room mate, Kyra Bardou, who was probably wondering where the hell I was now. 

“Hey,” I drawled with an obvious grin I couldn’t even hide in my voice. 

“Hey yourself! I’ve been waiting at the stop for 15 minutes with no sign of you only to learn you’re already in town and didn’t even bother to tell me!” She spoke so quickly I was shocked she didn’t run out of breath and laughed. 

“I’m site seeing, sue me!” I turned and started making the slow walk back, “I’ll be back in a couple minutes, I promise.”

She only grunted in response and let me walk in a comfortable silence, letting me continue to take everything in while simply enjoying her presence on the line. It was the last few moments I’d get now, the last bits of my old life slipping through my fingers like sand in exchange for a new one. 

And the chaos that comes with a big city. 

Like robbers. 

I couldn’t even let out a cry as I was shoved to the ground, my phone forced from my hand and my suitcase caught up in a strange mans arms. It took me a whole 5 seconds to get my bearings enough to yell at the man and give chase, shouting for help though no one so much as looked our way, just moved out of his. 

“Stop!” I screamed, running but quickly losing him as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd skillfully. “Stop! Someone stop him!”

And this time, someone moved to action, running past me at an alarming rate and quickly gaining ground on my assailant before they both rounded a corner and I lost sight of them. 

My heart dropped and I picked up speed again, hoping that I didn’t let them get far enough away for me to lose them completely, it would have been easy for them to get away from me here.

But when I turned around the block, I found the man on the ground with the track star of a man on top of him, already on the phone with I assume the police. I finally caught up to them and without thinking, hugged the man on the phone, a silent thank you while he spoke to whoever was on the line, before I gathered my things and hugging them close to me. 

He smiled kindly, finishing the call and turning to me properly while still pinning the thief to the ground. “Are you alright miss?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, I’d have been completely lost without this,” I gestured to my luggage. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get it back. I don’t even know how to get around town yet.”

He laughed and nodded. “So new to town then. It was my pleasure to help, though I was really just doing what anyone in my position would do,” he responded kindly.

Furiously I shook my head, “No, you didn’t. I don’t believe I saw a single soul other than you move to help. Unless you did but beat them to it at the last minute. Not that that it implausible, you are seriously fast on your feet.” 

He laughed again and I noticed what a nice laugh he had, it was contagious and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of my own now that my adrenaline was fading bit by bit. “Yes, well- I do enjoy the sport.”

“Dually noted,” I grinned, jumping a little when my phone started to buzz in my hands. Kyra’s name popping up on the screen again. “Shoot!” I exclaimed and answered. I wasn’t even able to put the phone to my ear before I heard her shouting my name on the line. “Kyra-”

“Oh my god, Y/N! What the heck happened, I heard you shout and then the line went dead! Are you okay? Did something happen? Where are you?” She was speaking so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear a safe distance as she spouted one question after another at me without reprieve. 

My rescuer across from me chuckled, overhearing my frantic friend. “I’m fine, someone tried to steal my stuff on my way to meet you. Luckily someone came along and helped me catch him, otherwise I’d have lost everything. But everything is okay now, we are-” I looked around and realized I have no idea where we were. 

He seemed to catch on to my newest distress and whispered, “Tell them we are on the corner of Tufton and Bennett’s Yard.”

I nodded and mouthed a thank you, “ Tufton and Bennett’s Yard,” I repeated and she said she’d be here in a 10 minutes and to sit and wait before hanging up the phone. 

I slouched on the wall of some building, letting myself relax. “Not to be repetitive or anything, but thank you.”

He just shook his head, “No need. You’re friend sounded pretty worried about you, it wouldn’t do well to let her stew in that worry longer than needed.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years since we last saw each other. She’d be pretty upset if something bad happened before I could even move in,” I laughed, though it didn’t quite sound right even to my ears. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I introduced and stuck my hand out. 

He took it and gave a firm shake, “Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. Even in these less than optimal circumstances.” 

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

“Y/N!” Someone yelled, and we both turned our heads to see Kyra sprinting full speed around her car and at me. I stood and braced myself for the collision of her, and fell back against the wall with the force of her body. 

“Holy shit, girl! You scared the hell outta me, you could have died! This is why I told you to call me when you first got into town, you always manage to get yourself into trouble like this. What would I have told your parents if something happened, huh? Huh!?”

I grinned and pulled back to get a proper look at her. Her black hair, normally frizzy was sticking out in every direction and her honeyed eyes wide as she scanned me over, running her hands over my arms for injuries. “I’m fine, Kyra. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right!” She shot back with a glare, “That doesn’t make me feel any better!”

“Well, there is a first for everything after all.”

Tom laughed hard at our back and forth, making us both jump a little and look down at him. Before I could even say anything, Kyra was down on his level with the thieves shirt in her fists and a scowl that would scare the devil himself on her face. 

“Is this the bastard that did this?” 

“Let go!” I shrieked and pulled her off, albeit with a little effort. “Tom called the cops and they’ll deal with this properly. Not you,” I said sternly. She just let out a huff of a response and pushed herself back enough to look at Tom properly. 

She gave him a once over and held her scowl in place, “So you’re the one who saved Y/N/N?”

He gave a small, hesitant nod and gave me a nervous glance. I just laughed and stood back up, as Kyra launched forward to give him a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured a few times and pulled back. 

“No worries,” he said, and looked far less distressed now that Kyra didn’t look like she wanted to gut him. “I was there at the right time is all.”

“Yes, well- That doesn’t mean what you did was anything less than amazing. My whole life is in that bag and in that phone at the moment. Seriously, if there is anything I can do for you in return it’s yours. Ice cream, some roller skates, a kidney. Just ask.”

Everyone laughed at that and he nodded with an obviously sarcastic “sure”, just as the police arrived to take the culprit and our statements. Kyra mumbled something about them being slow and went to the car for a few minutes to be out of the way. 

15 minutes later, everything was settled and they took the man away. Leaving Tom and I alone on the side walk again while I settled everything in my case to be sure I didn’t miss anything and quickly scribbled on a stray notecard. 

“I meant it when I said I owe you one,” I said and handed the card with my name and number to him. “Just give me a ring if I can ever be of any help at all and I’ll come running. Though, probably much slower than you did.”

He tried to decline the offer only once, but after some persistence he took it with another smile, “Thank you, Y/N. Hopefully this will not be our last meeting. And hopefully never again under such pressing circumstances,” he held out his hand, and I took it, returning his earlier shake with a firm one of my own and I agreed. 

“Until next time then,” he said and left. 

I barely was able to take my seat in the car before Kyra grasped my arm with a devious smile, “Y/N/N- Did you just give that guy your number?” My silence was answer enough and she laughed, “Girl! No way!”

No way was right, I thought with a small smile of my own as we pulled away and started home.

»»-——————————————-««

TAGS: open 

@drakesfiance @dumbgopher1​ @kewlbeans-22​​

[demigoddreamer]

Addressing Batman’s Abuse

Damian: I killed someone

Bruce(and the rest of the batfamily but mostly bruce): It’s ok it’s because of your childhood, you were raised to be an assassin as long as you didn’t murder anyone innocent and do better next time

Dick: I killed someone

Bruce: well i saved them didn’t count bye

Tim: I killed someone

Bruce: Seriously Tim? ok I’m kinda disappointed but i’ll be ok in a little bit(actually idk cause I can’t recall if tim ever killed someone)

Jason: I killed someone

Bruce: HOW DARE YOU BREAK THE NO KILL RULE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF **** WE HAVE MORALS YOU’RE JUST ANOTHER CRIMINAL, A MURDERER, A MONSTER YOU LET THEM WIN IF YOU KILL

Alright enough with the jokes let’s get serious, let’s talk about the abuse. I have a lot to unpack and if you’re like me who doesn’t have the patience to read long things if they don’t matter then i’m sorry . I can read school stuff but fanfiction more than like 30 chapters irritates me which is stupid because I love to read but the human brain is A FUCKING ANNOYING HYPOCRITE. I love the batbros with all my heart and we hate to see bad stuff happen to them. but Bruce...he can get away with hurting the people who he should see as sons and who in turn consider him a father figure. He is essentially taking advantage of their love for his cause. Because the most important thing is batman and the mission which he will hold above his own children, the people in his life who care about him and support him in his insane crusade. Batman is someone who is consumed by this darkness that causes him to sacrifice everything for the mission. It is stated multiple times that his Robins are supposed to be better than him, they’re not needed as assistants in the battlefield but rather emotional support as they bring a little light to Bruce's pain and vengeful darkness. The Robins become better people than Bruce. 

There are obvious examples of Bruce’s abuse such as his second Robin now Red Hood Jason Todd. Now I may be biased as he is my favorite but I love all the robins dearly so FREAKING much. Jason is constantly remembered as Batman’s greatest failure. Why is that? we are led to believe it’s because Bruce didn’t save him but really it’s because Jason didn’t fall in line with Batman’s code which is where we see the flaws in Batman’s philosophy. Why doesn’t Batman just kill the Joker? Jason makes some very valid points saying that all Joker does is cause pain and he keeps breaking out of prison and causing more pain and it’s a vicious cycle, a revolving door that Batman refuses to end. Joker and Batman are almost obsessed with each other. But Batman refuses to kill Joker saying if he does he can’t come back and Joker will win. It’s a war between numbers and moral high ground. But in reality who cares if Joker wins? It’s vague what does it even mean? Joker keeps on killing and if he was gone the world would be safer? It doesn’t matter if he wins as long as people live. Jason Todd is someone who is constantly hurt by the people who are supposed to love him. An example of this is Batman choosing to save Joker rather than his own son in the Under the Red Hood storyline. Jason is clearly heartbroken over the fact that Bruce refuses to kill the person who MURDERED HIM saying “I thought I’d be the last person you ever let him hurt” Jason obviously has lots of trauma PTSD depression and he probably just wants to feel safe pleading with Bruce to just kill Joker that’s it saying “doing it because he took me away from you” which Batman refuses just saying I can’t. 

Now there’s other instances that make my blood boil such as Batman and Robin #20. Damian died in Batman Inc. and obviously since Bruce can’t ever deal with pain in a healthy constructive way, he goes full dark and rage and sadness. He becomes desperate to bring Damian back, being abusive to Tim even when Batman tried to experiment on Frankenstein to bring Damian back and Tim blew the lab up. But Jason...oh god...Bruce wants Jason on a mission in Ethiopia to bring the people who tried to kill Damian justice . (Talia put a bounty on his head) and then Jason agreed, excited at the chance of working with someone he considers a father again. Jason has ceased his killing he has calmed down from when he tried to hurt them all, his mind was damaged by the lazarus pit and he went insane with pain and rage. From my pseudo psychologist perspective I think he thought hurting them would make his pain cease if he tried to hurt the things that caused his pain it would fix him. Anyway Jason is on kinder terms with them but it’s still rough. They’re not all that kind with him sure he’s made mistakes but they all have and he’s really sorry about it. Anyway after taking those bad guys down they talk about family and trust and faith. Then...Bruce does it and reveals the real reason why they came to Ethiopia. Bruce wanted to bring Jason to the place he DIED. WHERE THERE IS A BUTT TON OF TRAUMA. Jason is just so shocked at first he stands there looking numb. He isn't even angry yet. He stands there feeling the pain of that horrible day saying”You lied to me. this wasn't about taking down those mercenaries. You wanted to bring me here..to the worst place in the world...and here I was starting to believe all your crap about trust and faith” He sounds broken which he is he’s been broken by so many people and now Bruce who isn’t supposed to break him just did by taking advantage of him and bringing him to somewhere of horrible trauma. Bruce reveals that he brought Jason here so he could figure out how to bring Damian back to life explaining “Those killers were the mission but this was something else something I couldn’t ignore I thought bringing you here could jog your memory-maybe retrieve a buried buried deep in your subconscious that could help piece together how you came to life so I” and Jason finishes this saying “-could apply it to getting Damian back. Yeah I get it. Did it ever occur to you I might like keeping whatever the hell happened to me buried deep?”Obviously, Jason doesn’t want to relieve his trauma, he doesn’t want to deal with what happened to him a second time. He just wants to move on but Bruce won’t let him. Bruce doesn’t seem to acknowledge Jason’s trauma nor does he seem to care for his well being. “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t want me to dredge up the one thing I've been trying to forget. I don’t want to remember the most horrific day of my life, all right? You may like wallowing in your tragedies but I’m done looking back” which is true all Batman does is sit in the pain of his parents death and he can’t heal like and he spreads pain to others at this rate the dead parents excuse gets a little old. BUT THEN BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY “If you cared about me and what I’ve lost, you’d want to dredge this up! Don’t you see-there’s a chance you can help me erase one of the worst days of my life. You can give me the greatest gift of all and help me figure out how to bring my son back!” Here he uses a lot of pronouns referring to himself, CARED ABOUT ME, I’VE LOST, HELP ME, MY LIFE, GIVE ME, HELP ME, MY SON. Yes Bruce, make it all about you, cause we definitely want you too. You’re a grown ass man and Jason is the more mature person here, honestly all the Robins learn to process grief and heal and grow and they’re just generally better people. Bruce is basically saying I care more about Damian than I care about you and my needs are greater than yours so screw your feelings, your feelings don’t matter. He really only seems to care about himself and he wants to erase his own pain. He doesn’t even seem to consider what Damian would want and what being brought back to life would do to him. Jason knows what it’s like, the pain of it, he’s probably the only person who would understand why someone wouldn’t want to come back. After All of this Bruce doesn’t even apologize and makes some half assed promise for unconditional truth but Jason still accepts this and helps Bruce get Damian’s body back from Darkseid even though he didn’t have to. 

Also there’s battle of the cowl which I desperately try to ignore but what I can tell Bruce *cough* died *cough* at this rate whenever Bruce dies or some crap I’m like ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT??? But sorry back to the topic. Bruce had a message for Jason for everyone else was just like I hope you’re doing well I love y’all live your life for JASON HOWEVER. He was all like you’re a failure not because I didn’t save you but because I don’t like how you turned out. Also you have problems, you’re mentally ill(I know but don’t have to be so awful about it)and there’s a secret I shouldn’t have kept and bye. And he suggests help but WHY DIDN’T HE GET JASON HELP WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER HMMMMM? It’s so obvious Jason’s childhood is full of abuse of course he has bad mental health and all that jazz. Also he puts Jason in Arkham where the Joker is 5 DOORS DOWN. I don’t think I have to say anything but they could literally put him in ANY OTHER PRISON. Why this one idk?

Bruce beat Jason and was probably about to kill Jason in RHATO #25. All beacuse Jason shot penguin and since Red Hood is a criminal blah blah blah Bruce has to do something. Actually he doesn’t as he just assumes Jason killed him which he didn’t also he didn’t seem to consider mind control or clones or whatever and he thought it was a good idea to beat the crap out of his sons. Jason even points this out”You are a character, I’ve never seen you beat Joker that hard and you hate him”...Bruce is beating him harder than the Joker. BRUCE IS BEATING HIS GODDAMN SON, SO HE HATES HIS SON MORE THAN JOKER??? Here we see how Bruce constantly chooses Joker over Jason.

Let's also talk about Dick his first son (I love my circus boi). After Jason died *sob*(i’m gonna cry) Dick is pretty darn sad and Bruce didn’t tell him shit so he’s obv like hey what’s the deal and BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO BE MAD AT DICK. and he tries to kick Dick out of his life and be like leave your key get outta my face and he punched Dick LIKE BOI YOU DIDN’T TELL HIM ABOUT THE FUNERAL OR THE FACE THAT JASON DIED. We already knew it was bad because Bruce and Dick argued like my parents argue which is pretty bad. Lo and behold Bruce doesn’t apologize.

Also Nightwing #30 after Dick was outed as Nightwing and fake died on telelvision. Bruce used like WAAAAAAY excessive force. They were sparring but it got real violent real fast. And Nightwing wasn’t in the right mindset he was traumatized and Bruce totally took advantage of him by asking him to work for Spyral which Dick obv didn’t want to do but Bruce fucking FORCED that crap onto him after something as awful as that and he probably knew Dick would give in eventually that bastard. No, Bruce doesn’t apologize either.

Most recently Batman #71...now see this is Tim’s turn and I love my big brain boi Tim... and when you love a fictional character you know something bad is gonna happen. Bruce’s abuse, it’s kinda worse cause he’s a fucking KID. now Bruce be like let’s meet and shit so most of them are there and some evil villain is doing their thang and Tim is tryin be nice comforting Bruce, telling him that Tim will always be there and that Tim will help AND BRUCE FUCKING PUNCHED HIM. HE WAS JUST TRYIN BE NICE AND HELP YOU FEEL BETTER YOU POS. Now do we see Bruce apologize? NOOOOO. What did you expect? Honestly it’s not that hard it’s a simple sentences even a dumbass like you can manage it

Now I’m not totally familiar with any abuse on Damian but it’s there. Bruce is allergic to emotions, and it’s hard for him to be emotionally supportive and show any affection whatsoever. Showing any semblance of pride to Damian is like me trying to do pushups it’s FUCKING impossible for Bruce to show any compassion toward his son whatsoever (seriously though push ups are a pain in the ass I’m not athletic whatsoever why do you think I waste my time venting on tumblr the only thing I’m good for is being the smart kid in school and even then some people outshine me in that.)...sad but I’m not here to complain about that. Anyway Dick is a BAMF and openly shows Damian hey i’m proud of you and I love you. IT’S NOT THAT HARD BRUCE.

Bruce can’t ever be happy, he doesn’t let himself be happy because he can’t move on from that tragedy that happened to him. And he doesn’t allow anyone around him to be happy either. Shown as when Dick is like hey I can be in love with someone and we can be long term we can be happy together. BRUCE BE LIKE NUH HUH VIGILANTES CAN’T BE HAPPY WE HAVE TO SACRIFICE FOR THE MISSION. Let your son be FUCKING HAPPY. I know I sound like I hate him and maybe I do a bit but I don’t think he’s like completely Joker evil and irredeemable. I just can’t deal with how DC handles abusers like Bruce and having characters enable this behavior. We need to know that Bruce’s behavior is not ok and his children are completely numb to it, it’s normal to them and it’s disgusting. Bruce needs repercussions and he needs to know that he can’t do that to kids who love and trust him.

LINK TO PART 2:

https://demigoddreamer.tumblr.com/post/639314330465222656/addressing-batmans-abuse-part-2

If a loved one is hurting you reach out and seek help. You deserve the world

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Edinburgh to Boston - Chapter 9 - Snow Day

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3

Chapter4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Hello all, Sorry for the delay getting this chapter out there.  Real life some times gets in the way. This includes technology as my hard drive died. I didn’t lose much, most of what is really important was able to be salvaged.

I finally got around to including links to the other chapters, so anyone who has not read them all will be able to find them if they want. 

Has anyone noticed that Jamie has not called Claire Sassenach in eight chapters? Well, that will be rectified now. You don’t know how hard it was not to call her that all this time.

If there are any questions, comments, or thoughts please don’t hesitate to let me know. I can only learn from what you all say. Respectfully, please.

I do need to thank my beta @curlsgetdemgurls reading this and giving me the courage to post this. You are the best. Chapter 10 is underway.  I have no idea when it will be done, but there is a Chapter 10. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Without further delay, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 9

Snow Day

Jamie and Claire sat at the table by the window, enjoying their breakfast. Jamie attacked his bowl of parritch, mixed berries, and honey with the ravenous appetite of a starving wolf who just happened across a carcass.

“Nuthin’ like a healthy bowl of parritch to start the day,” said Jamie, giving a withering look at Claire’s breakfast choices of fried eggs, bacon, and toast slathered with butter and jam.

“Well, Fraser, when in America, eat like one,” she said while waving a delectable piece of crunchy fried pork in the air. “It happens to be quite good. Even though they have got this bacon thing all wrong. Not like the rashers we have at home. Still, it is delicious.” Popping the tasty morsel into her mouth, she rolled her eyes and groaned ecstatically.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the remaining piece sitting on the plate, “Looks mostly like fat to me.” He reached over, snatching the ribbon of porkiness from her plate, considered it, and swiftly consumed it. “Hmm, fatty, salty, crispy, and smoky.  ‘Tis good, but I wouldna want to eat it every day.  Cannae be good for ye.”

Sighing and shaking her head,  Claire leveled a look of exasperation at him. “Live a little will you? We’re on vacation!”

He let out a laugh, “Yer right, but there is no need to be unhealthy.  As it is, I’ll no’ be going to the gym today. Hmm, mebbe I’ll just carry ye around instead,” he said smugly. Tilting his head to the side, he gave her body an appraising look, much like gazing upon the beauty of a perfect rose.

“What do ye weigh a leannan, about 8-9 stone? That’s no’ much. I’ll never get a decent workout just carrying ye around,” he smirked.

“Why thank you, I think. That is supposed to be a compliment, right? You don’t think I’m too thin do you?” Suddenly becoming self-conscious, she looked down at herself trying to figure out if she was too fat or too thin.

“Aye, it ‘tis and no yer not. I like ye just fine the way ye are.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair stretching out his long legs and taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, lass, what would ye like to do today?”

“Well, if you are worried about not getting your proper exercise, there are other forms of exercise that will raise your heart rate, you know,” Claire said as she cast a quick glance back toward the bed.

Jamie ignored this.

“I ken what we can do! Why dinna ye take me to some of yer favorite places ye liked to go when ye lived here?”

“I don’t know if that is a wise idea. Boston winters are very cold and I don’t think that either of us has appropriate clothes to go wandering about. Besides, I don’t know how many places are open today. Most people will be digging out.”

Getting up, Jamie went to rummage through his suitcase. Sure enough, he found his favorite forest green cable knit pullover, his black jeans, a pair of duck boots, and his down jacket.

“Weel, I’ll be damned.  I dinna remember packing these. Check yer bag let’s see what you have in there.”

Claire opened her suitcase and found clothes suitable for outdoor activities. She found her favorite cashmere jumper in midnight blue and her woolen turtleneck sweater in deep rich wine. She also found her favorite black skinny jeans, a warm wooly hat and gloves, and her parka.

“I know I didn’t pack these. I’m sure of it.” Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she considered how these clothes ended up in her bag.

“It doesna matter how they got there, yer clothes are here. Let’s get dressed. I shall leave the itinerary to ye.”

Claire’s breathing quickened. She began to nervously play with one her curls, twisting it around her finger, over and over.  Truth be told, there was a certain amount of anxiety about leaving the room. She worried about dredging up old memories that she safely tucked away after ending her marriage to Frank. Least of all was the prospect of visiting places that held unpleasant memories. Most certainly she did not want to visit these places with Jamie. Fearing the possibility of a chance meeting with Frank gave her shivers.  She concluded that the likelihood of a chance meeting would be remote as classes would be canceled. That would leave Frank free to shack up with some bimbo, er umm, a young woman all day.

“What’s amiss, lass? Ye look a bit peely-wally. Are ye alright?”

“Sorry?”

“Something is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.”

Jamie walked back to the chair by the window, pulling Claire along. He sat down and settled her on his lap.

“I dinna want ye to feel that ye need to tell me anything that ye canna, but I can see yer fair fashed over something. Mo nighean donn, tell me what’s bothering ye if ye can.” He raised his hand cupping her cheek and began to stroke his thumb over her cheekbone.  Melting into the warmth of his hand, she relaxed.

“I wasn’t honest with you when I told you I slept well.”

She cleared her throat nervously, eyes darting around the room searching for something to focus on while gathering her thoughts.

“I, ah, had a nightmare about, ...well, it was about Frank. It left me feeling rather unsettled, to say the least.”

Her body language and voice were contradictions, outwardly appearing composed while her voice quavered with emotion. Describing her dream, she related how Frank tried to plant seeds of doubt and used her insecurities against her. The Scottish Barbarian and The English Rose. Insinuating she had a need for someone to dominate her. Jamie observed Claire as she told her story. Her face contorted with frustration, anger, shame; her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I told…,” her voice cracked, “I told him that I love you and you love me. And, and that he should bugger off and not come back,” Claire said this with pride in her voice. “But he said he would come back when I called him. I don’t want to see him ever again, really I don’t. I’ll never call him back, never.” With that, Claire buried her face into Jamie’s shoulder crying shedding tears of outrage and irritation.

Jamie’s mouth drew together in a tight white line.  His eyes burned with anger. That Englishman, that filthy sassenach bastard! How could he have the audacity to come into his bed between him and his woman upsetting her, trying to sow the seeds of doubt. He had no care for insults or slurs directed at him. He heard them before. But, Claire! She is kindness and goodness personified. If I ever meet him...

Jamie’s arms came around her, pulling her close to him.  His strong hands rubbed her back in soothing circles. He spoke to her softly in the Gàidhlig, speaking words of comfort that had no meaning to Claire but spoke to her heart and soul.

Jamie cradled her close to his chest and gently stroked her hair, “I’ll let nay harm come to ye as long as I walk this earth. Dinna be afraid, a leannan, there is the two of us now.”

Claire nodded her head and sniffed.

Jamie’s hand reached under Claire’s chin, raising it up so that he could look onto her face. Her eyes were puffy, nose red and runny, and her cheeks were tear stained.

“Ye are so beautiful, mo chridhe,” Jamie said smiling. He took a serviette wiping Claire’s runny nose as he kissed away her tears.

She sniffed, “You must be blind. I’m really not sure you should be operating anymore. I’m sure I don’t look beautiful right now.”

“Yer beautiful to me always,” he said lovingly.

Jamie’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Claire, if ye dinna want to go out because yer worried that ye will run into Frank,” he growled saying the bastard’s name, “I dinna want you to do anything that will make ye uncomfortable. We could always find something else to do.” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt at being suggestive.

“Ridiculous man,” she said with a smile in her voice, feeling so grateful to have found him.

Closing her eyes to aid her concentration, she considered Jamie’s suggestion carefully weighing each of the pros and cons.

How much longer will I give Frank power over me, to control me and my life? It’s been three years since we divorced and he still tries to make me insecure, belittle me. When will I remove myself from his grasp? It’s now or never. It’s time to choose.  Time to take back what’s mine.

“NO! No, I won’t run and hide.  Frank has run my life for far too long, and I’ll be damned if I let him continue. Let’s go see Boston, Jamie. We’ll make our own memories,” Claire said grinning.

“That’s my lass. Yer strong, brave, and fearless and I love ye for it.” Jamie gave her a resounding smack on the lips that left her breathless.

They quickly dressed and departed the room laughing, smiling with their fingers intertwined.

**************

Jamie and Claire stepped outside of the comfort of their hotel into the bitter cold and biting winds. In spite of being warmly dressed, the frigid temperature threatened to seep its way into the very marrow of their bones.

The sidewalks were barely passable despite the best efforts of man, machine, and salt. Icy patches dotted the landscape causing the lovers to slip and slide along the walkways. Jamie’s hand reached out taking Claire’s elbow to steady her. They climbed over mounds of grey city snow that sported an occasional yellow streak.

After walking for twenty minutes, they reached Boston Common, each sporting red runny noses and equally red cheeks.

“I’m beginning to think yer first suggestion to stay in bed all day was a good idea,” Jamie said with a smirk on his face, the steam of his breath escaping with each word.

“Do you want to turn back?” A look of concern written all over her face.

“Nah, I was concerned about ye, Sassenach.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks.  “Sassenach?! I know that word and it isn’t very nice.  Isn’t that something derogatory to call me?” Her amber eyes narrowed glaring at him with unnerving thoroughness.

“In truth, it depends on who and how they are saying it. The word sassenach really means Englishman or English lady. At worst, it means outlander. I have always called ye Sassenach in my mind.  Ye see I have always thought of ye as my English Lady. A woman of grace and refinement, a true Lady.”

With that, Jamie smiled placed his hand over his heart and made a courtly bow, “My Lady, I am at yer service.”

Giggling at the sight she decided to return the gesture.  Bowing her head and spreading the skirt of her jacket, Claire curtsied, “My Lord.”

Jamie popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Who told ye?” he demanded.

Claire looked quizzically at Jamie, “Who told me wot?”

“That I am a Laird.”

“You’re a wot???” she gasped.

“I am Laird Broch Tuarach of Lallybroch Estate.  My home. ‘Tis only an honorary title now, but it has been handed down in my family since the 18th century. Lallybroch is a working farm in the Highlands, ye ken.  My sister Jenny and her husband Ian run it. Their five children live there too. But, technically it is mine as I retain the title and will pass it on to my son someday.”

“Hmm, do I have to curtsy every time I see you, my Laird?” Claire asked with a coy smile.

Laughing to herself, she wondered how the OR staff would react if they had to curtsy every time he came to do a case.

“Nay, I think we can dispense with the formalities if ye please,” Jamie said with a chuckle.

“Good. It’s awfully hard to curtsy in the bloody snow.”

“May I offer ye my arm my Lady as we stroll about on this fine cold day...for the sake of yer safety of course. I wouldna want ye to slip and fall injuring yerself.” His blue eyes, as blue as the cold clear sky, crinkled with mirth as he extended his arm for her to take.

Bobbing her head, and lowering her eyelashes demurely she said, “It would be my pleasure, my Laird,” and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Claire suddenly wondered why this felt like such a familiar thing to do.

Jamie tucked her hand securely in place pulling his arm and her hand closer to his body. He began to speculate why it felt like he had done this more times than he could remember. It felt natural, more like an everyday occurrence for them to walk like this.

A strong wind blew up around them, coating Claire from head to foot in a sheath of powdery snow crystals. The hair that peaked out from under her cap glistened, lashes sparkled with the tiny flakes that clung to them, and her clothes were enrobed in glittering flakes. She took on an otherworldly aura.

His mouth opened as he watched the swirling dust of snow float around her.

She must be one of the faes. No, not just a fae, but Queen of the Fae. For only the Queen could be so beautiful.

He stood there envisioning her in the finery befitting a Queen. A circlet of silvery moonbeams would adorn her head accentuating her mass of curls. Her lithe form draped in a diaphanous gown made of diamond dust while her feet were encased in slippers made from starlight.

He wanted to fall on his knees in worship, beg her to take him to her Queendom. He would become her Knight of the Realm, her Champion. With dirk and sword, he would do battle shielding her from harm. He would slay dragons, protect her from evil sorcerers, and safeguard her from malevolent creatures. As darkness envelops the earth, he would sleep at her feet sheltering and guarding her against the dangers that lurk in the blackness of night. She had cast a spell on him and he was happy to be under her power.

He heard the tinkling of her laughter, much like a wind chime, light and gentle in the breeze. Her eyes crinkled with merriment as a small buffy-brown bird landed on her shoulder. It hopped along coming closer to her ear merrily chirping. Claire raised her hand and stroked the downy head of the little bird speaking softly to it. Her hand went to her pocket and returned with a bit of her toast from breakfast. She opened her hand and the warbler flew onto her hand seized the bread and took wing.

Jamie stood in awe of the scene unfolding before him. “Is a wild bird so tame for her?!” The scene repeated itself several more times with birds flitting along her arm, singing and trilling to her. Each was tenderly stroked, given a bit of bread, then flew off to join its fellows. Her hand went to her pocket pulling out the remainder of the toast wrapped in the serviette. She tore the bread into bits scattering it on the snow.  En masse a clan of the small birds gathered joyously chirping doing a demented dance around the bread, pecking at it.

Mary, Michael, and Bride, she is the Queen of the Fae!

Claire looked at him with a radiant smile.

For a split second, Jamie became irrationally afraid.

“How did ye do that, lass!? The birds, they seem so tame!”

“I don’t do anything, really. They just come. It’s been happening for a long time, ever since I was a little girl. It started not long after my parents died,” Claire said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Sassenach, do ye want to tell me about it if ye can?” Jamie asked cautiously knowing her parents' death is a painful and sensitive area for her.

There was a moment of hesitation, then taking a deep breath to steel herself for the memories.

“As I told you after my parents deaths my uncle Lamb became my guardian. He was writing a book on the meaning of birds in different cultures. While he sat writing in his study, I would play in the garden. One day, not long after my arrival, I was playing with my plushy dog when a bird, a sparrow, flew down next to me. Its head turned side-to-side watching me. Then it began to sing one of the sweetest songs I had ever heard. I held out my hand and it hopped on, chirping madly while wildly flapping its wings as if it were a leaf caught in a maelstrom.”

Claire’s eyes clouded and her lip quivered while struggling to maintain her composure as the childhood memories beset her.

“I began to pet the bird and it quieted under my touch. It began to sing again, but this time soft and low. For a moment, I thought I heard my mother’s voice singing the lullaby she sang to me at bedtime.”

She gave Jamie a sidelong glance to see if he thought she was deranged. He stood there calm, placid, face expressionless, giving no hint to his inner thoughts.

“I started to cry and the bird flew off. I got up and ran into to tell Lamb what happened. He picked me up, put me on his lap, and cuddled me to his chest. After he wiped my tears, he told me that ancient Egyptians believed that sparrows carried the souls of the dead to heaven. Perhaps this one came to tell me that my parents were in heaven with God and the angels and I shouldn’t worry.”

A single tear ran down her cheek.

“I was happy that Momma and Daddy were in heaven, but I really didn’t understand all of what he was talking about.  Later, as they continued to visit me, we talked about it again. Lamb told me that a Buddhist teacher he knew believed that a person in mourning is considered a very holy person. This holy state opens the mourner to experience things that are beyond the physical world and more receptive to the spiritual world. Lamb thought that was why I thought I heard my mother singing or my father’s laugh when the birds came. Grieving opened my heart to other possibilities.”

“Three months before you came,” she continued, “whenever I would walk Ginger in the park the birds would continue to visit. I began to hear another voice, a new one. It was deeper, rich, and very, very masculine. He would call my name, sometimes in passion and sometimes with love and laughter.” Giving him a quick sidelong look she finished her tale,  “I know now that it was your voice I heard.”

Jamie startled at this revelation. Was it truly his voice or could it be the other’s voice calling out to her from across the centuries? He wondered if she was ready to hear about the Fraser Legend. No, he thought not just yet. He disliked withholding something from her but now was definitely not the right time.

Beginning to fidget, she moved her foot in the snow gouging out a divot with the heel of her boot. She felt the heat rising up to color her cheeks. She was afraid to look at Jamie fearing that she would see he truly thought her insane.

Neither spoke for a time. The only sound around them was the wind soughing through the leafless branches.

“Claire, look at me.” Jamie placed his fingers under her chin forcing her head up to look at him. She kept her eyes closed not able to bear the disdain she would see in his eyes for her.

“Mo ghràdh, look at me, please. I believe you. I dinna understand it, but I believe you.”

“How can you believe me when it sounds crazy even to me? Really, Jamie! I have often wondered if this...” Claire waved her hand toward the birds eagerly consuming the bread, “was nothing more than the imaginings of a sad and lonely child who grew up to become a sad and lonely adult searching for her lost parents and her lost home. A woman who is so desperate that she convinces herself that some sparrows hold the souls of her dead parents. Christ, Jamie!”

He looked at her, her glass face giving away her sense of loss, loneliness, and pain. “Sassenach,” he spoke gently to her as if she were a frightened child, “I am an educated man but I am also a Highlander born and bred. I do ken there are many a thing that is beyond our understanding. There are many tales of the highlands that still canna be explained. Why not this?” His eyebrow lifted in an inquiry.

“Can ye explain what happened to Robert Gordon? The man was clinically dead after 30 minutes of resuscitation no heartbeat, no breathing. Then all of a sudden the man sits up and starts talking. He told us everything that happened in that room, everything we said and did. He said he saw his wife and bairns calling and greetin’ for him.  There was more for him to do he kent, so he decided to come back.”

“Yes, I remember.” Claire shuddered at the remembrance of the event. It still gave her chills to think about it.

“Can ye explain that? No, I dinna think so. There are things that are outside our ken. Why must ye explain yers? It just is. Dinna question it, especially when it makes ye happy to believe so.”

Her rational mind, the scientific part of her, rejected any possibility of this being true, but the little girl in her wanted, no needed to hold on to any chance that she might still have some connection to her family.

Claire’s eyes drifted down toward the snow.  The clan of sparrows left, all except three.  She sighed.  It was always the same, three of the warblers always remained, two males and one female.

The birds stood there cocking their heads from side-to-side regarding Claire and Jamie. The female and one of the males flew up alighting on Claire’s shoulder. The female came close rubbing her feathery head against Claire’s cheek, softly cheeping to her.  The male landed on her opposite shoulder gently pecked at her hair.

The more vocal male flew up landing on Jamie’s forearm giving him a level look. He began to chatter and chirp loudly hopping up his forearm with the determination of a sprinter moments away from the finish line.

His black birdy eye coldly glared while uttering piercing squawks of what seemed to be warning or admonition.  The feathery wings spread wide fluttering frantically. This was one very agitated bird.

“If we are going to believe these creatures possess the souls of my family, I think he is my father and these two are my mother and uncle,” Claire said with a small smile.

“Aye, I think yer right, Sassenach.”

Jamie reached up took hold of both of  Claire’s hands, linking them together.

“Sirs and Madam,” Jamie said with all solemnity, “I am James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, and I am deeply in love with yer daughter and niece. My intentions are honorable and I promise to see her safe, care for her and love her all the days of my life. I ask yer approval of our relationship.” He bowed his head in respect toward the feathery family.

In unison, their heads swiveled toward Claire questioning.

“I love him too. He fills my heart with love and joy. He takes away the emptiness. When I am with him it's as if the sun comes out on a cloudy day filling my life with light and warmth.”

The downy kinfolk flew around them coming to land on their joined hands singing sweet and mellow.

“I hope ye dinna mind, but I plan to kiss yer daughter.”

Their hands broke apart.  Jamie raised his hands up to cup Claire’s face, “Before yer family, I love ye, Claire Beauchamp across all time.”

“I love you too, always and forever,” she sighed into his mouth.

He leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. A kiss filled with so much love, tenderness, and promise.

His eyes crinkled and a smile lit his mouth, “Aye, I must love ye Sassenach, ye have me talking to the birds too.”

The little bird family took flight soaring high above the lovers and disappeared into the sky knowing their daughter and niece was well loved.

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 3/?

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Mature

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver go back to his place, but the immediate aftermath of her attack, and being in the home they shared, is a little more than either of them is prepared for.

Notes: For prompt #5 of Writer's Month: sound. Oh man. Y'all, I have such plans for this and I feel like I'll fail miserably at doing all of it. A couple new tags added: PTSD and Nightmares.

Warnings: Blood, non-graphic violence, injuries, PTSD, nightmares, and a host of other things. Please see AO3 for complete tags and warnings.

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2]

The ride to their former shared residence was quiet, save for the patter of rain that had started to fall. Belle was uncharacteristically still. Usually she would fidget in the car, adjusting the air vents every few minutes, running her fingernail around the button for the window, or looking at her phone. Weaver stole a glance at her when they stopped at a light, his lips pressed in a tight, thin line. She was looking out the window, her face illuminated by a strange mix of red, green, and yellow lights from outside.

He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what was appropriate for the situation. Usually he was watching others deal with the aftermath of a violent crime, family members, victims, witnesses, all processing events differently and trying to make sense of what their lives were now. He preferred being part of catching the perpetrator, helping bring some measure of closure to a chapter most people wanted to forget. It was outside of the sticky, emotional mess, almost passive in a way compared to the turmoil that went on inside the people he watched. This was wholly different. This was Belle, and whether she wanted him to be or not, he felt he should be a far more active participant. They both knew from the outside the things that would and could happen, but it didn't necessarily prepare you for the experience.

He pulled the car over in the first available space on the block, and looked over at Belle.

“You're sure you want to stay here?” he asked, resting his hand on the gear shift. “I could take you to a hotel, or one of the department’s safe houses?”

Belle gave him a wry smile. “A Motel 6 by the airport? No thanks.”

He nodded in acquiescence and opened the car door. “Whatever the lady wants.”

Her smile was just a little bit sly, but it faded quickly as she stepped inside the old building. It was the first time she'd been back since Sabine helped her move out her, since she'd made their separation as final as it could be. It was strange how she still sometimes thought of the top floor loft as home, how her apartment seemed like only a place to sleep and not a sanctuary from the harsh reality of the city the way the place they shared had been. There was something about the brick and stone, the old beams and exposed ducting, that for all it's cool industrial vibe, made her feel warm and safe.

The old elevator had been refurbished recently, with a new set of proper sliding doors instead of the ancient iron gate that had to be manually opened and closed. She commented on it and Weaver shrugged, mumbling something about bloody building codes. They shared a brief, amused look that shifted as they came to a stop at the top floor.

Belle waited while he unlocked the door and the deadbolt, and punched in the PIN code to turn off the alarm. It was still her birthday month and day, judging by the familiar tones of the buttons, and it made her second guess whether any of this was a good idea.

She followed him inside, glancing around the space as he relocked the door, noting the little things that had changed. The pictures on the mantle were gone, which wasn't that surprising given that most of them were of the two of them, and he'd replaced the floor lamp by the recliner. The one that had been there before had a little adjustable reading light on the side she liked to use in the evenings when he was working late. It made sense why he wouldn't want it around anymore, too many memories of coming home to find her curled up in a blanket, an open book or her Kindle on her lap, asleep in its glow.

He'd carry her to bed so gently she almost never woke up.

Weaver took off his jacket and draped it over the back of one of the barstools that sat at the kitchen island. Most of the place was the same as when she left. He kept the same furniture, the same arrangement of everything. He didn’t need to wonder if she had noticed. Her eyes were moving around the room, taking it all in again, and he bit back a sigh.

"Hasn't changed much,” she said finally. It was as if he'd just removed the last bits of her from his life and carried on. Something about that made her chest tight, but she turned to see him watching and forced a smile.

He shrugged. "Are you hungry? Did you eat anything before...?"

He gestured towards her, and she shook her head. “No, that's actually what I was doing when he...” She she looked down briefly at her bloodied clothes and then shifted her eyes over his shoulder and into the kitchen. Her voice seemed far away when she spoke. “I was staring into the fridge trying to decide what sounded edible.”

“Leftover lo mein from Chang's or cold Hawaiian pizza from Mario's?”

He smirked when she looked at him, and she halfheartedly glared back. “It was lasagna from Mario’s if you must know.”

He raised his hands, lips still curved in a bemused smile. At least they could tease each other and avoid some of the awkward tension. “I stand corrected. So, no, you haven't eaten then. Do you want... some eggs?”

A soft sigh slipped out and she nodded. It was her old standby when nothing sounded good, or she didn't have the energy for anything else. Whenever she came home late, lost a case, or had a bad day, he would make her a big, fluffy plate of scrambled eggs. It was simple and somehow always one of the best things she'd ever tasted. That was probably because he made them just for her.

Somehow they were never quite the same when she had to make them herself.

Weaver moved around the island and took out a pan before moving to the refrigerator and pulling it open.

She could have sat down at the breakfast bar and watched him cook, just like old times, but she was covered almost head to toe in dried, crusted blood, some of it hers, some of it not. The thought made her cringe. “I'm gonna shower if that's okay?”

“Of course.” He swallowed and turned away from the fridge with a carton of eggs in his hand. “Two or three?”

Her teeth pulled at her lip for a moment before she answered, “Just two, please.”

She heard the rattle of the pan against the stovetop as she turned and walked to the bathroom.

The shower did Belle a world of good, even if halfway through she was nearly scared out of her skin by Weaver slipping in to leave her a shirt and a pair of shorts to wear.

She had completely forgotten about not having any clothes or toiletries in the chaos of the incident, the police, and the hospital. Fortunately, Weaver had kept some of the things she’d left behind like partial bottles of her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, tucked away on the bottom shelf of the cabinet. She didn’t want to think about why.

He showered while she was eating, and for a little while, it felt like she’d gone back in time, as if the last two years were all a bad dream. Part of her wished that were true. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, but she wasn’t sure if they could reclaim the comfort and ease with which they’d integrated into each others lives.

They were different people now, weren’t they?

Weaver came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, bare but for a towel around his waist, right as she was putting her plate in the sink. It nearly slipped from her hand, and the sharp clatter of the fork hitting the stainless steel, startled him and made him stop.

“All right?” he asked, gripping the top of the towel with one hand.

Belle nodded and looked down at her hands, feeling a warmth creep up the back of her neck. “Fine.”

He gave her a strange look before he went into the bedroom, and she blew out a breath. This was ridiculous. They’d seen each other naked more times than she could count, even fairly recently, and there was no reason either of them should feel ashamed or awkward. She knew she’d feel safer and probably sleep better knowing Ian was nearby, but the tension created by everything that had happened in the last few weeks was getting worse. Something needed to give, but for now there was nowhere else for her to go.

She ran a hand through her hair, hissing when she bumped her stitches, and busied herself with cleaning the dishes until Weaver was done getting dressed. He came out of the bedroom in gym shorts and a t-shirt, and carrying a blanket and a pillow. He droppe them on the sofa as he crossed the room.

“I’ll take the couch,” he said, coming around the end of the island. “And the dishes.” He bumped her shoulder with his until she stepped aside and picked up the sponge she’d been using. “Go rest.”

She put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Ian...”

Pausing, he looked up from the dish in his hand with raised eyebrows. “This is not a discussion, Belle. You’ve been through a lot tonight, and you’re going to go through a lot more in the next few days. You need sleep.”

Her shoulders sagged, knowing he was right, but still too stubborn to admit complete defeat. “Fine, but I’m taking the couch.”

He set the plate in the drying rack and threw the sponge into the sink, splattering water and suds. “The hell you are.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed,” she insisted, folding her arms.

He wanted to scream at her that it was her bed too, or at least it had been once upon a time, but that seemed like it would only provoke another fight. It was strange enough to have her here again, he didn’t want to make it worse by dredging up a past she was already well aware of. Sighing, he picked up the sponge and wrung it out as he spoke.

“You don’t feel it now because of the pain meds,” he said, “but tomorrow you’ll think you were hit by a truck. It’ll be ten times worse if you spend the night on a sofa.”

Belle’s eyes narrowed and they stared at each other for a few seconds over the span of the counter, until she sighed and shook her head. “Fine. But if your back is trashed in the morning, I don’t want to hear any whining.”

Weaver gave her a crooked smile. “I’ve slept on that couch plenty of times, I’ll be fine.” Then he dried off his hands and came over to her, holding her gently by the arms. “Please. Get some rest.”

She hated how soft his voice was in these moments, and stepped back, shrugging off his touch. “Yeah, okay.”

Then she crossed the room to the bedroom door, stopping with her hand on the knob. She looked back at him, giving him a wan smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, his eyes wide and soft. “You’re always welcome, Belle.”

A short nod was her only reply before she slipped into the bedroom and shut the door.

It took Weaver ages to get settled on the sofa.

His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t shut off. He finished cleaning up the kitchen and then called Rogers to find out the status of the manhunt, which was that there was no status at all. The rain had turned to an outright storm, and that combined with the fact that it was nearly midnight was making a proper search slow going. All the area hospitals were on alert, as were the ones in Seattle, and for the time being the news media were on a forty-eight hour blackout where ADA French was concerned. Seattle PD had sent as many spare men as they could, but the Chief of Hyperion Heights Police, Albert Spencer, was ready to call in the FBI and hand it all off to them. Of course that had set off Captain Humbert, and Spencer had ordered him to go home. To top it all off, Belle and he were both officially removed from the case and two squad cars were now parked outside his building as a precaution.

Everything was turning into a total shit show.

He sighed again and shifted, turning onto his back and readjusting the blanket. Outside, the thunder rumbled along, and the wind slapped the rain harder against the windows. Any other time it would be a calming, welcoming white noise, but all it was doing tonight was making him ansty. He hoped Belle was having better luck getting to sleep.

A few minutes later, just as he’d given up on falling asleep anytime soon, and started playing a new game of Angry Birds on his phone, there was a crashing sound from the bedroom. He sat up quickly, dropping his phone on the floor, and tossed the blanket aside. That was immediately followed by a noise he couldn’t make out, and a scream that terrified him to his core.

The bedroom door flung open, banging against the metal stop as Weaver charged into the room.

Belle thrashed in the sheets, kicking at them haphazardly and pushing them towards the foot of the bed. “Get off me!”

Weaver hesitated for a moment, knowing she was in the throws of what appeared to be a violent nightmare, but unsure of how to approach her. The clock on the nightstand was on the floor, unplugged, which explained the crash he'd heard, and the lamp would be next if he didn't calm her down.

“Belle!” he called out, coming to stand at the end of the bed.

She cried out again and rolled over, slamming her fist down on the pillow. “No no no!”

He hurried to her side, and grabbed at her wrists when she whipped her body around again. “Belle, stop! You need to wake up!” She pushed at him roughly, and he let go, nearly taking a right hook to his jaw as he tried to back away. “Belle!”

As quickly as it had started, it stopped, and she blinked up at him, her eyes wide and wet. She looked like a frightened child, and something constricted in his chest. This was part of what he'd been afraid of, what he'd seen others go through too many times.

Belle stared up at Weaver, trying to make sense of what was happening. There’d been someone else there just a second ago, but now Weaver was here instead? She'd been in her apartment, in the kitchen, except this was not her apartment or her bed. Her eyes drifted down, expecting to see blood, but her skin was clean. A dream? Slowly her mind filled in the blanks as she pushed herself up to sit, and groaned.

“Shit, sorry,” she said, her hands covering her face as she sucked in a breath through her nose. Her heart was thumping as loud in her ears as the thunder outside. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay.” He sat down on the edge of the bed leaving a careful distance between them. “Are you all right?”

She dropped her hands and pressed her lips together. “I'm fine, yeah. Did I hit you?”

One shoulder shrugged. “Nah, too slow.”

Her mouth curved as did his, and she punched lightly at his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” he insisted, shifting closer. “But you didn’t answer my question. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Belle nodded and pushed her hair back. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t even know what -” She stopped and looked around the room, dimly lit by the light coming from the living room. “It’s all fuzzy now.”

“Probably best that way.”

She sniffled again and looked down at her hands laying in her lap. There was still some dried blood stuck under her right thumbnail and she picked at it with the thumb on the other hand. “Yeah.”

He ducked his head, trying to get a look at her face. “Do you want some water?” Her hair sway as she shook her head. “Should I leave the door open, or turn on a light, or -?”

“No,” she said lifting her head. “No, I’m -”

She licked her lips and took a breath as she reached for the hand he had braced on the bed between them. He let her take it, and wrapped his warm palm over her lightly chilled fingers, holding them carefully. She shivered, her eyes falling closed for a moment.

“Would you, um - would you do me a favor?”

Weaver gave her hand a gentle squeeze, much the same as she’d done for him in the hospital. “Anything.”

That single word from him made her wonder whether she had any fucking clue what she was really asking.

“Would you...stay with me?”

[natasha-cole]

Like the Heart Goes Chapter 6: If I put it in song, will my heart still heal?

Pairing: Rob Benedict x Reader

Summary:Breaking up is hard. Especially when you are going through it publicly. Rob and Reader are doing just that; trying to navigate the difficulties of an emotional breakup while still trying to remain civil enough to work together, and adding inquisitive fans and over involved friends to the equation certainly isn’t helping.

Reader finally reaches her breaking point.

Word Count: 2469

Warnings: angst

Catch Up:  Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4  Chapter 5

The last thing you wanted to do was be a part of the Saturday night concert. The entire convention up to this point had been terrible for you. You had managed to avoid Rob for most of it, and you were sure he had intended to do the same anyway. Now, you had to take part in this concert that was actually a big deal on the circuit. You had considered backing out of singing tonight, but it was something that you, as well as many of the other actors, just did. It was expected. If you chose not to sing with Rob tonight, you would be ending a 2-year long streak of performing with the band at every convention. Just this once, you decided to go with it. After tonight, you weren’t so sure if being a part of this night would be a good idea anymore.

You sat backstage with the rest of the cast, listening as the band played a number of their older songs. Matt joined them for his song; followed by Briana, Kim, Ruth, and even Jensen. There was always so much going on. The band would play original songs, everyone would take turns joining them for covers, even Schmelke, Rich, and Mark would join in, taking over their chosen instruments for a song or two. Jason also popped in for a few songs.

Near the end of the set, you realized that they had neglected to play anything from their most recent album. They were literally playing their old stuff. The recent album had been finished last year and they had continued to play songs from it to keep people interested in it. You wondered why tonight was different.

When it was your turn to sing, you suddenly grew nervous. Not about getting up there in front of everyone, you were used to that part. Right now, your nerves were solely because you would be singing with Rob again. No one here knew what you were feeling. How could they? So far, you had kept your breakup private, not even your friends knew what was going on. You sort of wished that they did know. Maybe then they would be more understanding of how horrible you felt over the idea of singing with Rob.

Earlier, during the band meeting that you were forced to attend, Rob had suggested that the two of you, along with Jason, perform ‘Long Train Runnin’. Whenever Jason was able to attend cons, the three of you always sang it. It was upbeat and fun, and the three of you made is sound pretty damn good. You were too tired to argue with the idea, even if it did make you sick thinking about it. Surely, it would just dredge up memories.

But, you did as was expected of you; you sang the best you could with Rob and Jason, trying to keep yourself at least looking interested. You thought that you would get through the performance just fine, but again, just being around Rob, especially singing that song that had become a staple in the concerts, had you feeling worse than before. You managed to keep Jason between the two of you, another move that was questionable. The fans would catch on to the fact that you and Rob were behaving differently. You didn’t really care so much; eventually, it would all come out.

When the song finally ended, you exited the stage without embracing Rob as you always did. He stood there, waiting for it, encouraging you to not let anyone in on the secret. You took a moment to look at him, debating whether or not you should play along. In the end, you held your hands up to him, indicating that he needed to leave you alone; then, you bailed. You rushed right off that stage, trying your hardest not to break down. It wasn’t getting any easier. Every little thing made it feel as if you were never going to be okay.

“What’s wrong?” Rich asked as you as you bounded off stage. Surely, he hadn’t actually witnessed the little scene that unfolded up there, but he could definitely tell something wasn’t right based on your behavior.

“Nothing is wrong, I’m fine,” you mumbled as you moved to sit in a chair.

“You don’t look fine,” he argued, “you look like you’re close to tears.”

“I’m not,” you lied, forcing yourself to get it together, “I’m just tired is all.”

“Hey, is everything okay between you and Rob?” he asked, “I mean, you two haven’t been around each other this weekend at all. Usually we have to pry you apart.”

“Jesus, Rich,” you shot back at him, “I don’t have to be around him every minute of every day.”

Before he could respond, the band began their next song. The music started, drowning out all other sounds, making it impossible for Rich to say anything else. You sighed in relief, only to have your breath catch again when you realized they were playing ‘She Waits.’

The song had nothing to do with you, but right now, the implications of it had you feeling a bit broken. From the sound of it, singing it may have made Rob feel the same way. He always had a hard time singing it, it had a very personal meaning to him. But, for some reason, he was really struggling with it tonight and the song had just started. You listened to his voice crack and waver through the first verse which was unusual. Usually, it wasn’t until the end of the song where he really could barely keep it together. By the time he made it through the first chorus and the second verse, you couldn’t listen anymore. You couldn’t see him, and you weren’t sure that you wanted to at this point. Just hearing the pain in his voice hurt. It hurt because you didn’t understand why he was acting so hurt.

“I can’t listen to this,” you said out loud as you headed to the exit. He hadn’t even made it to the final verse and you already couldn’t handle it.

“Y/N!” Rich called after you as he saw you leaving.

“No!” you shouted at him, “I’m done.”

You found yourself in the quiet hallway, the sounds of the concert drowned out now that you were further away. You weren’t sure what was worse at this point; hearing his broken voice as he sang the song, or knowing that he was milking this break up for all that it was worth. Of course, the last bit couldn’t be true. He didn’t even want people to know that he had left you. You knew that when it was time to tell people, he was going have a lot of people feel bad for him. He played that role of the sensitive, fragile man pretty well. You on the other hand, were great at hiding feelings. No one would believe that he had been the one to blame in all of this.

You leaned against the wall, still hearing the muffled sound of the music within the theater. Eventually, the song changed and the band went into ‘Mama’s Jam’. You stayed leaned against the wall, listening, still trying to compose yourself.

“Hey.” You jumped when you heard Rich’s voice come from right next to you.

“What do you want?” You mumbled, slightly annoyed that he had followed you.

“It’s almost time for ‘Medicated.’” He said, waving a kazoo at you.

“I think there will be plenty of kazoos, you don’t need me.”

“Don’t you think Rob would be a little disappointed if you didn’t join us?”

“No, I don’t think he’d care.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you replied, “I just need a break from all of this.” You fumbled in your pocket, pulling out your kazoo and showing it to him. “But, you’re right. I can’t miss out on ‘Medicated.’”

Luckily, it was the last song of the show. All you had to do was get through it, look like you were having fun, then you could disappear and go back to avoiding Rob again.

You joined the other actors onstage, watching as Rob worked his way through the song. He was suddenly very full of energy and appeared to be having a great time. You frowned at the apparent lack of sadness that he had been pretending to be feeling lately. He was in a really good mood and you hated him for it.

You and the other actors played your kazoos during the cast solo, and you thought you had gotten through it without a hitch. That was until Rob decided to single you out.

“Come on Y/N, I know you can do better than that,” he said into the microphone as you and the others harmonized. You ignored him, focusing on keeping in sync with the others.

“You’re throwing everyone off,” Rob continued, looking right at you. You glared at him, face hot with anger as he continued to berate you in front of everyone.

“She’s fine,” you heard Kim shout from beside you, laughing a bit at the teasing.

“No, she’s not harmonizing, she’s messing everyone up.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. It was stupid, he was just teasing, but you felt as if he were singling you out on purpose. It wasn’t enough that he was treating you like crap in general, now he was embarrassing you in front of everyone. You stopped playing your kazoo suddenly, still glaring at him. You were apparently messing up everything in his life. Before you could really think, you reacted. You threw the damn kazoo at him, watching as it hit him square in the chest before bouncing off and onto the ground. Obviously, it didn’t hurt him. It was stupid plastic kazoo that you were apparently really bad at playing. Regardless, he looked at you, shocked that you had actually thrown it at him. The rest of the cast looked over at you and you were sure everyone could see the redness in your face as you tried to calm your anger. Just when you realized that all eyes were on you, you bolted. You rushed off stage again, this time; humiliated, angry, and still heartbroken.

You waited backstage, knowing that you could easily run away from your embarrassment and your behavior. But something else was keeping you there. You had had enough of this. It was time to confront Rob over his treatment of you. It was time to stop playing this stupid game.

You stood backstage, waiting until the song finished.

“Y/N,” Rob said angrily when he saw you, “what the hell was that all about? You can’t just throw things at me onstage.”

“I think you’ve escaped injury.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

“I can’t do this anymore Rob,” you breathed out, more tears welling up. You were so tired of everything.

“What are you talking about?”

“All of this… the lies, the pretending. I can’t keep acting as if everything is okay just so you can save face.” Again, all your emotions had built up. Only this time, they were finally spilling out.

“Don’t do this right now. Let’s just go back to the room and talk about it.”

“There’s nothing left to talk about! I can’t even stand to be around you anymore.”

“You hate me that much? You can’t even be professional?”

“It hurts to even look at you. It hurts so much that I feel like I can’t fucking breathe,” you didn’t want to cause a scene. It was the last thing you ever wanted. But seeing him here, knowing that he was done with you but still leading everyone into believing that the two of you were okay; it was too much to handle anymore.

“I’m sorry…” he glanced around at your friends who were suddenly interested in your outburst. “Guys, it’s just one of our usual arguments, you can go now. We’re fine.”

“No! Don’t lie to them anymore.”

“Y/N, stop it,” he warned.

“I will not. You wanted to end this? Then you fucking end it, like a real man. Because I am done pretending that you didn’t break my heart.”

You felt yourself crying again, your words nearly muffled by the sobs. Your friends had all stopped in their tracks, witnessing the train wreck that was a long time coming. Rob glanced around nervously, and you could tell that he wanted to disappear. For once, he knew what you were feeling.

“Y/N…” he said carefully, eyes pleading with you to stop making a scene, “can we please not do this right now?”

“What is going on?” Rich was the first to break the awkward tension that had quickly built up. He looked at Rob, then at you disapprovingly.

“Tell him, Rob,” you pleaded with him, “tell them so we can just end all of this.”

Rob hesitated, still looking around at all your friends that were still waiting for an explanation. He finally turned to you, his own eyes teary.

“Fine,” he mumbled, “Y/N and I decided that this wasn’t working out. We’ve decided to take a break.”

No one said a word, it seemed as if they were almost as shocked as you had been when Rob dumped you. You rolled your eyes dramatically, letting out a frustrated groan.

“Stop it!” you shouted, “stop lying!”

You felt someone’s hand rest gently on your shoulder and you jumped, turning quickly to see Briana’s sympathetic expression.

“I- I don’t know what else to say…” Rob stuttered.

“He left me.” You decided to do the work for him. He was surely trying to make this all seem like it had been a mutual decision to make himself look better. “We didn’t decide to take a break, he decided to breakup with me.”

Still, no one spoke. Everyone stood around, trying to make sense of the mess that you were in as you cried.

“He wanted to keep it quiet, but I just can’t anymore,” you continued, “I can’t pretend to be okay, because I’m not.”

“I’ll get a separate room tonight,” Rob said quietly. You huffed at him, unimpressed that this was all he had to say right now.

“Don’t bother,” you replied angrily, “I’m done. I’m catching the first flight out of here and you can just continue to enjoy yourself.”

With that, you turned away and stormed off. You ignored your friends shouting your name as you left, knowing that you couldn’t bear to even face them right now. You were, all at once; embarrassed, heartbroken, angry, and exhausted. All you knew was that this was over. He was done with you for real. Now, your only objective was to get as far away from him as you possibly could.

Tag List: @gabriels-trix  @waywardswain   @winchestergirl-13  @soythedemonqueen  @laffytaffyhumor  @hunterpuff  @smoothdogsgirl  @reparo-live-soul  @riversong-sam   @lamthetwickster @angelsandhuntersgalore  

[testedtransgressor]

Warning/s: Stalking, PTSD

A/N: From here on, I’ll be (trying) to stick to twice weekly posts and increasing the length of these chapters. Also, feedback is always appreciated - feel free to hit up my messages, constructive criticism welcome.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

If Elena had expected her life to take a dramatic turn after her encounter, she was sorely disappointed.

When uni started back, she found herself so snowed-under with assignments and homework that she barely had time to think about anything other than work and coursework.

Six weeks later found her sitting in the lounge room of one of her classmates, listening as they argued about political bias in media.

"Bread and circuses," Leo insisted, "Have some sources that cater to whatever the bias is, but not at the expense of facts, and certainly not in mainstream media. Everyone else should be unbiased."

"What about personal experience?" Caitlyn demanded. "So many journalists use personal experience as a marker on whether an incident is likely to be true or not--"

"Then they need to make sure that they actually do reporting properly, and not let their emotions about the incident pepper their retelling; it's not that difficult to grasp."

"Guys, this isn't even on topic," Shay, their host, pointed out, "We're supposed to be addressing how bias is formed THROUGH media. Like, y'know, biased reporting leading to Trump getting re-elected or something."

"Because people are idiots, that's why," Elena shrugged, reading over the task sheet for their assignment again. "But yeah, can we try and get some research reading done?"

"Yeah, last thing any of us wants is to get caught at the checkpoints after curfew," Caitlyn agreed.

Brisbane had changed radically in the past year. Nobody was entirely sure what the catalyst had been, but over the course of several weeks, the city had gone from a welcoming, new-age city with some activist problems, to a full-scale riot hub. Police brutality had clashed with apparent gang wars, racism run rampant with the support of the Covid viral outbreak, and the government introducing stricter measures each day in a futile attempt to restore peace, resisted by a populace that balked at the idea of becoming a "Nanny state". It had culminated in the military being dispatched.

Checkpoints now blocked most of the major roads in and out of the city centre, and those living and working in the central zone were subjected to strict curfews. Elena, unlike her journalism classmates, was one of those who held a working pass that allowed her to be out after curfew - so long as she was near her workplace, or travelling to or from work. Fortunately, the curfew was only effective within the central zone - once a person exited the checkpoints, they were essentially free.

Despite getting their attention back on track and dredging up old samples of politically-biased news reports, the group didn't finish up until just after sunset.

"You'llbe fine to get home, won't you?" Shay asked Elena as they walked to the front path of the complex. Elena chuckled.

"Buses still run. So long as I make it to one of those, I'll be fine."

Shay looked at her carefully, as if assessing her, then sighed theatrically. "Fine, if you'resure. I was gonna say, Damien will be finishing in an hour; you can hang around if you'drather not walk about at night alone."

"The bus goes from Brunswick Street all the way to my place," Elena reminded her, "I'll be fine."

"If you're sure," Shay replied, though she didn't seem too convinced. She hugged Elena briefly, before smiling at her. "Let me know when you get home, then."

"I always do," Elena smiled back, before she started off down the footpath. There was still plenty of light, but she knew that it would fade fast, and with the latest cold snap, she wasn't eager to be caught out without a jacket.

She became aware of the figure as she reached the main road, but paid it no attention; people were still allowed to be out at this time, since the curfew didn't fully kick in until seven. Her paranoia, however, got the better of her, and she slowed her pace to see if the tail matched. When he didn’t grow closer, she felt the beginning of panic.

He might not be following you, she told herself, it could just be coincidence.

The memory of her encounter with the mugger returned to her mind, and she had to fight to stop herself forgetting where she was. Pausing to catch her breath, she sat at an unfamiliar bus stop, waiting for the youth to pass while she tried to calm her breathing.

Elena kept her eyes on her phone, pretending to text someone, as the male teenager ambled over to the bus stop's timetable. He read the list and swore softly, before digging out his own phone.

"Yeah, it’s me. Tell them I'm gonna be late... Yeah, missed the bus. Next one's in twenty minutes. I'll be home after that."

It was just a coincidence. Elena felt giddy with relief, and almost laughed at her own paranoia. There were so many people in the city, the odds of her being targeted twice in the space of a couple months was laughable.

She checked the time and stood up again. Her own bus passed the stop every fifteen minutes or so, but she wasn’t eager to stay in the city too much longer than necessary. If worst came to worst, there was also a convenience store that she could probably hide in as well.

She glanced back to see the youth had also left the bus stop, though. Immediately, the anxiety was back, and she sped up without meaning to. Maybe she should try to shake him, if he was tailing her? He could just be heading to the shop to get a drink or something, her brain suggested, but the paranoia was already shading her thoughts.

Elena turned down one of the side streets, hoping that maybe he would walk past and she could relax again. When he turned the corner though, she felt her heart rate increase. She crossed the road, speeding up slightly, and glanced back to see him do the same. He was focused on his phone, but what if that was just a ruse?

There's a park around here, maybe I can lose him by hiding there until he goes away, she thought, turning down another side street. A part of her brain tried to rationalise what was happening, but with each turn and change in pace, it became harder to deny that she was definitely being tailed. The guy was persistent, but patient enough that he didn't force anything. Maybe he had no ill intentions?

By the time Elena had reached the park, however, the twilight had faded and she was completely reliant on street lights. To make matters worse, her phone battery was low, and she wasn't sure if she should try to call the police while she hid, or just wait for the male to give up and leave.

The park was darker than she had expected, and she almost bailed on the idea of entering - but there was enough shrubbery to cover her if she did decide to stick with her plan. If it didn't work, she could always run - the park was only one block from Ann Street, which would still be rather busy with the restaurants and bars that were permitted late trading licenses.

She turned, following the path as if to cut through the park and putting a large sculpture and tree between herself and the tail’s line of vision. Quickly, she dived into the garden, wincing at the loud crunch of the undergrowth and mulch that was used to create the bed. Shuffling, she put herself behind the small hedge that bordered the path, using a flowery shrub for extra cover. She could still see the path and anybody on it, but she didn’t know it she was easily visible, or if he’d seen her duck down.

The mulch had barely settled before she heard footsteps, hurrying forth and stopping as the youth looked around the dark area. He swore softly, and Elena closed her eyes, praying for him to just give up and leave. All he had to do was look down at the garden, and he would see her...