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peachyteez · 4 years ago

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death’s grip ≫ DAY ONE, TRUST.

the tiger hybrid managed to escape from south korea’s top illegal hybird ring fights. of course, they didn’t let him go so easily. losing his chasers in a forest, covered in blood—his and others’—he decided to accept his fate of death from his wounds until a female and two other hybrids managed to take him from death’s grip.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @choisaniskillingme, @joongiebug, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @koasworld, @sunsethw4

can’t be tagged: @yoongisleftboob

feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to the list!

✧ note: i know this is a day late; i have a lot going on and uni’s not being very nice :(

✧ WARNINGS: mentions of blood and death

next。

“okay, now that we’re here—yunho, come back!”

it’s been roughly about two weeks since the three had settled in their new home. it was a new experience for all of them. for both seonghwa and yunho, they were experiencing the heaven of living with someone that actually cared for them and not just using them like toys. for jiyu, she was experiencing the feeling of having people to come home to, people to rant to when she had a bad day at work, and people that she can consider her friends and dare she say, family.

now that they had settled down, jiyu thought it’d be a nice idea if she could let seonghwa and yunho experience things that they had never done before. like this time around, hiking.

running after a cheerful yunho who went after a butterfly, she breathlessly chuckled at his inner child peeking through. “yun, i know you’re a giant, and you’re really easy to spot. but it’s really dangerous on hiking paths since the trail can split off and i won’t have any idea where you went, alright?” she smiled while ruffling his hair.

“sorry,” he sheepishly apologized, his tail wagging back and forth in excitement at the new adventure that he was about to embark on. “come on! let’s go!” he yelped before running off towards the path again.

seonghwa chuckled. “he really is a little kid trapped in a giant’s body,” he said before running after the puppy hybrid to join him.

jiyu looked after them with a sigh, but she couldn’t wipe the little grin off her face. “they’re such dorks,” she mumbled before running after them. “hey, wait for me!”

and that’s how it was for most of the hike: yunho running ahead, utterly fascinated with the little insects and flowers on the path. although jiyu had to physically drag the giant away before he could even touch the poison ivy. even if seonghwa wasn’t showing his excitement like yunho, jiyu could tell he was enjoying nature since his eyes were contently closed as he basked in the sunlight while walking.

jiyu smiled seeing them enjoy themselves. movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. her eyes lit up at the sight. “guys!” she whisper-shouted, pointing to a fawn and its child by a nearby river. “look, it’s fawns! but we have to keep quiet otherwise we’re going to scare them away.”

seonghwa and yunho’s eyes sparkled at the sight. they kept their eyes on the two animals who were drinking from the river. looking at their tails, jiyu couldn’t help but stifle her laughter—they were slowly wagging, a sign that they were invested with what was in front of their eyes.

suddenly, the mother fawn’s head snapped up in alert. staring at the trees nearby, almost as if someone or something was there, she nudged her baby before they both took off. jiyu furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. did they see something?

yunho pouted. “aww, i wanted to watch them a bit more,” he mumbled. seonghwa nodded in agreement, the same small pout on his lips, too. “did they notice us?”

jiyu looked in the direction that the mother fawn was staring at. she shook her head. “no, the mother fawn looked over there, not at us,” she answered, still slightly confused at what couldn’t been there to startle the fawn so much.

out of nowhere, a low growl was heard. jiyu and yunho tensed while seonghwa’s ears perked up in alert. standing protectively in front of the two, seonghwa intently stared at the direction that the growl came from. “who’s there?”

jiyu realized it was coming from the same direction that the mother fawn was staring at. carefully walking in front of seonghwa, she peered down and noticed an injured person sitting and leaned against one of the huge trees. her eyes widened. “sir! are you okay?” she called out, about to climb down the hiking trail and towards the injured person.

seonghwa grabbed her arm. “what are you doing? what if you get hurt?” he asked, his eyes filled with worry.

“he’s injured, hwa!” she defended. “come with me to check up on him.”

with a nod, seonghwa started carefully walking down the slope, away from the hiking trail. yunho hesitantly looked at the two as he debated if he wanted to follow them.

looking back at yunho, jiyu sensed his hesitation. “can you call the ambulance, yunho?” she softly asked, handing him her phone. after getting a nod, she immediately started to approach the injured man. but the closer she got, she noticed something on his head.

“a hybrid...” she mumbled. “yunho, wait don’t call an ambulance!” she called back to the puppy. looking back to the injured hybrid, her breath caught in her throat. he was looking at her with the most intimidating glare he could muster despite his many injuries.

“leave me alone...” he managed to growl out.

taking a closer look, she noticed he was clutching onto an open gash on his stomach, little cuts on his face, and he was covered in blood. blood was even dripping out of his mouth. she gasped. what happened?

“and let you die of blood loss?” she asked. seonghwa stood behind jiyu in case the hybrid were to attack.

the hybrid scoffed, wincing in pain after. “if that’s how i go, then that’s how it’ll be,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the tree. “i don’t need your help, so leave.”

jiyu bit her lip in thought. she couldn’t just leave him here to bleed out and die. she turned to seonghwa. “can you go tell yunho to call yeonjun and explain what happened?” she gently asked.

seonghwa immediately shook his head. “what if he attacks when i’m gone?” he whispered back, the same worried expression back on his face.

jiyu ruffled his hair. “i’ll be fine. you seem to forget where i work at,” she joked. “go, hwa. i can’t leave him to die out here.”

after a long hesitation, seonghwa gave a warning glare to the injured hybrid before going back to yunho. the hybrid let out another scoff. “are they your hybrids?” he asked, looking at the wolf and golden retriever hybrid as they frantically tried calling yeonjun.

jiyu slowly sat down on the ground, keeping a safe distance. “yes.”

“what’s your intentions with them?” he glared. “use them for money? or perhaps your own pleasures? or—”

“no.”

his eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at the woman’s firm tone. looking at her, her face was full of disgust and slight shock at the question.

“i’d never do that. they’re my family.”

“that’s what they all say,” he humorlously chuckled. “that’s what they all say to get us to fall into their little trap before they show their true colors.”

“not everyone’s the same,” she defended. “i don’t know what happened to you, but i can assure you i want nothing more than to just help you.”

he observed her. as determined and truthful as she seemed, he didn’t want to take another chance. he’s already been through so much, mentally and physically. he was tired. “stop wasting your time,” he weakly mumbled, leaning his head against the tree again. “just leave me be.”

a pained look flashed across jiyu’s face. to see a hybrid so easily give up on his life pierced her heart. however, it only motivated her more to help.

“jiyu! yeonjun’s sending a rescue team!” she heard yunho call out to her.

she wryly smiled to the hurt hybrid “as much as you want me to do that, i’m afraid i can’t. a rescue team’s already on their way.”

the hybrid’s eyes narrowed. “this could all be trap for all i know. you could be sending me back to where i came from,” he growled. he attempted to stand, but he fell right back down in pain. “just leave before you're gonna regret it.”

as threatening as he seemed, she knew he couldn’t do much due to his injuries. she stood up and dusted her pants. “look, you can believe whatever you want, but i swear on my life that i won’t harm you. i work at a hybrid recovery center, i just want to help. please?”

hearing her pleading tone, he looked up into her eyes. they were filled with nothing but earnest and desperation. why? why was she so insistent when they didn’t even know each other? what’s her motive?

he sighed. he’s survived up til then by relying on himself. he’s obeyed his owners for the sake of his own survival; never rebelled, never bit the hand that fed him. until enough was enough. he fought and ran away. humans were terrifying beings, they only cared for their own benefits and pleasures. so what was so different about her? he wouldn’t be lying if he said he didn't feel the slightest bit safe around her.

suddenly, he heard the sound of sirens and footsteps, making his ears stand in alert and his teeth sharpen. looking in the distance, he saw a group of men and the familiar hybrid ambulance. so she really did call a rescue team...

“so will you let me help you?” she gently asked, squatting down by him. “you’ll be safe, i promise.”

watching a yellow-haired man interact with the wolf and golden retriever hybrid a distance away, he was surprised. it was a normal interaction for anyone, but to him, it was a whole new concept. he’s only been shouted at his whole life.

he closed his eyes, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “very well.” he’s been through hell and back, he could take more if that was the case.

jiyu smiled before giving yeonjun and the rescue team the okay to slowly approach and take the injured hybrid. “ah, that’s right. i never got your name. i’m jiyu.”

he pursed his lips. seeing her happiness, he slightly lowered his guard. “hongjoong.”

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #ateez fluff #kim hongjoong #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #ateez hongjoong #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez

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comicsgirlimagines · 5 years ago

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Pandora Box - Dick Grayson Imagine

Prompt: When Nightwing is on the verge of life and death, your judgment is clouded as you push yourself beyond your limits. When the walls fall down, the Pandora box you worked so hard to seal, unlocks and reveals all of your darkest secrets.

Word Count: 3,585

Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of sex, self-harm, mentions of non-consent sex, death.

Inspiring Song: none.

A/N: I started writing it a few months ago and forgot about it, and now I finally finished it J, enjoy!

“NIGHTWING!!!” your agonized scream seemed to echo through the valley, your cries riding the wind.

Everything felt like someone pressed the slow-motion button from that terrorizing moment. You let out an energy pulse ring, sending the troops around you flying to different directions, before rushing to Nightwing’s side. You could feel his aura weakening with every passing moment. Putting a hand on his chest, you couldn’t feel his heart anymore.

“No!” your cries were shaky.

“I-I can’t hear his heartbeats” Conner stuttered, eyes wide in terror. No one, in a million years, would have ever thought that Nightwing, out of the whole team, would be the one to fall.

You shook your head, “I can still feel his aura” you said, tears streaming down your face, “He’s not dead, not yet” you sobbed, holding his gashing wound, crimson blood drenching your palms.

“Y/N, healing him might kill you in his state” Kaldur warned.

A shaky sob escaped your clenched throat as you spoke, “I don’t care, Kaldur. It’s better me than him!” your words were quick and your breath was ragged. Panic running through your body as you positioned your hands over his chest, “C’mon, c’mon” you rasped in frustration, trying to calm your mind and focus the healing energy on Nightwing’s deadly wound.

A bright blue glow shone through the palms of your hands as you felt the familiar draining sensation. Everyone was so fearful for your life while you feared one thing. Feeling the deepening connection between the minds of the two of you, your brutal nature to keep the walls you’ve worked so hard to build became a fear that was as strong as your desire to save Nightwing. Especially when you felt his mind creeping into yours.

Which was exactly what you feared the most.

Inhaling sharply, the healing energy kept flowing. It became harder and harder to push his mind away, and your personal Pandora box, that you worked so hard to keep locked away deep within you, opened. And the dark secrets you worked so hard to keep, found their way to the light.

“I just want to do good for once” you admitted to Black Canary, glad you finally had someone you could talk to, outside of the team, “my whole life, I was the one to blame. I was at fault my whole life” you continued, your voice is so bothered and broken in a way no one has ever seen before.

“I can only imagine what it has been for you, I could never say I understand you and your decisions along the way. But one thing I do understand, everything you did was your way to survive. And now? You get to do good deeds every single day. You should be proud!”

Your sobs echoed through the bathroom. You were standing in front of the mirror, trembling with fear at your decision. You looked down at the pregnancy test, and more tears started rolling down your face as shaky sobs kept escaping your lips. Your knuckles are white from the tight grip on the small knife, as your mind debated whether you should or not. “Th-the womb i-is located in a-a-a woman’s low-lower abdomen, be-between the bladder and the ret-cum” you stuttered between sobs, bringing the knife to the desired location.

When you woke-up in the hospital, you didn’t remember what you were doing there. “She is going back to the orphanage, I can’t deal with this burden anymore, I don’t care how much I’m being paid!” your foster ‘mother’, ranted into the phone, probably talking with one of her snobby friends.

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you feeling?” the doctor asked, looking at his papers.

You looked down at your almost completely healed wound, “I’m feeling fine” your voice was low and broken, “just tell me one thing,” you said, not daring to look at the doctor, but you took his silence as a sign to continue, “did the baby survive?” you asked coldly.

The doctor stayed quiet for a moment, “Unfortunately, it didn’t,” he said.

You looked at him, tears in your eyes as you mouthed, ‘thank you’, your voice giving out on you. As soon as the doctor left, tears of sorrow, yet relief, started falling down your cheeks. You let out a loud sigh of relief, even though the guilt flashed an image of your hands filled with the blood of the innocent.

When you sensed a mischievous aura in your bedroom, you immediately jolted awake. Noticing a tall figure in the dark, your hand flew to the lamp resting on your bedside, vanishing the darkness only to reveal Blake, your foster ‘brother’, standing with his eyes fixed on you in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“B-Blake! You scared me!” you shrank under his intense stare.

He smirked, “I’m sorry, just wanted to give my wishes to the birthday girl.” he walked over to you as he spoke.

You pressed yourself against the headboard, your covers clenched close to your body as he eyed you in an ominous way. “Thank you, Blake” you thanked, “I would like to go back to sleep now” the fear was audible on your voice.

He gave you another smirk, propping himself on your bed by your side, “But I still haven’t given you, my present, Y/N” his voice was dark. He turned on his side, his head resting on his hand, as his fingers were trying to slowly pull off your blanket.

You shook your head, “you don’t have to, really.” you stuttered, clenching onto your covers tightly.

“I insist,” he said, tagging on the covers, revealing your almost bare shoulder as he started planting open kisses.

“Blake, please, stop” you cried, trying to get out of your bed, but he caught your hand and pulled you back, before climbing on top of you, to prevent you from attempting another escape.

He grinned, “So innocent and childish, this present is perfect for you” he cooed in your ear, before trailing kisses further down your neck and body.

As you felt his hands traveling lower, you started to panic. “No! Let me go!” you cried, kneeing him in the groin. He groaned in pain, losing his hold on you. Taking advantage of your release, you jumped out of bed and ran to your bedroom door. “C’mon open up!” you cried, hitting your hand on the door harshly. “Please! HELP!” you cried, trying to pull on the door, but it was locked.

A thud of a hand on the door made you jump. You immediately turned around to face Blake’s fury, as your back pressed against the door, “you little bitch!” he growled.

“No, please” you begged, crying and whimpering in fear, “please stop, please” you pleaded.

“I was going to be gentle with you,” he whispered harshly into your ear, “But now? I guess you’ll just have to learn it in the hard way! And it’s all your fault!” he grabbed your wrists in a bruising grip as he dragged you back to your bed.

You tried to push him out of your mind, but at this point, it was out of your control completely. It’s too much, you have to let go! Once again, the logical part of your mind pushed you to let go, but you couldn’t. No! It’s still too risky, I have to keep going!

You gasped when all of a sudden you felt your skin getting hot. You winced as you felt the waves of energy moving under your skin, you looked down at your arms, the soothing light was shining beneath your skin as the healing energy tried to find a different breakthrough.

“Y/N! Stop it!” you heard Kaldur demanding.

“You are going to kill yourself!” M’gann cried out as well.

“Please stop!” Beast boy supported his older adoptive sister.

You couldn’t, not yet. Or else, everything will be in vain, his aura isn’t strong enough to recover on its own, and a hospital room, might be better, but still with chances slimming to none. You had to keep going.

You and your sister were singing along to the radio in perfect, ear piercing, harmony. You were on your way back from the zoo with so many great memories and some awesome pictures, you couldn’t wait to develop them.

“Did you have fun, girls?” your dad asked, looking at you through the mirror.

You gasped, “Daddy! Eyes on the road!” you demanded, the class you had in school turned all your red lights.

Your mom laughed, “She is right, eyes on the road, dear” she teased.

It started to pour, heavy rain causing the road to be slippery. Your father started to slow down and drive much more carefully than before, but it didn’t help. It happened so fast, honks and the sound of wheels slipping on the road filled your ears before you blacked out.

You were the only survivor – the miracle girl.

“I’ve never felt this way before, Artemis” you smiled excitedly. The flattering in your heart was too intense, you started blushing furiously. “I think I love him” you admitted.

You snapped. The healing process was too intense on your body. He hadn’t made a full recovery, he was still hurt, but far away from danger. Looking down, you smiled weakly. He is okay. Though your moment of bliss was cut short as you started feeling a sharp pain. You gasped at the sight of the open gushes all over your arms, you felt your body trembling violently before you were sent to the ground, your conscious slipping away.

You slowly opened your eyes, to see you were in the medical bay. Rolling your eyes, you pulled out the infusion and sat up on the medical bed.

“How are you feeling?” Kaldur asked. You could hear the disapproval in his voice.

You huffed a humorless chuckle, “how’s Nightwing?” you asked, examining the stitches on your arms.

“Alive” he replied shortly.

“Then that’s all I care” your tone was harsh.

“You could have died today, Y/N. you pushed yourself beyond your limits, your body was giving out on you.” even though the scolding, his voice was soft and full of concern.

You sighed, you could never stay cold with the way he speaks to you. “But I didn’t, Kaldur,” you said, jumping off the bed, “yes, I pushed my limits, and it was dangerous” you admitted, “but Nightwing’s death would’ve been much more devastating than mine, and we both know that.”

Kaldur shook his head, “we are not to decide whose life is more valuable.”

“You are right,” you agreed, “but at the end of the day, we both know I am right as well.” You argued, reaching for a bandage to wrap around your stitches.

“I just want to make sure your feelings towards Nightwing do not affect your judgment.” His words struck a chord in your heart. Of course, it did. And he knew that. “He won’t be happy to know you almost gave up your life to save his.” His hand rested gently on your shoulder. Your tense muscles relaxed almost immediately. Kaldur was always so soothing.

You looked down at your arms, the memories of your minds connecting haunting you. Exactly like you could see into his mind, he saw into yours. He saw you as this gentle and noble spirit, the girl who cared for the team greatly, a gentle girl who could kick some serious butts. But after looking into the darkest corners of your mind, you weren’t sure how he’s going to see you now. “Just make sure he stays away from me, okay?” your heart broke at these words.

“Do you wish to speak to someone? To rid you of your burden?”

You shook your head, “just make sure he stays away from me because if not, I might use different tactics to get as I wish” your voice was firm, yet shaky. You have done worse in order to survive.

You got as you wished. Nightwing had kept a safe distance from you most times. Every now and then he will try to spark a conversation, to talk about what happened, but you shut him down, telling him it’d be better to leave things as they are. He wasn’t happy about your decision, but then again, many people that know your story aren’t happy with your decisions.

It hurt you to have him so distanced from you, but after seeing into your mind, you couldn’t look at his masked eyes without feeling the shame, without feeling like you were completely naked in front of him.

“Great job team.” Nightwing complemented after debriefing, releasing the team. You were speaking and laughing with M’gann on your way out, thinking nothing of it, until you heard Nightwing’s voice, “Y/N, may I have a word with you?” he appeared in front of you two. He looked down at you, with an unreadable expression.

“I don’t believe it would be necessary.” You replied coldly, earning shocked looks from the members who heard the conversation.

He narrowed his eyes at you, “let me rephrase, then. Y/N, a word” he ordered.

Your jaw clenched tightly as you glared up at him. Not leaving much of a choice, you were forced to follow him. As soon as the doors to the therapy room were shut close, the intensity in the room skyrocketed. His eyes were fixed on you with an intense stare, making you feel more self-conscious and insecure than you already were around him.

“Just tell me why” he spoke after minutes of intense silence.

You scoffed, “mind being more specific?” you shot harshly, not daring to look at him.

“Let’s start with, why are you avoiding me?” he stepped closer, you could see from the corner of your eye how close he was. But what made you uneasy was his aura. This inviting aura that made you weak at the knees.

You sighed, “Because you know too much, Dick” your voice was low, as you called him by his given name for the first time. You made sure to let him know that whatever he saw into your mind, you could see into his too.

He huffed, “well, it seems like you know too much about me too, Y/N” he tried to put a gentle hand on your shoulder, to turn you to face him. But you flinched away.

You let out a humorless laugh, “it’s not the same” you shook your head, feeling the tears burning your eyes. “Your parents died, and then you were adopted by a rich man and decided to fight crime to, not only solve what really happened to your parents but to also help the Batman make Gotham city a safer place. You are a hero, Dick.” You concluded all the reasons you adored him even more now. He was such a good person, making the right decisions to benefit everyone. Everything you wished you could do someday. “But, me? Every choice I’ve ever made since the death of my parents was as selfish as it can be.” Finally gaining the courage, you turned to face him, tears threatening to fall, “I killed my unborn child, Dick. And when the doctor confirmed it was dead, I was relieved. I was happy it was dead. I let myself to be raped over and over again because I was too proud or scared to go back to the orphanage, I literally pimped myself to the foster family that never wanted me. I’m far from a hero, I am-“ you stopped, not finding any adjective that could cope with what you are, “I don’t deserve any type of sympathy or empathy I-I…” you kept stuttering, not knowing a word to describe what a monster you saw in the mirror.

“Is that why you were willing to die to save my life?” he questioned confused. He looked at you in disbelief. How could you see yourself in such a monstrous way?

You wiped away your tears as you let another humorless laugh slip between your lips. “My death wouldn’t have been as devastating as yours, Nightwing. The team wouldn’t be able to go on without you.” The thought of losing Nightwing pained you more than anything in the world. To think you might one day walk into the Grotto and see Nightwing’s hologram was too much to bear.

His fists clenched, and his aura was pounding with fury, it made you flinch backwards. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?! Do you really think so little of yourself?!” he raised his voice angrily, “the team would be devastated, I would be devastated if you didn’t survive and I did!”

“But I did!” you argued back.

He stayed quiet, staring at you as if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. He would’ve never guessed so much pain and darkness existed in a gentle, caring and noble spirit like yours. You looked so pure, you owned such a good heart, your smile could light up any room, and your soothing and carefree energy was what made you so loved by the other team members. It’s what made him want to be around you by all means in the first place, he was surprised you never really noticed it.

“Is the interrogation over? Am I free to leave?” you asked impatiently, after long moments of silence.

He just looked at you, not saying a single word. You rolled your eyes as you started making your way to the door, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. You stared down at his hand before looking up at his face, a slight frown on your face, trying to hide the delight of the tingling sensation his touch left on your skin.

“Just one more question,” he spoke, readjusting the sling around his neck. “When you told Artemis that you love him, who did you mean?” he asked, his eye narrow in suspicious, eying you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “what does that have to do with this conversation?” you yanked your hand out of his grip, crossing your arms angrily, “this is really private.” you added.

He grinned, “I think we skipped ‘private’.”

“Still, what does it have to do with… whatever this is?!” you were getting frustrated with him. This conversation made you feel really worked up.

The smirk on his face darkened as he faced you, inches away from you, “it has everything to do with this conversation.” Having him so close made your heart race, and the heat reached to your face. With every step he took forward, you took one backwards, trying to focus on anywhere else but his eyes beyond his mask, your mind creating a clear image of his beautiful blue eyes. You gasped when you stumbled backwards, but Dick caught you before you lost your balance. You looked down to see you had hit the green chair, before you looked back at Dick, only to realize your faces were close, so close that you could feel his breath on your lips. “Well?” that charming smug grin appeared on his face.

“This is none of your business, Nightwing” you insisted, looking innocently into the white lends.

His smirk made your knees go weak, you were glad you could lean back on the chair. “We passed that too.” he teased, his face is really close to yours. One little push will fulfill your biggest desire.

You rolled your eyes, “It sounds like you already know the answer. Why dancing around it?” you challenged. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned a bit closer, his taunting eyes not breaking away from yours.

“You’re right, not big fan of dancing anyways” he smugly replied, before his lips connected with yours in a hungry and passionate kiss.

This dancing around sure has given a sneak peek to what was about to come, but you were still caught off guard.

As soon as his lips touched yours, you felt like all the tight knots in your life slowly loosening. It was exciting to feel this fire of the burning passion so many people talk about. The way his soft lips kissed you in a way that took your breath away, with passion, love, lust, and relief. It was strange in a beautiful way. You could feel his tongue licking your bottom lip, asking for permission to explore, and you let him.

Though your lips disconnected sharply, as Dick flinched away in pain. “Did I hurt you?” you questioned worriedly, holding his casted arm gently.

You could feel his tender gaze, making you blush slightly, “I’ll be fine” he chuckled.

You nodded, standing up from the couch, “that was umm… nice.” You spoke awkwardly, looking away from his eyes knowing better than to let yourself swoon at his gaze, especially after the fresh delicious memories you now share. “We better get back to the team before they will get the wrong ide-“

“Let them.” His words followed by a light tug that drew you back right into his arms, once again drawing a hiss of pain as you collided into his casted arm.

“Stop doing that!” you hit his chest angrily.

He didn’t reply, he just captured your lips in another sweet and passionate kiss. He smiled into the kiss as he felt you deepening the kiss, wanting to feel more, while all you could think was how glad you were for the both of you to be alive.

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softeddiek · 5 years ago

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help, i can’t stop writing reddie fix-its featuring The Kissing Bridge ™

i got down on my knees (and i pretend to pray)

7.7k words | read on ao3

He’s not sure what possesses the words to leave his mouth. One minute all of the Losers are sitting around Eddie’s hospital bed, looks of sympathy and concern on their faces as Eddie rants his little heart out about his wife requesting a divorce and splitting up a shared bank account (“Do you know how much of a fucking nightmare this is going to be guys?”) and the next second, his tone has turned more somber as he begins questioning where he’ll live. Then all of the Losers—sans Eddie who is listing all of the terrible diseases that the homeless population are susceptible to—have turned their eyes to Richie, as if their minds have become some sort of weird fucking collective hive, all sending the same soft, prodding looks his way. It likely wouldn’t have even taken that much to get him to make the offer but fuck, they didn’t have to look at him like it was expected of him. Richie never had liked doing the expected.

So, with those four beady-eyed fuckers staring at him, his heart picks up to a thundering speed, and his voice says (of its own accord he insists), “God Eds, calm down. You can stay with me.”

Eddie’s words come to a halt and the other Losers all send him soft smiles. Not that he notices that last bit—he’s too busy taking in the way Eddie’s big, brown eyes are blinking at him, slowly at first and then more rapidly.

“Wait, what? You want me to stay with you?”

Richie shrugs, trying to act like this is way less of a deal than it is. Or maybe it isn’t as a big of a deal as his brain is telling him it is, because the others don’t look half as surprised that he had actually given in to their creepy as shit looks as Eddie does that he had even offered.

“Yeah I mean, I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’ve done pretty well for myself. Got a sweet bachelor pad near the beach that has an extra bedroom with your name on it.”

Eddie still looks unsure, teeth sinking into his lower lip as if debating the pros and cons. And something in Richie screams at him, tells him not to let Eddie say no.

But only because he’s a good friend who doesn’t want to see his friend become homeless while treating a nasty chest wound.

“Come on Eds, it’ll be like a sleepover! Like old times.” And then, because he thinks it’s probably weird to bring that up as if it hasn’t been literally decades since he and Eddie had had a sleepover, “Only this time you won’t have to call your mom to pick you up because you think you’re having an allergic reaction to the pizza we ate.”

Eddie’s face is turning red, a scowl crossing it. “That was one time, Trashmouth.” And the sudden tight feeling that had been making a home within Richie’s chest since he had made the offer abates a little, whatever the fuck that’s about, because this is normal. Richie says something to rile Eddie up and it works. Eddie takes the bait, rags on Richie, and they move on. What isn’t normal is that tight feeling—the same one he’d had when he saw Eddie again at that restaurant; the one that he had had again when he’d seen Eddie—still as small as ever—laid up in his hospital bed, cheek stitched up and chest bandaged; the same one that, if he really thought hard about it, he could trace back to having felt as far back as the age of 13, when Eddie was being attacked by It in the house on Neibolt Street, terror in his eyes. He tells himself, over and over again, that that feeling is concern—fear over losing his friend. He’s concerned over Eddie’s wellbeing; doesn’t want him to be homeless, or shish kabobbed through the chest, or have a broken arm. And that is normal, he knows it is—why would he want that to happen to any of his friends?

Only he knows he doesn’t get that tight feeling in his chest about Bill or Bev or any of the other Losers. He knows it doesn’t just come along when Eddie is in danger either. But he’d rather not think about all of the moments that have caused that feeling—moments spanning years—so he tells himself over and over to stop it; contradicts his thoughts—one moment it’s normal, genuine concern, the next it’s a problem so cut it out.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks Richie,” Eddie says softly. His eyes are trained on Richie’s and Richie swears his heart skips a beat. Before he can think too much on that though, Eddie glances around at their friends, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink—he’s probably seeing those weird stares they’ve been sending Richie’s way—and adds in a more normal tone, “I mean, I’ll need to be careful. I don’t want to get an infection and I’m sure your place is like one big infectious dumpster.”

Richie sends him a toothy grin. “Don’t worry Eddie baby, I’ll clean up all my trash and make it nice and neat just for you.”

Eddie just rolls his eyes in response before asking Bev to help make him a to-do list. As she drags a chair up to Eddie’s hospital bed (across from the one that Richie had claimed as soon as Eddie was moved from the ICU) helping him figure out what he needs his wife to send to him to California and who to call about transferring his prescriptions, Richie feels a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

He looks around at the other Losers—Mike and Bill and Ben—to see them all settling around the room and into the other chairs that they’d somehow managed to convince Eddie’s nurse to let them clutter the room with.

Richie had rarely left Eddie’s side since he’d been allowed visitors and he and the others had spent the first few nights and days out in the waiting room while Eddie was in surgery and immediately following when he was in the ICU and they couldn’t see him. They’d taken turns leaving to go get food and shower, but that had only been after they’d all spoken to his doctor at length and, in Richie’s case, been assured and reassured that he would make a full recovery. To say he had reeked those first few days would be an understatement, but it’s not like Eds had smelled much better.

They’ll likely be there awhile, waiting on Eddie’s doctor for an update on when he can be discharged and what his recovery time will be like, so he offers to make a run down to the hospital cafeteria for coffee for everyone (“Not you Eds. You don’t need the caffeine even on a good day.”)

He’s just made it out of the hall, stained sneakers squeaking against the shiny, lemon-scented floor, muttering everyone’s coffee orders under his breath so he doesn’t forget them, when he hears Bill call out his name.

“Richie, wait up!”

He stops, waiting for Bill to come up beside him before continuing onward.

“What’s up man, too stuffy in there for you?”

“N-n-no. Just thought I’d t-tag along.”

Richie notices Bill’s stutter has been getting better over the last few days, but it’s still there and might not go away until they leave Derry again. Apparently he’d gone and forgotten he even had one after he left Derry. Richie doesn’t know how you go and forget something as big as having a stutter when you speak, but then again, they had all forgotten each other, which was a pretty big deal.

You forgot other things, a small voice in him whispers, but he shakes it off, puts a stopper in that line of thought, and instead focuses on Bill’s words.

“…and my plane t-t-t-ticket is booked too. I’m g-guessing you and Eddie will book yours together? The d-doctor will probably wait to okay him to f-f-fly.”

“Uh, yeah, we’ll be going together I’m guessing. He’s pretty damn crippled right now so I don’t think he’ll be going off on his own for a while.”

Richie presses the down button on the elevator and looks over at Bill, sees that weird, soft look on his face again.

“What man?”

“I j-just think it’s really g-great that you’re being so supportive of Eddie right n-now.”

Richie frowns. “What do you mean?”

Bill shuffles his feet a bit, tilting his head in thought. “You know,” he shrugs, “you’ve b-been at his bedside constantly, getting him f-f-food and drinks. Really listening when the d-doctor and nurses go over his condition. L-l-l-letting him stay with you.”

Richie’s frown deepens when Bill finishes. He’s about to say something, but they’re interrupted by the ding of the elevator, stepping apart as people get off on the floor and walk in between them.

When they’ve both stepped into the now empty elevator, Bill pressing the button for the second floor where the cafeteria is, “I’m just being a good friend Bill. You all would do the same.”

Bill must catch the irritation in his voice, because he looks over, startled. “Well, y-yeah, I mean, we a-a-all want to help Eddie, but it’s…”

Now he can hear the irritation in his tone, not just feel it, when he says, “It’s what?” He doesn’t know why he’s letting himself get so worked up over this. Maybe he’s just a better friend to Eddie than the rest, but what does that matter?

“It’s d-different between you t-two. Always h-h-has been, ever since w-we were kids. I’m surprised it’s l-lasted this l-long though.” Bill doesn’t seem like he’s going to offer any more than that, pulling out his phone after he’s done speaking and sending a text, looking like he hasn’t a care in the world. Like his words haven’t just shaken Richie.

“Bill. What the fuck do you mean?”

Bill turns quickly toward him at his outburst.

“I mean, Eddie and I…we...he’s one of my best friends. Nothing’s…different or whatever shit you’re talking about. He got hurt, I helped him at the hospital, now I’m letting him crash at my place. I don’t see how that’s a big deal or, or why you guys keep giving me those looks.” Suddenly he feels like he’s the one that needs an inhaler, not Eddie. Richie doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or Bill, but his rant rings false to his own ears. When he sees the look on Bill’s face though, again, “That! That look right there! What the fuck Bill, cut that shit out, what is that even about?”

Bill just stares at him, those eyes of his looking as though they know something he doesn’t. Like they know something about Richie that he hasn’t yet figured out. The elevator lets out another high-pitched ding, signaling that they’ve reached their floor, but Richie’s hand darts out and slams against the ‘close door’ button.

Bill lets out a sigh. “Richie, what do y-you remember from that night? After Pennywise I m-m-mean?”

Richie’s forehead furrows in confusion. “What?”

“A-after we ran back to Eddie. What h-happened next?”

Richie clenches his jaw, forces himself to swallow before speaking. “I—I mean we, we found him. We carried him out, got him to the hospital. He went into surgery and we stayed here.” His jaw twitches, thinking about the state Eddie had been in. The blood that covered his chest and Richie’s hands as he applied pressure to it. The bandage across his cheek covered in blood and dirt. The dried flecks of blood in his hair. Blood everywhere, so much that Richie can still smell it when he thinks of it. He hadn’t properly washed it off of himself until the next day, waiting to see how Eddie’s surgery had gone. Even then, the first time he had scrubbed at it had been in the hospital sink, remnants of it from his arms staining the white porcelain pink. It had taken another two days for his friends to convince him to head back to the room he was renting and take a proper shower instead of just changing into clothes they had brought him, and even that hadn’t happened until they’d told him that Eddie would have a fit at seeing Richie in his room looking like he’d been Carrie’d when he woke up.

“Richie,” Bill says. He’s no longer sending him that look that he and the Losers had somehow managed to simultaneously project at him. No, his face now wears a look of sympathy. “You don’t remember? You were hysterical.”

Richie struggles for words. “No, I…no I helped I was…I was running on adrenaline and I…I helped Ben get him in the car.”

Truthfully, the memory is spotty. He remembers the blood; remembers the roof coming down on them. Eddie in the back seat with him, slumped against it while Richie applied pressure, feeling like Eddie’s actual fucking life was pouring out of him and onto Richie’s hands with every new drop of blood. If Bill says he was hysterical though…

“He was fucking dying Bill. How else was I meant to be reacting?”

The door opens again, still on the second floor, only now there are people standing outside the doors, looking between Richie and Bill, unsure of whether they should get on or not.

No longer wanting to talk about this, “Just head back up, I’ll get the coffees.”

Bill calls out his name but makes no move to follow after him.

Richie doesn’t speak to Bill for the rest of the day. It’s not exactly difficult to get away with. With the four of them spending the day in Eddie’s room, he doesn’t think anyone notices the way he never exactly addresses Bill and Bill alone. It’s easy to ignore the hurt look on Bill’s face when he remembers the sympathetic look in his eyes when he’d stared at Richie in the elevator. That confusing look of pity that left Richie feeling left out of the loop.

The other Losers begin preparing to leave around 8. Visiting hours end at 9, but Ben is leaving tomorrow afternoon and they’re going to help him pack up. Richie says his goodbye to Ben in Eddie’s room, not exactly up for any sort of celebratory sendoff. Besides, Eddie doesn’t like being in the hospital all by himself, so Richie wants to keep him company as long as he can. After multiple promises to Ben to pick up the phone every once-in-a-while and to keep him updated on Eddie’s recovery, the four of them finally head out, leaving just Eddie and Richie in the room.

They play with cards for the first half hour or so—some weird game that is explained in the instruction packet inside the overpriced deck he’d found in the hospital gift shop. Who the fuck puts instructions in a pack of playing cards?

Eddie starts tiring after two games. He’d always been a bundle of live-wired energy but now his body needs all of the sleep it can get. So, Richie packs up the cards, to Eddie’s feeble protests, and flicks off the bright fluorescent lights. There’s still cracks of light hitting the floor that are coming in past the blinds of the window that face the hallway outside of Eddie’s room, but it’s still relatively dark in the room. He settles back into his well-worn seat at Eddie’s side.

“Are you going to try to convince the nurse on shift tonight to let you sleep here again?” Eddie asks. His tone is casual, but Richie knows he’s actually concerned. He knows Eddie’s been prone to waking up from nightmares of that night—not unlike the rest of them, only Richie’s sure the fact that he actually got stabbed makes it a little fucking worse. Having someone here makes it a little easier for him to come back to reality upon waking up and, thankfully, most of Eddie’s nurses had been fine with breaking the rules and letting one of them stay with him at night. That person just happened to have been Richie almost every time.

Richie sends him a smirk. “Sure am. Old Doris can’t resist my wily good looks.”

Eddie lets out a snort. “It’s your good looks, right. Definitely not all of the ass-kissing you do.”

“I’ll have you know, Eds, these lips have only kissed one ass.” A beat passes. “Your mother’s.”

“Fuck off dude, that’s so disrespectful.”

“What can I say, my heart yearns for Mrs. K even after all of these years.”

Eddie shakes his head, shifting his body to get comfortable, a minor wince of pain crossing his face as he does so. Richie knows this means his fatigue is winning out and so he stretches out himself, trying to adjust properly in the seat so his ass doesn’t go numb within the first hour tonight.

Richie’s just staring at the sheets on Eddie’s bed, zoning out a bit, when he realizes Eddie has gone quiet, no longer rustling around his blankets. He looks over at him, squinting in the darkness to see if Eddie has fallen asleep already. Instead he finds eyes on him. His face heats. Before he can even think of cracking a joke, Eddie’s voice breaks the silence, so soft that Richie’s surprised he even registers it over the constant hum of machines they have him hooked up to.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you Rich.”

His throat suddenly feels dry, so he clears it before saying, “Yeah, no, of course. That’s what friends are for.”

Eddie nods absentmindedly and Richie thinks the topic has finally died; Bill has said something—something for all of the other Losers he’s guessing—and now Eddie himself has mentioned it. So, it’s done right? Eddie is staying with Richie. Richie is a nice friend. The end.

Only, “Do you worry? About forgetting, I mean?”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon, right? Since Ben’s leaving tomorrow. If he doesn’t call Bev incessantly then we’ll for sure know something’s wrong,” he jokes. It falls flat.

Eddie is shaking his head. “No, I know that. But are you worried?”

Richie doesn’t say anything. Of course, he’s worried. He’s already forgotten once. Forgotten about Bill, one of the first friends he’d ever had that made him truly feel welcome; who liked him despite all of the stupid shit he said. Forgotten about Stan; dependable, understanding Stan. He could end up forgetting Stan had died, how fucked up would that be? He’d forget Mike and his patience, Ben and his kindness, Bev and her fire. And forgetting Eddie…

“I mean, I know we’ll be with each other but what if…what if we forget who each other is?”

Before he can stop himself, “That’d be pretty funny. I’d be all like ‘Who the fuck are you and why are you in my shower?’”

“Richie.” He thinks Eddie is going for stern but his voice cracks on the second syllable and Richie’s heart feels like it’s fucking breaking because why did he have to make a joke about this? Of course he’s worried—he’d be fucking devastated if he forgot Eddie all over again but to have it happen like that would be beyond fucked up.

He can hear Eddie taking shaky breaths from his bed and doesn’t hesitate to reach out, his hand beginning to rub soothing patterns up and down Eddie’s arm.

“Hey, Eddie, that wasn’t the time, I’m sorry, you’re right. But I could never forget you, Eds,” he adds, trying to comfort Eddie because he’s almost positive the sniffling he now hears coming from Eddie is because he’s crying a bit. There’s a pause while Eddie takes in what he’s said and tries to get his breathing under control.

“You already did,” is his wet reply.

Richie stills before saying, “You’re right. I did. We all did. And who the fuck knows why; if it was Pennywise, or this town, or...So, yeah, I am worried.” He exhales. “I’m fucking terrified. It feels like…like when you’re on a rollercoaster and you’re climbing up before a drop. And you hear everything rattling and the anxious sounds other people are making and then…then there’s the split second where the cart hesitates and you’re just sitting. That’s what it feels like. That pit you feel in your stomach right before the drop where you don’t know if you’re going to scream or piss yourself. While you wait for what’s going to happen, to happen.”

It’s silent and Richie’s heart is pounding, his cheeks reddening again as he thinks about how much stupid shit he’s just admitted. His hand ceases its movements and is leaving Eddie’s arm when a smaller hand darts out and snatches it—Eddie’s holding it back up against its previous spot.

He must sense Richie’s embarrassment. “I’ve never ridden on a rollercoaster,” comes Eddie’s voice in the darkness, a careful lilt to the thick tone of it that lets Richie know he was crying. “They’re pretty dangerous.”

Richie chuckles, beginning to rub small circles on Eddie’s arm, while Eddie’s own hand stays gripped around his. “We’ll get you on one Eds, as soon as you’re all healed up. We’ll spend a day at Disneyland or something.”

He lets Eddie move onto the topic about all of the people that visit theme parks each year and how many germs they’d be coming into contact with just by walking through the gates, smiling to himself as Eddie’s voice gets quieter and quieter until all that’s coming from him are tiny snores.

He’s up for at least another hour, staring at Eddie’s hand still loosely wrapped around his own while that tight feeling in his chest and the one in his stomach he described to Eddie go at war with each other.

They don’t talk about that night, but they both share looks of relief when Ben first called them and when he continued calling every day. These looks grow less frequent when Bev and Bill and even Mike leave Derry and they call as well with no signs that they’re losing any recognition of what happened or of each other.

(Richie especially doesn’t mention how they’d both woken up the morning after still holding hands. He tries not to even think about it.)

Eddie is released from the hospital a week and a half after Mike leaves. Richie booked them seats on an afternoon flight into LAX for the day after that so Eddie would have time to adjust to being out of the hospital before being immediately thrown onto a plane. Richie has been racking up a considerable bill at the inn, but that’s why he became a comedian, right? To spend his cash on shitty rooms in even shittier towns.

He’s driving them there right now in the car he’d rented when he first flew back into Maine, while Eddie’s voice is going a mile a minute.

“And you’ve called the rental place about returning the car at the airport?”

“For the hundredth time, yes.”

“Okay and are you sure the airline was telling the truth when they said there won’t be any animals near us on the flight? Because you know how my allergies—”

“Eds, for the love of God, calm down.” Richie frowns. “And you aren’t allergic to any animals, you know that.”

“Okay but one time, when Myra and I were on vacation, the couple staying next to us had brought along their dog—some ugly pug/yorkie hybrid—and I couldn’t stop sneezing the day we got back home.”

“Eddie that makes no sense.” He sighs at Eddie’s raised eyebrow. “But yes, I’m sure there will be no dogs, cats, or other animals near us that will have you sneezing two weeks later in California.”

They pull up to the inn, Richie carrying all of the stuff Eddie had somehow managed to acquire from the hospital—mostly gauze but he had somehow swindled them out of some sanitizing wipes too (“They have plenty of this shit, trust me.”)—along with the bag of things Bev had packed up and brought for him during his hospital stay.

“Bev got all of your stuff out of your room before checking out for you, so whatever she didn’t bring to the hospital is in my room. I’m sure we can just,” he hefts the bags up higher on his shoulders as he props opens the door for a slow-moving Eddie, “ask them to give you the same room or something if you want.”

Eddie walks in, taking in the lobby again as if it was new and he hadn’t just been staying here. There’s nobody at the front desk, and Richie takes a little glee in the fact that he’ll be able to ring incessantly on the bell until someone shows up.

Just as he’s setting their things down on the ground and heading toward it though, Eddie says, “That’s okay, we can just share.”

Richie looks at him in surprise. “You don’t want your own room?”

Eddie shrugs, scuffing his right foot on the shiny linoleum floors. “It’s just one night. Besides, I should probably be near you just in case.” Just in case of what he doesn’t clarify, and Richie doesn’t ask.

He must still look skeptical because Eddie tacks on, “C’mon Rich, it’ll be a sleepover, like old times.” Richie’s lip twitches as Eddie repeats his own words, a daring smirk on his lips that Richie realizes he’s been staring at way longer than he should be.

Shaking himself out of it, “Uh, yeah okay.” He picks everything up again and Eddie begins to follow him upstairs. “But just because you’re injured, doesn’t mean I’ll let you hog the covers.”

He hears a snort behind them. “Please, you’re the cover-hog Tozier, with your gangly limbs.”

He unceremoniously drops Eddie’s things on the bed when they enter. The chair in Eddie’s hospital room had been pretty damn uncomfortable, he’d known that, but he hadn’t realized just how much damage it had done to his back the past few weeks until now as he stares at the plush mattress and fluffy pillows. He falls down on it, face-first, forgetting everything except the way the cool covers feel under his cheek.

“Rich. Richie. Riiiichie,” Eddie whines. The bed dips down under his weight as he sits on it.

“Hmmph?” he grunts out.

“I’m hungry.”

His voice is still muffled by the fabric of his comforter when he says, “You couldn’t have said that while we were still out?”

“Okay but I wasn’t hungry then. I’ve been eating shitty hospital food and whatever fast food you could smuggle me in for weeks, I need real food.”

Richie lifts his head up, turning to look at where Eddie is staring down at him. He blinks at him lazily. “Aren’t you meant to be taking care of me?” Eddie asks, eyes wide like he’s a damn puppy or something, which really shouldn’t work but…

It’s that look that has him pulling out from the inn 10 minutes later. He’d gotten Eddie to lay down in bed, only slightly jealous when he’d commented on how much more comfortable the bed in the room is than the one he’d been sleeping in at the hospital.

They’d looked on his phone for somewhere they could call and pick up food from, finally landing on a diner that Richie doesn’t remember being in Derry growing up. It’s only a ten-minute drive away, so he should be back to Eddie and that sweet, sweet bed with their burgers and fries in hand in no time.

He hums along to the radio on the drive over, taking in more parts of the town that had changed since he’d moved away. While Derry has become more modern over time, it still holds a strange, ethereal quality to it, like it would always be a small town from the ‘80s. A song he vaguely remembers liking when he was younger comes on the radio and he sings along off-key, trying out different impressions while he does so. That reminds him that he needs to give his agent a call when he lands back in California. He hadn’t been too pleased when Richie had taken off for Derry after bombing a show, and he had been even less happy when Richie had called a few days later to tell him to cancel his upcoming shows because he would be in Maine, of all places, for a while.

He pulls up to the diner before he knows it, cutting the ignition and hopping out of the car. It’s not too busy, which shouldn’t be a surprise because it’s not exactly time for the dinner rush, but Richie also guesses that this place doesn’t get too much attention anyway. Google had told them that they had good burgers though and Eddie was dying for something that wasn’t from a McDonald’s or a Wendy’s but also wasn’t up for actually going out to eat.

He walks up to the diner, grimacing at the annoying bell that rings out when he opens the door. He can hear music playing in the background and sees a few customers—mostly older—at the counter and some in booths.

The inside of the diner just so happens to be ‘80s themed and transports him back to old-Derry; how it was when he was a kid, which in turn reminds him of It (as if he hadn’t seen enough of that bastard recently) and Bowers and just the general shittiness of growing up here. He pays for their food quickly and takes off, bag of food and drinks in hand, door closing behind him before the teenager that had given his stuff to him could so much as offer him the receipt.

It’s not like he hadn’t been reliving all of his childhood trauma recently. It’s just that, with Eddie being in the hospital, Richie just hadn’t had the emotional capacity to fully process what had happened over those first days they had been back. To process the flood of memories that had come back with It. His mind was way too busy freaking the fuck out about Eddie and what had happened with him to be worrying about any lingering scars from the bullying he’d received here. Sure, he remembers the arcade and the Bunyan statue and what had happened down in It’s lair—Eddie had almost died, how could he forget that? And yeah, Pennywise had used his own memories to torment him, but it hadn’t exactly hit him. The rollercoaster hadn’t dropped; he’d been stuck in that state of hesitation, fearful of what came next. What came with knowing.

But now he’s driving away from that diner with fucking Listen to Your Heart of all things stuck in his head thanks to the jukebox that had been playing in the corner, and he can’t help it, he starts laughing hysterically, tears building up. When did his life become as cliché as a John Hughes movie?

The rollercoaster has suddenly dropped, and Richie feels sick to his stomach, has to pull off to the shoulder of the road and wrench the door open, take in gulps of fresh air before he’s literally sick. He takes several deep breaths, thinking back to techniques the Losers had used to calm Eddie down as kids when he’d gotten himself too worked up. He counts to ten again and again, lets his fingers tap out in time against his leg. When his breathing is finally under control he wipes furiously at his eyes; at the wetness that had gathered there, streaking down his face.

He’d been facing the side of the road, looking out at the trees, while having his little break down, so he needs to turn back to get back into the car. He starts doing just that, hand fiddling with the handle of the door that he must have slammed shut in his panicked state, when he stops short. Ahead of him, just short of where he’d pulled over, the road changes. It turns into a bridge. A familiar bridge.

Richie doesn’t need a refresher on this. He’d just relived the memory a few weeks ago.

He’s nowhere near the inn. In fact, the inn is in the opposite direction. He should have turned left when leaving the diner; to get here he would have had to turn right.

Part of him thinks It’s back; that they didn’t actually defeat It. He’s stuck in the deadlights and this is the next step in his torment.

But the other part of him knows he isn’t. That his own subconscious had taken him here; that he was shoving his fear right in his own face.

His hand drops from the door handle and hangs limply at his side. He takes a nervous gulp, his steps tentative as he begins to move. When he takes the first step onto the bridge, he pauses. What he’s expecting to happen, he doesn’t know, but nothing does. The birds in the air keep chirping, the trees keep swaying, and the road is blessedly empty of any other cars.

It’s almost like he’s having an out-of-body experience, that’s how much his ears focus on the sounds around him. It must be that that gives him the courage to keep moving forward on his fucking Bambi legs.

He stares forward the whole time, counts the steps in his head until he stops where he knows he needs to. He looks down at his feet instead of to his right, pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose when they begin to slip.

Turn, Richie. Fucking turn, a voice tell him. The same voice that’s been a quiet presence within him for decades. A voice he’s tried to shut up.

For once, he does as it asks.

What he sees shouldn’t surprise him. It shouldn’t surprise him because, even though he’d forgotten Derry, forgotten all of his childhood friends, forgotten Eddie, there’d still been things—small things—in his life that he now knows were reminders. Vestiges of the life he’d forgotten. It shouldn’t be a surprise because he knows now that when he’d stopped short at the sight of warm brown eyes all of his life post-Derry, it was because he’d known warm brown eyes like that. Or when he heard someone calling out his name, “Richie” or even “Rich”, it sounded wrong; like it belonged on someone else’s lips. Why he looked for curling hair and sly smiles, bubbling laughs and small statures, in all of the people that managed to catch his attention. He didn’t know it then, but he’d been looking for pieces of Eddie everywhere, in everyone.

So, it shouldn’t surprise him, but a sob still escapes him anyway as he catches sight of the R+E sloppily carved into the wooden planks of that bridge. Had he even stopped to think about it when everything had flashed back to him those short weeks ago? He remembers reliving it when finding his token; he’d remembered Bowers and his cousin and all of the names that had followed him. Remembered the shaking yet determined hand that had held the pocketknife as he’d pressed the blade firmly into the wood grains. But now, seeing it in front of his eyes, the memory is much stronger than it had been when he’d only been picturing it in his mind. Much harsher.

He drops down to his knees in front of it, a tentative hand reaching forward to trace over the lines. They’re dull and faded now. He can remember how they’d looked fresh, clear as day. Remembers the reverence with which he’d stared at them, a thrill coursing through him alongside his fear once he’d realized what he’d done.

He sits there, knees pressed into the dirt and crumbling asphalt, finger tracing continuously over the lines of the R and then the E, R and then the E, R and then the E, again and again. He thinks about Derry—the one that the diner had reminded him of. A town filled with hate and fear—festering with so much of it, that Pennywise had managed to sustain himself and continue the cycle. He knows now that this hate isn’t exclusive to Derry; not just there because some alien clown brought it with him from space. No, Richie had moved on from Derry, moved on from Maine. He’d moved to fucking California, travelled all across the country on tour. He knows there’s hate everywhere. The same kind of hate that had permeated Derry. The kind that causes kids like Bowers’ cousin to call guys like him fairies. The kind that had fueled the types of guys that had tormented the Losers growing up. There’s hate of all kinds.

He starts thinking then of going to church as a kid. How’d they’d preached about sins and how sins make you dirty and only by repenting through prayer could you be clean again. He’d never paid much attention when he’d been brought to church, way too tired and bored and disillusioned to care much, but the part about being clean had reminded him of Eddie. All of the Losers knew Mrs. K was certifiable; that she smothered Eddie. Only later had they learned from him how fake it had all been. But anyway, whenever they went on about being gay or adultery or drinking or whatever it was they had chosen that day, they then would present the solution; how to clean yourself. And Richie would think about Eddie; how he liked to be clean, with his sanitizing sprays and wipes, his bandages and his annual flu shots.

He remembers once when it was just him and Eddie at the quarry on a Sunday afternoon, about a year before that summer, when all of the Losers had formed. They were waiting for Bill and Stan to show up, just laying out in the sun and lazily talking about nothing. For some reason, Richie had mentioned it. The part the preacher had said about being clean. Maybe he made a joke of it, he can’t really remember, but Eddie had frowned, stared hard at Richie, and said, “It’s not the same thing.”

“Whatddya mean, Eds?”

“I mean, they’re not talking about a germ in church. They’re talking about like, your soul and shit.”

“So, you’re saying I can’t just grab some sanitizer and clean away all of the sinning I’ve done by fucking your mom?”

Eddie had done what he’d always done then, pulled a disgusted face and told Richie off. But then he’d gone quiet. Richie was too busy watching the clouds to really notice, wondering what was taking Bill and Stan so long, when Eddie spoke up again.

“My mom says…she says men lying with other men is more than a sin. She says it’s…” he had stopped for a minute, eyes trained on the ground. “Well, if it was a germ, she’d say it was too big to be cleaned. She says it spreads.” Eddie had chewed at his lip, looking out over the quarry even when Richie had propped himself up on his elbows and tried to catch his eye. Stan had shown up shortly after that and then Bill, so the conversation hadn’t continued or even been brought up again.

But Richie hadn’t forgotten what Eddie had said while he’d lived in Derry and he hadn’t forgotten what they’d said in church—that had stayed with him long after he’d left the town, building upon every slur that had been thrown his way; added on top of every bit of hate and fear that he’d seen and experienced since he’d moved away. He had carried it with him all of these years right back into Derry.

No, Richie had never carried any good memories of church with him.

Except. Well, except for the time he’d gone to Stan’s bar mitzvah. He’d mostly zoned out when Stan was reading the Torah—a jumbled mess of what he’d been trying to practice for weeks. Richie didn’t really blame him for the mistakes, it had been a pretty fucked up summer.

But Stan’s butchered Hebrew wasn’t Richie’s single shining church moment. No, it was what Stan had done after. He’s not even really sure it counts, since it wasn’t an actual service, but he can see, clear as day, the surge of courage hit Stan as he’d dodged his father, microphone in hand, and sworn in front of everyone. Richie had clapped then and wished, despite his mother’s strong grip yanking his hands down and apart, that he could have as much courage as Stan in that moment. Not the courage to face an evil clown or the courage to swear in front of adults—he did that plenty. No, the courage to just face his own truths and be unapologetically himself for a moment.

It’s twenty-seven years later, but he thinks maybe right now, crouched down in front of this bridge, facing truths that he’s hidden from his whole life, that maybe he’s being as brave as Stan was that day.

His fingertip feels nearly numb, no sensation truly reaching it after it’s traced and retraced the same spots over and over again. He stops, bringing his hands down to clasp each other. He chuckles grimly to himself, managing to see the humor in the fact that he’s kneeling down almost as if in prayer.

He sucks in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, even though he isn’t about to actually speak.

Your name is Richie Tozier. You’re forty-years-old. Another breath, this one quicker. You love Eddie Kaspbrak.

And then,

Your name is Richie Tozier, you’re forty-years-old and you are in love Eddie Kaspbrak. You have been for decades.

And then,

Your name is Richie Tozier, you’ve been in love with Eddie Kaspbrak for years. You like men.

And then finally,

“You like men,” he says out loud.

Suddenly he’s no longer just on his knees, but leaning forward, hand pressing down into the ground, pieces of asphalt digging into skin while his vision swims.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but eventually he feels steady again and shifts back up, brings himself to his feet, and rubs his sweaty, dirty hands onto his jeans. He repeats it all in his head, over and over again, as if it’s all some new discovery and not just something he’s been repressing for ages.

He feels a laugh bubble out of him, so different from the hysterical one that he’d produced on the drive over here. That tight feeling—the one he’d been feeling so acutely since his return to Derry, more so than he had before coming back, before seeing Eddie—has lessened and Richie feels a relief he doesn’t think he’s felt for most of his life, at least not since he was young and had begun feeling a heightened sense of awareness when Eddie was around, nerves in his stomach that he confused with being sick.

The birds are still chirping around him, the breeze has picked up only slightly, and there are still no cars on the road. The sun is still shining, albeit a bit lower in the sky, and Richie has realized that the world had not ended with his confession. He hadn’t doomed himself by finally coming to terms with his sexuality. The world would keep turning and he would continue to be in love with Eddie. Only now he doesn’t feel quite so sick thinking about it. Isn’t trying his hardest to hide it from himself.

And sure, it’s not like he’s ready to scream his love for Eddie from the rooftops—and especially not in Derry of all fucking places—but he begins to feel just a little more hope than before. 2016 is not 1989, that’s for damn sure. And, well, his friends are Losers, just like him. He’s not tripping over himself to call them up or tell them but, after everything they’d been through, he still had them. The Richie of today is not the same as thirteen-year-old Richie, absolutely terrified that his friends would be disgusted by him for the thoughts he had of Eddie. For wanting to hold Eddie’s hand and mean it, for Eddie to know that he wasn’t joking around when he cuddled onto him. To kiss Eddie.

And Eddie…well, he’d get cross that bridge eventually. He’s only just fully admitted he was in love with the guy to himself, it wasn’t quite the time for some big love declaration. But at least now he wouldn’t be in a constant state of cognitive dissonance living with Eddie when he knows that his feelings are bound to rear up inside him.

He looks out at the horizon one last time and wonders exactly how long he’s been here. If the food is cold, he’ll just tell Eddie that the wait was longer than expected. But now, he really should be getting back.

Richie looks at the carved letters one last time before heading back to the driver’s side door of the car, feels the same thrill he did when he first carved them twenty-seven years ago but, to his relief, no longer feels the same intense self-loathing and fear he did then.

As he’s buckling up, about to put the car in drive, Stan’s speech comes back to him in more detail. He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he thinks on what thirteen-year-old Stanley Uris had to say about being an adult: that it’s about learning to not give a shit. He drives away from the bridge, back to Eddie and their room at the inn, hoping he’s proved Stanley just a little bit right by accepting his truth and deciding not to give a shit; to not let his fear rule him.

#reddie #reddie fic #reddie fanfic #my fic

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Blow By Blow ch.6 (baon)

Summary: Set the day after ‘With Brotherly LV’. Jeff is having his first day working at the Embassy, Stretch is having a bad anxiety day, Red is having a bad text day, and Edge is just having a day.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, LV Issues, Brother issues

Notes: My timeline is getting a little wonky due to a few drabble sets and shorts. So this chapter directly follows With Brotherly LV

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

~~*~~

Read Chapter 6 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Much as Edge enjoying the feel of Stretch sleeping in his arms, breathing soft and even in the same rhythm as the pulse of his soul, the entertainment value eventually waned. Especially in the middle of the day. Gently, and with no few teasing kisses, he nudged Stretch awake and helped him totter to his feet, watching closely as he made his fumbling way upstairs.

Stretch’s clothes had taken the brunt of their earlier play and Edge gathered them from where they’d fallen, grimacing at their state. They’d already been suitable for the dustbin even before, but he would add them to the laundry. Their service in keeping his own clothing free of stains was a worthy sacrifice.

When Stretch came back downstairs, he was dressed in the spoils of raiding Edge’s side of the closet, down to his socks and even a plain t-shirt, something he rarely did. Not that Edge was going to complain; if Stretch was choosing to take his comfort from being wrapped up in his clothes, like a hug made of cotton and thread, that was fine by him. Though Edge did wonder if Stretch had noticed yet that he’d started buying his jeans a little longish and cuffing them, so that when Stretch inevitably borrowed a pair, they would fit. Stretch bypassed the last three steps to hop straight to the landing, and managed to not land on his coccyx. He dusted his hands briskly. “okay, now that that’s out of the way, what’s up for the day?”

“Do you need a moment to mark sexual intercourse off your chore chart?” Edge asked dryly.

“nah, might have to do it again, make sure it got done right.” That cheeky grin would normally have filled Edge with exasperated fondness. Today it was closer to relief.

Edge glanced at the clock. There were a few hours before he needed to do anything about Antwan’s situation. He could get some work done, but Stretch had already spent his morning misery-binging reruns. And he still hadn’t had lunch.

“We can do whatever you like, but lunch should be somewhere on the agenda.”

“well, call me a crazy romantic, but i’m starving. feed me?”

“Gladly, Seymour.” But instead of letting him slouch back on the sofa, Edge took his hand and tugged. “Come on, you can help.”

“what? nooo, that is a terrible idea.” His socked feet slid along the carpet as Edge pulled him determinedly along. “seriously, i’m a shitty cook, babe, you know that!”

“Actually, I know no such thing.” His tactic stalled at the kitchen door and instead Edge picked Stretch up, ignoring his squawking and carrying him in. “You’re a decent baker when you try. You aren’t bad at cooking, you just don’t like it, which translates into poor effort.”

“see there!” Came from about the middle of Edge’s back. “poor effort!”

“But you’ll put in effort today, I’m sure. Since I’m injured and need your help.”

Silence, then sullenly. “dirty pool, babe.” Stretch sighed and dangled for a long moment over Edge’s shoulder before grudgingly, “okay, okay. i’ll help.”

Edge set him on his feet and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheekbone. “Thank you.”

“yeah, yeah. what do you want?”

What he wanted was Stretch in the same room with him, until he could be sure his dark mood wasn’t going to pull the shutters again. What he said was, “Get a loaf of the sourdough bread from the pantry. It’s marked.”

While Stretch did that, Edge rummaged in the refrigerator, “I know that mustard isn’t your preferred condiment, but I find it gives this sandwich a much-needed tang.”

“tangy, yeah, no wonder your brother likes it. got a hell of a tang, doesn’t he.”

Edge hummed in agreement, unwrapped the cheese he’d chosen. Gruyere and sharp cheddar, and pulled out the grater. “I suppose that’s a way to put it. What were you two talking about earlier?”

It would be a refreshing change to have even one person in his life that responded well to the direct approach. But it wouldn’t be happening today. Stretch only plunked the bread on the counter and shrugged. “nothing.”

“Nothing. Hm.” Edge eyed the pile of shredded cheese measuringly. A little more. “The two of you stood around in silence, then. It must’ve been very boring.”

“nah, your bro is never short on entertainment. “ He stole a pinch of the shredded cheese, dancing back before Edge could swat him and munching it happily. He licked his fingers and said, more seriously, “we’re okay, babe, you don’t need to worry.”

“No?”

“nope. we got an understanding, me and Red.”

Edge paused as he sliced the bread. “That sounds utterly horrifying.”

“probably is. what are we making, anyway?”

“Grilled cheese.” Eight slices of bread used most of the loaf. That was fine, he’d already planned to make more on Saturday.

“fancy.”

“Good doesn’t need to be fancy, and you like grilled cheese.”

“i like your grilled cheese.” Stretch dragged one of the stools from the small breakfast bar over and sat, chin propped up on one hand. “why do you shred the cheese?”

“I find it melts more evenly.” Edge began spreading mayonnaise on the bread slices. “Grilled cheese may not be considered fancy, but there’s no reason to not do it right.”

Stretch only nodded, watching intently as he carefully mounded the cheese on the bread, adding a slice of onion and smear of mustard. With only a little nudging, Stretch did the same and if shreds of cheese were trailing out of his imperfectly balanced sandwiches, Edge ignored it.

He set a pan to heat on the stove and waggled a finger at Stretch in a silent ‘come hither’. It was crowded with both of them at the stove, all elbows fighting for space and Stretch ignoring the toasting sandwiches in favor of trying to get a hand under Edge’s untucked shirt. In the end, they had four imperfect toasted cheese sandwiches, unevenly browned and with melted cheese clinging in long strings to fingers and mouths whenever they took a bite.

Edge thought they might well be the best sandwiches he’d ever eaten, and his soul was calm.

Afterward, they curled up on the sofa together to watch new episodes of The Great British Baking Show, and it never failed to amuse Edge how invested Stretch was for someone who claimed to be such a terrible cook.

“it’s a genoise sponge,” Stretch huffed. He was mostly lying across Edge’s lap, allowing him to trace the suture lines on his skull with a gentle finger. “he already over-mixed it and now he keeps opening the oven!”

“It’s going to fall,” Edge agreed. His phone lit up with a text message from Alphys, confirming that she could see them in the morning. He closed it discreetly and listened to Stretch rant as they waited to see if the poor sponge cake would be worth elimination. Honesty was important, yes, but he thought it could wait a few hours yet.

It was late afternoon and at the end of the available episodes when Edge finally told Stretch, “I need to go over your brother’s for a moment, I won’t be long.”

That dragged his attention from the Netflix menu. “my brother? what for?”

“Penance,” Edge said dryly. “I won’t be long…unless you want to come along?”

“nah,” Stretch rolled off him with a groan and settled on one of the sofa cushions, a distant second when it came to places to lay his head. “i’ve been seeing him every day since andy moved in and if i tag along, it won’t be a moment.”

That was true. Edge took a moment to straighten his shirt, adjusting it with the sleeves rolled up, then dropped a kiss on Stretch’s skull before stepping into his shoes.

It wasn’t a far walk and the weather was nice enough to take in the fresh air. Since he’d skipped his run that morning, he could settle for this. The sidewalks were mostly empty, only a few children still playing before getting called in for dinner, and when Edge arrived he was pleased to see the delivery he’d requested was right on time.

Blue answered the door on the first knock, beaming up at him, “Edge, hello! Did you come over for some more healing?”

“No,” he stepped inside as Blue held open the door. “Actually I was hoping to speak to you. It’s about your brother.”

That made Blue perk up like a prairie dog out of its burrow, as he’d known it would. He’d been trying to think of a plan on how to get Blue out of the house most of the afternoon, and this one had only occurred to him on his walk over. It would work, but there would be consequences, he knew.

“What’s wrong?” Blue could always be counted on his brisk efficiency when it came to Stretch. “Nothing is wrong, exactly,” Edge said, “and he hasn’t said anything specific. But I think your brother has been missing you lately.” The stars that made up Blue’s eye lights widened into a brilliant gleam, “He has?” “Yes,” Edge said gravely. Silently, he sent up a prayer to whomever might listen to LV-scarred Monsters that his husband would forgive him for chucking him under the proverbial bus that was his brother’s concern. Blue frowned, considering, “But he’s been over every day!” “Ah, but Jeff is here. I think maybe he misses it being just the two of you. Would you mind stopping over?” Edge coaxed. “Just for a bit? I need to see Jeff for a few minutes, it should give you a little time to talk.” Blue was already stripping off his apron. Edge only watched him go, already guiltily thinking up ways to make it up to Stretch. Hopefully before his husband started contemplating the death part of till death do us part. But he couldn’t deny himself a tiny shred of smugness. Call him a bad liar.

The door was barely closed when one opened upstairs and Jeff came out, calling down, “Did you want to get started on dinner...oh! Hi, Edge.”

“Hello,” Edge said evenly. “Blue stepped out for a moment. I can’t stay long, but I wanted to give you this.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key ring.

If he had to guess, Edge would think that a year ago, Jeff wouldn’t have squealed in delight in front of him, dashing down the stairs to reach for the keys.

Edge definitely wouldn’t have deliberately held them higher, out of his reach. It made Jeff laugh and give him a little shove, “C’mon, you shit, give!”

“I’m sorry, I must be having trouble with Human customs,” Edge told him blandly, holding them higher as Jeff made to jump for them. “That didn’t sound at all like thank you, Edge. I appreciate all your hard work, Edge. Please let me have the keys to my new car, Edge, I will forever be grateful.”

That earned him a somewhat tremulous laugh. “Thank you, Edge.” Jeff’s smile was nearly as bright as Blue’s eye lights. “I mean it. Thank you, for everything. For the job, getting me into New New Home—

And that was enough of that. “We’ll see if you’re thanking me after the first public relations crisis. Now, come look at your car.”

He followed Jeff outside to the sedan parked in the driveway. It was as green as grass, with top of the line safety features, and Edge was about to remind him of his promise about seat belts when his phone buzzed. what in the name of fuck did you tell my brother, you asshole! you just bitched at me and now you’re pulling this??? The variety of angry emoticons that followed made him wince and Edge hastily texted back. That you missed him so Antwan would have a chance to speak to Jeff in private so they can work out whatever their problems are. There was a long pause and then, you’re lucky. next time let me in on the schemes to dupe my bro.

His sigh of relief was heartfelt. Sofa banishment averted, this time. While Jeff was busy examining his car, Edge took a second to send a text to Antwan that the coast was temporarily clear.

Now it was up to him.

~~*~~

Marrow hitting the snow, steaming wet crimson, and screaming, endless screaming. He can’t see, can’t find his brother, and there is so much screaming—

Edge woke with a gasp, his soul hot and throbbing, lying on sheets soaked with his own sweat as he struggled to breathe in the cooler air.

“edge?”

He jerked at the sound of his name, barely registering the hushed concern. Stretch was on the far side of the bed, making no attempt to touch and there was the faint crackle of his own magic in reach, ready for a hasty shortcut.

That was good, yes, allowed him to relax a little. That was the promise he’d gotten from Stretch the night before. They could sleep together if Stretch promised him he’d go if he thought…if he were afraid…if it seemed like a bad episode.

"Talk to me," Edge said. His voice was in ragged threads and he was still concentrating on taking deep breaths, but he desperately wanted to hear Stretch. "Tell me something unusual. Something hardly anyone knows." Stretch’s eye lights flickered as he blinked. “um. okay…did you know that there are five recognized dwarf planets in our solar system?”

Perfect. “I did not know that.”

“yeah, i mean, personally i think that’s some bullshit and that pluto deserves to be up with the big boys again, but no one’s pounding down the door for my opinion. anyway, so right now there are five, but there’s like, a hundred or so proposed ones and—“

Edge closed his sockets and listened to the winding ramble of his husband’s voice extolling the various attributes of heavenly bodies and whether they had earned a planetary legacy. The agitated throb of his soul slowly eased, gentling to a more normal pulse. Stretch’s voice only paused once, a startled hitch when Edge settled a careful hand on his ankle, the only place he could reach.

Stretch followed that gentle tug across the bed, settling against Edge’s side without a care for the damp sheets, tugging the blankets over them. Talking about hydrostatic equilibrium and orbital eccentricity and Edge listened to that well-loved voice speaking unknown, beautiful-sounding words until the first light of dawn crept into the window, letting them chase away the night.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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mysteli · 6 years ago

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Endless Summer Imperfect - Chapter 22

A/N: this chapter is a lot more chill than the last few and its more about recovery and processing. hope you enjoy!

Warning: T

Words: 9322

ES IMPERFECT TAG: @princessstellaris@mechaspirit@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @endlessly-searching-for-you@brightpinkpeppercorn@aragornesprincessgeekymamma @justboredtrash@diego-vii @indiacater@countrymusicandncis-blog @zigortega4life@nekkidmolerat @ravengalaxia@ladyseaheart1668@endless-jake@theendofallsummers

Masterlist

Imperfect Masterlist

ENDLESS SUMMER AFTERMATH - ENDING 1 IMPERFECT CHAPTER 22 - LOST TIME

Jake

Hmm. Jake contemplates heavily as his cerulean gaze remains glued to the television screen, where the live news is currently playing and talking about a pretty significant situation. There’s really nothing else to do as they wait in the lobby of the motel they’d found in the most secluded part of London. In truth, they are all over the news right now and it’s vital that they stay hidden. Problem is... they’ve all been proclaimed as dead.

They all had no choice but to flee the scene when the explosion happened because as of right now, the whole world and Rourke believe that they’re dead. But no. They’re still alive and forced to be on the run. It’s nothing new for Jake and he immediately suggested that a motel would be the best idea for a place to stay, since no one ever really pays attention to rough places such as them. They walked in and asked for a room and they’ve been told to wait until their keys are ready or whatever. Bet you the locks don’t fucking work anyway.

But the goddamn news has been exploding with their death conspiracy story, with Rourke finally revealing his face and identity to the world and acting as a saviour. He did an interview with the channels and explained the situation, stating the ‘unfortunate accident’ that took place under his own watchful eye. The world pitied him and were overwhelmed by sympathy. Now Rourke is set to appear like the one who will save them all.

Clearly this was his plan all along. To vanquish Jake, Estela, Mike, Diego and Logan from the world and his plans. Question is, why them specifically and who knows what he’s gonna do with the rest of the Catalysts?

There’s also a huge story behind the mysterious bodies found of the Vaanti. But the world doesn’t know they’re called that. They’re just seem as these unknown creatures that were involved in the accident. Some people have even gone far enough to assume that they’re related to dinosaurs. What the fuck?

To top off the stress of everything, Diego hasn’t been talking much due to the fact that he just lost the love of his life. He’s been understandingly silent and he doesn’t care to listen or respond when someone attempts to cheer him up. There’s just no point right now. He has a right to feel this way.

Jake sure as hell felt the same when he lost Mike. Grief-struck and flooded with the belief that nothing will ever get better from there. His recovery took a long time to kick in but all the alcohol and drowning sure made it easier to numb and suck up the pain. But Diego isn’t the same as Jake. He’s not a coward and he’s so much stronger. Hopefully, the road of recovery will be a lot easier because he’s got people helping him move past this. Jake didn’t have that and now he does. His only wish is that he didn’t make things worse for Diego when Jake stuck a bullet in Lundgren’s head right in front of him because he’s aware how much Diego despises murder and death so his heart must be sinking in its own personal hell right now.

Right now, they’re the only ones at this damn motel which is great because no one will recognise them and they’ve trapped in this waiting room for god knows how long. Usually, you get the key and then that’s it but Jake has been overwhelmed by the sight of this fake news story that’s been plastered all over television. Rourke’s clearly playing a game and his plans are finally starting to pan out. Maybe the group has a small advantage with Rourke thinking that they’re dead when they really survived. It means he won’t bother coming after them so they can lay low for a while. They sure as hell cant stay in London however.

Jake’s eyes don’t shift from the screen and the more he sees, the more his body tenses up with uneasiness. He tightens his grip on his wife as he stiffens and she tilts her head at him with concern, following his gaze over to the television.

“Baby, you shouldn’t be watching that.” Logan urges dismissively, moving Jake’s head away from the screen by tilting his chin and forcing him to lock eyes with her.

Jake lets out a frustrated sigh and he’s clearly offended by the way Rourke used his own death to make headlines. “It’s just fucking ridiculous, darlin’. I didn’t ask for this. Rourke has crossed the line now.”

Logan raises his eyebrows at him, sympathising with her husband while also being slightly confused. “But, Jake... isn’t it kinda good that he thinks we’re dead since he won’t come after us that way?” She dares to ask and Jake’s flood with disbelief in response.

He arches his head back and releases a slow exhale out of stress. “Maybe but he didn’t have to tell the world that were dead.” Jake’s mind drifts back to his family and he hates picturing the sorrowful look on their faces when they read this story and see Jake’s death announced on television. “What about my family? Fuck my traitor of a sister but... what about my mom? What would she fucking think?” Jake ends his shaky rant and closes his eyes as his doubts and fears torture his conscience. Logan leans into his shoulder and cups his cheek reassuringly.

“Jake...”

“It’s okay, Princess. They thought I was dead before anyway. This’ll just be an confirmation.” Jake mutters, planting a kiss on his wife’s forehead and he looks her dead in her ocean eyes. “I’m just glad I’ve got you back. For good. That’s the most important thing. I ain’t ever gonna lose you again, you got that?” The seriousness of his tone is enough for Logan to nod assuringly.

“Of course, Jake. No more risk when it comes to us. I love you too much to let you go ever.” Logan speaks in a fierce tone and Jake can’t help but smirk at how sexy she’s coming off right now.

“That reminds me. I can’t remember the last time I got to touch you, darlin’. How long has it been?” Jake whispers in a husky tone, leaning in so his lips are hovering over Logan’s and she bites her lower lip as a tension gets caught between them.

“About two months.” She answers, her body reacting as Jake grazes her cheek with his fingertips but she sure as hell wants his hands in a whole lot of other places right now.

Jake is a little taken aback by how long it’s actually been. “Damn... well how come it feels like forever when I got to...” He trails off, his cerulean eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of her and only now does he realise how much desire he’s been holding in and bottling up. This seems like the perfect time to let it out.

Instinctively, he plants featherlight kisses from her collarbone all the way to her quivering lips and he intends to build the kiss up when it arrives but Logan keeps it brief, leaning away with a weak smile.

“Jake... be patient.” She whispers, brushing his hair out of his eyes and his eyes her incredulously in response.

“Seriously? You’re asking me to be patient. Who the fuck can be patient when it comes to you?” Jake challenges and he’s about to go in another kiss but Logan plants a firm finger on his lips and that stops him in his tracks.

“Well then you’re just gonna have to learn then, Aragorn.” Logan tells him, dragging her finger over his lower lip and shooting him an expectant smirk. She shoots a quick glance towards Diego, who is seated on another chair with his knees curled up and his hands clutching them desperately. It’s like he’s looking for someone to hold or his dreamful gaze tells everyone that he’s reminiscing. Probably on the memories of Vaaryn and that saddens Logan so much. She turns back, her smirk now replaced by a guilty frown and she drops her voice to an even lower whisper, one Jake can barely hear. “Besides... I don’t think our PDA is gonna help Diego feel better about losing Vaaryn so can you just... wait?”

Jake looks over to Diego, noticing how depressed the poor guy and he’s suddenly hit by guilt when he realises what’s really happened here. Logan got her soulmate back but he didnt and that make him a little envious of their reunion because he wasn’t able to get one. Releasing a heavy exhale, Jake meets Logan’s eyes once more and nods understandingly, sneaking a kiss to one of her fingers and she rolls her eyes at him in response.

Finally, the owner approaches the group and hands them three keys. One room for Logan and Jake, a room for Diego and a two bed room for Estela and Mike. There were only three available and they didn’t mind sharing so that’s what happened. Seriously how is this an approved hotel?!

The five of them gather for one more conversation before they would head off to their rooms. They each grasp their keys and a moment of silence falls over them, as if they’re taking a moment to remember Vaaryn.

Jake sucks in a sharp breath and suddenly swerves around to face Diego, tears rising in his cerulean eyes as he prepares to speak some saddening words. “Diego... I just want you to know that... I wish I couldve gotten there sooner.” He admits and Diego rubs his eyes, shaking his head at Jake and patting him on the shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s ok, Jake. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it could have been.” Jake counters, his hands balling into fists as his frustration with himself builds like bricks in his body. “I never told you this but... Vaaryn tried to kill himself while he was locked up. I... barely stopped him but now I can’t help but think it would’ve been better if he just... did it himself. You know, have the blood on his own hands rather than leaving it all over Lundgren.” Jake confesses and Logan wraps her arms around him in a comforting manor. Tears infect Diego’s eyes again and he can’t stop a river from pouring down his face.

Upon hearing that, Diego hands his head, noticing how shame circles Jake like it’s haunting him. Diego exhales sharply and tries to act as a form of reassurance for the pilot who practically saved his life.

“Jake... you just did what you thought was right, saving Vaaryn, and I don’t think you should feel sorry about that. Either way, he’s not with us anymore.” Diego mutters under his breath and Logan rushes over to wrap him in a desperate hug, trying to comfort him the best she can.

“Diego, were all so sorry we couldn’t save him.”

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you guys.” Diego assures, burying his tearful face in Logan’s shoulder and finding condolence in his best friend. “I love you, Lo. At least I still have you.”

Logan leans away for a moment, guilt suddenly flooding her ocean eyes. “Just so you know, I wanted to save Vaaryn just as much as Jake. And I’m really sorry that...”

“Hey, dont do that.” Diego urges, interrupting her before she can start placing the blame on herself. “You shouldn’t feel sorry for caring about the love of your life. I would’ve been the same.”

Logan brings Diego in for another hug and they melt into a moment of true friendship. Once they pull away, Estela and Mike give Diego their own forms of reassurance before everyone starts discussing the plans for the day ahead.

“Alright. So we need a night to process everything that’s happened. Just get a goodnight’s sleep and we’ll all meet back in the morning.” Estela explains, her voice slightly strained due to her boggled mind at all the events that have happened. She was the only one that really had her head on straight during that whole rescue and her main concern was keeping everyone safe, which she almost did successfully. But so much happened to her there as well. Finding out her mother is alive and acting as one of Rourke’s puppets. Who knows what he wants to use her for? Probably his sickening excuse for an army.

Mike glances over to Estela, sympathising with her situation and he’s almost tempted to give her a hug or act as a form of reassurance but in the end, he convinces himself to stay back and let everything sink in. He doesn’t need to add another weight on her shoulder about the question of what they are.

“A good night’s sleep, huh? Haven’t had one of those in a long time.” Jake admits, running a hand through his greased hair.

“Well, we gotta try. This night is a chance to recover but I know we’ll never forget about what happened in that hell of a place.”

Michelle

So still. Her body is so still. Quinn looks so peaceful in her deep slumber that it would be so easy to forget that she’s experiencing a life-endangering coma right now. Still, Michelle can’t seem to get her mind past that part. She probably never will, especially not while she sits here all night staring at a barely alive Quinn, who has fallen for so much over the past few weeks.

When Michelle was experiencing her whole pregnancy situation, Quinn was there for her and now Michelle believes she must be there for her. Because now it’s Quinn going through a tough time. So it doesn’t matter how many times someone comes up to Michelle and tells her to go home and get some rest because she isn’t moving until Quinn wakes up. Her mind won’t ever be at ease until she knows that Quinn is okay. It’s just not possible.

If Michelle can even be honest with herself for one moment, she’d admit that she is getting a little bit tired but she won’t let herself fall asleep. Not now. The night is at its full glory and that’s prompting Michelle’s exhaustion to start kicking in but she fights it off as much as she can.

The bitter resentment of the disease that is trying to take Quinn’s life at this very moment is the most dominant emotion of Michelle’s right now and she can only hope and pray that Quinn finally wins the war and makes her way back to the land of the living.

All of a sudden, the door to the room staggers open and Michelle snaps her head to idnentify the newcomer into this time of grief. She recognises the figure as Sean and she’s surprised to find him back here so soon, since she told him not to hang around and get some rest but when does Sean ever listen?

There’s a clear concern in his chestnut eyes and Michelle finds herself without any words to say to him.

“Hey.” is all she manages to get out, trying to form the weakest of smiles but she can’t even do that with the way she’s feeling.

Sean approaches her with slight caution, especially as he takes her current weak state. He’s never seen Michelle like this before and she’s so wrecked for one person. It’s so clear what Michelle feels for Quinn and that only makes Sean feel like he’s standing in the way of something special when really he should encouraging her to look out for her health just as much as she looks out for Quinn.

Once he reaches Michelle, Sean seats himself on the armrest of the chair, placing his hand on her shoulder and rubbing it comfortingly. He’s trying his best to be there for her but it’s so damn hard when the news of the abortion still looms over his mind. Can’t say anyone should blame him however.

“Should I even ask if you’re ok?” Sean dares to mention, tilting his head to search her expression but he can’t see it while her head is hanging so shamefully.

A breathy sigh escapes Michelle in response and she runs a hand through her ombré hair. “I’ll be better once Quinn wakes up.” She mutters under her breath, her voice a mere whisper that Sean barely manages to hear.

At the mention of Quinn, his eyes snap over to where she lies and it’s almost painful to see her in such a sight. Sean has never really spoken to Quinn before. No one has really. She always kept to herself and never really connected with anyone, especially not the way she did with Michelle once they met. Their story has been brewing for months now and they became so close that it was set to be the most painful for Michelle when the time came for Quinn’s descent.

“...How is she?” Sean asks yet another risky question and Michelle barely tilts her head at him, her frown faltering.

“Stable. Barely though.” Michelle responds blandly, the stress practically evaporating off her and it gives Sean an uneasy feeling.

Sean notices how sleep-deprived Michelle is and his mind jumps back immediately to his comfort zone. Caring about other’s well being before anything else. “Michelle... you need sleep—“

“Quinn’s parents are supposed to show up tomorrow morning so I’m not leaving until they show up.” Michelle interrupts, determination flooding her features.

“I’m not asking you to leave.” Sean corrects, stiffening as Michelle suddenly leans against his knee and he responds safely by slinging an arm over her shoulder.

“Sleeping still separates me from Quinn. And she’s not safe.” Michelle points out and that causes Sean to furrow his brows.

Come to think of it, Michelle has never actually told Sean about what’s wrong with Quinn. This is all so sudden.

“Michelle...”

“Yes?”

“...What’s actually wrong with Quinn? Her coma seems sort of... sudden?”

Sean feels Michelle shudder at his abrupt question but she quickly composes herself, her expression falling grim once again. “She has Rotterdam’s. She’s had it all her life. I found out a couple months back and this is the moment she’s been dreading for so damn long. This is Stage 4. A coma... and she may never wake up.” Michelle explains, her tone becoming more and more weak the more she speaks of the topic and tears swell in her eyes.

Sympathising with her, Sean clutches her with comforting intentions, letting her cry into his shoulder and he tries to help her the best she can. That’s all Sean has ever wanted to do. Help people. Even if it doesn’t work out, he still tries but now he’s here and Michelle is someone he just can’t fix. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be an acceptable form of support. He’s living too closely to what’s expected of him and that’s perfection. Something he just can’t live up to.

“I’m so sorry I asked, Michelle.” Sean apologises and Michelle just shakes her head at him with a clear defiance in her hazel eyes.

“Don’t apologise. I know how much you wanna help.” Michelle acknowledges and that’s when her mind drifts back to a memory that has become so neglected by her over her last few hours. She actually is consumed by guilt that she’s forgotten about it for too long. “I’m the one who should be apologising. I aborted our baby.”

Sean tries not to let himself be corrupted by grief then because he can’t afford to match Michelle’s vulnerability right now. This is a topic he has to fight with strength and deal with it with Michelle.

“No. Please. I know I kinda scared you with the whole us not being ready thing.” Sean assures.

“That’s never an excuse to kill a living thing, Sean.” Michelle counters, a river pouring from her eyes and once again, Sean realises that he’s not making this better in any way.

Sean clears his throat and parts his lips to speak but Michelle shakes her head at him, signalling for him to let her go first, which he obliges hesitantly. Anything he says will probably make things worse anyway.

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to apologise. You just have to know and remember that this isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me, Sean.” Michelle says in a pleading done. Who knows if those words were meant to come out as a command but her weak, soft tone prevented that from happening. “Just accept that. Please.”

A moment of silence and contemplation takes over as Sean tries to process Michelle’s words. She’s been through so much over the last few weeks and Sean can’t even begin to compare to how much more emotionally strong she is than him. Sean is a coward, according to him. He can’t even accept that something isn’t his fault because lately it feels like everything is. All he wants is to tell Michelle she’s wrong and console her the best he can.

Alas, he doesn’t have a choice. Sean simply nods in response and releases a futile word that is accompanied by nothing but a mere whisper.

“Ok.”

Logan

Logan leads Jake into their assigned motel room by the land and opens the door with her intentions already clear in her mind. She’s never been more determined in her life to prove to Jake just how much she’s missed him. He deserves to be able to forget about everything he’s been through and just enjoy this time of peace and recovery. It may be more painful for some but Jake and Logan are finally back together and that’s something worthy of celebrating.

They’ve barely made it through the door before Jake crushes his lips against Logan’s, having not really been given the chance to fully embrace the familiarity and soft taste of her lips. The kisses are not tender and full of emotion like they were when they first reunited. No, this is pure hunger and urgency, a desperation that’s caused by their dreaded amount of time apart. It’s been too long. Way too long.

Jake slams the door shut and grips Logan by her hips, pressing her up against the door and savouring the full feeling of his lips on hers again. All his thoughts have been on her and this reunion is better than he ever could have imagined. Logan winds her arms around the back of Jake’s neck and she lets her fingers drift into his air, occasionally gripping on a few strands and stifling a groan out of him - the sound like music to her ears.

The moment seems so perfect and they’re both so ready to melt into one another again and it appears like it’s about to come true... until Jake suddenly pulls away, barely breaking physical contact as his hand mindlessly ends up fiddling with the hem of his khaki jacket that Logan still happens to be wearing. Logan notices an uneven conflict in his eyes and she cups his cheek comfortingly.

“Something wrong?” She questions, genuine concern flooding through her ocean eyes and she’s a little taken aback when Jake lets out a soft chuckle in response.

“No... everything’s fine, Princess. It’s just...” He trails off, his cerulean eyes burning into hers as he takes in her stunning features. Jake can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that she’s really here. In his arms. “...nothing it’s stupid.” He backtracks and Logan won’t let this topic go easily.

“I’m not dropping this now. Tell me what’s wrong.” Logan urges and Jake knows he has to answer when he realises how worried she’s getting.

“It’s nothing bad, darlin’. I just... can’t believe you’ve been wearing my jacket all this damn time.” Jake finally admits, hanging his head as he lets out a breathy laugh. Logan feels her expression falling a little in response as she grips the collar of the jacket and fidgets with it.

“Guess it was the only thing I really had left of you.” Logan murmurs and Jake kisses her forehead comfortingly upon hearing that. He can’t stand seeing her sad, especially with everything she’s going through. All of a sudden, a memory ignites in Logan’s mind and her hand swiftly digs into the pocket of the jacket, retrieving a familiar item, especially to Jake. “Well... also this.”

With that, she pulls out the compass, otherwise her Ember Of Hope, revealing it to Jake and he scans it intently, narrowing his eyes as if he’s strongly debating whether he recognises it or not.

“A compass? What does that have to do with me?” Jake questions and Logan is slightly taken aback by his lack of memory.

“You really don’t remember?”

“Nah. Lundgren kinda mentioned that when I remember everything, some of the memories I had when I was clueless may have gone away. Looks like this was one of them.” Jake explains, his finger grazing the compass and Logan simply nods, prepared to explain it to him.

“Well... remember everything that happened with the Ember of Hopes and all that?” Logan eases Jake into it and he nods, letting her continue. “...This is mine.”

“Seriously? And you never told me?” Jake acknowledges, furrowing his brows.

“No... I was kinda scared at the time.” Logan responds, hanging her head in a little guilt and Jake tilts her head back up by her chin, looking her dead in the eyes and planting a reassuring kiss on her lips. Feeling revived, she shakes the shame off and continues. “That’s not even the weirdest part.”

“What is it then?”

“After we came here, I thought it was all gone but... Jake... you had it with you the whole time.” Logan finally reveals and Jake’s eyes widen a little out of confusion.

“What? Since when, Princess?”

“You told me you found it on the beach one day and decided it was important enough to keep. Mainly because, in your own words, it reminded you of someone you thought you used to know.”

Jake struggles to process this. All this time there have been so many signs that him and Logan are meant to be together but what baffles him the most is how different his personality worked when he was clueless of everything. So much more careless but those little changes like finding that compass must have made his alter ego shine through.

Logan notices how quiet Jake and she waves a hand in his face, trying to bring him back to the land of the living. “Jake? You okay?”

Out of nowhere, a grateful grin breaks out on Jake’s features and his cerulean gaze lights up at the sight of his gorgeous wife. Before Logan can even process what’s happening, Jake sweeps her off her feet and kisses her fiercely, a determination flooding through him like never before. He steadies her by resting his hands on her thighs. She responds by parting her lips a little and wrapping her legs around his waist, as Jake begins leading her away from the door and towards the bed... if he can find it.

Jake suddenly leans away, smirking at Logan as his hands hook onto the khaki jacket. “Sorry, Lo. I know you really, really... really love this jacket... but it’s gotta go if I’m gonna fuck you right.” He teases, knocking their foreheads together and Logan just forms her own smirk in response.

“Can’t exactly argue with that then can I?” She whispers, noticing his cockiness and challenging him. Jake shrugs the jacket off her shoulders and quickly connects their lips again as they swiftly fall back into their desperate frenzy of passion.

This is just as careless and desperate as their first time. When their lives were at risk and death was an almost certainty. When they wanted nothing more than to be with each other and use their last night wisely. They were new to each other but they felt so familiar at the same time, probably because they’d done it 2139 timelines before as well. But still, they were in need of each other and they couldn’t have imagined being with anyone else in that moment. It was just about them. And now this is just about them too.

Logan lets her hands drift all around the upper half of Jake’s body, from the back of his neck to the end of his arms. Then, she roams her palms all the way up his chest but she doesn’t exactly make it to the top because of Jake’s sudden wince at her more firm impact.

In fact, he lets out an agonised groan. “Agh, fuck!” He curses under his breath and almost drops Logan. Instinctively, she hops off him in order to give him space and he involuntarily collapses to his knees.

Now seated on the floor, Jake runs a hand through his hair as an attempt to soothe himself. It sure as hell doesn’t work as there is a never ending feeling of seeming like he’s on fire and his right peck is on fucking fire right now. Logan sinks to her knees and swiftly rushes to his side, cupping Jake’s cheek with desperation as she searches his dazed gaze for a sign that he’s okay.

“Jake... what’s wrong?” She dares to ask, starting to fear the worst.

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m just... bruised.” Jake assures, preparing to stand up but his wound prevents him from getting back up. “Shit!”

“Bruised, my ass. You’re hurt, Jake.” Logan corrects, lifting up his shirt to examine his injury and her ocean eyes widen at what she finds.

“Seriously? You’re gonna go all doctor on me now?”

Logan brushes off his stupid comment as she’s too damn curious about how Jake managed to get such a wound. “Jake... that’s a burn.”

Jake finally surrenders, his shoulders slumping back in defeat. “Ok... maybe Lundgren got a bit excited with the taser.”

“Oh my god! How is this only hurting you really bad now?” Logan wonders, her finger grazing the outline of the wound and Jake winces at her wound.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s only starting to kick in.” Jake shakes his head and an unexpected chuckle escapes him.

“Jake, this doesn’t really seem like a laughing matter.” Logan points out and that only makes Jake laugh even more.

“The pain just had to come around at the wrong time though, didn’t it?” Jake states, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes at the world. Logan immediately catches on to what he’s saying and can’t hold back the smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“...I don’t think a shower would be that bad.” Logan mutters under her breath and Jake narrows his cerulean eyes at her, smirking curiously.

“You kidding, darlin? Water will make this sting like hell.” Jake points out and Logan realises that only after he mentions it. With that, she nods understandingly and runs a hand through her platinum hair. It’s Jake’s next words that surprise her the most. He leans in abruptly so their lips are almost touching. “But I’m sure it will be so fucking worth it.” He adds in a low husky whisper, causing Logan to bite her lower lip in response.

“You sure? It’s gonna hurt.”

“Eh, I’ll suck it up. Done it all my life.” Jake counters, folding his arms as the pain finally dies down and he can get it his feet. A smile crosses his features when he completes the action successfully. He offers a hand to Logan and she takes it willingly, rising to her feet. Their faces remain inches apart and that’s when Logan takes a chance to inhale his scent.

As expected, it’s pure crap.

“You really need a shower anyway.” Logan acknowledges and she expects Jake to be a little offended but he simply throws his head back and laughs.

“Well you saved my life, now you can save my hygiene.” Jake points out, grabbing Logan by the hand and leading her into the motel bathroom.

Mike

A tension creeps into the air, infecting the atmosphere as Mike watches Estela intently since she’s been pacing around the room out of stress for about fifteen minutes. He can’t say he really blames her. Her thoughts must be souring with the amount of lies that have been told to her and only recently has she maintained her memories again so there must be around a million things haunting and taunting her right now.

Everything in that hell hole of a place happened so fast and Estela clearly got the worst mental impact, considering all the things she found out. The worst thing probably being the sight of her mother, shackled in a cage like an animal. Thats how she described it to Mike anyway. It’s clear her mother has been manipulated in some way and is being moulded to be one of Rourke’s puppets. It’s clear the bastard is doing this for revenge as well, trying to prove to her mother that you should never double cross him. He’s torturing her. Manipulating her. Shaping her into a monster and that has to be most heartbreaking thing about this.

It’s Estela’s father and her mother. In this particular situation, it’s so easy for her to choose a side since it’s undeniably obvious who the real monster is. Olivia is a victim, lost to Rourke and she spent her whole life trying to get away from him with no luck. Now she’s the one paying the price and who knows what he’s planning on prepping her for? What would he make her do?

It doesn’t make much sense since Rourke killed all the Vaanti in the explosion and he stranded them outside for the world see and exaggerate into their worst nightmares. Everything about his plan was private but now it seems like he’s revealing it all to the world. He wants their approval. He wants their worship. He wants their power and he wants to manipulate the world so they fall on their knees at the sight of him.

What the hell has this world come to? It’s truly sickening.

Mike never dares tear his eyes away from Estela, who still hasn’t stopped pacing as stress runs throughout her body. Her veins are popping with frustration and her entire demeanour is revealing her greatest weaknesses. She’s barely even paid attention to Mike since they got in here.

Sure, things are guaranteed to be awkward between them since they haven’t even dared to discuss the current state of their relationship status. They never really ended things on a breakup. It was more of thinking one of them was dead and thinking the other one had eternal amnesia.

Mike remembers playing their story all to well.

When he was brought back by Jake and the others, finally regaining his conscience, he grew a respectful bond with the fierce warrior of them all, Estela. She was always a stubborn one, protective of the others but always cautious about who she trusted. At first, Estela was extremely wary of Mike, no matter how much Jake tried to talk him up. She was all business and did her best to avoid him.

Then things kinda escalated when Mike found Estela sitting alone on the Dorado one night. They developed a relationship of sorts but never really confirmed it. They kept it a secret from everybody else, since they couldn’t afford to face the music. It was always a lot to think of and digest. So they laid low and Mike has to admit, it was one of the best times of his life. He truly loved Estela and he didn’t admit it to her until the last second before he sacrificed himself, watching her eyes flood with an emotion he’d never seen on her. Grief. Sadness. A yearn to mourn.

He told her he loved her… but he never let her say it back.

Now… he’s found Estela again and she appears the same, just as confident, sexy, fierce, cold towards all the wrong people, tough, able and always ready for a damn fight. She hasn’t changed.

But it’s clear she may not want to continue what they and Mike has to be okay with that. She’s going through so much right now and it’s already killing him to see her so broken. He’s just so good at hiding his worries. He wants to comfort her. He really does but he fears she may push him away and shut him out. Estela is complex soul with so many sides to her and Mike can’t say he doesn’t love her because he really does. He just wants to her to have life back and with everything that’s happening, that may not happen any time soon.

Finally, Mike breaks out of his trance and decides to say a few words to Estela or at least try and get talking to her again because they’ve been so silent for so long and have even dared to speak of their current situation.

“I’m sorry.” Mike mutters under his breath but Estela definitely heard them thanks to the deafening silence. She stiffens when she hears him speak to her properly for the first time.

Estela folds her arms as idly as possible and leans against the wall, finally pausing her pacing. It’s painfully obvious that she’s trying to appear as calm and collective as she can. She hates when people overly worry about her. “You don’t have to apologise. Nothing that happened today was your fault.” Estela assures, clicking her tongue and processing his apology.

“I’m not talking about today.” Mike abruptly corrects, a meaningful look hinted in his chestnut eyes.

Estela furrows her brows, bewildered. “What do you mean then?”

“I’m sorry that I... left you the way I did.” Mike admits, reminiscing back to the day he sacrificed himself for the greater good and Estela’s eyes widen in complete disbelief as a reaction.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Estela reacts, slightly taken aback. “You’re really apologising for saving us. Killing Lundgren.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly stay dead, did he?” Mike counters, shaking his head as he seats himself on the edge of his own bed.

“Yeah? Well neither did you.” Estela bites back, running her hands through her brunette hair and sighing intensely. Clearly, she’s trying to assure Mike that she’s okay with the fact that he left the way he did but there must be a feeling deep down inside of her that’s taunting her about some sort of disapproval. After a deadened moment of silence, Estela exhales sharply and clears her throat. “...Look, you did what you had to do to help Jake... Lundgren was so close to killing him.”

Mike raises his eyebrows at Estela’s assumption that his sacrifice was only for Jake. “It wasn’t just for Jake, Estela.”

“Oh yeah, sure it was for Logan too. She was about to get killed as well.” Estela’s guesses once more and Mike shakes his head in denial, only confusing Estela now until she finally catches on and an irritated huff escapes her. “No! Please tell me you didn’t do that for me!”

Mike silences himself, daggers made of guilt stabbing his heart as he takes in the violent tone in which Estela speaks. Her strong gaze burns into his and she’s almost pleading with him to tell her that this wasn’t because of her.

However, his silence is all the answer Estela needs. “Mike... I’m so sick of people dying because they wanted to protect me or keep me safe. I’ve lost too many people because of the claim that I’m in danger.” Tears swell in Estela’s deep brown eyes and she can’t seem to use the skill she’s perfected her entire life... hiding her grief. “I lost my mom because she wanted to keep me safe from my father. Now look where she is, a chamber of torture becoming one of Rourke’s petty little minions. I lost my Tio because some stupid motherfucking astronaut bitch wanted to protect me from the world. And now...” Estela trails off, her desperate eyes searching Mike’s eyes frantically and she almost can’t bring herself to say the words. “...I’ve lost you.”

“But you haven’t lost me.” Mike corrects, rising from the edge of the bed and approaching Estela, remaining at a fair distance so she still has space. “I’m right here.”

“Are you though? You don’t seem like the same man i knew on the island.” Estela points out, waving her hand up and down in front of Mike and he furrows his brows at that.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re just... different.” Estela mutters under her breath, running a hand through her dark hair again as tears continue to pool from her eyes. “I just don’t feel the same way around you anymore. I would’ve thought that if you ever did come back, I’d care about you the same way I did before but... no. Maybe all the feelings I had before died with the man I used to know.” Mike is unsurprisingly confused at her words. Shes speaking so meaningfully, which is something Estela has never been able to do. How much has this timeline really changed her? “We’re all different people now, thanks to Rourke’s mistake. The momentary amnesia must have affected us more than we thought, especially for you since you died and came back to life. Everything about you has changed for some reason or maybe I’ve just changed. Either way... I know... I don’t... love you anymore.”

Hearing Estela finally admit that she loved Mike is like music to his ears. But he can’t really appreciate her saying it because she’s using it in a context to tell him that he’s practically nothing to her. Like there’s no more romance to pick back up, thanks to Rourke’d experiment. Its truly saddening to Mike to hear Estela deny any chance that they can work through this.

“But I still love you. Can’t we at least try—“

“Maybe there are certain sides of love that managed to get through. Like Jake and Logan. But then maybe there are feelings that changed with the person. Like Diego’s tragic fate. All I know is that... I can’t force myself to fall in love with you again because I just know I’ll end up being the one who gets hurt again. And I’ve been through too much already, Mike. I’m sorry.”

With that, Estela disappears into the bathroom, leaving Mike loveless and empty. What the hell is she talking about? Still, Mike has no excuse to argue with her. She has these insane theories about what’s happened painted in her brain and he won’t be able to change her mind on it. But no matter what, Mike knows he’s never gonna stop loving her. And maybe she’ll come through eventually.

Jake

Jake still can’t fucking believe it. His Princess is truly back in his life. For good. Hopefully for good anyway but Jake isn’t gonna dare allow his thoughts to drift into dark places tonight. No. Tonight is about him and Logan and proving to her just how much he loves her, which he has done successfully, judging by the satisfaction painted onto her expression as they fall back onto the motel bed.

It’s crazy to think that sex with Logan is just as memorable as it was the first time. When they wanted nothing more than to be with each other in that moment and now here they are, what seems like forever later, still feeling like the fireworks are a brand new feeling. They’re truly soulmates and no one can even dare deny it anymore. It’s not a suspicion or a theory. It’s a fact. They’re meant for each other. End of story.

Now they just want a complete night of peace, a chance to show each other just how much they’ve missed the other and they’ve been doing well with it so far. After an undeniably satisfying shower, Jake actually felt like a brand new man, feeling as though he’d been cleaned of all the trauma he went through when he was trapped in the clutches of Rourke and now he feels... free, almost. The happiest he’s been in a long time. Even though there’s still so much depressing shit going on at the moment, Jake still needs to appreciate that his soulmate is back in his life. Now he plans to never lose her again.

Logan slowly snuggles up to Jake, resting her head on his chest and tilting her head up to admire his dazed expression. She can tell he’s exhausted because who knows when the last time was when he had a good sleep? His eyes are barely half open and she smiles at the pleasant sight of him. She missed these simple moments. The aftermath of a passionate night together and the sweet minutes of just talking and reminiscing. These are the times Logan truly cherishes and she would never take them for granted.

Noticing how her ocean eyes are so bright and full of pure happiness, Jake momentarily shoves his exhaustion to the side and turns his attention her, eyeing her with curiosity.

“What are you looking at, Princess?” Jake questions, not able to hide wide grin that crosses his lips.

“It’s just like how I remembered with you.” Logan admits, grazing Jake’s cheek with her fingertips and he flinches a little at her featherlight touch.

“Heh, glad I still got it.” Jake jokes, planting a kiss on her forehead and nuzzling her hair for an extra second. “Seriously though, I’m so glad I’ve got you back. I missed you so goddamn much.”

“I missed you too. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find you again.” Logan whispers and Jake can sense the pain in her tone. She must have gone through endless emotional trauma... all over him? Jake can’t even try and believe that. With reassuring intentions, Jake brings their lips together as he tries to soothe her slowly growing sadness.

“I’m sure... you would have survived, darlin’.” Jake points out with a tinge of regret in his tone.

“Maybe... but I still would have been miserable.” Logan murmurs and she can sense that topic is really bugging Jake, as his mind starts to ache with doubts and wonders that hadnt really bothered him until now. She reaches out to him and intwines their fingers, while using her other hand to brush the stray strands out of his face. “Jake.. what’s wrong?”

“It’s just... what if saving me was a mistake?” He suddenly pipes up and Logan’s sapphire eyes widen with disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, darlin’. I know that people think we’re dead now but... now I know I’ll never be able to give you the life that you fucking deserve and it’s killing me.” Jake confesses, pouring out all of his doubts and regrets into this one moment.

“How do you know, Jake? Maybe this just gives us another chance.”

“Lo, there’s a clear fucking reason. Do you think I can ever go back to the States after this? I was barely safe when they hadn’t caught me.” Jake snaps, his frustration eating into him and he can’t push it away like he usually does.

“But Jake...”

“Look, Princess... I know how much you wanna keep us together and I wanna do that too but... I also wanna make sure I’m a husband to you, not a burden.” Jake’s honesty is so real, as well as his concern but he doesn’t seem to realise that Logan doesn’t need any protection. She only needs him.

“Jake... you could never be a burden. And I’ve lost you too many times to wanna let you go again.” Logan assures and Jake seems a little more convinced as she stares him dead in the eyes, a solemness he’s never seen in her before. “This is it, okay? You and me. Forever. To the stars and back, right?”

Finally, the hint of a smile creeps up at the corner of Jake’s lips and he lets out a soft exhale in response to her words. “Right.” Jake eventually relents, surrendering to his love and he slowly brings their lips together for a tender kiss that lingers longer than it should. When they pull away, he knocks their forehead together and takes a moment to admire the love of his life. “I fucking love you, darlin’.”

He truly can’t believe that she chose someone like him to spend the rest of her life with.

“I love you too and we’re gonna save all our friends from this goddamn world that Rourke created. But you know what we have to do in order to achieve that, right?”

Jake furrows his brows, suddenly confused. “What?”

“...Were going back to the States.”

Michelle

The next morning finally dawns onto the world and the light exploding from the window alarms Michelle to the fact that the day has finally arrived, leaving her completely aware that she will have to leave Quinn today and she sure as hell is hesitant to do that. Sure, Quinn’s parents will be here to comfort her and Michelle knows that they won’t want her hanging over their shoulder asking constant questions about Quinn’s current state.

Michelle will have no choice. She’s going to have to leave and her heart is begging her not to do it but her body is desperately reeling with exhaustion, urging her to fall into her own deep slumber because she’s neglected sleep for too long. But she still doesn’t wanna go. She wants to stay here and be there for Quinn. But her family won’t want her to always be there.

A nurse has popped in a few times throughout the night to check on Quinn, measuring her blood pressure and temperature every few hours. Nothing has changed. Her state has been the same since she first collapsed and who knows if she’ll ever improve or worse...

Michelle quickly shoves away the thought and releases a low exhale. She glances at the clock nearby. Almost 9 O’clock. The nurse alerted Michelle that Quinn’s parents are set to arrive around this time and she wishes to offer her condolences before she’s forced to leave. With that, Michelle finally rises from her chair and wanders over to Quinn, feeling the urge to gain one more mental image of her before she leaves for a while.

Quinn looks so peaceful and maybe this is the sleep she’s always dreamed of but never received because the burden of her fate was always haunting and taunting her. Too bad the circumstances are so grim or Michelle might actually be able to admire the woman she’s slowly falling for.

“I’ll see you soon, Quinn. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. And when I see you Lo, I’ll tell her about what you said. I don’t know what it means but... if you said it, then I’ll do it because...”

Before Michelle can get out her last words, she ends up trailing off as she spots a slow action performed by Quinn and her hazel eyes widen at the revelation. A simple stir of the hand but so damn important. It’s a sign of life. A reflex, if you will and it proves that Quinn still carries her life within her. The first smile breaks out on Michelle’s features and she can’t help but be excited that Quinn is finally revealing the fact that she’s alive.

“Oh my god... Quinn! You’re alive! Wait... can you hear me? If so, I want you to know...”

Then suddenly, Quinn’s body starts to shake slightly and her eyes start to quiver as they’re about to open. But the way this awakening is happening is rather unusual. It’s not the sudden eyes opening that’s so sweet like you see in the movies. No, this is almost... terrifying. Quinn looks like she’s about to explode and her body shivers even more violently as the moments pass.

Michelle’s eyes widen at the current situation and she can’t believe what she’s seeing. One moment it seems like Quinn is alive and now it almost seems like she’s possessed in some way. This has to be some kind of sick game that Michelle’s mind has come up with. A method of manipulation. A horrible hallucination.

But the more Michelle blinks and realises it’s still there... the more real it seems.

“Quinn... are you ok—“

All of a sudden, Quinn’s once dead eyes snap open but the usual sky blue ocean colour doesn’t light up the room so positively like it typically would. No... a neon, lime green light bursts out of both eyes. An emerald fire of torture hiding the hope in her corneas and Michelle is amazed by what she’s seeing.

What the fuck kind of sorcery is this? Quinn looks like she’s been possessed or cursed but what the hell is going on? This has to be a nightmare. How can this be real?

Now Michelle is really starting to feel her anxiety cracking through and she runs her hands through her blond hair. That’s when she starts to hear it. Quinn is screaming through an echoey voice, like a cry for help. Michelle can’t quite make out what she’s saying but she still manages to catch a few breathy words.

“...Kill... kill... kill...”

She’s just speaking kill, all over again. But then another word makes its way again, confusing Michelle even more.

“...Reborn... Reborn... Reborn...”

Now this is truly frightening. Michelle should probably go get help and find someone suitable to take care of this but she can’t fucking bring herself to move. She’s completely paralysed but she knows she has to help Quinn, if anything.

With that, Michelle paces over to Quinn and attempts to grasp her in order to prevent her from shaking as she tries to knock some sense into her. Just as their hands graze... Michelle becomes the same thing. Her eyes a flash a hot pink and she screams out in agony as she tries to maintain Quinn. Michelle feels as though a rose-coloured fire is tearing up her heart and the pain is almost unbearable as she tries to fight through it and take some of Quinn’s pain too.

What the hell is even happening to her? This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare.

Out of the blue, as the pain starts becoming even more severe, Michelle’s mind is suddenly flooded with memories. Her memories just flow through her mind, rushing through her body continuously and giving her a chance to feel something familiar. Something she hasn’t felt in a long time and it almost feels like she’s right back where she started. Her head starts to ache from the amount of memories but she also feels an endless amount of relief.

Finally, she remembers everything. Getting trapped on the island. Almost killing a colossal crab. Attacking a sea monster. Meeting a pirate. Absolutely everything. She remembers it all. Everything and everyone.

Sean, Quinn, Raj, Grace, Aleister, Craig, Zahra, Jake, Estela, Diego and... Logan.

Michelle finally is rid of her amnesia but it sure took a hell of a lot of pain to do it. She feels just as possessed as Quinn but only in exterior not interior.

Then suddenly, the lights burn out, the fire dies, the voices fade, the shaking pauses and everything returns to the way it was, including Quinn. Still in her deep slumber and it’s like her sudden awakening never happened.

There’s just one difference, however... Michelle now has her memories back.

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