#Thinking of whatever the Relaxed Circumstances are as sink water goes over her fingers

[stormears]

I just read the 5ish page prologue to "Ninth House" by Leigh Bardugo and I already feel that she is a genius wordsmith writing swordswoman and I can't fuckin believe I let this book sit on my shelf for months. I just picked it up at a Home Goods and ignored it bc I'm STUPID

[everlarkficexchange]

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan​​​

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams​​​

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: Mature 

Warning: Mention of whipping. Use of coarse language.

A/N: Here’s the next instalment as promised. Sending my thanks and gratitude to @everlarkficexchange​ ; @javistg​ and @xerxia31​ for posting my really late submission and to @sunsetsrmydreams​ for always being there for me.  

~~~

Chapter 3

The gate of the Victor’s Village is just ahead and as I get closer, Katniss starts to stir from her semi-conscious state and tries weakly to pull away from me. I hold her a little tighter, trying to avoid touching her wounds and whisper she’s safe, but she continues to struggle and cries out in pain from her sudden movements.

My steps quicken as Katniss keeps trying to free herself from my arms and when I tell her, “we’re almost there,” she mutters the one name that pierces my heart like a sharp blade.   

“Gale?”

This is the second time I’ve heard his name today but hearing it from Katniss cuts deep and it hurts me more than it should. But I try not to let it show in my voice and bite the inside of my cheek before speaking.

“No…it’s Peeta.”

Katniss mutters something unintelligible but stops fighting me and her tense body relaxes a little as she buries her face in my neck, taking in a deep breath and letting it out as a soft whimper.

There’s no time for my hurt emotions to resurface and when I feel her tears moisten my skin, I try my best to console her.

“Shshshsh, I know you want to be with Gale right now, but you’ll have to put up with me for a little while. It will be okay,” I promise to her. Katniss shakes her head and wraps her arms around my neck, clinging to me even tighter.

Climbing the steps of my house, I fumble with the front door handle and manage to get us safely inside before slamming the door shut with my foot. Standing in the hallway, unsure of what to do next, I try to decide which room I should take her but when Katniss starts to whimper in pain again, my legs move responsively and I’m taking double steps upstairs towards my bedroom.

After laying her as gently as I can face down on my bed, I nervously bite my thumbnail and pace around the room needing a minute to think this through.

Cleaning her wounds is the most logical first step which means removing my now blood-soaked apron from her back and when I do, my stomach heaves at the bloody sight. But Katniss needs me to be strong for the both of us, so I sprint to the adjoining bathroom and splash water on my face to calm myself down then take a few deep breaths before washing my hands thoroughly.

I carefully clean each wound with a damp cloth, making sure to refill the bowl several times with clean tepid water. As gentle as I have tried to be, Katniss grimaces with each dab and my heart sinks further with every pitiful moan she lets out.

When I’m satisfied the wounds are cleaned to the best of my ability, I place a muslin cloth covered with a thin layer of crushed ice cubes on top.

There’s always a tray of ice cubes at the bakery in case one of us burns our hands from the ovens and it helps numb the pain a little, but it also lessens the chance of swelling and painful blisters forming. Although this is nothing remotely like a small burn from the ovens, I figured it might do some good while I wait rather impatiently for Haymitch to bring the medicine.

What is taking him so long?

I know I’m flying off the seat of my pants with all of this healing stuff but as I watch Katniss for any sign of discomfort, the coolness of the ice seeping through the cloth seems to have a soothing effect on her. I assure myself this can only be a good thing and for the first time today, I breathe out a sigh of relief.

Now that I have that critical part under control, there’s no sense in putting off what I’ve been anguishing over for the last few minutes.

Although nudity has never been an issue with me, I know Katniss has always been self-conscious about that sort of thing and I can’t stop thinking how she must have felt as her shirt was ripped from her body in front of Thread and his men, not to mention every citizen in Twelve. She wouldn’t want anyone seeing her naked…except for maybe Gale of course, but under these circumstances I hope she can forgive me for what I’m about to do.

I apologise profusely but she doesn’t complain and offers a slurred “s-kay” as I carefully remove her trousers and then the rest of her soiled clothing including her undergarments. With a clean cloth, I gently wash her skin and the dried blood from her hair with warm water mixed with a few drops of lavender oil my stylist Portia gifted me, amongst other luxury items in her care package.

“Just a few drops in your bath will help relax and soothe your aches and pains…and it smells divine,” I can almost hear her saying.

Once that’s done, I cover the lower part of her body with a fresh linen bedsheet and it doesn’t go unnoticed how thin she’s become. I tell myself I should go to Katniss’ house and grab some clean clothes for her to change into, so I start to make a mental list in my head of some things I think she’ll need.

A sudden loud knock stops my thoughts and has me almost flying downstairs to let Haymitch in.

“Were you making the fucking stuff?” I curse loudly as I fling the door open only to find the Mayor��s daughter, Madge Undersee standing on the other side, cheeks flushing bright pink.

“I’m really sorry Madge, I thought you were Haymitch,” I say, my cheeks heat with embarrassment as I move to the side and gesture for her to come inside, but she shakes her head.

“I need to get back home before I’m missed,” she tells me before handing me a small tin box.

“You’ll find a syringe in there…give it to Katniss straight away. It’s a sedative and will knock her out probably until morning, but it will take the edge off the worst of the pain. There’s also a Capitol grade salve which the peacekeepers use to help fight infection as well as having quick healing properties and from what I saw today, she’ll need every bit. There’s not much but a little goes a long way, just make sure you save a little for yourself,” she says, pointing to my shoulder, and when I take a look there’s a rip in my shirt and a streak of dried blood that I completely forgot about until now.

One thing’s for sure, no matter how many lashes I would have received if Haymitch hadn’t arrived when he did, Katniss would always come first and there is no way I would ever think of using any of this salve on myself. I nod anyway, thanking Madge for her kindness and go to close the front door, eager to run upstairs to give Katniss the medicines.

“I’ll do my best to get you some more,” she tells me.

“Thank you.”

Madge turns to leave but stops at the bottom of the steps, “I just want you to know…what you did back there, even when you thought Katniss was dead. That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do for the one they love. I wish I had someone to love me that way.”

I don’t say anything, offering only a smile in response before Madge turns and starts her way back to town.

“Stay alert!” she shouts before reaching the Victors’ Village gates.

Between Haymitch and now Madge with all of this stay alert stuff leaves me puzzled and somewhat curious, but there’s no time to figure out what it is I’m supposed to stay alert for when I hear Katniss scream.

“Peeta!”

I’m up the stairs and by her side in double time and try to calm her while she screams at whoever to let her go. It must be the peacekeepers who found her or maybe Thread before he laid the first painful lash to her back and hopefully not me, but I can’t be sure.

“Shshsh…It was just a bad dream…it’s not real,” I whisper as I gently stroke my hand over her still damp hair. 

“Peeta!” she cries out again.

“I’m right here,” I hush, and she holds onto me tight.

“He lied! You have to believe me!” her frantic words making no sense.

“You need to rest,” I tell her, too concerned all this jostling about may have caused her wounds to reopen and bleed again to try and make sense of what she’s saying. “I won’t let Thread near you ever again.”

“You don’t understand— AHH! It hurts,” she cries out, the pain stopping her from finishing whatever it was she was trying to say. 

“I know it does and I’ve got you something to help with the pain, but it will make you sleepy,” I say, stroking her hair with one hand to reassure her, the other still holding onto the tin box tightly.

Katniss begins to shake her head, “no…I don’t want sleep syrup…please Peeta, not that,” she pleads with me, making me wonder what’s making her react this way.

“I promise it’s not sleep syrup, but you need to hold still…can you do that for me?” I ask, laying her back down on the bed and covering her naked body again with the bedsheet.

I explain the medicine came from the Mayor’s daughter and show Katniss the tin box which seems to ebb her concerns long enough for me to remove it from the box. I’ve never done this before but neither did Katniss when we were in the cave and as soon as that thought crosses my mind, any hesitation I had passes and I’m injecting her arm with the clear liquid.

A few anxious seconds later and the chemical concoction in the syringe is beginning to work as Katniss loosens the tight grip she has on my arm. Her face takes on a relaxed look and her breathing begins to even out and thankfully starts to drift off to what I hope will be a pain free sleep.

Even though I know Katniss can’t hear me, I speak to her softly and let her know everything will be okay as I brush her hair gently away from her face. It’s then I decide to try my hand at braiding to keep any loose strands of hair away from her back, especially before I apply the salve.

It takes a few attempts as my fat fingers fumble with her hair but she hasn’t uttered a word of complaint and sleeps contently throughout my braiding failures.

The medicine is really working fast.

Lost in thought, I almost forgot entirely about the salve and reach for the tin box again to grab the small jar and unscrew the lid. When I see how little is in there, I try not to let the disappointment show on my face.  

Madge wasn’t exaggerating, but it must be potent stuff if this is all you get.

I dip my finger into the jar and gently apply the clear gel-like salve sparingly over the deepest gashes first then the lesser ones until most of Katniss’ back is covered with a thin sticky layer. I draw in a breath with every touch I place on her open wounds as I carefully spread the salve to ensure each raised welt is treated with an even amount of healing medicine.

As careful as I have been, the jar is empty and I can only hold out hope that Haymitch or Madge can get their hands on another.

***

I watch as Katniss sleeps and having her so close to me for the first time since The Victory Tour ended feels like a luxury. But I’m quick to remind myself this is only a temporary arrangement born out of necessity and I’m probably the last person she would want taking care of her.

I can’t allow myself to get too attached. Katniss will leave the moment she’s well enough.

My mind can’t seem to stop going over the events of today. Dad finally telling me the truth; mother and Delly and everything they did and said; almost losing my mind at the sight of Katniss tied to the whipping post thinking she was dead; Haymitch coming to our rescue. Every detail replaying in my head with one puzzling thought sticking out from the rest.

I move the armchair closer to the bed and reach my hand over to Katniss and instinctively start to gently smooth my fingers down her braid, trying to sort things in my head. So lost am I in the calmness it brings me, my voice follows my thoughts and blurts out the one question troubling me since this morning.

“People said you ran away, but you come back. Why?” I ask softly not expecting Katniss to answer.

“Couldn’t leave you behind,” she utters, her words sounding slurred.

***

She came back…for me.

I rolled her words around in my head through the night and finally convinced myself that it was the medicine talking and to stick to the things I know to be true.

Katniss pushed me out of her life to be with Gale and if that wasn’t bad enough, she planned their escape from Twelve with their families without a single thought of me. Their plan succeeded but for whatever the reason, she came back and that decision almost cost her life.

Could she be a rebel spy?

No! I refuse to entertain that absurd notion and push it right out of my head.

I wrestled with my thoughts for hours before giving up exhausted from the mind battle and even managed to doze off at some point during the night. Sleep didn’t last long and I woke up gasping for breath from my usual nightmare of running in the endless darkness desperately searching for Katniss as she calls my name over and over until her voice fades away.

I’m not sure how or when it happened but at some point during the night, my hand found hers. I must have reached out for her in my sleep, but I tell myself it’s okay and it’s not like she’ll remember much of the past 24 hours anyway. She’s safe and sleeping soundly in my bed and there’s a happy look on her face.

***

Sitting back in my chair, it takes a few minutes for my heart to stop pounding. There’s no use trying to fall back to sleep, it’s almost dawn anyway. So, I slowly untangle our fingers and decide to take a quick shower and change into clean clothes before heading downstairs to prepare some light meals for Katniss.

Dad will understand why I’m not turning up for work today and besides…I don’t think I’m ready to face my mother just yet.

The pot of broth I made for Katniss earlier simmers on the stove top and its delicious smell along with the freshly baked bread just out of the oven, permeates the air. I’m hoping when Katniss wakes, she’ll have an appetite and remembering how she liked to eat a simple breakfast, I made sure to include her favourites.

I’m busily preparing a breakfast tray to take upstairs when I hear a knock at the front door. I smile thinking it must be Madge with more salve or maybe Haymitch who I haven’t seen since he ran off yesterday.

Maybe I’ll finally get some answers.

When I go to answer the door, I’m taken by surprise at the sight of Delly, who let herself in and is standing by the kitchen doorway wearing a rather low-cut dress I’ve never seen before.

Far from the reaction I’m sure she was hoping to get from me, the smile on my face drops. I can’t think of anyone I want to see less right now…apart from my mother.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, with a tone of displeasure.

Delly moves from the doorway and steps slowly towards me, “is that anyway to greet me? You didn’t come to see me last night and I missed you,” she proclaims, gazing around the kitchen until her eyes fall on the food tray set on the table.

“Did you seriously expect me to after you tried to keep what was happening to Katniss from me?” I explain rather coldly.

She steps into the kitchen, swaying her body and smoothing her hands over her dress, “of course I did! You always come by after dinner, nothing has to change because of that silly girl. I’m still your fiancée after all…or have you forgotten?”

It seems I have.

I thought I made myself abundantly clear my future was mine to decide and it doesn’t include Delly, but by the way she just labelled our friendship…it appears I wasn’t clear enough.

“Delly—”

“You hurt my feelings and all I was trying to do was stop you from getting yourself killed. I know you didn’t mean all those things you said, it was all a big shock and you weren’t thinking straight,” she says. “We all say and do things we regret and are sorry for later, but everything turned out okay in the end. I’ve decided to forgive you and put yesterday behind us,” she adds, inching closer to me.

“I’m not seeking your forgiveness and I don’t regret what I did…I’d do it again if I knew Katniss was in danger,” I say, in no uncertain terms.

“This isn’t The Hunger Games, “she says with a snap. “You made it back home alive and now you have responsibilities and a future to plan and under the circumstances, it would be best if someone else took over caring for Katniss now.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that sounded like something my mother would say and I’m not prepared to listen to this any longer. It’s time I spoke up and set things straight.

“I will be caring for Katniss until she’s well…and exactly who would it be best for?” I question, unable to hide my annoyance by her comments. 

Delly glares at me and her cheeks begin to flush red with anger, her expression taking on a different look far from the one she wore when she first walked in.

“I’m sure your drunken mentor can take over. Isn’t that part of his job?”

“No…and don’t talk about him that way. If it wasn’t for Haymitch, Katniss and I would both be dead by now,” I retort.

“You wouldn’t have been in that position if you listened to your mother and me! We tried to warn you to stay away from the square. You almost got yourself killed and right now…you’re being vulgar and unfair about all of this Peeta,” Delly pouts like a spoilt child. “And I didn’t come here to argue with you,” she says in the same breath.

I clench my teeth recalling how everyone treated me as though I was a child and assumed it was best if I was kept in the dark about Katniss and it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“I don’t want to argue either,” I admit truthfully, and this brings a smile to Delly’s face. “But I think you and I need to sit down and have a serious talk,” I tell her, pulling out a chair and motioning for her to sit.

Delly nods and flicks her long blonde locks away from her shoulders in a boastful kind of way before stepping beside me and as she does, brushes her fingers up and down my arm. I step back and move to the opposite side of the table and take a seat. When she reaches out her hands for me to hold, I don’t take them. 

It’s plain to see what Delly was hoping to gain from this visit and although this isn’t going to be easy for either of us, she needs to hear what I have to say without her conveniently changing the subject. She needs to understand how I feel and how things can no longer go on as they have. If nothing else, Delly deserves my complete honesty.

I take a deep breath not really knowing where to begin, “we seem to have different views on our relationship status,” I start.

She gives me a cold stare and moves her lips to respond, but I’m determined to speak first before she has a chance to turn the conversation around as she so often does.

“Here me out first before you say anything,” I tell her. She rolls her eyes and lets out a huff in petty annoyance, but I allow myself to continue.

“It was my mother who planned for us to meet under the guise of a neighbourly dinner invitation between our two families, but I’m sure you were aware of her plans,” I say and Delly nods. “Mother had been telling me for weeks to move on with my life and when I finally agreed with her, she took it upon herself to make the arrangements without bothering to ask if I was okay with it…

It was awkward, but I thought it would be nice to have a friend I could talk to. Someone I thought I could trust. I did enjoy being in your company and your friendship helped me feel a little less lonely, but it soon became clear to me you were expecting more than friendship and I’m sorry I wasn’t totally honest with you from the beginning. I guess what I’m trying to say is with everything moving as fast as it did, I didn’t know how to react to your advances,” I finally finish saying.

“Well…” Delly sniggers, “I seem to remember you having no problems reacting to my kisses.”

A thump coming from upstairs distracts us both and it definitely sounded like it came from my bedroom. Katniss must be waking which means I need to finish making breakfast and check on her wounds. The rest of this awkward conversation will have to wait for another day and so I move from my seat, ready to ask Delly to leave when I’m stumped by her next comment.

“…in fact, you enjoyed our kisses so much, even your body reacted to them,” she adds voicing it rather loudly.

I hear sounds of movement coming from upstairs and my concern for Katniss intensifies. Without a moment’s thought of how hurtful my words may come across, I’m mouthing them, “if my body was reacting it would be to the image of me kissing someone else’s lips,” I tell her and the smugness on Delly’s face drops. In that moment I regret being so forward, but I see no sense in hiding behind the truth even though honesty can hurt sometimes.

“No matter how hard I’ve tried to forget and move on with my life, I can’t shake her image from my mind…and before you say anything, I know Katniss will never feel the same way about me. But I can’t change how I feel…how I’ve always felt about her and for that I’m truly sorry for leading you on and giving you false hope. It wasn’t my intention.”

Delly shakes her head and reaches for a handkerchief tucked conveniently inside the bustline of her dress to wipe away a tear, but I forge on.

“Yesterday made me realise more than ever, how pointless it is to think I can move on…not when I still feel this way about her.”

Delly slams the table with clenched fists, “How can you say that after everything Katniss Everdeen has done to you. I watched all those broadcasts and saw how you were being manipulated and used by her. She was probably praying you’d eat those berries first so she could claim victory all on her own. Seam only think of themselves!” she practically yells.

I look at Delly…really look at her and for the first time I see a side of her that has been kept well-hidden underneath that bubbly, kind and easy-going demeanour.

“Being Seam or Merchant didn’t matter in the arena. We were just two kids from Twelve trying to keep each other alive. And if your comments were a way to hurt me then it’s probably what I deserve after everything I’ve done.”

“I would never hurt you, not like Katniss has. I’m trying to get you to understand how you’ve wasted practically your whole life fantasising over her and what have you gotten in return?” Delly questions with one breath and answers with the next. “Heartache and pain! She’ll never give you the things I know you’ve always wanted. You could never trust her to be faithful, but I would be,” she says, reaching her hand out to me. “You and I…we can be the perfect little family and I can help you run the bakery, give you strong and healthy sons. All I’m asking is for you try harder to see things my way, the way they should be. In time, that Seam girl will be a distant memory and you’ll finally see I was the right choice all along.”

I shake my head, knowing there will never be a reality to Delly’s hopes and dreams, “do you really want someone who has to try?” I ask, but she doesn’t offer anything in reply.

“From everything you’ve just said, there’s one important fact in all of this you haven’t mentioned,” Delly looks at me with a puzzled look. “We don’t love each other.”

A few seconds of silence pass before Delly speaks, “that’s true, we don’t…but you know as well as I do, Merchant pairings are arranged for good reason. It’s always been that way and I don’t know of anyone actually marrying for love…not at first. My parents certainly didn’t and neither did yours,” she says, and her words ring true.

I’ve never seen my parents kiss much less give each other a loving embrace or show any sort of real affection towards each other. Merchant marriages are simply deemed a satisfactory match by families who would gain the most financially, especially shop keepers without male heirs to take over their business.

“I could never commit myself to anyone in that way…good or otherwise. If I ever marry, it will be for love,” I confess.

“Maybe in time, we can learn to love each other. I do have feelings for you, isn’t that enough?” Delly asks.

“Not for me,” I answer truthfully.

Delly clenches her fists again and it’s clear she’s not happy with my response, “Do you think coming to Katniss’ rescue will make any difference to her? She will never love you the way you want. Are you blind to see it has always been Gale Hawthorne for her? What do you think she’s been doing with him since you both came back…probably even before the reaping? The only difference is they do it in the woods like wild animals instead of the slag heap!” she yells, scrapping the floor with the legs of her chair as she pushes it back to stand in a fit of anger.

I’m taken back by her scornful words that seemed echoed from a familiar source and I’ve heard enough.

“You need to leave now,” I instruct. “I don’t think there’s anything left for either of us to say.”

She tries to argue her point, but I’m done listening and get up from my chair and walk through to the hallway and open the front door as an obvious hint for her to leave. The time for subtleties is over and it takes a moment for Delly to accept our conversation has ended and the outcome wasn’t anywhere near what she had first hoped for.

As Delly walks towards the door, she stops and looks up to the stairs leading to the bedrooms where I’m sure she knows Katniss is sleeping.

“It was a simple plan really,” she says, her eyes still focused upstairs. “All I had to do was get you to have sex with me until I was sure. It worked for your mother and she said it would work for me too.”

I stand motionless with my mouth gaped open, completely stunned by her admission. It’s no secret why my parents are together. It would have been scandalous if dad hadn’t married my mother after she told him she was pregnant with my oldest brother. The fact my mother spoke to Delly and suggested she deceive me in the same way is beyond belief.

“You need to leave and not come back here again,” I tell Delly.

“But—”

“You planned and schemed with my mother and all this time I thought I was the one being dishonest. I can’t believe you would stoop to her level and use deception as a means to get me to what…marry you?”

What I think may be genuine tears start to flow down her cheeks, I find myself unaffected by them and stand at the front door waiting for Delly to leave.

“It was wrong…I know that now but seeing as we’re being open and honest with each other, we can start all over,” she pleads.

“Start over? As what…friends? I’m afraid it’s too late for even that now.”

Delly looks out to the pathway then turns her head to me, “I just don’t get it. At school, there were so many girls lining up for the chance to be your girl, me included, but you weren’t interested in anyone except Katniss Everdeen. She never even gave you the slightest indication she was interested in you, yet you continued to swoon over her and I never understood what she had above us all…I still don’t.”

No one could ever hold a candle to Katniss but how do I explain the depth of my feelings when I don’t understand it fully myself. All I know is it has no bounds and if I were to find enough words to define it, they would be for Katniss’ ears to hear only.

“Maybe one day you will.”

“You’re a romantic fool Peeta Mellark,” Delly says as she takes the first step out of my house. “Katniss will break your heart again the moment she heals. She’ll sneak out of Twelve the first chance she gets and run into the waiting arms of Gale Hawthorne…and his bed.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Then why do you still care for her so much?”

Because I can’t let her go.

But I don’t say it and although I wouldn’t say our conversation has been fruitless, there’s already been too much time spent talking when I should have been checking on Katniss instead.

There’s only one thing I have left to say to Delly and I seriously hope she takes heed to my words, “if I can give you one piece of advice to take with you today it would be to forget everything my mother ever told you and never listen to people like her again.”

I’m half-expecting Delly to argue the point but she gives a curt nod and wipes the tears from her eyes. I know this is the conversation we should have had weeks ago but now with everything said and done, it feels like a huge weight has just been lifted from my shoulders.

Delly takes a moment, I guess to let everything sink in before taking another step and stops to look upstairs one last time, “your true love doesn’t deserve you,” she sniffs then starts her walk back to town.

“Goodbye Delly,” I say to myself, closing the door gently behind me and making sure to turn the lock this time.

…tbc

[haloud]

into the corners of the evening

-- ao3 --

Michael comes over on Fridays. It’s a standing arrangement, an inch of solid ground they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. Sometimes he cooks dinner. Sometimes Alex orders in. They play music or play cards or watch movies or make out, hands over clothes, Michael making sure to bump his knuckles across whatever bare skin he can find anyway, just like they might have if they were ever allowed to be just seventeen.

So Fridays start being the best day of the week. Even Buffy looks forward to them—the second the sun starts going down, she sits in the entryway with her ears cocked and her tail beating slowly against the floor until she hears footsteps on the stairs and picks herself up to corral Michael home. When it’s just Alex and Buffy, Alex even lets himself be eager too, smile at nothing, daydream.

Of course, then it just so happens that a Friday turns into one of the worst days in recent memory. He wakes up in stiff agony from a shitty, awful dream, early enough to be stuck staring at the pitch-black ceiling, late enough that he can’t fall back asleep. He keeps his phone and headphones on his nightstand and an array of playlists—angry, sad, happy, wistful, the works—to drive thoughts out of his head and mask noise that makes it hard to sleep, but no matter how high he turns up the volume, the dream persists, the sound of screaming, the sound of crushing bone. His stump is fucking swollen, which just fucking happens sometimes no matter how he fucking tries to take care of it, and it hurts so goddamn bad he should just stay in bed, but he goes to work anyway just to spite his own body and the universe that thinks it can tell him what to do.

Icing on the cake? When he finally grits his teeth and puts weight on his leg (with his crutch—he might be a being of pure spite, but he’s not stupid), he steps hard on Buffy’s foot, making her shriek and scramble under the bed.

By the time Alex has made himself coffee and is ready to leave she’s crawled out to follow him around licking at his hands, but he still spends the whole drive to base with a death-grip on the wheel and aching at the back of his throat.

And that’s just how his morning goes.

When he pulls back into his driveway that evening, he’s so bone-tired he has to close his eyes and breathe and breathe like he breathed his way through physical therapy just to muster the strength to open the door and put his feet on the ground.

He fumbles his keys. Drops them. And before he knows it he’s slammed his fist into the doorframe, a fast and hot expulsion of fury from his brain to his arm to his knuckles at the point of contact.

He’s shaking when he picks them up. Unlocks the door. Lets it fall shut behind him.

Anger is the easy answer. It’s served him well damn near all his life. It lives inside him, less a tenant to his landlord, more a symbiosis. But when he collapses on his couch, shakes his hand out before cradling his head in it, he just—he just—

He should tell Michael not to come. He should ignore that little voice whispering he only loves you because you’re here, tell him no and he’ll be gone, gone against all evidence and faith.

He loves his anger. Keeps it, nurtures it. But still, is he—he is—he’s Manes enough to fear what that anger is capable of.

Buffy pads over, her claws making little clicking noises on the floor. Michael loves that sound, has been known to lay on the floor cooing to her so she walks over to him and he can mess with her paws while she sits all prim and patient and indulging. She lays her head on Alex’s knee and blinks up at him, and he looks through his fingers back at her. Her tongue slowly peeks out—then she’s licking his jeans, soothing him the best way a dog knows how, and Alex is inches from goddamn losing it.

Footsteps on the stairs. Buffy’s ears perk up, but she doesn’t move, just lets out a quiet boof as Alex strokes her velvety ears.

“It’s open,” he calls out. Almost hoping he’s too quiet for Michael to hear and he’ll just…leave. Tomorrow Alex can deal with the fallout.

But no. The door swings open, and a grinning Michael, the whole mass of him, filling the doorway, taking all the air in the room with him, he steps inside and shakes out his curls like he often does when he sees Alex, like he knows, like he knows what it does to him.

“Where’s the welcoming committee—”

He cuts himself off when he sees Alex and Buffy. His grin slides off his face; his eyes go all big; his head tilts to the side. It’s not a bad Buffy impression.

“Hey,” Michael says, so softly Alex wants to scream.

He isn’t. A person who responds to softness well. Never had it before—why should he need it now? For just a second, he misses, with a vicious, spiteful nostalgia, the jagged, rattling Guerin who’d take him on no matter what they did or said the last time, the bite and bark, they’d fuck and that would be that, that could be that, he had a place within himself to put the soft things, deep in the back of his skull.

He keeps the soft things inside Michael, mostly, now. But sometimes he wishes he could snatch them back. Run and hide. Even if it meant drawing more blood.

“Hey,” Alex responds, voice carefully flat.

Michael hesitates before going to take his boots off, eyes flicking up, then down to fidget with the laces, then up again, then down, just waiting for Alex to tell him to go. Alex hates that too. Hates the echo calling him pathetic in the back of his mind, needy and clinging and weak, and god, Alex is just so fucking tired. Of all of it. Of the job where he’s surrounded by people he can’t stand, constantly reminded of his father, of war, of grief and murder. Of the brain that won’t let him get a good night’s sleep and tortures him with words he’d never say out loud. Of every inch of his body that hurts, of what’s been taken from him, of the fight to get it to function on days like today, clawing his bloody way up the slope.

Michael straightens back up. Rolls up onto the balls of his feet, like he might into a kiss. Nods to himself, then Alex blinks his heavy eyes, and Michael is there, inches from him, eyes green and gold and warm. Alex imagines he can already feel the bathwater body heat Michael always supplies, sinking into his skin better than any heating pad or hot soak.

“Bad day?”

“You could say that.”

Buffy shifts her head on Alex’s knee; she stands, sits, licks Alex a couple more times, her eyes staring soulfully up at Michael. Michael ducks his head on a little laugh and pats her head with a good girl.

Michael sits on the arm of the couch and slowly, so slowly, giving Alex all the time in the world to pull away, reaches over to stroke the back of his fingers against Alex’s temple. “Hey. What can I do? Anything, I’m yours.”

“Just.” Alex takes a deep breath. Can’t look at him. “I’m sorry. For whatever I do tonight. You probably shouldn’t have come. I’m going to be shit company.”

“We’re both here. I think we can make something out of that no matter the circumstances, yeah?”

How can Michael just say things like that, every time? It isn’t fair. Especially when there are so many ways he could be proven wrong. So many ways Alex knows how to hurt him, to tear down everything they’re building.

“I’m gone if you want me gone; I’ll give you the space, but you’ve gotta say it. And it’s okay if you do. It’s not like before.”

Michael’s fingers make another slow pass, lingering this time, his thumb gentle on the shell of Alex’s ear, making him shiver at that delicate touch.

Selfish. It’s selfish to want Michael here  even though he’s bound to end up snapping at him, but—would it be so bad? To be selfish? Michael is a caretaker; it’s plain in the way he is with Isobel, even when he takes it too far. It’s plain in the way he keeps candy and coloring books stashed in his Airstream for the occasional kid dragged along by a parent getting their car fixed. And it’s never been more obvious than it is right now, with him practically vibrating to be allowed to take care of Alex.

Hell, maybe this is something Alex can, in some twisted way, do for Michael, too. Make something out of this shitty day.

“I want you to stay,” he manages, voice still flat, but it makes Michael light up regardless, and hell if it isn’t worth it.

“Thank you,” Michael says, and he nuzzles in to peck their lips together. Alex doesn’t let him get away, though, and weaves his fingers into those curls to hold him close for a longer, searching kiss that has Michael humming with joy by the time he pulls away. Alex could hold him tighter. Keep him in place longer. Pull him this way or that, and Michael would go. Something in Alex just settles and purrs at that knowledge.

“I’ll make dinner and bring it to you. Couch or bed?”

“Hmm.” Alex twists a curl around his finger as he considers the question. It’s tempting to just go to bed, get through his nightly routine, and try and forget this day ever happened. But if he stays here on the couch, he has a clear line of sight into the tiny kitchen, where he can watch Michael cooking, hyperactive and hectic, bouncing from counter to cabinet to fridge to stove and back again, Buffy alert and bobbing and weaving at his feet for any scraps. “Couch,” he says, “but I’m not really hungry. Just…sit for a while.”

Michael obeys easily, sliding himself onto the couch beside Alex, urging him to sit back and relax with his broad, warm hand rubbing across Alex’s shoulders and back, taking the tension there with him.

“Go ahead and take your leg off,” he says, eyes shining, “I’ll take care of it. You. Everything.”

So Alex does, and by the time he’s done, a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers has arrived on the side table. Alex takes two, and then Michael coaxes him into laying his legs over his lap, his one hand gently stroking the remainder leg, mindful of its sensitivity and swelling, and the other massaging his sore foot. So talented with his hands Alex tips his head back, lets his eyes shut, and groans his approval.

Minutes later, he opens his eyes again, and he sees—

Michael in profile, his curls messy across his forehead, his eyes hooded as he looks down to watch himself work, soothing a pain Alex hadn’t even realized he was carrying. So content he’s almost smug. A little smile on his face. It’s so simple, a tiny act of love, of service, but it makes a change in Michael. Makes him softer. And this time, anger left sated and silent within him, Alex can be happy about that.

The electric kettle goes off in the kitchen, sudden and hissing, and Alex jumps at the sound.

“Just me,” Michael murmurs, stroking his hand up to Alex’s hip, looking up at him through his lashes with that same contented smile. A couple moments later, a mug floats out of the kitchen and into Alex’s hands. His favorite tea. His favorite mug—one Maria made for him at one of those paint your own dish birthday parties when they were eight. And Michael, bending over to kiss the back of his hand, not even asking for a thank you.

“I.” Alex has to cough, take a swallow of tea, or else he might get choked up. “Had a really bad day.”

It’s stupid—Alex feels a little stupid for repeating himself. Like it’s not obvious. Like he’s some little kid begging for reassurance.

But Michael just says, “Yeah.” And leans over to mush a kiss to Alex’s shoulder, still cradling his legs so carefully in his lap so Alex doesn’t get jostled by his movement. “Thank you for letting me share this part of it. And maybe do a little bit to make the night less shit.”

And Alex strokes his hair, pets him ‘til he’s purring, sleepy eyes still alert enough to watch Alex with fond focus.

“You have,” he says, “you already have.”

[readyourimgaines]

Chapter Four: Deeper Truths

I’m still getting notes on these so I’m going to keep posting them until someone tells me to stop. I plan for chapter five to be a light, filler so there won’t be drama in that on. Always, thank you to @thatbarricade. And the tag-list: @iamnotbrianmay @board-certifiedbastard @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood

“I think you’re the only person I know that actually drinks Snapple.” Grantaire handed the bottle to the blond and placed his own ice tea in the cupholder.

“I don’t always drink it. It’s good though, like an odd mix between tea and juice.” Enjolras took the cap off the bottle. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” Grantaire started his truck and pulled out of the gas station parking lot. “How’d you feel about the Musain?”

“Well, the work went better than I expected, so that was great. The people are friendly. I don’t think I’ll mind working there. I just can’t stand the sound the steam thing makes though. It’s so high pitched.”

“Yeah… You’ll get used to that. It takes a bit, but after a while, it’s just another instrument in the whole symphony, you know?”

“Did you want to talk about something, or could you just not sleep?” Enjolras glanced at R as he took another sip.

“I did want to talk about something with you. Kind of like a little boost. There are going to be times when you feel alone, given the circumstances, and I want you to know that you don’t need to feel that way.

“Yeah, you’re living in a house with other gay men who are constantly hosting a bunch of other gays. That’s all great, but there are going to be times when you feel out of place. When Ferre’s mom calls him on his birthday or whenever; Courf’s brother coming to visit from out of town. It’s going to feel lonely.”

“What are you-”

“Remember when Bossuet said he bet my father regretted the boxing classes he signed me up for?” R asked.

“Yeah.” Enjolras nodded.

“My coming out story wasn’t too much different from yours. My father drank a lot so I had the-the ridiculous idea that coming out to him when he was drunk was going to be easier than coming out to him when he was sober. Because then he might have forgotten, and then if I ever had a boy over I could tell him that I’d told him and he’d forgotten.

“He tried hitting me but couldn’t really because of the boxing classes I’d been going to since I was... fourteen? I was sixteen at this point. He kept trying to hit me and...and I knocked him out so I could get out of there without getting beaten. I was gone by the time my mother got home from work, and she was able to piece things together. Haven’t heard from either of them since.”

“Shit,” Enjolras breathed.

“I’m not- I’m not telling you this to scare you. I promise that’s not what I’m trying to do, alright?” Grantaire’s grip on the stick shift tightened, his knuckles turning white. “I’m telling you so you know that whatever goes down with your parents, whether they take you back or not, send you a Christmas card, whatever the fuck happens, you aren’t going to be alone. If Ferre and Courf spend a holiday with Ferre’s family, we can stay and hang out, go on a road trip or something. Just you and me.”

“You haven’t been alone like this, have you?” Enjolras’s eyes were wide.

“Nah. Feuilly doesn’t have a family either. He wasn’t disowned or anything, his family was just as unlucky as the Kennedys.” R’s chuckled was forced. “Yeah. He and I have spent a lot of time together. Eponine, Gav, and I usually have our own little Christmas and Easter celebrations, too. We don’t exactly have faith in that stuff, Gav’s just ten so we want him growing up with the stuff we didn’t get to but all our friends did.”

Enjolras slowly nodded. “I only thought stories like ours happened on Degrassi or in Troy Sivan music videos.”

“I thought you were sheltered.” This laugh was natural.

“I have a phone.” Enjolras laughed. “I might not know much about magic and all that, but I did my reading before coming to the conclusion that I’m gay. I’m only gay in theory, anyway.”

“Have you seen Glee?”

“Too many times. It’s still Jehan’s favourite show. They found it through their friend, Cosette, and they showed me because Kurt’s gay and they fell in love with Unique and Coach Beaste.”

“How amazing would be if everyone’s parents responded to their kid’s coming out like Burt did? I mean, shit. Just ‘ya sure?’ and that’s it? I wish.”

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not too broken up over my parents kicking me out. I know I should be, I just… I’m not. I’m not their picture-perfect dress up doll anymore. No more posed family pictures in front of the fireplace, then my father yelling at my mom the second the cameraman's out the door. I don’t have to be tucked under the covers watching MacDoesIt with earbuds in and praying to God my father doesn’t walk in.

“If they hadn’t kicked me out, I wouldn’t have this job, I wouldn’t have met the...four I did... I’ll remember their names in like ten minutes. I wouldn’t have met you. Forget my parents. They lost a son and I’ve got new friends so, honestly, they lost. I didn’t.”

“That’s the way I try to look at it. I met Feuilly at a shelter...thing…and he introduced me to Joly and Bossuet. Joly introduced me to Ferre, Ferre was already dating Courf.”

“How do you know Eponine?”

“Her parents owned my dad’s favourite pub. My mom worked there with them.”

Enjolras let out a laugh that was more of an exhale. He felt something akin to disbelief, yet another weight was lifted off his back.

“It’s weirdly relieving to know I’m not the only one. I-I feel bad because I wish you didn’t go through all that, but…”

“No, no. I get you’re saying. It’s why I told you. Sure we haven’t known each other for long, but we’re more alike than you’re probably willing to admit. I’m all kinds of fucked up and, no offence, but you probably will be too. But the friends we’ve got? They don’t care and they make the shitty things in life manageable. Somehow.”

“I don’t know, R. I think we’re doing pretty good for a couple of ‘fucked-up’ kids, don’t you? I’ve only had one panic attack since I was kicked out. You aren’t drunk all the time trying to force yourself to forget.”

“No. I’m never touching that shit. I saw what it did to my parents and I just- No. I’m 19, almost 20, I’d rather not have liver failure by the time I’m 40.”

“Then yeah, I’d say we’re doing pretty good.”

Testing his luck, trying something new, he rested his hand on R’s, which was still tightly gripping the stick shift. A smile tugged at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth and his knuckles relaxed, returning to their natural colour.

*****

Combeferre woke from his slumber and looked around the dim bedroom. He lifted his phone from the nightstand, squinting at the brightness of the screen. 4:32. Untangling himself from Courfeyrac, he took a few seconds to pat the other’s untamable curls, trying to soothe him back to sleep when he stirred. He slipped his phone in the pocket of his shorts— the pair he’d never wear outside the house- and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Walking into the hall, he smiled to himself when he noticed the small moth by the hall light. The smile only widened when he entered the living room and saw Enjolras sound asleep on the couch, his arm hanging over the side. Grantaire was lying on the floor against the couch, their hands almost touching.

Combeferre retrieved his phone from his pocket and quickly snapped a picture of the two before going to the closet and drawing out two pillows and blankets. Enjolras would probably have his head if saw the picture, but, Combeferre thought to himself with a smile, it was totally worth it.

He knew Grantaire would claim he was fine without a pillow, but the artist’s neck would be destroyed in the morning even if he never spoke up about it. The sandy-haired man gently wormed a hand under R’s head. The instant his head was off the floor, his eyes snapped open.

“It’s just me.” Ferre flexed his fingers, softly scratching R’s scalp as he placed the pillow under his head, and eased his head back down. “I can move Enjy to his bed. You can have the couch,” he offered.

“I’m good here,” R muttered, eyes fluttering. “Thanks for the pil…”

Ferre brushed the curls back from his friend’s forehead before laying the blanket over him.

He stood and placed the second pillow under Enjolras’s head, the boy nuzzling his nose against it. Ferre was about to lay the blanket over his friend when he noticed the sneakers still on his feet. He plopped the blanket on the back of the couch and unlaced Enjolras’s shoes, setting them in the corner. Then he laid the blanket over the blond.

Enjolras opened his eyes as Combeferre adjusted a rumpled corner of the blanket that was falling off his shoulder. “Ferre?” Enjolras rubbed his eyes.

“Just woke up to get some water. Wanted to check on you.” Ferre said, his voice calm and warm. “When did R come in?”

“I don’t…one, maybe?” Enj covered his mouth as he yawned. “I swore last night.”

Ferre breathed laugh. “Tell me about in the morning. You’re tired.” He rubbed Enjolras’s head, the strands of hair sliding between his fingers like liquid gold. “Goodnight, Enjy.”

The blond leaned his head a little closer to Ferre as he kissed Enjolras’s forehead with a smile. Going to the kitchen, he took a water bottle from the cupboard, filling it at the sink before walking back to his room.

Sitting on his side of the bed, he plugged his phone back in, took a swig of water, and lay back down. He slipped back under the covers and curled into Courf’s side.

“Ferre?” Courf hummed.

“I’m here.” Combeferre smiled fondly when towards him and their noses and foreheads touching. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He flung his arm blindly, trying to find Ferre’s hand. Ferre, more awake, caught his boyfriend’s hand and entangled their fingers. “What time is it?”

“Early. The sun’s not up yet. I got up to get some water. R and Enj are sleeping in the living room. I need to show you this.” He unlocked his phone and opened the photo gallery. “I’m calling it now, they’re gonna be together before the middle of September.”

“You do know he’s 19, right?”

“So? Two years isn’t a big deal.” Ferre held the phone out to Courf.

“Okay, that is adorable,” Ferre admitted. “I’m still gonna give him shit for pinning after a minor.”

“I know you will,” Ferre chuckled as he put his phone back on the nightstand. “They both have a pillow and blanket.”

“You’re such a mother hen.” Courf wrapped his arm around Ferre’s waist and pulled the sandy-haired man closer to him, there noses touching again. “You’re amazing, though.”

“You are, too.”

*****

Enjolras woke up to his phone ringing. He patted around the couch, finding it by his hip where it had fallen out of his pocket.

“Hello?” His voice was gravelly with sleep when he spoke.

“Where are you?”

“Jehan?”

“Yeah. Where are you? I stopped by your parents’. Your father slammed the door in my face, then your mom called me and said you weren’t living there anymore. What the hell happened?”

“Oh, god.” Enjolras sat up, the blanket falling to his hips. “What time is it?” He brushed his bangs from his eyes.

“Almost nine-thirty.”

“Do you just wanna come over?”

“Where are you?”

“Do you remember where Combeferre lives?” Enjolras tilted the speaker of his phone away from his mouth to cover a yawn.

“I think so, yeah. The house on White Street?”

“Mhm. 229; the tan one. I-I’d rather explain things in person. I promise I’ll tell you what’s going on. I didn’t mean to hide anything from you, the last couple of days have been a whirlwind, you know?”

“When should I come over?”

“10:30 sound okay? I gotta get dressed and all that, tell Ferre you’re coming over. I don’t even know if he’s up.”

“I am,” Ferre called from the kitchen.

“I swear Jehan, he doesn’t really sleep.” Enjolras chuckled.

“I’ll be there in an hour. Just-just be safe, alright? I care about you.”

“I know. I promise I’m fine. Careful on your walk over. It’s a calm enough neighbourhood, but people are the worst.”

“You’re saying this to me, Enjy? I’ve got it. I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you.”

“Love you too, Jehan.”

“What’s going on with Jehan?” Ferre appeared in the doorway, a towel over his shoulder.

“They know something’s up. They stopped by my parents’ and freaked out a little… They’re coming over in a bit so I can explain everything.”

Combeferre winced at the mention of Enjolras’s parents. “They’ll understand, you know that.”

“Yeah. I’m glad R and I didn’t wake you up last night. I was hoping we wouldn’t.”

“Where’d you guys go?”

“For a drive,” R grunted from where he laid on the floor. He was laying on his stomach, face in his pillow. He sighed. “What’s the time?”

“Roughly nine-thirty,” Enjolras repeated.

“That’s gross.”

A knock sounded on the door just as Enjolras was towelling off from his shower.

“I got it!” Courf opened the door. “Jehan, right?”

“Yeah. You’re… Other ‘c’ guy that isn’t Ferre.”

“Close enough.” Courf stepped away from the door, allowing Jehan in. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

“I know I’ve seen you before,” Jehan addressed Grantaire.

“Probably. I’m Grantaire.”

“Hi.”

“Enj just got out of the shower. He’ll be a minute.” Grantaire scratched the back of his neck.

“That’s cool.” Jehan shrugged. “How’s graduation treating you?”

R shrugged. “Better than high school, I can tell you that. I’m pretty excited for classes to start actually. People taking classes because they actually want to be there? I’m in.”

“That does sound better. My art classes are sort of like that, but they can still be naggingly annoying.”

Grantaire nodded sympathetically.

“I hope college is better than high school. The university has an actual library and everything,” Ferre pitched in.

“You’re still going to be buying everything you read, though,” Jehan laughed.

“That’s probably true, yeah.”

The bathroom door opened, and Enj stepped out from the hall.

“There you are.” Jehan captured Enjolras in a tight hug.

“I told you I was alright.” Enjolras returned the hug.

“Never know with you. What happened?” Jehan took a step back and looked their friend over with weary eyes.

“Let’s talk in my room.” Enjolras took Jehan’s hand and lead them into his room, closing the door behind them. “Remember, I promise I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you; things have just been crazy.”

“I know, I can see that. I’m not upset, Enjy.”

Enjolras gave a recap of the last couple days, starting with the fight he had with his parents and ending with him and Grantaire returning from their drive, though he left out their conversation.

“And you haven’t called CPS?” Jehan’s eyes were wide.

“No. And we aren’t going to. I turn 18 in a little under a month so I’m laying low. Besides, by the time all the paperwork and everything else went through I’d be 18 anyway, so it’d be out of their control. I’d just be placed in a group home for a month. The whole thing would be a waste of time and money for everyone involved.”

“That’s...that’s… I don’t have words for this, Enj. I’m just-”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to say anything. I know it’s a mess and everything is up in the air for now, but I’m okay and I don’t mind how things are going. I’ve made new friends, I’m away from my father and I’m openly out now.”

“Oh. The ah...that curly-haired one? Grantaire, I think he said his name is? You know he’s totally into you, right?” Jehan smirked.

“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s just a friendly guy, that’s all.”

“Courfeyrac and Ferre are together, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Grantaire looks at you the way Courf looks at Ferre. He’s into you, man.”

“I’ve got work at one,” Enjolras quickly tried to change the subject. “You should come check the place out. It’s a pretty chill place.”

“Where are you working?”

“Café Musain. It’s a little coffee shop on the college campus. I think you’d like the place.”

“I’ll go with you, sure. Now come on, I wanna watch this guy check you out more.” Jehan laughed at the face Enjolras made.

“He’s not into me. I’ve known him for three days.”

“Doesn’t matter. Love is a weird thing.”

*****

Enjolras’s phone dinged and he slipped it from his pocket, checking the message. “I don’t work today, apparently.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Eponine texted and said it’s too dead for me to bother showing up.”

“I can get that with the heat,” Courfeyrac called from the kitchen. He was filling cups with ice water.

“It wasn’t this hot yesterday,” Grantaire said. “Or this morning.”

“It is July,” Combeferre reminded.

“Enj, can I get your help with something?” Jehan pulled Enjolras up from where he sat on the floor, tugging him into his room.

“What’s wrong?” Grantaire looked to Ferre when the door was closed.

“I have no idea.” Ferre shook his head. “I’m going to freeze yoghurt so we can have popsicles later.”

“Why haven’t I ever thought of that?” Grantaire flopped over on the couch so he was laying on his front again.

“Oh! R, I heard you have a crush.” Courf called with a grunt.

“You heard that from me, ya dingus.” Grantaire ruffled his curls, trying to get some of the heat out from the black mess.

“You know it’s illegal to have se-”

“Woah, Courf-” he sat up- “I never said anything about that.”

Courf laughed. “I’m not letting you live this down. He’s not even 18, man.”

“I’m hardly two years older than him. Two years isn’t a big deal. I’ll just wait ‘til he turns 18 to say anything, so you don’t lynch me in the back yard or some shit.”

“Two years isn’t bad at all, R,” Ferre encouraged.

Enjolras and Jehan came out from Enjolras’s room. Enjolras was holding a couple of bandanas, Jehan donning one of Enjolras’ baggy T-shirts.

“Can I get to the sink for a second?” Enjolras requested of Courf. The older stepped aside and Enjolras let cold water run for a few seconds before soaking the bandanas under the water flow.

“Tie this around your head.” Enjolras handed one to Courf, Jehan, and tossed the last one to Grantaire. “Keeps your dark hair cooler.”

“You’re amazing.” Grantaire sighed blissfully as he tied the knot at the nape of his neck. “Oh god does this feel good. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. It’s one of the few useful things I ever learned from my father.”

“Oh, my god.” Courf bounced on his toes. “Let’s contact the others, have Joly or Feuilly bring water-balloons and let’s fuck each other up.”

“I’m texting Joly!” Grantaire’s fingers were already flying across the screen of his phone, the pads of his fingers leaving little smudges from having tied the almost dripping bandana.

[artyblogs]

Across the Frozen Sea ch10

Star Wars the Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Barriss/Riyo

Across the Frozen Sea summary: Ahsoka, Barriss, and Riyo find themselves stranded in the Pantoran Taiga. They must get back to civilization, but the wilds are more dangerous than they realize. If the cold doesn’t get them, the locals will.

First Chapter : Previous Chapter

Chapter 10: The Frozen Sea

Barriss feels sick. She's been sick before, but she's never felt an innate sense of empty urgency that she feels now. The feeling in her hands are deadened at the wrists, like she's been sitting on them long enough for all the blood to flow out. Similarly, where her Force Sense would have billowed beyond her body to fill the immediate room and somewhat beyond, it is now contained within herself. There is her skin, and her clothes on her skin, and the cold air and snow on her face and hands, but there is nothing else. Barriss wakes up disoriented for the lack of the Force. It's like losing a limb.

The culprit is the pair of cuffs clasped around her wrists. It would be a familiar sight, only this time, the cuffs have an electrical component. Even though there is no indication of it; no mark or engraving of any kind, Barriss knows that these cuffs are Force inhibitor cuffs.

This time, Barriss lies on a plane of ice that extends out in all directions until the edges are swallowed in the gloom. Snow falls from the cloudy night sky, blanketing everything in a thick layer of frost. Barriss' cloak already has a thin crust of ice on it. Defiance and its piers are a distant landmark in the gaping expanse of the darkness surrounding her.

Ahsoka lies next to her, and Barriss is startled to find her so close. Without the Force, there is no Force Bond, and despite their physical proximity, there might as well be a chasm yawning between them. Ahsoka is also in the same Force inhibitor cuffs, but she's also draped in chains. They wrap around her shoulders, and her chest and wind down her torso until they reach her hands. Heavy padlocks keep them in place.

Before them is Riyo, who sits upright on the ice. She is cuffed and her feet and ankles are chained to a couple duracrete blocks.

Both Riyo and Ahsoka watch Sprekker Jok, but while the only sign of anger on Riyo's face is the slightest crinkle between her eyebrows, the look on Ahsoka's face is downright murderous, with her lips peeled back from her pointed teeth and her eyes wide and focused. A low growl emanates from within her chest.

Sprekker watches them all dispassionately. The remaining two bounty hunters are here too, only they are busy chipping out a hole in the ice using picks. If it were under other circumstances, it'd be impressive.

Beyond the bounty hunters are a couple hover sleds laden with more cinder blocks and chains. No doubt meant for them, judging by Riyo's example.

Riyo glares up at Sprekker, and try as she might, the subtle tremble of her shoulders betrays how frightened she really is. "Why?"

Sprekker's eyes have never been so hard and so cold. "With your death, Uncle Chi's death will be avenged."

Riyo balks. "Chairman Cho, Chairman Chi Cho, he was your uncle?"

"Yes. I'm a junior; my father was named Sprekker Jok Senior, and he was Chi Cho's illegitimate brother. They were raised together. When my father died during one of Uncle Chi's military campaigns, Uncle Chi took me in and raised me like a son."

"Should I have known that?" Riyo asks.

"No one outside the Cho family knows it. Uncle didn't formally announce the adoption and after he turned out to like me better than his actual son, the rest of the Cho family preferred to keep their distance." Sprekker scowls. "But then Uncle died. I thought that perhaps Auntie and Rommeruk would want vengeance for your treachery, but no, they didn't! Instead, Auntie suggests an alliance!"

"So it falls to you to take revenge?" Riyo asks, incredulous.

"Yes, it does! And after you're finally dead, I'll be free of this responsibility. You don't comprehend, Senator, how difficult it was to befriend you. How much patience it took, how much planning and credits I sunk into this. Nor do you understand how worthy I consider the investment. It's a relief that you and Rommeruk didn't get married after all; it'd be more difficult for me to kill my cousin's wife," Sprekker says, his face twisting into something ugly.

"Wait, that means Rommeruk really was a good guy after all?" Ahsoka asks.

Sprekker gives a short bark of surprised laughter. "Of all the questions you have…yes! My cousin is actually a pacifist and good with kids. You really should have given him a chance."

"Let the Jedi go, Sprekker. Whatever it is between us, it doesn't concern them," Riyo says.

"It is a shame that they should be collateral, but no. I'm not stupid, Riyo. I know they are the reason why you were able to escape the first time. But perhaps it is best that you escaped so that we can have a drowning now. A proper drowning for a proper Pantoran," Sprekker says.

Barriss subtly scoots over to Ahsoka and whispers, "I have a plan."

"Good, because I can't break through durasteel. What're you thinking?" Ahsoka whispers back.

"If I can get one hand free from the cuffs, it might be enough for me to use the Force and free us all."

"Yeah, okay, but how are you gonna free that hand? The bounty hunters have our lightsabers, so we can't cut them open."

Barriss grimaces. "You'll need to break my wrist."

Ahsoka pulls away, open horror on her face. "No."

"Do you have any ideas? Because I'm open to suggestions."

Ahsoka's mouth curls into a snarl, and Barriss almost retreats in alarm until she realizes that Ahsoka's truly frustrated with herself, not with Barriss and her request. Her blue eyes flicker as she tries to desperately come up with something—anything. Anything at all.

"Break my wrist instead," Ahsoka whispers.

"Can you undo all the locks at once? Because that is what you'll have to do." Anything less would turn out awful for them.

More snarling, and even some growling, but Ahsoka ultimately quiets. She must have cycled through the entire grieving process within the past second; Barriss certainly watched it play out over her face.

Barriss scoots forward again. "If there's one thing that this trip has taught me, it is that success is a sliding scale. A broken wrist is a small price to pay for our overall survival. Ahsoka, please. I wouldn't ask you to do it if I could do it myself."

Ahsoka's eyebrow marks knit together in worry, then she wriggles close and reaches out as far as the chains will let her. She holds Barriss's left hand in hers.

"Like this?" She asks, a little defeated. Her warm breath comes out against Barriss's forehead.

"Yes," Barriss whispers. A horrid, sinking feeling settles in her stomach, and she tries her best to relax.

"I'm sorry, Barriss."

"Don't you dare feel bad about this," Barriss whispers. It'd be better if there was a stick for her to bite down on, but as it is, her clothes will have to do. She tucks her chin in and bites down on the purple material of her hood.

"Ready," Barriss whispers through the cloth.

SNAP.

Barriss whimpers and recoils as Ahsoka breaks her wrist, sending sharp pain lancing through her arm. She hates this. Hates that Ahsoka did this to her. Hates that she asked her to do it. Barriss pulls her hand through the narrow pinch of the cuff until it's free.

Free. The Force cuts through the pain, tingling in her nerves and in her bones. Barriss grasps the tiny sliver of the Force she can feel and doesn't let go.

At Barriss' whimper, everyone else turns to look. Riyo gasps, and the bounty hunters start towards them, but Barriss clenches her teeth and draws in a deep breath. She closes her eyes, reaches out through the Force, and twists.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.

All the cuffs and all the padlocks clipped to the chains pop open and fall into the snow. Riyo stares down at her freed hands, her mouth open in amazement. The bounty hunters stop in their tracks, and Sprekker blanches. Ahsoka shrugs out of her chains and lets them fall into the powdered snow. Her eyes and teeth flash in the low light.

Sprekker and the bounty hunters draw their blasters, but Ahsoka reaches out and summons them from their hands and catches them. The last goes wide and skitters across the ice until it's lost in the snow. Ahsoka crushes the remaining blasters in her fists, making them crack and spark as they're warped beyond functionality.

Sprekker turns and kicks Riyo's duracrete blocks into the hole, where they disappear into the dark water with a splash. The chains that are pulled through the blocks and around Riyo's ankles aren't fastened with a lock, and they hold fast as they drag her drag her belly-down across the ice. Riyo shrieks and rakes her fingers across the surface, sending snow everywhere as she searches for a handhold, but in vain. She takes a deep breath before she's swallowed up by the sea.

Sprekker runs towards the hover sleds.

Ahsoka winds back, her arm flexing, and pitches the two crushes blasters as hard as she can. The first hits a bounty hunter's helmet, cracking the visor in two and caving in the forehead to a devastating degree. He falls through the ice with a splash. The other blaster smashes into one of the hover sleds. The duracrete blocks and chains spill onto the ice, breaking it open. One of the sleds falls through the ice as it tips over.

Sprekker ducks and runs past the sleds. His boots keep inches ahead of a quickly-forming spiderweb of fine cracks in the ice.

PEW. The last bounty hunter shoots at Ahsoka, who merely palms the bolt of red light away with the Force and rushes at him. The blaster bolt fizzles out in the snow.

"Riyo!" Barriss goes to the edge of the hole and sees nothing but black water. She cradles her injured arm to her chest and tries not to panic. Riyo's down there. She's down there and sinking further and further by the second. But even now, Barriss can sense Riyo's light in the Force. Tiny, like a candle. A candle that's flickering out.

"Here." Ahsoka gently presses the cool hilt of Barriss's lightsaber into her good hand, then reaches up to pull her parka off.

"No, no. It's too cold; you'd drown too. I'll do it. I can sense that far down," Barriss mutters. She doesn't even bother asking what happened to the last bounty hunter.

"Then how can I help?" Ahsoka asks.

"Arrest Sprekker."

Just like that, Ahsoka's gone, sprinting across the frozen sea towards Defiance. Sprekker is a distant figure, but he's slipping and sliding all over the ice, and he's not so far away that a Togruta Jedi can't catch up.

Barriss clips her lightsaber to her belt, closes her eyes and whips the Force down through the water towards Riyo. Down, down, down, until the current isn't harsh, until the pressure is too much, until where the light would thin if it were daytime. Barriss cuts down through it all until she lashes around Riyo; a tiny body in the vast expanse of the ocean. Barriss pulls, but finds Riyo tangled.

Of all things, she is tangled in a fishing net, and it gives an answering tug.

Barriss closes her lips around a sob. No, she thinks. No. It simply isn't possible. The Force is the Force and while the locals may invent masks for It that fit their views, the Force is still the Force.

The Force does not have a fishing net because It doesn't need one; the Force does not gather drowning people. And yet here they are, and there the net is, and it coils possessively around Riyo.

Barriss surprises herself by wrenching it away with the Force. Whatever it is, it has no business around Riyo.

The net presses in, adamant, but Barriss maintains a shell of the Force around Riyo. It's not something she can keep up forever, however. Barriss will eventually run out of energy, and then whatever is down there will be free to take Riyo for themselves. Barriss will have to find a different way and if she can't do it through brute force, then….

Barriss's vision goes hazy from tears. Her good hand is clenched tight above the hole in the ice and the other is throbbing with blood and pain and she is shaking from the effort of staying upright.

All around Barriss, the cracks form as fine as lace. If she doesn't let go of Riyo now and lie down, she will be dragged under the same as the sunken hover sled. And if the ice is that fragile here, then it must also be the same everywhere else, and Ahsoka is the heaviest of all of them.

From a distance, in the direction that Ahsoka went, comes the crack of breaking ice. Barriss looks, but doesn't see anything but the darkness of night.

Barriss cannot imagine a galaxy without either of them, but however such a galaxy would be, it would also be so cruel, so ruthless, so incredibly lonely. She wasn't lying when she told Riyo that the galaxy would be poorer if she and Ahsoka would leave it.

"Please! Please don't. Don't take them," Barriss manages to whisper through her closing throat. She would do pretty much anything to save them, even beg alleged gods.

There is a terrible moment where the net lingers, unrelenting, but then is whisked away as if it had never existed. As if whatever was down there heard what Barriss was thinking. The chain unravels from around Riyo's ankles and sinks down into the depths of the ocean.

Barriss cries and pulls again. This time, Riyo rises unheeded through the water.

-----

The falling snow makes the ice slippery. Ahsoka maintains a steady pace as she follows Sprekker with a single-minded focus, and she's getting closer and closer with each measured step.

Sprekker was Riyo's friend. Riyo trusted him, and he ended up literally shooting them in the back. In the back! Riyo's back. Barriss' back. And now Barriss is hurt and Riyo has been plunged into the sea.

Barriss had said to arrest him, which means Ahsoka needs to bring him in alive, but no one said anything about what state he had to be in.

CRACK.

The ice splinters beneath Ahsoka's feet, and she falters and tries to step away, only for the cracks to follow her. Cracks of all size form in the ice around her, and the Force blares a warning in her head. Several feet away, Sprekker also slows down as he picks his way across the flimsy ice. But he's still moving too fast and too recklessly.

"Sprekker, stop! You'll fall in!" Ahsoka shouts.

Sprekker glances over his shoulder at her, but keeps going. All the while, the ice keeps crumbling and the Force's warning gets louder and louder in her montrals until it's deafening.

Ahsoka slowly gets down on her stomach, with her arms stretched out before her. With her head this close, she can actually hear the ice creaking and snapping beneath her.

Stay.

Ahsoka stills on the ice. A pressure builds up over her back, as if pinning her in place, as prickly as being held by an oversized mouth full of knives. She has felt, or known, the Force to be so commanding before, on Mortis, but it's also different somehow. It's wilder, more animated and more dangerous. If she didn't know any better, she'd classify it as the Dark Side, except it isn't malicious at all. Whatever it is, she must obey, and whatever is happening, she must not interfere. Ahsoka's hands flatten over the ice in surrender.

Sprekker smirks back at her and keeps walking towards Defiance at a more sedate pace.

CRACK.

Sprekker falls through the ice with a shout. One second he is there, and the next he has sunk down to his waist. His hands spring out over the ice, keeping himself from sinking any further, and he scrambles to float on his belly. He gives a dark, relieved chuckle as he begins to crawl forward.

Ahsoka's hands twitch. She could try to summon him with the Force, but she's never summoned anything of his size from so far away before. It proves to be a moot point, however, as Sprekker is pulled under by the same invisible presence that pins Ahsoka to the ice. His scream is cut short as he's dragged into the sea, and in the Force, his presence disappears. Like he was never there.

The teeth retreat and the pressure on Ahsoka's back dissipates, freeing her.

"What the kark," Ahsoka whispers as she carefully gets up. "What the kark? What the kark was that?"

Whatever it is, it's still lingering beneath the ice, slowly circling her. Ahsoka takes a few careful steps to the right, and it follows her, as if curious. If Ahsoka goes back to Barriss and Riyo now, she will lead it right to them.

Ahsoka instinctively turns in a circle to face the unknown predator as it swims around her. While she has never hunted an apex aquatic predator before, one that—judging by the power with which it dragged Sprekker into the sea—is probably at least twice her size, it should be relatively easy. She calculates how she might jump, dive through the ice, and catch the thing with a surprise attack.

The ice is thin enough and she has the Force. She could do it.

She'll do it if that's what it takes to keep Barriss and Riyo safe.

Despite how fun that sounds, Ahsoka knows that this is no ordinary creature. She holds a hand out in the its direction and reaches out in the Force to it.

She finds this monster to be a behemoth of a shark, thirty feet long and blind and ancient. A mixed school of lamprey and other fish swim around it, like an escort, or a procession.

Ahsoka breathes in deep as she concedes to the shark. Barriss said to arrest Sprekker, but he was never theirs to take, was he?

The monster takes one last lazy lap around Ahsoka before it peels off and swims away, not towards Defiance, but not towards Barriss and Riyo either. Ahsoka waits until it's far away, then huffs and lowers her arm.

The hole that Sprekker fell through is already freezing over. Ahsoka gives it one last long look before she leaves the way she came.

-----

Riyo emerges from the water, splashing everywhere. Barriss sets her down on the ice and kneels at her side, but she remains unresponsive, with her head lolling to the side.

"Riyo?" Barriss places her good hand over Riyo's nose and mouth, but feels no air. She's not breathing. Barriss presses two fingers against Riyo's neck instead and feels the slightest pulse. She's alive, but only just. Riyo's aura is quickly disappearing in the Force, and Barriss hurries to treat her as best she can with just one hand.

Open the patient's mouth. Make sure that the tongue is out of the way of the windpipe, then tilt the head back to ensure airflow.

A horrible gasping noise escapes Riyo's throat, but Riyo herself doesn't stir.

Barriss ignores the sinking feeling in her gut and pinches Riyo's nose shut.

Make a seal over the patient's mouth with yours and give two breaths. Look to see if the patient's chest rises and falls. If the chest doesn't rise, then the seal is deficient. Try again.

Ahsoka comes out of the darkness and kneels at Riyo's other side.

"What's wrong with her?"

Barriss pauses to take Ahsoka in. Unhurt. Alive. Not at the bottom of the ocean. "She's not breathing. Have you been trained in emergency aid?"

Ahsoka nods. "Do you need me to do the compressions?"

"Yes."

Put the heel of your hand in the center of the patient's chest. Place the other hand over the first. Lock your elbows and press down two inches at a rate of about a hundred to a hundred and twenty times per minute. Let the chest rise completely between compressions.

"Come on, Riyo!" Ahsoka shouts, her teeth clenched.

Barriss keeps Riyo's nose pinched shut, but carefully watches Riyo's face for any change.

Do two breaths every thirty chest compressions. Do this until the patient starts breathing, or emergency help arrives.

Emergency help will not arrive. Barriss and Ahsoka are the emergency help. There is no one else.

There is no one else.

It is just Barriss and Ahsoka and Riyo in the middle of this frozen wasteland with all this falling snow.

Barriss breathes into Riyo's mouth and Ahsoka presses on Riyo's chest. If she needs lungs, here they are. If she needs a heart, here they are. There is so much here they can give Riyo, if she would wake up and ask.

Riyo chokes and Barriss lets go and leans back.

"Hurk!" Riyo rolls onto her side and spits up what must be almost a liter of water; it spills out of her mouth and onto the snow around them.

Ahsoka pumps her fist in the air and whoops. "Yeah!"

"Ugh!" Riyo cries and clutches her chest as she sucks in air and has a coughing fit.

"There you are." Barriss leans over her and carefully smoothes her wet hair from her face, then holds it back as she continues to cough.

"Sprekker? Where's Sprekker?" Riyo wheezes. Her face is scrunched in pain.

"Don't worry about him," Ahsoka says. She squats down next to Riyo and thumps her on the back, helping her cough up even more water. When Riyo finally runs dry, Ahsoka switches to rubbing circles over her back. Riyo curls up between them and shivers.

"Are you two all right?" Riyo asks, her voice small and hoarse.

"Never better. Are you up for traveling?" Barriss asks. Riyo nods.

"Cool, let's go home." Ahsoka scoops Riyo up into her arms and together, the three of them head towards the remaining hover sled.

-----

Riyo's hospital room is full of tokens from well-wishers. Almost every horizontal surface is covered in bouquets and cards. There are even some plush toy bears. Riyo sits up in bed, fully dried and warmed and awake. Her light purple hair has been pulled into a half-updo, and the rest tumbles over her shoulders and down her back. There is a tray on Riyo's lap, and on the tray are thank you cards. Her secretary stands at the side of the bed with folders of more cards under their arm, and they swap out the signed ones for fresh ones and gently inform her which ones are for who. There must be cards for everyone who sent flowers, and more. Riyo dutifully signs them all, and when she's done, the secretary shuffles the flimsi together and bids Riyo a good rest. They give Barriss and Ahsoka a polite nod before leaving.

Ahsoka sits next to her, in a position to see both the door and the window clearly. It's toasty in here, so her parka hangs from the back of her chair. Ahsoka's hand is over her mouth and nose to protect her from the strongest smelling flowers. One or two is fine, but this place might as well be a nursery. Riyo must have noticed her discomfort, because she calls a nurse and asks her to distribute the flowers to other patients. The nurses transfer most of the bouquets to a cart and wheel them out. When the door closes again, it's blissfully quiet, only for Riyo to open a small packet of gummy snacks as she leans back against the pillows; the plastoid packaging crinkles in her hands.

She pops a gummy in her mouth and chews, then holds the packet out to them. "Want some? It's meiloorun."

Barriss, who sits on Riyo's other side, reaches into the little bag with her good hand.

"I'm sorry about your wrist, Barriss," Riyo says.

Barriss has strategically placed herself opposite of Ahsoka the entire time they've been in this hospital so that Riyo is never alone and never too far from either of them. Her left sleeve has been unbuttoned and rolled up to make room for her cast. It extends from her knuckles all the way up her forearm, but stops at her elbow. There is no tension in Barriss' shoulders. No worry in her brow. There is just her clear blue eyes and the most sincere smile that Ahsoka's ever seen on her face.

Barriss eats a gummy and puts her hand over the cast.

"Don't be. It's not your fault and I have no regrets." She pauses, her eyes unsure. "Would you both like to sign it?"

The corners of Riyo's mouth turn up. "I'd like that very much. Here, you go first, Ahsoka." And she offers the stylus.

Ahsoka takes the stylus and scoots the chair closer. Barriss climbs onto the bed and reaches across Riyo's lap.

"Although, it might need to be in a discrete place," Barriss says. Ahsoka hums, then takes Barriss' hand in both of hers. There's a twinge of guilt in her chest. She did this. Yeah, Barriss did ask her to, but still.

"It'll heal in two months," Barriss says.

"That's a long time."

"That's actually quite short compared to the convalescence of non-sensitives." Barriss smiles up at her. "Two months, and no surgery required. It's a pretty good deal."

"I'm sure the pain tabs are sublime too," Riyo says.

Barriss hesitates, then says, "They are very nice."

Ahsoka looks here and there over Barriss' pristine cast, then gently turns it over to reveal the underside.

"Here?" She asks. Barriss nods, as if her voice has stopped working. What should she write? Get well soon? Her com code? Fragile: handle with care? Ahsoka carefully draws a heart shape as neatly as she can on Barriss' wrist and colors it in.

"Done." Ahsoka reluctantly lets go and returns the stylus to Riyo. "Are…you wearing lipstick?"

"Where did you get that? Where were you keeping it?" Barriss asks.

Riyo is indeed wearing dark blue lipstick when she wasn't a minute ago, and she waves their questions away. "Do you want me to sign it or not?"

Barriss, bewildered, holds out her hand. Riyo holds it still in her hands, leans down, and kisses the inside of Barriss's wrist, just under Ahsoka's note.

Ahsoka lets out a shocked, but delighted gasp, not just at the shameless display, but at Barriss's sudden turmoil in the Force and the deep blush spreading across her face.

Riyo lets go and wipes her mouth on a napkin, getting rid of the lipstick. "Sorry, did I go too far?"

Barriss stares down at the blue lipstick mark. "No," she says after a long moment.

"We could get rid of it," Riyo says, but Barriss turns away, protecting the cast.

"No!"

Ahsoka laughs. Riyo giggles and tosses the napkin in the trash can.

There's a knock on the door, and it opens, revealing Rommeruk Cho. His hat is pinned under his arm and in his hands he holds a bouquet.

"Senator," he says.

"Your Grace," Riyo says.

"I'm very sorry about my cousin." And here, he gives the flowers to Riyo, who accepts them with a small 'thank you.'

"And I'm very sorry about the Summit."

Riyo stills. "What? What happened?"

"Nothing! With you and Sprekker gone most of the time, I had to mediate. War almost broke out no less than three separate times. It wouldn't have happened if you were mediating."

"No, it wouldn't have," Riyo says. "You really didn't know what Sprekker was up to?"

Rommeruk shakes his head again. "He estranged himself shortly after my father's death. We…disagreed on how to move on. I can't help but feel responsible. The Summit is over now, but nothing much was agreed upon. Our people still don't trust each other."

"Always so cynical. The fact is that the Talz trusted us enough to let their most important leaders step foot on this moon for several days. Progress, no matter how small, is still progress."

The corner of Rommeruk's mouth turns up and he turns his hat around in his hands. "Still so optimistic. I can't see how Sprekker or my father thought Pantora would be better off without you. Riyo, if I may…."

Riyo sets the flowers to the side and gives him her full attention, her gold eyes sharp. "If you are about to do what I think you're going to do, don't. We've talked about this before, and we've talked many times. Such an arrangement wouldn't be fair to either of us. And I've told you my reasons."

"Yes, you have." Rommeruk looks directly at Ahsoka as he says this, his eyes piercing, and she almost flinches back. She realizes that she's been leaning forward in her chair throughout the entire exchange, with her fingers clenched in her lap. Too late, Ahsoka tries to keep a neutral expression on her face.

Why is this guy here? Sure, he wasn't behind the abduction after all, and sure, he's nicer than he appears to be, but can't he just leave already? The sooner that Ahsoka doesn't have to look at his punchable face, the better.

Rommeruk glances at Barriss too, then returns to Riyo. "If I never ask, then you'll never have to say 'no,' and both of our dignities are spared."

"That was the deal," Riyo gently says.

Rommeruk snorts, then gives a slight bow. "I'll be in touch, Senator. I hope you get better soon."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

And with that, Rommeruk turns and leaves the room. The door clicks shut after him, and Riyo lets out a long sigh.

"What a creep," Ahsoka mutters. "He wants to marry you, but he doesn't even like you."

"Ahsoka, that's very unkind of you!" Barriss says.

"Don't pretend you disagree. He doesn't take Riyo's opinions seriously, so he doesn't take Riyo seriously, which means he doesn't like her."

"That's not what the gossip rags say," Riyo says.

"The gossip rags can shove it."

"I…well, the tabloids are rather malicious," Barriss says.

BEEP.

Riyo's data pad lights up from its place on the side table. Ahsoka picks it up and hands it to Riyo, who swipes across the screen to read. She frowns.

"What is it?" Barriss asks.

"The Jedi Order messaged me. Now that the Summit is over, they're asking when to expect you to return," Riyo says.

Ahsoka clicks her tongue and looks away. Barriss just sighs.

"We will return when you are well enough to travel. We will…." Here, Barriss's voice wavers, but she continues. "We will report to the Council and we will respectfully resign from the Order."

One of Riyo's eyebrows goes up. "Just like that?"

"Yes. It's rather drastic, but it can't be helped. I've looked into registering as a conscientious objector, but the Jedi don't allow for that sort of thing."

"But if you are generals and commanders in this war, then you are beholden to military law, and military law allows for soldiers and officers to develop conscientious objections and to abstain from fighting."

"Usually, you would be correct, but the relationship between the Jedi and the Republic is made up of exceptions. We are not Republic citizens, but we command the GAR. We command the GAR, but we are not subjected to military law. I would rather not wade into that mess," Barriss says.

A sly smile spreads across Riyo's face at that. "It sounds like you've been brushing up on your line of reasoning, Barriss. When did you do that?"

"It was gonna happen eventually; you're a bad influence," Ahsoka says. Riyo laughs.

Barriss frowns. "I'll admit that I'm concerned of our path outside of the Order. When we leave, then what would we do? How would be do it? We've not much by way of credits, and we don't have a ship, and we won't have any identichips either. No citizenship means no clearance, and no support."

"How many credits do you have? Would they follow you out of the Order?" Riyo asks.

"Yes, because the accounts are with the Banking Clan," Barriss says.

"I have about one thousand credits," Ahsoka says.

"And I have a bit more than two thousand," Barriss says.

"Three thousand credits?" Riyo taps her chin as she thinks. "Give me five days and I'll flip it for eight."

Barriss squints. "How?"

"If you have to ask, it's not a gift," Riyo says.

Barriss's nose scrunches. "I don't like that, but I won't ask. Tell me no one will get hurt."

Riyo raises her hand. "No one will get hurt."

"There see? We'll be fine," Ahsoka says. "Riyo, can we stay at your place until we figure stuff out?"

"Of course! Anytime," Riyo says.

"And as for a ship, I mean, I could always slice one," Ahsoka says.

"Who said you'd have to steal?" Riyo asks. She reaches out, and Ahsoka automatically takes her hand. Riyo lightly tugs, and Ahsoka joins them on the bed.

"Who told you that you'd have to steal a ship, Ahsoka?" Riyo asks in a low voice. Their faces are so close that her breath tickles Ashoka's nose. Her heart thuds in her chest.

So this is how Barriss must have felt when Riyo kissed her wrist. Ahsoka's dimly aware of how Barriss watches them from the other side of the bed, her fascination leaking through the Force Bond. Damn if it isn't the smoothest thing Ahsoka's ever seen Riyo do, and her mouth turns dry, but a teasing glint in Riyo's eyes jolts Ahsoka back to her senses.

Oh. That's how it is, huh? Well, Ahsoka can play too.

"Would you get us a ship if I asked you nicely?" And at that, Ahsoka lowers her gaze to Riyo's mouth.

Riyo's eyes flicker. To her credit, she doesn't move away at all.

"Ask me nicely," Riyo whispers, teasing save for the spike of pure want cutting through her humor. It's hidden as fast as it appears, but it's too late. Ahsoka sobers from the sheer magnitude of it. How can emotions so intense be housed in such a small body? And how can Ahsoka not hold feelings just a fierce in return?

There is no shying away either. Not this time. There are no blinders to divert Ahsoka's attention and there are no reasons why she should box away her wants the way she's always done before. And by the Force, does Ahsoka ever want.

Ahsoka wants to kiss Riyo. She wants to curl around her like how they did in the Moonlit Monastery. She wants to pull the collar of Riyo's shirt aside and press her mouth to the yellow tattoos woven over the tops of her shoulders.

There's a spike of surprise through the Force Bond, and Ahsoka glances past Riyo to Barriss, who is blushing under her lumen. Was…was Ahsoka broadcasting that through the Force? Oh no.

But instead of leaving in disgust, Barriss stays. She stays and her fingers curl in her lap, crumpling the material of her skirt in her fists. Like she's holding herself back.

That just won't do, but Ahsoka will get to that. She looks back to Riyo.

But Riyo pulls back, flushed indigo. "I mean, of course I was joking. You and Barriss aren't obligated…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…."

Yeah, maybe she shouldn't have, but Ahsoka started it. She started it and she might as well finish it too, as it's the responsible thing to do. Ahsoka leans in and kisses Riyo, catching the corner of her mouth. Riyo gasps, and a sharp thrill zings through her aura. After a moment, she lays an cautious hand on Ahsoka's arm and turns her head for a proper kiss. Riyo is soft against Ahsoka's mouth and blazing hot. Sweet too, because of that candy.

Ahsoka is careful or her teeth and makes sure not to bite down, even as Riyo responds with rising insistence. Her fingers skim up Ahsoka's arm and curl around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Ahsoka's montrals pick up the quickening thrum of Riyo's pulse, and she is so very pleased. She's doing that to Riyo. She caused that.

When Ahsoka finally sits back, contented, she leaves Riyo breathless and dazed, her pupils are blown wide open. A dopey smile slowly spreads across Riyo's face as she turns to Barriss.

Barriss still hasn't left, and the Force around her is a mess of swirling emotion. She looks down as if she hasn't been watching. As if she didn't also sense that lapse in Riyo's mental shields. As if she hasn't felt what Ahsoka felt through the Force Bond they share.

"What about you?" Ahsoka asks.

Barriss' eyes widen. "What about me?"

"Do you want one too?"

"So you're just giving them out today, huh?" Barriss' voice cracks and she clears her throat. Ahsoka scoots across the bed to Barriss, so close that their hips touch.

"Only to Riyo, and to you if you want them," Ahsoka says. Behind her, Riyo gives a strangled noise.

"If I want them," Barriss repeats, her voice soft. "If I want them from the both of you."

"Yeah," Ahsoka says.

A torn look passes over Barriss' face. She was always more methodical, always had to examine an issue or situation thoroughly to the point of exhaustion. It might too much too soon. A pang goes through Ahsoka's heart, and she moves to shift back.

"Yeah, it's a little fast, isn't it? I'm sorry."

But Barriss' hand falls over Ahsoka's and holds fast. Ahsoka stills.

"Barriss?"

Barriss finally glances up, her blue eyes clear and sure, then flutter closed as she leans in and presses her lips to Ahsoka's.

The Force flares around them in response, bright and warm. Ahsoka gathers Barriss into her lap as she kisses back, making Barriss melt around her. Compared to the intensity of the last kiss, this one remains slow and patient. Barriss breaks the kiss to breathe and drops her forehead against Ahsoka's shoulder. She hooks her fingers into the material of Ahsoka's dress and shakes.

Riyo ducks to better see. "Barriss, are you crying?"

"No…yes," Barriss mumbles.

"Damn. I was that bad, huh?" Ahsoka says.

Barriss gives a watery chuckle. "No, I'm just really happy."

Ahsoka hugs her tight and looks at Riyo over her shoulder. Riyo's grinning like a fool, and Ahsoka must be doing the same, because her cheeks hurt.

"Your bed on Coruscant, is it big enough for all of us?" Now that Ahsoka has the two of them, there's no way she's ever letting go.

Riyo shakes her head. "It's not, but I can fix that."

-----

Reindeer Ridge can't be found on a map, nor has it been found by any other travelers. There is no recorded history of it in any database.

Vuyo Kortzeer tried reconnecting with his ex fiancé, but she already moved on. That's ok though, because he found someone else and married her. Sanele Kortzeer got her degree and moved to Kark You Pay Me, Pantora to help develop the town.

Anathi Mafoo and his family donated the hunted seals to the people of Bravado. His eldest son, Dumi, returned from exile and inherited the Count title. Thandi never quite got the hang of the uhadi, but was able to tour Pantora by playing the batanga as part of a band.

Nanuk, his wife Yuka, their friends Osha and Ujarak, and the rest of the Breede Ice Ferry passengers survived the bounty hunter attack without any injuries and got to their destination safely.

Priestess Kupun made it back to the Moonlight Monastery by taxi. Riyo bought High Priestess Estuuya and the priestesses a new speeder to replace the one she, Barriss, and Ahsoka stole, and also donated enough credits to fix the damaged classroom. The priestesses are very grateful.

Riyo became Ahsoka's and Barriss' financier and treasurer. After Barriss and Ahsoka quit the Jedi, Riyo provided them with the proper flimsies, identichips with clearance, and the equipment they need to travel the galaxy and help people. It's all far too expensive for a Senator's salary, but they don't ask where it came from and Riyo doesn't tell them where she got it all. Riyo joins them on their adventures when she can.

Ahsoka and Barriss went on to cause a major and successful slave rebellion in Hutt Space. They each have seven figure bounties on their heads and have been deified on a couple planets for their efforts. After every adventure, they come back to Riyo.

The three of them are very, very happy.

-----

Want to read this on Ao3 or on FF.net? Click here for the links.