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gabriel4sam · 4 years ago

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The weeping stone, a little crossover, the Mummy x Star Wars

Beta-ed by @wrennette, a little fic The Mummy x Star Wars.

Under the cut; the fic:

Our story started a long, long time ago and in a galaxy far away and never really ended. There was just a pause. A long pause. Eons passed.

And then it started again, just like that:

Two men, alone and desperately human, fighting against abominations from the dawn of civilisation. Monsters with a taste for human flesh. One favoured his left side. They made their last stand at the forgotten temple of a forgotten goddess, erased from human memory with great care by Ptolemy III Euergetes, his mages and what would become the Medjai, more than two centuries before the modern era. A forgotten goddess now trying to make a comeback heralded in blood, famine, and other happy events.

Those men should have never left the scene, or only in very, very, very tiny bits.

Sadly for the beasts, that sort of situation had become terrifyingly normal for Jonathan and Ardeth.

Not everybody can have exotic dancers as a bad habit, like most of Jonathan’s Oxford friends.

With a yell like a woodsman putting the last axe wound in a giant tree, Ardeth cut in two the latest giant crocodile with two heads. The left head, apparently not the quickest to apprehend new circumstances, continued to flail a moment. Ardeth watched it carefully, with an air clearly meaning: Try it, if you dare.

Since no one glared like Ardeth, the left head wisely died, instead of incurring his wrath again.

“These things definitely don't conform to the traditional representation,” Jonathan remarked, with the blasé attitude of a man who had become sadly used to giant animals with too many heads, resurrected priests and other fun ways to pass the time in the charming country of Egypt. If he didn’t go bankrupt every time he put a foot on the soil of the Mother country, he would have refused to leave England. There, dead things stayed dead and even if Arthur had risen, Jonathan was sure the lad would have been much more amiable than Imhotep.

Perhaps it was a question of the soil temperature…. Would dead English sovereigns rise if transplanted in Egypt? Or Scottish ones? The Scottish ones seemed more fun.

“Carnahan, stop dreaming and come help,” Ardeth ordered and Jonathan thought of protesting. Harvesting hearts of two-headed magical creatures was gory and smelly. Even if it was to stop a giant wave of drought which would devastate Egypt and probably cause a lot of deaths. But Jonathan had seen enough death during the Great War; deaths he could never forget, no matter what new horrors Evy and her brand new husband Rick, and Ardeth, half friend half pain in the ass in Jonathan’s opinion, discovered every day.

“Life was so much simpler without the supernatural,” Jonathan grumbled, but it was weak and he went to help. The sooner they had the hearts, the quicker they could leave, and supposing Evy and Rick had successfully harvested the brains of their own two-headed monsters, they could stop the drought, leave their third lost temple this year and go back to Jonathan favourite way to pass life: searching for a way to earn money.

Preferably without the dead rising, for once.

They stayed with the Medjai for the night, since it would have been pretty stupid to try returning to the city after dark. The night was beautiful, all stars and an enormous moon and Jonathan was finding himself quite enamoured with life. His sister and her husband disappeared into their tent and he hoped they remembered they were not alone and currently surrounded only by cloth.

The Medjai were extremely pleasant hosts, even Ardeth for all his glaring, and whatever the pastries and strange herbal tea they were distributing were almost making Jonathan not care they didn’t drink alcohol… or that Ardeth took Jonathan’s secret stash at the beginning of their current adventure to prepare a makeshift bomb.

Against a giant Mesopotamian…thing, because evidently the local monsters and undead weren’t enough. Some had apparently been imported too.

Jonathan let himself fall into the nest of covers loaned to him for the night. He was sore, but not too bruised, and the satisfaction of saving people had an edge even a cynic like him couldn’t deny.

“You know, the only thing missing is gallant company. Not that yours isn’t charming, old chap, but nothing beat a scandalously clothed lady. With the bosom, you know,” Jonathan said, gesticulating to illustrate.

Ardeth grunted and didn’t answer.

“But perhaps there is a Mrs. Bey in one of the tents? Or several? Are your people polygamists? Because that’s something I could get behind. Never too much of a good thing, you know, even if I always asked myself how it worked. I mean, some men must go without riches for other to have more? Very capitalistic and –“

“Carnahan, stop babbling. And no, there isn’t a Mrs. Bey, as you say. And if there was, you would be literally the last person in this country I would introduce to her.”

“Rude!”

“Sleep, Jonathan. We leave at dawn and I don’t enjoy having to throw water at you to force you to rise.”

“No need to grumble. Also, you totally enjoy it! And I’m sure you’ll find the perfect Mrs. Bey one day and sweep her off her feet. Very heroically, probably. There will be fireworks, old chap! ”

“Thanks, I suppose. But this isn’t…. My friend, there is-“

A snore interrupted him.

Ardeth turned to the side. Jonathan Carnahan had succumbed to the exhaustion of the day. Ardeth snorted, amused despite himself, and happy his confidences to his grating, but strangely attaching, friend had been stopped just in the nick of time. Some words couldn’t be unsaid. And he liked the Carnahan and O’Connell trio, despite their habit of stumbling exactly where they shouldn’t. He went on his last stroll around the camp, saluting the sentinels, as was his habit before sleep, and didn’t think any more of this conversation. Sadly, the sudden interest of Jonathan about his love life distracted him enough – should he tell him the truth or not, the English could be very strange about that – that he forgot for a moment a bad habit of Jonathan, where he pickpocketed everything shiny like an overgrown Oxford-educated magpie, and didn’t go through his pockets like he ought to after one of their expeditions.

Therefore, Ardeth missed the amulet in Jonathan’s vest, found in the temple of the day. And he missed the crystal, strange, shining, definitely nothing he had seen before, embedded in it.

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

A woman was leaning down over Jonathan. She wore the strangest headdress he had ever seen, with two long tails of bizarre material, blue and white, and it was also crowning her, giving her a royal air, despite the blood running down her face. There was something slightly wrong about her face, like the proportions were slightly different from what they should normally be in a human.

“I’m sorry,” she was saying. “I’m sorry, Master, this is the only way to be sure he doesn’t get you too. Someone will come find you. The Alliance has our coordinates, they will find you.”

An older man stepped up behind her and he was bleeding too, the left part of his face a terrible wound, which had taken one of his eyes. The blood congealed on his beard and he used the wall to stay upright. The still intact eye shined with determination despite the probably terrible pain.

“Ahsoka, there isn’t time left,” he said and something sharp came to mask the despair on the woman’s face.

“I know,” she said. She took something from around her neck and it was the strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan had found. She leaned down and placed it on Jonathan.“Anakin’s crystal,” she said. “May you use it more wisely than him.”

She pushed a metal cover over Jonathan and it seemed so much like the lid of a sarcophagus. Jonathan wanted to yell for help but he was paralyzed. The last thing he saw was the woman turning, two swords of white flame in her hands, then whatever he was lying on went far away. There was an acceleration, like a plane taking off, and Jonathan knew nothing but the cold light of stars.

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

Jonathan woke up shivering, his mouth already open to cry out. Ardeth was on the other side of the campfire, getting it going again for the morning tea.

“First time I've seen you up without help,” Ardeth smiled, but his smile died when he got a better look at the other man’s face.

“Jonathan?”

“Just…just a nightmare.”

Ardeth wisely nodded. Even he, who had been trained all his life to protect humanity from what was laying underneath the sands of Egypt and the neighbouring countries, would sometimes be visited in his dreams by the horrors he was regularly exposed to.

In silence, Ardeth offered his water skin for Jonathan to rinse the bilious taste of nightmares from his mouth.

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

The woman was there again. The one with the strange headdress going down on either side of her head. The headdress was smaller and the tattoos on her face smaller too, like they hadn’t been finished. She was silently watching the cold coffin Jonathan was in, agony on her face.

“Oh Master,” she only said. “If only you were there… Really there. More than ever, I need your help.”

A man entered the room. He had brown skin, brown hair too long for even Cambridge and smart eyes.

“The Ghost is leaving in ten minutes, we can’t afford more.”

“I’m ready, tell Hera I will be on board.” The woman with the headdress said. Jonathan wanted to yell at her to take him with her, that he wanted to help, that it was his responsibility to help, but his mouth was cold and his tongue dead inside it, like a block of ice.

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

“Don’t you think your brother is…you know?” Rick asked one morning and Evelyn’s eyes left the reproduction of a Nekhen tomb painting she was admiring, realized she was about to put marmalade in her tea, took her glasses off and turned to her husband. Rick hadn’t put his shirt on yet, a fact she deeply appreciated.

“There are many answers to that question and some of them are about secrets I swore to take to my tomb when we were teenagers, so I will need you to elaborate, darling.”

“Don’t you think your brother is strange?”

“Did he try to convince you to invest in a bar in Casablanca again?”

“If I was trying to start a business with him, I would be the strange one. No, I mean, don’t you think he’s stranger than usual?”

As one, they turned to the patio of the decrepit house they were renting in Damietta.

It was eight in the morning and Jonathan was up.

That itself was strange.

Not that Jonathan couldn’t, in crisis time, wake early. But when they were still recuperating from their latest adventure, he liked to only get up at what he called “the crack of dawn,” meaning something like thirteen o'clock.

Eight in the morning, and he was awake, seeping tea slowly, and trying the meditation Ardeth had once tried to teach him, before pronouncing him totally inept. That itself was strange. The tears slowly flowing on his cheeks were making it unreal.

Jonathan hadn’t shed a tear since coming back from the trenches of the Great War. What he had lived through there had used up all the tears for one life. After, there was only room for laughter, sometimes slightly hysterical, alcohol, and women of ill repute, with the occasional supernatural menace.

“I think the last mission we accompanied Ardeth on was particularly difficult for him.”

“Nobody died!” Rick protested. “Nobody didn’t even almost died!”

“Dear God, we’re setting the bar quite low those last months….”

Rick turned again to Jonathan. At the beginning of his marriage to Evy, he had seen Jonathan more as an unfortunate consequence of Evelyn, someone to endure, until they had bonded with their experiences from the war. Some things they had shared with each other, they hadn’t even told Evy, the most important person in both their lives.

“I’m taking him for a drink tonight with my old buddies from the Legion,” Rick decided. “Mano a mano.”

“That really doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Evelyn smiled and Rick couldn’t resist that smile, never had, and he swallowed an impromptu Latin lesson with a tender kiss, which lead to other things, and Evelyn quite late in her morning program for the study of the Nekhen tomb paintings.

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

There was a demon, more frightening than Imhotep himself. It was black, prowling in the shadows around Jonathan. The only thing Jonathan could perceive of it, a noise like lethal gas escaping its canister. The thing, the monster, the nightmare, carried a sword made of blood and at its feet lay the bodies of everyone Jonathan had ever loved.

Lost.

All of them were lost, because Jonathan had not been enough.

The despair should have a taste but Jonathan hadn’t tasted anything in years. There was just the cold, the after taste; spicy, of the last thing he had tasted, long ago, months ago, years ago, centuries ago, before laying down in his tomb, silent, vigilant witness of the end of everything and the rise of darkness.

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

Rick and Evelyn were waiting for him when he got back from his nightly walk. He had exchanged his usual nightly shenanigans in bars for slow walks across the landscape. By day, the sounds of so many people had become a torture and even at night, it was like Jonathan could feel them pressing around him. Only in the empty surroundings of Damietta could he find peace now, following the stars, which always seemed wrong to him, like they were in an incorrect configuration.

“Evy?” Jonathan asked, surprised, because they were always in bed when he came back.

“This is an intervention,” his sister said.

“Oh come on. I swear to you, I haven’t started using again. I know the effect of Forced Marche on me, I wouldn’t…"

“I know, darling,” Evy said with warmth, taking his hand in a gesture of comfort. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me, or to yourself again. But, you have been…you haven’t been yourself, those last weeks. At first, I confess I thought you were, how do I say it-“

“Hitting the bottle pretty hard,” Rick completed with no tact at all.

“But I remembered when you started to change and I called a specialist.”

There was a movement behind Jonathan and he turned and Ardeth was there, his face harder than Jonathan had seen in a long time. And in his hand, cradled like the simple contact was dangerous, was the amulet with the crystal Jonathan had found weeks ago, abandoned on the red sandstone altar in a temple of a forgotten goddess in Latopolis.

“That’s mine,” Jonathan yelled immediately, his hands raising to seize the jewel, but Rick’s arms were around his shoulders, as hard as steel.

“I failed you, my friend,” Ardeth said gravely.

“Ardeth, that’s mine!” Jonathan said again, already suffocating on tears, “That’s the only thing I have left!”

Another Medjai was there, one Jonathan didn’t know, and a foul-smelling cloth was across Jonathan's mouth, and he struggled, but Rick was stronger, and Ardeth was there too, helping Rick contain his thrashing, and the last thing he heard was Evelyn crying.

Beyond his eyelids, for a second, he would have sworn Evelyn’s silhouette was different, her belly round as the sun, and shining too, shining like a newborn star, but it made no sense and he lost himself to the dark of drugged sleep.

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

The woman was there again. There was a man with her, blond hair, brown skin, a hand on her shoulder, comforting her as she put her two hands on the lid of Jonathan’s sarcophagus. Behind them, there was a man with darker skin and a dash of yellow across his nose and even if Jonathan had never seen him in his life, he wanted to beg him to take care of her, of her and the first man, the blond one, because if Jonathan himself couldn’t, this man with the yellow markings was almost him, brother, support, friend.

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

Jonathan woke up in a tent. Someone had tied his ankles together, not tight enough to stop him from walking, but tight enough to stop him from running. Ardeth was there, offering him a cup of tea, and even if Jonathan wanted to throw it to his face, his throat was parched. He accepted it.

“Was it poisoned?” Jonathan asked, voice hard with anger, once he had drunk everything.

“No, it wasn’t, and this is perhaps a question you should ask before accepting a drink.”

“Well, not like I can stop you, as the last hours demonstrated!”

“I understand you’re angry.”

“Well, you’re so brilliant to decipher emotion, if Medjai doesn’t work, perhaps you could become a disciple of Mister Freud.”

“We’re here to help you.”

“You have a strange way to show it,” Jonathan pointed out.

At that moment, the flap of the tent opened. Jonathan’s heart jumped in his chest. It was Evelyn and Rick and the sense of betrayal went higher. Ardeth was a friend, a good one, yes, but still only a friend. Rick and Evy were family. Family wasn’t supposed to betray each other.

Ages old grief rose. Older than Jonathan, older than twice cursed Imothep, older than every temple in Egypt, and he choked on the wave of anguish. The infinite sadness was the only thing in his soul and it went higher, plugging his lungs, crushing his heart. On his cheeks tears started to flow again and he would have died of this pain, it was impossible to survive such sorrow.

Hands found his own. Darker hands with tattoos. Ardeth’s hands, scarred and dependable, hands which had saved Jonathan’s life countless times.

A head was against his. Dark hair, the same as his, and their mother perfume, and the embrace of blood, a link he only had with Evey now, their English family dead and buried, but Evy, Evy was there, his beloved sister, and they had survived so much together, from their parents’ loss to the countless disappointments of life.

Strong arms around his shoulder, his waist and the scent of that awful cologne. Rick. Rick, who made Evy happy, Rick who had seen the trenches too, Rick, the brother their parents didn’t have the time to give him.

Jonathan crashed into his body and into reality with all the grace of a drunk camel trying to run across a dune.

“What’s wrong with me!” He yelled, quite strongly, into poor Rick’s ears.

There was some fussing, a fortifying potion poured by Rick into Jonathan’s tea, despite Ardeth’s opinion that alcohol really wouldn’t help Jonathan, then they congregated around the fire with stew and explanations. Jonathan was famished. It was like he had survived only on tea and slow walks across the Egyptian landscapes for days.

“It was a very long time ago,” Ardeth explained. “During the Thinite Confederacy, before even the First Dynasty. One day a great fire fell from the sky into the desert. The tribes which formed the Confederacy sent an expedition to follow the trail of the fire and they found a great stone at the centre of a dune entirely crystallized, like an intense fire would have done. They brought back the stone to the city. Little by little, the members of the expedition who found it began to have visions. They could predict other tribes attack, they could sometimes know where a venomous snake was waiting in a bush, they knew where to go for good game in the hunts…”

“Seems like a pretty friendly stone,” Rick commented. “Very useful stuff.”

“But their new talents had a price,” Ardeth continued, like Rick hadn’t interrupted him. “The ones with the most talent, the ones who could sometimes heal wounds or ease a birth for example, were the most touched. They wept during feasts, they yelled into the night, they were taken apart by-“

“Sadness,” Jonathan said. “Infinite sadness.”

Ardeth nodded. Evelyn’s hand found her brother’s own hand and pressed on it.

“Most of them took their own life, at the end. A temple was built, coming from a vision one of the men touched by the stone had and the stone placed in the sanctuary. Once a year, young people were send to it to earn its wisdom.”

“That’s…that’s quite cold,” Evely shivered, “They were sacrificed. Fated to kill themselves or go crazy.”

“Yes, they were. Officially, they were designed by the oracles, but of course, most were chosen as a way for the most powerful to strike down their enemies.”

“Charming.”

“Some of them survived. They endured and went to become great souls, leading their people, or taking the places of advisors of the proto-kings. They said Menes, the founder of the first dynasty was one of them, that used what he learned from the stone to unify Egypt. They also said that the stone stopped talking to him because of the bloodshed, and that is why he was killed by a hippopotamus, because he had gotten too close to the beast, confident in a gift which had been taken back. They also said that Menes was the only one ever succeeding in opening the stone, and that he never said what was inside. Simply brought back that strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan stole.”

“Liberated, thank you very much,” Jonathan interrupted.

“All of this is fascinating,” Evelyn admitted. “But if we need the stone to help Jonathan…” Her brother was quite touched. For Evy, Evy! To interrupt Egyptian story time like that….

Ardeth nodded again.

“Yes, we need the stone and, praise Allah, I know where it is. The temple is in Thinis. Some said the weeping stone contributed to the abandonment of the city for Memphis as a capital.”

“Then we have a problem,” Evelyn realized. “Nobody has ever found Thinis.”

“The English haven’t,” Ardeth said with half a smirk and Evelyn made the same noise Rick made when he found a scorpion in their bathroom.

“We had this conversation before,” Rick immediately intervened, before Evelyn lost herself in an archaeological rant. “Ardeth certainly doesn’t have to tell you everything his people know and keep from the scientists.”

He kissed her pout. Knowledge was Evelyn’s grail and she could become a little insensitive to indigenous peoples' reasons for keeping secrets in her quest., Nobody was perfect, neither she or he or Ardeth, and their friendship could endure some friction.

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

The woman had come back again. On Jonathan's coffin, she placed a strange helmet, white and half burned…

“Cody,” she said, then a long silence and she added: “He was himself at the end. He called for you.” And, in his coffin, Jonathan��s heart wept, like another wound had been added to his burden.

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

Jonathan woke up kneeling, his face close, too close to the dying embers of the campfire. Ardeth hands, steel strong, the only things stopping him from burning himself.

A grief too big to bear pulsed in his heart, something so immense he couldn’t swallow it. He turned to Ardeth and saw in his friend’s eyes compassion and support. He didn’t deserve that man’s friendship. Friends could be taken so quickly, died in a flourish of a blade, Jonathan should….No, no, those thoughts weren’t his. Ardeth was a dear friend, yes, but he was in no danger of any blade.

It was such a freezing thought to realize the inside of his own brain weren’t exactly his own anymore.

“How far away is this city again?” Jonathan asked.

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

Later, when Jonathan, pale and with too deep shadow beneath his eyes, had been put to sleep by a few drops of a potion made by one the Medjai specialist, Ardeth, Rick and Evelyn divided the hours of day and night between the three of them.

Jonathan couldn’t be left alone.

They left the camp at dawn, escorted by ten of Ardeth’s men. Jonathan was trying very hard to put his persona on, like a mask, and Rick was keeping him company at the moment, so Evelyn guided her camel next to Ardeth.

“Are you here to grill me about Thinis' secrets?” Ardeth asked and she made a face.

“I’m sorry,” Evey admitted. “Sometimes I lose myself in my desire for knowledge and I act harshly. I wouldn’t want you to think your friendship is only a means to me.”

“I know the truth of your heart, Evelyn O’Connell,” the Medjai simply said. “You are a good person, if not a very patient one. Which is a surprise for a woman capable of speaking ten dead languages.”

“Only nine,” Evey corrected and everything in her tone confessed she found it a terrible shortfall on her part.

He smiled and didn’t admit to her he spoke more. Instead, he told her old tales of the lost city of Thinis, stories of the beginning of Egypt, when the Medjai were simply one tribe of several, before the rise of the united country, before the Pharaohs. Evelyn listened, eyes shining. In return, she recited the Culhwch and Olwen to him, translating on the fly from middle Welsh to English and Ardeth was in turn fascinated.

“When Jonathan is healed,” Ardeth said, refusing to entertain the idea that his friend could die. “I think I would like to see your country.”

“I would like to be your guide,” Evelyn answered, “and to guide you to its secrets. Even if we are sadly lacking in lost magic cities.”

“Perhaps we will find them together,” Ardeth said. “Perhaps there are Medjai in your country, keeping its secrets, like my brothers and myself are keeping the secrets of Egypt.”

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

There was a child. A small, strange child, with green skin and a bizarre headdress. She was a girl, and young, so young, and Jonathan knew that one day, she would have been his to teach. He had always known and she had too, and sometimes, when he could, he had visited her and the other children, happy to see her grow safe and happy, like every child should.

But a shadow entered the room. A shadow with a cowl obscuring its face, but Jonathan knew. He knew that shadow had been his child too and if his lips were sealed by cold and death, his heart yelled and cried and raged, as the shadow cut in two the one who should have been his sister.

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

Thinis slept under the sand but the Medjai knew a way. They always knew a way, custodians of so many secrets. Ardeth guided their small expedition and they started to dig, taking turns, to excavate the entry to the lost city.

“How long since you last dug it out?” Rick grumbled, as he was on the team excavating the sand. “It seems that door hasn’t seen the light of the sun since it was built, with all this freaking sand on it.”

“We haven’t come back since the sixteenth century,” Ardeth explained. “The amulet was stolen from a group of Medjai at that time, and we tracked the buyer, and tried to save his son who had touched the crystal.”

“And did it work?”

Ardet’s grimace told everything of the answer.

“Perfect, just perfect,” Rick growled and he started to work even harder.

Once the path to the door was cleared out, Ardeth left half his men outside on guard with Evelyn and Rick, and entered the city with Jonathan and the rest of the Medjai. Evelyn had protested, and Rick too, and it was Jonathan’s own voice that finally had convinced them. How could he fight the despair in his soul, if he was afraid for his family?

“You’re going with Ardeth!” Evelyn had protested and the Medjai had been touched by this casual inclusion in their family.

“Sometimes attachment isn’t enough,” Ardeth had told the young woman. “We have been trained since childhood for this. We won’t fail your brother. We won’t fail our friend in his time of need.”

The Medjai had been trained for this. To protect the world from everything that slept under the sand. To stand guard, silent, vigilant, between the people of Egypt and the different horrors the past had left. Ardeth thought about that as they progressed. It was his duty and also his honour, but even he found the slow walk into the city buried under the sand difficult.

Not physically.

Here, there weren't any of the traps or undead abominations which had marked his first adventure with Rick and company, when together they had stopped Imothep.

No, the difficulty was in all their hearts and it didn’t come from their own feelings. It was a song of despair, of infinite sadness, a grief which tore them apart and still asked for more. But where men of the past had succumbed, the Medjai didn’t. Perhaps the only ones who wouldn’t.

Duty. A life offered to duty. The desire to protect, even the people who didn’t understand them, who would have spit on their way of life. That was the Medjai way. And whatever was waiting for them in the heart of the city understood that, perhaps more than anything else in the world.

Perhaps even more than infinite sadness.

Duty, even in the time of grief.

For this, the warriors and Jonathan arrived alive at the ruined temple. Gritting their teeth against despair, but alive, if slightly dusty. Ardeth left his men there and guided Jonathan further in. The Englishman couldn’t walk anymore, despite courageous effort. Ardeth, a hand around his waist, dragged him into the sanctuary, and almost let go of him the moment they entered. In the light of the torch, the stone glittered in a way no stone should.

Slowly, Ardeth helped Jonathan to the base of the steps. When Jonathan was sitting down, he went closer to examine the stone. It was no stone, something his ancestors hadn’t included in their reports, perhaps for fear to seem insane.

Ardeth touched it.

It was metal, he was certain of it. A metal he couldn’t identify, but a metal. And there, at the base of it there was….

There was something deformed by heat, by time, by the shock of a crash in the desert centuries ago, but that a modern Medjai could identify where pre-pharaonic and fifteen centuries Medjai couldn’t.

Some sort of handle.

Some sort of door handle….

Ardeth, in a moment of dumb courage his Medjai teachers would have walloped his behind for, turned the handle. It was stuck, but with a bit of effort…

A hiss, stale air, and it opened.

On the stone floor, Jonathan had passed out.

Ardeth looked inside the stone which wasn’t a stone.

There was…there was some strange statue. A man. Certainly not Egyptian, but no people he could identify. Simply a man, very realistic, but only three-quarters of him could be seen, the rest lost in the mass of stone, or metal, behind him, like the sculptor had been interrupted. On the side, there was some metal contraption with lights, all red, and blinking like crazy. And one by one, they were going out.

Ardeth had half decided to throw Jonathan across his shoulders and start running, because he didn’t want to be there when the last one went out, when suddenly all of them failed and went dark.

There was a light, a noise, liquid falling on the floor, and a man stepped out of the statue, into Ardeth’s arms.

“Ahsoka,” he said, opening eyes as blue as the sky in the desert, and then he passed out. At the same time, a fog of grey lifted from Ardeth’s heart and he understood that whatever spell had come from the stone, the…thing, it was forever a thing of the past.

To say the Medjai, Rick and Evy were surprised to see half their team coming back with an extra member was an understatement. Their usual was more: 'sudden monster trying to eat their heart and liver,' not: 'mysterious human with red hair stepping out of a statue.' Nevertheless, camp was established, and Jonathan was examined from head to toe, then the man.

“He looks…normal,” was the very helpful diagnostic.

And he did. Only one head, blue eyes, red hair, red beard.

“He would seem more at his place in England, if not for the strange armour,” Evelyn commented, and then forget a little about their guest, because Jonathan had woken up. A little hungover, exhausted, but definitely himself.

And the stranger slept. Days after days. As they stayed in camp the time necessary to let Evelyn visit the ruins, which was both the sweetest gift the Medjai could give her, and the cruellest. The sweetest, because her soul thirsting for knowledge saw and learned things no archaeologist had ever dreamed off. The cruellest, because she could never talk about it, or publish about it, or even use the knowledge gained. Then they hid the entry of the city again and departed.

Every day, the sleeping stranger was tied up to Ardeth on his camel. Every night, they moistened cloths in milk and water, pressing them between his lips to nourish him. Every day, the stranger’s skin lost a little of his pallor as his health seemed to get better.

Jonathan helped the Medjai care for the man with a patience he hadn’t demonstrated in years. He felt a strange kinship with this stranger who had almost caused his death. How could he blame him when he remembered the depth of his sadness?

Sometimes, late in the night, when the memory of his pain was too much on his heart, he searched for Ardeth. He didn’t remember exactly what had happened in the temple, but he knew the warrior had saved his life and his sanity and he remembered his arms around his shoulders, his silent protection. Late in the nights, they talked.

They talked about Medjai training and Oxford. They talked about what they had seen of the world. They talked about their family, Ardeth’s grandfather and uncle who had led the Medjai before him and his father whom he hadn’t known, killed in battle before his birth.They talked about Jonathan and Evelyn’s parents and how their English family had never quite accepted this union and the children resulting…

One night, Ardeth even talked about why there never would be a Mrs. Ardeth Bey, something no person outside the Medjai had ever known, and Jonathan had thanked him for his trust and admitted some youthful indiscretions, in the terms used by his Oxford peers. This night, there was no more talking but every night they sat a little closer and neither the Medjai or the O'Connell interrupted their time together, happy to see the slow progress of their dance, the seed of happiness.

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

Obi-Wan woke up.

It was the strangest thing. It felt alien, unreal. Things were definitely quite jumbled upstairs, his brain as scrambled as if he had spent a weeklong bender with what the clones pretended was alcohol, but he knew it had been longer than that, far too long. He knew he had spent more time in carbonite thant he was supposed to for their infiltration of the Citadel. Images were rushing around in his mind, and pain and anger and grief and Padme yelling and Ahsoka, tall and proud, everything a Jedi should be, and Rex’s blood on the floor and Anakin’s eyes a sickly yellow and nothing, nothing made sense.

Obi-Wan called to the Force and pushed himself into healing with the rest of his strength.

He passed out.

The next time he woke up, he could perceive people around him.

Strangers, not Force sensitive, but…friendly? Or at least, not unfriendly. But his body was still terribly weak and again, Obi-Wan called to the Force.

The third time waking was the good one.

Around him, Obi-Wan knew it was night, all souls at rest save one, at his side, and others further away. Guards, probably.

Carefully, he pushed a little in the Force and perceived no other Force Sensitive around, so he latched onto the closest person and slowly, very slowly, tipped them into sleep.

Only then did Obi-Wan open his eyes.

A stranger, dressed for the desert. Human, or humanoid…no, human.

Obi-Wan carefully stood up. Even with the healing, his steps were hesitant. How long….

He stepped out of the tent, silent as only a Jedi could be. Someone had taken his armour, and changed his clothes. He was dressed in blue like the stranger he had sent to sleep. He needed to find his armour and where he was.

But first, and most importantly, his lightsaber. He concentrated, searched into the Force, encountered a sleeping man next to the embers of a dying fire and stopped.

In the Force, not only could he perceive his own kyber crystal in his lightsaber, in another tent, but also Anakin’s lightsaber. Anakin wasn’t there, of that he was sure, the sun of his power would be impossible to miss.

Obi-Wan found his lightsaber easily and his brother’s kyber, not in Anakin lightsaber but in a strange necklace. With a shrug, he put the necklace around his neck. Evading the place where he could feel the guards, Obi-Wan stepped out of the camp.

He had only trekked two dunes when he felt Ahsoka. Strange, more powerful Ahsoka, but definitely Ahsoka. He had already understood time had passed, so when he broke into a run, he thought he would find his Grand Padawan all grown up, regal and powerful, a Knight of her own. Perhaps already a Master!

When he saw her, it was a shock.

Blue and transparent and shining, waiting for him across the dunes, compassion written on all her being.

Obi-Wan had always known he was fated for infinite sadness and he understood the time he had waited for all his life had come for him.

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

Ardeth was the one who found him.

It had been easy to track his steps across the sand, once he had found his cousin asleep next to the covers of their strange guest, instead of standing guard.

The man was kneeling in the sand and crying. Ardeth, who already had his knife out against what he was sure was a trap, hesitated.

The man looked up and, like in the sanctuary, the Medjai took the blue of his eyes like a shock. He saw the man shoulder his pain and shake himself, with the fortitude of one who had borne too much burden too often. Then the man stood up and touched his chest.

“Obi-Wan,” he said.

“Ardeth,” the Medjai answered and Obi-Wan bowed politely.

Ardeth designated the direction they had come from, like a question, and Obi-Wan obediently started the trip back. Side by side, they walked, Obi-Wan lost in his thought, and the Medjai observing him.

It had been this man’s pain that had resonated from inside the stone.

What sort of grief could be so terrible….One day, perhaps he would know.

For now, tea and food, for the stranger and for their expedition.

They had time.

As they were approaching the first tent, Obi-Wan turned a last time and saw Ahsoka. She bowed and disappeared, probably going back to the Force, or to the New Republic, which Anakin’s children had made happen, and then his grandchildren, great grandchildren, countless generations while Obi-Wan had been prisoner in the carbonite, the module damaged, stopping him from waking up.

Across the stars, far, far away, there were still Jedi, but what could he do, for people who thought his name was an old legend? People who weren’t even sure Anakin’s Fall and the End of the First Republic hadn’t been a legend for children, with how long ago it was?

Obi-Wan, resolutely, turned to the camp. He knew the world. Whatever the strange planet he had winded up, he was pretty sure there were people to help and things to learn. Starting with their language!

A man whom Obi-Wan had never seen but who was definitely strangely familiar, like Obi-Wan knew the shape of his soul, was running to them and he threw his arms around Ardeth, before babbling something the Jedi couldn’t understand, going beet red. Ardeth answered something, his tone firm, and put an arm around the other man’s waist in return, not letting him turn away. The other man went ever more red.

Obi-Wan smiled. Yes, people were people, whatever the species or the era.

The other man turned to Obi-Wan and again the Jedi had this strange impression of a resonance in the Force. The man wasn’t Force Sensitive, of that Obi-Wan was sure, but he almost could have been tipped in this direction, with just a small nudge from fate. What stayed was a strange connection, when their eyes met.

The man bowed in a fluid movement, ceremonial and old, which was pure Jedi, like he had learned from Obi-Wan himself better than Anakin ever learned it, not interested as he was in protocol, or even in being polite.

“Jonathan,” he said and Obi-Wan gave a bow in answer and said :

“Obi-Wan,” and the man smiled and said something he didn’t understand but which, Obi-Wan would have bet his lightsaber, meant some variations of ‘I know’.

At the side of the two men, the Jedi entered the camp and stepped into his new life.

#star war #the mummy returns #ardeth bay #jonathan carnahan #obi wan kenobi #the clone wars #crossover #my fics

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ohayohimawari · 5 years ago

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NartYasha Not!Fic

I’ve had NartYasha on the brain thanks to Sloaners’ server, and I present a post of purely self-indulgent snippets and scenarios of a day in the crossover world of my imagination.

I’d put the rating at G-T; no TW content.

I hope it makes you laugh! Nonsense begins below the cut.

“Ugh—hurry up, Dad, Mom!” Kakashi stood in front of the opened door to the Hatake home, one foot outside of it, and both arms folded across his chest. “I don’t want to be late!”

“I know that you’re excited, Kakashi, but you’re not supposed to meet your team for another hour,” Kaguya called out to her son. “Besides,” she turned her attention to her husband, “your father still needs…to get ready.”

Sakumo sat with his back to her, but his sporadic sniffing and shaking shoulders betrayed the emotions he tried to hide.

“Sakumo, your face will be all red and puffy when we go to meet them,” Kaguya soothed as she neared her husband.

“I know,” Sakumo sighed in resignation, “I know.”

“You don’t want to be confused for Maito, do you?” Kaguya made a gentle joke about their dear family friend, Dai.

It worked, and Sakumo chuckled through his drying tears. “No, I don’t. It’s just, he’s growing up so fast, Kaguya! It seems like only yesterday that he was falling out of trees instead of walking up them—”

“That was yesterday,” Kaguya interrupted Sakumo to remind him of the previous day’s installment of adventures in parenthood.

“—and today he’s meeting his Genin team and Jōnin leader,” he spoke over his wife, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

Kaguya watched two new tears fall when her husband blinked as he returned his gaze to their son’s Pre-K art project that he held in his hands. Sakumo ran his fingers across the handprint that a five-year-old Kakashi had pressed into clay and then ran his thumb over the inverted “s” of their son’s signature.

“Sakumo,” she cooed his name, “if you keep this up, your tears will blind you to the memories that are forming now,” she reached for the clay keepsake. He handed it over and nodded, discerning the sense in her words.

Kaguya smiled at Sakumo and brushed his bristling mane from his eyes. “I worry about how you’ll react when Kakashi goes on his first mission,” she chuckled lightly.

Sakumo gaped at her, wide-eyed, and his bottom lip began to quiver once again.

***

Though it was later than Kakashi would’ve liked, the Hatake family was still the first to arrive at the training grounds (with a rehearsed and believable excuse involving allergies for Sakumo’s red eyes).

“See, Kakashi? There was no need to rush. We’re here before your sensei has arrived,” Sakumo gently scolded his son in a thick voice.

“‘A shinobi must prepare before it is too late to,’” Kakashi recited in a pious tone.

Before Sakumo could caution against following the shinobi rules too strictly, one of Konoha’s most accomplished Jōnin materialized out of thin air, literally.

“Hello Mr. Hatake, Mrs. Hatake,” he bowed to them, “it’s an honor to teach your son.”

“Namikaze,” Sakumo addressed the Jōnin through a relieved smile. “I’m happy to know he’ll be trusted to you.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Kakashi grumbled.

“You’re right. Hello,” the Jōnin issued a warm, gentle smile that was in direct contrast to the dangerous shinobi he was known to be within the Leaf, and beyond. “You can call me Minato-sensei.”

“And you can call him Bakashi,” a raven-haired boy cackled as he ran toward the group.

“Don’t be rude, Obito,” an elderly woman scolded from where she trailed behind him.

“Ah, you must be Obito Uchiha,” Minato turned his smile to the new arrivals.

“Yep, that’s me!” Obito beamed, and then jerked his thumb at Kakashi. “I’m the one you should focus on training, Minato-sensei because I’m going to be Hokage!”

“Is that so?” Minato tilted his head in amusement.

“You bet! I can already see my face carved into the mountainside,” Obito bragged.

“I think you need to clean your goggles then—”

“Kakashi!” Kaguya said his name sharply, causing her son to visibly wince above his mask.

“My grandson deserved that,” the elderly woman had reached the group, “please excuse him. Now then, Obito, will you introduce me to your friends?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Obito scratched at the back of his head. “This is my Granny, Kaede. She’s a priestess from uh,” he hesitated and stole a glance at her, “somewhere else. But she moved here because she didn’t want me to live alone,” he smirked at her when he finished.

Kaede smirked back at him briefly and then raised her one-eyed gaze to the others. “I wasn’t about to let my grandson become a victim of this village’s ‘orphan care program,’” she said, sarcastic.

Minato and Sakumo shifted uncomfortably, but Kaguya was the first to speak. “It’s awful, isn’t it? I’m also a transplant to Konoha, and I can’t believe they’ve let it get this bad—”

“How did you lose your eye?” Kakashi interrupted his mother, unable to contain his curiosity and unaware that such an awkward question was impolite.

Kaede chuckled, easing Sakumo and Kaguya’s embarrassment. “In battle,” she said, low and dramatic, “against a fearsome yōkai.” She leaned over to meet Kakashi’s eyes. “He got much worse than he gave, I promise you,” she added in a dangerous voice for effect.

Kakashi stood unblinking for a few moments, clearly deep in thought, but kept them to himself. Then, he closed one eye and looked around him to test how it altered his vision.

Sakumo cleared his throat to distract from his son’s latest social faux pas. “So, do you know who your third student is, Namikaze?”

“I haven’t met her yet, but I hear she made quite an impression on Lord Third. Lady Kaede brought her along when she first came to Konoha, correct?” Minato asked.

“Yes,” Kaede nodded. “I offered to look after her while her guardian was away because we take care of orphans where I come from. She and Obito became fast friends, and it seemed cruel to part them, so I signed her up to be a Genin.”

“Wait—what do you mean you ‘signed her up’? Genin have to graduate from the Academy first,” Minato lost a little of his serene countenance.

“Money talks,” Kaede shrugged. “Apparently, Konoha is broke. That might explain all the orphans running around,” she muttered. “Anyway, her guardian is bringing her from my world so he can sign off on the paperwork.”

“Your…your world?”

“Whoa!” Kakashi exclaimed, with both eyes opened wide again.

The others followed his gaze upwards to find a massive white dog soaring overhead. It circled a few times as it descended and touched down gracefully on the training grounds. A man with long white hair and dog ears jumped down immediately, then reached up to lift a young girl off the back of the dog.

“Rin!” Obito shouted and ran off to greet the newcomers.

The little girl waved enthusiastically back at them, as the large white dog transformed into a man right before their eyes.

“Wh-where did you say you were from?” Minato stuttered.

“Another dimension,” Kaede gestured one hand as if to brush her cryptic confession off as trivial, “the Bone-Eater’s well acts as a portal to just about anywhere.”

“Excuse me, the what?”

“I wasn’t expecting Sesshōmaru to bring Inuyasha with him,” Kaede squinted at the approaching figures and ignored Minato’s question.

“Are they the girl’s guardians?” Kaguya asked.

“Sesshōmaru is, yes, and Inuyasha is her uncle. This could be troublesome,” Kaede sighed and then offered a bit more by way of explanation. “Sesshōmaru is a dog demon, as you can probably guess, and his brother is a half-demon.”

Kakashi continued to stare at Sesshōmaru in reverent awe until they were near enough to speak, though no one knew what to say.

Eventually, Sakumo broke the shocked silence. “My wife is from the moon,” he announced, unsolicited.

Kaguya stood beside her husband and placed one hand on her son’s shoulder. She then opened her third eye in the middle of her forehead.

Minato fainted.

***

Minato recovered in time to issue the bell test, and pass his first team of Genin, to his delight. After receiving the applause and praise from the small crowd in the parents’ section, the newly formed Team Minato set to kunai practice.

“I don’t know how they can consider those tiny things ‘weapons,’ even Sesshōmaru’s Tenseiga is more dangerous than—”

“Silence, Inuyasha!” Sesshōmaru punctuated his reprimand with a sharp blow to his half-brother’s head, knocking him to the ground.

“Some ninja are trained with swords,” Sakumo offered, “I carry the White Light Chakra Sabre on my missions. And, of course, there are the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, each of whom carries a powerful, renowned blade.”

“Is that so?” Sesshōmaru arched an eyebrow, the only hint at how impressed he was. “Perhaps it would be worth extending our visit in your world,” he said through a slight, but very dangerous, grin.

***

“Minato! I found another one.”

A red-haired woman stormed onto the training grounds with a furious expression on her face, and a terrified, tiny ninja in tow.

“Ah, Kushina, can this wait? We’re in the middle of kunai practice—Nevermind,” he quickly changed his mind when her temper visibly mounted.

“This one hasn’t been able to speak at all,” Kushina’s voice came more gently as she presented the small shinobi to Minato. The young boy turned his large, almond eyes at her, and then to Minato in apparent confusion. “It’s okay,” Kushina soothed as she ran a hand through the boy’s long, mousey brown hair, “stick out your tongue.”

The tiny ninja’s eyes, made impossibly larger through his hesitant expression, darted between Kushina and Minato. After some time and coaxing, however, he tentatively stuck his tongue out at Minato.

Kaguya gasped at the black symbol on the boy’s tongue. Sesshōmaru turned to Kaede and spoke in a chilling voice. “You said that Konoha was overrun with orphans; you didn’t say the village branded them.”

“I had no idea they’d do something so cruel,” Kaede replied, astonished.

“This is highly unusual, I assure you,” Sakumo sputtered. “At least, I hope it is,” he added, under his breath.

Minato began to weave signs silently and with a solemn expression, drawing everyone’s attention. He then pressed his thumb to the boy’s tongue, who shrieked, jumped back, and covered his mouth with both hands.

“I’m sorry that hurt, but it’s the only way to remove the seal,” Minato said, heartbroken.

“Ithss s’okay,” the boy lisped his response which was further muffled by his small, pudgy hands.

“Now then, what’s your name?”

“I-I don’t know. They call me Kinoe, but I’m not sure if that’s what my parents named me before...”

The whole crowd in the parents’ section melted.

Kushina dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the boy. She turned her head to face Minato and stared at him with wide, imploring eyes.

Minato buckled under the weight of so many pairs of pleading eyes and then sighed. “Alright, let’s go talk to Lord Third.” He pointed at Inuyasha. “You, dog demon—”

“Half-demon,” Sesshōmaru corrected.

“Whatever. Can you oversee their target practice until I get back?”

***

“Gah-gah-gah, zu-bah-bah, KUNAI!”

“It’s definitely helping Obito to focus on the target, but I thought that ninja were supposed to be stealthy, aren’t they? This isn’t exactly conducive to sneaking up on an opponent,” Kaede assessed Inuyasha’s teaching techniques aloud.

Inuyasha was helping Rin improve her grip on her own kunai under Sesshōmaru’s careful watch.

Kakashi stood off to the side, attempting to channel his chakra to replicate the Wind Scar. “You can do it, Sweetie!” Kaguya called out to him, causing him to blush above his mask.

“Everyone, this is Tenzō.”

Kushina returned to the training grounds with the tiny ninja on her hip. “Hello, I have a new name,” he waved with a bright, broad grin that melted the crowd in the parents’ section all over again.

Minato followed close behind, looking a bit paler than he had when he left. “Congratulations!” Sakumo met him with a hearty handshake. “Let me guess, she named him before you reached the Hokage’s office, huh,” he added in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, Lord Third pulled out the adoption papers as soon as Kushina walked in carrying him.” Minato’s gaze drifted to his new team of Genin and their chaotic training session. “What the actual fuck is happening here?”

“You left a dog-demon in charge of their training—”

“Half-demon,” Sesshōmaru corrected.

“Inuyasha, their sensei has returned now so you can stop not helping,” Kaede instructed.

“Whaddya mean ‘not helping’? These brats are so weak Shippo could take them—”

“Inuyasha, sit down.” Kaede revealed the depth of her authority and untold power so effectively in those three words that not only Inuyasha but all three Genin and even Sakumo sat down on the training field in absolute obedience.

“Right, next time, I’ll put you in charge,” Minato said, awed. Then he addressed his team while Sakumo did his best to seem casual as he stood up. “We’ll cut the training short today; it is your first day, after all. We’ll just consider this an orientation, and start over fresh tomorrow,” he finished.

Kakashi, Obito, and Rin cheered as they ran to receive the adoration of their respective number one fans after completing their first day as real ninjas.

“Did you see me, Granny?” Obito asked, eager for recognition.

Kaede realized it immediately and chuckled as she smoothed one hand over his spiky hair. “Yes, I did, and I think you’ll be a Ho-ka-ge in no time,” she smiled.

“Do we have to leave right away, Lord Sesshōmaru?” Rin asked as she slipped her hand into her Guardian’s.

“No,” Sesshōmaru spoke in a gentler voice when he addressed his ward, “we will stay as long as it takes for me to complete my quest for the seven swords of the Mist.”

“You can live with us while you do…that,” Kakashi stared wide-eyed at Sesshōmaru as he offered the invitation without consulting his parents. Kaguya and Sakumo exchanged a confused look behind him.

Then Kakashi reached a hand out to pet Sesshōmaru’s fluffy, white fur trim as if he couldn’t resist it any longer, but Kaguya snatched it away, and furthered distracted him by saying, “how should we celebrate your graduation to Genin?”

“Count me out,” Inuyasha turned his back to the group. “As long as we’ll be here, I’m gonna look for jewel shards. Catch you later, losers,” he yelled over his shoulder as he leaped from view.

“I’m afraid I can’t join you either,” Minato lamented. “I have to go buy everything a child would need this afternoon.” Sakumo patted him on the shoulder reassuringly as Minato waved and walked away.

Kushina, however, remained behind with the rest and shifted Tenzō to her other hip. “We could go bowling,” she considered aloud.

“Yeah!” All three Genin shouted.

“What do you think; do you want to go bowling?” Kushina asked Tenzō directly.

He gasped. “Can I really go too?” He asked, melting even Sesshōmaru’s heart this time.

“Let’s go bowling,” Kaede said in her authoritative voice as she turned and strode back to the village, with the rest of the group trailing behind her.

The End

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glorious-blackout · 4 years ago

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Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Part Seven

@rock-n-roll-fantasy I wish I could take credit for a single original idea in this part, but I’ve literally stolen it all from my favourite dramatic space nerd: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SI4g0Sxs1jA 😉

This is technically the last part before the epilogue which should hopefully be posted soon! There may or may not be another hug in this one...

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

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

Consciousness returns to him slowly, expanding in tiny increments over what feels like hours.

It starts with a bone-deep chill settling over his flesh like crystallised ice, followed by a soft breeze ruffling hair which feels longer than he remembers. He finds that he still has fingers, which surprises him somewhat, and he flexes them experimentally against the shifting surface beneath his prone form. Fine grains of sand cling to his palms in the process, though he lacks the strength to wipe them clean. Acute awareness of his shirt clinging to his chest sends a flurry of discomfort through his spine, and a choked-off groan escapes his lips when he becomes all-too-aware of the many layers of sweat coating his skin. The only thing that doesn’t return is vision. All other senses creep back to him with a pace that would rival a snail’s, but his surroundings remain as black as an endless void, and he lets the darkness carry him off into a doze once or twice.

It occurs to him that he appears to be alive, despite having prepared for an entirely different outcome. He can’t say he knows how to feel about that. There had been something so peaceful about the notion of simply fading away, comforted by reclaimed memories of home, and this current uncertainty is far more terrifying than finality could ever be.

And yet, there is no denying his survival. The first sound to return to his ears is his own heartbeat; slow at first, only to quicken as anxiety infects his brain. Shallow breaths fill his lungs with precious oxygen, and before long his discomfort at being curled up like an overgrown child force him to stretch limbs which feel arthritic in their creaking stiffness. Eventually the sound of his thudding heart is muted by the rush of crashing waves and the hiss of a cool breeze kissing the earth. It takes longer than it should for his mind to paint a picture – to comprehend the impossibility of hearing ocean waves on the place he now calls home – and his breathing only grows more rapid when he opens his eyes.

The pervading darkness doesn’t abate.

He can’t see.

Alex blinks several times in quick succession, consumed by panic, but no light invades his retinas no matter how desperately he tries to focus. A harsh gasp rips through him, only to erupt into painful, hacking coughs as his mouth fills with sand, choking him with the taste of earth and salt. With trembling limbs, he lifts his torso from the ground and retches in an attempt to clear his throat, feeling hot tears stream down his face as his airway clears at an agonising pace. When he can finally breathe again, the cool sea-air soothes his lungs and has him closing his eyes in newfound bliss. A shaky hand comes up to feel his forehead and he frowns as he becomes all-too-aware of an unseen vice squeezing his skull, as though trying to force his brain out through his ears. The frown only deepens when his fingers trace smooth metal instead of warm skin.

Before any ridiculous notions can fill his head - no doubt concerning cyborgs - he traces the curve of metal downwards until he reaches a groove resting just below his eyes. The vice is a helmet. A tight one, certainly, but no more a part of him than his battered shirt. Further exploration reveals a conspicuous lack of visor or straps, or even wires plugged into god knows what. The sheer unfamiliarity of the device grows with every second it remains fused to his skull, compounded by the absolute certainty that he wants it off.

Before he can second-guess the logic of his decision, he tugs on the helmet with all the force he can muster. Meeting more resistance than expected, he lets out a cry of frustration before easing both palms underneath the groove and shoving upwards with all his might. The force of the device pressing against his skull has stars bursting behind his eyes and nausea rising in his gut. A shock of pain followed by the sensation of wetness implies that blood has been spilt, but he eventually manages to free himself from the helmet’s clutches with his skull somewhat intact, and a choked sob escapes his throat as colours flood through his vision, revealing his surroundings at long last.

Still heaving from a mixture of nausea and elation, he watches as a stiff breeze scatters sand over the sleek surface of a device which resembles his old virtual reality mask too closely for comfort. Matt’s birthday gift had been considerably less confining, but the resemblance is still close enough to have Alex shuddering. Warm wetness trickles from his temples into his thoroughly mussed hair, and he reaches up only for his fingers to come back coated in red. The flow of blood is sluggish, however, and the pain little more than a negligible throb. The wound is no more than a scratch.

A small price to pay for the view that greets him when he turns his head seaward.

The sunset is a brilliant collage of pinks and oranges spread across an endless sky like broad paint strokes, occasionally interrupted by thick clouds shifting like ghostly shadows over calm waters. The sun rests just above the water’s surface, its outline vibrating as the ocean spreads its golden glow like a halo. Closer to home, calm waves wash up against a golden shore, leaving masses of seaweed and froth in their wake. The resounding crash as they batter the hardened sand before politely receding tugs his lips upwards into a dazed smile. He never thought he’d see the ocean again. Never thought he’d feel sand beneath his feet or watch the sun from afar or idly gaze upon overhanging gulls scouting the waters for prey. The hotel pool had been a poor substitute. As tempting as its waters always looked, he cannot recall seeing them so much as ripple in all the time he’d observed them. Had he ever taken the plunge himself and dived beneath the surface? He honestly can’t remember now. Nor can he recall any guests disturbing the water’s calm surface either. In comparison to the sight which greets him now, the only significant body of water on the moon had been a positively dull affair.

It occurs to him far too late that he knows this beach. As he casts his eye along the seemingly endless shoreline, disturbed by scattered driftwood and craggy cliffs, he recalls several early-morning runs along the adjacent paths and quickly-terminated attempts at surfing. In theory, the gaudy comforts of Los Angeles should lie just behind him, barely miles away from the shore. When he turns to look, however, he finds that such hopes are quickly dashed. The coast may be familiar, but the colossal sand dunes stretching beyond it are an entirely new finding. What little greenery remains is brittle and broken, swaying stiffly in the breeze with little resistance.

Not that that’s the most striking thing to befall his eyes. The lifeless remains of a landscape he once called home appear almost unremarkable in the face of the half-buried monstrosity peering directly at him from beneath a rounded helmet.

The creature appears to be dead. At the very least it remains unmoving, jaw locked in an eternal snarl as it leers towards the clouded sky. One towering, skeletal hand pokes out from the sand to point at an unseen insult with a single extended phalynx. Beneath metal plates which appear rusted by the humid sea-air, the creature is little more than faded bone held together by silver ligaments; its gaping mouth and nose consisting only of empty sockets. Alex can’t even bring himself to fear it. Perhaps he did once. A pang of recognition gnaws at him, and it occurs to him that the reason his heart hasn’t stopped is because this particular image no longer has the power to frighten him. The only emotion he can muster for it now is misguided pity.

The helmet encircling the creature’s skull is the spitting image of the device lying dejected by his side. Is that what Alex would have looked like eventually? Had he remained within the confines of the hotel for all eternity, would some future remnant of humanity have stumbled upon him half-buried beneath the sand, with nothing left of him but discoloured bone?

He suspects he already knows the answer to that, and he rejects the mental image with a shudder.

The evening is growing cold and he isn’t exactly dressed for it. Glancing down at his attire, he notes a torn pair of jeans and a faded white shirt resting beneath a blue cotton jacket. He remembers this get-up all-too-well. It’s the last thing he ever wore on Earth; the mismatched outfit he’d pulled on when the call to evacuate tore him from his rest. The outfit he’d been wearing when he and Miles navigated their way through a desperate crowd, before being torn apart and left drifting in spite of their efforts to crawl back to each other.

Miles... He needs to find him. The others too; Jamie, Nick, Matt and anyone else who has ever remotely mattered to him. He’s well aware that doing so is likely impossible. God only knows how long he spent trapped in that carefully crafted lie; millions of years may have passed for all he knows.

Only, he has to try. Has to believe there was a reason for coming home, otherwise what was the point of waking up at all?

Forcing himself to his feet with all the elegance of a newborn foal, he casts a glance in all directions only to find himself incapable of picking one. Whichever way he looks, the road ahead appears to be endless. A couple of experimental steps is enough to bring back recollections of stumbling through hotel corridors - real and imagined - drunk out of his mind and craving unconsciousness. His mind feels out of sync with his limbs; his synapses reduced to a tangled mess, with all the instructions winding up at the wrong destinations. Even standing still doesn’t spare him from swaying in the breeze like a weightless leaf.

His weakness should bother him, maybe even frighten him a little, but he’s too tired for that. Perhaps if he lets sleep claim him he will wake up in his own home, cradled in the arms of someone he loves, to find that this whole mess has been an elaborate dream. He may even get a few songs out of it. Paul McCartney had used that technique once or twice, he recalls, though he imagines his dreams didn’t revolve around space hotels and simulated realities.

That line of thinking sends a huff of laughter shooting through him, and he shakes his head before directing his attention back to the ocean. He feels like he’s going mad. Who knows, maybe he is? It certainly wouldn’t surprise him at this rate. As he watches the surface of the waves shimmer beneath the light of a tangerine sky, he cannot help but think there must be no better place to lose one’s mind. Perhaps waking was a mistake. There would certainly be worse fates than being unknowingly buried beneath the shifting sands while his consciousness remained lost on the moon.

He shakes his head to rid himself of such morbid thoughts and closes his eyes, just for a moment. Just long enough to embrace the coolness of the breeze sending goosebumps across his flesh; the familiar sensation of sand between his toes; the taste of salt in the air and the strong tang of seaweed hitting his nostrils. Sensations which are simultaneously alien and familiar to him. Sensations which help him believe that, despite any lingering doubts, he must surely have made his way home.

Whether hours or minutes pass in his sightless haven, he cannot say. Time no longer appears to have meaning; the only indication of it passing at all is the growing fatigue in legs which are still unused to supporting his weight. Even that mild discomfort is dismissed easily enough, and when his reverie is ultimately shattered, the culprit lies much further afield. A small frown creases his features before he can begin to process the new interruption, but eventually he hones in on the sound of a distant thudding, gaining volume with each passing second. It doesn’t take long for his heartbeat to join the fray, but he buries any panic and opens his eyes as the rhythmic hammering starts to resemble hoofbeats, of all things.

Sure enough, he’s left gaping as a sleek black shadow approaches from the distance, hooves battering the sand relentlessly. The lone horse doesn’t claim Alex’s attention for long, however, for that is quickly snatched by the lit beacon carried upon its back. Vibrant against the darkening sky, the rider appears to be sheathed in the broken remnants of a disco ball. Shifting reds and purples emanate from what Alex presumes to be a torso, while a pair of glowing blue eyes scan the horizon like a lighthouse beam encircling the coast. The sight is ridiculous and unexpected all at once, but Alex hardly needs to be told who the new arrival is before the details become clearer. As the horse draws closer, it becomes evident that the shifting lights originate from illuminated LEDs adorning a ludicrous nylon jacket; that blazing blue eyes are in fact a pair of neon sunglasses, and that the lone rider who looks like he just leapt off the set of a sci-fi western is the very same man who dragged Alex into this mess in the first place.

Matthew draws his equine companion to an abrupt halt with a tug on a set of makeshift reins, responding to the horse’s harsh admonishment with a gentle “Woah!” before patting its mane with an ungloved hand. The hand still holding the reins in a death-grip is concealed by a clunky silver contraption which appears to be a strange mix of metal glove and animatronic limb. Alex doesn’t let himself focus on it for too long, lest the sheer unrelenting oddness of everything he’s seeing finally break him. The only emotion he can summon as he watches Matt dismount with unexpected grace is a vague acceptance – too tired to be shocked by anything anymore – followed by a twinge of fear as the jet-black mare regards him with a distrusting gaze.

“Alex?” Matt asks with thinly veiled disbelief, and Alex pulls his gaze away from the idle horse to face the new arrival.

The sunglasses have been removed and the LEDs shut off without him noticing, possibly to spare his retinas. Without all the showy effects, Matt looks as small and lost in the world as Alex feels. His blue eyes are wide, as though distrusting the image before him, and a tiny broken smile tugs at his lips before being discouraged by that very same distrust. It almost looks like he wants to say something but cannot bring himself to for fear a spell will break.

Alex can relate to that much at least. Any attempt to respond is cut short as his throat closes off, and he’s forced to settle for a sharp nod instead.

The gesture is confirmation enough, it seems. Matt’s face brightens as a wide grin stretches across his cheeks, his eyes sparkling in the light of a fading sun, and the sheer force of his relief is so palpable that Alex feels his own heart being lifted by it.

“I was starting to think I was alone,” Matt utters, almost as a whisper. While his smile doesn’t fade, Alex can sense the other man’s residual terror all too clearly. The same thought had crossed his own mind, though he’d refused to contemplate it for fear his sanity would snap like a dry twig.

It occurs to him that he’s still gaping, despite the fact that he’s hardly surprised to find Matt of all people standing right in front of him. Who else would it be? Matthew uncovered the falsehood of their reality long before Alex could even remember his own name. No doubt there’s a direct correlation between Matt’s actions following his brief stint at the hotel and Alex winding up on this very beach. The exact details may remain a complete mystery to him, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that everything that’s occurred since that night at the bar is Matt’s fault, directly or otherwise.

Alex doesn’t know whether he wants to punch him or kiss him.

He settles for neither, which is less a conscious decision and more a choice thrust upon him by instinct. Turns out the only thing he can do as Matt starts to approach is laugh. Wild, hysterical laughter tears from his chest with so much force that it hurts. Tears gather in exhausted eyes and he’s forced to curl in on himself as his muscles cramp from the sheer force of his hysteria. He cannot help but wonder if this is the point of no return; the point where his mind finally shatters into fragments under the weight of all it’s been forced to endure. Barely five feet away, Matt freezes and his face falls with what might be terror, sending a pang of guilt shooting through Alex in the process. He can only imagine what he must look like now - a lone barefoot lunatic with unkempt hair, cackling at the sunset.

“I’m fine,” he manages to choke out with some difficulty, though he doubts he sounds convincing. His laughter abates eventually, though aftershocks continually threaten to send him into a fit of giggles at any moment. Matt hardly looks relieved by his self-assessment, not that Alex can blame him for that. “I’m fine, it’s just... Do you have any other clothes?”

Matt freezes, momentarily stunned, and Alex can’t help but feel proud that he’s been able to stump Matt rather than it being the other way round. Matt recovers quickly though. A choked laugh erupts without warning and he runs his bare hand through his reliably wayward hair, mouth gaping with the force of his relief.

“Oh, thank fuck for that!” he exclaims, the words carried on another shaky laugh as he finally deems Alex safe to approach. His outfit does look rather ridiculous up-close, Alex notes with a sense of validation. When they’re not lit up like a Christmas tree, the LEDs pasted onto his jacket are little more than a mass of wires and unlit panels. “I thought you were off your rocker for a second there.”

“Give it time,” Alex responds with a weak smile, casting his eyes to the soft sand beneath his feet before he can erupt into another bout of shaky laughter. No doubt the madness will come eventually, but the longer he can put it off, the better. It’s a bad sign that Matt seems to be the reasonably sane one out of the pair of them. That said, a frustrated whicker from the nearby horse is enough to remind Alex of the other man’s rather dramatic entrance, so the outcome of that particular contest may yet be undecided.

Without thinking, Alex staggers the rest of the way towards Matt and proceeds to pull him into a forceful hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck and closing his eyes in contentment. He’s not usually in the habit of hugging random people at will. Friends yes – often enthusiastically – but strangers less so, unless they specifically ask. That said, Matt hardly feels like a stranger anymore. Alex can probably count their total encounters on one hand, but that hardly matters in this moment. His relief at being reunited with another human being is too suffocating to ignore.

Matt freezes in his arms like a frightened statue, releasing a gasp as Alex clings to him with childlike desperation. Before Alex has the chance to free him, however, he feels a pair of arms wrap hesitantly around his torso before squeezing him gently.

“It’s good to see you,” Alex whispers, surprised by how strongly he means it. He feels Matt’s arms grip him tighter in response, all prior hesitation gone, and he sighs at the comfort of being able to hold a solid human being again. It nags at him that the act of embracing Matthew feels little different than hugging Jamie or Nick or his Matt had felt back at the hotel, but he casts such thoughts aside. This has to be real. He won’t accept anything else.

“It’s good to see you too,” Matt says, his voice dripping with such earnest sincerity that it feels like they truly have been friends for decades.

They remain like that for several minutes, clutching each other tightly like lost children huddling for warmth. Matt is the first to break the hug, pulling away with a hint of reluctance, but he keeps his hands glued to Alex’s shoulders as he casts his eyes over him with burning scrutiny. “Can’t say I rate your fashion sense either. I much preferred you as a swanky hotel manager.”

“Oh, come off it!” Alex scoffs, not bothering to mask a shy smile. Compared to Matt, he imagines he must look like he just stumbled out of a rundown vintage charity shop, though his outfit probably looked far more appealing before he decided to take a nap on the beach.

With considerable reluctance, he breaks away from Matt’s hold – the sudden absence of human warmth settling upon him like a stone – before turning to observe the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Matt doing the same, as though only now acknowledging his surroundings. Together they watch as the sun makes its final descent beneath the waves, leaving a fiery streak upon the water’s edge as an echoing golden glow lingers in the distance. Alex can’t recall the last time he watched a sunset, never mind the last time he allowed himself to fully appreciate one. How he ever thought he could live without this view is beyond him, and the vital question hanging over his head tugs at his heart with newfound insistence.

“Is this real?” he asks, with a tremble in his voice which cannot be masked no matter how hard he tries. Not that he needs to. Matt of all people must surely grasp the gravity of his question. He’s also the only one likely to know the answer with any degree of certainty. “Are we home?”

His desperation isn’t lost on Matt it seems, for he turns to Alex with an expression which appears almost apologetic in the light of a dying sun.

“I wish I knew,” he admits, running a hand through his hair in a gesture which betrays his anxiety. The lack of a solid answer makes Alex’s heart sink, but he supposes that was inevitable. By this point he trusts Matt not to lie to him. “Honestly, I thought I’d be dead by now.”

The words are carried on a disbelieving sigh, followed by a nervous chuckle as Matt drops his gaze and frees his hand from his unruly hair, letting the strands dance willfully in the breeze. If Alex had to guess, he would wager that Matt is currently trapped between the two lines of emotion that he himself is still battling; torn between utter relief at being alive and bone-chilling terror with regard to the uncertainty of their situation. He can’t help but wonder if Matt’s story mirrors his own. If he too had awoken one day to find his world trembling in the wake of an unseen force, before watching it all crumble before his eyes. Or had he taken a more active role in his reality’s destruction? Had the quake which ultimately claimed Mark’s identity, along with the hotel itself, been a by-product of Matt trying to fight his way home?

He should be upfront and ask him, Alex thinks, but something in the man’s demeanor stops him and all he can utter is, “Yeah, you and me both.”

The admission draws Matt’s gaze back to his own and Alex feels himself shrink at the sudden scrutiny. A momentary flash of sheer misery passes over Matt’s face; so infinitesimal that Alex can’t help but wonder if he’s merely projecting his own grief onto the other man. It appears to have been genuine however, for even when Matt’s lips tug upwards to form a weak smile, his eyes refuse to reflect any sense of lightness.

It strikes Alex that, in many ways, Matt is still a stranger to him. While he could read every miniscule detail of Miles’ face or the expressions of his bandmates as clearly as he could read a book, Matt’s true emotions remain buried behind a lock for which he does not possess a key. As grateful as he is for the other man’s presence – and he is – his traitorous mind cannot help but wish that the person standing before him now was more familiar; more beloved.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says eventually, as though having read his mind, and deep blue eyes bore into Alex’s own with an intensity that must pain him.

“What for?” he asks, though he doubts there’s a clear answer to that. Alex is sorry too, for a great many things. No doubt trying to list his failures at this point would only result in a very muddled list: ‘I’m sorry for allowing myself to lose my mind. I’m sorry for not realising that my friends weren’t real until it was too late. I’m sorry for letting myself get tricked for so long. I’m sorry I forgot you. I’m sorry I lost my grip on your hand...’

Matt appears to be caught in the same predicament. His mouth opens as though he means to say something, but he clenches it shut before any noise can escape, settling for shaking his head instead. His eyes glance towards the ocean for a moment, watching the distant waves crash against jutting rock, leaving mist and spray in their wake, but disinterest claims him quickly. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to point in the opposite direction, and he stills, only momentarily, at the sight of the hulking beast lying buried beneath the dunes.

If the creature surprises him, he does an excellent job of masking it. Given how easily he recovers - settling himself upon the cool sand and casually drawing his knees up to his chest - Alex doubts this is Matt’s first rodeo with the dead creature.

“Ugly fucker, isn’t he?” Matt utters with a twinge of sharp malice which doesn’t suit him.

Alex doesn’t respond. The question strikes him as rhetorical anyway, yet he can’t help but agree as he slumps inelegantly next to Matt. With the light beginning to fade, the intricate details of machinery latched onto the oversized exoskeleton are beginning to conceal themselves from view, leaving only the impression of a sad, lonely creature reaching out for solace it will never be granted.

“I remember seeing him on the news, not long after the wildfires got bad,” Matt says, not seeming to care if Alex listens to him or not. The mention of wildfires is enough to have Alex flinching however; even if he’d wanted to tune Matt out, his mind would refuse to allow it. Through Matt’s casual utterance, he’s just been handed proof that his broken memories from before the hotel – memories of heat and panic and being ripped away from his one beacon of hope – are genuine. Or rather, he now knows that those memories are shared with at least one other human being. “Figured it was just another hoax. It’s not like we had a shortage of those at the time.”

Alex tries to cast his mind back to those final days. To the build-up preceding the calls to evacuate; to the anxiety-inducing news broadcasts which stopped wielding the power to surprise him by the fifth apocalyptic declaration. Much as he tries, he cannot summon a clear recollection of anything beyond a mounting sense of dread. Casting his mind back unveils only a thick fog in the stead of clear memories, and he cannot help but begrudge Matt for sounding so certain when discussing the past.

And yet, something does appear to be clicking. He’d noticed it earlier, hadn’t he? When faced with the creature back in his suite, his shock had ultimately been compounded by a vague sense of recognition. If he clears his mind and closes his eyes, holding the image of the creature’s broken body in his head, he manages to capture a flicker of recollection; a still image of a towering robotic skeleton on a television screen - the photograph blurred and taken from a distance - while a bedraggled newscaster mutters something about mass disappearances. His resigned delivery had been interrupted by a Scouse accent, breaking in with a disbelieving, “Oh great, even more bollocks!” which had made Alex laugh before changing the channel.

If only Miles had been right on that count.

“That’s the thing that’s been controlling us all this time?”

Alex knows as soon as he utters the words that he already knows the answer. The momentary glimpse he’d stolen of the creature hadn’t been a trick of the light, or an exhaustion-induced hallucination, or even a computer glitch. It had been Murphy all along, intentionally letting the mask slip as punishment for Mark’s attempts at resistance. It had been the actions of a watchful tormenter letting him know, in no uncertain terms, who was truly in control. No doubt he had done so with the intention of making Alex believe he was going mad; the jury still appears to be out on whether he succeeded or not.

No wonder Murphy always appeared as a broken amalgamation, never fully adding up to a cohesive human being. What could a creature like him possibly understand about being human?

“Us and a million other poor sods, I reckon,” Matt confirms with a grim nod, hands clenching tightly as he wraps his arms around his knees. His jacket creaks awkwardly with every movement and his ridiculous glove gives a soft whine as it’s moulded into the shape of a fist. “That’s what he does, you see. He takes control of people’s minds and traps them in a never-ending game for his own amusement. Or at least that’s what I gathered. He tried to make his intentions sound nobler than that but trust me, that’s the gist.”

A lone brow rises in response to Matt’s admission, but Alex thinks better of questioning him about it. The fact that the creature supposedly confronted Matt head-on is hardly an earth-shattering revelation. It had spoken to Alex too after all, on a fairly regular basis at that. They’d had appointments and everything; allotted moments in time to allow Murphy to keep him compliant. True, Murphy had never exactly been upfront with Mark about his true nature, but given that Matt cracked the code long before Alex realised there was even a code to crack, he supposes it makes sense that the beast had been more direct with him.

Perhaps that encounter is what ultimately killed it? It seems so unlikely given Matt’s unassuming stature, but at this point Alex is willing to believe that nothing is truly impossible anymore.

“I just wish I could remember how he did it,” Matt continues, a trace of palpable frustration seeping into his otherwise conversational tone. “Last thing I remember is Elle waking me up when the sirens started and running to get the kids out of bed. Everything after that is just...gone.”

Though he forces his expression to remain neutral, Alex can’t mistake the feeling of ice slipping into his veins. Matt’s experience mirrors his own far too closely for comfort. He can barely remember the call to evacuate emanating through the city, but he remembers the frantic aftermath clearly enough. He can still taste the ash and poison in the air; can hear echoes of Miles’s desperate reassurances as they forced their way through a panicked horde. While the memories preceding that moment are partially concealed behind a shifting fog, the events that followed may as well lie beyond a brick wall. There’s nothing to latch onto. No half-forgotten sights or smells, not even vivid emotions. His final hours on Earth before waking up in Mark’s skin are as unreachable as they are unknowable.

All Alex can determine with any certainty is that whatever happened to him and Matt and those million other poor sods, it must have been terrible.

His stunned silence stretches to the point of becoming uncomfortable, and he can feel Matt’s worried gaze turning in his direction, but he cannot bring himself to break the spell. He tries to re-orientate himself; focuses on the cool sand beneath his feet, the scattered grains sticking between his toes. Focuses on the ever-present rush of water behind him; the occasional huffs from the patient black horse strolling nearby; the sounds of Matt’s jacket crinkling with every movement. Focuses on the unmoving creature before him and tries not to let hatred consume the tattered remains of his heart.

There’s a chill in the air now which sends a shiver through his thin frame. Night is beginning to fall. Already the last traces of orange are starting to fade, making way for deep blues dotted with shimmering pinpricks. There are certainly worse places to be, he thinks, though he can’t help but long for a warm embrace instead of the bone-chilling breeze.

Matt’s voice, when it eventually returns, is a fair substitute however. The reminder that he’s not alone does more to lift his spirits than he could ever have deemed possible.

“I got sent back to the Battle of the Bands,” Matt explains, eyes downcast as long fingers play distractedly with scattered grains of sand. “We were back in Teignmouth, performing in clubs to audiences consisting of one man and his dog. We were even calling ourselves ‘Rocket Baby Dolls’ like a bunch of twats,” he adds with a warm smile, and Alex struggles to hold back a grin of his own. He supposes he’s in no position to judge. He’d actually committed to his silly band name in the long run instead of discarding it in his teens. “Wasn’t quite as fancy as your hotel, but it had its moments. Almost felt like the good old days, only for some reason it was the eighties and we still looked like old geezers.”

“Guess that explains the clothes then?” Alex interjects, and a warm sense of pride flows through him when Matt releases a surprised chuckle before conceding Alex’s point with a bashful shrug.

Alex’s smile doesn’t fade despite the heavy exhaustion which stubbornly clings to his bones. He can certainly relate to Matt’s experience in a sense. Among the madness that characterised his own customised reality, he’d found solace in playing regular shows with the lads by his side. It had been a much-needed strand of consistency to keep him grounded when everything else in his life was so fundamentally different. A taste of normality in an environment where normality was an increasingly rare commodity.

“It was nice for a while,” Matt continues, a wistful smile resting on his lips. “Maybe I could have stayed there forever. There was something so pure about being able to play with my mates like we were teenagers again, y’know? But I always sensed that something was wrong. Took me fucking ages to figure out what, but I always knew that something important was missing.”

The smile fades and Alex feels a familiar discomfort nagging at his chest. He’d become accustomed to that very feeling. Despite the constant buzz of activity in the hotel and the fact that his friends were always a mere phone-call away, the most pervasive emotion he’d experienced was a deep, all-consuming loneliness. His days were spent surrounded by other human beings – many of them perfectly warm, friendly people – but his heart had grasped onto his crushing isolation long before his mind had a chance to catch up. No doubt the absence of several key figures like Miles and his parents had played a part in that, but he’d spent his days surrounded by convincing replicas of his lifelong friends and even they hadn’t been capable of filling the void.

“I missed Chris and Dom,” Matt goes on, and not for the first time Alex wonders if the man is capable of reading his mind. “Which was fucking ridiculous. I mean, they were always with me. We’d spend hours playing shows together, or getting pissed and having a laugh, but none of that changed how I felt. I still missed them so much it physically hurt. It was like my instincts were trying to tell me that they weren’t real before I had the chance to figure that out for myself.”

He stops tracing circles along the sand, wiping his grainy hand on crimson jeans before staring up at the unmoving creature with weary eyes. For the first time since their unexpected reunion, Alex realises that Matt is as thoroughly drained as he is. Despite the fact that his eyes are fixed upon the creature which sentenced them both to a broken falsehood, there’s no longer any rage simmering in their depths. It looks like Matt is staring straight through the creature, its presence barely registering as a blip on his radar. Only the tension gripping his shivering frame gives any indication that he’s still orientated to the present and not lost a million miles away.

“How’d you get out?” Alex asks with newfound curiosity. It isn’t lost on him that there are still major gaps in Matt’s story. He didn’t simply come to the conclusion that his world wasn’t real and then sit back quietly; he’d fought the notion tooth and nail. He’d wound up in Alex’s reality - and no doubt countless others - and used the opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in Mark’s head, ultimately orchestrating his mental unravelling. On at least one occasion, he had been forced to escape while armed caricatures of his best friends set out to hunt him down and kill him. Had they followed him wherever he went? Had the creature been so frightened of this one man that he’d sent assassins in the shape of his friends to mentally torment him?

Did Matt kill the creature as revenge for all the pain it had caused him?

“It’s a long story,” Matt confesses evasively, and Alex feels his heart sink a little.

“That’s alright,” he says, trying to hide his eagerness before it can become obnoxious. No doubt many aspects of Matt’s story will be as painful as his own, and he has little desire to pry into details which are none of his business, but he settles for honesty regardless. “I’d like to hear it.”

Matt’s eyes meet Alex’s own, studying him intently before a soft, sincere smile takes hold. There’s a bittersweet quality to it, marred by lingering exhaustion, and Alex suspects he will not get his wish. Not tonight anyway. The lack of outright refusal or hostility carries a certain promise, however, and he’s able to bury his disappointment easily enough once Matt confirms those suspicions.

“Maybe one day,” Matt says, and against his better judgement, Alex believes him. “A lot of it doesn’t even make sense to me yet. I still need time to sort my head out. But I’ll tell you all about it one day, if you still want me to.”

Alex doubts there will ever come a time where he doesn’t want to hear a firsthand account of Matt’s adventures, if only to help him join the dots between the hotel and this beach. Maybe then everything will start to make sense for him too. He doesn’t say as much, but his small smile and earnest nod must be convincing enough to assure Matt that he won’t be interrogated further tonight.

“Besides,” Matt continues, voice loaded with sudden conviction as he stretches his legs out in front of him. “We should head off before it gets dark.”

“And go where?” Alex interjects, with more force than he intends. “Where the hell do we even go from here?”

“I suppose that depends,” Matt says, seemingly unfazed by Alex’s outburst if the amused smirk tugging at his lips is any indication. “Assuming we really have made it home and this isn’t some cruel trick, where do you wanna go? What’s next on the agenda, Turner?”

The question is asked so flippantly, rendered even more so by Matt’s rapid-fire delivery, that Alex finds himself throwing his head back in a startled laugh. Planning ahead when the future is so unknowable and the world so fundamentally alien is a tall order, but he supposes Matt’s right. They can’t stay here forever.

“You’re giving me way too much credit if you think I actually have an answer to that,” he admits once his fitful laughter has died down. Matt seems to agree if his high-pitched giggle and muffled utterance of “fair enough” is any indication.

It’s still a valid question though, and one he’ll need to ponder sooner or later. If he truly has made it home and is no longer confined to a reality consisting of algorithms and complex coding, what is there left for him to do? He’s fairly certain he’s in Los Angeles, but based on appearances alone there’s little remaining of the city to go back to. Any bolt-holes of his have likely been razed to the ground and subjected to the ravages of time. Safety is no longer guaranteed to him, and if the world is as ruined as he remembers, he may never feel safe again.

Of course, none of that truly matters. He knows exactly what he wants to do. Whether it’s actually achievable remains to be seen, but he knows he would rather die than give up without at least trying.

“I wanna go home,” he admits, more so to himself than to Matt. His voice is small and fragile to his ears, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I want to find my friends. I have to know that they’re safe.”

Matt doesn’t say anything, not immediately anyway, but Alex doesn’t miss the almost imperceptible change that overcomes him. The signs are subtle enough. A minute clench of the jaw, a brief downwards twitch of the lips, the fact that despite being rather personable all evening, Matt suddenly can’t bring himself to look Alex in the eye. Alex could pry and ask what’s wrong but he suspects he already knows. He can’t help but silently wonder just how closely Matt’s agenda aligns with his own.

The spell breaks quickly. Matt forces a smile back onto his face and drags himself to his feet with little fanfare, brushing sand from his clothes with visible distaste. Alex doesn’t follow, not trusting himself to stand on his own two feet without stumbling. Instead he simply watches Matt approach his four-legged companion, attempting to appease her in spite of her displeasure at having been ignored for so long, and the sight sends a certain thrill through him. He cannot ascertain if it’s a thrill of excitement or fear. Most likely it’s both. It occurs to Alex that if he wants to leave here with Matt, he’ll most likely end up joining him on horseback, and he wonders if the night is going to end with him falling and breaking his neck mid-canter. It would certainly be an anti-climactic end after all he’s endured, and the mental image has him releasing a huff of laughter, but when Matt returns with a slightly calmer horse in tow, the overwhelming emotion flowing through him is one of terror.

“Shall we?” Matt proposes, offering a hand to Alex which he takes gratefully.

He still feels unsteady when he’s guided to his feet, like a recently awoken coma patient who no longer remembers how legs work. Matt stays close by however, offering help where needed, and the reassurance has an immediate calming effect. Some trepidation must still linger on his features, for when Matt spots him staring at the hulking black shadow, he releases an amused giggle before clapping Alex on the shoulder. “I promise Midnight won’t bite. Not unless you piss her off.”

“I weren’t planning on it,” Alex mutters warily, but he swallows down his fear easily enough.

Maneuvering onto the horse is a rather clumsy affair given the makeshift equipment and the fact that the saddle is clearly designed for one person only, but he succeeds with significant help from Matt. Any protests the mare may have to his presence are hushed by Matt’s surprisingly soothing influence, and the smaller man soon joins Alex with relative ease in spite of the monstrosity adorning his left hand. Alex will need to ask him what it’s for one day, but right now they have an uneasy journey ahead of them. Random curiosities can wait.

With the flick of a concealed switch, Matt lights up once again like a Christmas tree, and Alex has to avert his gaze to avoid being blinded. The light is somewhat comforting given how dark the night has become however, and he doesn’t need to be prompted into wrapping his arms securely around Matt’s waist. They take off at a steady trot at first, easing their way carefully along the sandy beach, but as the mare grows more comfortable, she carries them away with a brisk canter along an untrodden path.

An overwhelming sense of freedom pulses through Alex’s veins, as the world passes by in a blur and the wind flows through his unruly hair. Though he can hardly say he feels particularly secure, the thrill is intoxicating nonetheless. He glances back towards the spot where he awoke, casting one final look upon the broken creature who manipulated his mind, until Midnight turns a sharp corner and the shadow is lost from view.

Good riddance, Alex thinks. He hopes the sand covers Murphy entirely, erasing any trace that he was ever here.

As the horizon becomes more difficult to interpret beneath the darkening sky, Alex allows his gaze to aim upwards. The view that greets him is fundamentally different to the one he’s grown accustomed to, but the warm sense of comfort which fills his chest is exactly the same. In the absence of clouds or pollution, the sky is ablaze with stars, scattered across a vast canvas like sparkling polka dots. Some shine brighter than others, and Alex spends some time trying to determine if they’re actually planets before deciding it doesn’t matter. The sight is beautiful either way, and he honestly didn’t expect to ever lay eyes on it again.

The crowning glory steals his attention before long, as she guides them onwards with her luminous glow. It’s a full moon tonight, and the sight sends a bittersweet ache through his heart. It’s been a long time since he saw her from this angle, yet her beauty remains untarnished. He allows himself to imagine being back on her surface when times were simpler. Imagines the smooth walls of the hotel and the delicate blues of the pool and the inviting neon interior of the casino. Imagines the elevated highway splitting the youthful town in half as it stretched towards the towering station. Imagines the rockets flying to and fro above his head, while he watched from his perch on the hotel balcony.

No doubt the moon’s surface will be barren now, but it’s easy to pretend that his tiny civilisation still rests upon her surface. Alex knows he shouldn’t miss it, but the sight of her gazing down at him instils an overwhelming sense of nostalgia nonetheless. It was home once. If he casts his mind back far enough, he can even remember being happy there. His existence within the hotel had certainly carried moments of isolation and exhaustion, but ultimately it had felt safe. No doubt that safety was as much a falsehood as everything else around him, but now that he’s returned to this earthly plane, it strikes him that he may never acquire that level of contentment again. Even in exhilarating moments like this, he is doomed to always be looking over his shoulder for signs of danger, waiting for the end to sneak up on him unannounced. It’s one of the major drawbacks to consisting of flesh and bone after all; his newfound freedom has rendered him breakable.

None of that matters though. Not in this precise moment. The heart-stopping fear will come with time, no doubt accompanied by a generous dollop of grief, but in this precise moment it feels as though nothing can truly hurt him. Casting aside any lingering doubts, Alex rests his head against Matt’s curved back and lets his mind go blank; carried away by the rhythmic beat of hooves against the sand and the soft light of the moon’s pale glow.

#Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino #simulation theory #Arctic Monkeys #muse #my fic #writing

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kwanisms · 6 years ago

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The Day Death Fell in Love - pjy

⤑ genre: angst, a tiny bit of fluff, smut ⤑ pairing: reaper!Jinyoung x human!Reader ⤑ warning: sexual content, supernatural themes, major character death ⤑ summary: They say you only become a grim reaper if you’ve done something terrible in a past life. Whether or not that's true, Jinyoung didn’t care. He had a job to do and he did his job well, guiding souls to the afterlife. That is, until he met (Y/N). ⤑ word count: 12.5k

a/n: There are a lot of scene changes but I wanted to show passage of time. For what you’re about to read, just know that I love you all and I am sorry. I listened to this song a lot while writing this. TBH, just listen to the entire piano cover of the OST here lol

Jinyoung checked the time on the card he received. It held today's date, a timestamp and a name.

Checking his watch, he saw that the time was only 11:04. Only 42 minutes left. He waited at the bus stop like any regular commuter only Jinyoung was anything but ordinary.

Jinyoung was a reaper.

Jinyoung didn't remember when or how he became a reaper. He just remembered that he was one. He didn't remember any past life or any details surrounding his death. He just existed. It was his job to guide the recently deceased.

The bus pulled up and Jinyoung stood, with the other commuters, all entirely unaware of his presence. Reapers lived like regular people to an extent. They have homes, they eat, they engage in conversation, only not everyone can see one. It was an odd existence indeed.

It was rare to find someone who could see him, so when he did, he was pleasantly surprised. Like when he sat next to you and you smiled warmly at him. Jinyoung didn't notice at first but when you leaned over and said “chilly morning, huh?” it took him by surprise to say the least.

He glanced over at you, eyes wide as he registered the fact that you had even acknowledged him at all. ‘Can she see me?’ He looked around and then nodded. Your smile widened. “I'm hoping it doesn't get too cold or icy tonight,” you added.

Jinyoung forced a polite smile before turning back straight. He rarely engaged in conversation with anyone other than other reapers, so he was out of practice when it came to talking to humans. “I think it will be fine,” he said not making eye contact. You said nothing after that.

The ride was silent except for the occasional cough from one of the other commuters until you spoke up, catching Jinyoung off guard. “I’ve seen you a couple of times,” you noted and he turned to look at you, surprised by the smile on your face. “Oh,” Jinyoung replied, unsure of how to respond.

“You’re pretty cute,” you added and this time, Jinyoung nearly choked on the air he was breathing. So not only could she see him, she found him attractive, too? He would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. He was.”Th-thank you,” Jinyoung said, stumbling over his words.

You took this a sign of his shyness and giggled. “So cute,” you said and looked up at the marquee overhead that read the next stop. “Oh, shoot. Looks like this is my exit,” you said sadly. Jinyoung looked up at the marquee, reading the words and burning them into his brain so he wouldn’t forget.

Jinyoung watched as you stood and headed for the front of the bus to exit. You turned to look at him, offering a radiant smile and a wave before you left the bus. His eyes followed you as the bus pulled away from the stop, watching as you entered a tall office building. Jinyoung sat back as you disappeared inside and presumably from Jinyoung’s life all together.

Or so he thought.

It was a couple of weeks before he encountered you again. The same bus, the same seats. When he boarded the bus and saw you, he made a beeline for the seat next to you. He didn’t know what drove him to do so, but he felt himself being drawn towards you.

You looked up as he sat next to you and smiled that beautiful smile like the first time. He felt his own lips spread into a smile before he looked away. “Hello again,” you said softly, leaning into him. Jinyoung nodded, acknowledging your greeting. “Hello,” he replied. They two of you sat in silence before you spoke up. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks,” you said.

Jinyoung nodded. “I’ve been out of town,” he said, finding it fairly easy to lie. You smiled as the bus continued. Jinyoung knew he didn’t have more than just a few minutes before you got off at your stop. He had to act quickly. “Do you have a cellphone?” he asked quickly, turning to look at you. You let out another one of your cute giggles. “It’s 2018, I think most young professionals have a cellphone at this point,” you said with a wink that sent butterflies into the bottom of Jinyoung’s stomach.

‘What are you doing to me??’

He pulled out his own cellphone from his coat pocket and unlocked the screen, pulling up the app for contacts and pressing the little plus sign at the bottom. He handed his phone to you. “Would you mind?” he asked. You stared wide eyed at him before taking the device and entering your information. You handed his phone back to him and stood up again.

“Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow morning again?” you asked as you slung your bag over your shoulder. Jinyoung looked up at you, nodding and you smiled, flashing your dazzling teeth. “Perfect,” you said before following the other commuters off at the stop. Once on the pavement, you turned to find Jinyoung and waved as the bus pulled away.

Jinyoung got off the stop sometime later to arrive at his destination. He checked his watch. 11:38 am. He had received another card.

He approached the destination and watched the passing cars, waiting patiently for the time. He checked his watch again. It now read 11:40 am. One minute. He looked up in time to see a young man dressed in joggers and a jacket running up to the crosswalk. He stopped, pressing the cross button and began to stretch his legs.

The sign changed, allowing him to cross, he started to run but he didn’t look. They never look. A small box truck had been speeding, no doubt trying to reach his delivery on time. The driver was going much too fast and it was too late. The truck collided with the runner, fresh blood splattering across the pavement. Silence filled the air before a shriek was heard.

Then the commotion started.

Onlookers ran over to check the runner and the driver. Jinyoung heard it all. “Is he alright?” “He’s not breathing!” “That’s way too much blood.” “What about the driver?” “I’ve got the police on the phone!” Jinyoung turned away from the scene to find the runner standing on the sidewalk were he had been moments before watching the scene unfold. Jinyoung crossed the street, approaching him quietly.

The man looked at Jinyoung. “What’s going on?” he asked. Jinyoung looked at the accident, the man following his gaze. “Well,” Jinyoung said softly. He looked back at the man. “There’s no easy way to say this,” he said. The man looked back at Jinyoung. “You’re dead,” Jinyoung told the man.

The runner’s eyes widened and he looked back at the scene. “I’m dead?” he asked and Jinyoung put a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me, let’s have a cup of tea.”

After Jinyoung helped the runner crossover, he pulled out his phone to find it was still on the new contact he had made for you. (Y/N), he read. He pressed the little message icon and began typing.

Jinyoung [12:04]: good afternoon

He waited for your response, hoping it would be soon. It was.

You [12:05]: Good afternoon (:

He smiled at his phone and typed a response.

Jinyoung [12:05]: have you had lunch? You [12:06]: I am right now. What about you? Have you eaten? Jinyoung [12:06]: I have. How is your day going? You [12:07]: it’s going well. Work is easy. Slow even. Nothing eventful happening in the office. Although we just found out one of our coworker’s husbands was hit by a truck earlier. She’s devastated. He was out for his late morning run. It’s so awful, I couldn’t even imagine ):

Jinyoung felt his heart leap up into his throat upon reading your text. He knew only too well what she was talking about. He hesitated, not sure how to proceed.

Jinyoung [12:09]: that is awful. I’m sorry to hear that. You [12:09]: he was a great guy. Their poor children. Losing their father like that. What a horrible way to go. Jinyoung [12:10]: I don’t mean to change the subject so suddenly, but I was wondering if you’d like to go get coffee sometime.

He didn’t know why he typed it. He’d never asked anyone out. Never. He didn’t know what came over him. He just impulsively asked a human woman out. And not just any human. Quite possibly the most alluring woman he had ever set eyes on. What the hell was he thinking. He dreaded your response, sure you were about to turn him down so when his phone vibrated, he prepared himself for the big let down. Only, it didn’t happen.

You [12:11]: I would love to (:

Jinyoung sat inside the small cozy cafe. A place you had texted him the address to. He checked his watch. It was 12:50 pm. You had agreed to meet at 13:00. He sighed and looked up as the door opened, the bell ringing to announce the arrival of the very person he was waiting on.

You smiled as you entered the cafe, waving to the barista as if you knew her. Of course you knew her. You were polite and kind. Everyone liked you. Jinyoung watched as you scanned the cafe, your eyes landing on him and your smile spread. You made your way over and Jinyoung stood to greet you.

“You haven’t been waiting long, have you?” you asked. Jinyoung shook his head before moving to help you remove your coat. You took it from him, muttering a breathless thanks before draping it over the back of your seat. You sat down across from Jinyoung as he resumed his seat.

“No, I’ve only been here about five minutes,” he said as the server made her way over. “What can I get for you?” she asked pulling a pad of paper and pen out of her apron. You browsed the menu while Jinyoung looked up. “Coffee, black but lots of sugar, please,” he said and you looked up. “A caramel macchiato,” you said smiling up at the server. “Anything else?” she asked politely. “Do you have any lemon poppyseed muffins?” you asked and the server nodded. “Two of those please,” you said.

The server scribbled on her pad and walked away to put your order in. Jinyoung sat still waiting for something to happen. He’d never been on a date before so he was unsure of what to do. You turned to face him, another one of your brilliant smiles etched on your face. “So, what do you do for a living?” you asked and Jinyoung froze in his seat. Of all the questions he’d been asked he wasn’t prepared for this one at all. His brain scrambled to think of a lie.

“I work in a funeral home,” he blurted out. Your eyes widened and he sat up straighter. “Like a funeral director?” you asked softly and Jinyoung nodded. “Yes, precisely,” he said, relaxing now that he had a fake job. You looked down at the table, eyes full of sadness. “It’s a sad job, yes?” you asked.

Jinyoung blinked a couple of times. “At first, but I’ve come to see it as a comfort. I help the recently deceased pass on in the easiest way possible. It’s therapeutic for me,” he said as the server returned with the coffees and muffins.

“What about you? I saw you walk into that tall building outside your bus stop. What is that?” he asked. You perked up. “It’s a medical complex. I work in the laboratories. I specialize in blood test.” Jinyoung took a sip of his coffee. “That’s… impressive actually,” he said and you smiled, your cheeks flushed.

The two of you continued to talk over coffee and muffins, getting to know one another. You asked the right amount of questions and when it came to Jinyoung’s past, you didn’t try to pry too much. He was thankful of that. When Jinyoung finally checked the time, over two hours had passed. He looked up at you, that dazzling smile still prevalent. “It’s been over 2 hours. Do you want to do something else?” he asked softly. Your eyes lit up and you nodded reaching behind you for your coat.

Jinyoung stood and helped you put your coat on before handing your purse to you. He paid the bill and the two of you left the cafe, stepping out into the crisp February air. It was almost March and spring was well on its way. Jinyoung stood on the outside of the sidewalk as you walked, talking about any and everything. Jinyoung listened to you as you told stories, enthralled by the way your lips quirked right before you laughed, and the little dimples that appeared in your cheeks when you smiled widely.

He was entranced by your beauty and he was done fighting it at this point. He was so enraptured by you he almost didn’t notice the envelope that appeared in his pocket. He reached into his pocket and felt it. His smile dropped instantly and his feet stopped, bringing him to a halt. You stopped a few paces ahead and looked back at him.

He pulled his phone out, pretending to check a text. “I have to go,” he said looking up at you, pocketing his phone. Your smile faded and you turned to face him. “Is it work?” you asked and he nodded. You crossed the distance between you and smiled again.

“Thank you for taking me out,” you said taking his hand in yours. “I had a great time with you today.” Jinyoung couldn’t help but smile back. “I enjoyed this too,” he agreed. “Let’s do it again,” he added. You nodded before wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him. Jinyoung froze.

He’d never been hugged before. Instead of questioning it, he too wrapped his arms around you and hugged you back. You were so… warm. And soft. He’d never felt such peace before. When you parted, you smiled up at him. “Text me when you get to work so I know you made it safely!” you said stepping back. Jinyoung nodded. “Of course. Be safe heading home,” he said and you nodded. “I will!”

Jinyoung watched as you walked away, disappearing behind the corner. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little black envelope. Inside was another card. This one read:

He put the card back in his pocket and set off. His mind was full of you. Your face, your smile, your sweet voice, your cute laugh, everything about you. Jinyoung liked all of it. He liked the way he felt around you. He arrived to the scene in no time. It was a tall apartment building. He sighed and made his way in, taking the elevator up to the 14th floor.

Once there, he let himself into the apartment where he saw a young woman standing by the open sliding glass door. She turned to look at him, a sadness in her eyes. She must have known. She opened her mouth to speak, confirming Jinyoung’s suspicions. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” she asked. Jinyoung nodded silently. She turned to look out the doors. “And you? Are you an angel? Sent to guide me to heaven?” she asked in a broken voice.

“No,” Jinyoung said. The woman, Mi Rae, turned to look at him, confusion painted on her face. “That’s not my department,” Jinyoung said. “I’m a reaper. My job is to guide you to the door to the afterlife. Whatever happens after that isn’t my responsibility.”

Mi Rae sniffled and turned back to look out the door. “What happens now, then?” she asked. Jinyoung crossed the messy apartment, avoiding broken glass and torn pillows. He placed a gentle hand on Mi Rae’s shoulder. “Come,” he said turning her gently. “Let’s have a cup of tea.”

Jinyoung knew it would be hard to continue to see you but he wanted to nonetheless. The two of you started seeing more and more of each other, going on dates around the city. He took you to dinner, to museums and art galleries, enjoying the time he spent with you before his duties arose.

The relationship began to blossom into something he’d never experienced or thought possible. One night, you invited him over to your place, set on making him dinner. Jinyoung agreed on the condition he get to help you cook. You agreed and he arrived the following Saturday night at five o’clock sharp.

He knocked on the door softly and a moment later, you answered it. Allowing him into your home for the first time, Jinyoung took in the sight and smell of your home. It was a cozy little studio with a clear separation between where the living area and the bedroom were. When he first walked in, he was greeted by two closets to his left. One the coat closet, the other he assumed was the laundry.

To the right was a spacious bathroom. Further past the bathroom was an opening that led into the bedroom area, a short wall housed the closet adjacent to a wall that separated the bedroom area to the living area. Along the left wall was the kitchen with copious amounts of cabinet space. The room then opened up to the living area with huge floor to ceiling windows that would let in lots of light during the day.

The curtains were open, allowing Jinyoung a spectacular view of the city. He turned to you, handing over a bottle of wine he brought. You thanked him and set the wine on the counter. “So, what are we making?” he asked as he followed you to the kitchen. You had the ingredients laid out on the counter. “Just a simple ramen dish,” you said as you walked over to the sink and washed your hands. Jinyoung followed suit, washing his hands as well.

Then you got to work. Jinyoung watched as you cut up the vegetables easily. Your hair tucked behind your ear allowing him to see your face as you worked. He smiled at the cute apron you wore. “What can I do to help?” he asked and you looked up at him with bright eyes. “See that cabinet?” you asked nodding at one behind him. He turned and pointed at it. “This one?” he asked.

“Open it,” you said and he did so. Inside were about a dozen glasses for all types of occasions. “Get two wine glasses out and pour us a couple of glasses, would you?” you asked with a smile. Jinyoung chuckled and pulled down two glasses, setting them delicately on the counter before retrieving the bottle of wine. He looked around. “Corkscrew?” he asked. You nodded at one of the counters. “Second drawer down,” you said. Jinyoung pulled the drawer open and found the corkscrew.

He twisted it into the cork and pulled it out with a loud pop. He poured the dark liquor into the glasses before finding a stopper and putting it into the bottle. He set the corkscrew on the counter and picked up both glasses, crossing the kitchen to you and handing you a glass. You took it from him, offering a thanks before taking a sip. You set the glass down and went back to work.

Once all the veggies were cut up, you turned to the stove, heating up some oil in the pan. You unwrapped a cut of steak and sprinkled it with salt on both sides while another skillet heated up. In the skillet with the pan, you added all the veggies you cut up, sprinkling some salt and pepper over them and giving them a couple of turns. In the other skillet, you added the steak.

Jinyoung watched you work. You added a pot to the stove, turning on the burner to boil some water. After a few minutes, you flipped over the steak and stirred the veggies. As the water came to a boil, you added in the noodles. A few minutes later, you removed the steak and set it aside to let it rest.

In the same skillet, you added some liquids. Jinyoung didn’t ask but he was sure it was some kind of stock for the broth. He watched you, taking a few sips of wine. “Where did you learn to cook?” he asked. You looked up from the pan, your concentrated expression fading away.

“My grandmother taught me before she passed away. Then I learned from my father. He owns a restaurant a few blocks over,” you said as you continued to stir the veggies and the broth. Once the veggies were done, you removed them from the burner and turned your attention on the noodles. They were ready so you turned the burner off and set the pot aside.

It wasn’t long before everything was ready. You put the steak on a cutting board and sliced it into thin pieces. Jinyoung watched as you prepared two bowls of ramen, adding the noodles, then the broth. You put pieces of steak in the bowls, added the veggies, some sesame oil and seeds and topped it off with fried eggs. You set the bowls on the table and turned to grab the utensils. Jinyoung beat you to it.

“You sit,” he said as he carried them over to the table. The two of you sat down and dug in. Jinyoung hadn’t had something so delicious in a long time. He looked up to find you watching him. “How is it?” you asked. Jinyoung smiled. “It’s delicious,” he said. Satisfied with his answer, you dug into your own.

The two of you made small talk as you ate, commenting on work and the weather. Once you both had your fill of food, you stood to get the dishes but Jinyoung told you to sit. “You cooked, I’ll clean this up,” he said as he took your bowl. “Pour us some more wine,” he added as he approached the sink and started rinsing the dishes and cookware. He set everything in the dishwasher and shut the door.

He turned to find you had retreated to the sofa. He crossed the room to join you. Jinyoung took a seat next to you, grabbing his glass of wine. The two of you sat in silence before he spoke. “I should probably head out soon,” he said softly. You set your glass down and turned to him, taking his own glass and setting it down next to yours. “What are you-?” Jinyoung began but stopped when you moved across the couch to straddle his lap. He fell silent, looking up at you as you watched his face.

He didn’t dare move for fear of doing the wrong thing. “You don’t have to leave,” you said softly. Yes I do. You leaned in closer, your lips dangerously close to his. “You could stay the night here.” Your voice was almost inaudible. No I can’t. Jinyoung felt tension rise in his body as his mind and heart raced.

He cleared his throat and you sat up straight, looking at him. “I uh…” he said nervously. Your face turned a dark shade of red and you immediately got off him. “Oh my gosh,” you said. “I am so sorry,” you added. Jinyoung looked at you.

“I don’t know what came over me,” you whispered. Jinyoung reached out and gentle rubbed your back. “It’s okay. I’m just not ready for that level of… intimacy,” he said softly. You nodded, not looking at him. Jinyoung scooted closer and turned your face to look at him. “Look at me,” he said gently.

“I’m not mad. Don’t misunderstand me. I really like you. I’m just… out of practice,” he said slowly. You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips. “Me too,” you admitted. Jinyoung smiled and leaned forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “One step at a time,” he said and you nodded. Jinyoung sat back, leaning against the couch and pulled you will him, you nestled against his side.

“I do have to go soon,” he repeated softly. You sat up and leaned in, kissing his cheek in return. “I’ll walk you out,” you said softly. The two of you stood and Jinyoung led the way to your front door. He stopped to put his shoes and coat back on. He opened the door and stepped out into the hall, turning to face you. “Goodnight,” he said pulling you into a hug, resting his head on top of yours.

It was a warm goodbye. He always felt at peace in your arms. He hoped you felt the same way about him. When you parted, you leaned in to kiss his cheek again but he decided to be brave and caught your lips with his. The kiss startled you and you pulled back quickly, eyes wide. Jinyoung smiled, taking your cheeks in his hands and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours again.

You softened, relaxing into the kiss. Your lips against his felt like paradise. He felt like he was soaring. He’d never experienced such exhilaration before. When you parted, he smiled down at you. “I’ll let you know when I get home,” he promised and backed away before waving and heading for the elevator.

He took the lift down to the lobby, ecstasy coursing through his veins. His first kiss with you was more than he had hoped for and he was excited to kiss you again.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Spring had come and gone, making way for summer. In the summer, Jinyoung took you to the park during the day, sometimes the beach. The two of you would walk along, hand in hand, just taking in the scenery. Summer passed by much too quickly but he didn’t care, he preferred the cool autumn air over the hot summer sun.

Jinyoung had grown quite fond of you. He spent most of his free time with you, usually at your apartment. The two of you under a mountain of blankets, curled up in each other’s arms. Jinyoung preferred days like these. He had started to spend the night at your place. You respected his boundaries, too. You never attempted to force anything from him and for that he was grateful.

Tonight was just like many nights before, you cooked dinner with his assistance, the two of you ate, then cleaned up together and took to the couch to watch a movie before bed. It was a Friday night and you didn’t have work in the morning, for which Jinyoung was glad.

He didn’t remember what movie was playing, he was barely paying attention to it. His attention was focused on you and the way your hand moved, thumbs tracing light patterns into the exposed skin of his hip. It was innocent enough, except for the fact that it was driving him crazy. He grabbed your hand and you looked away from the television. “Was I bothering you?” you asked softly.

Jinyoung shook his head. “No, it’s just…” he said trailing off. You waited, watching his eyes. He sat up and took your face in his hands, pulling you into a deep kiss. Not like the ones he stole before. This was raw and full of a passion he’d never felt. You melted into the kiss, as always.

Jinyoung pulled away only to take a few deep breaths before he pulled you on top of his lap and kissed you again with renewed vigor. His hands slid down to your shoulders before continuing down to your waist. You pulled back and looked at him, eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing?” you asked softly.

Jinyoung looked up at you, searching your eyes as if they held the answers to every question he wanted to ask. Instead, he kissed you again, this time his lips parted yours and his tongue slipped into your mouth. His hand slid around back, pressing your body against his. A soft gasp escaped you when you resurfaced for air. Jinyoung kissed along your jawline, stopping to gently nibble at your neck.

His lips trailed down to your exposed collar before stopping. He reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers toying with the material. He eyed you cautiously before lifting the material up over your head and off, discarding it somewhere in the dark room, lit only by the long forgotten television.

Jinyoung’s eyes traveled down your body, newly exposed skin now revealed to him. Your cheeks flushed a soft pink he could see even in the dim light. He reached up, cupping your cheek and caressing your face with the pad of his thumb. “God you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

His lips were back on yours in a matter of seconds, tongues once again dancing to a tune only they knew. Jinyoung’s hands smoothed over the expanse of your back, sliding down to knead the soft flesh of your butt through your leggings. He pulled your hips against his, a soft moan lifting from the back of his throat as your heat rubbed against the growing bulge in his pants.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your face in his neck. Jinyoung slipped one of his hands into your pants, squeezing your ass over your panties. You let out a whimper when he brought the other hand back and landed a sharp blow to your rear end. He rubbed his hand over the spot, whispering an apology in your ear.

“I want you,” you said in a breathy moan, your lips brushing against his cheek as you lifted your head. Jinyoung scooted to the edge of the couch and stood up, supporting you as he carried you from the living area to the bedroom, gently depositing you on the bed before climbing on himself.

He hovered over you, eyes burning with intensity before he dipped down to kiss your collar. He settled himself between your legs, kissing along your chest before moving further down. His lips danced across your skin, leaving a scorching trail in their wake.

Your hands tangled in his hair as his head moved lower and lower until he reached the waistband of your leggings. He pressed long kisses against your abdomen before sinking his teeth in, leaving little love bites littered across your skin. He sat up straight and pulled his sweater up over his head, leaving him in a white tee shirt. He played with the hem of your leggings, eyeing you.

You answered his silent question in the form of a nod. Jinyoung tucked his fingers into your waistband and pulled slowly. Deliberately. He pulled your leggings down past your hips, slowly down your thighs and then further past your knees until he pulled them off complete and threw them to the side.

He’d never done anything like this before but he had an idea in mind. He kissed his way up your body stopping at your chest. He planted short kisses all over your chest, also leaving little bites all over. When he was satisfied he was thorough in marking you, he sat up, pulling his tee shirt up over his head. Your eyes trailed down from his face to his body.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and continued down his chest to his abdomen and stopping at the bulge in his jeans. You sat up, reaching out to take Jinyoung’s hands. You guided him to where you had been sitting just moments prior and once he was seated, you pushed him back into your pillows before reaching down and slowly unzipping his pants.

Jinyoung watched you through wide eyes as you cautiously pulled his pants down his thighs as he had done with you. Moving deliberately so he felt every torturous second you had felt as he undressed you. Once his pants had been dealt with you leaned in, pressing a short but sweet kiss to his lips before making a path down his neck to his chest.

You stopped, glancing up at him to find he was watching your every move. You slid your hand up his thigh, grazing it up his hip and across his stomach, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. You smiled mischievously before dipping your hand into his underwear, taking hold of him. Jinyoung gasped at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his hard member.

You took your time, exploring, taking in his reactions, and gauging every expression. You moved slowly at first, pumping up and down his length inside his boxers before you pulled him free of the confines of his underwear. You leaned over, giving the tip a small lick. A hiss escaped Jinyoung’s lungs when your tongue made contact with the head of his cock.

You smiled before parting your lips and taking the head in your mouth. Jinyoung gripped the sheets below him with one hand, the other stroked your head, brushing your hair out of the way. He watched the way he disappeared in your mouth and it was almost enough to make him come right there. His eyes fluttered shut as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper and deeper in your mouth.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” he breathed, his head falling back against the pillows. You pulled off him, pumping his shaft with your hand, using your own saliva as lubricant. “Practice makes perfect,” you said coyly as you moved faster. Jinyoung bucked his hips up into your hand and you slowed your pace, much to his protest. “I can’t have you coming undone like this,” you said amused as you pulled his boxers the rest of the way off before reaching around to undo your bra.

Jinyoung grabbed your hands. “Don’t. Let me,” he said and reached around, hands finding the clasps easily and undoing your bra, before pulling it off and again flinging it somewhere in the room. Jinyoung pushed you onto your back tugging your panties down and nestling himself between your legs. “You don’t have to,” you started to say but dropped your head with a moan when he licked a wide strip up your sex.

You weren’t able to get a word in once he started. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he lapped at your core, tongue prodding until it found what he was looking for; your clit. Once he had it in his sights, he wasn’t sure to lose it. He teased you, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. Your chest heaved with labored breaths as Jinyoung treated you like his last meal. He pushed your thighs further apart, giving him better access.

You covered your face with your arm, loud moans bouncing off the walls. Jinyoung pulled back, tracing your entrance with a single finger before he slowly pushed it inside you. A short breathy moan left your lips along with two syllables, dripped in honey; his name.

To hear you moan his name sent blood rushing straight to his cock, a throbbing set in. The aching need to bury himself in you like this was the last night on earth. He was patient though, instead opting to pleasure you with his hand, pumping now two fingers in and out of you. You threw your head to the side, gasping as he picked up the pace.

You whimpered, muttering something he couldn’t quite understand. “What was that?” he asked, slowing his hand. You uncovered your face and said into the dark room the words he wanted to hear most in the moment. “I need you, Jinyoung, please. I need you inside me.” Your voice cracked at the end and Jinyoung wasted no time. He pulled away, getting to his knees and kissed a trail up your chest as he hovered over you.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked and you pointed at the top drawer of your night stand. Jinyoung opened it, finding the foil packets easily. He tore one open quickly, rolling it on his length before he settled between your thighs again. He pulled your body closer to his, positioning the tip of his cock against your slit, aligning himself. He looked up at your flushed face, your pupils dilated in the moonlight streaming through your windows. He pushed slowly, entering you with remarkable ease.

You let out a deep moan, one that reverberated through your body and vibrated in his. He pushed deeper still, groaning at the feeling of your walls hugging him so tightly. He paused only for a moment before pushing further until he was buried deep inside you. He took his time, allowing your body to adjust to his intrusion. He moved only when you told him to.

He pulled out slowly, looking down where his length appeared before pushing back into you, watching himself disappear inside you. The sight was incredible and the feeling was indescribable. He’d never experienced such pleasure before. He sped up, gripping your hips tightly as he thrust into you, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Your hands reached for his, looking for a way to ground yourself against his pace as it quickened.

Your moans turned into whines as he pounded into you, chants of his name rolling of your tongue with ease. He slowed a bit, reaching around your back to lift you into a sitting position. He thrusted up into you, guiding your hips, moving you up and down on his length to meet his thrusts. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, helpless whines leaving your swollen lips.

“Are you okay?” Jinyoung asked, slowing to hear your voice. “Yes,” you said in a breathless voice. “Don’t stop, please,” you begged. Jinyoung resumed, slamming you down on him as he thrust up into you, the sound of skin slapping filled the apartment as he took control, allowing pleasure to consume his mind and cloud his thoughts with the sweet sounds you made under his spell.

His lips found yours and he kissed you deeply, muffling the sounds of your cries of bliss. He couldn’t last much longer, his thighs would surely give out before the finish line. He slowed to a deep roll of his hips instead of the thrusting, proving to be a smart move because the moment he rolled, you threw your head back and let out a deep moan.

Your walls hugged tighter around his throbbing member and before his brain caught up, Jinyoung lifted you off him, pulling out of you and pushed you over on your hands and knees, lining himself up behind you. He pushed into you, taking your waist in his hands and pulled you back into his hips. He was in awe of how deep he hit in this position. Your head fell to the sheets and muffled your moans as he slammed into you, resuming his relentless speed.

He felt the build up inside him like a rubber band being stretch. The tension was nearly unbearable until you cried out, your walls convulsing as your climax hit you in short intense waves, Jinyoung followed soon after, releasing into the condom with a deep moan as he rode out both your highs.

He stilled inside you, allowing himself time to regain his composure and breath. After a few moments, he pulled out of you and removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the waste bin nearby. He returned to you, still on your hands and knees. He leaned over your back, pressing two long kisses to your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You nodded weakly. “My legs don’t want to work,” you whispered. Jinyoung chuckled and helped you move, rolling you onto your back. “Stay right there,” he said getting up, stooping to grab his boxers. He went to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth and wetting it with warm water, he returned to you, grabbing his shirt from the floor as he passed it.

Jinyoung used the damp cloth to wipe your arousal and cum off your skin, cleaning you up before tossing the cloth in the hamper. He pulled you up into a sitting position and put his shirt on your, pulling it down over your chest. He pulled back the covers, helping you into the bed before getting in beside you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him and smiling into your hair as you fell asleep quickly. “I love you,” he whispered in your ear but was met with your soft snores.

You had fallen asleep. Jinyoung smiled to himself and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to take him easily.

The next morning when he awoke, Jinyoung found the bed empty. He sat up quickly, covers falling off him as he searched the room. He heard noise coming from the other side of the wall separating him from the kitchen. Getting up quickly and stopping to grab his pants, he put them on before he peered out into the kitchen where he saw you standing at the stove, still wearing his shirt and having donned a pair of your shorts.

The sight of you in his clothes sent his heart into a frenzy as butterflies erupted in his stomach. He knew for sure he was in love with you, despite never having felt the emotion before. Jinyoung stepped out into the kitchen where you turned and greeted him with your radiant smile. He returned the smile as he walked behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. “Good morning,” he said in a low voice, deep from sleep.

“Morning,” you giggled as he nuzzled your neck with his nose. “How do you want your eggs this morning?” you asked turning to look at him over your shoulder. He pressed a short kiss to your lips before grinning broadly. “Surprise me,” he said, tightening his hold on your waist. He went in for another kiss, this time his hand wandered, sliding down your stomach and into the waistband of your shorts. A soft sigh escaped your lips before you said to him, “Jinyoung, the bacon will burn if you continue.” Jinyoung chuckled and moved his hand back up and tickled your side.

“Fine,” he said, kissing your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder and watching as you flipped the bacon over and made room for the eggs. You cracked them open one by one, using the bacon grease to fry them. Jinyoung listened to your steady breaths as you continued to cook, occasionally looking at him with a smile. “Did you sleep well?” you asked after a few moments silence.

Jinyoung nodded. “I did. What about you?” he asked and you smiled, a small chuckle sounded at the back of your throat. “I slept amazingly well,” you said and Jinyoung couldn’t help but smirk. “Why? Did something wear you out last night?” he murmured. You laughed and nodded. “It definitely did,” you agreed. You flipped the eggs to make sure they were done and turned your head to look at Jinyoung. “Could you grab those two plates on the table, please?” you asked and Jinyoung reluctantly let got of you before turning and grabbing the plates.

He returned to you, holding one out as you scooped up two eggs and put them on the plate, adding a few slices of bacon to the plate. You repeated the same for the second plate before setting the skillet aside to cool. “Do you want any juice or anything?” you asked over your shoulder as Jinyoung set the plates on the table. “Just water,” he said looking over as you opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. You opened the cabinet next to the fridge and pulled out three glasses.

Once filled, you brought over the drinks and sat down, Jinyoung across from you. The two of you ate in silence, enjoying the time together. Jinyoung looked up, watching you before he spoke. “About last night,” he started and your head snapped up to catch his gaze. “...what about it?” you asked softly. Jinyoung noticed your tone and shook his head. “I just wanted to say that last night was the best night of my life,” he said, giving you a smile.

Your cheeks flushed and you looked down at your plate. “Mine too,” you admitted in a small voice. Upon hearing that, Jinyoung felt his heart swell. He knew he needed to say what was on his mind before he lost the opportunity to. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Why? Why was he hesitating? You didn’t look up as you continued to eat and the moment passed.

Jinyoung closed his mouth and continued to eat, finishing his food just before you. He got up, grabbing your empty plate. “I’ll clean up,” he said and took the dishes to the sink to rinse them off and put them in the dishwasher. He felt your arms slide around his waist as you rested your cheek against his bare back. He felt your shoulders move as a sigh escaped you.

“You okay?” he asked and he felt you nod. “I’m just really happy,” you said softly. Jinyoung turned the water off and dried his hands before turning around to face you. He looked down at you, eyes scanning your face. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours sweetly.

He pulled back momentarily before kissing you again, taking your face gently between his hands and deepening the kiss. Your hands moved, sliding up to rest against his chest. Jinyoung pulled back, his eyes still closed but a smile on his face. That’s when he heard it. Your voice, small and soft.

“I love you.”

Jinyoung’s eyes snapped open as he looked down to find you looking up at him. He studied your face, lips parted as he found it harder to breathe when you looked at him like that. Like he was your entire world. Like he was the only thing in the world that you wanted. Like he was the most important thing.

His mind raced nearly as fast as his heart as he scrambled to put the words together. He took too long. He noticed how your expression shifted and you looked away nervously. “Sorry,” you muttered as you pulled away, taking his heart with you. His hand grabbed your wrist and you turned to look up at him. He blinked several times, trying to will his body to do the right thing. To pull you flush against him in an iron tight embrace and tell you he loved you. The longer he fought his body, the more you looked away, avoiding his gaze before finally he did it. He pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck as he wrapped his arms around you. “What’re you--” you began.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. You froze before accepting his embrace, and hugging him back. The two of you stood there, in the kitchen, for who knows how long before Jinyoung pulled back, standing straight. When you locked eyes, a huge grin spread across your face and Jinyoung couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his.

The two of you decided to take a shower together, to “conserve water,” as you put it. Conserve water you did, among other things. After finishing the shower, you dressed and as Jinyoung was checking his pockets for a card, he found one. With his back to you, he pulled it out and looked at it.

A sadness fell over him as he tucked the card away. He cleared his expression as you wrapped your arms around his waist, giggling. He turned in your arms and kissed you deeply. “I have to go,” he said softly and you pouted. Jinyoung laughed before booping your nose with his finger.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’ll be back later tonight,” he said before kissing you again. “Okay,” you said in between kisses. “Come back to me,” you added. Jinyoung winked before pulling on his coat and putting on his shoes. He stopped at the door, turning to look at you as you began to tidy up the apartment. He smiled as he let his mind wander. He could see himself with you for a while.

He would gladly give up being a reaper if it meant he could have a life with you. Another wave of sadness overtook him. He wanted so much to be with you. To marry you. To start a family. He wanted all of that with you but he knew he couldn’t. Just another thing he wasn’t allowed to do as a reaper. Jinyoung opened the door and stepped out into the hallway as he started to make his way across town to tend to Lee Hyunwoo.

The month of December was unusually cold this year. The temperatures dropped quickly and snow came fast. The city was covered in a blanket of snow the first week in. Jinyoung dropped by your apartment the second week in to visit. You opened the door and let him in. He noticed the decor as you let the festive spirit take over. He entered your living area to find a beautiful and tall, spruce tree standing proud but bare in the corner of the room.

He turned to you, raising an eyebrow and you smiled sheepishly at him. “I thought we could decorate it together,” you said with a shrug. Jinyoung crossed over to you, pulling you into a kiss. He could never get enough of your kisses. “Let’s do that then,” he said and the two of you began, opening the tubs of decorations and pulling out lights.

You worked together, wrapping the strings of lights around the tree before plugging them in, lighting the tree in a soft warm white light. You opened another tub, unwrapping the ornaments and putting the hooks on them before handing them to Jinyoung for him to hang. Once all the ornaments were hanging, you got to your feet and looked up at the tree. “Now the last thing,” you said opening another smaller tub and unwrapping a beautiful crystal star with a large cone-like base. Jinyoung took it from you and looked over it as you opened the hall closet and pulled out a small stepladder.

You opened it and climbed up, steadying yourself using Jinyoung’s shoulder. He handed you the star which you then placed precariously on top of the tree before he helped you get back down. “There,” you said smiling up at him. “All done.” Jinyoung kissed your forehead before he moved to fold the stepladder and put it away. The two of you put the empty tubs in the storage closet and sat on the couch to admire your handiwork. “I’ve never really celebrated Christmas before,” Jinyoung admitted and you looked up at him. “Really?” you asked. “Why?”

Jinyoung shrugged. “I’m not a believer, so that would be the main reason I suppose.” You nodded knowingly. That would make sense,” you replied looking from Jinyoung’s face up to the tree. “What about you?” he asked resting his arm across the back of the couch behind you. You breathed in and let out a sigh. “I’ve always celebrated it for as long as I can remember.” You hesitated, Jinyoung looking down at you as he waited for you to continue. “Don’t know why. I’m not particularly religious either,” you added with a smile.

The rest of the day passed in relaxation. Jinyoung surprisingly didn’t receive a card that day and he was thankful for the extra time he got to spend with you. You made a nice dinner and the pair of you talked, well, you mostly told stories while Jinyoung listened. The night ended with a mug of hot cocoa before the two of you retired for the night, slipping easily into slumber.

Jinyoung had never celebrated Christmas, but with you, he wanted to. So he went out with the intention of buying you a gift. Something small that still held a lot of meaning to you. Maybe a necklace or a bracelet. Something you would be proud to show off so he went to the mall, a place he typically avoided. He made his way into the first jewelry shop he set eyes on and began browsing.

It didn’t take long before a sales associate approached him and asked if he needed help. Jinyoung nodded. “I’m looking for a necklace, or maybe a bracelet for my girlfriend. Something simple but still beautiful. Something classy,” he said peering into one of the many glass cases in the shop. The sales associate asked what kind of metal he was looking for. “Something that will last,” Jinyoung replied as he stood back straight and moved to another glass case housing pendants. “What gemstone?” the sales associate asked and Jinyoung thought for a moment before settling. “Diamond.”

He continued browsing while the stop keeper started looking himself before he grabbed a few selections and brought them over on a small black velvet tray. Jinyoung looked over the selection, scrutinizing each individual pendant until one caught his eye. He reached out before looking up at the sale associate. “May I?” he asked and the sales associate nodded. Jinyoung picked up the pendant and began inspecting it closer.

“That’s one of our best sellers,” the sales associate said proudly and Jinyoung set it back down. “What about something on the opposite side of the spectrum? Something not a lot of people buy?” he asked and initially the sales associate was confused before he understood what Jinyoung was hinting at. “Smart man. Want her necklace to stand out,” he said and Jinyoung couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll be right back,” the sale associate said with a wink and disappeared behind a door in the corner of the one room shop.

Not even five minutes passed when he returned carrying a small box. He brought it over to Jinyoung and opened it. “This is a beautiful piece, truly. It’s a shame no one wants to buy it. It doesn’t go with our current line, so we keep it in the back. This is the only one we have,” he said as Jinyoung inspected the pendant. It was stunning. A vertical infinity loop with a heart in the bottom arm, a small diamond set in the center of the heart. Flanking the heart were two rows of tiny diamonds. It came on a sterling silver chain. It was perfect. Jinyoung didn’t even need to think about it. “It’ll take it,” he said.

He left the store with a small bag clenched tightly in his fist. He was pleased with his purchase, a small grin present on his face as he made his way toward the exit of the mall. He was just excited to get to your place on Christmas eve and give you your gift. He had never been so excited or hopeful in his life. Jinyoung, a reaper, was going to celebrate Christmas with you, a human he had fallen so hard for.

How did his life come to be so… domestic?

The day he had been waiting for came quickly and he was excited. He woke up early, making sure to double check that the gift was wrapped securely and that you had no idea what it was. He removed it from its original bag that had the name of the jewelry store on it so you would be suspicious. About halfway into his morning, you texted him, wishing him a good morning. Jinyoung replied quickly, surprising himself with how… happy, he felt. Was that the right emotion? Is that what this was? Happiness? It had to be.

Later that night after a nice dinner at the table Jinyoung had set for you complete with candles and some flowers he had purchased on his way over, the two of you moved to the living area. Jinyoung sat on the couch while you started up some festive movie, something he couldn’t remember the name of, he was more focused on you as you joined him on the sofa, snuggling up against his side and reaching for your glass of wine.

About halfway into the movie, Jinyoung set his glass down on the coffee table and you looked up, you empty glass still in your hand, held close to your chest. Jinyoung took the glass from you and set it on the table as you sat up, watching him. He took your face between his hands gently and pressed his lips to yours. He really couldn’t get enough of your kisses. He was in trouble.

You accepted the kiss gladly and even more so, accepted his advances. The night ended up in the bed, the sheets twisted around your naked bodies, your clothes forgotten on the floor. With your head resting on his chest and his hand running fingers through your hair softly, the two of you lay in silence, basking in the afterglow of you nightly escapade. “I love you so much,” you whispered in the darkness and Jinyoung smiled, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “I love you, too,” he responded, his whisper barely filling the room.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep and before you knew it, you were waking up to the smell of pancakes wafting through your studio. You got up, grabbing a silk kimono that hung on the wall. You tied the sash and headed toward the kitchen where Jinyoung stood in a pair of flannel pajama pants, shirtless as always. You smiled, biting your bottom lip before walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiled as you kissed his bare shoulder and peered over it at the pancakes he was making. “Morning,” you sighed, content with the night before.

“Morning, love,” he said softly as he flipped the pancakes. “Breakfast first and then gifts, okay?” he said and you nodded, squeezing his waist tighter. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” you say softly and Jinyoung chuckles. “I know you got me something so what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t reciprocate?” he asked as he pulled the skillet off the stove and turned, with you still clinging around his waist to slide the pancakes onto the two plates waiting on the counter.

After loading your pancakes with as much butter and syrup you wanted, you dug in, moaning when the taste of the confection hit your tongue. “Looks like I’ve got competition,” Jinyoung joked and you blushed deeply at his words and that you had moaned when you took a bite of your food. After eating, you helped clean up before moving to sit on the couch and looked at the presents under the tree. Jinyoung walked over and knelt down, grabbing the packages and moving them to the coffee table before sitting down next to you to sort them.

Once finished, you each had three gifts sitting in front of you. Jinyoung gestured at you to go first. You grabbed the largest parcel and held it up to your ear, shaking it lightly. Jinyoung laughed as you gave him a cheeky smile before you set the present in your lap and began tearing the paper off. It was a flat white box. You opened it carefully and stared in awe at what was inside. A brand new robe. You set the box on the coffee table and pulled the robe out, standing up as you did. It was beautiful.

A floor length white silk robe with light pink cherry blossoms on it. You looked at Jinyoung and smiled widely. “I love it,” you gush as you carefully fold it up and set it in the box. You looked at Jinyoung, giving him the go ahead to open one of his own gifts. He grabbed a smaller package and you smiled, knowing exactly what he was about to open. He ripped off the paper and opened the small box.

His expression was unreadable as he pulled out the watch you had spent hours picking out. It was a simple stainless steel watch with Roman numerals around the dial instead of numbers. The edge of the dial was set in black diamonds. The shop keeper had told you that the diamonds were called carbonado and were very real diamonds. They weren’t opaque but rather much smokier and darker than their cousin.

A smile spread across Jinyoung’s face as he looked up. “Thank you,” he said leaning over and giving your cheek a tender kiss. The two of you took turns opening your gifts. In addition to the robe, Jinyoung had bought you a new set of wine glasses, as well as a new pair of house slippers since yours were currently falling apart. Jinyoung had been gifted the watch, a set of pajamas as you knew the hems on his current ones were coming unraveled no matter how many times you mended them. You had also bought him a new pair of sunglasses after hearing him mention his lost ones.

The two of you sat on the couch thanking each other when Jinyoung got up quickly, staring at the tree. “Looks like we forgot one,” he said and walked over. You watched as he pulled a small gift bag out of the tree and you looked at him puzzled. How had you not noticed? He handed it to you. “It’s yours,” he said and you took it cautiously.

Jinyoung watched as you opened it, taking the tissue paper out carefully. You looked inside and saw a small velvet box. You looked up at Jinyoung before reaching into the bag and pulling the rectangular box out. You hesitated, looking up at Jinyoung who nodded, giving you an encouraging smile. You took a deep breath and opened the box, amazed at what you saw inside. A necklace. A beautiful infinity loop with a heart all made out of sterling silver, with diamonds set in the center and around the heart.

“It’s gorgeous,” you breathed running a finger over the smooth metalwork. Jinyoung’s hands appeared, taking the necklace and scooting closer to put it on you. The cool metal laid against your skin and you looked down at it where it sat proudly against your chest. You looked back up at Jinyoung wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. “Thank you.”

Christmas came and went, taking New Year’s with it. You were now coming up on a year since you and Jinyoung had met. Jinyoung couldn’t believe how long it had been and how fast time was flying. He was so thankful to have met you on the bus all that time ago. Thankful that he got to ride that bus that day. He was thankful for you speaking to him although no one else had.

On a particularly cold Saturday morning, Jinyoung received a call from you. “Let’s meet for coffee,” you said in a bright cheerful voice, one that never failed to make him smile. “Okay,” he agreed. “Where?” he asked as he got up from his desk and walked over to the closet to change. “That coffee shop at the bus stop you always got on at,” your sweet voice replied and Jinyoung chuckled. “Of course, darling. I’ll meet you there in an hour?” he asked and you agreed. “Okay, it’s a date!” you said and said goodbye before you hung up.

Jinyoung set his phone down and pulled out an outfit. Something black. Always something black. He lazily combed through his freshly washed hair and put on his favorite hat. The wide brimmed one you always made fun of. His reaper hat. He headed out into the front room of his apartment and smiled around, noticing little bits of you left behind. Your scarf, your socks, a shirt or pair of sunglasses.

He pulled on his shoes, lacing them up and double knotting them before standing and grabbing his coat, surprisingly not black but dark cobalt. He left his apartment and made his way down to the stop near his building, catching it just in time. He watched out the window as the bus crossed town. His thoughts wandering to where he would be right now had he never met you.

He would still be going about his normal reaper existence. He knew he had changed in a way. He felt truly happy with his existence for once. Before you, he had shouldered all the guilt and burden of his duties but with you around, you eased that negativity with your warm embrace, blanketing him in security and love. He’d never felt unsafe before but with you he knew what it felt like to be safe.

The bus pulled up to a stop a few blocks down from the one he needed. ‘Almost there,’ he told himself as the bus pulled away with new riders onboard. Finally, they reached his stop and he got up, getting off the bus alone. He pulled out his phone to check the time. He was about 10 minutes early. He decided to send you a text, letting you know he had arrived early. He entered the cafe and took a seat by the window so he could watch for you.

The sun was beginning to rise over the buildings as the day grew and Jinyoung sighed reaching into his pocket for his phone to check for a text when his fingers brushed against something smooth that wasn’t his phone. A card? Now? He mentally groaned and pulled it out. Sure enough, he held a name card in his hand. He turned it over to read the red ink and his heart nearly stopped. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘This can’t be.’ He lurched from his seat and ran out the door, pulling out his phone to call you.

You answered on the third ring with a cheerful, “hello!” Jinyoung wasted no time. “Where are you?” he asked quickly. “My bus got delayed. It’s a stupid story. I’ll tell you when I get there,” you said and Jinyoung panicked. “Where are you, (Y/N)?” he asked again. “Look up you dummy,” you said giggling and Jinyoung looked up across the street where he saw you standing at the crosswalk, your phone held up to your ear, a smile plastered on your face. “Do you see me?” you asked and Jinyoung smiled in relief. “Yeah. I do. Stay right there, I’ll come to you,” he said heading for the crosswalk opposite you.

You snorted through the phone. “Don’t be silly. The cafe is on that side!” you reasoned and Jinyoung smiled, thankful you couldn’t see the tears forming in his eyes. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” he said, trying to stay lighthearted. He looked down the street both ways waiting for the crosswalk to turn. The light changed, signaling the the cross traffic could go. Jinyoung watched you through the passing cars before he heard it. A loud squealing of tires. He turned his attention to the box truck swerving out of control as it hit a large patch of ice. The driver tried to regain control of the vehicle but it was too late.

Jinyoung reacted without thinking, darting into the street as he watched in what seemed like slow motion. You looked up, noticing the truck but it was too late. Jinyoung called out your name as everything went black. You waited for the impact but it never came. You opened your eyes slowly and saw that you weren’t standing where you had been a moment before. You were a little further down the road. ‘What the?’ you wondered. Screams erupted and you looked around at bystanders as they rushed past you. You turned to see a box truck. ‘Wait a second…’

You cautiously made your way over when you heard something that made you stop in your tracks. A heart wrenching cry. ‘That voice,’ you thought. ‘I know that voice.’ Walking around the side of the truck to the front your eyes were met with a gruesome scene. No more than 5 bodies lay on the pavement, bloodied and battered. You covered your mouth at the scene. ‘Oh no.’

Another sob caught your attention and you looked past the scene to see a familiar figure kneeling on the ground holding one of the lifeless bodies. Moving closer, the realization hit you. ‘Jinyoung?’ you looked down at the figure. It was your boyfriend, hugging a body close to him and sobbing. Your lifeless body. Suddenly you knew what had happened.

You were dead.

Jinyoung had never in his existence cried but he cried now. He held your body close, sobbing into your sweater almost uncontrollably. ‘Give her back to me. I promise I’ll let her go. Let her have a normal life, just bring her back.’ His body shook violently as he cried. He just wanted you back. He wanted this pain to stop. He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to exist in a world you didn’t live in.

He was rocking slowly, still holding you when he heard a soft voice behind him. “Jinyoung?” his breathing stopped and he looked up slowly turning to look behind him where you stood, staring eyes wide at him holding your body. Jinyoung turned back, setting your body gently down on the ground. He had a job to do.

Jinyoung stood slowly and walked away from the scene as paramedics and police arrived on the scene. Jinyoung walked over to your ghost and led you away from the scene. “You can see me?” you asked and Jinyoung nodded, not saying a word as tears streamed down his face. “Come with me,” he said in a hoarse voice. He took your hand and you were surprised to feel his grip on you.

The world spun and you were no longer standing on the street. Instead you were inside a small room with large windows that let in a lot of light. On the wall was a collection of tea cups and you turned to look at Jinyoung who was preparing a pot of tea. “What is this place?” you asked curiously walking over to a large bookshelf. “It’s a gate,” Jinyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“A gate?” you asked walking over to him. “A gate,” he repeated, not looking up at you as he prepared the tea. You watched him carefully. “Who are you?” you finally whispered and he gave a small smile. “I’m a reaper,” he said as he grabbed two cups off the wall. He returned to the table and poured the tea before setting the cups in front of the two seats. He took a seat and waited for you to do the same.

You reached for the cup and he grabbed your wrist suddenly. “Before you drink that, let me explain,” he said and you nodded, setting the cup back down. You folded your hands together in your lap and listened as he began talking. “You are dead, this much I’m sure you know. Now you also know that I am a reaper and it is my job to escort you through the door so that you can pass on peacefully,” he said, his voice straining as he struggled to keep his composure.

“By drinking this tea, you can erase your memories and pass on before you are reincarnated,” he continued and you reached across the table, placing a hand on his. He grabbed your hand and bowed his head as he tried to keep it together for you. “It’s okay to cry, Jinyoung,” you said softly. He looked up at you, tears already staining his cheeks.

“I don’t want you to go,” he replied softly, tears filling his eyes and blocking his vision. You smiled at him. “We all die at some point, right?” you asked and Jinyoung shook his head. “Not me. I can’t die,” he responded and you smiled. “Well, that’s something to look forward to,” you whispered and he looked up at you. “If I am reincarnated, maybe I can find you again.”

“What happens if I don’t drink the tea?” you asked, clearing your throat. “You will remember everything when you enter a new life,” Jinyoung replied looking down at the steaming cup. You were silent for a moment before you nodded and pulled your hands from his and stood up. “Then it’s settled. I won’t drink the tea.” Jinyoung leapt to his feet.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked and you nodded. “I’m positive,” you said with a smile. Jinyoung pulled you into a tight hug. “I love you,” he said, his voice muffled by your sweater. “I love you, too,” you chirp hugging him back tightly. “I don’t want you to leave me,” you hear him say. “Please don’t leave me.” You pulled back, taking Jinyoung’s hands in your own. “I love you so much, Jinyoung, but I need you to be strong for me. I need you to have my back. I can’t do this on my own,” you said, tears forming in your own eyes. Jinyoung took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay,” he said, nodding.

He took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he walked you to the door. “This is it,” he said looking at the wooden door before his eyes landed on you again. “I guess, this is where we say goodbye,” he added quietly. You smiled, leaning in and kissing him. “Goodbye for now,” you corrected him. A small smile graced his lips as you walked forward toward the door. “Hey, (Y/N),” Jinyoung called out and you turned back to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Yes?” you replied.

“Come back to me soon, okay?” Jinyoung asked and you smiled brightly. “Of course I will,” you said before turning the knob and giving him one last smile. “I love you, Jinyoung,” you called out before stepping through the door and into the bright light on the other side, the door clicking shut behind you and leaving Jinyoung alone in the tea room. He reached into his pocket and felt the card. He pulled it out and crumpled it in his hand before throwing it on the ground as he headed for the door.

‘I love you, too, (Y/N). I’ll be waiting.’

P.S: I’M SORRY ALKHDFASLJDLASJDA. Just know that it hurt me to write this.

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heartfeltheart · 5 years ago

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Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 22/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series. Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

"One week. One week. Truth is punishing me. He is testing me." Alphonse kept muttering under his breath, as he watched Tuesday's class walked through the door of his brother's Alchemy class. Well, his class too next year. The main problem Alphonse had been that he wasn't prepared to fully take over his brother and his teaching style. He must continue on with Edward style of teaching and not his own, this is his year not his own. The reason for taking over for the week, Edward is still under guard of Madam Pomfrey's care for the semi-mild concussion to a severer one due to an unfortunate encounter with the school's poltergeist. Peeves had caused his brother to fall down some flights of stairs. There is no telling how long Edward will be decommissioned for the injury and recovery.

Edward will be okay, just needs to rest and the potions and magical remedies are helping the healing process to go faster. Here's hoping that he has a fast recovery.

With sigh, Alphonse pushed himself away from the desk he was leaning on when he heard the familiar ring of the bell. The classroom is filled to the brim with students, from first to seventh years. From the looks of it, he could already sense who has to leave and who could possibly stay. Picking up a clipboard from the desk and looked down to see that today's class focused on teaching the students the non-magical aspect in alchemy. He let out a mental sigh of relief at seeing Edward's side notes, showing that four students from the original class are in today's class, peer teaching by the looks of it.

Fred Weasley: He along with his brother, George Weasley, show a great aptitude in Alchemy. Remember who is who, they may be the same, but they are not. This Weasley still needs to have a deeper understanding the laws but still is miles ahead of his peers. It is noted that when he and his brother are together, their minds seemed to be linked together and are able to reach no bounds in their research. Warning: Chronic Pranksters.

Timothy Jerkins: Needs a huge dose of reality that not everyone is a stepping stone to supposed success. Appears to selfish and narcissistic, give him a hawk's eye and he'll be a replica to Mustang. The only difference… he makes Mustang look like a saint in terms of personality. Shows aptitude in the laws and understanding of the laws but does not understand how it fits in with the human side of it all. Warning: Unlike Mustang, he actually sees people as true chess pieces.

Kasey State: Where do I start? She grew up in an orphanage, said place made no stance that they even cared for her in her physical, mental, emotional and… there's no end on how much they fucked her up. She shows great critical thinking skills but shows little to no skills in non-magical subjects but is more than willing to over pile her work to get ahead. Talk to the house-elves to have food 'randomly' appear by her whenever she looks hungry and ensure it's easy on the stomach. If you suspect anything, inform her Head of House, she'll take care of it.

Elfrida Hopkirk: Very studious but always leaves everything for the last minute. It's that Ravenclaw side of her, having the brains and smarts gives them the excuse of doing things last minute with the assumption they fully understand the subject. She get's it but her heads is stuck in the clouds with that mindset. Needs to understand non-magical concepts and perhaps move her to Wednesday class. (If you are reading this Al, at least I know when to ask questions until I fully understand what the hell I'm doing before I slack off. She doesn't.)Kasey State: Grew up in an orphanage that sees her nothing more than a paycheck they are paid to supposedly to take care of her. Gave her a shitty education before coming here to this place. I swear, when I first saw her, she looked like she was starved. Have the house-elves set out extra meals for her. Needs a huge refresher in her studies but is very eager to learn. Warning: Don't visit the orphanage. Have Madam Sprout do it.

Alphonse couldn't help but smile softly at his brother's notes on his students, noticing the finer details in them. Details that need to be seen. Fred will be no problem, give him advanced work and have him help out the others. Timothy would help him, but needs to understand the human concepts of life. He'll have to break Elfrida out of that habit if hers. Kasey… Edward had once previously mentioned a student that grew up in an orphanage. Seeing said student in front of him, he could see how desperately she is trying to herself in her clothing, and failing desperately. After traveling for so long as he did and seeing the consequences of war, starvation is one of the many atrocities in humanity.

"Welcome to Alchemy, my name is Professor Elric, Mr. Elric your slated teacher is currently indisposed. Yes, we are related. No, we are not related in that way. He is my older brother. I am engaged. I am very happy with her." Alphonse couldn't help but show his utter disappointment how more than half the class visibly deflate. Seems like a lot of his fans are in class and now has to find a way to weed out the fans from the actual students.

-.-

Severus sat beside Edward's bed, a book in hand and a cup of black tea in the other. It was his turn to take care of Edward when Alphonse isn't around to make him stay in bed. Fortunately he was put into a magic induced sleep and it appears it is doing wonders for his healing process. Even so, here's hoping there won't be any long term effects. On the night table besides the bed is a package of stone cakes sent by Hagrid, one of the many forms of apologies from the half-giant.

There was no need to apologize, Edward in his medical induced haze that it wasn't anyone's fault. Animal's just have a tendency on harming him for the hell of it. This only caused Hagrid to burst into tears once more.

"What are we going to do with you…" Severus sighed, placing the now empty cup of tea on the night table and putting the book on the bed. He continued on talking as if Edward was actually listening and responding instead of being unconscious. "Not even a month in, and you already got yourself in this condition… don't give me that look. You have a tendency to get hurt, lost, maimed, insulting the wrong person, or a combination, which results with you in his sort of outcome… What did I say? Don't give me that look… Ugh… you are impossible."

-.-

"Should we accept this proposal?"

"If we do, it would allow us to put more heirs up front to become the next emperor or empress."

"He still has to pick…"

"Instead of possibly only have one choice from ever respective clan, there would be more. Everyone has an equal opportunity, from the smallest to the largest of clans."

"The only prerequisite he has is that they must attend the new school the Emperor is currently creating with the help of Amestris and Magical Great Britain."

"I like this proposal… providing an equal opportunity and dealing with that bothersome marriage law."

"Don't get me started… The Emperor's father keep taking our daughters, sisters, nieces and granddaughters without much of a care."

"Let's not forget… even the ones that were married or promised to someone were not off limits for him…"

"What if he does the same as his father?"

"Don't make me laugh. I've seen that Amestrian threaten him that if he ever does anything to offend that woman's honor, then he will be the one to beat him senseless."

"Can he do that?"

"From what I've heard, he could... He's not the only one who threatened Emperor Ling."

-.-

Mustang mentally grumbled to himself as he left Grumman's office, he was just kicked out of his leader's office while his Captain stayed behind. It was suspicious to say the least. Maybe there is something going on without his knowledge? There are constant whispers behind his and Hawkeye's back, all of them revolving around this upcoming law that will permanently change the military. Whatever it is… it has to be big…

-.-

"I had made a list of all possibly candidates for once the Anti-Fraternization laws are abolished, so that you know who I approve from greatest to least." Grumman handed his granddaughter a long list of possible candidates for supposed marriage.

Riza's hand were shaking at what her grandfather had just told her, the answers to all those whispers, innuendos, and so on. Her grandfather, the Fuhrer of Amestris, is removing one of the biggest laws the Military has for who knows how long. The only problem is that… why is he giving her a list of candidates for marriage?

"I am going to be officially announcing everyone you are my granddaughter, to avoid having issues of my own."

Riza gave the old man a deadpanned expression, she swore that Roy took a lot after Grumman than she cares to admit. "The list?"

"What? I am giving you my approval to anyone you choose from the list as a possible partner in the future and not worry about me. Plus, once word get's out who you are to me, there would be marriage proposals just for your connection to myself. I want to make sure you know who would be a good possible candidate for yourself."

"Why did you have General Mustang leave the room? Shouldn't he hear the news?"

"I'll leave that for you, I'll be making everything official at the end of the month."

"Thank you?"

-.-

"I'm the twelfth person on this list?!" Roy didn't bother to hide his look of utter disbelief and dismay at the list Riza just presented him with. "How in Truth's name did Havoc get to be number four while I'm twelve! And both Armstrong's are the first two on the list! ugh!"

Jean, for his own part, slowly hid underneath his desk to avoid his head officer's wrath.

"Sir… you're missing the point." Vato called out from his spot in the office, he was scanning through the paperwork that was required to officially abolished the anti-fraternization law.

"How are you above me by one!" Roy called out to Vato, pointing accusingly at him. "How are all of you above me!"

"You could see his pride being demolished bit by bit…" Heymans whispered out to his comrades with a chuckle but stopped with Riza glared at all of them.

"They should just make it official now…" Kain sighed.

"I'm just waiting until Hawkeye slap some sense into him." Jean whispered out from his spot from underneath his desk.

Roy snapped his fingers and ignited the list up in flames. He promptly ran his hands through his hair in frustration. So, this was what was being hidden from Riza and himself, Truth… he already had plans to get rid of that law down the line. This puts a wrench into his plans. His plans involve… it involves Riza helping him bring it down under Maes's name.

Who was their main supporter…

"…I wanted to romantically propose to you…"

"Sir, the law hasn't been abolished yet."

"Is that a yes or no?"

"You haven't asked me anything yet."

#Alchemy Series #Tiny Steps #FMA #FMAB #HP #HP/FMA #HP/FMAB #Crossover #AU #Fanfic #Pro!Snape

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bananannabeth · 8 years ago

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BITE: Chapter 10

percy jackson / teen wolf crossover sorry about the wait, i really appreciate how supportive you all are of this fic, i really appreciate all the likes and reblogs and asks and i hope you enjoy the update (✿◠‿◠)

10/? - Annabeth

The McCall's couch was comfortable. It was better than the motel bed that Annabeth and Percy had been staying in, anyway. It was soft and long enough for Annabeth to stretch her legs out, and she felt relatively safe there, but she couldn't sleep.

Percy was lying on a blowup mattress on the floor beside her; she could hear him breathing, a steady rhythm in the otherwise silent lounge. She wanted to check if he was awake, but didn't want to disturb him if he was asleep.

So Annabeth was stuck lying on her back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling of this strange house and running over everything that she'd learnt over the last day.

Werewolves could be friendly, for one.

She'd known something was weird about Scott McCall from the first moment she'd seen him in Biology - something about the way he held himself, with more awareness of his surroundings than the usual teenager - but she wouldn't have guessed that he was a werewolf until he'd shifted in their fight with the hellhound. He didn't seem like the type to enjoy violence or physical confrontations, nor did he seem to have any particular blood lust.

Annabeth had been wrong in her perceptions of supernatural people before, though. Look at Tyson.

So, for the most part, the McCall pack - made up of werewolves, humans and… something else, she suspected of Lydia - seemed friendly. They'd certainly been willing to go out of their way to help them save Hazel and Frank.

The two of them were asleep in the guest room, recovering from their traumatic kidnapping. The ambrosia had healed up the injuries on their wrists, and Frank's burns, but more time would be required for them to heal from the psychological scars.

After everyone else had left and Scott and Melissa had gone to bed, Hazel and Frank had sat up talking to Percy and Annabeth about what they'd been through.

They'd detailed how they'd been ambushed, how a highly organised and targeted group of werewolves, backed up by two hellhounds, had pounced on them. They'd had some sort of electrical device that had shocked Frank repeatedly and prevented him from shifting, and Hazel had been so terrified and overwhelmed by that that she hadn't been able to manipulate the mist fast enough. She'd been knocked unconscious in the fight, and when she'd woken up they'd been shackled in that underground lair.

It had been physical torture for Frank, who was shocked at regular intervals to prevent him from changing form, and it had been mental torture for Hazel, who could feel exactly which tunnels they could use to escape but had no way of getting to them.

Charlotte, the daughter of Apollo who'd originally been accompanying them, had made it back to Camp Jupiter safely purely because their enemy had wanted them to come looking for Frank and Hazel, Annabeth was sure of it. This entire thing was too well thought out and planned for her escape to have been a coincidence.

But what did Lycaon want? What made this pack of werewolves more desirable than others?

Something Stiles had said when they were in the reserve had been bugging her ever since. "We're near the Nemeton… a beacon for things that would like to hurt us."

She didn't recall anything about a Nemeton in ancient Greek or Roman lore, but, if the recent developments with her cousin Magnus were anything to go by, there was still plenty of mythological material out there to surprise her.

Lydia had felt strange being near the Nemeton, and Allison and Scott had looked outright terrified when Stiles had pointed out how close they were to it. Whatever magical properties that tree stump had, they weren't pleasant.

Agitated, Annabeth sighed and shifted on the couch, dropping her arm over the side and letting her hand graze the floor. Almost immediately, she felt Percy's fingers fill the spaces between her own.

"Are you awake?" she whispered, tilting her head to peer over the edge of the couch.

In the darkness she could just make out one of Percy's eyes, glinting in the tiny bit of moonlight filtering through a gap in the curtains. "Can't sleep," he murmured, squeezing her hand.

"Neither. I can't stop thinking about what Lycaon's plan is."

There was silence for a few moments, where Percy just ran the pad of his thumb in soft circles against the back of Annabeth's palm, and then he sighed.

She rolled onto her side so she could lean down closer to him. "What is it?"

"I don't like it here," Percy said. Annabeth resisted the urge to press him for more information, knowing the conversation would be more productive if she just let him take his time and speak when he was ready. Sure enough, after a brief pause, he continued on, voice low. "Something's messing with my powers."

Annabeth propped herself up on her elbow. "What do you mean?"

"Getting everyone out of that cave shouldn't have taken so much effort." There was the sound of rustling sheets as he rolled onto his side, and his hold on her hand loosened briefly before tightening again.

His sense of unease clawed its way from their linked hands up Annabeth's spine. She frowned. "There were a lot of people, and we were pretty deep underground -"

"I've done more than that before, you know I have." She could hear Percy's scowl in his voice.

"Yeah, but it was a stressful situation, you didn't have much time to prepare -"

He laughed so loud that she instinctively shushed him.

"When do I ever have time to prepare for shit like that?" he asked, in a slightly louder whisper than before. "It shouldn't have been enough to make me black out."

Annabeth didn't reply, because she knew he was right, and he knew it too.

She tugged on his arm until he got the hint and sat up so they were face to face. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, finding them easily despite the dark, and when they parted she tugged him up onto the couch with her. He clambered up over the side and climbed on top of her, deliberately nuzzling his face into the side of her neck and tickling her ribs as he went.

"Percy!" She laughed and pushed at him, kicking gently at his legs. "Shh, Percy, stop, we have to -"

"I am being quiet," he whispered, filling in the end of her sentence. "I'm just trying to go to sleep and you're hogging the whole couch."

"If you'd get off me I could move over -"

"I'm not even on you, you're just… right in the way…" He huffed out a breath as she poked him in the ribs, tilting his head forward so that their foreheads were touching.

"I'll push you back onto the floor, don't think I won't." She squirmed into the back of the couch.

He breathed against her lips. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, Seaweed Brain." She hoped that he could feel her smirk.

She could certainly feel his. "Oh, I'd love to -"

"Oh my god!"

Annabeth pushed at Percy's shoulders, but he was already moving on his own, jumping back onto his feet. The blanket that had been between them caught on his ankle and pooled on the floor, but he didn't stumble, pulling Riptide from the pocket of his pants and uncapping it in one swift movement.

The light flickered on and Annabeth spun around to see a shirtless Scott backed up against the wall, one hand splayed on the lightswitch and the other covering his eyes. His gray sweats were slung low on his hips. "Sorry, I didn't - I just wanted some water, I forgot you guys were here -"

Annabeth closed her eyes and exhaled. "Scott."

"Are you - Can I -?"

"We weren't doing anything," Percy said, recapping Riptide. "You can open your eyes."

"Didn't sound like you weren't doing anything…" Scott mumbled, but he lowered his arms anyway. "Sorry for scaring you. I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could we," Annabeth said, sweeping her tangled hair over her shoulder.

Scott nodded and stumbled over to the sink. "Do you want some water?"

"That'd be great, thanks," Percy replied.

Annabeth shifted up so that he could sit beside her, and Scott took the armchair opposite her after handing them each a glass. The atmosphere was sufficiently awkward, with two shirtless boys and Annabeth sitting in tense silence.

"So how's it work?" Scott eventually asked, gesturing at his drink. "The whole 'power over water' thing… Is it, like, all water?"

Percy shrugged one shoulder and took a long gulp of his drink. Some of the shadow lifted from under his eyes as he did so. "Yeah. Seawater's best, and the more polluted the water the less it'll work for me, but yeah."

Scott's eyes were still slightly glassy from exhaustion, but he looked pretty riveted. "So, like, even rain water? This tap water?"

Percy lifted a finger and the water in Scott's glass floated into the air, forming a perfect sphere. He spun the sphere in the air in front of Scott's eyes before having it pour like a miniature waterfall back into his cup.

"Whoa!" Scott exclaimed. "That's amazing!"

"Show off," Annabeth teased, knocking her knees into Percy's. He smiled at her, a little bashful.

Scott went to take a sip of his drink and then seemed to think twice about it. He cradled the cup in his hands and asked, "So today, when you got us out of there, you summoned that water from underground? Can all children of Poseidon do that?"

"Uh, well, there aren't any other demigod children of Poseidon at the moment, so I don't know, actually," Percy explained.

Scott gaped. "You're the only child of Poseidon?"

"Only demigod child of Poseidon," Percy corrected. "I have a brother who's a cyclops -"

"A cyclops!"

"And some other half-siblings who I'd rather not think about… it gets sort of weird…"

Scott turned to Annabeth. "What about you, are you the only demigod child of Athena?"

Annabeth laughed. "No, definitely not. I have plenty of brothers and sisters."

"She's the best of the bunch, though," Percy said.

She ducked her head, hiding her smile. "You're biased."

When she looked back to Scott, he was watching them with a soft smile, almost like he was reminiscing.

She straightened her spine and cleared her throat. "So, Scott, you said you couldn't sleep - Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just… I can't help worrying about why Lycaon chose Beacon Hills." He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"We'll make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else," Percy said immediately.

"I know we're going to try, but Derek seems pretty worried about it, and from what you guys have said it seems like we're in real trouble. I don't know if the pack's ready to fight another enemy like this…" Scott lowered his voice and dropped his gaze, hands curling tightly around his cup. "I don't know if I'm ready to lead them in a fight against an enemy like this."

Annabeth tilted her head to the side, intrigued. "You haven't been Alpha for very long?"

"Just a few weeks." Scott huffed out a humourless laugh. "I don't know the first thing about being an Alpha. Derek's here to help, of course, but ultimately I know it all comes down to me now. Everyone's going to follow my lead."

"Based on your actions today, it's a good lead to follow," Percy said sincerely.

"I didn't do anything today, that was all you guys -"

"We wouldn't have gotten Frank and Hazel back without your help," Percy insisted. "You did a lot for us today, and we really appreciate it."

Scott ducked his head and smiled shyly. "Thanks."

Annabeth tossed her empty cup back and forth between her hands. "Do you think the Nemeton has anything to do with why Lycaon's here?"

Scott's head whipped up, and his soft brown eyes were wide. "It could be - The Nemeton, it's… it's sort of just been woken up. We woke it up. There was this Druid, she had our parents, we had to do this ritual to figure out where they were -"

"Who's we?" Annabeth asked.

"Me, Allison, Stiles." Scott ran a hand through his hair. "Deaton said that there'd be side effects…"

Scott's shoulders slumped forward. He looked small and sad, head bowed and limbs curled in.

"Whatever's going on with Lycaon, it's not your fault," Percy said softly.

Scott looked up, locking gazes with him. Something unsaid passed between the two boys, and then Scott smiled a lopsided smile that was scarily familiar.

"What in God's name are you all doing awake?" Melissa appeared in the doorway, hands on hips. "I know that there's a new supernatural threat in town but that doesn't mean you don't have school in the morning, Scott."

"Aw, mom!" he whined, tossing his head back.

"We do, too," Percy said, stretching and cracking his back. "We should try to get some sleep."

Annabeth frowned. "What? Why do we have school?"

Percy looked at her like it was obvious. "Because Frank and Hazel need to rest, which means they can keep an eye on things here, and we need to stay close to Scott and the rest of the pack."

It was obvious.

Annabeth swore in Ancient Greek while Scott laughed.

Percy smirked. "I want you to remember this, Scott. That's Annabeth speak for 'You're right, Percy, wow you're so smart, why didn't I think of that first?'"

Annabeth scowled. "Shut up, Seaweed Brain."

He laughed and tugged the blanket out from under her hips.

Melissa smiled, a little exasperated and a lot fond. It was the sort of smile that Sally often wore. "Goodnight, you two. I'll wake you up at the same time as Scott."

"I can't believe you're making me go to school," Scott whined as he trailed after Melissa, dropping their cups in the sink on the way. "I have to protect the town."

"You can protect the town outside of school hours," Melissa said.

Percy chuckled as he switched the light off. "Am I back on the air mattress?"

"Get over here." Annabeth held her arms out to him, smiling as he settled onto the couch with her. "Just try not to drool in my hair."

"Oh, one time."

#mine #bite #why do you write like you're running out of time?#teen wolf #pjo #pjo au #teen wolf au #teen wolf fic #pjo fic #hoo #hoo fic #teen wolf x percy jackson

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