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secretobsessionstuff · 2 years ago

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Got this request from @5sosxqueen

"Could you possibly do one with riley and madix, where they are out somewhere walking along a street probably window shopping of sorts and the riley suddenly gets dizzy and stumbles into the road right into oncoming traffic and the caretaker pulls him/her in just in the nic of time? Dizziness, fainting, and bonus points if they vomit on the caretaker right after due to the sudden movement."

Thanks for the lovely request and for being so patient!

Content Warning: Discussion of mental health issues, depression, shitty side effects of medication!!!

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“Where do you want to eat?” Madix asked, looking around at the stores and restaurants that lined Westcoombed Avenue. The sky was overcast with a slight drizzling rain. With much difficulty, he let go of his boyfriend’s hand long enough to check his watch. “We have two hours ‘til we have to be at the bar.”

It was not a typical bar they were going to; it was a comedy bar. Madix preferred this type of bar because his new meds did not like to mingle with alcohol; the combination often created disastrous effects. The last time he woke up to see he’d blown a blood vessel in his eye from vomiting long and hard.

The comedy bar was having an improv night, meaning he didn’t need to get drunk in order to smile. He wondered how potent the jokes would be and if they’d be enough to trick him into thinking he was adapting to his new normal. The anti-depressants were helping but he felt emotionally dead while taking them. And he wasn’t thrilled about the non-existent libido.

Anyway, a night of shopping and comedy would surely fix all his problems!

Actually, the shopping portion of their night was coming to an end. Madix and Riley walked lazily down the street with bags in their hands. Riley had bought new shoes that looked terribly uncomfortable to Madix, but he kept insisting that they were in style. With the way Riley tripped down the trendy strip of Toronto, you would have thought that he was already breaking in the new shoes.

Madix held onto his boyfriend a little tighter. “Did you forget how to walk?”

“Maybe.” Riley looked down at his two left feet, almost anxiously. “Can we walk slower?”

“Sure…” Madix said with a frown but slowed his pace considerably. “Everything okay?” He tried to catch Riley’s downturned gaze.

“Uh—” Riley hesitated and licked his lips, apparently considering how or if he was going to answer. He let out a fatigued sigh. “I’m…a bit dizzy. It’s been a long day of standing.”

Madix nodded “I also seem to recall you not eating very much at lunch.”

“Yeah. I don’t know…” He grabbed the back of his neck, feeling the cold sweat on his skin. “My stomach feels funny.”

“Since lunch?” When Riley replied with only a shrug, Madix’s frown deepened. “Why didn’t you say anything? You’ve been feeling bad all day!”

“And you’ve been feeling bad for months.”

Madix sighed. So that’s what this was about. “Riley—”

“—This is the first time in a while that you wanted to get out of the house and do something. I thought your meds were finally starting to work—that you were starting to feel like yourself again—I didn’t want to take this away from you.”

Madix stopped walking suddenly, bringing the two of them to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. Before the other pedestrians could bump into them, he pulled Riley to the edge where a bench and a bus stop blocked them from the road.

“Can I be honest?” Madix asked, grabbing Riley by the shoulders as they sat down on the cold bench.

“Please.”

“I don’t think I’m going to feel normal for a long time. I think the meds are going to take some getting used to—hell, they might not even be the right ones.”

“I know.” Riley let out an exasperated sigh. He didn’t like the way the lights were playing tricks with his eyes. Madix’s face was inches from his own, but he could hardly keep the sight from blurring. He hated feeling so unfocused. “I know all this. I’m the one who told you to be patient with the Prozac.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Ugh, I don’t even know anymore.” Riley closed his eyes, feeling like the world was spinning around this cold bench. On the inside of his eyelids, he could still see the fuzzy halos around the streetlamps and the car lights. “I’m sorry. My head hurts. It’s making me nauseous and disorientated.”

“That’s alright. I’m more than okay with going home if you’re feeling sick.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” What Madix didn’t say was that he was almost happy about ending the night early. They did their shopping. He had an afternoon of breathing in the not-so fresh air of the city. That was good enough for one day. His bones ached for his bed and his head ached for the dark. “I promise I’ll force myself out of the house another time.”

As Riley let go of the tension in his shoulders—a sign that he was relieved to be going home—Madix took his hands in his.

“But Riley, listen…” Madix began. Then stopped. It was such an unexcepted stop. Any normal person would take that word listen as their cue to let him speak.

Riley waited a beat (being a normal person and all), but Madix didn’t carry on. “What is it?”

“I was taking to Dakota about this. Then Doctor Marlow…” Madix trailed off again. The cars and busses that passed by on the street tugged at his attention. His head moved with the vehicles as if attached by a string. Madix opened his mouth, then closed it.

Riley touched his leg. “Babe?”

Madix shook his head and made eye contact with his boyfriend again. “How bad is your head? We can stop by a drug store.”

“Madix!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. See that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“We’ll try harder. I’m having a hell of a time following.” Riley pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a throbbing pain beneath his fingers that travelled up his forehead. He imagined a red, raw line bisecting his face. It reminded him that his brain had to ignore the constant sight of his nose. Well, now his brain was no longer ignoring it which made the headache double in intensity. He was glad to not be wearing his glasses because it would have been yet another visual stimulus.

Madix laughed at himself. “I should be worrying about myself, right?”

“Well, not worrying. Just working on yourself.”

“Yes, exactly.” Madix looked down and tapped a rhythm on his leg. “It’s really hard to worry—work—on myself, while also worrying about you.” He switched to tracing his finger around his pant pocket. “Like now, I would be feeling so much better if I wasn’t stressing over the fact that you’ve been feeling sick all day and I didn’t know.”

“But if I’d told you earlier, you’d be in the same position as you are right now.”

“It would have been easier.”

“How?”

Madix threw his hands up. “I don’t know. It just would. It’s been established that my mental state is a little wonky, so don’t make me explain my thought process.” He finally looked up at his boyfriend and was able to see the haziness in Riley’s eyes. Madix gave him a sad smile and touched his cheek. “At the very least you’d be warm in bed.”

Riley leaned into the touch. “That sounds really nice.”

“Then let’s get off this wet bench and go home.” Madix’s attention went to his phone as he checked the subway schedule.

Riley stood up without issue, lulling both of them into a false sense of safety. The real danger came when he had to put one foot in front of the other. Maybe it was due to the psychological nature of their talk, but Rorschach inkblots suddenly bled across his vision. Splotchy black butterflies fluttered passed his pupil.

Not but two steps later, he was stumbling towards the road. The buildings and far off skyscrapers fell on their side. Westcoombe avenue sunk below the horizon as he began to faint. Even if there was time, he couldn’t have said anything to alert Madix of his impending fall because nausea filled his throat.

The last thing Riley saw before the darkness took over was the reflection of headlights in the puddles of rainwater on the road. He heard a car honk its horn, but he could not reverse his downward trajectory. The darkness spread and he waited for—

“Riley, oh my God!” Madix shouted as he yanked on the boy’s limp arm.

It was not graceful. Time did not slow. Their eyes did not meet as the reality of what transpired dawned on them. One second, Riley was falling towards the road, and the next second he was being pulled backwards. He spun awkwardly and caught himself with a hand on Madix’s chest. A rush of cars caused a gust of wind to lift his coat. He was suddenly freezing and shaking.

Madix’s eyes were puddles of shock and worry. His pupils went back and forth rapidly, trying to find sense in Riley’s unfocused ones. He kept his hand wrapped tightly around his boyfriend’s bicep. Words would not come to his lips.

Riley wobbled in Madix’s embrace. His eyes drooped as if he were drunk. “What was that about making you worry?” he slurred out just before vomiting down Madix’s chest.

His head lolled forward as the sick poured from his mouth. He felt as if he were still being spun around from the road. Nighttime colours of navy blues, taillight red, and black inky rain slashed across his vision. And his mind kept replaying that dizzying motion. Fainting, Falling, Spinning.

Spinning

And spinning

Madix’s grip was strong. Unyielding, much like the traffic that would not have stopped in time if Riley had kept falling.

More vomit fell past his lips, coating Madix’s shoes.

“Oh, whoa!” Madix tensed up as he got splashed. But he did not let go of Riley’s arm. He could feel the boy shaking. “Easy, love, I’ve got you.”

“Ugh, my head,” Riley groaned before an empty heave tore his chest in half. His whole body was sore. To keep from crushing his useless legs, he held onto Madix’s shoulders. “I’m spinning.”

“You’re okay. You’re not moving, I promise.”

“I need to sit down.”

“Back to the wet bench, it is.” Madix said, guiding his wobbly boyfriend. They sat down slowly. “See, see. Everything is okay.”

“Is it?”

Madix bit his lip. No. “Yes.” You just fainted in the street. “You’re just a little dizzy.”

“Did I pass out?”

“For a second.” Madix fussed with Riley’s jacket, straightening it, and dusting off tiny droplets of water. He chuckled because it seemed to be the only way he knew how to cope with what just happened. “You bastard, scared me.”

Riley spoke quietly, with his brows knit together as if he weren’t really sure of anything just then. “I saw a car coming towards me.” Everything he said somehow sounded like a question.

Madix cocked his head. “I don’t think they saw you.” His heart jackhammered against his rib cage. He certainly wasn’t feeling numb anymore. “Fuck, I’m glad I noticed in time.”

Riley moaned and closed his eyes. “Sorry…I-I’m—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Madix said quickly.

“Did I throw up on you?”

“You keep asking questions you know the answer to.”

Riley cracked open his aching eyes just enough to see that he did know the answer. There was a stain of vomit on Madix’s coat. He closed his eye quickly once more. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Madix said, looping his arm around Riley’s. This time he wasn’t going to let go. “Just hold on to me. I’m getting you home in one piece.”

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masterwords · 2 years ago

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It's cheesy but would you consider a sleep deprived Hotch trying to hold conversation with Derek but failing and falling asleep on him instead. Maybe they're already together at this point maybe the interaction melts Derek's heart to the stoic emotionless Boss. ☺️❤️

Look at me, answering asks from November! I swear I'll get to all of them eventually. But anyway, I love this one so much and it made me think of their late night in 5x05 - Cradle to Grave and "This is the job" and "Unless you have other plans" and "Not tonight" and...anyway! It's kind of platonic-ish but really not at all, you know how it goes with me and my rotting brain. (1.4k words)

*** a perfect setting ***

“This is the job,” he says with a smirk, but as lighthearted as he's trying to play this off it's just not. There isn't any question that he's doing the right thing. He can't keep this job for many reasons. Foyet is watching him and there is a certain performance he knows he needs to give, but he's not sure that it's still a performance. It might be true. He might be falling apart.

He hasn't slept in two days. Between the pain that hits so hard in the middle of the night and the phantom sounds of locks clicking and floors creaking and walls groaning...he's had the worst couple of nights in recent history. As the fog clears on his attack and those memories start to settle into their proper places, he's finding it harder to adjust to any sort of healthy rhythm. He fell asleep at the table while he was drinking his morning coffee, just lay his head down on his arms and dozed off until an email buzzed the phone against his arm and startled him awake.

First instinct? The holster on his leg.

Reaching for his weapon because of his phone. So yeah, maybe he was coming apart just a little. And giving this job to Derek made sense.

But watching the ease with which Derek absorbs the information he's attempting to lay out in a concise way is really forcing him to see the situation with a clarity he hadn't before. The stark contrast between the way Derek focuses and his own inability is startling.

“I could use some coffee, you?” he asks, and Derek nods quickly.

“Yeah. Coffee. Good call.”

He's half asleep when he stands, a little wobbly, a little unsteady. Exhausted and battling medications that come with bold warnings about side-effects like dizziness, drowsiness, fatigue, he also knows there are even simpler facts here that he's got to contend with. Hardly two months prior, he lost a massive amount of blood and that alone is bound to be a problem for a while longer if his doctors are to be believed. “Stop drinking coffee,” they tell him with those sour faces. “Drink water. You lost a significant amount of blood. It doesn't just regenerate over night and everything is back to normal.” Well, water doesn't help him stay awake so he's desperate.

He has some pills to take, his phone buzzes in his pocket and reminds him. He's been snoozing that alarm for hours, and now he's dangerously close to not being able to take them at all and having to wait for the next day's dose. But they make him so damn tired. He washes them down with coffee and hopes for the best.

“You don't need to stick around,” Derek says when he notices the way Hotch's eyelids get heavy while he glances over what Derek has completed so far. “I got this.”

“I'm okay,” Hotch lies. His meds are making him foggy. No matter how much caffeine he dumps in there he's still exhausted and falling asleep sitting up only with the added pleasure of heartburn and the inability to actually stay asleep if he lets himself drift. There has to be a line he crosses into total body shut down, he's just not there yet. Derek shrugs and goes back to his file when he sees Hotch pull one from the pile on the little coffee table and begin looking through what he's done.

The next time he looks up, Hotch's chin is buried in his chest. Derek walks over and drops the file onto the pile and slowly slips the open folder out of Hotch's hand. This, of course, wakes him up.

“Have a seat,” he says, trying to save face. “I noticed something you missed.” His voice is groggy and slow. Derek rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Oh, now come on...you were asleep...”

“Be that as it may, I did see something you missed.”

Derek sits down and Hotch doesn't skip a beat, he's leaning close and pointing to a few things that Derek sees right away...he must be tired too. He blinks hard and tries to focus, he's not used to staying up this late. Sure, maybe on the weekends when he wants to party a little and let loose but he's pretty rigid about bed time and wake up time on work nights if their case load allows. He values his full night of sleep, his morning workout, his routine. Taking this job is going to burn all of that down if he's not careful, starting tonight. He can't remember the last time he downed a cup of coffee after midnight.

Hotch smells really good. Like he's fresh out of the shower, and he shampoos with money. It's more than a little distracting in a very pleasant way. It's been a while since they've been this close, since they've fallen asleep in a pile on a couch in the middle of case files. Haley used to throw blankets over the top of them when they were at Hotch's home, just heap them in all sorts of mismatched granny throws and let them stay where they were. He misses those days, so this is making him more than a little wistful.

As he fixes the mistakes he made, he notes that beside him rather quickly, Hotch loses his battle with sleep entirely. He's still sitting up but his head is lolling to the side, slowly drifting closer and closer until it's resting heavy against Derek's shoulder. He doesn't flinch when the connection is made, and he doesn't wake. Slowly, so as not to disturb him, Derek closes the file and slides it to the couch beside him before leaning back into the cushions and letting himself succumb.

It's way past his bed time, and besides, isn't he the boss now? It's quitting time.

JJ happens upon them during her morning rounds. She's no stranger to this sight, except it's been a long time and she almost can't believe it. Unfortunately, something that should feel a little nostalgic fills her with a little dread because she can't think of any good reason for them having slept in Hotch's office. Not since Foyet.

“...time is it?”

She drops the files off on his desk, grabs what he's got in his outbox, and whispers that they've got plenty of time before anyone else will be in. “You guys should go get some breakfast...maybe shower...”

“My place isn't far away.” Derek's eyes aren't even open yet, his arms are folded over his chest

“I didn't mean shower together...”

Penelope, who shouldn't be at work yet but has somehow found her way into the mix, chimes in with a grin. “If we're talking about doubling up on showers, dibs on Hot Chocolate...no offense, sir.”

Hotch flushes and stands up. His ribs ache and his head swims. He needs a few more hours of sleep, and some food. And water, his mouth is parched. “I think I'll head home. Call if you need me. I'll be back in time for the morning briefing.”

“Yeah...heading home sounds nice. I'll uh...” Derek pauses, finally opening his eyes and glancing at Hotch, really taking in how tired he looks. “You know what? Make it lunch time. I'll be back by lunch.”

They leave the office together without any fuss, just grab their jackets and leave. Hotch can't remember the last time he left without his briefcase and a go-bag in his hand, but he's just too tired to care. And he isn't the boss anymore. He's allowed to leave his work at work for a while.

Hotch is so exhausted that he just follows Derek to his car like a lost puppy. “You wanna just come to my place? It's closer. I've got a guest bed, you can get a few extra hours of shut eye in there. I'll even let Clooney pop in and I'll turn a blind eye if you want him on the bed if you ask nice.”

Hotch considers his apartment, how cold it is, how he sees Foyet in the shadows, and for once he gives in. Derek's home is warm and inviting, and Clooney always makes him feel safe.

“That would be nice.” He hasn't been to Derek's house in years, hasn't seen Clooney in forever.

Derek grins. “Just like old times, huh?”

A sleepy and content smile drifts over his features as he slides into the passenger seat of Derek's car. “Just like old times.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #hotch x morgan #ficlet #or something #sleepy dudes #fanfiction

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luna-writes-stuff · 3 years ago

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OMG I saw your requests were open so, if you don't mind, what about a human (t/n) with bad insomnia? (this has been happening since I was 16, now I'm 20)

I can only sleep if I take pills but I feel really fatigue when I wake up, this mostly ends with a terrible headache in the afternoon (maybe that's why I look like an angry tired racoon all day😔👊🏻). I can guess Middle Earth would be like a nightmare to me. Scalp massages sometimes work.

Could you do headcanons or an scenario with Thorin and Fili?

Feel free to reject it!

Btw: I love you posts! ❤️

Insomnia, Thorin Oakenshield

I’m sorry but I only write for one character at a time. Otherwise it might slow down the other requests. I chose Thorin (felt like it fit with your profile ;) )

Headcanons, genderneutral s/o

Tw: Insomnia, mentions of medicines, everyone lives!AU, established relationship, fluff???

- Your sleeping problems had been no secret to the company. Gandalf had managed to get you to sleep thanks to his wizard resources, but when he left, you were without sleep.

- You had only taken a small box from home with your sleeping meds, since Gandalf told you you would barely need them.

- But now he was gone, and the Mirkwood dungeons were pure horror for you. Sleep couldn’t find you at all. You were exhausted and spent, but you couldn’t bring yourself to doze off. You had tried, really, but you were incapable.

- The elves had taken everything from the company, including your pills, even as the company threatened the pointy ears.

- Thorin had usually always been by your side and made sure you took your meds on time, helping you in the mornings.

- But now he was left with seeing you in pain and struggle. This poor guy had even begged the elves to make you stay with him, but they paid him no heed.

- So when you did finally escape the woods and Bard found you, you had nearly collapsed out of exhaustion. At his home, Oin managed to create a make-shift medicine for you. It wasn’t half as strong as you would like, but it would at least get you to sleep.

- But as I said, it wasn’t half as strong as you had wished. Your headaches grew worse and the tiredness just couldn’t seem to disappear.

- When the mountain had finally been reclaimed, more medics and merchants traveled to Erebor, finally granting you access to new medicines.

- Thorin and Oin made sure you had the best of the best, not settling for anything less than what you had before.

- But it was no miracle worker. The headaches grew lesser and the fatigue wasn’t half as bad as before, but it wasn’t like everything had disappeared. It was an improvement, but not the best.

- Yet, you were satisfied, happy to finally sleep well again.

- In the mornings, Thorin always made sure to stay beside you, letting you snooze for a while with him, holding you close as his hands ran through your hair.

- He would slowly wake you up and offer you a glass of water, which was almost a ritual for him. He found it very important to drink in the morning, claiming it helped you warm up to the day easier and making it less likely to fall back asleep.

- When the headaches did come back around, he made sure you took your painkillers, putting you in a quiet place with little distractions. Often, his sister would come to visit you to keep you company, talking about anything and everything.

- Whenever he had time for you around royal business, he was practically attached at your hip, always following you around and making sure you were okay.

- He knew how much braiding your hair soothed you (almost as much as it soothed him), so he’d always play with it, occasionally offering you a scalp massage if the headaches became too much to handle.

- He’d have a cold rag to the front of your head, causing relaxation to enter your body yet again. He knew it would never be perfect, but he truly does the best he can.

- He just wants to spoil his partner, making sure they are okay at all times. He will do literally anything for you. Anything to make things easier for you or to help you.

- It’s really funny how he can go from stern king to soft husband. And he can do it with a simple snap of his fingers. Only for you.

#thorin and company #thorin oakenshield #tolkien #lord of the rings #the hobbit #richard armitage #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin imagine

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tg-headcanons · 3 years ago

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How do Shuu's illnesses impact/affect his day to day life? Do they affect the capacity to which he can fight? (also bonus for Shuunaki sick day hcs)

French fuck’s genes are a burnt omelette so this guy got HEALTH PROBLEMS

When he was younger he had issues with scoliosis which he had surgery to correct when he was in middle school. Because of that he has a small faded scar running down his back. It’s very neat and he’s had any scar removal treatment available to him done, but a slim line remains. He’s a bit self conscious of it and doesn’t like people seeing it

He can’t digest RC in high quantities. Eating a human is fine, a human with high RC would give him a little stomach upset, and a ghoul would leave him wretching. He doesn’t produce enough Rubrupuerase, the enzyme ghouls have that breaks down digested rc cells, so can only take in so much at a time. He needs to stagger his meals, eating a little every day as opposed to how other ghouls would eat half their body weight once every other week. His father has this same problem, and has figured out ways to prepare cuts of meat so it’s easier to digest before Shuu was born. He would show his son the ways he has his servants prepare it as a kid whenever he was worried about eating in case it made him sick. He bonded with his father over it and was inspired to look for his own ways to prepare new delicious meals and his love of crafting food still remains

His immune system and healing isn’t great. Often when ghouls get sick, their body just kamikazes infected cells and regrows. Well with Shuu, he doesn’t have that much RC so any amount of healing is a bit of a strain. Sicknesses that would barely bother others keep him bedridden, and he needs to eat more. In flu season he wears a face mask and everyone in the mansion is instructed to wash their hands religiously. Even the humans they hunt are boiled for a minute before they even start preparing them in case they carried illnesses

His hair color and kagune come from the same genetic mutation, which isn’t a health problem per say, but does effect him. Unlike regular koukaku, his is slender and made up mostly of hard outer shell. This means it’s extra sharp and less heavy, but is also less strong. That’s for the best though, as he would probably struggle to wield a heavier kagune

He’s physically not quite as strong as ghouls usually are. The average ghoul is 7x as strong as a human with their same build, but between adrenal insufficiency, limited RC, and slow healing, Shuu is only about 5x stronger. Of course he’s still going to outmatch his prey by far, but one on one with another ghoul he’s at a disadvantage

Probably the worst thing is his adrenal insufficiency. It’s good that he was born rich because he probably wouldn’t survive if he had to fight and hunt for himself. On the best days he has no problem hunting and fighting, though he isn’t as strong as other ghouls and has a low stamina, requiring him to rest after awhile lest he completely passes out. On the worse days he can get bad pain in his muscles, joints, and stomach that keep him from getting out of bed

He can go for long periods of time with little to no symptoms, or days and weeks of being confined to his room. He takes medications and supplements, he has painkillers for when it’s bad, his fancy ass shower is built so he can sit down in it and he even has a wheelchair to use when walking is too rough, it’s just something he lives with. Thankfully he has the resources he needs and supportive family, it sucks but he’ll be alright

Sick days are usually pretty quiet. If it’s too hard to move around he’ll stay in bed, but if he can stand or at least use the wheelchair he spends a lot of time in the library or the garden. He’s always loved reading, it’s something he was able to do even when he was too ill to move since he was a kid. His father and servants will visit him sever times a day, he has coffee with Matsumae or Kanae if they have the time, but mostly he’s alone

When he and Naki started dating, Naki didn’t understand at first why he took all these pills and got sick so often, and it took awhile for him to really understand that Shuu will always be a little ill and sometimes that means he can’t walk needs to sit down more. He doesn’t understand how it works, only that some days Shuu hurts too much to leave the house. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to be with him though, and has taken to curling up in bed with him on the worse days. Shuu finds it much less lonely to have someone with him who’s there out of more than a sense of duty. His boyfriend will cuddle up and let him read aloud to him instead of just himself, explain his newest obsessions and play his records that he insists sounds so much better than digital music. He feels comfortable having him there, knowing that he has no where else to be and nothing else to do like his servants, not even a duty to be here, that he’s staying with him just because he wants to and doesn’t care that he can’t walk today

Naki is surprisingly good support. He’s figured out the routine enough to bring Shuu his meds in the morning, and if they’re out somewhere together and Shuu starts feeling fatigued he’ll just picking him up like a cat so he doesn’t have to walk. At this point he’s sometimes jokingly introduced as Shuu’s service animal. And while he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, Naki does want to know how to make things easier for his boyfriend. He washes his hands a lot more thoroughly now when the weather gets cold since he saw the servants to it, and his efforts alone are enough to make Shuu feel better

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul headcanon #shuu tsukiyama #naki #shuunaki

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justaratswriting · 4 years ago

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Batfam and Mental Health

orOkay so I love Batman and all the things surrounding it. Like the idea of a random rich man who happens to be an orphan just suddenly adopting a ton of children is ridiculous, and thoroughly entertaining.

But I am also a big fan of psychology, and learning about the mind. So mental illness and related things are fascinating to me.

I notice that like strangely there is very little stuff about the batfam having mental illnesses or dealing with psychology or therapy. Don’t get me wrong there is still a lot addressing these things, but still with the things the family experiences you would think it would be a lot more prevalent in the writing about them, and especially fan fiction about them.

Like I think showing mental health through beloved characters would be really cool and could be a tool to destigmatize them. Like showing hero's with them would make really great representation, people could see them and think Oh I can still be a good person and helpful even if my mental disorder makes it hard and for things like depression or ADHD showing which misconceptions are harmful and don’t work.

I can also see this in the physical aspect, like I wish a hero would have something like chronic pain or one of the many invisible illnesses. To give representation and show how pushing through the pain can shut a person down for days.

The specific disorders I think would be really interesting of the top of my head is, depression, Anxiety, POTS, Fibromyalgia, Chronic pain, eating disorders, nerve damage, ADHD, Bipolar, OCD, Chronic fatigue, PTSD, c-PTSD, Autism, Elhers Danlos syndrome, And the one I really think would be interesting DID.

Like fore depression, showing how hard it is to get out of bed. Not showing constantly being sad but showing how it can be numbing. Acknowledging that in a disorder like this logic doesn’t always win even if you are the most logical person to live.

For anxiety showing how debilitating it can be. Looking into their minds to show the thought process, the mind fight itself and logic. Knowing their fears are unreasonable but not being able to shake the feeling. Show how for different people different things cause anxiety.

POTS or Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, (super simply put it is a circulation disorder where upon standing up blood rushes to extremities and can cause all sorts of problems like fainting, pain in your feet, Dizziness, poor temperature regulation, etc. Also I am assuming people know what depression and anxiety is.) would be fascinating to me. Like having a hero that is constantly sitting down or biting down and pushing through the pain even a hero that has to slowly stand up. So in the middle of a battle being shoved down having to slowly stand up or risk fainting or vision completely blacking out for a while. Showing a hero who has learned to fight with no sight because of that very thing.

Or Fibromyalgia (This one I am a little less educated about but from what I understand, it is a disorder characterized by muscle pain and tenderness usually with no known cause, so from what I understand it usually is diagnosed after a ton of other disorders are eliminated and the pain is still occurring, often also has affect on sleep and memory/mood.) Like showing a hero having a particularly hard patrol and having to take a couple days off and constantly going places or trying things to help with the pain.

Or Chronic pain ( from what I understand the main difference between Fibromyalgia and Chronic pain is chronic pain has to do with the nerves and Fibromyalgia has to do with muscles, also Fibromyalgia has other thins to go with it like energy levels and mental functions so memory/mood.) Like a hero having constant pain even if they didn’t have a big fight, maybe showing them icing, heating, or taking pain meds and the rest of the family or team being super confused as to why. Before they know showing them freak out and worry that they went on a mission without telling anyone. Showing how it is a constant battle, that sometimes treatments will work and other times, for seemingly no reason they won’t.

I would also like to see eating disorders portrayed by the bat family. Showing how it’s not always a conscious choice, sometimes it is more along the lines of choosing something else over eating. Showing how people can use it for control or to punish themselves. Letting there be a male example, reminding people that they can happen to anyone. Allowing people to have representation. Show a recovery, how it is not impossible for anyone but not down playing how hard it is. It is a true and hard fight, and show how it can sneak up on you and drag you back. Not just one easy recovery, that recovery is a choice. You have to want it but you also need help, it is a long hard process and accessibility is everything. Show a family member making them food, show them sometimes eating it and others not. Also don’t only show under eating show how people can’t stop themselves from eating. Having cabinets locked to keep people out, for their own safety.

Or nerve damage, showing how years of their work and fighting can really mess someone up. Show someone suddenly losing all feeling or sensation in certain parts of their body or constant pain or even pinched nerves. Show how confusing it can be to not know what you are feeling. Show how weird it can be when you realize you are fine or that nothing is touching you or taking it in the opposite direction and not realizing you are hurt or someone is trying to be your attention. I would also love to see the batfam explain any of these injuries to the hero community or to the public. Maybe show the hero community really starting to look into mental and general health services.

ADHD or also ADD, showing how people can use it but also showing how hard it can be to control and fight. How much it can impede focusing and show situations it can put people in. Show a hero forgetting a huge part of their plan and falling but because of some random information from a hyper focus they still save the day.

Bipolar, showing the wild swings and how confusing it can be. Feeling like a different person, struggling with identity and their own decisions. Show them accidently pushing people away but also how hard they work to maintain family and friends that despite how unpredictable they can be their friends still stick around. Or if their friends can’t handle it show them peacefully and respectfully stepping out of their life. Show how hard that can be to except but that the future can end up better than you could ever hope.

OCD is really one I wish we saw in the hero's. Show their routines and things they do. Show the thought process, like if I don’t properly put the dishes away in fourteen seconds the joker will escape arkham. Show how terrifying the thoughts can be, but show how detail oriented it can make people and the beautiful art and amazing work that they can do. Show a person putting them selves at risk to comply with their routine. Like ignoring injuries to write a report. Show them and family or friends working to change the routine. Show how hard it is the moments they want to turn back and continue and how much they want to stop but show them not giving up and making the differences they want. Show them accomplishing things, show their compulsions actually keeping them safe.

Or even chronic fatigue, Show the fight each morning. Them saving energy, the disconnect between how exhausted you are mentally vs. physically. Show a hero that 50% of the time physically is too exhausted to be in the field so they offer technical support. Show a hero crashing, suddenly just not having enough energy to finish patrol or even get home. So someone has to come pick them up. Show them getting stuck in a fight and how hard it can be to do anything much less a fight.

Let the characters have PTSD or c-PTSD, show flashbacks and being stuck in your head. All of the bat family has lived through horrors please show it affecting them. Show how they get help how they work through it show what can happen and how bad it can get if it is unaddressed.

Show them having autism and how it is just a different way of life that there is nothing inherently wrong with it and how the ignorance that surrounds it and similar disorders can hurt and affect people. Show how it can be simple things that can show it or affect it. Try and look at it from their perspective and what things happen that should not just because they way someone is.

Elhers Danlos syndrome, show the pain, the misdiagnosis, the process, the fight. Show how disabilities like this and several others including ones I have mentioned can cause a person to need medical equipment such as wheelchairs and braces. Show how not everyone using a wheelchair can’t walk. Show how limiting it can be and the precautions you have to take but don’t make everything about how hard it can be. Show how using a Wheelchair while not ideal can open up so many opportunities. Show them actually being able to go on family vacations and amusement parks because they have a wheelchair. Show how important it is to have ramps and accommodations for similar things so people can participate and so people can actually go places they want. Always show how hard people with disabilities and such work. Show them trying to get treatment and trying new treatments show how it isn’t as simple as getting a knee brace or two.

And finally coming to one that absolutely fascinates me, DID or Dissociative Identity Disorder formerly known as multiple personality disorder. But don’t do this one completely uneducated, it is already a very stigmatized disorder. Show how Alters communicate. Show how they all work together and that they were made so the body and mind could survive. Make full characters just put them in one body. Show the confusion once they find out, show them slowly realizing and learning signs and what happened to them. Show each of the Alters having different friends and maybe understanding and knowing the family different. Show the different reasons and setups systems can have. Show system responsibility and each Alter working on themselves and to make a life for the system. Show the roles Alters will take. Show the horrible process of fragmenting and what things can cause it but also show healing and people supporting and accepting systems.

Overall showing good parts of all the struggles people can have but not ignoring how hard they can be or glorifying them to people who don’t understand. Showing misconceptions and how support can affect these disorders. And most important in my mind, giving hope and a future to look forward to for the people with these disorders.

#batman #chronic illness #mental health #batfam headcanons #batboys #bat bois #batfam

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

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Functional Dysfunction - Rheese - Chapter 1

written by @anotheronechicagobog

A/N: This is a new series I’ve been trying to work on and I’m so happy that I’m finally done the first chapter! It’s IMPORTANT to note that this the fic I took a survey for a while back so; Sarah Reese has a double specialty of ED and Neuro. Also, it’s a bit AU so be prepared for that.

Warnings: swearing, vomit, unplanned pregnancy, talk of abortion

The waiting room was a decent size, but she still felt small. Surrounded by medical diagrams and leather couches, and pregnant women, and pregnant women with children. She felt completely out of depth and she was finding it hard to breathe. Her tunnel vision was only broken when the nurse called her name. The older woman smiled at her obvious nerves and Sarah was instantly relieved, not because of the woman’s assuring demeanour, but because she knew that if she had gone to a doctor at MED instead of Planned Parenthood, she would have instead been met with shock, judgement, and awaiting a comment from Doris.

“Dr. Singh will be with you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

So Sarah laid back on the examination table in the flimsy blue paper gown with her unmentionables in the breeze, because of course, Sarah found herself in a situation where she’d need a transvaginal ultrasound instead of a pap smear. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to calm herself down.

“Ms. Reese?”

“Hi.”

“Hello, I’m Dr. Singh. You believe you’re pregnant?”

“Yes, I took two home tests, I’ve been nauseous but only between two and four in the afternoon and one and four in the morning, I missed my period, I’ve been fatigued, and my breasts have been sore. And it’s... Uh, it’s Dr. Reese, actually.”

“Okay, then. Are you in your residency?”

“Halfway through my second year.”

“So you know how this works then.”

“Yes.”

“Did you bring any support? We have counsellors and resources you can use. Your mental and emotional wellbeing is just as important as your physical health.”

“I’m fine. I just want to get the pregnancy confirmed and then book an abortion. I’m in my second year of residency, the father was a one night stand, and my main source of income comes from my mother who would not approve of me having a baby out of wedlock.”

“I completely understand. Med school was hard enough for me without pregnancy and then a baby. We’re still going to have a counsellor talk to you about it beforehand, make sure that you’re making the decision for you and not for anyone else.”

“Alright, I guess.”

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sarah was right, she was pregnant. She wasn’t surprised and it didn’t change how she felt. So when she walked into her next shift she didn’t expect a concerned Maggie to approach her. “Hey Sarah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Maggie, why? Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

“You’re pale, you haven’t been eating much lately, and you’ve been more tired lately. What’s going on Reese, are you sick? You can talk to Goodwin and she’ll give you time off.”

“I’m grateful that you’re worried about me Maggie, but I’m not sick or anything, I promise. It’s just stress.” Sarah tried and failed to tell herself that she wasn’t technically lying, but pushed that thought to the back of her mind and took in Maggie’s disbelieving demeanour.

“If you’re sure...”

“I am.” Maggie gave her a look that clearly said ‘I don’t think you’re telling the truth but your lie is plausible so I’m letting it go for now’ as she exited the doctor’s lounge, leaving Sarah alone. She took a deep breath as she put her stuff in her locker before grabbing a clean pair of scrubs. After she’d changed into them she looked into the full mirror of the dressing room, staring herself down. She willed against herself not to do it and lost. She turned to the side and placed her hands over her abdomen. She knew that the fetus inside of her was tiny, the size of a sesame seed, but... She didn’t know what she was doing, truthfully. So she shook her head and squared her shoulders before tying her hair back and walking up to the nurses’ station. “What have you got for me, Maggie?”

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Andrew Pierson was seventeen and optimistic, something that both she and Rhodes admired. It made their daily rounds and checkups much easier. On most days they both went at the same time so that both departments were able to get first-hand results and to prevent miscommunication. The only problem was that they were always at 3:30 pm, smack dab in the one-hour afternoon window of Sarah’s ‘morning’ sickness. She did her best to quell it in advance; ginger tea, fresh air, mindful of what she’d had for lunch, and she was always drinking water. Sometimes though, like today, morning sickness couldn’t be quelled or repressed. She and Rhodes were discussing Andrew’s latest brain scan and what his injury meant for a valve replacement, when it reared its ugly head like never before. The bile was rising up her throat, fast and hot. She stopped talking in the middle of her sentence, drawing attention from her colleague and her patient. She didn’t register dropping her tablet. She darted into the adjoining bathroom and emptied the little liquid she had in her stomach. Even after it was all out she had to sit there dry-heaving. The burning discomfort in her throat didn’t bother her like it used to, and the painful twisting in her stomach annoyed her more than anything else at this point. When the hellish nausea finally passed she was able to register that she wasn’t alone. Rhodes stood behind her, holding her hair back for her. She turned to look at him and he clearly felt unbelievably awkward, like her, but she did see worry clearly on display behind his eyes. “What’s going on, Reese? You’ve been sick all week.” She hastily got on her feet, only for Rhodes to have to steady her when her balance wavered and mind spun from doing it too fast. After she was okay enough that Rhodes could let go, she warily made her way to the sink to rinse her mouth, only to find that there was some vomit on the edges of her lips and chin, only furthering her embarrassment as Rhodes tried to make eye contact in the mirror.

“It’s nothing-”

“Okay, stop. This is not nothing, you don’t think I’ve noticed how pale and nauseous you get every day? I may have my head wrapped around for too much but I’m not an idiot. Not to mention, you literally just dropped our patient’s brain scans to vomit. You are not fine, actually, you know what? Let’s just go down to the ED, get you checked out-”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Reese, these are continual symptoms, they could be the sign of-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“... Oh.” Sarah bit out harshly, turned the water off, and left the bathroom, leaving Rhodes standing by the toilet, as she blinked back tears. The look in his eyes, the acknowledgement, the pity. She picked up her, thankfully undamaged tablet, as a demure Dr. Rhodes came to stand beside her again. “I’m very sorry Mr. Pierson, I think I ate some bad sushi yesterday. Let’s just finish our appointment and then we can get you started on your new preparation plan so that you’re ready for surgery, okay?”

“Sounds good, and I hope you feel better soon, doc.”

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Dr. Rhodes had spent the remainder of Andrew’s appointment standing beside her clearly shocked and somewhat muted. When they both left though, he steered her into the closest conference room he could find. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, now if you’ll excuse me I have other patients that need my care-”

“What about you? Who’s caring for you? You’ve been really sick, and although pregnancy explains it, it doesn’t change the fact that you have concerning symptoms or that Maggie is one bathroom trip away from admitting you into the hospital herself. Because I haven’t heard anything about you in any of the gossip I’m going to assume that you haven’t told many, if any at all, people here. So is there anyone who knows? Anyone who can help you out? And what about the father? I mean you’re pregnant, you’re going to have a baby. Have you spoken to Goodwin yet? She’ll work with everyone to make sure that you’ve got everything you need-”

“Okay, stop! No one knows and I want to keep it that way. I’m not... I’m getting an abortion. And I just...” Sarah took a deep breath as she blinked her tears away. Not now, not at work, not in front of Dr. Rhodes.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” He stood there awkwardly, his arms hovering around her form, unsure of whether he should embrace her or not. Sarah shrugged his hand away and took a few controlled breaths. “I won’t tell anyone, but, does anybody know? And I don’t mean from work, I mean in general, do you have someone to talk to about this? Or take you to and from the procedure?”

“No but it’s fine, I’ll just call a cab after.”

“What if something goes wrong during the procedure, who are they going to call? You have to list an emergency contact.”

“I’ll be fine, everything will be fine.” Sarah took a steadying breath as she tried to quell her morning sickness, again, and stop her body from shaking. “Are you trying to reassure me? Or yourself?” Sarah honestly didn’t have an answer for that.

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Sarah cursed herself constantly over the fifteen-minute drive it took to get to Molly’s. Not only did she reveal a pretty damning secret to one of the hospital’s top surgeons, but she hadn’t been able to get out of going to the bar with the rest of the ED staff. And since Molly’s was a firefighter bar, owned by a few members of the 51st firehouse, the father of her child was most likely going to be there. She sat in her car, trying not to let the dread fill her as she stared at the ornate door of what was now her least favourite bar, not that she enjoyed drinking enough to have a favourite. She took the seat next to Maggie and tried to join in on the laughter that was being shared amongst her colleagues. But she couldn’t, she felt hot and cold all over, her breathing was tense, her chest was constricted, and her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. The fact that Jimmy Borrelli, the father of the unborn child inside of her that he didn’t even know about, was staring at her with familiar lust-filled eyes, and that Connor Rhodes, currently the only person who knew about her pregnancy, just entered and looked at her with a mix of shock, horror, and concern, did absolutely nothing to help with her stress or her pregnancy symptoms. Rhodes made his way over to the table with a guarded look on his face. “Hey guys, how about I get the next round?”

“You’re not new anymore Rhodes, we know you’re not a complete stuck up ass, you don’t have to keep trying to bribe us.”

“Thanks for your words of kindness, Halstead, but this isn’t bribery, this is me offering beer.”

“... Fair enough, man. I think we’re all up for it.”

“Great, hey Reese, would you mind helping me carry it all over?” The meaningful look Rhodes sent made it clear he was using this as an excuse to talk to her away from their co-workers. “Sure.” She tried to sound chipper as she hopped out of her seat, but her voice was tired and it cracked partway through the word. Rhodes visibly frowned and Sarah could feel the concerned stares from her co-workers. They walked to the counter and nodded at Hermann, ready to wait until he was available. “I know that you’re... ‘Cancelling your subscription’,” he spoke lowly, mindful of all the ears around them and how fast gossip flourished among the groups present, “but you still, you know, have it. Should you be drinking?”

“I’m not. I’ve missed too many get-togethers and because of my, uh ‘binge-watching’. People, Maggie in particular are getting suspicious. And honestly, even though I’m ‘cancelling my subscription’, I can’t bring myself to do anything to harm... You know. I, uh, I don’t even drink, really.”

“Yeah, I know. Is there anything else I can get you, then?” Sarah shook her head even though her stomach had turned on her and was eating itself. The bodily organ betrayed her, making an audible growl that could be heard above the music bursting out of the speaker directly above them and the loud mixture of conversations that made nearly everything inaudible. He raised his eyebrow as she scolded herself internally and tried to ignore the warmth creeping up to her cheeks at his bemused expression. “You sure about that? How about some food? I hear that Mills has taken up working the kitchen here, the food should be good.”

“The food is great! And I’m not just saying that because I own that place.” Sarah jumped at Hermann’s voice, not knowing he’d gotten back to them.

“Would you mind showing me a menu then, Hermann? I won’t turn down free food.” Sarah nodded her head at the man standing next to her with a slight smile on her face, feeling better than she had all day if she was being honest. “Oh, is the good doctor buying again?”

“Yes I am, which reminds me, three pitchers of Coors please, and-”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.”

“And spaghetti and meatballs, please.”

“You got it. Here’s your beer, glasses for everyone, and your food’ll be brought over to you when it’s done.”

“Great.”

“And Reese?”

“Yeah?”

“Give us a good review, will ya? We could use all the help we can get to gain some traction for the kitchen.”

“You got it.”

Sarah eyed the tower of glasses she had in her right hand, concentrating far more than necessary if she was being honest, to make sure that she didn’t drop them. When Sarah set the glasses and full pitcher down she took the opportunity to look around the tables at her colleagues. Everyone had gone back to their conversations, and weren’t regarding her with caution, except for Maggie and Manning. They shared a look with each other, then her. “I’m fine, promise.” They shared another look with each other before discreetly taking her hands into theirs. “We don’t believe you.”

#One Chicago #chicago med #Chicago Fire #Sarah Reese #connor rhodes x sarah reese #connor rhodes #maggie lockwood #Natalie Manning #jimmy borrelli #will halstead

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missluthorwillseeyounow · 5 years ago

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Never To Touch And Never To Keep

Westenray AU (NBC Dracula)

A/N: So, here it is, the Westenray AU where Henry Cavill is Lucy’s beard. Fair warning, I didn’t really watch much of the show, just the Lucy scenes, and not even all of those. Basically, this is a peeled-back modern AU of the whole story, without the Dracula stuff. It’ll follow canon for a little bit, unfortunately *cringe* but I need a happy ending for my gays.

Also, this gets quite dark before it gets better. TW: gaslighting, attempted suicide, poisoning, and manipulation. Like for real, guys, I promise a happy ending, but if any of these trigger you, please don’t read it.

Lucy and Mina have been friends since they were fifteen. Lucy's father is an affluent businessman, and Lucy grows up with her every whim catered to. She’s at the center of everyone’s attention. All heads turn whenever she enters a room, and she accepts the adoration as her due.

She and Mina meet at boarding school, and the bond between the two girls is immediate.

That first year is spent in bare feet and nightgowns, dancing idly to Fleetwood Mac, drunk on youth and the vodka Lucy stole from the headmistress’ office. In the acrid scent of illicit cigarettes being passed from one to the other, and the soft curve of Mina’s lips under Lucy’s fingers whenever she slips the cigarette into Mina’s mouth.

Mina is quiet and earnest, where Lucy is vivacious and impertinent. Mina gently chastises her when she breaks yet another boy’s heart, and Lucy merely laughs.

And when Mina breaks Lucy’s heart and falls in love with Jonathan Harker, Lucy just laughs and laughs, and cruelly breaks another boy’s heart in retaliation.

Between the two of them, Mina is the more logical one, whose head and heart are grounded and centered, while Lucy is a creature of flight and fancy -- the one who flits from one thing to another, the charming social butterfly who lights up any room she walks into and creates a spectacle to hide every insecurity she keeps inside.

Lucy lives with bravado, but retreats behind a glittering mask. Mina, she thinks, is the one who is actually brave, the one who is unafraid to live her life as herself.

At the time of this AU, they’re around 21, and Mina and Jonathan are engaged. They're still quite young, but they've been together for years. The "perfect couple", it was only a matter of time before they got married.

Mina is in med school at this time, when she meets Alexander Grayson.

Grayson is a wealthy businessman, the new owner of the hospital where Mina’s father had practiced before he died. He encounters Mina once, at a benefit for the hospital’s cancer ward. Mina speaks to him in her gentle, forthright way, and Grayson is immediately drawn to her.

The encounter leaves an indelible mark on Grayson, and he decides he has to have her.

He’s no stranger to manipulation, and he comes at the problem on all sides. The key, he knows, is isolation. If she has no one left to turn to, Mina will come to him.

Harker, he thinks, is easy enough. With his uncertain finances, the young man is insecure and doubts his place in Mina’s esteem or at least in her social circles. It’s easy enough to see in the way his teeth grit and his jaw tightens whenever Lucy delightedly plucks on this particular insecurity like a note well-played.

Grayson buys into Harker’s graces through his wealth, offers him a career in which he can succeed. The work keeps Harker rewarded and therefore docile, out of the shadow Mina’s condescending friends, and high on his own sense of self-importance for the first time in his life.

His seduction of Mina, however, requires more thought and subtlety. He applies himself to discovering more about her, the things that interest her and resonate with her.

He finds out about her admiration and respect for a prestigious doctor, Gabriel van Helsing, and he extorts van Helsing into offering his mentorship to Mina. He finds out about her passion for helping children and starts a charity for children in need, and offers her the chance to be more involved in the project.

Through it all, Grayson places himself as the supposed catalyst of her advancement.

And Mina, grounded though she is, is still fallible. Grayson seems to her a kind man, misunderstood by some perhaps because of his brooding disposition, but still -- a good man. And he is attractive, that’s undeniable. Enigmatic, charming in a mysterious way.

Slowly, but surely, Mina is lured in.

Because Grayson presents himself as a pleasant and urbane gentleman, most people rarely suspect him of anything nefarious.

Except for Lucy.

Like recognizes like, and Lucy has used her own charm to get her way enough times to know when people use it for their own machinations.

Grayson knows that Lucy is less susceptible to his manipulations and will be more difficult to eliminate as competition.

However, he learns that his intervention is not required. Someone like Lucy, whose emotions overrule even her own penchant for manipulation, will set her own self on fire. All it takes is a few whispers in Mina’s ear, and Lucy orchestrates her own destruction.

Lucy has been hiding her feelings for years, and she's become adept at it. But Grayson’s arrival has thrown Mina into turmoil and by extension, Lucy is thrown into turmoil as well.

And Lucy, when backed into a corner, always lashes out. She barely hides her resentment for Grayson, alienating herself from Mina, who thinks so highly of him, for the first time in their friendship. Not even her disparaging of Jonathan had lowered her in Mina’s esteem, but this causes the first real point of contention between the two of them.

For the first time, Lucy feels her slipping away, and her reflexive response is to pull closer, fearing the loss of Mina in her life. She holds fast to the bond between her and Mina, and clings to her friend.

And one night -- an ordinary night that finds Lucy stretched out on Mina’s bed as usual, their faces inches apart as they seek each other under Mina’s covers like they always do -- Lucy, grateful that no matter what contention they have about one man, they still find each other, becomes brave enough, desperate enough to close that familiar distance between them and press her lips to Mina’s.

"We could be so much more.... I've always loved you, Mina."

"Has our whole friendship been a pretense?!?"

Grayson’s insidious whispers flare in Mina’s mind, and every moment of their friendship is called into question. Every embrace, every sweet word, and every barb thrown at Jonathan viewed in the light of this new and terrifying revelation.

"You need to leave."

And leave Lucy does, feeling small and worthless and hollow, as if a crater has opened up in the middle of her chest. This is not a feeling she knows -- not this shame and this hurt and this dejection.

She’s suffered for Mina before, the heartache of seeing the woman she loves in love with another. But this.... it feels as if all the love she’d kept in her heart has been spit back at her in acid.

It rankles at her skin, and claws at her pride, and so Lucy does what she knows best. She claws back.

Harker is almost laughably easy, a pawn Lucy moves with disturbing ease -- she almost feels sorry for Mina that she loved a man whose loyalty can break with a pair of tear-filled eyes and a silk robe. Almost.

When Mina catches them together, as planned, Lucy catches Mina's eye with a level look over Jonathan's shoulder. She pushes Jonathan off, his erection twitching unsatisfied between them. Lucy rises to her feet, slipping on her silk robe -- never taking her eyes off Mina -- then brushes past her without another word.

And Mina... Mina knows Lucy. She knows how cruel she can be, and has long accepted it as a part of her, but never has that cruelty been directed at her.

This, more than anything, seals it all in Mina’s mind.

The two most important people in her life have betrayed her, and it feels as if the very foundations of the life she’s known until now have been shaken.

The only person she can confide in, who listens to her and comforts her with a solemn touch of a hand, is Grayson.

And Grayson thinks, now that he has her, he means to keep her.

He makes her happy, makes her smile and laugh, builds her back up when her life is at its lowest. When she cries at her losses, he embraces her, and bids her forget about them.

A year later, Mina discovers she’s pregnant, and her Alexander is overjoyed. It’s a difficult pregnancy and keeps her weak and bed-ridden for most of it. Through it all, Alexander is the one person she can depend on.

It’s an even more difficult birth, but Mina immediately falls in love with her baby. But her pregnancy took its toll on her body, and she’s still having a hard time bouncing back. Her energy flags more and more, and at first, she attributes it to the enormous stress of juggling her studies and a new baby. She's just stressed, Alexander says, maybe they should go for a vacation.

A vacation smack in the middle of her training?? It’s unthinkable at first, but as Mina finds herself more and more fatigued, she relents. Perhaps it will do her good.

During the vacation, without the stress of med school and all the worries at home, Mina finally has some time to think about her old life before this whirlwind romance she’s found herself in. As much as she loves Alexander and their baby, she knows there are some things that were left unresolved, and she’s been covering them up long enough.

When they return from the vacation, Mina begins to write letters:

Dear Lucy,

You cannot imagine how much I long to see you again. Today will make it a year, nine months and fifteen days since we last saw each other. I can't believe it's been that long. Remember when we had that fight in chemistry class and you didn't speak to me for three days? Before our separation, that was the longest we'd ever been apart. I miss those days.

Every letter I have sent to you has returned unread and unopened. I know you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, and after the way I treated you, I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again. But still, it doesn't erase the yearning to see your face again.

I miss the nights we would sleep in each other's beds, talking until midnight. Your face -- your dear, loving eyes and your beloved smile -- would be the last thing I saw before falling asleep, and the first thing to wake me in the morning. I never knew what a blessing that was, until I was deprived of such a gift.

Too much has happened. We both hurt each other, I know. You hurt me -- yes, it still hurts -- but I know, I hurt you first. I realize now that what you did was born out of anger and deep pain, because of what I did.

You were never anything but loving toward me. My sweetest friend who always stood by me, always lifted me up, and gave me whatever happiness you could. With others you were always so cold, so cruel, that I could hardly believe you were the same person, because with me, you were so soft, and you took such great care to be gentle.

And I cast you aside. I treated you as if your love as something to be ashamed of, when really, I did not deserve any of it. You betrayed me out of pain, but I betrayed you without provocation. And I am so sorry. God, if you could only know how much I regret everything I said that night...

My infant daughter is sleeping beside me as I write this. My daughter, Lucy. Can you believe it?

She is so beautiful. She has a shock of jet-black hair that is resistant to combing (I can already tell we will have problems with that), and such mesmerizing grey eyes, and the cheekiest smile. She reminds me of you, but that might be because I love her so much.

I've named her Lucy Alexandra Grayson. After Alexander, and after you. Her father likes to call her Alexandra. I'm afraid he doesn't like your name, my dear, but he can't stop me. I've taken to calling her Lucky, as I confess, there has only ever been one Lucy for me, and always will be.

And anyway, Alexander is far too happy, spending time with the baby. He's so proud of her, and it makes me happy to see Alexander happy. He spends all day with us, and is devoted to me and my happiness. He tells me every day that Lucky and I are everything to him.

Oh, Lucy dear, if you could only know the joy I feel at this moment. I wish you were here so i could share this with you. I so wish that you could see Lucky. If you did, you would love her, I know. She is perfection. I can hardly believe that she came from me. That I made something so beautiful and precious.

Oh, Lucy, today my joy knows no bounds, save for one. I feel as if you should be here. Your presence, as warm and sorely missed as it is, would complete my happiness.

Love, Mina.

Mina feels better during the vacation, but when they get back home, she becomes worse. Fatigue sets in quickly, and she gets daily headaches so bad that she has to stay home. She finally admits that her body is having a hard time bouncing back and handling the stress of it all, and after spending several sleepless weeks thinking about it, Mina finally agrees when Alexander suggests she take a break from medical school. This way, she can stay home and rest. Her body can recuperate, and she’ll have more time with Lucky.

What she doesn’t know is that her symptoms are not part of an illness. Grayson has been slowly introducing medication into her system. Nothing life-threatening, or anything that would raise alarms. He’s much too careful for that. But enough that its effects keep her weak and drained of energy

After they returned from their vacation and Mina had expressed her desire to reconcile with Lucy, Grayson had decided that it wasn’t safe yet to stop drugging her, and so the small doses of the medication resumed.

As for the letters, Lucy never receives any of them. Grayson makes sure of it. He even takes precautions to make sure that every email, every text is blocked. Now that Lucy has excised herself out of Mina’s life, he’ll make sure she remains that way.

As for Lucy herself, in the passing years since their separation, she’s made quite a few changes.

Lucy has always been... aware of the effect she has on people. She knows she appears as a charming coquette, and as she makes her own way in the world, she uses that to her advantage. In fact, she delights in it.

She rarely lets anyone see how clever she is until it's too late, and by then, she's already destroying their lives or their reputations. It makes people underestimate her abilities, and she gets to still play in her glittering little world.

Lucy meets Nick at a friend’s bachelorette party.

When they first meet, he’s a stripper hired for the night.

It would have been easy to dismiss him then, but Lucy, clever as she is, sees his potential and cleans him up.

She had been planning on using Nick’s past as a stripper and her role as his benefactor to hold over him as blackmail if needed, but she soon realizes that he genuinely does not give a fuck about that.

“What are you getting out of this, then?”

“Aside from the suits and the Maserati? Honestly, I’m just along for the ride. This beats dancing Friday nights at Hunk-O-Rama. Besides, you’re cute.”

Lucy laughs derisively. “You’re not my type.”

Nick throws his head back and laughs even louder. “I have a feeling you don’t hear this a lot, but you’re not my type either.”

Aside from Mina, it’s easily the closest relationship Lucy has ever had. Nick is one of the few people perceptive enough to really see her, and surprisingly enough, he’s not enamored by her. Which works well enough for both of them.

Nick sees Lucy for the mess that she is. When they’re not in public, he treats her like an annoying, reckless little sister, and it amuses him to watch her wreak havoc and play her little games. When she doesn’t annoy the crap out of him.

Nick, however, knows very little about Mina.

All he knows is that she’s a sore subject. He's deduced by now that Lucy was in love with her, but beyond that, he lets Lucy keep her secrets.

As for Mina, over the years, Grayson’s manipulations become more and more overt, and it becomes harder and harder for her to leave.

As Lucky grows up, Alexander showers her with affection and spoils her, making the little girl devoted to him. “Daddy’s little girl” he calls her.

"Mummy, why are you and Daddy fighting?"

"Daddy wasn't being nice."

“But Mummy, Daddy's the nicest! He loves us. He says so all the time."

Mina tries to leave once, when Lucky is 7 years old. She tries to take Lucky with her, but her daughter runs to Grayson and clings to him. “No! I want to stay with Daddy!”

And Grayson levels Mina a look, daring her to separate her child from her father, or leave her behind.

From then on, Grayson keeps Lucky close. She hears him whispering things into the child’s ear (”Mummy’s sick. She’s not well.”) and it reminds her so forcibly of the things he used to whisper in her ear.

That’s when she knows. She has to leave, for her daughter’s sake.

She takes some of the pills she keeps in the cupboard, carefully calculates enough to make her sick but not kill herself. She only needs enough to be taken to the ER, and put in a temporary psych hold.

It's dangerous, her plan. She could actually kill herself, and if she's on psych hold, Lucky will be left alone with Alexander, and though she's sure Alexander won't hurt her, because Lucky is his bargaining chip to get Mina back, she can’t be sure of what he’ll be putting into her daughter’s head.

Her attempt fails when Grayson brings in a doctor friend of his to help her instead of taking her to the hospital

He performs gastric lavage on her at home to flush the drugs from her stomach. As Mina lies on her bed, lethargic with the tube in her nose, Alexander grips her wrist and murmurs under his breath "You are everything to me. I won’t let you go."

As Mina recovers, she finds herself locked in her room. She asks in vain for Lucky, but Alexander’s only reply is that “She shouldn’t have to see her mother like this.”

Days pass, and the sense of urgency and panic rises, unstoppable, in Mina’s throat like bile. She knows she has no choice. When she’s strong enough, she pushes herself out of bed, locks the door to buy herself time, and breaks one of the windows. She picks up one of the shards, and thinking of her beautiful little girl, Mina cuts through the flesh of her wrists.

It takes a while before Grayson and the doctor realize what she’s done, and she loses enough blood that the doctor decides she needs to go to the hospital or she will going to die.

Once she's at the hospital, she asks a kind nurse to contact Lucy, but she’s told that Lucy’s number is unlisted. The nurse tries the business number, but gets the usual run-around.

And so, as a last resort, Mina gives the nurse the address to Lucy’s family home, hoping and praying that someone there -- Lucy’s father or her mother -- will see her name and remember it. Then she gives the nurse a bundle of letters. The ones that were returned unopened, and the ones she wrote but didn't send because she knew by now Lucy wouldn't read them.

The nurse kindly agrees, and Mina wishes she could tell her everything, that it could help her and her daughter. But Alexander is too influential, and he has Lucky with him, and Mina will not risk her daughter.

The letters are forwarded to Lucy. Nick hands them to her over the breakfast table. But when Lucy hears who they’re from, she goes silent and refuses to open them.

"Do what you want with them. Take them, or they'll end up in the fire. I won't read them."

Nick reads them. The next day, he approaches Lucy again, letters in hand. "The letters, that Mina wrote you..."

Lucy doesn't even look up from her cup of coffee. Her jaw twitches. "I don't want to hear it."

The letters drop onto the table next to her plate. "I think she may need your help. I think she's being abused."

Lucy applies herself to recovering Mina and Lucky, as well as sinking Alexander Grayson, like Nick has never seen her apply herself to anything before.

Nick loses track of how many people Lucy bribes, threatens or blackmails to get Grayson arrested and the charges to stick, or how long it takes for her to get Grayson’s properties seized and his assets frozen.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s seen Grayson’s face in the news, getting condemned and absolutely dragged by every news outlet Lucy and her family have access to.

Nick also has no idea know how she managed to get a decent-sized portion of Grayson’s fortune back for Mina and Lucky -- and honestly, given Lucy’s pervasive, systematic destruction of everything Alexander Grayson holds dear, he’s kind of afraid to ask.

As Lucy’s “business face”, Nick has to field everyone from the press to the lawyers. Fortunately for them, he’s a competent son of a bitch, and he tells Lucy the one time she’d asked "Don't worry about it, kid. Your family is my family."

Lucy doesn't quite know what to respond to -- the declaration that Nick considers her family, or that he thinks Mina is her family. "They're not my family."

"Sure, whatever you say, babe." Nick just laughs and walks away. "Oh, and I better get a raise after this."

Nick, however, does suspect that Lucy’s almost manic focus on sinking Grayson to the mud is at least partly so that she doesn’t have to deal with Mina being back. The fact that she had stashed Mina and Lucky in one of her summer homes, hidden away from her, is evidence enough of that.

Lucy says it’s to keep them out of the public eye, and while that’s true enough, there is also some truth to Nick’s theory.

Ruining Grayson is easy. Revenge is easier and altogether more satisfying that hashing out old feelings that never really died -- just got shoved to the back of her mind, and only came up whenever Lucy was with another woman and, instead of red hair, she'd see Mina's black curls; or when she said the wrong name in the throes of an orgasm.

And looking across the courtroom at Grayson with a triumphant smile on her face is infinitely easier than looking Mina in the eye.

Lucy puts off visiting the summer house as long as she can. But she has to eventually, to let Mina know how the trials went

For once, Lucy, the social butterfly who can charm birds off trees, has no idea what to say. Mina is quiet too. She wants to tease Lucy for her awkwardness, and if it had been 8 years ago and the Lucy of old, she would have.

Now all she can really do is stare at Lucy and drink her in, cataloging every feature that has changed or remained the same

In the end, Lucky saves them. The little girl looks up at Lucy with a sweet smile "Hi! You're Lucy!"

Lucy can only stare at her for a second before shaking herself with a nod. "I am."

"We have the same name! But my Mummy calls me Lucky."

Lucy finally meets Mina's eye. "So I've heard."

Lucky quickly warms to Lucy, and Lucy, who has never spent more than an hour with any person younger than herself, finds herself feeling strangely attached to the child.

Lucky is what brings Lucy and Mina together.

In truth, they're each so desperate to know the other again, to somehow find their way back to how things were before that night. They've both changed so much, but they both want to see how much has remained the same, how much they can still salvage and patch together.

It's too much to say, but too much to leave unsaid, so they focus the affection they can't give the other on Lucky

Lucy and Mina are never quite alone together at first. Lucky is usually a buffer between them

Then one day, Lucy brings Lucky a whole new wardrobe of dresses and Lucky tries them on for her and Mina one at a time. As Lucky flounces off to change into another sparkly tulle dress, Mina chuckles, “Remember that time we got drunk and we snuck into the the props room in school and tried on all of the costumes for ‘Hamlet’?”

Lucy smiles. "I remember having to drag you there because you were too scared of getting caught.”

"And I remember you trying on every gaudy thing you could find. Just like Lucky.” Mina laughs, her eyes softening. “I swear, sometimes I think she's your child."

Lucy looks away for a second, but Mina murmurs "She reminded me so much of you all those years."

Lucy hides the tremor in her voice behind an arrogant smirk. "She's amazing then."

Mina looks at her, eyes clear and bright. "She is."

Nick joins them some weekends, and Lucky adores him almost as much as Lucy. On one particular visit, he comes bearing some “sensitive information” for Lucy.

When Mina had first been rescued, she had asked Nick if he had any information on Jonathan Harker. When he reported this to Lucy, she had tasked Nick to find him. Not out of sentimentality for the man, she couldn't care less about Harker. But for Mina...

Nick finds Lucy and Mina in the sunroom, talking quietly. Mina is reaching over to brush a non-existent stray hair out of Lucy's face, and Lucy is smiling in a way Nick has never seen before. Gentle, almost tender.

And this is the woman who has left a trail of broken hearts a mile long behind her.

Nick almost doesn't interrupt them -- but then Mina leans forward, bringing her that much closer to Lucy... And the smile disappears on Lucy's face like water evaporating. She pulls away abruptly, her eyes sliding away from Mina's to find Nick in the doorway.

He holds up the folder for her to see. Lucy rises and leads him to her office, where they won't be overheard. When Nick hands her folder, she scans it silently, her jaw tight. The file contains all of Harker's information, including how to contact him.

"He's unmarried and working as a writer for a newspaper."

Lucy closes the folder and hands it to Nick, her eyes stony. "Give it to her."

Nick blinks and pauses. "Are you su--"

Lucy silences him with a sharp look that berates him for daring to question her. "Give it to her."

Nick's lips narrow. "Yes, ma'am."

Lucy cringes inwardly. She knows she was a little bit too blunt with Nick, but honestly she's in no mood to be nice. "Oh, and have my team prepare the jet."

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here."

Lucy flies off to see a frequent bedfellow in Paris for a week. She heads to Italy for another the next week. By the time she gets back, she’s informed her that Mina and Lucky are gone. Nick tells her that he gave Mina the file on Jonathan and she left the next day.

Lucy arrives home to an empty summer house, and finds that she misses Mina and Lucky too much. She misses Lucky's mischievous giggles and Mina's light laughter. She misses having tea with Mina in the sunroom, and sitting in the library while Lucky reads her old children's books to her.

She misses the days spent on the lake, Lucky swinging into the water from the old rope on the tree, and somehow managing to coax Lucy along with her, while Mina, quietly radiant in her white linen dress, sips tea and watches them from the dock. She used to laugh whenever Lucy and Lucky emerged dripping wet from the lake, hair stringy and waterlogged, dresses stuck uncomfortably to their skin, but having the time of their lives.

Everyday there just reminds her more of what she doesn't have anymore. So she goes back to her home in the city. It's not much better there, but at least there aren't any reminders of Mina or Lucky there

Mina calls her several times, but Lucy ignores each call.

When they were younger, she used to listen to Mina talk about her relationship with Harker, not a secret between them, except one. And Lucy was just content to listen because it kept her in Mina's life.

And while she doesn't want to lose Mina again, she thinks she's grown up enough to set limits on what she can or will take. And she doesn't think she can take hearing about Mina's new life with Jonathan. How she's rebuilding her old life with him, and shaping her new one around it.

She does allow herself some bitterness over the thought of how perfect that new little family would be. Mina and her old love, Jonathan, a perfect new father for Lucky, to replace the twisted one she got.

It's perfect for them, she thinks. Absolutely fucking meant to be. A happy ending after the hell Mina went through. She deserves that, Lucy thinks as she downs yet another glass of wine

And Lucy bets that within the next six months, she'll receive a call from Mina asking her to be her bridesmaid. A year later, Lucky will be getting a new brother or sister.

On nights like these, when Lucy drowns herself in enough wine to numb the crater in chest, Nick has to scoop her up and take her home himself.

On one such night, she doesn't come home to an empty house. Mina's waiting for her there. She follows Nick to Lucy's room then gives him a small smile. "I'll take it from here."

Lucy is half passed out, but Mina manages to get her to drink some water and helps her change out of her clothes. Then she tucks Lucy under her covers and slips in with her.

Lucy's eyes open blearily, "Aren't you going back home to Jonathan and Lucky?"

Mina smiles at her. "I left Lucky with my cousin, and I'm sure Jonathan can manage without me."

Lucy mutters something into her pillow.

"What was that?"

"He doesn't deserve you."

Mina brushes her hair back "Then who does?"

"No one."

"You think too highly of me."

"Rightly so."

"Even after..... even after the way I treated you that night?"

"That night wasn't your fault," Lucy mumbles sleepily, voice slurred from the wine. In vino veritas. "It was my fault. It was me -- my feelings. I was responsible for them, not you. I was doing so well before that, and you, you my darling brilliant Mina, are so stupid when it comes to love. You would never have known anything if I hadn't opened my stupid mouth - or kissed you with it."

Mina's eyes search hers in the dim light. "Would you never have told me? Would you have kept it a secret from me forever?"

Lucy nods, making herself slightly dizzy. Her eyes close and she murmurs. "If I could go back, I would never have kissed you."

Mina doesn't speak for a while. She just listens to the sound of Lucy's breathing even out to sleep. She just stares at Lucy. "It's funny. I often think about things I regretted about that night. I regretted the way I acted toward you, the things I said.... But that kiss was the one thing I never regretted."

When they were at the summer house, there were several moments when Mina almost got carried away and kissed her, her eyes flicking down to Lucy's lips, lush and candy-pink. She's spent nights reliving that kiss over the years, trying to recall details of it, but it's been blurred by time and guilt and confusion.

She wonders how she never knew how Lucy felt. She wonders if Alexander hadn't been manipulating her, if she would have said the things she did. If she hadn't been so in love with Jonathan then, would she have kissed Lucy back?

She looks at Lucy now and wonders if she would taste the same.

But every time Mina lets any hint of these thoughts show on her face, Lucy looks away.

Lucy -- who, even after all these years and all this turmoil, has opened her heart and home to her and her daughter -- shows all the fear of a trapped animal whenever Mina looks at her with want in her eyes, and closes herself off.

Mina knows she's damaged that beyond repair. Lucy -- dear Lucy who never kept a secret from her but this one -- showed one moment of vulnerability and Mina had all but slapped her in the face

And she still knows Lucy well. Lucy always lashes out from hurt at first, but after, she hides in dark corners where no one can see, like a heart-hurt little kitten seeking the comfort and safety of being unseen.

So she doesn't bring it up in the morning, when Lucy pads softly into the kitchen where Mina is making her breakfast and the hangover remedy she came up with in college.

Lucy looks up at her gratefully, if a little confused. Her eyes are a little cloudy, and her perfect hair tousled just enough for Mina to want to run her hands through the golden mess.

She knows she can. This is Lucy, and since they were teenagers, touch has been a language between them. Mina's heart twinges, and she wonders if this is how Lucy felt all those years ago, wanting to touch her as she always does, but this time with a lover's hand, each nerve ending coming alive with the stark difference.

Lucy watches her with a question on her lips that Mina can almost see, even as she hesitates, her mouth fearful and unwilling to open.

Mina reassures her with a gentle smile as she places a plate of Lucy's favorite scrambled eggs in front of her. She leans forward and kisses the top of her head. They don't have to talk about it now.

Hope is a cruel thing to entertain, she knows from years living with Alexander. And she knows that sometimes the best defense from it is to reject it.

And right now, she knows they're both brimming with it. The rigidly suppressed hope in Lucy's eyes, marshaled by years of emotions never expressed, and the answering hope in Mina that prays she still feels the same way

This is not a conversation that can be had while Lucy is hungover and barely awake. Lucy waited for her for years before that kiss, then the duty of waiting fell to Mina. She thinks she can wait a little bit longer for Lucy.

After breakfast, when her wits are more collected, Lucy sits with her feet curled up on the wicker love seat, and Mina sits opposite her. Lucy's no longer drunk, but she nurses a cup of tea in both hands, gripping the porcelain as if her life depends on it

"Why are you here, Mina? Shouldn't you be at home with Jonathan and Lucky?"

Mina regards her with a tranquil look. "I told you, Lucky is at my cousin's place. And Jonathan... I don't know where Jonathan is."

At that, Lucy looks up. "What do you mean?"

Mina shrugs. "I haven't seen him since the day I went to visit him."

"Haven't you moved in with him by now?"

Mina casts her an exasperated look. "I've been living with my cousin for the past few weeks. You would know that if you answered any of my phone calls."

Lucy is quiet, and Mina ducks her head so she can meet Lucy's eye. "Did you think I moved in with Jonathan?"

Lucy looks up at her, and there's something almost accusatory in her green eyes. "You went back to him."

Mina gives her a level look. "Of course I went back to him. I loved him for years, Lucy. I owed it to Jonathan to see him again. We were together since we were teenagers! We were engaged to be married, before Alexander. I owed it to myself."

Lucy has turned away again, not wanting to meet her eye, and Mina wants to shake her. "..... But Lucy, above all that, I owed it to you."

“Me?? You went back to your old lover for me?" Lucy scoffs, tears forming in her crystal eyes. Her voice breaks, but Lucy is always Lucy, and her words bite back, even if she's hurt -- especially when she's hurt.

"Forgive my skepticism, Mina, but I fail to understand how returning to the man you loved first, the man who could have given you everything I never could -- the first man you chose over me -- could possibly be about me."

"Because!" MIna can feel her voice rising out of desperation and frustration and anger and love at this woman who owns her heart now. "Because you deserve the truth.... Because you deserve to look me in the eye and know beyond a doubt that I'm telling the truth when I say I choose you. Not Jonathan. Not Alexander. You."

Lucy's mouth drops open, and Mina feels a sense of satisfaction that she has managed to render Lucy Westenra, of all people, speechless.

"I went to see Jonathan, I let him hold me in his arms, and I knew that what I feel for him, even what I felt for him then is not even half of what I feel for you. After all these years. After everything we've all been through -- you are the one I choose.... It might not mean anything at all to you now, after what I did to you, but I know now without a single doubt that it's the truth. And so do you. I choose you, Lucy."

Lucy just stares at Mina, her eyes wide. Her hands are shaking so much, Mina fears the tea in her cup will spill. She crosses the room and kneels down in front of her chair. She takes the cup carefully from Lucy’s hands and sets it down.

Lucy has looked away from her again, like she does now whenever Mina tells her the truth, with her eyes or her words. Mina almost sighs, because she was right. She has damaged this beyond repair.

But then, Lucy's trembling fingers catch her own in a fearful, hopeful grip. "Please tell me it's real. Tell me you're telling the truth."

“Oh, Lucy...” Mina reaches up and her fingers curling around the nape of Lucy's neck. She brings their foreheads together, until she can practically taste the salt of Lucy's tears. "I love you. I'm so in love with you."

Finally she kisses her, the taste of Lucy touching her lips, unadulterated by blurry memory and guilt. This time, it's Lucy who hesitates, who is still beneath Mina's mouth, and Mina knows the terror of Lucy that night, whispers the same prayers Lucy did into the kiss of so many years ago.

Then Lucy's mouth parts beneath her with a soft sobbing moan, and bliss floods Mina's whole body. She never knew bliss tasted like Lucy and her tears. She laughs into the kiss, her own tears slipping from her closed eyes to Lucy's waiting lips.

Lucy's hands, greedy and fearful, grip onto her dress and haul her up into the chair above her. The love seat is small and cramped, but Mina doesn't care, not when Lucy holds her like she's never ever going to let go, like she's afraid Mina will change her mind.

She imagines that it will take some time, for Lucy to truly believe that she's here to stay. So Mina holds her gently and firmly, like a cherished thing, pushes her down into the soft cushion of the chair just so Lucy can feel her weight, the permanence of her and her choice.

Mina will wait and she'll show her. She will show Lucy every single day of the rest of their lives.

#westenray #lucy westenra #mina murray #katie mcgrath #jessica de gouw #dracula #westenray au #i am tired and aware that this is a mess #ANOTHER night without sleep w00t w00t #my writing #tw: abuse #tw: suicide #tw: poisoning

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bubbyleh · 4 years ago

Text

A Series of Shockingly Close Calls (ch.1)

oh no I fan fic’d a fan fic. I got thinking about soft monster au Boomer moments and it made my brain go bbbbrrrrr so then this happened. I’m woozy as hell because nobody told me that the antacids they were putting me on would make me not able to absorb my thyroid meds so I’m both very hypo, very potsy (cus hypo makes my p.o.t.s. worse) and in withdrawal so there’s no blood in my brain and I’m wacked out which makes me get suuuuuper purple with my prose so sorry for all the “forthright"s and "moreovers”. I’m just a little creature I cannot help this. Written in one sitting and probably a lot of typos and I’m sorry if I accidenally used ‘he’ for bubs in there somewhere I was having trouble with that. Once again, I’m p deep in withdrawal rn so bear with me. Anyway let me know if this is acceptable to put on ao3 as a gift fic to your fic. (yes I do plan on their being more than one chapter. no I make no promises due to aforementioned medical issues)

crocs here! sorry to put this in the middle of your submission, but i thought it’d get lost at the end. this is amazing! fanfic of a fanfic? i love this so much and i’m going to cherish it forever, thank you!

you can post this to ao3, i would be so happy if you did! i hope you feel better soon, i know health problems can be sucks. and don’t worry if you called bubby “he”, i write them using he/they pronouns (i just default to “they” for simplicity).

also, i hope you don’t mind that i put a read more in! ________

Three months.

Three months into Harold Coomer’s acquaintanceship with his eccentric and eclectic(in both taste and physical composition) companion was the first time the homunculus had begun to feel, as they’d put it, ‘drained’.

Bubby had explained to an enraptured Coomer,on more than one occasion, the nature of their state of reanimation, far different from Coomer’s own. They were a man-made construct of flesh, artfully pieced together from pieces of different corpses, stitched into a singular being and imbued with life by the great and terrible force of the heavens, in the form of lightning.

Coomer said it reminded him of Prometheus, sculpting mankind from clay.

Bubby said it reminded them of a penny dreadful.

They existed in a state between life and death, though not quite undeath, either. Certainly each composite part of them, corpses as they had been, could be considered undead, but Bubby themself was a new creation that came into life for the first time upon the metal slab of their creators laboratory, never having ‘died’ and therefore not being themselves brought back from the dead, but nevertheless composed of reanimated parts.

They were sustained not by blood coursing through veins, but rather electricity, which was honestly a boon for Coomer. He was still fairly young, by vampire standards, anyway, and his self control could be…spotty at times, and it was nice to have a companion that he could sit beside and feel no desire to tear their throat out and drain them of their life juices. They could subsist without food or drink if they needed to, as well, which was also helpful, as it was often not possible for either of them to venture into civilization to obtain rations of any kind.

However, there were downsides to Bubby’s condition, as well, which began to make themselves apparent those three months in.

Bubby’s escape from the lab of their creation was as unplanned as it was unorthodox. The whole thing had apparently been pure chaos from beginning to end, and Bubby didn’t seem to enjoy talking about it very much. Certainly an angry mob was involved, at least some pitchforks and torches, and a massive inferno of less than fully explained origin(‘Fire good,’ Bubby had said with a shrug), the last of which providing a convenient distraction for Bubby to make their escape into the nearby woods, but they hadn’t exactly had ample time to plan or provision their flight. They couldn’t take any of the tools or resources their creator had with them when they fled. They had no idea what they would need, nor any idea of what to expect when they were away from that lab for any extended period of time

Three months after their escape, it began to become apparent.

Coomer noticed long before Bubby said anything, and, in fact, had to more or less force a confession out of them about it.

Bubby just began to…slow, the way one does when they’ve gone too long without proper sleep. They began to stumble more often, to take longer to think of words, and such. The difference was very slight, only so drastic as someone who had woken up an hour or so before they’d have liked to that morning, and generally only became noticeable when Bubby was themself tired, but sleep never seemed to completely chase away that fatigue and Coomer worried.

He especially worried when Bubby practically panicked at Coomer’s slight inquiry into the subject, insisting far too forcefully that nothing was wrong and changing the subject. Coomer was eventually able to wrestle(both metaphorically and literally) an answer from them.

Energy of any kind, is finite, and that included the energy that maintained Bubby’s state of ‘half life’. Without supplementing it, it would eventually run out. Bubby’s creator had a huge contraption of wire and steel that Bubby would be attached to via the bolts on their neck. When lightning struck the lightning rod atop the laboratory roof, it would travel down those wires into the bolts and, by extension, Bubby, ‘recharging’ them, as Bubby put it.

“Why on Earth didn’t you tell me?” Coomer demanded.

“Because I didn’t…Because it’s none of your business!” Bubby snapped. “I don’t go snooping into how you get your ‘fix’! When you disappear into a town for the night, I don’t pry into your sudden improvement in pallor. I don’t ask you about the screams!”

Coomer flinched. It was a low blow and he was immediately inclined to take the bait, but the look in their eyes gave him pause. It was a fearful glint like a trapped animal, lashing out in fear, not anger.

He huffed out a small, unnecessary breath and crossed his arms.

“What is this really about?” he asked, voice calm, but stern. “Why didn’t you…,” his voice wavered, ever so slightly, “Why didn’t you trust me?”

The anger in Bubby’s face drained in an instant, falling instead into a look of pain and remorse.

“No, it’s not like that!” they insisted. “I just…I didn’t…I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t…I didn’t want you to…”

“To what?”

Bubby sighed, deflating. They averted their eyes, not meeting Coomer’s gaze.

“I didn’t want you to leave me behind,” they admitted at last, voice barely above a whisper. “There’s never been anything else like me before. I don’t know exactly how I work or how to keep myself working. I was afraid if you realized that, if you thought I couldn’t take care of myself, you’d…decide I was too much trouble.”

Coomer burst out laughing.

Any meekness to Bubby’s expression vanished in an instant and their bolts sparked with indignation.

“Why is it every time I bare my soul to you you laugh?!” they spat.

Coomer wiped a tear from his eye.

“Forgive me, Bubby,” he said. “It just strikes me as so completely preposterous I can’t help but laugh!”

“That I don’t even know how I can exist?” Bubby snarled. “That I don’t have any idea how this…hodge podge of flesh I call a body can even hold itself together? That I could just stop working one day and have no idea why? You find that ‘preposterous’?” they again cast their eyes to the ground, a mixture of shame and rage on their face.

Coomer’s expression softened and he stepped towards Bubby to lay a hand gently on their cheek and guide their face up to meet his gaze.

“That you could think there was anything that would make me want to not be with you,” he said.

Bubby’s eyes went wide and his bolts sparked again, but with a softer sort of ‘hum’ of energy, rather than the earlier harsh zapping.

“You are one of a kind, Bubby,” he went on. “I’ve never even heard of something like you. I didn’t think something like you could even exist. It’s fascinating! You’re fascinating.”

Bubby’s mouth opened and closed like they wanted to speak, but couldn’t find any words.

“It’s easy, as an immortal, even one so relatively young as myself, to feel as though the world begins to stagnate.” Coomer continued. “That someday one will reach the point at which existence can yield nothing else but that with which one is already too well acquainted. But you…You’re something entirely new. Something unprecedented. There’s so much to learn from you. About you. I want to… understand you.”

Coomer dropped his hand from Bubby’s face to their shoulder, this time being the one to avert his gaze.

“Moreover, I want to…I want to see you experience this world, as new to you as you are to it,” he said. Had he not been long dead, a flush would have probably risen to his cheek. “There’s so much you haven’t seen, haven’t done. I want you to see them, to do them. And moreso, I want to show them to you, give them to you. The way your eyes light up at things I’ve lived in fear someday would hold for me only monotony and makes me feel as though I could never again find them mundane…I want to see that. I want…I want to never stop seeing it.”

He braved a glance back up at Bubby, who was agape with shock.

“Nothing so trivial as a lack of energy could possibly deter me,” he said, voice resolute. “Even if I have to build a tower of steel and wire myself, there’s nothing that would make me leave you. For as long as…as long as you’ll have me.”

Bubby’s hand clasped onto Coomer’s still resting on their shoulder, holding on like they expected him to disappear if their grip wavered.

“Forever!” they said, instantly, then seemed to panic at their own forthrightness. “I mean, for as…for as long as you’ll have me.”

Their bolts were crackling with electricity now, sending off small, glowing motes and arcs of energy.

Coomer smiled and reached out with his other hand to touch Bubby’s cheek again.

Many years later, when Coomer would become fully educated on the idea of a ‘circuit’ and the ramifications of completing one by placing one’s hands on either side of what was essentially an openly sparking power source, the resulting occurrence would be an interesting and enlightening memory.

As it stood in the moment, the resulting electrocution simply caused him to be rendered briefly unconscious and his hair to not lie flat for a week.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #submission #hlvrai boomer #boomer #monster au #on a dark and dreary night #I ADORE THIS #YOU THOUGHT MORE ABOUT BUBBY'S ELECTRICITY THAN I HAVE

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v8pontiacgirl · 4 years ago

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04July2021

I’m still in shock that issues are likely caused by horrible allergies that are likely caused by mold in my house. Due to memory issues, I decided to make a timeline of the last six years, when this started.

September 2015–moved into the house. I was working full time, going to school full time and experiencing allergy issues, such as a sore throat, headaches, and very dry eyes (to the point that I was no longer able to wear my contacts). I actually kept getting allergic conjunctivitis, so I switched to my glasses full time. I’d been able to wear contacts for about 15 years without issues prior to this.

February 2016–injured my knee and found out I had a discoid lateral meniscus with a tear that was hanging up in my knee joint. It took months to get any kind of relief for my knee because the tear didn’t initially show up on the MRI, and because discoid meniscus issues usually show up earlier in life if they are going to be a problem, I wasn’t taken seriously. During this time, I was having issues working because of pain and inability to walk. Also started having more issues with being harassed at work by coworkers. I began to work less and less until I finally quit in September. I had already finished out school in June. I would have had to transfer to a community college two hours away to continue my degree in the fall, and since my knee was being problematic, I decided to hold off.

October 2016–Had my knee surgery. About a week or two afterwards, I got my first vertigo spell (although I didn’t realize it was vertigo at the time). This would become the first of many instances that I would deal with “flares” that would make functioning very difficult for me.

October 2016-March 2017–Some days were better than others. I went to the doctor and blood work and many tests were done. My thyroid levels fluctuated a little, but ultimately seemed ok eventually. Everything else looked normal, except my white blood cell count was always elevated. I was told I was perfectly healthy. The dizziness? It was POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), a chronic illness that I had been diagnosed with in 2005 that honestly had never given me too many issues in the past, as long as I stayed hydrated and ate salty foods. I was given some common POTS meds to help me retain water, but, as medications typically do not agree with me, I had too many side effects and was unable to take them.

April 2017-August 2017–I’d been feeling better for about a month (since March), and I was anxious to be back in school. Culinary school had caught my eye a few months prior, so I signed up for the spring cohort. I was in the evening cohort, and I was realizing that my allergies were being aggravated by *something*, so my mornings from 7am to noon were spent cleaning, and from noon to about 8pm, were spent at school. I was able to complete two terms of culinary school. There was to be about a little over a month break from the middle of August to the end of September before fall term began. I went to California in August after finishing Summer term for a few days to visit friends. After returning, I started to feel like I was going into another “flare”. Gradually, my health got worse and worse.

September 2017-February 2018–by the end of September, when it was time to go back to culinary school, I was bedridden. The vertigo was so bad that I was unable to do anything except remain horizontal. For about six months again, my health was unbearable and I was unable to function.

March-April 2018–I finally began to feel a little better in March and April (also around the time when I started to get outside to do more garden things), and decided that I would try to go back to culinary school for summer term (the cohorts had changed because of a new director, and so there were classes I could take toward my degree). It’s really interesting that my heath was generally better the more I was able to get out of the house.

June 2018-August 2018—I was doing a lot of outdoor garden things in the afternoons and going to school for several hours every morning. I was even hired to help cater a wedding in August. My health seemed mostly under control, with only minor symptoms.

September 2018-December 2018—The end of September, I began my fourth term of culinary school. I also joined the culinary team, so pretty much all of my time was spent at school, even most of December, when the other students went home for break, I stayed at school trying to perfect my dish for competition. I was fatigued, but my health was mostly stable.

January 2019–After a *very* brief break, I was back in school for one whole day of winter term. I was definitely feeling fatigued because I hadn’t really gotten a break (and probably, in hindsight, because my allergies had really worn me down, too), and I was told by the coach that he was kicking me off the team because he was concerned my health problems would hold the team back, and he wanted to win. My health had not been an issue that he had seen at all, but he just thought it was too much of a risk to keep me. If I wouldn’t have disclosed that I had health problems when I tried out for team, I don’t think this would have happened. Anyway, I was pretty angry, especially after all the time I’d put in. Since the coach was also the director of the school, and there had also been an issue with the instructor quitting and a new instructor having to take over at the end of the last term, I decided that this culinary school really wasn’t worth my time or money any longer, so I quit. Immediately after, I bought the rest of the books that I would have needed for school and began to teach myself techniques with sugar and chocolate. I decided I was going to start focusing more seriously on Spoon Life Bakery, my cottage bakery business that I had started in July 2017.

February 2019-March 2020—I was the most busy I’d been in a while. Garden projects, baking projects, and painting projects took up all my time. From August 2019 to the beginning of March 2020, I was more busy than I wanted to be with my short lived restaurant project. The restaurant actually opened in October, but there was a lot of prep work prior. All of this kept me out of the house for most of the day. I was exhausted, but not symptomatic. Basically, during this time period, I was either outside, or at another location for the majority of the time. During the rainy months (December 2019-March 2020), the basement of the house flooded. It had always been musty and damp down there, but it had never flooded like that.

March-May 2020—I closed the restaurant in March, and began to be at home a lot more often. I started going hard with Spoon Life Bakery again, baking out of my home kitchen. I got back into Jiu Jitsu. I was doing ok, but by May, I started to feel like something wasn’t right again.

May-December 2020—My health “flared” a little during this time. It wasn’t as bad overall as it had been, but some days were better than others. Some days the vertigo made me bedridden. It was unpredictable. In May, I had to quit Jiu Jitsu again because I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t have the stamina to keep doing it.

January-May 2021–I’d had enough descent days that I decided to try to try to go back to Jiu Jitsu, or rather, a self defense class based on Jiu Jitsu. This class ran twice a week through March, and I was able to keep up and not miss a class. The basement flooded again, so we moved the dehumidifier into the storage room where the majority of the water was coming in. After self defense was over, I started regular jiu jitsu again in April, but felt much more exhausted than usual. My vertigo was getting worse to the point that it was always present. I took a break from Jiu Jitsu again in May.

May-June 2021—My throat was so sore, that I thought I had tonsillitis. My left ear was plugged. I felt like I was getting sick with some sort of virus, except it went on for weeks without getting better. I saw an ENT in mid June. He thought maybe I had Meniere’s, but didn’t officially diagnose me, since I needed to get a hearing test, which is scheduled for this month, and at the time of writing this has not happened yet. Other than that, he didn��t see anything else that alerted him. Soon after, I began to get very sick with horrible vertigo. I was bedridden again.

July 2021–Until the 2nd, I was in an absolutely horrible flare that had lasted without relief for about two weeks. I was convinced that this was just my life now, and in desperation, I called the doctor. She told me to come in that same day. Normally, I don’t leave the house when I’m feeling my worst. I had to keep laying down at the doctor’s because my vertigo was so bad. The doctor performed her usual tests, and looked in my nose. She informed me that it was very inflamed and swollen and she wasn’t sure how I was able to breathe out of it. I admitted that every morning, my nose is stuffed up pretty badly. She prescribed the Montelukast, that I’m unable to take because of side effects, and told me that she really thinks that allergies are causing my vertigo because the ear nose and throat are all connected. At first, I was discouraged with this diagnosis, because I felt like she was brushing off my symptoms. *Just* allergies?! I couldn’t believe allergies could cause such severe symptoms.

We made a few more stops after visiting the doctor, and when I’d been out of the house for about an hour and a half, I miraculously started feeling a little better. What?? Was the doctor right? I knew my house was probably triggering my allergies, but I didn’t think it was *that* bad.

Getting out of the house for two hours brought me out of one of my worst flairs. I’m now about 99.9% that mold in my house, specifically the basement, is making me sick. I’m going to keep testing this to be sure, but I’m now filled with some hope that I may be able to lead a much less depressing life. Time will tell.

#allergies #chronic illness #mold is bad #allergies are no joke

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fizzyxcustard · 4 years ago

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Fear and Loathing (2)

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Fandom: seaQuest 2032

Summary: (Part 2 of The Right Thing - this will be a chaptered fic) Captain Hudson knows that you and Lucas are more than just friends, and after changing your shift rotations to make sure you’re not on duty together, you take things into your own hands and request a transfer from seaQuest. Before your transfer can be processed, officers and crew begin showing signs of extreme anxiety, anger and paranoia. Some are worse affected than others, you being one of them. Can you fight for not only your relationship with Lucas but your state of mind?

Pairings: Ensign Lucas Wolenczak x FemLieutenant!Reader, Commander Jonathan Ford x Lieutenant Lonnie Henderson (only slight)

Warnings: Language, violence, insecurity, angst, paranoia, anxiety, mental instability, very mild sexual references, age difference/gap.

Comments: If you wish to be added to my seaQuest tag list, which will be separate from all my other tags, let me know, and I will only tag you in these if you specifically request to be tagged. This is practically a dead fandom now, but I would still like to share my writings with you. If you would like to ask any questions, then by all means just ask!

Captain Hudson ushered you into his quarters, and Lucas automatically followed on behind without any prompt. Lucas’ heart was racing frantically. He was losing you. And how could he stop it?

With a loud sigh, Hudson sat behind his desk. “I hope to get back to running this vessel sometime today,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you apologised. “I’m aware of problems that have occurred due to my personal conduct with Ensign Wolenczak, and that is why I wish to request a transfer.” You stood upright, your hands behind your back, much in contrast to Lucas’ defensive posture of his crossed arms.

Lucas was aghast at you. “You can’t!”

You placed your official request of transfer down on Hudson’s desk. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hudson said.

“You can’t actually accept this!” Lucas shouted, glaring at the Captain and pointing at the white envelope for emphasis.

Hudson’s jaw clenched in frustration and his eyes darkened. “You will control yourself, Ensign, or it will be you I transfer. She has every right to request transfer, and I thank you for your professionalism, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied, still remaining composed.

“Ensign, please return to your station. Lieutenant, I’d like a word.”

Lucas looked at you sadly, a stray tear falling down his cheek. Then he left the room, his shoulders hunched, the weight of the world resting upon them.

You continued to be composed, despite your heart shattering. By giving in to your feelings and instincts, you were now jeopardising your career.

“Take a seat,” Hudson instructed. It was quite plain for him to see the pain in your eyes that you were trying so hard to conceal. Hudson’s face softened and he sighed. “I was his age once, believe it or not, and he still has a lot of growing up to do in order to fill that uniform. Losing either of you is the last thing that I want to see happen, but may I give you a piece of advice?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t keep letting him push you to take full responsibility for this. Be accountable for your actions, and yours alone. Maybe the shift rotation change was a little harsh. Whilst I consider your transfer request, you’ll go back to your original shift pattern as of now. However, outside of duty and meal times, you and Mr. Wolenczak are under strict orders to remain separated. If I find that either of you have broken this order, you’ll both be dismissed from duty immediately.”

“Thank you for understanding, Sir,” you said, saluted, and left.

You returned to the bridge and sat beside Lucas in your usual spot. “Keep quiet, and that’s an order, Ensign,” you instructed, never looking at him. However, you could imagine his expression, but couldn’t bring yourself to look.

“Is everything alright, Lieutenant?” Commander Ford asked, approaching your station.

“Yes, Commander. Captain Hudson has changed my shift rotation back to its original pattern while my request for transfer is considered.” You knew that the others on the bridge were having their ears filled with your personal business, but you resigned yourself to the fact that they would all eventually find out what was happening.

For the rest of the day you and Lucas remained quiet, barely speaking but a handful of words to each other, which were always in connection with duty. Each time Hudson gave an order, you could see Lucas’ jaw clench tight and sheer loathing flash in his eyes. Hudson had understood you far more than you ever thought he would, and considering his authority, he hadn’t brought punishment down upon you that was as firm as other captains. The very first captain of seaQuest, Marilyn Stark, who perished after going rogue in her extreme ideas, would have probably recommended complete stripping of your rank and Lucas’, calling for your dismissal from the Navy and UEO. No way would you have been employed for either again, not even for a desk job in headquarters. There were certainly harsher captains to serve under.

At dinner, Lucas came behind you, holding an empty food tray. “What are you doing?” he growled in your ear.

“I’m doing what needs to be done, Lucas,” you hissed back in response. You never turned to see his face, but you could imagine his infamous sulking pout. The food you had put on your tray didn’t seem all that appealing, and as you gazed over it, your stomach began to lurch, and you could feel the all too familiar palpitations in your chest. It all seemed stronger than usual, until you lost your grip on the tray and it fell to the floor. All of a sudden you found yourself on the floor next to your tray. Lucas’ voice broke through the cloud of grogginess and dizziness that was surrounding you. Every breath you took and it felt like splintered glass in your chest.

“I’ll take her to Med Bay,” Lucas told the small gathering around you. Eyes were looking down on you and voices were loud, chattering at you and through you. The faces looked as though they were dissolving; you blinked hard, causing flashes of light to break through the darkness beneath your eyelids. Lucas tried to help you up, but you toppled to the side, nearly taking him down to the floor with you.

There was a small commotion around you as officers flitted in and out, and Lonnie finally returned with a wheelchair.

Lucas wheeled you out, and still your vision remained blurred. It was like a sheet of blue and silver before your eyes with flashes of beige and other colours, moving this way and that. Breath was passing through you a little easier now and the chest pain was subsiding.

In the Med Bay and the doctor, a middle-aged Irish fellow with glasses, began to inspect you, asking about your symptoms. By now and you felt jittery, as if your muscles were contracting more than they should have been. A fluttering was still present in your gut and chest.

“It sounds like a panic attack to me,” the doctor mused. “But the fact you fainted and have blurred vision is what is concerning me. Maybe a sudden change in blood pressure? I’d like to take blood samples and keep you in overnight.”

“Do you think it’s serious?” Lucas asked in concern.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets. Lucas and the doctor’s voices seemed to drift away as you felt the hair on your neck stand to attention, and subconsciously your teeth ground against one another.

Captain Hudson appeared at your bedside after he’d heard of what had happened. “Lieutenant,” he began. Then his suspicious gaze shot to Lucas, who was stood the other side of your bed. “Ensign, the doctor can do his job from here.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lucas replied, venom dripping from his tone. He shot one last concerned and sad glance at you before disappearing.

“I want to keep her overnight for observation, Captain,” the doctor began. “The passing out and blurred vision is what’s concerning me.”

“Do what you need to, Doctor. I just want my Lieutenant back in one piece,” Hudson said.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a spot of admiration for your captain. He may have been stern and abrupt, but he cared for his crew and looked after them well.

“I admired your actions today. It’s your integrity that I greatly appreciate. Get some rest,” Hudson said, shooting you a faint smile before walking out of the room.

The next half an hour was the doctor examining you. Eye test, hearing test, blood pressure, blood test and urine sample. Naturally your blood pressure was a little elevated due to the stressors on your body. The blood test would be ready the following morning; every aspect of your body’s function would be tested.

Lonnie came to visit shortly before the doctor was due to finish. “Do you want me to bring you anything?” she asked kindly. You asked for your journal and current novel you were reading.

By the time that it was half ten, you could feel fatigue setting in. Calm had come over you again, and you lay down, closing your eyes. Waves and the moon. Black sky and sparkling stars. Lucas holding you. They way it should have been. And as you drifted away into sleep, you never noticed one tear fall down your cheek.

As you ate breakfast the next morning in the Med Bay, the doctor began reading through your test results. He furrowed his eyebrows; the blood test showed normal activity for your immune system, sugar and lipids, but your hormone levels showed a significant drop in serotonin and high adrenaline levels. An unknown viral strain was present but its DNA did not match anything in the medical database.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he said. He pulled up a chair next to your bed.

“Morning, Doctor,” you replied, swallowing a mouthful of toast.

“I’ve looked over your blood test results this morning, and whilst most of it is normal, your blood is showing a dip in serotonin levels and an unknown viral toxin.”

“Virus?” you asked, shocked. You had been under the impression that all this was was a panic attack induced by stress.

“A panic attack makes sense with the lowered levels of serotonin and elevated adrenaline. But this virus concerns me as I’m not sure if it was responsible for the symptoms in the first place.”

“I’ve suffered with anxiety for some years, Doctor. And I stopped taking medication for it when I enlisted at twenty-two.”

“I’d like to keep you here for another few hours and take regular blood samples. I intend to send them to the main lab at the UEO headquarters and see what their thoughts are. Maybe we can look at online counselling to help with the anxiety.”

Lucas visited you that morning before his shift. He stood at your bedside and smiled sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot calmer but tired. The doctor says I have a virus which isn’t identified, and isn’t sure if it’s linked to my panic attack and passing out last night.”

“If you need anything at all, I’m here. Just ask.” He reached out and touched your hand, but you flinched and pulled away.

“Don’t!” you said sternly.

“You’re letting Captain Hudson dictate our lives!” Lucas hissed.

Your heart began to pound again and the sharp pains built, radiating through your chest like forks of electricity. You gasped, trying desperately to get your breath. “Get….out….” you were able to say.

“Ensign, please leave,” the doctor ordered.

Later that morning and Lucas was pulled into Captain Hudson’s quarters. Lucas, as usual, stood with his jaw clenched and his eyes glaring in anger at the captain.

“You are not to visit her again, Ensign! Do I make myself clear?” Hudson boomed. “It’s funny how both attacks she’s suffered have been when in your company. Not only does she have more moral integrity than you and professionalism by requesting a transfer, but she’s fighting an unknown virus. I will not have you put more on her shoulders.”

“I’ve put nothing…”

“Enough!” Hudson shouted. “I’m thisclose,” he began, holding his forefinger and thumb close together for emphasis, “to shredding her transfer request and putting you aboard another vessel instead. Captain Bridger allowed you far too much freedom on this boat. You’ll learn to keep your mouth shut, follow orders and not back answer me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lucas growled.

“Good. Get out of my sight,” Hudson shot back.

You remained in the Med Bay for the rest of the day. Lonnie came to visit and brought you fresh underwear and toiletries to wash with. She stayed for a little while, comfortable in your bedside chair, talking about what had happened on the bridge that day. “Be glad that you can have a break,” she giggled. “It’s not right without you though.”

“I’m hoping to be back in a couple of days. The doctor wants me to rest and de-stress, which is easier said than done in this place, especially with Lucas’ constant sulking.” You sighed.

“Hey, I know you think the world of him, but you can’t let him keep putting on to you. He’s stressing you to the point of making you sick. I know you requested a transfer and it’s because of him. He still has a lot of growing up to do.”

“You’re right. He does.”

#seaquest #seaquest 2032 #seaquest dsv #fanfic #Lucas wolenczak #Lucas wolenczak x you #Lucas wolenczak x reader #Lucas wolenczak x fem!reader #captain Oliver hudson #lieutenant lonnie henderson #commander Jonathan ford #dagwood #Darwin the dolphin #lieutenant jj fredricks #lieutenant Tim o'neill #lieutenant James brody #Tony piccolo

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mrjat396 · 4 years ago

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THE MANY HEALTH BENEFITS OF METH

In low, pharmaceutical-grade doses, methamphetamine may actually repair and protect the brain in certain circumstances. But stigma against the drug could be harming patients and holding back research.

TROY FARAHMAY 15, 2019

D-methamphetamine is what generally appears on the street—although it's often cut with other chemicals—whereas l-meth provides a less addictive, shorter-lived high that is less desirable among drug users.

(Photo: Fiona Goodall/Getty Images)

Ask your doctor about methamphetamine. It's not a phrase you'll ever hear on TV or the radio, but here's a secret: Meth is an incredible medicine. Even the Drug Enforcement Administration admits it, and doctors are known to prescribe it for narcolepsy, obesity, and ADHD. Historically, meth has been used to reverse barbiturate overdoses and even raise blood pressure during surgery. Some preliminary research suggests that meth can be neuroprotective against stroke and traumatic brain injury, even stimulating the growth of brain cells.

Yet we're constantly warned never to try meth—"not even once," goes the refrain—or it will instantly cause addiction and ruin your life. Before fentanyl was the demon drug du jour, meth was seen as the worst, most destructive, most evil chemical you could find on the streets. Even of late, if you ask the New York Times or NBC, you'll learn that meth, "the forgotten killer," is back with a "vengeance." Other outlets, from Rolling Stone to CNN to The Daily Beast, have raised the alarm about meth use in the context of the opioid overdose crisis.

Stimulant-related deaths are indeed on the rise in North America—in some regions, meth is even more prevalent than heroin. Surveying drug overdoses in America from 1979 through 2016, researchers wrote in Science in September of 2018 that "Methamphetamine deaths have increased most dramatically in the western and southwestern United States."

Meth poisonings accounted for an estimated 14,845 hospitalizations in 2015, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), and another 15,808 emergency room visits. In 2016, around 7,500 people died from overdosing on stimulants, including meth. If you ask most people, including policymakers, you'll hear that meth is a scourge that can do no good.

But if you've ever used something like Vicks VapoInhaler, you've experienced the healing benefits of meth firsthand. That's because the over-the-counter nasal decongestant contains levomethamphetamine, the levorotary form—or "mirror image"—of the same stuff from Breaking Bad. Procter & Gamble tries to obscure this fact by spelling the active ingredient "levmetamfetamine." Selegiline, a drug for treating Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases, also metabolizes into levomethamphetamine.

There is a significant difference between these two opposing molecules. D-methamphetamine is what generally appears on the street—although it's often cut with other chemicals—whereas l-meth provides a less addictive, shorter-lived high that is less desirable among drug users. But people can and do use it recreationally. Abuse is rare, however, in part because the high is shitty, but also because d-meth is so widely available. It's easier to buy a more powerful form of the drug on the street than it is to try to extract it from over-the-counter medications.

Other Americans are prescribed actual, pure meth by their doctors. It happens less frequently these days, but in ADHD, obesity, or narcolepsy cases where nothing else has worked, a drug called Desoxyn (methamphetamine hydrochloride) can sometimes help. It can even be prescribed to children as young as seven.

It's important to make these distinctions. Meth didn't make a "comeback"; it never left. It can't return with a "vengeance" and it can't be "evil" because we're talking about a chemical compound here. It has no personality, no feelings, no intentions.

Thus it does a disservice to science and to medicine, as well as to the people who use these drugs responsibly, to treat a molecule with dualistic properties purely as a poison. And as recent research has shown, we're still uncovering some of the potential therapeutic benefits of methamphetamine. Confronting the stigma associated with meth and highlighting its benefits can better inform drug policy and addiction treatment.

(Photo: HO/Royal Thai Navy/AFP/Getty Images)

'IT'S JUST A STIMULANT, LIKE ANY OTHER STIMULANT'

For Jordan*, the meth he's prescribed works better against his ADHD with fewer side effects than the Adderall he'd been on for 20 years. About five years ago, Jordan asked his doctor if he could try methamphetamine. The doc said sure.

"The first time I brought it to the pharmacy, the pharmacist actually said to me, 'Oh, your doctor wrote this prescription wrong, this is the stuff that they make in meth labs,'" Jordan tells me by phone. "I told him to type 'Desoxyn' into the computer, and he did. He kind of backtracked, [but] he obviously had no idea."

Jordan, a middle-aged man from North Carolina who works in clinical research, now switches every three months between Adderall and Desoxyn to prevent building a tolerance to either stimulant.

Methamphetamine and amphetamine (one of the active ingredients in Adderall) are almost identical chemicals. The main difference between the two is the addition of a second methyl group to methamphetamine's chemical structure. This addition makes meth more lipid-soluble, allowing for easier access across the blood-brain barrier. Meth is therefore not only more potent, but also longer-lasting.

"The medications have definitely been important for me, to be productive, to be successful, not just at work but also in my personal life," Jordan says. "I've been on the medications for years, but I can take Adderall or methamphetamine and take a nap afterwards. I don't have any noticeable side effects."

Jordan also doesn't feel "high" from the doses he takes—approximately 10 to 15 milligrams of meth per day. Doses at this level are well tolerated by most people. It's very difficult to estimate the typical dosages of illicit meth taken on the street, but they are generally many times higher and taken every couple of hours. Further, the route of administration—typically, users smoke or inject illicit meth—allows for more of the drug to enter the bloodstream than taking a prescription pill.

At high doses, meth gives a rush of euphoria, boosting attention span, zapping fatigue, and decreasing appetite. Intense sexual arousal, talkativeness, and rapid thought patterns are also common. Body temperature and heart rate shoot up, which can cause irregular heartbeat, increasing the risk of seizures. If taken repeatedly over long periods, street meth can be highly neurotoxic, inducing paranoia and psychosis.

But illicit meth is also often used to self-medicate, according to Mark Willenbring, an addiction psychiatrist from St. Paul, Minnesota, with over 30 years of practice treating substance-use disorders. In Willenbring's experience, most of his patients who use illegal meth are treating undiagnosed ADHD.

"There's a high degree of comorbidity between substance-use disorders and ADD," Willenbring says. "They used meth for years in a controlled way, they never over-used it, they just used enough to get an effect, and then they stopped. One misconception is that it's always very addictive."

With most people who are addicted to meth, Willenbring says, you can't tell it just by looking at them. Carl Hart, a neuroscientist in Columbia University's Department of Psychology, agrees that the image of a snarling meth addict with bad teeth is a false stereotype. The dental damage so prevalent in anti-drug propaganda, he says, is more likely due to poor nutrition and lack of sleep—not to the drug. "There is no empirical evidence to support the claim that methamphetamine causes physical deformities," Hart wrote in a 2014 co-authored report.

"It's just a stimulant, like any other stimulant," Willenbring says. "It's a marketing issue."

Part of the reason Jordan asked to try Desoxyn in the first place was to see if he'd develop any of the "stereotypical meth addict problems," as he puts it. He hasn't.

"Those of us that know the reality have a responsibility to say, 'Hey, not that shooting up meth isn't bad, but the chemical itself isn't bad,'" Jordan says. "It's just misuse of the chemical that's bad."

For Joan*, a 66-year-old grandmother living off the grid in northern Georgia, Desoxyn makes her feel normal. "Not high, not hyped up, just normal," she tells me. She's been taking prescription meth since 2006, but first tried many other ADHD meds, such as Ritalin and Concerta, with poor results. But Desoxyn has not only helped her socialize, manage bills, and finish her master's degree in social work; it's also helped with Joan's depression and self-esteem.

"The only downside is the cost," she says. "It's one of the oldest drugs on the market, but even generic, it is outrageously expensive."

Still, meth isn't for everyone, of course. Kevin*, a 31-year-old artist from the Midwest, was first prescribed Desoxyn at age 15 to treat extreme fatigue and trouble focusing. But misdiagnosed mental-health issues—his doctors thought he had bipolar disorder, when in fact he had post-traumatic stress from childhood abuse—led to worsening symptoms.

"Being able to just take a bunch of pills that made the exhaustion go away for a while felt like a blessing, but it was just a Band-Aid on the problem," Kevin says. "I became completely dependent upon Desoxyn to function, and any lapse in taking my dose would result in a terrible energy crash."

"In retrospect, my neurologist at the time would have done well to consider the effects of intense stimulants on someone already prone to mania, insomnia, and hallucinations," he says. "I think Desoxyn has its merits as part of a treatment plan for attentive disorders, but that's the thing—it needs to be part of a larger understanding of how and why it might have a negative impact upon the patient's overall health, and should remain closely monitored throughout."

"Stigma is the lens [through] which we see all drug issues. It keeps us from making the best decisions. It is fear-based, not rational, not creative. Because of stigma, we have not fully addressed the opioid crisis."

(Photo: Guillermo Arias/AFP/Getty Images)

HOW METH CAN TREAT BRAIN INJURY—AND MUCH MORE

Street doses of meth can be extremely damaging to your health. The purity of such drugs is often unknown, and repeated, high doses of meth have been proven to be neurotoxic. But in low, pharmaceutical-grade doses, meth may actually repair and protect the brain in certain circumstances.

This was first discovered in 2008, when researchers at Queen's Medical Center Neuroscience Institute in Honolulu, Hawaii, analyzed five years of data on traumatic head injuries. They unexpectedly found that patients who tested positive for methamphetamine were significantly less likely to die from the injuries. The authors suggested that meth could have neuroprotective benefits.

To learn more, in 2011, a different team from the University of Montana applied meth to slices of rat brain that had been damaged to resemble the brains of stroke victims. Then they induced strokes in living rats, using a method called embolic MCAO, and injected them with methamphetamine. At low doses, the meth gave better behavioral outcomes and even reduced brain-cell death. At high doses, the meth made outcomes worse.

Because meth stimulates the flow of important neurotransmitters—dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine—the Montana researchers theorized that methamphetamine may provide neuroprotection through multiple pathways. David Poulsen, one of the researchers involved, says this was a "serendipitous discovery."

"So we decided, well, if it worked in stroke, it's probably going to work really well in traumatic brain injury," says Poulsen, now a neurosurgeon at the University of Buffalo who specializes in treatments for protecting the brain after severe damage.

Traumatic brain injury, or TBI, occurs after a violent smash to the skull. Its consequences include concussions on the mild end and coma or death on the severe end. TBI kills around 50,000 Americans annually, according to the CDC, while about 2.8 million of us visit the emergency room for TBI-related injuries every year. There is currently no Food and Drug Administration-approved treatment for TBI.

So, Paulson and his team reasoned, if meth can already be prescribed for children, why not to adults with TBI?

To test the proposition, Poulsen and colleagues gave TBI to rats. Giving an animal brain trauma isn't easy, but for more than two decades, there's been a trick called the rat lateral fluid percussion injury model: Simply cut a hole in the skull of a rat and apply water pressure to the brain.

About half the rodents—19 male Wistar rats—were given this treatment, and eight of these were then given meth. The rats given meth performed better at a task called the Morris water maze, a widely used experiment that involves plopping a rat into a pool of water with a hidden platform. By tracking how long it takes the rodent to find the platform, scientists can measure many different aspects of cognitive function.

"By the third day of training, there were no statistically significant differences between the uninjured control rats and the injured rats that had been treated with methamphetamine," Poulsen and his colleagues wrote.

But the team also found that low doses of meth were protecting immature neurons, while also promoting the birth of new brain cells that are important for learning and memory. The same was also true for rats that were given meth, but not injured.

"We see not just little, but very significant improvements in cognition and behavior," Poulsen says. "Their memories improved, functional behavior is improved.... It's not a trivial difference."

"In light of the fact that low-dose methamphetamine is FDA-approved for use in juveniles and adults, we see no valid reason why it cannot be utilized in human clinical trials for stroke and TBI," Poulsen and colleagues concluded in 2016.

But those clinical trials, considered the gold standard for testing medication, have yet to materialize, even while a 2018 retrospective study found similar results to the Hawaiian neuroscience report: Out of 304 patients with TBI, those who also tested positive for meth had better recovery results than those who did not. "The potential neuroprotective role of meth and other similar substances cannot be ignored," the authors wrote in Clinical Neurology and Neurosurgery last July.

There are limited conclusions that we can draw about these rodent and retrospective studies, and it's probably unlikely that nurses will soon start giving meth to people who have cracked their skulls. Still, a wide variety of stimulant therapies for TBI is being explored, with positive results. These include trials with modafinil, a narcolepsy drug; amantadine, a Parkinson's drug; and dextroamphetamine, one of the components of Adderall. But there's still no indication of a single clinical trial for methamphetamine for TBI registered with the National Institutes of Health.

Methylphenidate, also known as Ritalin, seems to be the stimulant most popular in these trials. For example, in 2004, researchers at Drucker Brain Injury Center at MossRehab Hospital in Pennsylvania gave methylphenidate, better known as Ritalin, to 34 patients with moderate to severe TBI. They reported significant improvements in information processing and attention.

Twelve years later, in Gothenburg, Sweden, another 30 patients suffering from prolonged fatigue following TBI were given methylphenidate and observed for six months. They also showed improved cognitive function and reduced fatigue. But a 2016 meta-analysis of 10 controlled trials found the main benefit of giving methylphenidate for TBI was increased attention, "whereas no notable benefit was observed in the facilitation of memory or processing speed," the authors wrote. They encouraged more research into appropriate dosages and length of prescription.

Birgitta Johansson, a neuroscientist at the University of Gothenburg and lead author of the Swedish study, suggests caution whenever treating someone with a brain injury. "With methylphenidate, it is important to be aware about possible side effects, [such] as increased blood pressure and heart rate and also risk of anxiety," she says. "It is always very important to prescribe medication with care and follow the patient carefully."

But the reason meth isn't studied more rigorously—for TBI, for Alzheimer's and Parkinson's, for stroke—could also come down to money. Methamphetamine is off-patent, meaning there may be less financial incentive for pharmaceutical companies to explore the drug's potential uses. Consider Vyvanse, a drug first marketed in 2007, with a new formulation introduced in 2017, that racked up $2.1 billion in sales in 2017. Desoxyn, which is sold by three companies, only earned about $9.3 million in 2009.

While Methamphetamine may not be widely recognized as medicine, it clearly has potential to heal as well as harm. Recognizing the duality of meth is arguably all the more essential in the face of a rising stimulant overdose crisis.

"Stigma regarding any substance use or substance use disorder is counterproductive," says Dan Ciccarone, professor of family medicine at the University of California–San Francisco. He says the overdose crisis is shifting from opioids to stimulants and that we are not prepared for the next wave. "Stigma is the lens [through] which we see all drug issues. It keeps us from making the best decisions. It is fear-based, not rational, not creative. Because of stigma, we have not fully addressed the opioid crisis."

That stigma remains a major hurdle, and until doctors and public-health officials counteract this kind of messaging, it seems unlikely that a multinational pharmaceutical company would risk marketing a substance only believed to be toxic and deadly.

"Everything will kill you, if you take enough of it," Poulsen says. "Some things don't require a lot to do that. Meth is one of those things. But just like any drug, the difference between a poison and a cure is the dose."

*These names have been changed.

TAGSALZHEIMER'SADDERALLTRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURIESFEATURES & INVESTIGATIONSMETHAMPHETAMINEMETHTOPIC: HEALTH CARE

BY TROY FARAH

Troy Farah is an independent journalist and photographer in California. His reporting on science, health, and narcotics has appeared in Wired, Ars Technica, Smithsonian, Discover, Vice, and elsewhere. He co-hosts the drug policy podcast Narcotica.

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 48

Warnings: angst

Tags: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

An incessant knock at the door rouses her from her sleep, and she groans in protests as she rolls over onto her back and stares up at the cove ceiling. She's unsure of how much time has passed since Tyler left to attend to the drama with McMann, but the sun has changed positions and is now at full force as it streams through the window and onto the bed. She presses the heels of her palms on her eyes in an attempt to both clear the sleep out of them and rid her brain of some of the lingering fogginess. Hoping that if she stays as motionless and as silent as possible, whoever is trying to contact her will just go away. She's exhausted; a fatigue that she's come to recognize as a late first trimester side effect. With each of her pregnancies it had set in at the same; somewhere between the middle and the end of the second month. She does the math in her head; figuring out the exact dates that conception was the most possible. He'd just gotten back from El Salvador; a simple (for once) in and out assassination of a known human trafficker. Sarge had picked the kids for a rare weekend at his and grandma's house, and he'd given her a wink as he'd teased her about being able to spend 'noisy adult time' with her frequently absent husband. Which they'd managed plenty of; wild and uninhibited, intense and passionate, often rough. And it was the first time in a long time she had actually been make the noises that she'd gotten so used to hiding behind her hand or a pillow.

Condoms had become their go to for protection after Declan had been conceived when she was on the pill. And seeing as neither of them at the time had been one hundred sold on whether to have more children, that ruled out getting her tubes or a vasectomy for him, so something had to be used. So she thought they'd been careful.

Apparently not careful enough.

She places both hands on her stomach; still flat for now (aside from the baby weight she hasn't managed to lose since having Declan), but if her intuition, calculations, and pregnancy history were correct, she'd be just beginning to show around the beginning of the fifth month. It wouldn't be much; just a little bump that would be visible underneath tight fitting clothes. But it would seem much more real than it did right now; when all she had to show for growing a life inside of her was fatigue and horrible all day sickness. It was something she always marvelled at; the changes in her body as the weeks and months progressed, the way her hips and her breasts would fill out, the way her hair would become thicker and more vibrant, the way her skin seemed to glow. And it was always magical, no matter how many times she carried a life inside of her, to feel that little person moving around. The kicking and the squirming, the way -in the last trimester- you could sometimes see the entire outline of a hand or a foot when room was starting to run out and they had no more vacant space to move into. And above everything, she couldn't get enough of the way her husband 'softened' over the last three months; the way that big strong man would lie in bed at night with those calloused and battered hands resting on her belly, the most gentle smile curving his lips and the utmost excitement in his eyes every time the baby kicked or seemed to respond to his voice.

And she smiles as she thinks of those times past and those moments still to come. When they'd be in the comfort and security of their own home, back under the same roof as their children, finally able to relax and enjoy the new life that they'd be bringing into this world. Things would be different this time; he'd be around for the majority of the pregnancy, able to attend more appointments and ultrasounds, no going out of the country for extended periods of time, no worry every time the phone rang that he'd run off and put himself in danger.

The knocking has ceased, and she once again closes her eyes, hands still on her stomach, attempting to fall back asleep once more. Sleep gave her the opportunity not to worry about him. The only time where she isn't stressed out and her mind is imagining all the worst case scenarios. And she feels as if she's just on the brink of sleep when she hears the faint scratching of a key card being slid through the security slot, followed by the click as the system unlocks the door. She quickly jumps off the bed, feeling temporarily dizzy as she scurries through the door; she'd put the chain lock and the deadbolt in place, exactly as he'd instructed her to do if he ever left her alone.

“Wait...wait...” she implores, and hurriedly draws back the chain and snaps open the bolt. “...usually you call when you're on your back so I know to unlock everything, why...”

She stops mid sentence when she comes face to face with Nik. The other woman's lips set in a grim line, dark eyes troubled, And immediately thinks the worst. All those times she's spent imaging that knock on the door; how Nik would be standing there with that exact same expression, preparing to give her devastating news.

“What happened?” she can't help the panic that settles into her voice. “Please tell me he's okay. Please tell me he's not...”

“Tyler's fine,” Nik assures her, yet her expression doesn't change. “I'm here to talk to you.”

“About?”

“About Tyler.”

Esme frowns. “Look, if you're here to tell me you've been fucking him and he's leaving me for you, I'll kill both of you. Just saying.”

“He would never do anything like that to you and you know. Can I come in? This is a conversation we need to have behind closed doors. This isn't something you want your neighbours hearing.”

She senses the dire importance in the other woman's voice, and then steps back and holds the door open, motioning for her to step into the room. Closing the door, she resets the chain and the deadbolt. Just in case.

“I heard the good news,” Nik says, as she surveys the room, hands on her slender hips, expression still cold and unnerving. “About the baby.”

“You talked to Tyler?”

“A little while ago. I ran into him. Where they're holding Michael McMann.”

“Yeah, he left a while ago. I guess Mark and his guys were having some issues with McMann and Tyler's the one that puts the most fear into him. Why were you there? Just checking up on things?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Nik, what's going on? You seem...I don't know...pissed.”

“I'm just a little upset,” she admits. “About this whole situation. With McMann.”

“I know it's taking a long time. Especially to find out where the kids are. But we've been doing everything we can. We've been running intel around the clock and Yaz has tech in every possible place he can think of. And Tyler can't do much until he actually knows where the kids are, so...”

“Did you know?” Nik interrupts.

“Know what?”

“About McMann. About where he is.”

“I know that Mark and his guys are holding him somewhere until the IRA makes up their mind. I know that they've been trying to get information out of him; about where his kids are.”

Nik's eyes narrow. “That's all you know?”

“”What more is there to know? That's all I've been told.”

“And who told you? About what was happening with McMann?”

“Tyler did. Why? Shouldn't have he? Was he supposed to keep a secret? Look, if you're pissed at him for telling me, he's been having a hard time...mentally...since McMann told him what he would have done to me had his people caught me. He's been having real low moments and he's just not himself, Nik. He's obsessing over things and he misses the kids and he hasn't been taking his meds and....”

“Esme....” she begins, choosing her words carefully. “...what am I about to tell you? I'm not doing this to upset you. Or hurt you. And the last thing I want to do is cause problems for you or that baby. Because you're my friend and I love you and...”

“I love you, too. I know we have our problems, but...”

“....I need to stay as calm as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“You can't expect me to be calm when you have that tone in your voice or that look in your eyes. What's going on? He is cheating on me, isn't he. That fucking bastard.”

“No. It's not that. Believe me when I say that Tyler would never, ever do that to you. And he's had the opportunities.”

“Thanks to you,” her tone is accusatory.

“And I'm sorry for that. I really am. For ever crossing those boundaries. But this something you need to hear. Something that is far worse than the thought of him cheating on you, believe me.”

“Okay...” she crosses her arms over her chest. “....what the hell has he done?”

“You honestly do not know anything else about McMann and what's been happening to him?”

She shakes her head. “Just what I told you. I don't have a reason to know.”

“Actually, you do. Tyler hasn't been telling you the truth. About the McMann thing. About what really happened. About where he's being kept. And what's going on while he's being kept there.”

“Nik, what the hell are you talking about? What would Tyler have to lie about? So what if the Marines are holding this guy and maybe roughing him up now and then. He's a sick and twisted fuck nut that deserves a good beat down. You know what he said about me? What he would have done to me? How he would have made Tyler watch? That is sick shit. And he deserves to have his ass handed to him.”

“This goes way beyond someone having their 'ass handed to them'. I want you to look at something...” Nik pulls her phone out of the front pocket of her pants, tapping on the icon for her photo gallery and then scrolling through pictures before holding the phone out to Esme. “...just keep flipping through them.”

Sighing, Esme holds the phone in the palm of her hand; a frown spreading across her face at the first image. Of a man restrained in a folding metal chair; a heavy chain around his torso keeping him in place, hands restrained behind his back, ankles bound, a hood over his head.

“That's Michael McMann,” Nik explains. “He's being held in a storage locker on the outskirts of town. In an industrial area. Do you know how he got there?”

“I know Tyler went to meet him and there was a plan arranged for Mark and his buddies to help grab him and that they were going to take him somewhere to hold him. I had no idea where.”

“He was drugged. Do you know who drugged him?

“How would I know? I wasn't even there. I just told you that I...”

“Tyler did. Tyler drugged him. And he could have killed him with how much he gave him.”

Her frown grows. “Where would Tyler get drugs from? He doesn't do drugs. He won't even take medication that's prescribed to him.”

“Billy Flynn gave them to him. That's where he met McMann. At Flynn's bar. Did you know that?”

She shakes her head.

“See this?” Nik uses her index finger to switch pictures. “That's Michael Flynn's throat. See how bruised it is? Someone just about snapped his windpipe. See the fingerprints on the side of his neck? That's when someone was choking him to restrain him. And this...” she brings up the next picture. “...is the inside of McMann's mouth. Someone pulled three of his molars out. With pliers.”

“Why are you showing me these?” Esme pushes the phone back into her friend's hands. “What does this have to with me?”

“It was Tyler. Tyler did these things.”

“What?” she can't help but laugh at the absurdness of it. “You're kidding, right? Tyler? My Tyler? He did all that?”

Nik nods.

“You're telling that my husband drugged someone, kidnapped them, and is holding them hostage...in order to torture them...in a storage locker?”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? This has to be some kind of joke. Did Mark put you up to this? Because this is something Mark would do. This is the kind of sick shit he'd get off on. And I wouldn't put it past him to blame it on Tyler. There is no way my husband would do this. This is not who he is. He doesn't torture and maim people. He kills them;when he has to. But he doesn't do this,” she gestures towards the phone. “You know him, Nik. You've known him for even longer than I have. And you know that is not Tyler.”

“Esme, I would not come here and burden you with this. Especially now. Especially when there's a baby inside of you and I know you've had problems in the past with the others. But he won't listen to anyone. We've tried to talk him out of this. Mark, Yaz, myself. We've all tried. And he won't listen. He won't budge. Regardless of what McMann did, this...” Nik holds aloft her phone. “....this is not right. This should not be happening.”

“There's no way he would do all that,” Esme argues. “Not Tyler. He kills because he has to. Because it's either him or them. He doesn't do shit like this. That's not who he is and you know that.”

“You just said he's been having some issues. Mental ones.”

“Yeah, with his PTSD and not taking his meds. But he doesn't go Reservoir Dogs on someone because he's off his meds. He gets moody and depressed but he's more liable to kill himself than someone else. This he would not do. I know him, Nik. I know what he's like. Whether it's when he's at the highest of his highs or the lowest of his lows. And I know he would not do this. So I don't know who told you all of this; that he's doing this. But it's not him.”

“He told me, Esme. Tyler told me. After I heard it from Mark. It's why I came here. To confront Tyler. To try and talk some sense into him. He's not in his right mind. If he was, there's no way he would do this. You're my last resort. I wouldn't have to come to you and put this on you if I had another way of handling this.”

She doesn't know how she feels. Shocked? Numb? Disgusted even? None of it makes sense. None of it seems real. Even with the proof right there in those photographs. And she feels nauseous; the distinct burn of bile as it rises in her throat. “He would not do this,” she says, even though her gut knows it's true. That Nik would not do this to her; purposely make up something so outrageous just to hurt her. “Tyler would not do this.”

“He would. And he is. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

“I don't know....” she admits, and lays a hand on her stomach. “....I don't know what I need to do.”

“Sit down,” Nik takes her by the arm and guides her towards the bed, still holding onto her as she lowers herself down onto the edge. “I'll get you some water. Just try and stay calm, okay?”

Esme nods, then grabs the phone out of Nik's hand before she can depart. Tears clouding her vision as she returns to the photo gallery and sends each of those disturbing, nauseating photos to her own cell phone.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Nik asks, as she returns with a glass of water from the bathroom. “Maybe some fresh air will do you some good. I know it's hard being cooped up like this and you've been under a lot of stress. It will be good for you to get out. Get some exercise. Some sunshine,” she attempts a reassuring smile, and rubs her friend's arm comfortingly. “I know how hard this is. To hear this. To see those pictures.”

“I can't believe he would do this,” Esme's hands shake as she lifts the water to her lips, and Nik puts a supportive hand under the bottom of the glass. “This is not Tyler. He doesn't do things like this, Nik.”

“Not normally, no. But he has been under a lot of stress. A lot of tension. Worry. And now you're having a baby and he has that on his plate too....”

“Don't bring the baby into this. If anything, that's something he should be happy about.”

“He's been off his meds?”

She nods. “I don't know how long for. I've been so caught up with worrying about the kids and worrying about him not getting killed that I haven't been paying attention.”

“It's not your fault,” Nik rubs her back now. “You're his wife, not his babysitter.”

“I always know if he's going through a crisis. Always. And I'm always there for him. To help him through it. And maybe if I noticed sooner...”

“Esme, don't do this to yourself. None of this is your fault. You can help him, but you can't fix him. He has to want to fix himself.”

“I told him not to take this job. I begged him not to take it. He'd just gotten back from Guatemala and he promised me...he promised the kids...that he would stay home. That he wouldn't take anything else for at least two weeks. And then McMann showed up in Telluride and everything went to shit.”

“That was McMann's plan. When he couldn't kill Tyler in Guatemala, he changed his entire plan. He concocted this elaborate story about his wife and his kids because he knew that Tyler would cave in at the mention of kids. He wanted to bring him here to start shit with the IRA. So the IRA would kill him and McMann's hands would be clean. No connection to Tyler's death. But when he brought you in and you started digging around....”

“So it's my fault?” the tears fall in earnest now. “He's doing this because of me? Because I got involved in this?”

“No. Esme, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that McMann had to make things even more complicated and twisted to get his hands on Tyler. Including targeting you and the kids. And that's why Tyler is doing this. Or at least that's his rationale. He feels he needs revenge.”

“For what? I'm fine. The kids are fine. What...?”

“The threat was even worse in his mind because he's not in a good place. You know what he gets like that, when he's off his meds.”

She nods. “He obsesses over things. He thinks things are a hundred times worse than what they are.”

“It's Tyler doing these things, but it's not Tyler at the same time. He's not the Tyler you know. He may think he is, but he isn't.”

“What am I supposed to do? If he's that unhinged, I won't be able to get through to him. No one will be able to get through to him.”

“Tough love?” she suggests. “What is he most afraid of? Not just now. But always.”

“I can't do that him, Nik. I can't hurt him like that. If things are that bad now, what will he get like if I do that to him? I just can't. What he's doing is wrong, I'm not denying that. But I can't break his heart.”

“Esme, this is what he needs. To snap him out of it. If he has something he's afraid to lose, that will be what forces him to save himself. You know I'm right. Remember when you kicked him out? Six months it took. But he smartened up, didn't he? Because he was afraid you'd never take him back and he'd never see his kids.”

“I can't,” she insists. “I can't hurt him like that. Of all the things that would break him...”

“It will force him to get his shit together. It will make him realize that he's out of control and he's need to get his head on straight. I know you don't want to do it. You don't want to use yourself and your kids...his kids...as weapons, but you need to. If you want to save Tyler, you have to do it. Or he'll become someone you don't even recognize. And you won't have a choice to walk away for good. I know you don't want that.”

“No, I don't...” she uses the back of her hand to brush tears off her cheeks. “...I don't want to walk away. I love him. And I know he loves me. I know he loves his kids. And I'm having a baby and I can't do it alone. I can't do it without him.”

“You'll have to if this goes on. Because you're going to loose him. To whatever the hell is going on inside his head. If you want to help save him, you have to do this. He needs you to do this.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agrees. “But it isn't going to well. It's going to go to shit. And then what? When he loses his mind? I'm not afraid of him. I know he won't hurt me. That's one thing I do know for sure. But he's going to flip out, Nik. And this place will be a battle zone.”

“If that happens, you call me and I'll come and get you. You can come stay with me in my room until he calms down., okay?”

Esme nods.

“It's going to be alright,” Nik assures her, as she wraps an around her friend's shoulder, pulling her tight into her side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Everything is going to be alright.”

****

She's sitting at the end of the bed when he returns, nervously bouncing her legs up and down and chewing on her bottom lip; cell phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“What's going on?” Tyler asks, as she slips his feet out of flip flops, leaving them by the door. “I thought you were going out with Tanis?”

“I changed my mind,” her voice is strained, the emotion evident. And she doesn't look at him, even when he walks further into the room and lays his hand on her back and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Where were you?” she asks.

“I told you. I went to help out with McMann.”

“What kind of help?”

“What does it matter?”

“I'm just curious, I guess. I mean, if three Marines can't handle him, what are you supposed to do about it?”

“Just an extra pair of hands there, I suppose. What's going on? You okay? You seem a little...”

“Upset?” she finishes for him.

He nods.

“I need you to be honest with me, Tyler. I don't want you lying to me. Where were you?”

“I just told you...”

“I know where you were and who you were with. But where were you? As in location? Why is it big secret? Why am I not allowed to know these things? How come every time I ask you, you either totally ignore me or you just change the subject?”

“You don't need to know. Your part in all of this is done now. There's nothing left for you to do. Why would I get you involved in anything else? You need to be taking it easy. For the baby.”

“Don't do that,” she shakes her head, and finally turns her face towards him, her eyes darker than he's ever seen them. “Don't you use this baby as an excuse to keep things from me.”

“What are you talking about? What...?” he attempts to lay a hand on her shoulder, and she aggressively pushes it away and stands up, facing him.

“I am going to ask you one more time,” she says, voice trembling. “Where were you?”

“I fucking told you. I was helping with McMann. Where the hell does it matter where the actual place is?”

She inhales deeply, pulls her lip between her teeth, and then exhales sharply. “What the hell is this?” she brings up the photos on her phone, tapping on the one of McMann restrained to the chair, hood still over his face. “Can you explain this? Tell me what this is, Tyler.”

He sighs heavily, fists tightening by his sides. “Where did you get that?”

“Nik. She sent me a whole bunch. See...” she scrolls through the pictures, and when he attempts to reach for the phone, she yanks it away, holding it behind her back. “...tell me you didn't do this. Tell me you didn't drug someone and kidnap them and tie them up in a storage locker. Tell me you didn't do those things.”

He stares at her; long and hard, blue eyes never leaving dark brown.

“Tell me,” she orders. “Tell me it wasn't you. Tell me that she's wrong. That it was someone else and they're just wanting you to take the blame. Tell me.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I can't.”

“So this was all you? All those pictures? All those things done to him? All those bruises and all the blood and the missing teeth? That was all you? You did all of that?”

He nods.

“Why? Why would you do this? What the hell,Tyler? This is not you! You don't do shit like this! You don't hurt people. You help them!”

“I've hurt plenty of people. I've killed even more. You know that.”

“You kill because you have to! Because you don't have a choice. Because it's you or them . But this! What you're doing now? You have a choice! You're choosing to do this! You're choosing to hurt someone!”

“He fucking deserves it,” his voice is low and steady, giving no evidence to the rage that's building inside of him.

“Why? Who the hell are you to say someone deserves this? Jesus Christ, Tyler! You ripped someone's teeth out of their mouth with goddamn pliers! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. He deserves this. I'm doing this for you.”

“For me?” she laughs incredulously. “For me? Why do you think I would want this? I don't want this! Put a bullet in his head and call it a fucking day! Don't do this! This is sick! This is fucked up and you know it!”

“You know what he was going to do to you? To the kids? Our kids?”

“Don't you dare use them in this. Don't you dare use them to justify this. You think this is what they would want? Their daddy doing these kinds of things to people? You worry about what Millie will say when she grows up. How she'll react when she finds out about your past as mercenary. You worry about that then you go and do this? This is somehow better?”

“She'd understand. That I did it for her.”

“You aren't going to rationalize this. No matter what you say to me. This ends now, Tyler. You hand him over to whoever is going to take him and that's it. This ends. You stop this right now.”

He shakes his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing this? What am I doing? Holding you accountable for your bullshit? Like I've been doing for five and a half fucking years! When I have I never not called you out on something? Did you really think I wouldn't call you out on this?”

“You weren't supposed to find out.”

“Oh and lying about it makes it so much better. You know, when Nik showed up here and said we needed to talk, I was almost hoping she was going to tell me you were fucking her. Because that would have been so much easier to deal with than this. And how sad is that? That I'd rather you fuck another woman than do something like this?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that this stops right now. That you don't go near him ever again. That you let Mark and his guys handle this from now on. This ends here. Tell me this ends here.”

He shakes his head.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Look at these pictures!” she throws the phone at them. “Look at them, Tyler! Look at them and tell me that this is okay! Fucking look at them!”

“Don't...” he takes a step towards her, a fist clutched at his side. “....don't fucking talk to me like that.”

“What are you going to? Are you going to the same thing to me? Are you going to lose your shit on me too?”

“I'd never do that. I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because I thought you'd never turn into this. I never thought you'd turn into someone who would do this kind of thing. After all the years you've spent getting people away from sick fucks that do these things, you turn around and you become one of them.”

“I'm nothing like them,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Why are you doing this? Why? Give me one good reason. Look me in the eye and give me one good reason.”

“I told you!” he finally snaps. “He was going to hurt you. He was going to hurt our kids. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Let it happen? Be okay with it?!”

“He can't hurt us because you've got him locked up in that fucking storage place! He can't hurt anyone! So just leave him there to rot if you have to. But don't do this. You don't need to do this!”

“I do. For you. And the kids.”

“No!” she snarls, and jabs him in the chest with her forefinger. “You don't use us like that! Don't you dare use us to justify this! We don't want you doing this! I want you to stop, Tyler. I want you to just walk away from McMann. From the job. I want you to tell Nik to find someone else to get those kids. Because you are in no way healthy enough to do this job.”

He smirks. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Talking to me like this? Who...?”

“I'm your wife, you fucking asshole! I'm your wife and I'm worried about you! Because you're becoming someone I don't even recognize! You're slowly becoming a completely different person and I can't watch it happen. I can't just stand back and let you do this to yourself.”

“The person you remember is gone, Esme. You're remembering someone that existed for five days. In Dhaka. That's who you remember.”

“No,” she shakes her head, remaining defiant. “I remember the person after that. The person who chose to keep going when he could have given up. That's who I remember.”

“The guy you fell in love with? He died that day on the bridge. You know he did. That's who you remember. That guy you were fucking for five days. That's who you remember.”

“No, Tyler. That's not who I remember. I remember the guy who saved a fourteen year old boy even though the job went to shit and there wasn't going to be a payout. I remember the guy who busted his ass to get Ovi and I across the bridge. That's who I remember!”

“Do you remember the guy that got shot in the throat? That fucking bled out all over you? Do you remember him? Look at it!” he points to the scar on his neck. “Fucking look at it, Esme. You can't, can you. You can't even look at it because it because too real to you. Do you remember that guy?”

“Of course I do.”

“Because that guy died that day. And he took those other guys with him. What you got in the end? That's not the same guy.”

“You're better than that guy. You became a better man. Do you remember saying that to me? That I made you want to become a better man? Do you remember that?”

He nods.

“You are a better man. And that's the man I want. I don't want the man that does shit like this to people. And you don't want to be that man. I know you don't want to.”

“I'm sorry,” he snarls. “That I can't be that person for you.”

“You are that person, you dick! And I want you to stay that person, Tyler. I need you stay that person. Your kids need you to stay that person.”

“You should have let me die. On that bridge. You should have just let me die.”

She fights back the tears despite the devastation his words inflict upon her heart. Her entire body. “How can you even say that? Is that really what you wanted? You wanted me to let you die?”

“It would have been better if you'd just let me go.”

“Better for who? You? You were the one that wanted to keep seeing me after Dhaka. You brought it up first. We made plans. Together. To travel and enjoy getting to know each other and see where things took us. A guy who wants to die does not do that. And you can't convince me otherwise.”

“It would have been so much easier,” he speaks with a quiet resolve, despite the rage that causes his entire body to tremble.

“For you? That's bullshit, Tyler and you know it.”

“You wouldn't have wasted the last five and a half years of you life.”

“I didn't waste anything. I married the love of my life. I had his children. There was nothing wasted. I've spent these last five and a half years loving you with everything I am and everything I have. And I spent them being loved by you. I wasted nothing.”

“None of this would be happening. This bullshit with McMann. People going after my kids. Threatening them. If I hadn't survived...”

“But you did,” she hisses. “You did survive. You didn't die because you're a stubborn fucking asshole who refuses to give up. The same stubborn asshole who coded three times in the OR and still came back. You have me. You have your children. Aren't we enough? Aren't we enough to make you want to live?”

“Of course you are. But....”

“There's no 'buts', Tyler. I know how stressed you are right now. I know you're going through a fucking nightmare mentally. And I know that it frustrates you and it confuses you and I know it scares you. But you're not in this alone. I am right here with you. And I'll fight your fight with you.”

“You shouldn't have to!” he argues. “Don't you fucking get that? You shouldn't have to keep doing this!”

“I don't have to do anything. I want to. Why won't you let me help you? Why won't you swallow your goddamn pride and let me in? Just let me help you. Please.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to stop this. This McMann bullshit. Because that's not you. Regardless of what you say, regardless of your stupid ass reasonings. That's not the man I fell in love with. That I married. That I gave children to. It's your brain, Tyler. It's messing with you. So you need to stop right now. And you need to tell Nik that you're done. Someone else can find those kids. You tell her and we leave. We get the first flight out of here and we go and get our kids and Ovi and we go home.”

He shakes his head, voice choked by emotion. “I can't. I'm sorry. I can't.”

“You still want to finish the job,” it's a statement, not a question. “You still think you need to stay and get it done.”

He nods.

“Well I guess you've made your choice then. It was always going to be this way, wasn't it, Tyler. You were always going to chose the job over me, weren't you.”

“That is not what I'm doing. I promised you, at the end of it, I was done.”

“I am sick to death of your promises. Of you breaking them all the time. I'm tired. I'm tired and I've got another human being inside of me that I'm trying to keep alive. I'm tired and I'm done. You made your choice,” she steps past him, aggressively shoving her shoulder into him.

“What are you doing?” he watches as she grabs one of her suitcases out of the unlocked second closet in the hall. “Esme...what the fuck? Stop your fucking games, okay? Just stop this shit and just sit down and we will talk about this and...”

“We are way past sitting down and talking about anything,” she tosses the suitcase onto the bed, angrily yanking on the zipper to open it, then stomps to the dresses and begins tearing open drawers; gathering up various items of clothing and messily tossing them into the case.

“Just stop!” he orders. “What are you doing?!”

“I'm leaving. I'm going back to Colorado. I'll stay with my mom until Ovi brings the kids back.”

“You don't need to do that. Stop...” he stands behind and reaches around her slight frame to grab both of her wrists in one of his hands. “You don't need to leave. I don't want you to leave.”

“If I stay, I'm only going to be in your way. Just like I was in Dhaka.”

“That's not true. You were never in my way in Dhaka.”

“It wouldn't have been so hard if I'd died in that forest too. If Saju had have just done me in when he had the chance. Things would have been a lot easier on you and a lot easier on Ovi.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.”

“Why am I even here still? My usefulness ran it's coarse, right? You don't need me anymore.”

“Of course I need you. You're my wife.”

“You chose, Tyler,” she manages to yank her hands out of his grip. “You made your choice. Now you can live with it.”

“Don't do this. Please. I never chose the job over you.”

“You just did!” she bellows, and pushes him away with her elbow, tears flowing freely down her face. “You just did!”

“I promised you I'd be done after I was finished her. That was what our deal.”

“Well fuck the deal!” she shoves him away once more when he attempts to get closer. “And fuck you too, Tyler!”

“Esme...stop...don't do this. Don't leave. I don't want you to leave.”

“You need to get your shit together,” she orders. “You need to figure out what the hell you want.”

“You,” there's no hesitation. “I want you. I want my kids.”

“Then come with me. Tell Nik that you're done. Tell her you're finished and come home with me.”

“You know I can't. You know I can't leave those kids.”

“But you can you leave yours right? That's a never a problem to you. It's never a problem when you walk out the door while they're sleeping and leave me to clean up your mess. You can leave your own kids...that you helped make...but not complete strangers. Makes total sense.”

“Just give me to the end of the week. Like we agreed on. That's all I'm asking for here. Just five more days.”

“And then five days become ten and ten become twenty and on and on and on.”

“Not this time,” Tyler insists. “This time I'm done. I meant what I said.”

“I'm not staying here. I refuse to stay here. I'm not hanging around to get that phone call or that knock on the door letting me know you're dead. I'm going home. To Colorado. To my mom's. And you get a hold of Ovi and you get him and my kids back. Do you understand me?”

“Esme...” he lays his hands on her shoulders. “...just stop.”

“You track down Ovi and my kids and you get their asses back to Colorado. Or I will never, ever forgive you. I will spend the rest of my life hating you if you don't get my kids back where they belong. And stop!” she uses her elbows to knock her hands off her shoulders. “Stop touching me! I don't want you touching me right now. Just get my kids back, Tyler.”

“They're my kids too,” he angrily reminds her.

“Yeah, well try being a father once in a while. Not just when it's convenient for you and fits your schedule.”

“That's fucking low and you know it, Esme. That's really fucking low. I do what I do for those kids. For you!”

“You do what you do because you like it. You just won't admit. Because it makes you sick to admit it so you use me and the kids as an excuse. Because it makes you feel better. Quit your shit, Tyler. Just admit. For once, just admit you do this job because you enjoy it.”

“I don't enjoy it. I do it because I'm good at it. No. I'm fucking great at it. And the money...”

“Fuck the money. There is not enough money in this world to replace you! I don't care about the money. I would leave with you right now and go back to Australia and live in that goddamn shack with you and four kids and fucking chicken in the bathroom if that's what you wanted. If that is what would make you happy. If that's what would you keep you home and safe!”

“Esme....please...just stay here with me...we can sit down and talk about this. Like rational adults.”

“Tyler, I am way past feeling rational. I'm not staying here with you. I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But I can't be around you right now. I just can't. You need time to think. Without me around.”

“No,” he remains steadfast. “I don't.

She finishes throwing the clothes into the suitcase and zips it closed. “I'll be there. When this is done. I'll be waiting for you to come home. But if in your heart you do want the job over us, don't even bother coming back. Move. Get out of my way.”

“Stop. Right now. Stop whatever fucking game this is and...”

“This isn't a game!” she screams. “I said move!”

He holds his hands up in surrender and steps backwards. “You're leaving now?” he asks incredulously, as she grabs the suitcase and heads for the door. “Right now? Where the hell are you going?”

“I'll stay with Nik. Then I'll get a flight back first thing tomorrow.”

He crosses the room in three long strides, slamming a palm against the door to prevent her from opening it. “Stay here. With me. Then tomorrow you book a flight and I will take you to the airport. Just stay here. With me.”

“Why? Because you think fucking me a few times will make everything better? It doesn't solve everything, Tyler. Regardless of what you think.”

“I never said that. I never even thought it. I just want you to stay. I just want to sleep here. With me. In the same bed. So I can wake up beside you. That's all I want.”

“I can't. You need to respect that. That I need to be away from you right now. This all too much. Finding out what you've been doing. I need time to come to terms with that and I need to take care of myself and this baby and I can't do either of those things if I'm with you. You have to let me go, Tyler.”

“No. I don't, And I won't.”

“If I stay, this won't end well. Because all the worry and the stress is going to get to me and I'm going to lose this baby and you won't ever forgive yourself for that. So please. Just let me go. If you love me, if you love this baby, just let me go.”

“Fine...” he relents, removing his hand from the door and stepping back far enough to allow her to open it.

“I'm sorry,” she says, and he reaches out to clear the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “This is not about not loving you. Because I do. I love you so fucking much. And it's because I love you that I'm doing this.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Do you? Because I need you to understand that. I need you to know that I love you and I'm not leaving you. I don't want this...us...to be over. I just need to take care of myself and this baby. I can't do that if I'm here. And you know I can't. You know right, that?”

“Yup.”

“I want you to find those kids. I do. And then I want you to come home. To me. To our kids. Your kids. Promise me, Tyler. If there's ever going to be one promise you make and keep, make it that one.”

“I promise. I'll come home. To you. To the kids.”

“Be careful, okay? And stay safe. Come home in one piece. And breathing.”

“I will,” he assures her.

She manages a small smiles, then reaches up to push his hair off of his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he leans down to kiss her. Long and languid. Tender.

“I'll see you when I see you,” she says.

He grins. “That's my line.”

“Well, I beat you to it this time.”

He lays a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him, pressing his lips to her brow. “Stay,” he says. “Just tonight. Tomorrow I'll let you leave. I'll take you to the airport.”

“If I don't leave now, I never will. And that's not good for either of us. But I'll be waiting for you. I promise,” she places her hand on the side of his face, running her thumb over his lips and then the bristles of his beard. “I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too. At least call me. Before you leave tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promises, and briefly leans her forehead against his chest before stepping out into the hall and shutting the door behind her.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #chris hemsworth character #sanctuary #extraction

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killervibe · 5 years ago

Text

Be Honest

Note: Spoilers for 6x02!

Summary: The biggest challenge, Cisco soon came to learn, of being Killer Frost’s reluctant co-life coach, was that getting Killer Frost to open up was like pulling teeth.

~.~

The biggest challenge, Cisco soon came to learn, of being Killer Frost's reluctant co-life coach, was that getting Killer Frost to open up was like pulling teeth.

Caitlin did not like to talk about her problems either, so Cisco wasn't sure why he's quite so surprised. The difference, however, between dealing with Caitlin bottling up emotions and Killer Frost pretending not to have any, was that with one he could have a nice, civil conversation with that ended with hugs and mutual understanding—The other was desperate scrambles to damage control imploded social disasters.

Thus, when Killer Frost knocked on Cisco's workshop door with a grimace that looked like she drank spoilt milk for breakfast, he dropped his welding tools like hot potatoes. "What did you do?"

"I fucked up."

"What did you do?" His tone was not kind, and it never seemed to be instinctually. He had to control his voice around her. She bristled when he grew cross without the chance to defend herself, despite the pattern which proved he always had reason to be.

Frost didn't reply straight away, but she did go for Cisco's extra rolling office chair. Reclining back against the leather, she began to ramble her story while yanking off the black combat boots Ralph found for her at a thrift shop. Cisco tried to follow along, batting away her feet as she tried to prop up her mesh socks against his screwdrivers.

Frost rolled her eyes and huffed. "I was doing him a favour, I thought you told me to be nice. Now Ralph hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Cisco replied diplomatically. That man's patience for Killer Frost rivalled the water in the ocean. Cisco couldn't relate. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Cisco adores Caitlin, and he adores her will to stick out taking a long cognitive nap to let her alter ego have some life experiences, but by god did he not adore her.

He's not sure what it is. Barry thinks he's being stubborn and unwilling to try, and Ralph simply never had a problem with her to begin with, but Cisco misses his best friend terribly. The way they laughed and joked, and split the work together to lighten each other's loads. And it's hard to articulate the loss he's feeling without outright dissing Frost to her face.

Cisco tried to reformulate his words, cutting out his irritation. She came to him on her own, and she was following the advice he provided. Despite her feigned nonchalance, he knew she really did hang onto every word he gives.

"But you lied," he pointed out gently. "If you were honest, he wouldn't have felt so embarrassed when he walked into Jitters with split pants. He knew you knew he was flashing his Spider-Man undies even after he asked for your opinion on his outfit. See? Breach of trust."

Cisco turned around, pulling his mask over his eyes so he could get back to work. He had just ignited his blow torch when it extinguished with a spurting fizzle. Cisco looked down to find ice over the nozzle. He bit back a groan and swung back to face her, raising an eyebrow after getting rid of the gear altogether. "Yes?"

She could never just ask nicely.

"So..." Frost frowned like she couldn't wrap her head around something. She brought one of her legs down from his desk, bending at the knee to lean against, pulled up to her chest. Her hair spilled over her ripped black jeans. "Telling the truth is more important than sparing feelings?"

Loaded question. Cisco hesitated. "Sometimes."

"Well, when do you know?"

"It's a judgement call. When you feel it's important enough."

"How do you know when it's important enough?" she pressed.

Cisco massaged his temples. "If the truth is something that the person needs to hear, and you're telling them because you care about their well-being and you truly believe it will benefit them going forward, then yes, it supersedes being sensitive." He met her eyes. "Okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"We good?"

Whatever, she'd usually snark then stalk out. And then Cisco would find Ralph and they'd Compare Notes and Call Banks and Explain Things to save Caitlin's credit score or her reputation with her growingly exasperated landlord.

"Do you have a migraine?" she said instead. Cisco started, taken aback. "I—Uh." He had to admit his fatigue could not be entirely blamed on Killer Frost's obnoxious gum chewing habit.

She stood up, "When was the last time your prescription was refilled?"

"It wasn't."

"I'll get something for you." With a firm grip on his wrist, she yanked him out of his chair and stormed down the hall to the Med Bay in her socks.

"...Caitlin?"

Frost turned around and snapped, "Is it so hard for you to think I care?"

Cisco blinked as she rummaged through the drawers of the Med Bay, unable to form any words to reply.

Everything was disorganized now, the stethoscope he'd gifted her slung limply over the edge and bags of saline left unopened on the counter. And there was still all the art, reduced from her initial splurge, to lessen Caitlin's financial headache, splattered abstract all over the place. There because he had encouraged her to follow her own wants, explore her own inner-mind. And her framed masterpiece, the Princess Bubblegum copyright infringement in its 2HB graphite glory in the middle of it all.

Without any finesse, Killer Frost broke the lock to Caitlin's drug cabinet, and dug through the array of medications until she found an orange capsule bottle.

"Take two now. It's all I have left. I guess Caitlin would normally keep them in stock." She ripped off another sheet from Caitlin's memo pad and feigned her signature. "Get Kamilla to go to the pharmacy and don't skip out on their instructions. Okay?"

Without the echoing voice or attitude mixed with the medical jargon, it was like she was really there.

Cisco swallowed the lump down his throat, unable to explain the sudden prickle behind his eyes. "Okay," he whispered.

Killer Frost crossed her arms. "Just say it."

"No." There was nothing to say. It's a trap. If he tells her how much he misses Caitlin she'd simply use it against him.

Her mouth pulled back tightly. "So you can give advice but can't take it?"

Cisco twisted the child's lock on the bottle and unscrewed the cap, popping two pills immediately. He made a weird face as he washed it down with a cup from the sink, frowning deeply at her insinuation. "Excuse me?" He's not the one playing Risk and Monopoly with Caitlin's money and social status.

"Fine," she said. "I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"What you told me to do."

Cisco heaved a tired sigh. "You just need to apologize to Ralph about the boxers and--"

"You're a coward who's given up on what you want with your life--"

"--Wait."

"No--"

"Frost--"

"--No. You're dating a girl you have no feelings for because you think it's safer than falling for someone who might hurt you again and you're sitting every day in that little workshop of yours fiddling on toys you don't really care about because you don't get the chance to use them yourself."

Cisco gawked.

"You're not as nice as you think you are, you're bitter and mean, and yeah you yell, like a lot. You're rolling your eyes behind everyone's back and then mutter like we're the stupid ones. At least we're not running away from all our problems."

"Frost--"

"And you're not happy. You're not happy. It's not fooling anyone. Wake up."

Godforsaken seconds dragged on like scraped skin against asphalt. Cisco wasn't sure how long they stood across the room from each other in tense silence.

Her demeanour was cool, neutral. Infuriating.

Cisco didn't know how to feel, the weight of the words still ringing in his ears. He fumbled, trying to find ammunition to fire back, anything to defend against the empty dignity Killer Frost just pulled under him like a rug.

His vocabulary went blank, his brain numb, and when he opened his mouth nothing came out—Nothing. Nothing. Empty.

The clock on the wall ticked, and Frost snapped her gum.

"Why would you say that?" The burning sensation behind his eyes returned, threatening with a pressing force.

Finally she lifted her heated stare, scoffing in her trademark manner. With a flip of her hair, she closed the lights off on him still in the room. Her Caitlin voice carried from down the hall only an increment softer. "Why do you think?"

#the flash #the flash fanfiction #killervibe #cisco ramon #killer frost #tkv fic #s6 #6x02 #angst #character study #honestly its rough

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