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ars-matron · 11 months ago

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The Last Sun Reread: Chapters 11

Chapter 11: Addam Saint Nicholas

Rune and Addam have to slip out of the cell before the Opendoor spell fizzles out. Their dash to freedom is derailed for a moment, though, by the appearance of a small skeleton army.

Addam throws his stick at the door, Rune thinks it's a panic response, but the stick activates the door's trap, and destroys the closest skeletons. There are still several standing, so Rune uses his shatter spell to take them out. This is when Addam starts calling Rune 'hero' instead of asking for his name or anything. But he's obviously flirting so, it's cool

"He gave me a smile. "I am unaccustomed to being upstaged by a proper hero. That was very good spellwork." He winked, turned and retreated. "This way, Hero."

Addam leads him to 'secret exit', they have to pass through a torture chamber to get there. But the exit is just a dark, creepy tunnel that leads underground. So Rune uses his teleportation to get them out. They are instantly. But Ciaran is already out by the car waiting for them.

Rune calls Brand to let him know that he's fine, he has Addam and he'll be home in a few hours after he's seen Addam to someplace safe. Brand doesn't think it's safe, "dead man" is still out there, still functional if he's sending skeletons. Rune thinks he'll be fine. A very angry Brand says he made cookies, when Rune asks what flavor he hangs up.

In the car, Addam sits in the back and Rune put front. Ciaran wants Rune to call the Tower right then. Addam thinks there isn't much they can tell him. He certainly doesn't know what happened. While they drive Rune's phone buzzes and it's Brand. He starts drilling Rune about safe routes to there destination and Rune realizes that he must be right behind them.

He is. On he motorcycle. He's upset that Addam isn't taking point and looking out the windows. Addam, who can hear the whole conversation starts doing so. Rune looks out from and to the right Addam out the back and to the left. This also means that Addam heard it when Brand called Rune by his name.

Addam has a condo in Edgemere. When they arrive Ciaran leaves to go tell the Tower everything that's going on, and Brand and Rune follow Addam up to his condo. Addam asks if Brand would be more comfortable waiting outside and Brand delicately rips him a new one. Addam learns that Rune and Brand have a slightly different relationship than most bonded companions.

Brand and Rune walk through the apartment to look for anything amiss, and ask Addam about who has access to the condo. He management, in case of emergencies. Lilly, and his family. Not his co-workers though. Addam is under the impression that Rune is working for his mother, Rune tells him that it's actually the Tower who hired him. and Brand takes the opportunity to try to get a hold of the Tower's companion, Mayan.

Rune tells Addam about Quinn and he gets very emotional. Calling the hospital and getting information about Quinn, where he is, how he's doing. Afterwards he rushes to his computer. Because sometimes Quinn will leave him an email if something bad is going to happen. There are two emails.

"It says, 'Most of the time I'm okay. don't worry about me. It's after you.'" and "He sent it right after the first. It said, 'No, it's after him now.'"

Addam goes off to shower before they do anything else. Rune goes after Addam who is just kinda standing around dazed. Rune tries to make him feel better by pointing out that Quinn is coming to people in their sleep, which has to count for something. He's still having trouble believing that something was targeting him and not his mother. He offers to repay Rune by showering together and Rune leaves. Very fast.

Back in the main room Rune finds a bunch of searches on Addams computer on tourist info on Brazil. The portal stations don't check the IDs of people leaving New Atlantis. whoever set this up wanted it to look like Addam had left for Brazil and just didn't tell anyone. And since his co-workers didn't have access to his condo, it was either Lilly or a family member.

Addam realizes this means they were probably going to kill him. They weren't going to ransom him, they weren't just going to wait around until they got what they wanted and let him. They were planning his complete disappearance. He tells Rune to follow him to the bedroom and takes out a belt full of sigils. Rune asks him whats on there and it's mostly telekinetic spells. Addam says that Rune is no longer working for the Tower, but for him. Addam wants to find out who is doing all this.

Rune agrees that they'll go to the hospital before heading to the Tower's..ugh, tower. It isn't far to the hospital so they walk. And Rune and Brand spend the whole time trying to get Addam to accept that someone close to him has done this. To think of reasons why someone would. While Addam shows that he doesn't must like Ella and her choices, he still thinks that she likes him. He absolutely refuses to entertain the idea that Quinn was involved.

Addam tells Rune that he raised Quinn. That his mother didn't have time to take care of baby, and Addam was old enough to do it by then. Addam talks about living in Russia during the unsettlement. Which was in the 60s. SO he''s....60ish? Which means he was about 45ish when Quinn was born. I certainly hope that was old enough to take care of a baby.

At the hospital Rune leaves Addam in Quinn's room. Brand pretends to examine a vending machine and Rune paces before a large window. Then Micheal Saint Talbot, looking disheveled, steps out of the stairwell. He's very unhappy to see Rune. He threatens him a bit, saying he and his business partners can take care of Addam's disappearance. He nearly threatens to dual Rune, which Brand thinks is hilarious.

It is

Then in a tiff, Micheal says this.

"Who do you think you are? You're nothing. You're hired help. Neither of you are anything. You think playing detective makes you important again?"

I get technically they are all princes and the Lords are all Kings, but this is...interesting. Important again. Was the Sun Throne exceptionally important? We don't really see much before it fell.

A rumpled Ella Saint Nicholas steps out of the elevator and Rune connects the dots. Micheal nearly attacks then, but sees Brand holding a knife and decides to just leave. They go to confront Ella.

She claims that she was there to check on Christian. That her aunt is nearby. She denies even knowing who Micheal is. Exceptionally unlikely. She gets a bit mad when they point out that she has another brother in the hospital she could be checking in on. And then Addam is there.

She instantly starts fake crying, acting beside herself until Addam learns that she not only wasn't going to visit Quinn, she had been there with Micheal. She cries for real and rushes out of the hospital. Getting the security to hold Rune and Addam up so they can't follow her.

Chapter 12: South Street Bridge

Brand herds Rune and Addam into the hospital's public Sanctum. Which isn't great, but at least they can refill some of their sigils. Rune sits and meditates while Addam dances. Once he's finished Rune watches Addam dance. Brand watches Rune watching Addam.

Rune likes men who dance.

Brand ties to get Addam to understand while Ella and Micheal being in a relationship is a big deal. He's still reluctant to see it as anything but some budding rebellion from her. Something she does on her own without their aunt knowing. Like going on shopping trips alone, or visiting the Westlands. Which is definitely a red flag for Rune and Brand, but Addam is so so trusting.

I looks like Brand might be ready to spell it out for him, but then the Tower pulls Rune into a memory.

They are on a very old Spanish ship, the Tower is dressed like Navel Officer and looks a lot younger than Rune has ever seen him. The Tower then tells him about this particular expedition of his...youth? That it was just some exploration or the Amazon, until they came across a village being tormented by a lich. The Tower was able to kill the lich in the end, but not without days of magical prep and the decimation of the village and probably a lot of forest around it. He tells Rune to come to him, and then pushes him from the dream.

The three of them start walking towards the Pac Bell, Rune doesn't tell Brand or Addam what the Tower said about the lich, not wanting to worry them before they are somewhere safe. Brand, however, knows something is up and asks, though Rune doesn't say at first.

They walk along under tunnels of South Bridge, Rune drools over a coffee stand and Addam offers to buy him a coffee. Brand goes to the side to contact Queenie. And Rune confronts Addam about calling him Hero instead of his name.

"Addam, you know who I am. you used my name with Ella." Addam shrugged. "Lord Tower is my godfather. You are his protege. It's not so unlikely I'd know who you are."

There's a snow fea ahead of them, from Russia, and that gets them talking about Irkutsk, which is where Addam is technically from.

"Quinn has only briefly lived outside the city. I was born in Irkutsk, and lived there for many years while New Atlantis was built. My older brother Christian sounds like me."

Again, we don't get actual dates or anything, but he's got to be nearly twice as old as Rune and Brand.

Talking about Christian leads back to Ella and how she might have made him sick and helped in Addam's kidnapping. Brand startles them, and is mad that Rune is so tired he didn't even notice. Rune orders while Addam and Brand give each other looks, and Addam asks about Brand saying that Ella and Micheal being together makes sense. Though he's still insisting that she is easily misguided and wouldn't be able to do anything sinister on her own.

Rune points out that the whole catch to this situation was why would anyone from inside of Moral Confidence, Addam's company, want to take him out if it meant they would lose his connections and court influence. Well, with his sister dating one of the owners of the company they wouldn't.

Everything really points to it being Micheal and Ella all the way. Micheal wanted to take the company into more riskier directions, Ella wanted to rebel. Rune says.

"For what it's worth, I really wanted it to be Ashton. He's such a douche." "Ashton isn't nearly as indolent as he pretends," Addam said. His eyes lit as if this a better alternative. "Lord Strength is a stern man. He made Aston train at a Wasteland camp. Ashton knows how to hurt perople-he knows strategy."

OOOOOH!! Oh man! I just had a thought!!! I just a THOUGHT!! Okay, at the end, when Rune and Ashton have their little chit chat, he says that Rune ruined his life before. And Rune has no idea what he means. It isn't like a school yard conflict, Rune seems to have no prior knowledge of Ashton. Not like Geoffrey. So what could he have done that ruined Ashton's life? Well, what if it wasn't something he did directly. What if he had to go to the Wastelands to train because of the whole plot against the Sun Throne?!?! Lord Strength has always given me pauses. He does not seem like a good guy. He doesn't do anything about his son and the accusations. Is it because he accepts that his son did awful things, or is it because he can't risk them bringing Ashton's soul back to tell all?

Okay, we'll stew on that and come back to it.

Rune is still very much under that assumption that Ashton sucks at fighting. Brand leads Rune off a bit and asks what the Tower said in his dream/summons and all Rune says is that the Tower thinks Rurik is a mythological monster and tries to blow it off. Addam joins them with Rune's coffee and Instantly the guy in motley Rune thinks is part of the Fool's court drops dead next to them.

I think this is one of the only times we see someone in motley for the Fool's court. In Hourglass Throne and Eidolon they just wear bands of color to show they belong there.

People all around them start dropping dead, the gaurda are running around because people are dying for no reason. Rune has a bad feeling they start for an exit. Eventually Addam and Rune feel a very powerful spell release and spectre pops up.

Spectres are very hard to fight and it takes almost all of Rune's spells to take just one out. But there are four under the bridge so they run for it. Once they are out they see that there is a giant black cloud that is actually a hoard of spectres flying towards them. They run to the Pac Bell. Addam uses his telekinetic powers to push people to safety and obstacles out of their way.

Rune tells Addam to run inside the tower and get help, while he and Brand stand their ground out front. Addam runs inside but the people milling around the Pac Bell come to attention. Everyone forms a circle around Rune and releases a huge, jointly controlled, Bless-fire spell. Brand, however, is outside the protection.

When the woman in front of Rune won't let him pass to get Brand, Rune's aspect emerges. Stronger than it's ever been. His eyes are on fire. He's able to push her away and grab Brand, pulling him back inside the protective barrier just as the spectres are on them.

During the battle the flesh on one of Rune's arms was mangled, he's now fighting massive blood loss and exhaustion. When Rune admits he needs a nap Brand pulls out an oatmeal raisin cookie for him. The Pac Bell unlocks and they are able to go inside.

And that's the end of that chapter. I'm going to go think about some things. Until next time!

#ttsrr #the tarot sequence #the last sun #rune saint john #brandon saint john #addam saint nicholas

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alj4890 · 3 years ago

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Hello dear! I have an ask I just recently read TRH book 1 what if we get Liams POV when Riley goes into labor and when he has to make that awful decision. What are his thoughts when Riley passes out and there’s no doctor? Maybe we can find out how they got the door open?

I replayed TRH book 1 & 2 recently, so this ask couldn't have come at a better time 😂. I wonder though if anyone else thinks it was odd that Godfrey was put in charge of installing new security at the Palace. I mean, why wasn't Liam and his King's Guards handling that? I don't know, but those chapters of Riley giving birth are some that hurt me, and only because the poor woman is denied an epidural 😂 I would have Godfrey strung up by his thumbs for causing that and allow Olivia to torture him to her heart's content. But enough of my revenge ideas, let's see what I can do with this for you.

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms

Masterlist

The Decision

It was too much to comprehend.

One moment, Liam was confronting the man who killed his mother and the next was nothing but chaos and darkness.

Screams rent the air as flashing red lights revealed steel enforced doors dropping down over the ballroom's doors and windows.

Liam knelt beside his wife when he realized she had been knocked down by a panicking guest.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Only my pride." She tried to smile but a painful tightening around her middle struck.

Her eyes widened when she felt a wetness between her legs.

"Liam!" She gripped his arm. "My water broke!"

"What?" He searched through the crowd for their friends. "Now?"

She nodded while breathing through another contraction. "We have to get to the hospital."

"We will." He helped her up. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable while we get a door open."

"Liam!" Riley doubled over. "I don't want to have our baby in a ballroom filled with people."

"Is there a problem?"

The couple stiffened when they heard Isabella's voice. Her husband Bradshaw smiled at them.

"Our guards would be more than happy to help with the door situation," his smile held a hint of smugness, "as long as your child is betrothed to one of our twins."

Olivia arrived at that moment followed by their other friends.

"Are you saying your guards won't help rescue you without a betrothal?"

"We're in no immediate danger." Bradshaw explained.

"In fact, we're quite comfortable waiting for your pitiful little guards to find a way out." Isabelle added. "No need for us to cross international lines and damage delicate feelings with our more than capable personnel."

"Delicate!" Olivia heaved a deep breath. "We don't need your help to get out of this."

"We don't?" Maxwell asked. He let out an oomph when Olivia elbowed him. "I mean, yeah we don't! This isn't the first time we have been faced with a challenge."

"No steel door will ever convince us that their baby should be forced to be with one of your twins." Drake added.

Olivia beamed at him before turning her fury on the visiting monarchs. "I'll have it opened in no time."

"Yeah!" Maxwell cheered. "Go Nevarkis Ingenuity!"

She rolled her eyes while going to examine the metal door that covered the double doors into the ballroom.

"Oh!" Riley eased back down into a chair. She raised her eyes to Liam's. "They're getting stronger."

He gently rubbed her back. "Have you had any pains this evening?"

"It was all in my back. I thought it was from being on my feet most of the night." She took deep breaths to calm down. "But now--"

The flashing red lights and alarm stopped. The couple turned to see a proud Olivia slip a strange looking quartz bladed dagger back into a garter under her dress.

There was a square shaped hole cut within the wall with numerous wires exposed.

"That's going to be difficult to repair." Maxwell muttered.

Liam could not have cared less about the damage. If Olivia wanted to tunnel underground to get them out, then he would gladly rip up the marble tiles himself.

Riley cried out as a strong contraction struck.

"I need a distraction!" She puffed through the pain.

"How about some music?" Hana asked. "I composed a new piece recently."

"Or we could sing." Maxwell offered. "Any song you'd like."

"We could?" Drake shook his head. "Sorry Brooks, but that's not happening."

"You would deny her a song when she's in labor?" Maxwell's jaw dropped.

"I doubt our singing would help her any." Drake replied. "Might even double her pain."

While his friends bickered, Liam found his thoughts drifting back to the secret chamber they had unearthed less than an hour ago. He slipped his hand into his breast pocket to touch the letter he had discovered.

His mother's words about how much joy he had brought her echoed in his heart. He wished she could have lived to see the type of man he had become. He had tried with everything within him to live up to her expectations. Would she have noticed? What would she think of him as king now? What would her opinion have been on this choice he and Riley were given for an arranged marriage for her grandchild? Would she approve of them wanting to give their baby the right to choose his or her own spouse?

He wished he knew. He wished she was here guiding him in not only capturing her killer but in also knowing what to do for his wife and unborn child. He would have given anything to have her wise counsel once more.

"Hana!" Riley yelled to stop the argument between her three friends. "Please play whatever you like." She glared at Drake. "Someone's voice is getting on my nerves."

Hana hurried over to a piano and began to play a soothing song.

"I'm going to check on the door situation." Liam pressed a kiss to Riley's cheek. "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Hurry, please." She pleaded.

"I'll watch over her." Maxwell promised.

"I'll go check on the door with you." Drake added.

Liam made his way through the crowd, pausing here and there to reassure everyone that they would be out soon.

"Give me a boost." Olivia ordered.

Drake squatted down and linked his fingers together.

Olivia slipped her heels off and placed her foot in his grasp.

"One...two..." He heaved her up in the air, "three!"

Olivia steadied herself and quickly studied the mechanism that had allowed the door to drop. A lock had formed thus causing them to be unable to lift it up.

After poking and prodding with one of her stilettoes, she noticed the thin metal holding the lock in place.

"Bring me down." She ordered.

Drake grunted as he brought her back down. "Next time, stand on my shoulders."

"Did you figure out how to get it open?" Liam asked.

"I think I might be able to weaken the lock with heat and one of my daggers. Once we destroy that, we should be able to lift it." She explained.

"Can't we hotwire it?' Drake asked, gesturing toward the exposed wires.

"Not since I had to cut so many to get the alarms to turn off." She remarked. "I wouldn't be surprised if there is some emergency failsafe in place for an enemy's attack on the wiring. It might even drop another door on us."

Liam ran his hands over his face. "Do whatever you can to get us out of here."

"Good." Olivia nodded towards the bar. "Drake, we will start with the brandy to use for fuel."

Liam shook his head at her plan to start a fire of sorts. He hoped she didn't end up hurting herself in the process. Honestly though, he couldn't seem to focus on what he could do to help get the doors open.

"Your majesty! I don't think I can breathe in here another second!" Penelope grasped his arm while hyperventilating. "I don't do well in enclosed spaces."

"When will we get out of here?" Another noble demanded.

Questions began to be thrown at him as the crowd closed in a circle, trapping him directly in the middle.

"Is Olivia trying to burn us up in here?"

"We're going to die!"

"What are the guards doing to save us?"

"Auvernal's guards will have us out in minutes, if your king agrees." Bradshaw yelled out over the crowd. His smile was the final straw to break Liam's barely restrained temper.

"Enough!" Liam roared. "We are not going to die in here. The guards are doing all they can and Olivia is graciously assisting." His eyes zeroed in on Penelope. "Go sit down to try and calm your breathing. You're in the same ballroom you have danced in for years." He then turned to Auvernal's king. "As for your assistance, it isn't needed at this time."

Bradshaw shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, but his eyes held a deep seeded anger as he looked upon Liam. "If you think your guests wouldn't prefer to get out of here as quickly as they can, then I suppose there is little we can do."

Murmurs rose once more around him. Liam clinched his fists then pushed his way through when he heard Riley call out for him.

Will this night never end?

It was becoming too much for him. The whining of his people, his wife in pain and in need of medical care, his own innate need to chase after Godfrey and make him pay for poisoning his mother...he needed it all to stop for a minute to allow him to think.

"Liam!" Riley had tears falling down her cheeks. "We need to go to the hospital now!"

She gripped his hand as Hana finished the last few notes to her song.

He knelt before her chair. "Olivia has found a way to open the door. We'll soon have you out of here and--"

The sound of metal screeching had everyone turning toward the double doors.

Seeing the steel door go up caused Liam to scoop his wife in his arms and rush toward the exit.

Their friends and guests spilled out after them to only stop short.

Godfrey had installed these same safety measures on every window and exterior door along the first floor.

"Liam?" Riley puffed through another contraction. "What are we going to do?"

"I found a way out of there." Olivia boasted. "I'm certain I can--"

Bradshaw clucked his tongue. "This isn't the same type of door, your grace." He smirked at her. He knocked against the thicker steel door. "My guards could find a way outside to open it, but only if you sign this."

He produced a betrothal contract.

Riley whimpered as she looked at it and then her husband.

"Get. That. Out. Of. My. Face." Liam ordered.

He turned on his heel to take his wife upstairs to their chambers. Once he reached the first step he spoke over his shoulder. "Olivia, we trust you to handle this. Hana, please call Riley's doctor and ask her to meet us here instead of the hospital."

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

The hours dragged on as they waited. Olivia appeared periodically to vent her frustrations with getting the door to open. Drake, Maxwell, and Hana attempted to keep Riley's spirits up as she endured the ever increasing contractions.

Liam felt absolutely useless. He didn't know what to do to help his wife. He didn't know the first thing of helping a woman give birth. What if there was a complication? What about their child? What if he couldn't clear the baby's airways? What if--"

"Liam?"

He focused on Riley, weakly gripping his hand. "Yes, my love? What can I do?"

"I feel...odd."

Maxwell nudged Liam out of the way to check her blood pressure.

"Where did you find a blood pressure kit?" Drake asked.

"I know it's hard to believe, but Bertrand has high blood pressure." Maxwell winked at his friends. "I can't imagine where his source of stress comes from."

Riley tried to smile at his teasing. She could feel whatever it was pulling her under making every movement feel like it she was wading through quicksand.

Maxwell's smile disappeared. He studied Riley's flushed cheeks and stepped back.

"What is it?" Liam whispered as his friend pulled him away from her bed.

"Her blood pressure is really high right now." Maxwell glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know if that's normal for a woman in labor, but I do know that this is when I would be calling an ambulance if it was Bertrand with this reading."

Liam rubbed his hands over his face. This entire night was one nightmare after another.

"Riley?" Hana shook her by the shoulders. "Riley?!"

Liam rushed back to the bed to see his wife passed out. He took a cold rag and wiped her face, hoping it would bring her back to them.

"Riley?" His voice cracked. "Please, wake up." He looked around at their friends. "What should I do?"

"I don't know." Drake draped his arm along Hana's shoulders when she began to softly cry.

"Keep talking to her." Maxwell jogged out the room. "I'll see about the door!"

Liam turned back toward Riley. He placed his hand on her stomach and could feel the tightening of contractions along with the faint movements of their child.

Riley opened her eyes.

Liam gently cupped her cheek.

"What happened?" She asked.

"You blacked out." He explained. "Your blood pressure--"

Maxwell returned with a frustrated Olivia.

"...short of dynamite, I don't know how I'll--" she stilled when she saw the color drain from Riley's face.

"I think it's happening..." Riley became unconscious once more. Her head dropped back on the pillows.

"We have to get that doctor here now." Liam looked up at Hana. "Any word from her?"

"She is right outside." Hana explained. "And so are Auvernal's guards."

Liam took off out of the room. His long, deliberate strides had him at the balcony overlooking the entryway where the Auvernal monarchs stood talking to some of the guests.

His friends had to nearly run to catch up with him.

Bradshaw looked up and curved his lips. "Trouble, King Liam?"

Isabella snickered. "I hope Queen Riley isn't suffering unnecessarily."

Liam launched himself at the smug king when he brought up the severe pain Riley must be in at this moment.

Shouts from his friends, guests, and the King's Guards drowned out him telling Auvernal's monarch to have his guards break down the door.

"No." Bradshaw's easy smile grew into an evil smirk. "I don't see any reason to have my men do anything like that to help a woman who isn't a part of my country nor one who wishes to ally herself with mine."

"You bastard!" Liam jerked his arm back. His fist formed as he prepared to beat this man within an inch of his life for denying his Riley a doctor.

It took Drake, Maxwell, and Bastien to hold him back from starting a war with Auvernal with a single punch. Olivia and Hana got between the two kings while Isabella merely looked on in glee.

"My wife and child are going to die if I don't get that doctor in here now!" Liam shouted. "And you stand there refusing to--"

"Not refusing!" Bradshaw snapped. "I'm trying to help you." He snapped his fingers and was handed the engagement contract by a nearby Auvernal guard. "Sign this and my men will have your doctor in here within five minutes."

Liam felt all the adrenaline that had rushed through his veins when he tried to punch the man leave his body. He felt not only weak but utterly worthless. He couldn't see any way out of this. He couldn't lose his wife. He couldn't lose the child they had eagerly waited for.

He couldn't get the damn door open without the very people he had grown to loathe these past nine months.

"Liam," Olivia whispered, "it's the only option we have now."

"We'll find a way to break it." Maxwell whispered.

"Yeah," Drake patted his shoulder. "Right now, you need to just accept the deal to get Brooks and the baby some help."

Liam glanced over at Hana to get her advice.

Tears filled her eyes. "I--I know this isn't what you want, but we have no choice."

Liam swallowed and snatched the paper from Bradshaw's hand. He signed the cursed document and tossed it in his face.

"There! Now get that doctor in here before it becomes null and void."

Bradshaw quickly gave the orders for his guards outside to break down the door with a battering ram.

In three minutes, Dr. Ramirez was following Liam up to the royal chambers.

She helped rouse Riley and then guided her through the delivery.

Liam watched in awe as his wife produced the most perfect baby girl he had ever seen.

Tears of joy and immense relief trickled down his cheeks as he held his daughter for the first time.

"I think we should name her Eleanor," Riley said, watching him kiss their little one's forehead, "in honor of your mother."

His eyes practically glowed as he looked upon his wife. "Thank you, my love."

She snuggled her head on his shoulder as they both gazed down at their own miracle.

Liam knew he needed to tell Riley what had happened with Auvernal yet he didn't want to ruin this first moment of them as a family.

He silently vowed as he held his daughter that he would somehow find a way to save her from an arranged marriage.

#choices the royal heir #king liam #liam x riley #trr drake walker #trr olivia #trr maxwell #trr hana lee #choices trh

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sugarandspace · 3 years ago

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Don't Fall in Love There's Just Too Much to Lose (Buddie)

Summary: Eddie's rescue, the aftermath, and a hell of a lot of feelings.

Warnings: near-death experience

A/N: I started this fic in March. It was supposed to be just a short 2k thing but then it kept growing and growing and Buck just wouldn't stop thinking. Then uni got in the way of writing, then work and my million other WIPs. Special shoutout to my friends Spark and Emryn who have patiently listened to me talk about this fic and who have always been so encouraging! Not sure if I would have ever actually finished this fic without you two 💙

Title from Terrible Things by Mayday Parade!

AO3

They are standing around the map just like they were a few hours earlier, trying to find clues of potential tunnels underground. It’s so much like earlier, but at the same time it’s not, because there’s one person missing from around the table and Buck feels that empty space like it’s a physical ache, a feeling he hasn’t been able to shake since he felt the weight leave the rope earlier when Eddie cut it and let himself fall.

“How about there?” Buck asks and points at a part on the map. He ignores the way his voice comes out hoarse but he can’t ignore the bloody mark that stains the white paper. He’s about to pull his hand back but Hen is quicker, taking his hand to hers.

“When did you get hurt?” She asks but he pulls his hand back.

“I’m fine,” he says and turns back towards the table and the people who had stopped talking and had turned their attention to him, “We have more important things to worry about.”

“Buckaroo,” Hen tries, her voice annoyingly gentle. Buck’s heard her use that tone with patients on the field and he hates that Hen thinks he’s fragile enough to need that tone.

“I said I’m fine!” Buck repeats. He hates to raise his voice at Hen but he needs her to remember that it’s not him they need to worry about. Everyone’s attention should be on Eddie and how to get him safely back because Buck refuses to think about anything else being a possibility.

“Fine,” Hen agrees. “But as soon as we have a plan you’re following me to the bathroom where I’m going to clean and wrap your hands.”

Buck gives her a tense nod, knowing that he can’t escape it and needing the conversation to end as soon as possible so that they can go back to planning.

They do, and they talk about thermal cameras and searching the surrounding area in hopes of finding another well. Buck’s hands curl into fists and he focuses on the feeling of grains of sand stinging in the broken skin of his fingertips, clinging to the moment of clarity it gives to his mind. The moment he lets them wander his thoughts go to what-ifs and Christopher and the pressure of tons of wet sand and the damage it can do to a fragile human body and he can’t afford that now.

He focuses on his turnout gear, his coat wet and heavy, trying to weigh his shoulders down. He squares his shoulders and ignores the way his shirt clings to his back from where the water has dripped down past the collar of his coat. He’s a professional and they have work to do.

-.-.-

When the rest of the team disperses to get everything ready, Hen makes sure of her promise and drags Buck to the downstairs bathroom. It looks clean and Buck feels sorry for being there, his clothes no doubt leaving mud all over the white tile. Hen doesn’t seem to have any problem with that, and she puts the small medkit she was carrying on the counter next to the sink.

“Now let me see those hands,” she says as she pulls a pair of gloves on.

Buck knows it’s useless to argue, so he puts his hands in front of himself, palms up so Hen can see the extent of the damage. There’s sand under his nails, one of his already short nails has broken, and the skin of his fingertips is rubbed raw. Back when he was frantically trying to dig Eddie from the ground with his bare hands, he hadn’t paid attention to how hard he was pressing against the rough ground and how the small rocks had broken the skin of his ungloved hands. The pain hadn’t even registered then, his mind too occupied with panic.

“Okay,” Hen says and guides the hands under the faucet, using warm water to wash the sand away. “The cuts don’t look deep, so I’m going to clean them and wrap them so we can go back to helping Eddie.”

“I can do it myself,” Buck says. He knows that there’s little they can do until the thermal cameras are ready, but he hates to hold Hen here when she would be more needed out there.

Hen makes a noncommittal noise and continues washing Buck’s hands, and Buck doesn’t fight her.

“How are you feeling?” Hen asks, and really, Buck should have expected this.

“I’m fine,” he says, a familiar line to leave his lips. “I can barely feel them.”

“I didn’t mean your hands, Buck,” Hen says kindly. “I know how much he means to you.”

No, you don’t, Buck wants to say. No one knows, and while he used to be happy about being able to keep it a secret, the thought that Eddie might never get to know it now kills him. While a big part of Buck’s mind has always been convinced that it could never happen, that telling Eddie would just mean making their friendship weird, there’s also always been this tiny part of his heart that is optimistic, that thinks that his feelings could be reciprocated. Maybe, just maybe the small things that hint towards it haven’t just been Buck seeing things where there’s nonthing to be seen. Maybe they’ve been more.

Now he fears that in his attempt to guard that part of his heart, he might have missed out on something wonderful.

He bites the inside of his cheek so as not to fall apart. The situation doesn’t allow him to be anything but fine.

“He’s my best friend,” Buck says, wincing a little as Hen dries his hands and the paper towel brushes against the small wounds. “He’s my partner and it’s my job to have his back when we’re on the field.”

It’s quiet for a while, save for the small hiss Buck lets out when Hen disinfects the wounds.

“Eddie cut that rope himself,” Hen reminds him as she starts wrapping his hands. She places small gauze swabs against his fingertips and secures them to place with a roll of gauze. Buck is aware that his fingers start to resemble that of a mummy’s, but when the thought would usually have led to jokes, it doesn’t even bring a smile to his lips now. “He did it to be able to save that small boy. Because that’s what he’s like. You know what else he’s like? He’s tough, and I know he’ll do his best to get back.”

Buck doesn’t trust his voice, so he nods. Hen must sense that Buck’s not up for more talking because they spend the rest of the time it takes for her to wrap his hands in comfortable silence.

“I want you to keep these on the rest of the time we’re working outside,” Hen says and hands her own work gloves to Buck. To be fair, Buck has no idea where he’s left his own pair. “We can’t have the dressings getting wet or dirty.”

Buck thanks her quietly and pulls the gloves on, careful not to pull the gauze away. When he’s done Hen pats him on the shoulder.

“Let’s go find Eddie.”

-.-.-

Buck’s mind is somber as he stands outside, listening to Bobby brief everyone on what they are going to do. He already knows his task and can’t help but let his mind wander to how Eddie might be right below them as they speak and if he is, what state he’s in. Buck ignores the thoughts of him laying there motionless and focuses on breathing deeply as he thinks of how they are going to find him and how Hen and Chimney are going to help him with whatever injuries he might have sustained while down there. He doesn’t let himself feel anything but determination.

He feels all his breath leave his body when he hears a familiar voice and sees Eddie stumbling into their circle. He’s by his side in an instant, helping him stay upright as he struggles to walk.

There are so many words Buck wants to say to Eddie, a ‘I love you so much never do that to me again' on the forefront of his mind, ready to leave his lips any minute he stops paying attention to where they are and how there are a million reasons he shouldn’t. It’s just that Eddie is there and Buck is holding his hand and while the hand is cold the fingers are squeezing Buck’s hand back with a sure grip.

Eddie is safe and making jokes about having an important meeting on Friday and Buck feels like he could cry as he and Hen help Eddie to the ambulance where Chimney is already waiting for them.

Buck gives them space as Eddie sits down and Hen and Chimney start checking him over, giving him a once-over before they need to bring him to the hospital for a more thorough check. They don’t know what Eddie went through under there but Buck can see that there are some scrapes on his face, his eyes look irritated from the water, and he’s sopping wet, which indicates that at some point Eddie has been completely underwater.

Buck keeps cataloging the injuries he can see and he doesn’t even notice Bobby coming up next to him.

“Go,” Bobby says and nudges him towards the ambulance where Hen and Chim are helping Eddie out of the harness and the red protective gear, leaving him in his uniform that looks to be mostly dry. Next, they help him lay down on the gurney so that they can get to the hospital.

There’s no force on this earth that could keep Buck from following Eddie to the hospital right now, but he doesn’t stop to tell Bobby that. He climbs into the ambulance next to Chimney who’s working on hooking Eddie to oxygen as Bobby tells them he’s going to meet them at the hospital once everything is done at the scene. After all, their shift was supposed to be over nearly two hours ago, but the prolonged rescue had resulted in all of them staying longer. Hen is in the passenger seat while another member of 118 is driving, probably having been tasked to drive the ambulance back to the station after, so that all three of them could stay with Eddie.

Eddie should have been home an hour ago. They hadn’t needed to inform any of Eddie’s family yet since Christopher was going to spend the night with Abuela because it was a school night and it would have been too late for Eddie to pick him up after his shift. No one knows what he went through tonight. They don’t know how a relatively normal shift turned out to be a nightmare.

And Buck is glad for that since he wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.

Buck wonders if he should inform them now, but he decides to wait until he knows what to tell. Eddie is awake and cracking jokes but there’s no telling of the damage that could have happened when he was underground.

Things like internal bleeding, secondary drowning, and head trauma go through his mind and Buck curses the medical knowledge he has. He wants so hard to focus on the fact that Eddie is here and he’s alive and things look good for the first time in hours.

“Keep him awake,” Chimney says and brings Buck out of his spiraling thoughts. Buck looks at him and nods, watching as Chimney turns away to do something before Buck looks at Eddie and tries to start a conversation.

“Come on dude, you know the drill,” Buck says to Eddie as his eyes keep trying to drop closed. “No sleeping in the ambulance.”

“I must admit,” Eddie starts, his voice a little slurred. Buck doesn’t know if it’s because he’s so tired or because he’s so cold, maybe a mix of both, but nevertheless he tucks the shock blanket a little tighter around Eddie and places his hand on top of the blanket, over Eddie’s arm, hoping that even a bit of the warmth seeps into his skin through the blanket. “Now I understand why the patients are always so tempted.”

“Yeah well,” Buck starts, trying to keep his tone light and joking. It seems to be what Eddie needs right now, and Buck would do anything to make him feel even a little bit better. “Tempting or not, you’re not allowed. You’ll have plenty of time to nap later when you’re home.”

A small smile appears on Eddie’s face, softer than it should be among all the cuts and dirt.

“Yeah,” he breathes out so quietly Buck can barely hear it through the oxygen mask he’s wearing. “Home.”

The rest of the ride to the hospital follows a similar pattern of Buck saying whatever lighthearted nonsense comes to his mind and Eddie attempting to respond, his eyes trying to close against his will.

Everything is looking better now, but the weight on Buck’s chest is not letting up. If anything, it gets ten times heavier when they roll Eddie out of the ambulance and the ER staff takes over. With Eddie out of his sight, it feels difficult to assure himself that he’s fine and Buck finds himself frozen on his spot outside of the ER doors, even when Hen appears next to him and Chimney and the ambulance leaves back to the station.

“Come on,” Chimney says. “Let’s go to the waiting room.”

-.-.-

“How fucked up is it that I’ve been to this waiting room so many times that I have a favorite seat?” Chimney says after a while of silence. “You guys really need to stop injuring yourselves so often or they are going to name a ward after our team.”

“Do you think you have any right to complain?” Hen says from his side where they are sitting next to the window. It’s late so there’s not much to be seen outside, save from the lights on the hospital parking lot. “I think out of this team I’m the one who gets the rights to complain about everyone being hurt. How many times have you been here to see me in the past two years? A round zero. And I can clearly remember you nearly dying twice during that time mister rebar-through-a-brain and multiple-stabbing-wounds.”

“At least I’m not as bad as Buck,” Chimney tries to argue.

It’s dark humor, but they know each other and know that it’s sometimes needed. They’ve been through a lot, and sometimes it’s better to laugh and joke about the times when they were seriously injured, in hopes that making light of them strips away some of the fear and worry that lingers.

Buck knows that at some point they will laugh at the fact that Eddie’s injury makes Hen the only one out of their team they haven’t visited in the hospital yet, but right now the fear is still too fresh, the uncertainty of the situation making them too afraid to joke about Eddie.

Buck knows he’s being uncharastically quiet, but the other two don’t call him out on it. He’s pacing in front of Hen and Chimey’s chairs, impatient to hear what’s going on with Eddie.

The clock on the waiting room wall nears midnight when Bobby joins them. They talk about how the cleanup at the scene went. Buck tunes them out and ignores the concerned glances Bobby keeps giving his way. They make him feel like Bobby knows more than he says, and it makes Buck uncomfortable. He might wear his heart on his sleeve and generally be like an open book, but this is a secret he doesn’t want to get out. It’s a secret that has the power to destroy the friendship he has with Eddie, and Buck would rather spend the rest of his life pining than lose what he has with Eddie. Eddie is his best friend, first one he’s ever had if you don’t count Maddie, and he won’t let his stupid feelings ruin that.

Just a little over an hour ago he had been despairing over the fact that Eddie would never get to know how Buck feels about him, but now that Eddie is safe, when there’s no immediate danger, the idea of telling his best friend that he loves him makes Buck freeze up in fear.

So Buck prays that Bobby doesn’t say anything and he tries his best to keep it together when they wait for news.

Another hour passes until a nurse walks towards them.

“Are you here for Edmundo Diaz?” he asks. He must have already known the answer, considering three of them are still wearing their uniforms, Bobby being the only one who had the opportunity to change to civilian clothes. The only thing Buck has done is take off his gloves and put them in his turnout coat pockets, the coat way too heavy and warm to be worn inside but providing comfort that Buck isn’t willing to let go of just yet as he’s nervously picking at the frayed gauze in his fingers.

“Yes.” Buck is the first to reply, stopping his pacing and walking to the nurse, searching his face for any clue of the news they are going to get. “Is he okay?”

Buck can hear the rest of the team stand up as well, and the nurse looks at them all before answering.

“He’s fine,” he says. “You can follow me to a room where we have him and he can fill you in himself.”

“He’s awake?” Hen asks before Buck has the chance to.

The nurse nods.

“Right this way.”

-.-.-

When they arrive at the room, the doctor is there, talking with Eddie. Eddie looks a little better when his face is no longer smeared with blood, but the hospital gown makes him look small somehow, something Buck didn’t think was possible considering that Eddie is not a small person. The redness of his eyes is even more apparent where he’s sitting up against the white sheets, and his skin looks pale.

“How are you doing Eddie?” Bobby asks as they are all in the room.

“I’m good, Cap,” Eddie replies. “The doctor was just explaining how all my scans came out clear. There’s no liquid in my lungs and even though I’m bruised like a peach, there are no signs of internal bleeding.”

The doctor nods at Eddie’s words and continues,

“Mr. Diaz is understandably tired after everything that happened today and he’s going to feel cold for a little while until his body temperature gets back to normal, but we’re not worried. There are bruises and a couple of small cuts on his face but like he said, there’s no internal bleeding or fractured bones,” she says. “It’s going to take several days of rest before he’s able to get back to work, but there’s nothing stopping him from going home now.”

“That’s great Eddie!” Hen says cheerily and walks to Eddie’s bedside, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Chimney joins her on that side of the bed while Bobby walks on the other, Buck trailing behind him to stand next to him.

“Someone will be over with discharge papers in a little while,” the doctor says before politely excusing herself.

“I brought your bag from the station,” Bobby says and sets the bag down on a chair close to the wall. “Thought you might want to wear something clean.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Eddie says and gives him a genuine smile.

Buck doesn’t know what to say, too overcome with relief after hearing that Eddie really is okay, that there are no hidden injuries waiting to make themselves known. He keeps looking at Eddie, wondering what is acceptable now that they are out of the woods and everything is okay. He really liked holding Eddie’s hand earlier, but taking it now when the urgency of the situation is gone, he’s not sure if he can do it. Would his team think that it’s weird, would Eddie? What would Bobby think, when he apparently already knows something?

Bucks’ head is spinning and it takes a moment for him to realise that someone is saying his name.

“Buck?”

It’s Eddie, and Buck shakes his head to clear his thoughts so he can focus on whatever he’s apparently missed.

“Yeah?”

“What happened to your hands?” Eddie asks, nodding towards Buck’s hands that he has in front of him, his fingers nervously picking at the gauze.

“Nothing,” Buck tries to deny.

“Something happened,” Eddie argues.

“Something dumb,” Buck argues back. He spares a look at the team around them, knowing that everyone else saw how he tried to dig Eddie up with his bare hands. It had been an instinct then, but now, under the bright lights of the hospital room, it feels foolish. He can feel the tips of his ears heat up and he hopes the blush doesn’t spread to his face.

He’s saved from answering when the same nurse from earlier returns with Eddie’s discharge papers, and they leave the room to give Eddie privacy to change his clothes.

-.-.-

“Does anyone else need a ride home?” Bobby asks the people around them as they walk towards the exit. He had offered to drive Eddie home since his truck was still at the station and he’s in no state to drive it home that night.

“Maddie is going to pick me up,” Chimney says. “And Hen is coming with us too since she lives in the same direction.”

“Okay,” Bobby nods. “How about you Buck?”

Buck doesn’t live in the same direction as Chimney and Hen, and even if he did he’d probably come up with an excuse to ride with Bobby, just so he could stay with Eddie for a while longer.

“If it’s not too much trouble?” Buck asks.

“Of course not,” Bobby says. “You two wait at the front, I’m going to get the car here so you don’t need to walk all the way to the parking lot, Eddie.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Eddie says. He’s dressed in his own clothes now, plus an LAFD hoodie that’s doing a pretty poor job at keeping him warm if the shivers running through his body are anything to go by. Buck wishes he could reach for Eddie and hold him close, help keep him warm.

They say their goodbyes to Chimney and Hen, and Buck stays with Eddie near the doors when Bobby goes to get the car. Eddie’s looking better than he did at the scene, but it’s obvious that he’s tired. He might not be stumbling anymore but the relatively short walk from the hospital room to the entrance doors has left him winded, and Buck knows that the reason why he leans against the wall isn’t to look casual.

Buck takes in a deep breath of cool night air through his nose, happy to leave the smell of hospital behind. It’s quiet for a while before Eddie breaks the silence.

“Are you going to tell me about your hands?”

Buck thinks about it. Does he want to tell Eddie? Not particularly. But he’s aware that Eddie will hear about it sooner or later. He’ll hear from someone in the team or he’ll see a news report or an online article of what happened today.

Buck thinks it’s best to get it out of the way now.

“When we first noticed that you were buried under all that dirt,” Buck starts, decidedly staying a couple of steps away from the wall with his back to Eddie, his focus on his hands and the fraying gauze he keeps picking with his wrapped fingertips. “I was terrified?”

He has no idea why he says it like it’s a question. It’s one of the things he’s the most sure about when it comes to the day they’ve had. At that moment he was absolutely terrified that they’d lost Eddie. “I tried to dig you up.”

“With your hands?” Eddie asks, and though there’s no mocking tone Buck feels defensive.

“Told you it was stupid,” he says and kicks a small rock on the ground.

Eddie is quiet after that and Buck fights the urge to turn to look at him because while a part of him is curious to see what kind of expression Eddie might be wearing at the moment, a bigger part is scared to know.

Confusion, pity, and understanding are all things Buck could see there, and he doesn’t know how to react to any of them. It’s safer not to know, better if he can leave this conversation and pretend it never happened and move on.

That’s why when he sees Bobby’s car pull up he pulls the passenger side door open and gets in, focusing on what he can see through the windshield as Eddie climbs into the backseat and Bobby starts driving. Buck tries his best to convince himself that the weight of Eddie’s eyes on the back of his head is completely imaginary.

It’s quiet in the car, save from the music playing low volume on the radio, until Eddie breaks the quiet.

“Could we stop at Abuela’s and get Chris?” Eddie asks, his voice hesitant.

Buck looks at the clock on the car radio and sees it’s nearing 2 AM, which means that Christopher’s bedtime has well and truly passed. The fact that Eddie wants to wake him up and bring him home speaks volumes about what kind of day he’s had. It doesn’t surprise Buck that Eddie wants to be near family now, and Bobby doesn’t question it either. His reply is sure, like there was never another option.

“Of course.”

Eddie calls Abuela then, saving her from details but telling her that something happened at work but that he’s okay now and he’s going to come to pick Christopher up soon.

His words make it seem so simple, like he sprained his ankle or maybe inhaled a little too much smoke, not that he got buried alive and almost died.

Buck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and focuses on the sound of Eddie’s voice.

Eddie is safe, alive, and in the same car as him. If Buck were a braver man he could turn his head and look at Eddie right now, but he’s scared of what Eddie might see on his face if he did, so he keeps facing forward, hoping that the car ride to Abuela’s never ends so that he doesn’t need to go home alone with only his thoughts as company. He doesn’t know what will happen when he can no longer confirm by at least one of his senses that Eddie is okay.

Before long they arrive at Abuela’s and Bobby has barely parked the car before Eddie is getting out of the car.

“You okay, kid?” Bobby asks as they sit in the car and watch as Eddie rushes to the door and Abuela opens it for him, greeting him with a tight hug that must hurt Eddie’s bruised body but that he returns just as tightly.

“Yeah,” Buck says. He watches as Eddie disappears into the house and waves back when Abuela spots him in the car and waves as a greeting.

“It’s okay not to be,” Bobby says. Buck doesn’t know how to reply to that so he stays quiet, and soon they can see Eddie coming out of the house, carrying a very tired-looking but nevertheless awake Christopher in his arms. Abuela trails behind them, carrying Chirstopher’s backpack and crutches.

Buck plasters on a smile as he turns to greet Christopher, not wanting the kid to pick up on his somber mood. He hopes it’s convincing enough to assure Abuela as well.

The ride is quiet and when they arrive at Eddie’s house, Christopher is already back asleep, being none the wiser about what happened to his father earlier that day. Or technically yesterday.

“Do you need help?” Buck asks as he watches Eddie lift Christopher up into his arms, his crutches under his arm and backpack on his back. It looks complicated but there’s an ease to the action that has come by practice - this is hardly the first time Eddie has done this.

“No,” Eddie says. “We’re good. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

They say their goodbyes and watch Eddie walk to the front door and unlock the door, making sure they get inside. When they are safely in the house, Bobby turns to look at Buck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” He asks. Buck turns his eyes away from the kitchen window where a light glow of the living room light could be seen.

“He needs to be with family,” Buck says. “I don’t want to intrude. Besides, I'm really tired and just want to get to my own bed where I can get some sleep. I’ve slept on their couch before and let me tell you, it’s not made for people my height.”

Lie.

Buck wants nothing more than to stay near Eddie, even if it means uncomfortable rest on the too-short couch. Even sleeping there would probably be more restful than a sleep in his own bed will be.

Bobby looks like he wants to argue but he stays quiet, nods a little, and reverses the car from the driveway.

They stay quiet the whole ride to Buck’s apartment and Buck keeps thinking about how much he doesn’t want to go there, but he pushes it back and listens to the music on the radio.

“Thanks for the ride Bobby,” he says as they reach his building.

“No problem,” Bobby says. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will,” Buck says and closes the car door. He waves to Bobby and starts walking towards the doors.

Buck tries to focus on how nice it is to be home after the day he’s had. How nice it will be to shower and get to clean clothes and wash away all the mud that keeps reminding him of earlier. How nice it will be to get to his soft bed and to put this day behind him.

But try as he might, he can’t ignore how empty the apartment is when he finally unlocks his door. It’s dark in there, but he doesn’t want to turn on the lights downstairs. He hangs his turnout coat next to the door and leaves the pants in a heap on the floor. He’ll deal with them tomorrow, will probably drop them by the station so they’ll be clean by the time they have their next shift a day after tomorrow. He heads up to the loft on the light provided by the tall windows and only turns on the light when he reaches his bathroom.

The sight that greets him in the bathroom mirror makes him stop for a moment and stare. There’s mud on his face and on his uniform, despite the turnout gear he’d been wearing when they were outside. There are dark marks under his eyes, and the white gauze at his fingers looks frayed. It looks like he’s had a hellish night, even though he was the one above ground.

He shakes himself back to present at that thought and moves towards the sink to gently peel away the gauze. He wants to shower and having soggy gauze on his fingers isn't going to be good. Besides, as he throws the gauze away and studies his fingers, he sees that they have mostly stopped bleeding, save for the few parts that were pulled open when he took away the gauze.

His shower is quick, the soap in his wounds making him reassess the thought that his wounds had closed, but he pushes through it. He has mud in places where mud should never go and wants it all gone. He wants to wash away those reminders of what happened today, even if he can’t remove them from his head. When he’s done he dries himself and wraps the few fingers that are still bleeding, not wanting any blood on his clothes or sheets. After that he gets dressed in sweats and a tee, going through with his bedtime routine like it’s any other day, instead of one of the most awful days he’s ever had. And it’s saying a lot, because life hasn’t always treated him kindly.

He tries to ignore the thoughts going through his head, thoughts of how close he came of losing Eddie and how Eddie must be feeling right now, of what kind of thoughts are going through his head. Buck doesn’t even know what Eddie really went through down there, and he fears that the reality is just as bad or maybe even worse than the scenarios he has in his head. And in the end it doesn’t matter, because all Buck has are those thoughts, those maybes and what-ifs. But Eddie has the reality, Eddie is the one who almost died, who had to fight his way out of an impossible situation, and who is alone in knowing how it really felt.

All alone.

As Buck sits on the edge of his bed, all ready to go to sleep but for some reason unable to lay down, he makes a decision.

Eddie might want to be with Christopher and to get some rest, but Buck isn’t going to leave him alone. He’s had to be alone too much today. He was alone when the hole collapsed, he was alone when he fought his way back to the surface, he had to be alone in the ER when they did all those tests and scans to determine what kind of damage it all did to his body. He’s had to be alone too much today, and like hell is Buck going to let him be alone right now.

Eddie might not be physically alone, and Buck knows that having Christopher nearby is probably the best kind of comfort Eddie can get right now, but he also knows his friend and knows that he’ll try to act okay for the sake of his son. He won’t let Christopher see him weak, won’t let him know the extent of what happened to him because he doesn’t want Christopher to be afraid.

Eddie nearly died tonight, and he’s allowed to be weak. Is allowed to be scared and vulnerable, and Buck thinks he might need someone to remind him of that. Someone who knows what happened, and someone Eddie doesn’t need to shield.

Buck might not be family, but he’s Eddie’s best friend, and it’s best friend’s job to make sure their friend is okay. He knows that Eddie said that he’s okay, and he knows that the doctors said that he was okay physically, nothing a good rest wouldn’t fix. But Buck also knows what it does to a person to nearly die, and he knows that Eddie is probably the last person to admit that he needs help, or just wants someone to be there.

So Buck makes up his mind, doesn’t even bother to change his clothes, just pulls on a pair of shoes and a hoodie, and leaves the apartment to get to his car that’s in the parking lot. To think that less than 24 hours ago it was just another day where Eddie had picked him up before their shift so they could head in together. It feels like a lifetime has passed between that moment and now.

Buck starts the car and drives the familiar route to Eddie’s house. The clock on the dashboard shows past 3 AM and the roads are calm, no sign of the early morning traffic yet.

When Buck parks on the driveway, he notices immediately that a small light is still glowing from behind the kitchen curtains. Either it means that Eddie forgot to turn the lights off, or it means that Buck’s not the only one who feels like sleep is the last thing on their mind right now.

He gets out of the car and walks to the door, knocking on it lightly. He never stopped to think what he would do if Eddie wasn’t awake. He had the key for emergencies but would it be okay to use it now, in the middle of the night?

Although, Buck thinks, if the urgency he feels is any indicator, this must fall under the category of emergencies.

He doesn’t need to think for longer because the door opens and Eddie is standing behind it. He’s dressed in sweats and a thick sweatshirt, and his damp hair is curling at the ends, indicating that he has probably showered earlier. There are still cuts on his face and the skin around his eyes is irritated, but he looks a lot better now that he’s clean and dressed comfortably. He’s a little confused but he doesn’t seem annoyed that Buck is behind his door so late (or early) after the day he’s had, so Buck takes in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Buck?” Eddie asks, as if he’s unsure if his tired eyes are seeing right.

“Hey,” Buck says and steps inside when Eddie steps aside to let him in. “I’m sorry I’m here.”

“Why?” Eddie asks after he closes the door and turns to face Buck in the living room. The hallway light is on, as is the small lamp in the living room. The door to Christopher’s room is closed, so Buck assumes at least one of them is doing what they all should be doing and is asleep. Buck turns to look at Eddie when he answers, even though he’s not sure if Eddie is asking him why he’s at his door at such a weird hour, or why he’s apologising.

“I’m sorry for barging here,” Buck explains. “I know you’ve had a long day and you want to rest and spend time with family. But I-'' Buck hesitates before he continues. “I thought that maybe you’d want someone to be there for you. Someone who’s willing to listen and who you don’t need to shield, because I saw what happened.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, Buck’s name coming out in a breath, a tone of awe in the name. “You are family.”

Buck’s at a loss for words because that’s not the part of his speech he was expecting Eddie to comment on, but he’s saved from having to come up with a reply when Eddie continues.

“I want you here,” he admits, his tone still quiet. Whether it is because he doesn’t want to wake up Christopher, or because he’s afraid to say the words any louder, careful with words that make him vulnerable, Buck doesn’t know. “I just didn’t know how to ask.”

“You shouldn’t have needed to ask,” Buck replies easily and steps forward to pull Eddie into a hug. It’s gentler than the ones they occasionally share, in part because Buck is still very aware of how fragile Eddie is, and in part because it feels fitting for the situation. It’s not the time for a happy hug that’s quick and accompanied by pats on the shoulder, the situation calls for something softer, gentle but solid that reminds the other that they aren’t alone, that the other is there and that things will be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like that at the moment.

Buck pretends that he doesn’t hear the small sniff that comes out of Eddie when Buck doesn’t pull away from the hug after a short while, letting Eddie decide how long he needs the hug to last, and he pretends that his cheek just happens to brush against Eddie’s shirt, and he��s not trying to subtly brush away a tear that escaped at feeling Eddie against him, solid and warm and alive.

Eddie’s been honest, the least Buck can do is return the favor.

“I was terrified,” Buck says. “From the moment I lost your weight on that rope I had a bad feeling in my stomach, and when the hole collapsed it felt like I couldn’t breathe. There are only a few moments in my life when I’ve been as terrified.”

Buck doesn’t mention any examples, but he’s pretty sure Eddie knows that one of those times is the time he spent apart from Christopher during the tsunami.

“I’m not sorry I cut that rope,” Eddie says slowly, his words a warm puff against Buck’s shoulder. Maybe it’s easier to talk like this, with the others’ warmth reminding them that they are safe, and not having to face the other. “I’d do it again if it meant saving that boy. But I am sorry that I caused you so much pain.”

Eddie pulls away after that, but instead of completely letting go of Buck, his hands find Buck’s, the mention of pain probably reminding him of Buck’s hands. Buck only wrapped the fingers with the deepest cuts after his shower, so the extent of his injuries is clear for Eddie to see. Buck feels embarrassed, because why did he think that he had any chance digging Eddie out of there with his hands? But he doesn’t pull the hands away, instead letting Eddie inspect them.

“You tried to dig me up with your bare hands,” Eddie says. It’s not a question but a statement, but Buck feels the need to reply.

“I would do anything for you.”

It might be too much, might reveal too much, but at that moment Buck doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and Eddie deserves to know it. Not because Buck wants him to know what Buck went through when the well collapsed, how much he hurt, and what he was thinking. But because Eddie went through hell today and Buck wants to help, wants to chase away some of those terrifying thoughts and make room for good ones, ones that remind Eddie of how loved he is and how happy everyone is that he made it out.

Eddie doesn’t reply verbally, but he lifts Buck’s hands, first the other one and then the other, and leaves a kiss on both of Buck’s palms, a safe distance from the cuts on his fingers.

It’s barely a brush of lips but it feels monumental, and Buck doesn’t know how to react. It feels like more than friendship, but after the night they’ve both had he doesn’t think now is the right time to reveal his feelings to Eddie. At least not more than he’s already done with his actions.

“Should have known you’d make it out of there on your own,” Buck says eventually when they’ve been quiet for a while, Eddie still looking down at where they are now holding hands, Buck trying to warm up Eddie’s cold skin. “I’m proud of you, Eddie. You must have fought like hell.”

“I’ll always fight to come back to my family,” he says, the word family emphasized with a squeeze of his hands, reminding Buck that he’s included in that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks, knowing that getting some of those things out of his head would probably do Eddie good.

“Not tonight,” Eddie says, looking up at Buck. “Maybe later?”

Buck nods, accepting that Eddie probably needs a little time to process everything. He must also be very tired if the droop of his eyelids and the exhausted way he's holding himself are anything to go by.

“You’re probably tired,” Buck says. “You should sleep.”

Eddie hesitates before he speaks next.

“Stay?”

“I’ll be at the couch if you need me,” Buck says, already knowing that there’s nothing that could make him go back to his apartment tonight.

“No I mean-” Eddie starts and hesitates, taking a step backward towards his bedroom and pulling Buck along by his hands, a wordless question. “I’d rather not be alone.”

One of these days Buck is going to talk to Eddie about how he never has to hesitate in asking Buck something, especially if that something is as simple as this. But today is not that day, and instead he toes off his shoes and lets go of one of Eddie’s hands so he can start walking towards Eddie’s bedroom and pull the other man with him.

The bedside table lamp is on, giving them enough light to see what they are doing. Buck lets Eddie get in bed before he tells him that he’ll be right back, and goes to turn off the living room and hallway lights, and then he gets into bed as well. When he reaches for the bedside lamp, a hand stops him.

“Please don’t,” Eddie says, his eyes downcast to the sheets between them. Then he explains, “The well was cold and dark.”

Eddie doesn’t need to say anything more. Buck knows how much it takes for Eddie to admit that he wants to sleep with the light on but Buck will never judge him for it. He even thinks he can help with the other thing as well.

“Are you still feeling cold?” he asks as he settles on his side facing Eddie. They are sharing the blanket but there’s a foot of space between them. Buck wants to let Eddie set the pace but wants him to know that Buck is here for anything he might need.

Eddie nods, “The doctor said that I might feel like this for a while. Said it takes a while for my body to catch up with no longer being in the cold.”

Buck scoots a little bit closer and lifts his arm, a clear invite if Eddie wants to get closer.

Eddie looks almost relieved when he scoots closer, and Buck has a feeling that at least half of that relief stems from the fact that Eddie didn’t need to ask. All fear about crossing a line leaves Buck’s mind as Eddie curls close to him and hides his face in the warm space under Buck’s chin, his cold nose making Buck shiver before he gets used to it. Buck brings his arms around Eddie, both to remind him that he’s not alone and to provide warmth.

“I’ve got you.”

The effect of the action is almost immediate and Buck can feel Eddie relax against him. He feels how his body goes lax and how the breaths against his neck get deeper and calmer.

And Buck sees the moment as it is. A moment of vulnerability that shows Eddie’s trust in him in a way he’s rarely seen before. Sure, he knows Eddie trusts him with his life while they are at work, but it is completely different to know that Eddie trusts him with his heart, with the side of him that’s vulnerable and that he normally guards with thick walls. It makes Buck feel like he might not be alone in his feelings, but he doesn’t want to rush it, knowing that now is not the right moment.

They have time.

Buck waits for Eddie to fall asleep first, his exhausted body giving in to sleep quickly as Buck’s hand cards through his hair. Buck tries to stay awake as long as he can, both to appreciate the moment and hoping he will notice if Eddie starts having a nightmare. But the day has been a lot, and having Eddie in his arms - safe and alive - makes the last bits of fear loosen their grip around Buck’s heart and he feels the tension leave his body and he drifts to sleep between one of Eddie’s steady breaths against his neck and the next.

They both get to leave the day behind.

It won’t disappear, things aren’t magically better tomorrow. Just Eddie’s physical injuries will take a while to heal, not to mention the work he has to put on dealing with what happened mentally. Buck knows it won’t be easy, but he’s going to be there for Eddie every step along the way, in whatever way Eddie wants him to.

And isn’t that another thing to think about? This new step they’ve taken in their relationship. What will it look like in the light of a new day? Buck doesn’t know, but he’s not scared anymore.

It’s him and Eddie. They’ll figure it out.

#9-1-1 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #my writing #i'm finally yeeting this fic here #feels good #i'm done changing little things #this is as good as it'll get now

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stayndays · 4 years ago

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𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟗: It Isn’t That Easy

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! This chapter includes:

A Corpse

Possible Errors

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : “You came here to assist your boss at a party he’s invited to, not to solve a murder with a group of strangers you’ve just met. Yet here you are, staring at the dead mansion owner who hosted the party in the first place, surrounded by nine men with high statuses in society: and one of them is a murderer. The question is who? And can you solve the mystery without being killed yourself?”

Visit the masterlist first before proceeding. It has all the info you need to read this series.

“Let’s explore down here first, so we don’t risk the chances of running into the other four upstairs then,” you answer Jeongin’s question, to which he and Hyunjin nod in agreement.

When the three of you leave the guest bedroom you were occupying, there was a strange silence to the mansion. No sounds of arguing or the other members’ voices, quiet enough to hear your footsteps and Jeongin’s uneven breathing. Your eyes drift to the corpse spread out in the living room, now pushed to the side thanks to the rug underneath it. The living room is quite simple for a mansion; an unlit fireplace, sleek, leather couches and chairs, and a now dim chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You remember gazing at the chandelier when you walked into the mansion, it’s golden rays from the candles enchanting you. It’s a shame that its light was blown away once the mansion owner died and the guests fled, leaving you in a room where the only light source was the full moon outside.

“This is quite random but,” Hyunjin’s sudden urge to speak catches you off guard. “Do you think there’s something under the mansion owner?”

“If there is, I’m not touching that corpse,” you refuse immediately, Hyunjin holding in a snicker at your comment.

“No, seriously. I’m kind of tempted to look…” Hyunjin scratches his head.

“Then do it, we aren’t going to stop you,” Jeongin shrugs, nodding for Hyunjin to proceed. Hyunjin exhales before bending down right next to the corpse.

“God, it’s a lot creepier up close. You think that working at a hospital would help you in situations like these, huh?” Hyunjin chuckles, hesitating to touch the body.

“Say,” you remember something. “Have you and Minho ever met? Since you two both work in the medical field?”

Hyunjin hums in thought before responding. “I’ve never seen him before until this party. Even if he does work at the hospital I work at, I’ve never heard his name or have seen him around.” Your question seems to calm Hyunjin’s nerves slightly, as he pushes the mansion owner’s body onto the side. He inspects the area, looking rather disappointed. “Hmm… I don’t see anything-”

Hyunjin’s eyes light up and he pulls out a shiny, metal object from the mansion owner’s back pocket.

A small, golden key.

“It- No, it can’t be that easy,” Jeongin says with disbelief. You knit your eyebrows together in confusion instead of excitement.

“At least we found something?” Hyunjin attempts to stay positive, despite the unclear expression on his face.

“Well,” you make your way over to the front door. “We could always try the key on the front door.” Hyunjin catches onto what you’re implying, and attempts to unlock the front door. The key jingles way too loudly, and Hyunjin freezes up, not wanting anybody else to hear.

“This might be too risky for now,” Hyunjin concludes.

“Then, let’s just keep on looking,” Jeongin ends the search in the living room, and makes his way to the dining room. You and Hyunjin exchange looks before following after the blond.

The search in the dining room is unsuccessful, however. While you rummage through each table and chair, Jeongin skims through the bags and purses from earlier, tipping each of them over for good measure. Hyunjin inspects the walls and floors, you don’t know why, but you assume that Hyunjin somehow knows what he’s doing.

“Jeongin, can you try checking the belongings a little bit quieter? The others might hear us and wonder what we’re doing,” Hyunjin tells Jeongin with a firm voice, and Jeongin timidly nods at Hyunjin’s request, rummaging through the bags almost silently. You frown slightly at Hyunjin’s stern commands, but quickly get back on track.

“I don’t think there’s anything significant in this room,” you let out a sigh, gazing at Hyunjin toying with the key he found earlier. The two men nod in agreement, and they follow you to the next room: the kitchen.

The kitchen is likely double the size of your own, possibly even triple. With checkered tiles for the floor and extra counter space, you could only dream of a kitchen like this for yourself.

“Where exactly do we look in the kitchen?” Jeongin leans against a counter, obviously unamused and is on the urge of giving up on this exploration.

Meanwhile, you and Hyunjin are thoroughly searching every foot of the kitchen, even looking at the stocked fridge for a split second before going back to the drawers and cabinets. It isn’t until you step on a particular tile on the floor that you stop your motions.

It’s a black, loose tile, probably a millimeter smaller than the other tiles on the floor. Not only that, but it’s a smidge bit lighter than the other black tiles scattered across the room, you figure out once you compare it to another tile. Curiosity gets to you, and you attempt to lift up the tile with your fingertips with your spare hand. By now, the two boys have focused their attention on you. The tile lifts up to reveal a trapdoor, and you widen your eyes in surprise. Ushering the others to come take a look, you realize that there’s a lock on the trapdoor, meaning that what’s behind it will be kept a secret until you find the key to unlock it.

“A secret tunnel?” Jeongin’s voice is filled with hope.

Hyunjin is swift to burst his bubble, though. “Maybe…? However, it might just be an extra room underground.”

“Should we try the key on here?” You suggest, and Hyunjin complies eagerly. Kneeling down to your level, he tries to open the trapdoor, but has no luck.

“I swear, is there even a purpose for this key?” Hyunjin grips the key tightly, acting as though he wants to break it with his bare hands.

Jeongin lets out a gasp, directing your attention to him. “Maybe somebody who’s been in the mansion before, like Minho, knows what this key is beneficial for, then.”

“Or Seungmin! However, both Minho and Seungmin are with somebody right now,” you mention Seungmin’s name.

You can picture Hyunjin’s wheels spinning in his mind. “We can either pull one of them aside separately, or we can bring in whoever they’re which right now as well.”

“Minho might be more helpful since he lived here for a portion of his life, but how can we talk to him without the other three with him becoming suspicious of us?” Jeongin brings up, your brain almost exploding at all the information you’re trying to take in.

“Not to mention, Seungmin’s with Felix right now. We trust Felix more than Seungmin, especially Y/N and I. Would Felix be more helpful for us?” Hyunjin suggests with a shrug.

Minho and Seungmin are our best bet… We’re close with Felix… What about the other three...

WHAT’S YOUR NEXT MOVE?

[ VOTE HERE. ]

CHOICE CHOSEN: Downstairs

VOTING RATIO: 10-3

ROUTE CHOSEN: Escape the Mansion

OFFICIAL ALLIES: Jeongin and Hyunjin

BEST NAME IN THE VOTING BOX: “Hyunjinsfeet”

QUESTIONS (Comments are not answered)

Response 2: your tag might not work because you chose to hide your blog! go to settings, and then to visibility, and make sure both of those options are turned off. if i’m still not able to tag you, i could always message you privately when a new chapter is out. | I’m sure this chapter cleared your question up. And yes, Minho.

Response 4: Yes.

Response 6: If you successfully escape, you will not know what happen to the other members. The killer(s) may or may not be revealed, it depends on what the author decides.

Response 8: doubt it?

Response 11: Check the voting box.

THEORIES (Will be answered with either Yes, No, or Cannot Say)

Response 2: No. No. Cannot say. No. No. Cannot say. Yes. Cannot say. No.

Response 11: Cannot say. Yes and no.

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @poeticallyspaghetti @skzctnightnight @dreamy-dreamies @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @yunhoesss @worldtriiiip @golden--rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox

From what I see, only 15-20 or so people are actively participating in this series. Although this breaks both mine and the author’s heart, I thank you all for being so invested in this series. The author has worked tremendously hard on Killer Kings, and despite the low player count, she’s grateful for all of the participation and dedication being put into this series by all of you. Thank you once again.

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ellewritesathing · 5 years ago

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So Close - S.S. XXXIX

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 39

Word-count: 2.6k+

A/N: guess who straight up forgot what day of the week it was but a day late is better than never right?? hope you guys like it!! 💕 (also i couldn’t find the gif i wanted to use so have some alpha!scott)

Though it had only been a few days, you’d been staying at Stiles’ house ever since he and Scott had gotten into their fight. Melissa was hardly impressed with the decision, but she relented when Noah got hurt and she realized that he'd be staying alone if it wasn't for you. Part of the deal you'd struck, however, was that you’d check in with her every day. Seeing as how you needed some new clothes and the Stilinski's washing machine was busted, you decided to make it a house call.

Melissa didn’t seem to be at home, but you could tell that Scott was there thanks to your fancy new werewolf skills. You tiptoed up to his room and stood in the doorway while he attempted to pin photos and post-it notes to a new corkboard. He was using the same red yarn that Stiles used on his conspiracy boards.

The only problem was that Scott attached one of the strings to his jacket as well as at least five other pins. As soon as he tugged on the yarn, every photo and post-it note came clattering down. He let out a sigh and threw the piece of yarn towards the ground.

“It’s easier to stick the details to the photos before you pin them up,” you said. “Once you've pinned everything up, you can connect them with yarn.”

Scott seemed surprised to see you as he turned around. Maybe his senses were slipping. “Thanks,” he said uncertainly, sliding some of the fallen papers behind him with his foot.

“Stiles has perfected the art of the conspiracy board over the years,” you said as you pushed yourself off of the door jam and started heading towards your room. “Maybe you should ask him about it sometime.”

“Y/N, wait!” Scott called after you. You stopped in the hallway and turned back to look at him. He looked kind of pathetic as he stood there with the remnants of his would-be board around him. “Is he- you know, how is he?”

“His dad is still in the hospital so not great,” you said. It came out snippier than you meant it to. You let out a sigh and shook your head as you walked over to him. “How could you do that to him, Scott? You left him.”

“I thought he killed someone.”

“He did kill someone. In self-defense.” You got close enough to him and poked his chest as you finished. “And he needed you to be there for him.”

Scott didn’t mean to yell, but he did anyway. “How was I supposed to do that when he didn’t even tell me about it?” He took a breath and looked away for a second, trying very hard to regain his cool. “Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” you said quietly. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to think of how to say what you needed to. “Look, Scott … He’s mad because you didn’t believe him from the start. He said we shouldn’t trust Theo and you dismissed him as being paranoid. Then this happened, and Stiles was so scared that you would kick him out completely that- that he didn’t tell you.”

“I know.”

“I know you know.” You took a breath and uncrossed your arms to put a hand on his arm. “You’re making a good effort. Just don’t give up on him again, okay? He’ll come around.”

Scott dropped his gaze and nodded a few times. A memory flashed in your mind from just after you'd returned to Beacon Hills when Scott was comforting you thought you'd ruined your relationship with Stiles. Scott snapped you back to the present after a few seconds. “And what about you?”

That caught you off guard. You frowned slightly as you thought about it. “If you couldn’t forgive Stiles for self-defense, I was scared about what you’d do when I did something worse,” you said slowly. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve seen me out there; it’s only a matter of time. For me and Malia both.”

“Malia?” Scott asked. “What does Malia have to do with any of this?”

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” you asked, rolling your eyes when he said he didn’t. “She’s been hunting her mom down since she found out her name from Peter. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna kill her.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Scott asked, starting to lose his cool again.

“Scott, not everyone has a family like ours," you said. "Especially not the Hales. Plus, I mean, the Desert Wolf kills people. If Malia wants to kill hee, that's not really my business.”

“But she’s still a person! You can’t just-” Scott took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he needed to stay calm or you'd leave. “Okay. But we … we’re okay?”

You gave him a small smile and squeezed his arm before letting go. “We’re getting there, Scotty.”

“I can work with that,” Scott said with his goofy, hopeful grin.

In a weird kind of peace offering, you started helping Scott set his board up. The two of you didn’t talk very much as you did, but it was nice to be alone with him for a little while, even if what you were doing was pretty morbid. When he reached to pin up the last photo, Scott winced and lowered his arm before he got the chance.

You reached out to steady him, looking down at where his wound was. “That’s taking a pretty long time to heal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott exhaled. He put the photo on his desk very gently. “I think it’s because it’s from Liam. Because we’re not … you know.”

“I know,” you said quietly, still holding onto him. “You need some help cleaning it up?”

Scott took a breath and winced at how much his chest moved. “No, I can handle it. Do you wanna get your stuff and I’ll drop you off at Stiles’ house?”

No. You wanted to help your brother. Instead you just gave him a weak smile and pulled your hand away. “Sure. Yell if you need any help.”

Scott promised he would but you doubted that he’d follow through with it, so you kept an ear out for any surprises. The sounds of Scott struggling to clean his wounds weren’t that surprising, but Stiles coming over to ask for Scott's help was. Scott agreed immediately, like you knew he would, and the two of them were off before you knew it.

Though it was a little disheartening that Stiles hadn’t picked you to be his werewolf partner in crime, you were relieved that they were both making an effort to patch up. You followed them anyway, just in case, but you kept your distance so they wouldn’t spot you.

They were investigating what happened at the relay station with Hayden, her sister, and the new chimera at the relay station. You listened closely to what was going on inside and waited maybe five minutes before following them down when they found a secret tunnel underground.

Following them without them noticing was harder down in the tunnels - everything echoed off the walls - but you managed to stay hidden until they were attacked.

Seeing Tracy alive and trying to kill your friends was as bizarre an experience as seeing her dead body, but not any more bizarre than punching your formerly-dead classmate Josh in the mouth. You wondered if the others felt like this after you died.

Josh’s electricity made your heart race but you still managed to slam him against the wall and Scott shoved Tracy’s claws between Josh’s shoulder blades a second later. You sliced Tracy with your claws as you let go of Josh and she collapsed to the ground a few feet away from where Stiles lay paralyzed. You pressed the sole of your shoe into her back to keep her on the ground and looked up at Scott for advice on how to handle it.

Scott was shining his alpha eyes at a spot along the pipes. He let out a low growl and Corey materialized a second later, very much still afraid of him.

“Okay!” Theo called out from the shadows. Your heel dug further into Tracy's back as you turned to face where he stepped out from another part of the tunnels. “Maybe they’re not ready to take on an Alpha just yet.” You threw one of your knives at him and he looked minorly inconvenienced as he dodged it. “Though I didn’t expect you to have help. Or to smell fear.”

Tracy started moving under your foot and you started pushing her further down when Scott shook his head at you. Reluctantly, you took your foot off her back and took a step back. Tracy got to her feet without taking her eyes off you.

“He has fangs!” Corey argued. You had to admit, sending cute little Corey after Scott seemed idiotic.

“What did you do to them?” you asked Theo.

Theo gave you a nauseating smile. “Jealous of the newer model?”

“What did you do?” Scott repeated.

“I found some new friends,” Theo said as he looked back over at Scott. “I don’t take rejection very well.”

“Haven’t you had a lifetime of practice?” you asked. Tracy and Corey picked up Josh and you held a hand out and stepped in front of them. Sure, he just tried to kill your brother but you were still protective over him. “Where are you taking him?”

“Somewhere where he's not gonna get stabbed in the back,” Tracy said venomously. “You got a problem with that?”

“No,” Scott answered for you. “Get out of here.”

You moved out of their way so they could leave, but you didn’t say anything until you were sure that they were long gone. You took a deep breath and returned your focus to Theo, who was dangerously close to Stiles.

“Hey, Theo,” Stiles said with fake enthusiasm from where he lay paralyzed.

“Stiles,” Theo said. He lifted his foot and smashed the floor in front of Stiles, the part of the floor with Latin written on it in Mercury, but it was too close to him for you to be comfortable. Theo sighed and walked closer to you and Scott. “You’re going to leave here thinking that you need to worry about me.” He circled you and Scott as he spoke. “But you’re wrong. We’re actually on the same side.”

You looked over at Scott for a second and he looked just as distrusting as you did for once.

“But that thing …” Theo said as he came to a stop, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s what we need to worry about. Your pack and mine.” You scoffed under your breath. His pack. “Now, we’re gonna go back to school and pretend like we’re normal teenagers, but at night, we’re going to be fighting for our lives.”

“What is it?” Stiles asked.

“It’s not a chimera,” Theo said.

“But it’s just a kid underneath,” Scott argued, always noble. “Someone like us.”

Theo tilted his head and gave Scott one of his secretive smiles. “Not anymore.” He started turning again and walked off into the darkness after his new pack of chimeras.

You took a deep breath and let out a long exhale as you put your head in your hands for a moment. “Well, shit, guys. That sounds awful.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Stiles said as he looked you up and down (which looked very interesting considering his collapsed position on the floor). “What are you doing here, by the way?”

“Hi, babe, good to see you too,” you teased as you crouched down in front of him. You moved some hair out of his face and smiled at him. “I came to make sure neither of you killed one another. Can I sit you up?”

Stiles let out a sigh and rolled his eyes to the best of his paralyzed abilities. He looked ready to say something sarcastic before deciding against it. “Yes, please.”

You smiled at him and looped his arm around your shoulder while Scott took Stiles’ other arm. The two of you dragged him to a wall and propped him up, Scott sitting on his one side and you on his other. As Scott settled in, you picked up Stiles’ hand and moved it into yours.

“He knew what it meant and I can’t even remember the words,” Scott said after a while.

“Damnatio Memoriae,” Stiles said. Scott looked at him a little incredulously and it made you smile. Of course, Stiles remembered the ominous Latin writing. “It means the condemnation of memory. I think it also means that whatever the Dread Doctors created, whatever this last chimera really is ... it’s not something new. It’s something old. Really old.”

“So they didn’t create a new creature,” Scott said slowly.

“They resurrected one,” you said, turning so you look at both of them clearly. “Like how Theo resurrected the others.”

“Not exactly, but …” Stiles took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“That sounds bad,” you said quietly.

“Really bad.” Scott waited a minute and then pressed his index and middle fingers to the dirt and drew a circle, the beginning of his pack symbol. “We need help,” he said. “If Theo’s got his own pack now then we need ours. We have to get the others back.”

“The others?” Stiles repeated. “You mean Kira who’s currently battling a homicidal fox spirit inside of her, Malia who isn’t even speaking to us, Lydia who’s stuck in Eichen House, and Liam who almost killed you?”

“Also known as our best friends,” Scott said.

You snorted and Stiles pulled a face at you, which only made you laugh harder. It felt wrong to laugh in these tunnels. “And how do you plan on getting the gang back together?” you asked.

“One by one,” Scott said. His eyes flicked from Stiles to the incomplete pack boob in the dust.

“You’re not seriously going to make me do it,” Stiles said, frowning at the dirt on the floor.

“You’re part of the pack, right?” Scott asked.

“Here,” you said as you moved to grab Stiles' other hand. You held two of his fingers in your hand. “Just until you get your feeling back.”

Stiles took a reluctant breath but nodded anyway for you to do it. You moved his hand to make a bigger circle around Scott’s and held in a laugh at how exasperated he looked. You bumped his arm and smiled at him.

“Let’s get out here,” you said. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Both Stiles and Scott laughed, but Scott got to his feet and offered you a hand up. You let him help you up, and then you each took one of Stiles’ arms and pulled him to his feet.

The two of you supported most of Stiles’ weight while you walked, but it wasn’t much of a burden to your superhuman strength. You couldn’t say the same for Scott though - the smell of his blood got stronger the closer you got to the exit - but at least Stiles was regaining some feeling by then.

You helped Stiles into the passenger seat of the Jeep and buckled him in before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “See you at home, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles said with a smile. “Thanks for looking after me. I know it’s not the easiest job.”

“Yeah, but it’s the only job I care about,” you said softly. You were going to kiss him when you heard Scott squirming around as he tried to get into the driver’s seat. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Sorry, the seat is like really squeaky,” he said awkwardly. “I know you guys were having a moment.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, emphasis on ‘were.’”

You laughed again while Scott stammered out ten thousand apologies and Stiles gave him a hard time. There was still a long way to go, but this was a start. And this was enough.

Tagged: @ietss @used-avocado

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles slow burn #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite #mccall!reader

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idiot-extraordinaire · 4 years ago

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Pancakes and Mr Snuggles

Just a morning at the Lopez-Pierce home (c.2027)

Sunlight streams through the gaps in the curtains. Santana crinkles her forehead, unamused that her slumber has been interrupted. Her eyes flutter open and everything is quiet.

Too quiet.

She turns to the left and is surprised to find the other side of the bed empty. She then turns her head to the right and sees a pair of brown eyes staring back at her.

Those eyes belong to a three year old boy, peeking over the edge of the bed.

"Good morning," she reaches over, ruffling his hair affectionately, voice still a little rough from sleep.

"Hola," the little boy says.

She chuckles. "Hola. Where's your Mommy?"

The little boy just shrugs his shoulders. The smile on his face tells Santana that he's keeping a secret.

"Really? You don't know?"

Another smiling shrug.

"You're not hiding from Mommy by any chance, are you?"

He then nods his head vigorously. His smile turns into a grin.

"Shh," he whispers, with a finger to his lips.

Santana lets out a laugh. "Come here." She pats the spot on the bed next to her and helps up the little boy as he scrambles up onto the bed in his blue and yellow ducky pyjamas. He dives under the covers and pulls them over his head. "Mommy won't find you in here."

She hears him giggle. "Gracias, Mama."

"Hey babe, have you seen-"

Brittany walks back into their bedroom, but stops short once she spots the lump in bed, next to her wife. A coy smile of her own grows on the blonde's face.

"You didn't happen to see a little boy pass here, did you?" she asks, from the doorway. "'About this tall, ducky PJs, supposed to be helping me with breakfast?"

Santana shakes her head. "Sorry, Britt."

The lump next to her continues to giggle.

“Hmmm weird, that's fine. I guess I'll just have to wait here and see if he stops by," Brittany says, walking back to her side of the bed and promptly flopping down on it.

She stretches her arms exaggeratedly so one of them falls directly on the giggling lump.

"Gee, Santana. Our bed sure is lumpy," she pats the lump with her hand. "Do you think we should get a new one?"

"Mommy!" the boy throws the covers off his head, revealing himself.

"Ollie!" Brittany replies in the same tone and starts tickling him, till he's in a laughing fit. When she relents, he manages to escape and snuggles up to Santana.

"Did you wake your Mama, Ollie?"

"No, he didn't wake me up," Santana says. She leans over and is met with a kiss from her wife. "Good morning," she greets with a contented smile on her face.

"Good morning. How are my girls?" Brittany lets her hand drift down to Santana's pregnant belly, under the covers.

"We're good," she answers softly, gazing into Brittany's eyes. "We're good. What's this I heard about breakfast, though?"

"Oh, well I was working on making you some super special, awesome pancakes, but then my assistant ran away," Brittany pointedly turns to their son, who just smiles.

"Super special awesome pancakes, huh? You must really love me," Santana teases.

"I do really love you" Brittany says, planting another kiss on her wife’s lips.

"Well, I really love you too."

The three of them eat breakfast together - pancakes with blueberries in a smiley face, assembled by one Oliver Lopez-Pierce. Unfortunately, Ollie messes up the syrup mouth, and syrup ends up on the table. He tries to wipe it, but all it does is get his hands sticky.

Santana wipes his hands with a baby wipe, as Brittany flips the last pancake. Ollie reaches for Lord Tubbington who has waddled his way into the dining room expecting to be fed. He looks disappointed when he approaches his bowl and sees cat food, rather than Seabass and donuts (his favorite breakfast combination).

"Tubbs!" Ollie exclaims, clearly wanting to play.

"Ollie, baby, you can play with Tubbs after breakfast, ok?"

The young boy seems content with this answer, though his attention is still focussed on the fat cat.

Santana knows for a fact that while Lord Tubbington certainly likes Ollie, he certainly does not love to play. It is only because the old cat likes the Lopez-Pierce boy enough that he even entertains the idea of "play", given his hatred for activity. Lord Tubbington would much prefer a relationship with Oliver, where the young boy only fed and pet him. None of this running around nonsense.

The syrup instance aside, the Lopez-Pierces share a calm breakfast. Ollie scarfs down his pancake quickly.

"Can I play now, Mama?"

"Did you finish your milk?"

"Yep!" he beams, showing her his empty cup.

Santana watches Tubbs hover around the breakfast table and smiles. "Sure, go ahead."

"Thank you! Play time, Tubbs!" Ollie grins, hopping off his chair and chasing after the fat feline - who has now wandered off into the living room, clearly disappointed with his own breakfast - with the energy and enthusiasm that only young children have. "Let's do a new trick!"

Santana is also positive that Lord Tubbington hasn't picked up any new tricks in...well ever (unless you count his stint in cigarette smuggling), but laughs as her son grabs a cat toy and pats for Tubbs to join him where he sits. The cat drags himself over and reluctantly swats at it, clearly not up for this level of exercise so early in the morning.

Whatever, serves the fat bastard right for ruining so many of her shoes.

"Your mom called," Brittany informs her. "Her and your dad are taking an earlier flight, so they'll get here in the morning instead of the evening. She said something about a surprise."

"My dad better not be bringing another life-sized bear."

"Awww, but you love Mr Snuggles."

"I don't love keeping Tubbs from having to use it as a scratching post. Don't you remember the last time he tore Mr Snuggles' leg and stuffing started coming out? Ollie thought he was bleeding!"

"We sewed him back up."

"Yeah, but how much more damage is he going to cause to those poor, innocent bears, Britt? Can you imagine our darling boy having to watch the cat practically assault another bear?"

"So you admit it," Brittany smiled, slyly in between bites on pancake.

"What?"

"You love Mr Snuggles."

"That's not what I was saying. Besides, we don't have the space for another one." Santana retorted indignantly.

The truth was Santana totally adored Mr Snuggles. Carlos Lopez had spent most of Santana's upbringing working at the hospital and while things had started to improve after high school, the tension had yet to fully evaporate. After they got married, he made a greater effort. Visits to New York happened a little more frequently, so did phone calls.

But it all finally came to a close when two days after they informed Santana's parents that Brittany was pregnant, Carlos showed up on their doorstep with a stroller and a six-foot teddy bear, congratulating them and saying he didn't want to miss his grandchild's life, in the way he'd missed so much of Santana's.

There had been hugging and crying.

Both Santana and Carlos deny they were the ones crying.

In truth, they both were.

"He was like our baby's guardian, Britt," Santana finally admitted, now seemingly on the verge of tears. "You know? He was so little. When he was by himself in the nursery, it's like Mr Snuggles was looking after him," she sniffed.

"I know, baby," the blonde smiled reassuringly, reaching across the table and patting her wife's hand.

Santana sniffed again and her wife handed her a tissue. "Damn hormones."

"If your dad brings another bear, we can give it to Mike," Brittany suggested. "Quinn is due not long after you anyway. Besides, I think Mr Snuggles has enough left in him to be guardian to our baby girl too."

Santana thinks about it. "We need to stop Tubbs from getting into the nursery and wrecking the bear."

"We can do that. Besides, he was too lazy to finish his underground tunnelling system across the house."

She pauses again. "Ok. You're right," Santana admitted. "As usual."

Brittany laughed and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "I like the sound of that."

Both now done with breakfast, the blonde moved to clear their plates from the table to the sink. Santana smiled and watched Ollie try to make Tubbs chase a ball of yarn across the living room. It was probably meant to be some game, but Tubbs preferred taking his sweet time, which didn't seem to bother the young boy. She was also pretty sure the couch was going to be covered in yarn by the end of it.

This was her life.

And damn, did she love every facet of it.

Who would've thought? Certainly not the terrified cheerleader, secretly in love with her best friend all those years ago.

"Hey."

Brittany, who has started to wash the dishes, feels a pair of arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" Santana asked, keeping her voice low.

Brittany turns around, with that sly smile Santana fell in love with for the first time, all those years ago.

"Tell me again."

Author Notes:

And she told her every day, forever and ever, until they were 150 years old.

Also, yes LT is still alive by some miracle and yes, Mike and Quinn got together at some point (I've always liked the idea of them together).

There might be more of this verse and I have some other ideas if people are interested. I'm still processing everything, but writing this actually made me feel a little better.

We'll get through this together, guys.

No mater what, Brittany and Santana are off in New York, living their best life, in the early years of their long an happy life together.

#brittana #brittana fanfic #brittana fanfiction #santana lopez #brittany pierce #glee #pancake!verse

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owsalfa · 5 years ago

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Official episode descriptions from the old website!

The Promised Land: We meet our rabbits on their journey to WATERSHIP DOWN, following Fiver's vision of "High, Lonely Hills". They find themselves in all sorts of scrapes on their travels. Frantically chased by a dog, Blackberry saves the day with her idea of 'floating' an exhausted Fiver and Pipkin across the river on a log. Pipkin befriends Kehaar, a sea gull lost on his way to "The Beeg Vater". Disillusioned by their long journey and no sightings of their new home, the rabbits spot Nuthanger Farm and want to raid it for some tasty 'flayrah'. Hazel cautions that they are tired, so Dandelion tells one of his famous folklore stories, to give them time to regain their strength.They then head to the farm, as has Kehaar, who has joined forces with a street wise mouse called Hannah. Hannah saves the rabbits and Kehaar from a nasty attack by Tabatha, the farmhouse cat. Kehaar is injured, but Hannah knows of somewhere to stay, WATERSHIP DOWN.

Home on The Down: We meet our rabbits on their journey to WATERSHIP DOWN, following Fiver's vision of "High, lonely hills". They find themselves in all sorts of scrapes on their travels. Frantically chased by a dog, Blackberry saves the day with her idea of 'floating' an exhausted Fiver and Pipkin across the river on a log. Pipkin has a close shave with a weasel whilst out looking for food for the injured Kehaar. Bigwig is angry at Kehaar's lack of responsibility and is not happy to share the warren with a bird and a mouse. Pipkin is shaken up, but not just by the weasel, he heard the Black Rabbit of Inle calling Bigwig's name, Bigwig brushes it off. Blackberry is in charge of building their new warren. Bigwig, Hawkbit and Dandelion are not happy at digging and an argument erupts. A game of Bobstones is played between Bigwig, Champion Bobstones at Sandleford and Fiver. Bigwig loses and accuses Fiver of cheating with his gift of vision, but grudgingly he accepts defeat. An alert call from Kehaar interrupts digging - the weasel is back. Bigwig hears his name called and is now convinced the Black Rabbit of Inle is here for him. He decides to fight the weasel to save the others as the end is near for him. Hannah has a better idea, she knows of a secret rock tunnel, she lures in the weasel and the rabbits block the entrance, trapping him inside. Bigwig's name is called again and he is now certain this is the final curtain. But it's Captain Holly from Sandleford with news of its destruction. Fiver was right after all.

The Easy Life: Holly explains he's left Pimpernel at a neighbouring warren. Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver and Holly go to find Pimpernel, while the others stay to help build the warren. They are met at the neighbouring warren by a sleek, well-fed rabbit called Cowslip. He is very hospitable and feeds them with the best flayrah. The warren rabbits are a curious lot and no one will tell them where Pimpernel is. Fiver is very unsure of this warren and tries to warn the others, but they are far too impressed with the easy way of life these rabbits appear to have. Fiver refuses to stay at the warren and spends a cold wet night outside. A gun goes off and Hazel is concerned for Fiver's welfare, yet Cowslip merely advises them that man was killing a fox for them. But man is elil! Cowslip invites them to feast on the flayrah which man leaves for them. On collecting it Bigwig gets caught in a snare. Cowslip refuses to help. Hazel and Fiver frantically dig out the peg holding the snare in the ground and Bigwig is saved just in time. They turn on Cowslip, finally understanding that Cowslip encourages new rabbits joining the warren, to give him an extra day of life. They leave the Warren of the Shining Wire, taking with them Strawberry, a disgruntled rabbit with a desire for a new life.

The Raid: Hazel is thinking about Primrose and the future of the warren. Hannah mentions the hutch rabbits at Nuthanger Farm and Hazel, Fiver and Pipkin set off to break them out. The four hutch rabbits aren't used to thinking for themselves and only Clover manages to escape. After a close shave with Chester the dog and Tabatha Cat, in all the commotion, the farmer is disturbed and as they make a run for it Hazel is shot. Hazel drags himself to a sheltered pipe, Fiver can sense that Hazel is still alive but can't find him. Kehaar is out searching for them and finds the distressed Fiver. Kehaar knows how bad a gun shot is and knows time is running out for Hazel. Fiver uses his vision as he never has before and wills them to find Hazel. They are lead to the pipe and Kehaar removes the bullet. They head back to WATERSHIP DOWN exhausted, but Hazel's thoughts are still with Primrose at Efrafa.

Escape from Efrafa: Bigwig convinces Woundwort of his desire to join his warren. He is appointed a probationary Captain of Owsla. He forewarns Primrose and Blackavar that Hazel plans to break them out.Primrose shows Bigwig her escape tunnel.The WATERSHIP DOWN rabbits prepare the boat for a getaway, still unaware that Bigwig is at Efrafa. They move in closer to Efrafa and Hazel sees Bigwig talking with Campion exaggerating their security flaws. He realises what Bigwig is up to and nods his acknowledgement. Bigwig's loyalty is questioned by Woundwort when he's seen talking with Kehaar. His excuses earn him promotion. Time is tight and Bigwig, Primrose and Blackavar make their escape with the Efrafans hot on their trail. Blackberry is waiting by the boat, they all jump aboard, leaving Woundwort, Campion and Vervain forced to watch them drift away.

The Vision: Primrose is homesick for her home warren, Redstone and wants to go and visit. Against his better judgement, Hazel agrees to take her there. Fiver sees a vision of an empty warren, but Primrose will not be dissuaded. The journey allows Primrose and Hazel to get to know one another better, but when Primrose falls into a canal, Hazel risks his life to save her. When they reach the warren, it is deserted all bar Captain Broom, an old eccentric rabbit and the only one to survive The Great Sickness. Primrose persuades Broom to come with them to WATERSHIP DOWN. Meanwhile, back at WATERSHIP DOWN, Fiver has a vision and they decide it's the weasel for revenge. Hawkbit blames the warren's bad luck in Fiver's vision. Fiver is mortified and leaves the warren. Bigwig is not best pleased with Hawkbit. They all set about securing the warren setting a trap for the weasel. The weasel falls into their prepared pit and the rabbits fill it with earth and stones. They recruit two hedgehogs who attack the weasel sending him slinking off howling in pain. Hazel and Primrose return with Captain Broom and Hazel announces he's going to be a father. Fiver returns to the warren once he's persuaded that some of his visions have happened before he's seen them. He does not cause them.

A Tale of a Mouse: Bigwig wants to raid the farm for flayrah. Dandelion tells an El-Arah story of cunning and trickery, the principal of which they try to use on Chester the farm dog, the only obstacle between them and flayrah. Hannah mouse has raid plans of her own but becomes trapped by Tabatha Cat in a bread bin. Alerted by Chester's bark, Tabatha becomes more interested in the rabbits, Hannah tries desperately to warn them. Tabatha leaps at the rabbits, Fiver becomes trapped under a wheelbarrow. Tabatha waits by the wheelbarrow for her prey. Hazel has a plan, Hawkbit diverts the cat, Hannah tries to tell Fiver their plans, but gets caught by Tabatha, Fiver bangs the wheelbarrow shocking the cat into letting her go. Fiver is told to dig under the fence and under the dog. Chester's watching Tabatha, Tabatha is still watching the wheelbarrow. With Chester diverted, Bigwig digs into the carrot field, passing flayrah through the fence. Fiver pops up too close to Chester, Chester chases Fiver and Hannah, they escape just in time down Bigwig's hole. They return to WATERSHIP DOWN with lots of carrots for everyone.

Lost: Hawkbit discovers the beginnings of an opening in one of the burrows. On showing it to Hazel and Fiver they fall through into a secret cavern. They can't find a way out but Hazel senses a flow of fresh air and they follow it in hopes of an exit. Bigwig is giving Owsla training. Efrafan captains, Campion and Vervain, are on wide patrol search for the WATERSHIP DOWN warren when they pick up the rabbits' scent. Kehaar spots the Efrafans from the sky, but they follow him thinking he'll lead them to WATERSHIP DOWN. Kehaar cleverly takes them the wrong way. Blackberry and Primrose are worried about Hazel, Fiver and Hawkbit. A search is organised, the only explanation is that they must have fallen underground. Kehaar informs Bigwig of the Efrafan patrol, Bigwig fears they have Hazel, Fiver and Hawkbit. Bigwig confronts two Owsla guards, demanding to know if they have Hazel. On Owsla honour they say they don't. Bigwig makes to leave and bumps straight into Vervain. A chase ensues. Bigwig looks doomed, just as Hazel, Fiver and Hawkbit pop out of the end of the cavern, hidden by the stream. They see Bigwig's in trouble, he hides with them until the Efrafans give up. They now have a secret passage way into the heart of Efrafa.

Friend and Enemy: Bigwig watches an exhausted Efrafan patrol. Their orders, to find and destroy WATERSHIP DOWN. Woundwort will not rest until Hazel, Fiver and Bigwig are found, pushing his troops to the point of collapse. WATERSHIP DOWN is very close to discovery. Hazel decides to lay false trails. They monitor the patrols as they lay their tracks.Hazel and co stumble upon a greenhouse and stare in wonder at the strange building. Close by, the Efrafans are attacked by a hawk and Campion is badly injured. A terrified Vervain pulls out his troops and deserts Campion. Hazel drags Campion into the greenhouse and stays with him through the night to aid his recovery, sending the others back to WATERSHIP DOWN. A gardener shuts them in. Two parrots warn them of a dangerous snake. Campion recovers enough to attempt an escape. Back at WATERSHIP DOWN, Fiver senses Hazel is in trouble and they head back to the greenhouse. They arrive just in time to get them out before the snake catches them. Hazel has saved Campion's life and he will not forget this. Vervain is reprimanded by Woundwort for deserting an officer.

Kidnapped: Kehaar dives on a wide patrol, again searching for WATERSHIP DOWN. The Efrafans are sick and tired. Kehaar warns Hazel of the patrol. They all fear for their warren. Hazel hopes he has made an ally in Campion - perhaps he'd help them from the inside. They set out to approach Campion, via their secret cavern. Campion tries to reason with Woundwort that the troops are being pushed too hard but Woundwort doesn't want to listen. Campion is disillusioned and Hazel asks for Campion's help. He has until sunset to decide. They are spotted by Vervain and are chased. Vervain accuses Campion of consorting with the enemy. He confesses they asked him to betray Efrafa, but only to gain their trust and double cross them. Hazel and Bigwig meet with Campion and Vervain and his troops jump them from the bushes. Campion sides with Hazel and Bigwig and helps them escape. Campion returns to Efrafa as a double agent for Hazel, but to look convincing it has to appear Campion had to fight his way out. Pipkin, keen to see if Hazel and Bigwig are safe, gets swept away by the stream. He's captured by Woundwort. A trade is requested, Woundwort wants Hazel, Fiver and Bigwig in exchange for Pipkin.

The Market: Kehaar is homesick and wants to visit the Big Water. He and the WATERSHIP DOWN rabbits set off and finding a van on route filled with food, stop for a feed. Suddenly, the van moves off and the rabbits are along for the ride! Kehaar follows, desperate to save his friends. The van pulls up at a market where the rabbits discover a new bustling, busy, terrifying place - full of food and flayrah but also people, dogs and all sorts of elil. Escaping from a dog, the rabbits hide in the luggage compartment of a coach… bound for the seaside. Kehaar promises he'll follow them, but as he lags behind, the rabbits wonder if they'll ever see their friend and home again.

#watership down #wsd01 #wsd02 #wsd03 #wsd06 #wsd08 #wsd09 #wsd10 #wsd11 #wsd12 #wsd16

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jaredharrisfest · 6 years ago

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Law & Order: SVU

TITLE: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

EPISODE: 906 - “Svengali”

ROLE: Robert Morten

SUMMARY: A grisly murder scene at the bottom of an elevator shaft leads SVU detectives to a group of individuals who are under the spell of a charismatic, imprisoned serial killer.

YEAR: 2007

We start with a dead body (as you do on these shows).

Please enjoy the snappy Law & Order dialogue:

DETECTIVE OLIVIA BENSON: Looks like she was dressed for her dream date.

RANDOM FORENSICS TECH: Yeah, it ended when the perp strangled her repeatedly with her own pantyhose.

And it gets worse (doesn’t it always?). The killer cut off her breasts and walked out with them. Ew.

Tina, our victim, was headed not to her dream date but to mine: a really cool-looking underground party in an abandoned subway tunnel under the Waldorf Astoria Hotel where everyone dresses up in their vintage-looking finest and watches a screening of Double Indemnity. Count me in!

The whole thing is organized/run by this guy, Edgar Rabinowicz (but he’d prefer to be called Agent Mayhem), part of the hipsteriffic Silk and Cyanide Corp (”We’re secret agents of adventure”).

But of course he didn’t kill Tina. He only left her alone and hammered at a bar after their last “mission” - a shit thing to do, yes, but not murder.

Bartender Cecilia is shocked at news of Tina’s murder and claims she left at last call with some asshole guy but refuses to describe said douchebag as she “doesn’t want to get involved.”

After being convinced to sit down with a police sketch artist (which leads to a plethora of useless tips), Cecilia calls Detective Benson to tell her that the asshole is back while she’s closing by herself. Maybe the asshole is her manager because WHO LEAVES A WOMAN ALONE TO CLOSE ANYTHING? HELLO! MURDER CITY!

Which is pretty much exactly what happens as the detectives find no Cecilia and the Venus de Milo recreated in blood on the bar floor.

DUN DUN!

The bloody Venus was also inspired by artworks of currently incarcerated serial killer Robert Morten.

(Is it wrong that I think he looks very handsome in his mug shot? It is, isn’t it?)

The detectives conclude it must be a copycat, and if he’s following Morten to the letter, Cecilia’s got twelve hours left to live before he kills her.

Our creepy boy! Hooray!

The detectives are turning his cell inside out to look for clues to the name of his new partner. Detective Stabler, as Bad Cop, tears one of Morten’s artworks in half to “motivate” him.

"Am I bovvered? Am I bovvered though? Look at my face. Is it bovvered?”

“Arks me If I'm bovvered! Look, face, bovvered? I ain't bovvered!"

But then Benson, as Good Cop, tempts him with tasty victim headshots.

“They’re sublime,” he says in his creepy-yet-alluring-because-it’s-Jared-Harris Hannibal Lecter voice.

“What I could do with those.”

“But obviously-”

*faux bashful head tilt*

“-I’m innocent.”

Benson ain’t buying it.

Morten doesn’t like it when they start to go after his mail...and especially his fan letters.

(The disdain! I love it.)

The non-Stabler and non-Benson detectives (aka Ice-T and That Other Guy) go out to talk to the writers of said fan letters and learn that there’s a Free Robert Morten committee working on an appeal. Benson and Stabler bring in the vice president, ex-con Jasper Grice.

JASPER: He took care of me.

STABLER: Three years as his cellie? You were his bitch.

Well, you would know, Stabler. Or should I say...

...Chris Keller from HBO’s Oz?

(Oz was my first fandom and Beecher/Keller was my first ship. I was in sixth grade. Other kids were freaking out about a stupid kiss on Dawson’s Creek; I was telling them how I saw a man get gutted like a fish in the showers.

I...was not popular.)

Jasper advises the detectives that the copycat is killing based on covers of an AU comic book series about Morten’s crimes in which he doesn't get caught and continues killing.

Tina was issue #9, Cecilia is supposed to be issue #10.

The detectives go to the apartment writer/artist and learn that the issue #10 murder takes place in Morten’s childhood bedroom. They rush to the dilapidated old house and kick down the bedroom door.

Et voilà! A barely alive Cecilia.

Cecilia wakes up in the hospital and discovers that unlike Tina she’s still got boobs but they've been mutilated and she’ll need plastic surgery. She blames talking to Benson in the first place for everything and asks her to leave.

Back at the precinct, Detective Ice-T (I don’t care what his character’s name is, he’s Detective Ice-T) tries to give Benson a pizza...that she didn’t order.

DUN DUN!

“Hotbox” indeed, foreshadowing pizza box! Because it turns out the pizza...

..IS A BOMB!

While the precinct is evacuated to the street, the random forensics tech from earlier approaches the detectives with a report.

A similar knife was used on both Tina and Cecilia, but Cecilia’s mutilating boob cuts taper away from the midline and differ in angle and depth.

Translation: they’re self-inflicted!

DUN DUN!

The detectives obtain a search warrant for Cecilia’s apartment.

It seems she was an intern for his lawyers and had been writing to him for years beforehand. She wasn’t on the detectives’ radar because legal visits and correspondence aren’t on inmate logs.

Cecilia reveals that at seventeen she learned that her father hadn’t died in a car crash but had been imprisoned for bank robbery. She wrote to Morten asking for information about dear old dad, and Morten replied.

“Your daddy said you had eyes like summer and hair as soft as lamb’s wool. You were the best thing he ever did in his life. I’d love to see if you look like him. Please send me a picture.”

JK, of course. Morten never even met her dad.

But he’s not one to pass up a free picture of a pretty lady!

PS In this scene, Mr. Harris is shifting between his Hannibal Lecter voice (when talking to Stabler) and his writing-to-Cecilia-to-gain-her-pity-and-trust voice (when reading the letters), and it sent a chill up my spine the first time I heard it. Kudos, sir.

PPS THIS TRANSITION. I’m in love.

Also, Jared Harris? How did you get your eyes so dead? Kudos AGAIN, good sir!

(Murdery) teeth gap!

Back to the plot: Morten convinced Cecilia that she was the only one who could help him with his appeals. He told her to get that internship with his lawyers so they could have visits without being monitored.

MORTEN: We had complete privacy. Complete privilege.

STABLER: Sounds cozy.

MORTEN: Oh, it was. She was a virgin. I plucked her.

And I know I’m a broken record here, but look: I love Jared Harris. He’s a very attractive gentleman, even when playing a serial killer. But when he said that? I was repulsed and horrified to my core.

Cecilia is convinced that Morten loves her and that they’re soulmates. Morten says the only way to prove that they are is for Cecilia to kill somebody. Tina was an “artistic offering” from Cecilia to Morten, and he knows where the trophies (i.e. Tina’s breasts) are.

(GUYS HE DID A LITTLE EYEBROW RAISE AFTER THE WORD “BREASTS” I’M DEAD) (probably because his character killed me)

The breasts are found where Morten said they would be, and the Assistant District Attorney declares they’ve got enough to charge Cecilia with murder.

Morten would like a peek at the evidence for helping.

Benson violently disagrees.

And gets blown a creepy little kiss for her troubles.

All the good detectives are heading home after a long day. Benson tries to just open the door and put her groceries away, but she’s attacked by the AU comic book guy.

Can I tell you how much I appreciate that Benson beats the shit out of him with a big heavy book? That’d be my first weapon at hand too.

The detectives are done. It’s time for the trial!

Cecilia takes the stand, testifies about her suicide attempt, and shows the jury her self-inflicted boob scars. She’s got them eating out of her hand, so the prosecution calls in some special help.

The A.D.A. subpoenas him as a rebuttal witness.

MORTEN: That’s a new one. What do I get in return?

A.D.A.: Nothing.

MORTEN: And if I refuse?

A.D.A.: We’ll hold you in contempt of court.

MORTEN: I’m already serving eight life sentences. Contempt of court’s hardly going to make it worse.

Morten realizes that they need him bad and is able to bargain for a deal - the possibility of parole and a transfer to the federal prison system. The A.D.A. angrily agrees.

Bonus creepy screencap! THE EYES OMG

The next day Morten swaggers into court and is greeted by his adoring cult fans. The judge warns them he’ll clear the courtroom if there’s any more outbursts.

Morten eats it up with a spoon.

And it looks like our murderous boy has something up his sleeve judging by this unseen-by-the-A.D.A. wink he gives Cecilia! Let’s watch.

Of course he’s going to absolutely tell the whole truth! Would this face lie?

Yes, repeatedly, as he denies everything he told the A.D.A. in their chat the previous night.

For example: did he tell Cecilia to kill?

“I’ve told many to express themselves. No one had the emotional fortitude to do it until Cecilia.”

The A.D.A. is sick of this bullshit and decides to hatch a cunning plan.

A.D.A: You think of yourself as an artist?

MORTEN: I think my work speaks for itself.

The A.D.A. shows Morten a photo of the crime scene and asks Morten to “compare this artist’s work with [his] own.”

Remember, Morten hasn’t been able to see any of those sweet, sweet crime scene photos he’s been craving, so he is INTO IT.

Cecilia waits for her grade.

But wait: something’s off.

MORTEN: At first blush, you might think this is unique. But it - it lacks understanding. Depth.

Yeah, doesn’t look like you’re going to get that A in murder, girlie.

"With the human canvas you have the opportunity to do true action painting.”

“Where’s the energy? Where’s the spatter? This is lifeless dreck! A cheap knockoff of my work.”

"Whoever did this is a talentless hack.”

Cecilia loses her shit at the criticism and storms the witness box declaring that she did this for Morten and that she loves him.

Morten is feeding off of the drama.

(Bonus sceencap in case you ever wondered what a vampire!Jared Harris coming for your neck might look like. I know some of y’all are probably into that.)

He cuts Cecilia down even further by declaring that she’s nothing like him and could never understand him.

Cecilia continues to proclaim her love as she’s dragged away.

Morten is pleased.

But don’t get cocky, kid.

Even though Cecilia got off (insanity), the A.D. A. is still sticking to her end of the deal. Morten’s getting that transfer to a federal prison he wanted.

A supermax prison.

A.D.A.: 23-hour lockdown, no visitors, no mail, no phone calls. No human contact for the rest of your life.

Morten whines that she can’t do that to him and they made a deal, etc. but too bad so sad.

He’s shoved into the van and whisked away.

VERDICT: A performance so adroit and layered it took me several days to get through this hourlong episode. The things this man can do with his face, I’m telling you! Three out of five Croziers.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #2007 #three croziers #tv series guest star

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joelyjo · 6 years ago

Text

Troglodytae - Chapter Two

Rating - Adult

Summary - When a party of cavers go missing whilst spelunking in Mammoth Cave National Park, Kentucky, Mulder and Scully are called to investigate. Soon, they uncover a dark and frightening secret of evolution hiding underground and find themselves in a race against time to get out alive.

Notes - I write slowly, so this has taken a while, probably long enough that anybody who read the first chapter has forgotten what the fuck actually happened. To that end, you can find it on AO3, should you wish to remind yourself of the story so far. Originally, this was begun for @viceversawrites and @softnow‘s 50 States of Us challenge, but it grew wings in the planning stage and became my first attempt at a proper casefile. Tagging @today-in-fic, @allyinthekeyofx, @peacenik0, @frangipanidownunder, @scully-eats-sushi and @i-gaze-at-scully in the hope they might like it!

Thanks super much to @scully-yeah-run and @lifeisshortdrinkthewine for beta work. I’ve stuck with British spellings because we all know they’re right. So there.

Chapter Two

MAMMOTH CAVE, KENTUCKY

He’d been in darkness before. When you’d descended into the bowels of the earth as many times as he had, you came to know darkness. At times, it was friendly, benign, a gentle, welcoming embrace that spoke of cosy nights tucked in bed, of peace and solitude. But other times it was chilling, unnerving, a threat veiled beneath silent obscurity.

This darkness was like liquid and he was submerged. It was the kind of darkness that robbed you of your best sense and replaced it with fear. Reuben knew his eyes were open, but he could see nothing. He blinked, and knew he was blinking, but there was no change in his field of vision. His body felt heavy, his limbs lead-like and ungainly. He was cramped into a tight hole, his legs pulled up in front of him as if he was a foetus. Cold, rough stone pressed at his back and beneath him and he felt his lungs straining for breath in the quiet. He listened. The sound of his breathing was suddenly abnormally loud and a wave of sheer terror passed through him. His heart was racing. He felt like prey. Lost. Alone. Part of him wanted to shout out, to cry for help, but another part told him to shut the hell up and keep quiet, for God only knew what was listening.

He stayed very still, purposefully, fairly sure that he was drifting in and out of consciousness, but unable to truly judge because of the dislocation of being in total blackness. Eventually, though, his body began to come back to itself and the heaviness that had filled his limbs seemed to soak away. He shifted his position and felt the tingle of pins and needles take hold in his legs. Wriggling his toes felt like he was moving another person’s body; every part of him was stiff, perishingly cold and numb. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the foul taste in his mouth.

The sensation of being watched seemed to have abated somewhat, and in its absence, he was suddenly overcome with a desperate urge to get out of wherever he was. He forced his reluctant body to move and realised that the hole he was in was only shallow, more of a shelf in the rock rather than any kind of passageway. He swung his feet downwards and realised that they were now planted on solid ground. Light. He needed light. His headtorch and the eyes and ears kit were gone so he patted his chest and was relieved to find that his internal pocket still contained one of his emergency glowsticks. A quick crack and dull yellow light began to spill from it, penetrating the darkness all around him.

But light brought with it shock and horror. He was in a narrow fissure in the rock and all around him were chambers of varying sizes, hollowed out. Some were several feet in height and width, others were slimmer; all had been physically carved from the rock, chipped away in a haphazard manner with rudimentary tools. Reuben held up the glowstick and saw that within each chamber was a body, some were almost skeletal, others were shrunken and leathery. He walked along the fissure, counting dozens of chambers, until he came across one that stopped him dead in his tracks.

Rachel.

She was wedged into the rockface, her face turned away from him, but even so, he knew it was her. Her distinctive red hair was matted and darkened with what looked like blood, and her arms were folded awkwardly around her body, as if she was embracing herself. Fear surged inside him as he considered the possibilities. “Rach!” he hissed and poked the glowstick at her. Her skin was pale and her lips were blue with cold. Please no, please no, he thought. Reluctantly, he pressed two fingers under her chin, waited a few seconds, held his breath. A faint pulse beat beneath his fingertips, weak and thready, and his breath gasped out in relief. She was alive. He tried her name again, but there was no response. She was out cold.

A tattoo of what do I do, what do I do was just establishing itself in his mind when he heard the tiniest of scraping sounds behind him and froze. Not daring to look back, his eyes searched the darkness in front of him even as his heartbeat sped up still further. Fuck. He needed to get out of here, needed to get them both out of here, while he was still able. He looked at Rachel, then reached out and touched her cheek. I’ll come back for you, he thought, I swear I will. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his caving instincts to take hold and he scanned the ground for footprints, looking to see which way the exit was. Cool air was funnelling onto his face, telling him that the way ahead was the way out. He took one last reluctant look at Rachel, then started to move.

The sensation that he was being watched from behind did not abate as he stumbled on weak and rubbery legs along the passageway. If I don’t look back, I can’t see it to confirm it’s there, he thought desperately. Just keep moving. Keep moving.

The passageway widened out into a larger cavern, and all of a sudden he recognised where he was. Stumbling in his eagerness, his legs still rubbery beneath him, he sped up. Whatever it was behind him stayed in the shadows, but kept pace. Occasionally he heard it – a soft shuffle, a scrape or a shush of breath. His heart hammered in his chest and sweat pearled on his forehead. He’d have run if he could, but in the narrow tunnels and passages of limestone, he was limited. He had no idea why it wasn’t attacking him again, why it seemed to be allowing him to escape without any attempt to halt him. It was almost as if it wanted him to get away.

When eventually daylight flashed in front of him as a pale spot of light, he almost cried with the relief. He tried to yell, but his mouth was dry and his brain was sluggish. Pushing forward, he felt the presence behind him hang back, then, just as he was nearing the exit, something sharp hit him in the back of the neck. He’d had horsefly bites before and they fucking stung, but this was sharper, more piercing. He slapped his hand up to his neck with a cry. “Jesus… what the fuck?!”

He wheeled on the spot and searched behind him and that’s when he saw it. Crouched high up on the wall, like a spider dangling from a web, a slim almost childish figure with sparkling crystalline skin that rippled and shifted as he looked at it. He blinked. His eyesight was clouding, his balance wobbling. Turning, he stumbled away, towards the light, crying out, “Help me! Help…”

THE MEDICAL CENTER AT CAVERNA, HORSE CAVE, KENTUCKY

Reuben Waller looked like he’d seen a ghost. Or something. His face was pale as chalk and his eyes bore huge, pronounced shadows beneath them. Lying atop the clinical white sheets of his hospital bed, Scully thought that he seemed half like a wraith himself. She stood at the foot of the bed and once again studied his chart with interest. Reuben had indeed walked out of Mammoth Cave exactly the way he’d gone in, but after that, things had taken a serious turn for the worse.

“He’s out cold then?” Mulder asked, framed in the doorway like some Wild West hero, his shirt-sleeves rolled up and his gun resting in its holster at his waist. Scully glanced up at him. He was leaning against the frame, his legs crossed at the ankle, blocking out most of the light from the hall.

“They had to sedate him. He needed a massive dose of Versed to stop him ranting and endangering himself, so I’m not sure he’s going to wake up any time soon. They’ve got him on IV fluids, but physically there’s nothing much wrong with him. The CAT scan was clear, and he has no broken bones or internal injuries. But he was completely delirious with what appeared to be an acute psychotic episode.” She frowned at the chart. “I’m interested in the bloodwork though. Something just seems amiss to me, Mulder. Dehydration can make you confused, but he was ranting completely outrageous things as if he was under the influence of something… perhaps a hallucinogen. I’ve requested a tox screen so hopefully that will give us some insight.”

“He did seem as if he was on something.” He drummed his hand on the doorframe, then pushed off and paced into the room, stopping beside Reuben’s bed. He stared for a long moment. “But what if he was telling the truth, Scully?”

“Mulder, you heard what he was saying. Something human but not human? That glittered? Surely you don’t need me to tell you how ridiculous that sounds? Not to mention how scientifically improbable.”

“I don’t think Jeff Bellamy thinks we’re dealing with the scientifically probable.”

She looked away from him, back to the chart in front of her and slid the witness statement Reuben had made out from beneath the chart. Her eyes flowed over the words once again. A slight figure, possibly five and a half feet in height, with skin that glittered and refracted the light and cold, silver-white eyes. It was utterly fantastical. Clearly it had to be the product of a vivid imagination or a particularly expansive trip.

“So, what? You believe there’s some creature down there with glittering skin attacking people?” She was unable to keep the scepticism from her tone. Seven years in Mulder’s company had admittedly taught her that despite everything science currently knew and understood, there were still plenty of things it couldn’t yet explain. But, until it did, she wasn’t about to jump to a conclusion based on the strength of just two reports. She needed some actual solid evidence.

“I don’t know yet,” Mulder said. “But I do know I want to speak to Jeff Bellamy again and take another look at that video tape with him.”

What Scully wanted now was the results of the tox screen. And to talk to Reuben herself. She felt sure that with a dose of sedative inside him and an exchange of rational words, she’d be able to get through whatever fear or delirium the caver was experiencing and hear a more reliable tale of what happened to him. “I’m going to stay here for a while in case he wakes up. But it could be a while.”

He nodded. “Okay.” His hand reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Catch you later, then.”

***

Mulder made his way back to Mammoth Cave via a series of back roads, mulling on their encounter with Reuben Waller, such as it was. The account of the strange, sparkling figure with white eyes preyed on his imagination, and he slowly began piecing together the information they had and combining it with the rest of what he knew. It was already growing dark when he pulled into the small parking lot in front of the superintendent’s office, a pinkish sky giving way to banks of curling dark grey clouds. Once again, the building seemed deserted, but now he knew where he was headed, he slipped quietly through to knock on Jeff Bellamy’s office door.

A moment’s pause, no doubt as Bellamy checked through the peephole for who was disturbing him, and then the door swung open to reveal the chief ranger. “Agent Mulder,” he greeted and stepped aside to allow Mulder to enter his office. “I’m sorry I had to leave you at the hospital. I would gladly have stayed, but I had some phone calls to make and another meeting with the Chief of Police.”

“Who is?”

“The Chief? Mitch Allen. You’ll meet him soon enough, I have no doubt.” Bellamy made a face. “Imagine a human incarnation of a mosquito, both in physical appearance and manner, and you’ve got Mitch. My best advice would be to keep swatting him away before he bites your ass and leaves you with a welt the size of Brazil.”

Mulder smiled at Bellamy’s gallows humour. “I’ll remember that for when I get the pleasure of meeting him.”

“You’re here to look at the tape, aren’t you?”

Bellamy pulled out a chair and waved to Mulder to have a seat.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it a couple times already, but I’d like to watch it with you if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

Mulder reached into his breast pocket and removed the VHS tape he’d taken from Skinner’s office, then handed it to Bellamy, who walked around to a TV that hung slightly askew on a wall mount. After inserting the tape, Bellamy fiddled a moment with the remote control to rewind and restart the recording. “I asked for you specifically, Agent Mulder, when I contacted the FBI. Despite what Mitch Allen thinks, I don’t believe that what we have here is a common or garden-variety murderer. I swear… there’s something on that tape. Mitch says it’s a spot on the tape, that I’m seeing things, but… well, you see what you think.”

He pressed play and the tape began to roll. Mulder watched as the scene he’d seen before started to play out before him once again, keeping his eyes trained on the darkness that surrounded Reuben and Rachel. Mulder’s eyes were sharper than most, but when Bellamy called out, ‘There!’, he had to ask what it was he saw.

“Where? Show me again.”

The ranger froze the tape and rewound it a touch, then played it again. “There.” He pointed one of his thick fingers at the fuzzy picture on the screen. Mulder took a step closer and scrutinised the screen, unsure what he was supposed to be looking at.

“I don’t see it,” he said.

“See those two white dots? Behind and to the right of Rachel.”

Mulder froze, mid-breath, as he realised what Bellamy was pointing at. He was right. There, in the dark and shadows behind where Rachel was standing, were two tiny silver-white smudges of light. They were so small and so faint that you had to really be looking for them to see them. It was hard to say if it was light that was being refracted from elsewhere or if it was being emitted from something. They were still, unmoving, and utterly compelling.

Eyes in the dark.

“You see them now?”

“Yeah…” Mulder’s head tilted quizzically as the tape continued to roll and the white dots shifted slightly, then vanished.

“I’m not imagining it, am I?” said Bellamy. He looked from Mulder to the image on the television and back again, as if he expected Mulder to disagree, meaning he’d have to launch into a further explanation.

Mulder’s voice was quiet. “You’re not.” He took the remote control from Bellamy and rewound the section of tape again, playing it through a third time. As the white spots of vague light appeared and disappeared, he was reminded suddenly of a nature programme he’d watched just the other week where deep sea fish flashed lights in the ocean abyss to attract prey. “I’d like the tape back please, Mr. Bellamy. I want to send it to someone back in D.C. who might be able to rescue something from the blackness.”

“Sure.” Bellamy ejected the tape and handed it to Mulder. “Do you believe me, then?”

“I believe you.”

***

The evening wore on and still Reuben Waller’s sedation appeared to have him tight in its grip. Doctors and nurses came in and out, checking vitals and administering various tests, but all seemed content to let their patient sleep. Scully alternately paced around the room or sat mulling over the information they’d collected so far. Every bone she had in her body told her that white-eyed, cave-dwelling monsters were the stuff of comic books and horror stories, not real life, but the longer she sat, and the more times she read Reuben’s witness statement, the more she found herself becoming unnerved by the tale. Her mind flicked back through past cases – Tooms, the African monster who drained his victim’s pituitary glands, the Flukeman, those strange mothmen in the Florida forest – and she considered the possibility of Reuben’s description having some credence. Evolution had shown itself to create some fantastical things before, given enough years and the right conditions, and she’d seen them with her own eyes. What was to say that the depths of limestone caves couldn’t create something as strange and inexplicable as the things she’d seen already? Whatever it was had clearly been enough to frighten Reuben Waller to within an inch of his life.

In her pocket, Scully’s phone trilled loudly, and she jumped, glancing around the room, as she fished it out and answered, “Scully.”

“I think you should call it a night,” said Mulder. “It’s past eight.”

“Mulder, it’s fine. I… I’m waiting for him to wake up. There are questions I want to ask him.”

“He’s not going anywhere, Scully. They pumped him so full of drugs Keith Richards’d be jealous.” Over the line, she heard him close a door and the soft thwump of his jacket hitting a bed. He was at the motel. Scully closed her eyes, thinking of kicking off her shoes, of taking a shower, of the relief of stretching out on a soft mattress.

“Scully?”

She drew in a sharp breath and realised that her attention had drifted and she was still on the phone. “Yeah?”

“I’ll order pizza,” he sing-songed in her ear and she felt herself smiling, despite herself. Pizza sounded like a dream.

“Okay, okay. Pepperoni, mushrooms, green pepper, diet soda. And don’t let them skimp on the cheese.”

“Never.”

He hung up and Scully pocketed her phone. She got to her feet and afforded Reuben a last, long look before replacing the witness statement back into the file and tucking it under her arm.

She got a cab back to the motel Mulder had booked for them just out of town and checked in. Inside her room, the air was hot, stale and unmoving. She switched on lights, toed off her shoes and turned the AC on full, before heading to the bathroom and firing up the shower. She peeled off her clothes and, when the water was running at a constant temperature, stepped under the stream. For a long moment, she stood like a thirsty tree beneath the water, letting it pound over her and loosen the crick in her neck and soothe the ache in her back, allowing it to remind her of things other than petrified grown men and monsters in the dark.

When the water eventually ran cold, she stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in the complimentary robe and returned to the bedroom. “Hey Scully,” said Mulder from the bed. “I heard you through the wall.” He was sitting propped up against the headboard in his jeans and that familiar grey t-shirt she always saw him wearing when she pictured him in her head. His hair was freshly washed and fluffy, sticking up in every direction and a tiny piece of toilet paper betrayed how he’d nicked his chin when shaving.

“Hey.”

“Pizza’s on the way,” he said.

“Good, I’m starving.” She let out a long sigh. “Although I’m so tired, you might have to feed it to me.”

She sank down on the edge of the bed and began towelling her hair, only to feel him shift behind her and lay his hands on her shoulders. His fingers squeezed once, twice, and then began working their way up to her neck. The gentle pressure soon had her eyes closing in relief, and Scully rolled her head, releasing a slow moan as he kneaded at the knots in her tired muscles.

“You’re tense,” he said, his voice low. She hummed.

“I feel like I’ve been sitting still, waiting and thinking we should be doing something more all day. If it wasn’t already dark outside, I’d go for a run to shake it off.”

His lips joined his hands on her neck, kissing gently over her shower-soft skin. “I can think of something else we could do to shake it off…”

“Mulder…” she murmured. “We said nothing like this while we were working.”

He stopped and drew back but said nothing further. Instead, he let his hands knead at her neck and shoulders, soft and firm in the same moment. Scully sighed, feeling her traitorous body respond to him. She pulled the towel off her head and arched back into his touch. So much for standing by her own rules, she thought, as Mulder slid around and pulled her up so they were facing one another.

“You know what I think about rules, Scully,” he said, and his breath puffed gently on her neck.

He pushed her bathrobe open, his hands running over her bare shoulders and down her upper arms, then leaned in to kiss her. At first, she didn’t respond, tired to the bone, then slowly, her mouth opened and the kiss deepened.

His clothes disappeared, and he laid her back onto the bed, her head amid the pillows. They began to sink into an age-old rhythm. The bed creaked as they shifted against one another; he was hard above her, lean, taut lines and his thick cock pressed against her thigh. Scully’s skin was sparking. So much for rules, indeed, she thought, as he pushed his way slickly inside her.

Her back arched as he slid in to the hilt, wanting to draw him still further inside her. Above her, Mulder groaned a breathy ‘fuck’ against her neck and rested in stillness a moment. The feeling of him inside her was already flashing pleasure through her body. She shifted and grabbed at him, wanting him to move, to satisfy her need. Reading her desire perfectly, his hips started to move. Beneath them, the bed creaked, and the cheap headboard banged steadily against the wall as he rocked into her.

For a long while, there was nothing but gathering pleasure. She sought out his mouth and he kissed her deeply in answer, then slowed his rhythm just enough to make her buck her hips beneath him. The change of angle was enough and with a cry, she fell over the edge, orgasm rippling through her in pulses. Seconds later, she felt Mulder lose his own control and he pushed into her hard as he emptied himself.

Afterwards, Mulder rolled away to lie beside her. Their hands reached out across the sheet and their fingers intertwined. They laid in silence while their breathing evened, then Scully snuggled up against his side. He tugged her closer and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ve always felt like I’ve needed this when we’ve had one of these cases,” she said once her heartbeat had steadied.

She felt Mulder’s chuckle rather than saw it. “Damnit Scully… Why didn’t you say?! Think of all the times I could’ve gotten laid and instead I sat alone in my motel room watching crappy TV.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled again, the audacious, insufferable man that he was. It was the kind of typically Mulder comment that she had grown used to ignoring and she did just that, continuing, propping herself up on her elbow to regard him properly.

“I don’t know what it is, maybe some kind of reaction to the loss of life… Like a reaffirmation of humanity in the face of inhumanity.”

“Those are some big ideas, Scully. You sure it’s not just plain and simple horniness?” He reached out and thumbed her nipple until it rose again into a peak. She cast him a now vaguely irritated glance; he wasn’t taking her seriously.

“Mulder…” She issued his name as a flat reprimand. “This case is tragic already – potentially six people are dead. And whether that’s from your highly improbable cave-dwelling mystery creature, a serial killer or just terrible misfortune, it’s still tragic.” She paused, reaching down and grabbing the comforter. The AC had really kicked in now and as the sweat cooled, she shivered. “It bothered me how frightened they said he was. Anything that makes a grown man react with that level of fear…” Her voice trailed off.

Mulder rolled onto his side, mirroring her, and propped his head up on his hand too. “You’ve seen all kinds of evil, Scully. Things that would make other people quiver in fear.”

“I may have seen it. But that doesn’t mean that it affects me any less.”

He nodded. They fell quiet and, in the silence, there came a knock at the door. “Pizza,” said Mulder, glad of the distraction. He flipped out of bed, grabbed up his shorts and pulled them on. “Stay there and I’ll get the door.”

After a brief exchange of words at the door, Mulder returned with the pizza box, spinning it like a basketball on one finger, then tossing it onto the bed. “Dig in, Scully.”

She scooted forwards and opened up the box, taking a deep breath of the smell within. “God, that smells so good.”

They ate too quickly and far too much, Mulder finishing off the final slice and scraping the last of the melted cheese from the bottom of the box with his fingers. “Don’t you want to know what I found out, then?” he asked as he licked his fingers clean. “When I went back to see Bellamy?”

Scully looked up and met Mulder’s eyes. It was all she had to do. “You found something on the tape.”

“You’re not going to believe it, Scully, but I’m telling you, there’s something down in those caves. And I’ll bet you a stuffed crust that it’s not human.”

“Not human?”

“Well, not human as we know it.” He stood and beat pizza crumbs from his chest, then crossed the room and reached into the pocket of his jacket, removing the VHS tape he’d borrowed from Bellamy. He went to the cheap television that hung slightly askew on the far wall and pushed the tape into the built-in deck. “Check this out.”

“Mulder, this is the tape we saw with Skinner.”

“It is, but I’m going to show you something I bet you missed first time around.”

He pressed play on the tv and came to sit on the end of the bed near her feet. The tape sputtered and came to life and the scene they’d watched before began to play again. Under the covers, Scully brought her legs up and hugged them, suddenly feeling irrationally chilled. Mulder stayed silent and still as the tape rolled, then jumped to his feet and pressed pause. “Look there.”

He pointed at the screen. Scully frowned and squinted. “See the two white dots?” Mulder prompted her.

“Yeah…”

“Watch them. The way they move.”

The tape unfroze and started to play again. Scully watched.

As the white dots shifted, then disappeared, Mulder rewound the tape and ran it through again, but she didn’t need to see it again. “They’re eyes,” she said in as level a tone as she could muster and met his gaze. “Maybe a deer? Lost in the caves, perhaps.”

Mulder sighed. “A deer,” he repeated flatly. “Scully, sometimes I wonder if you disagree with me just because you get a kick out of it. No way are they the eyes of a deer. That movement… the stare and the shift in position… That’s predatory. Whatever it is, it was stalking those cavers.”

“I know what you want me to say, Mulder, but you have no concrete proof here, just a video tape of something that could be any number of things.”

“Which is why I’m going down there, Scully. Tomorrow. And Jeff Bellamy’s coming with me.”

“You’re going down there?” Scully could not keep the incredulity out of her voice. “Mulder are you insane? We may have no idea what’s down there, and whatever it is, seven full grown men and women have been attacked and six of them are still missing. What’s to say the same won’t happen to you?”

“I don’t see that there’s any other choice. It’s shown no desire to leave the confines of the caves, so if we want to find those cavers, and Rachel Simmons, we’ve got to go after it.”

“You don’t even know what it is!”

Mulder stood, huffed softly and picked up his fallen t-shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head. “No… but I have a theory. It needs a little corroboration, but I’m working on that.” He smiled and bobbed his eyebrows. “Wanna hear it?”

Scully made a face but Mulder took her lack of verbal response as an affirmative.

“Four thousand years ago, American Indians discovered the Kentucky Mammoth Caves contained extensive deposits of nitre salt, gypsum, selenite and other minerals. Successive generations mined the caves for two thousand years, gathering the minerals for use in medicine and trade, then quite abruptly, and for no known reason, archaeological evidence dries up and it appears that, for some reason, the native culture stopped mining the caves. But the mineral deposits are still there even today and there is much evidence to suggest that American Indians continued to live in the area up until the present day. So what made them leave the caves? What stopped them doing something they’d done for two thousand years?”

Scully stared at him, her eyes darkening. “You think they were chased out by whatever it is you think is still living in those caves? Mulder, you’re talking about an event that occurred two thousand years ago. It’s highly questionable if anything in biology has a lifespan that long, let alone something big enough to take down a human being.”

“Come on, Scully, since when have genetic mutants conformed to the laws of science?”

She shook her head. “Even if you’re right, Mulder, why now?”

“That I don’t know. Maybe those cavers were exploring deeper than anyone had explored before? Maybe it felt threatened by the encroachment? Maybe it’s been dormant or hibernating?” With a shrug of his shoulders, he sat back down on the bed. “Maybe if we find it, we’ll understand more about it and its motivations?”

“And what about Reuben Waller? Does his condition not concern you?”

Mulder twisted to look her in the eyes again. “I know it bothers you, Scully,” he said, softly, and he reached for her hand. “But the only way those cavers are going to be recovered is to go underground and find them.”

“I’d just like to know a little more about what we’re dealing with before we send anybody down there unprepared for what they might meet. At least wait until we’ve had chance to speak to Reuben,” she countered. Mulder stared at her, then acquiesced.

“Okay, I agree. That’s logical.” He pulled on his jeans and then picked up the empty pizza box, crushing it as flat as he could. “I’m going to take this out to the trash and then I guess I should get some sleep.”

Unspoken in his words was the way they’d ended every night out in the field in the last few months - should they share a room or not? Scully looked up at him, now standing by the door, his eyes fixed on hers. After everything they’d spoken about this evening, and regardless of her scepticism, being alone wasn’t high on her list of preferred options. “You’re coming back, aren’t you?” she asked.

His smile was small, nervy of rejection. “Sure. If you’ll have me?”

She dropped her chin and quirked her eyebrow at him. “Well, the pizza man’s long gone.”

Mulder’s laugh was cut off as he walked out and behind him, the door slammed shut.

***

Scully’s cell phone rang shortly after dawn broke, waking them both with a jump. As she grabbled for it off the night stand, Mulder rolled onto his back and groaned. He’d slept fitfully throughout the night, waking repeatedly with his brain on high alert, questions running exhaustively through his mind, and even as he shifted into full consciousness, he could feel the lack of good quality sleep permeating his bones.

“Scully,” he heard her say into the phone and felt the bed shift slightly as she sat up fully, twisting away from him and swinging her legs out.

Still with eyes closed, Mulder stretched and sighed, then tried to listen to the voice on the other end of the line. It was female, possessing of a clipped, professional tone and Scully was listening closely.

When she hung up, she turned to him and said, “That was the hospital. Reuben Waller’s sedation has worn off and he’s awake and calmer. He’s asking for us.”

Mulder opened his eyes. “For us?”

“Yes, he couldn’t remember names, but he asked for the Feds.”

She rose and he was treated to a sight he didn’t think he would get used to if it continued for his entire life – Dana Scully fully naked and at ease in his presence. He let his eyes drift down the curve of her back before asking, “How is he?”

“Distracted. Desperate. He keeps asking to go back down into the caves, but so far they’ve put him off. They’ve got a psychiatrist coming to see him during morning rounds.” She headed for the bathroom but paused and turned to face him in the doorway. “Oh, and the tox screen is through.”

He nodded. “Then let’s get going. I’ll shower in my room.”

The temperature was already well into the 70s by the time they arrived at the hospital, and it quickly became clear that news of Reuben Waller’s recovery had been made public, for a throng of reporters was gathered outside the main entrance, several of whom were engaged in recording live reports when Mulder and Scully arrived. As they weaved through the crowds, Mulder overheard comments about ‘federal officers’ and ‘increasing police presence’ mixed in with ‘the Mammoth Cave monster’. He glanced sideways at Scully as they passed through the automatic doors and, as expected, she rounded on him immediately. “The Mammoth Cave Monster?” she said with acerbic tone. “Where’s that come from, Mulder?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me, Scully. You know what these guys are like. Anything for a headline. Kinda catchy though, wouldn’t you say?”

Her eyes narrowed as she hit the call button for the elevator and Mulder looked down at his shoes, hiding his amusement. There was nothing Scully liked less than the press getting hold of details of a case they were working on, much less when they sensationalised it into a real-life horror story.

When, moments later, the doors of the elevator opened with a sigh and they stepped out onto a brightly lit, generic hospital corridor, they were immediately confronted by a young deputy. “Excuse me, I need to stop you here. What’s your business on this ward?” His eyes flicked over their suits as he tried to evaluate who they were. Mulder and Scully reached simultaneously into their breast pockets and withdrew their badges, holding them up for the deputy’s attention.

“Special agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI, we’re here to speak with Reuben Waller,” said Mulder.

The deputy visibly drew himself up, his cheeks colouring. “Oh, agents, my chief told me to keep a look out for you guys. Sorry for the, er, old stop right there routine; we’ve had news reporters up here in the last hour trying to get on the ward so…” His voice drifted off as he did a double take to check out Scully, which made Mulder bristle and bite.

“I’m pleased to hear you think we look like journalists, deputy.”

“It’s fine,” Scully said to the deputy, offering him a smile and dismissing Mulder’s comment with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure you must have your work cut out here.”

“I think this is the most exciting news this part of Kentucky has had in a generation,” replied the deputy with a rueful chuff of laughter. He turned and began to lead them down the corridor. “The Chief is trying to keep everything under wraps, but it’s not working all that well. Everyone’s spooked, agents. There’s talk of monsters and all kinds of shit.” He glanced at Scully again. “Is that why you’re here? Because there’s a monster down there?”

Scully drew in a quietly exasperated breath. “We’re here to help recover the missing cavers.”

They came to an admitting desk where several nurses were perched on high-backed stools filling charts and talking quietly. From behind the desk, a male doctor in dark blue scrubs appeared and came towards them. He was fair-haired, fair-skinned and when he spoke, it was with a Scandanavian accent. “Can I help you? I’m Dr. Svensson.”

“These guys are the feds,” said the deputy, helpfully.

“Ah,” Svenson said, “I presume you’re here to talk to our resident celebrity?”

“If you’re referring to Reuben Waller, yes we are,” said Scully. “And there should be some results for me too – a toxicology screen?”

“Yes, yes, there’s a tox screen. The lab brought it up first thing this morning. Said there was a rush on it.”

Mulder used Svensson and the deputy’s distraction to step around Scully and slipped off down the corridor, peering through the series of propped open doors until he found Reuben Waller, sitting up in his bed and staring out of the window. The caver appeared in good physical health, but even from ten feet away, Mulder could see the anxiety rippling through him. Every muscle in his body was tense and his eyes were fixed unseeing on the cloudless sky.

Mulder entered, and as he did so, Reuben’s concentration broke. Startled like a wary bird ready to take flight, he looked sharply towards Mulder in the doorway.

“Reuben Waller?” Reuben’s answering nod was barely noticeable; he seemed as if he was ready to break and run at any second. “Special Agent Mulder with the FBI. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t want to talk about how I feel,” said Reuben sharply. “Why does nobody seem to understand that? I want to get the hell out of here. My partner needs me to help her.”

Mulder came further into the room. “And that’s what we’re trying to do, Mr. Waller. But we need you to help us help her.”

Reuben shook his head and closed his eyes a moment, as if summoning calm. “I don’t want to seem rude here, Mr… What did you say your name was?

“Mulder,” said Mulder.

“Mr Mulder… But someone like yourself, standing here in a fancy suit… You don’t know the first thing about what needs to be done to get Rach back. I can get her back, but none of these sons of bitches are letting me leave this room!”

“I know how frustrated you must feel,” said Mulder, reading the party line even as he imagined himself in Reuben’s position, with Scully missing. Nothing on this earth could have kept him chained to a hospital bed if he’d known she was in danger. Frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it.

Reuben rolled his eyes. “You have no fucking clue how I feel,” he spat and looked away, back out of the window.

Mulder pulled up a plastic chair and sat, then leaned forward and hissed, “Listen to me… I know you’re the one who can show us where Rachel Simmons is, and believe me, nothing would please me more than to have your help, but they’re not letting you out of here until you can demonstrate that you’re of sound mind and no risk to yourself or others. So yelling and shouting and losing your shit, no matter how angry you feel, isn’t going to help your case. Now, like I said, I’d like to help you get your friend back and I’m sure you think you know how to do that, but unless you want to end up back in those caves with your own life in danger again, you’ll shut the hell up and behave rationally.”

Reuben’s lip curled and for a moment, Mulder thought he was going to fly out of the bed and pummel him, but then slowly, the caver appeared to subside.

“I need you to tell me what’s down there, Reuben.”

***

Scully had to re-read the toxicology report three times over before she was able to form coherent thoughts about its results. She’d been expecting something, but not this. Running in Reuben Waller’s blood was a plant toxin derived from the Datura genus. And with that knowledge, Scully’s brain flew into overdrive. Datura was a rarely encountered toxin but it gave symptoms that suddenly made Reuben’s delirium from the night before slide into perspective.

The caver had been drugged.

Tucking the report under her arm, she went in search of Mulder, finding him stepping out of Reuben’s room. “Scully,” he said. “We have to get this guy out of here. He knows where the cavers are.”

“Mulder, there’s something you need to see.” She thrust the toxicology report at him and carried on talking while he read it. “These are Reuben Waller’s blood results from last night. There’s evidence of a plant toxin I’ve seen only once in my life in his bloodstream.”

“Datura.”

“Yes, it causes delirium, an inability to judge fantasy from reality, tachycardia, photophobia and amnesia.”

Mulder hummed. “You think he was under the influence of this last night?”

“I’m sure of it. The quantities present in his blood are enough to have caused acute psychosis.”

“Well, that explains why he was one fry short of a Happy Meal last night,” said Mulder. “But how did he get that amount in his blood?”

“I’m guessing he ingested it. Perhaps as he was exiting the cave. He hadn’t eaten in days.”

“Datura is a plant, yes?” Scully nodded. “Plants don’t grow underground. They need light to photosynthesise.”

“Well, yes—”

“So how could he have eaten a plant toxin when he’s been underground for the last 48 hours?”

She huffed out a breath. She hated that he was so good at poking holes in her theories. “I don’t know, Mulder, but that’s definitely what it is.”

“American Indians have used plant-based medicines for thousands of years, Scully. There’s also considerable evidence that they tipped their arrows and darts with various poisons derived from rattlesnake venom and poisonous plants for the purposes of hunting and battle.”

With an arch of her brow, Scully replied, “You’re still labouring on this theory of yours...”

“Prove me wrong, if you can,” Mulder challenged. “I’m just putting together the pieces as best I can. Reuben says he saw something down there and even taking into account the likelihood of his being drugged, his word remains the only actual evidence we’ve got of what happened to those cavers and to Reuben and Rachel.”

“Okay, okay, so say you’re right, then,” Scully bit back. “What do you think actually happened?”

Mulder glanced down the corridor. The charge desk was just a dozen paces away and it was clear that the nurses had stopped their chatter and were almost certainly trying to eavesdrop. He took Scully by the arm and pulled her into an empty room then lowered his voice. “I think whatever it is down there is drugging its victims with something, then while they are insensible, it takes them deeper underground.”

“For what reason? And what purpose?”

“Maybe it’s defensive, protecting its territory.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The original party of cavers was on a ‘wild’ tour through less well-known passages of the caves. Maybe they accidentally strayed too far. As for purpose, I don’t know yet. But if you recall the X-File on Thomas O’Rourke, those bodies were desiccated and appeared as if they’d been placed in storage. Maybe that’s what this thing does. It just stashes these people so they can’t bother it again. Or maybe the fact that they are desiccated is the clue.”

Scully felt a shiver run through her as her imagination tore off after Mulder’s theory. Bodies could be desiccated by virtue of having spent a long time underground, but they could also be desiccated by having had all their fluids drained away. She closed her eyes a moment and gathered herself. Why the hell was this bothering her so much? As Mulder had said last night, she’d seen far worse. Clearing her throat, she threw herself back into the discussion.

“And Reuben and Rachel?”

“That was more spur of the moment. They were attacked in a hurry. My guess is that it saw them and reacted on instinct. Like a mother protecting the nest.”

“The nest, Mulder? You think this thing is not alone?”

Mulder didn’t reply. There was no need to, for Scully was quite able to imagine the implications of that possibility. She swallowed.

“But whatever it is, the only way we’ve got any chance of getting Rachel Simmons and those cavers out alive is to let Reuben lead us to where they are.”

“And you want me to sign his release papers, is that it?”

“He can leave AMA any time he wants, but he doesn’t know that. I don’t want him realising he can either because we all know what’s going to happen if he does. He’ll be down underground on his own faster than we could follow him. And I’m not about to let that happen.”

#txf fanfic #txf #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #50 states of us #my fic #feedback always appreciated!#if you wanna reblog that'd be great #thank you kindly sirs

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legion1993 · 5 years ago

Text

Is It True?

AN: i love amazing writers. i love writing amazing pieces. this piece goes out to @icantlivewithyou in celebration of her 800 followers challenge! hope this makes you smile!

prompt “you’re really pregnant?”

pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

summery: its a secret!

Masterlist

8 years ago, you were a graduate student...

8 years ago you got an internship with Wayne Enterprises!

8 years ago was the first encounter you ever had with the Batman. he save your life.

not too long after that you had a magical date with your boss Bruce Wayne! this began your magical journey.

6 years later you are at the office and lunch time roles around. you and Bruce would normally go out for lunch at the usual fancy restaurant. you loved your time with Bruce, but today was different you walked into his office and he has a strange look to his eye...

Bruce: “close the door love and come here...”

you close the door and go over to the desk he turns to face you welcoming you into his lap...

YN: “hey baby... are you ready for lunch?”

Bruce: “we are not going to lunch today... we will do dinner instead but right now can i show you something... i feel like i need to confide this to you, we have been together for a while now and im looking forward to many more years with you but not without you knowing my biggest well kept secret...”

YN: “Bruce whatever you have to tell me, i’ll go into it with you. i love you Bruce! you know that! so what is it that you wish to share with me?”

Bruce: “well first we have to get up off this chair... ive already cleared us to go for the rest of the day... think of this as a vacation! a small one where we arent going far but yet we are gonna have traveled the distances...”

you were now very curious... you had no idea what was about to happen... but got up off your boyfriends lap and held his hand as he led you to the wall pannel, he took his other hand and placed it to the wall.

it then spoke...

AI: “good afternoon mr wayne...”

you were amazed that you never knew about this panel being here... but you walked inside with Bruce as he spoke next.

Bruce: “take us to the cave!”

immediately you were both on one crazy roller coaster ride... it was a tunnel system that seemed to go from the top of wayne tower to some underground cavern...

the ride stopped and Bruce once more spoke...

Bruce: “through these doors is a world that no-one but Alfred has known about like ever... now to you i present this my most valuable secret... the entire reason behind the tunnel system. the entire reason behind all my so called late nights at the office or pre-preparations for a gala that is months away... well i never actually ever left the manor.. id be down here working out, training, and monitoring the city... you may exit the doors when your ready...”

you went passed Bruce and the doors opened automatically... you walked out onto a literal rock solid floor, and into a cavern where tech and a bunch of equipment lay around all over the place...

you wandered around a bit before arriving at the main area, or what assumed was the main area for it had a really big computer setup with 6 different screens and one tiny ass keyboard. the computers powered up and revealed a giant bat symbol... thats when it hit you like a freight train.

you turned to Bruce and decided to test your theory make sure it was true...

you went into a low spin kick to which Bruce jumped over. blocking each move you threw at him you had to now think quickly... you decided to pull a Natasha romanov and wrap your legs around his neck flipping him to the ground but he had grabbed your wrist and twisted your arm when you did that.

Bruce got off of you and smiled as he extended his hand to you...

Bruce: “if you wanted to test my skills how was that?”

YN: “you’re batman... why didnt you tell me sooner?”

Bruce could only chuckle as he smiled...

Bruce: “i was afraid of how you would react... had i known you would react that way i would have told you sooner... are you ok love? you look kinda pale?”

you shook your head, truth be told you hadnt been feeling well for a few days now... you just thought you were getting ready for your period... but this morning you had thrown up... you werent sure what was wrong...

YN: “i think i need a doctor...”

Bruce picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the elevator you both emerge in the library of the manor, where Alfred greets both of you...

Alfred: “good heavens, is Miss YN alright?”

Bruce: “Alfred can you get the car and take us to Gotham General... please?”

Alfred: “of course sir...”

Alfred brings the car to the front of the house where you and Bruce now waiting Alfred opens the door helping to get both of you inside before driving reasonably to Gotham General.

upon arrival at the hospital, Bruce had Alfred once more help to get you out of the car... Alfred then went to park the car while Bruce carried you inside. walking inside he was greeted by 2 nurses...

Nurse 1: “how can we help you both tonight?”

Bruce: “my girlfriend is pale and not well we need a check up... run all the necessary tests rule out anything and everything please...”

Nurse 2: “okay sir calm down please... we need a name to process her under...”

Bruce: “Bruce wayne... i help fund this hospital... my girlfriends name is YN... she can barely stand on her own...”

the nurses both led you and Bruce through the secluded doors, to a room secluded and away from prying eyes... Bruce had laid you on the bed, you were not sure yet as to your condition but you had your suspicions...

it was about 5 minutes later when a doctor walked in one of the nurses who had helped you both in here walked in bringing several things with...

Dr. Jason: “Bruce, YN i’m Dr. Jason... i understand that your not feeling well tonight Miss... can you tell me how long you havent been well?”

YN: “its been on and off for the last week or so...”

Dr. Jason relays notes to the nurse and asks the next question...

Dr. Jason: “when was your last period? or do you know when your next period is supposed to arrive?”

you took one small breath before answering...

YN: “its due... as of yesterday...”

Dr. Jason: “let me guess it hasnt arrived yet, has it...?”

you shake your head, Dr. Jason has the nurse bring in an ultrasound cart... Bruce moves to the other side and gives the okay to do whatever necessary not wanting to leave your side...

Dr. Jason: “have you ever had an ultrasound before YN?”

you shoke your head...

Dr. Jason: “okay its very simple, nothing to worry about... now im gonna need access to your abdomen as well as your stomach... so your waist line on your pants is gonna have to go down a bit... i will place some gel on your stomach, then i will use this equipment to through the gel be able to take a peak inside your belly... see if there is anything noticeable...”

the doctor did as he said, placing the gel on made you shiver a bit but Bruce’s touch kept you nice and warm... as Dr. Jason now moved the transducer around on the gel, the nurse was ready to record anything found...

you and Bruce anxiously watched the screen... waiting for answers of any kind to come up... Dr Jason then stopped moving the tansducer, he kinda stayed in one spot for a while... it was then that he knew what the cause was... he had the nurse make a few notes and then sent her out of the room...

Dr. Jason: “it seems congratulations are in order...”

Bruce: “im sorry what do you mean Congratulations are in order...”

Dr Jason: “well it seems YN isnt sick sick after all its just a little bit of morning sickness...”

your eyes widened... before your head collapsed from the shock of the news... you knew full well what the congratulations was for but no one knew how shocked you were till you fainted...

it was 10 minutes later when you woke again to find Bruce filling out paper work, after being told by Dr Jason not to worry too much that you would wake eventually that you fainted from the aftershock of the news...

Bruce’s head swam with the thoughts of being a father, sure something he had thought about but never dreamed would ever happen. a few moments later Bruce looked up as he often did to find you sitting up and stretching slightly...

Bruce: “hey love how are you feeling?”

YN: “is it true?”

Bruce comes over to your side and smiles lovingly at you.

Bruce: “you’re really pregnant?

Bruce gestures to the ultrasound photo sitting beside you on the bed...

YN: “yes i am... i had my suspisions but i wasnt ever gonna admit them to anyone or myself... however, i know we never actually discussed the thought of kids, but believe me when i say i wouldnt be here today if you werent the most amazing man i had ever met...”

Bruce: “i cant even begin to describe how much excitement im holding in right now... i mean we are gonna be parents... its gonna be an honor to raise this child with you...”

Bruce with you holds the photo and then Bruce lifts your shirt to once again expose your belly and he places soft kisses to it, then he comes up to place a longing kiss to your lips... you were now in a happy place...

you finally felt like your life was finally underway...

#iclwy writing challenge

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peace-coast-island · 6 years ago

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Diary of a Junebug

Collecting jelly gyroids!

After the success of the last gyroid hunt, Jamie called me up for another mission. This time it involves jelly gyroids, which are very rare and difficult to find. An old friend called Jamie up after hearing that a crime organization had a hideout in an obscure city full of stolen items, including a bunch of jelly gyroids stolen from a museum fifty years ago. So the mission is to go out and retrieve those gyroids while evading the organization.

Usually Jamie would be there but she’s tied up with other commitments so this time it’s just me. The friend, Sandi, is the leader of a vigilante group who retrieves stolen items to return to their rightful place. For three years they’ve also been working to take down the crime organization that stole the items in the first place. Sandi used to be a part of the organization but then rebelled after a heist gone wrong killed her best friend and opened her eyes to the atrocities they committed.

Along with Sandi, there’s also DJ, a former data analyst turned white hat hacker, Em, a former secretary with a knack for chemistry, Dell, a farmer with mad parkour skills, and Lea, a detective/agent who can talk her way in and out of any situation no matter how sticky. They’re a nice gang and if given the opportunity I’d like to get to know them more. However since they’re always globetrotting, it’s hard to pin them down.

Aside from Jamie not being there, this mission is different as they have someone else helping out. A former crime leader known as Shadow Realm is calling some of the shots. From what I gather, the others don’t really like him - partly because he’s known to be sketchy, but also his attitude and demeanor is off putting. According to DJ, Shadow Realm and Sandi’s partnership is complicated and the easiest way to sum it up is that they have a hate/respect thing.

Normally Sandi and the gang would wing it, but not with Shadow Realm around. After seeing him for the first time through video chat, I’m glad I never got to see him in person. Just the vibe he gives off makes me uncomfortable, like he’s judging me with every move, waiting to pounce on me if I even blinked the wrong way. At least she warned me about him, like not asking questions or arguing or just saying anything at all in general. Basically it’s do as he says and get out of each other’s way.

When we set out to find the gyroids, Sandi, Dell, and Lea, were less on edge as they weren’t on surveillance. For the most part, the mission went smoothly. Sandi would scope out the place and give orders. DJ would hack the security system with ease while Dell and Lea provided distractions. As for me, I was the extra help as well as the gyroid collector.

The hideout consisted of four underground buildings, connected by underwater passageways. The old entrance was in Flyway Park, hidden near a nonworking payphone. When we stepped out of the dark tunnel, we thought we were in the wrong place because it looked like the inside of a fancy mansion. Gold statues, intricately woven tapestries, stained glass decor - who wants to bet that all of this was stolen? Many of the gyroids were hidden in the statues, which were decoys as they contained other stuff like fancy papers and jewelry. Getting past the guards was easy as they were way too chill and easily distracted. I guess nothing much happens here so that’s why they’re bad at their jobs.

While going through the underwater passages, which were anticlimactic in terms of expectations, at least according to Sandi, we took the time to get to know each other more. I didn’t expect them to give a rundown of their life’s story - not that I’m complaining, it’s just a bit unexpected given how secretive they usually are.

While she has a tendency to overshare, there’s still parts of Sandi’s life that’s still shrouded in mystery. There’s a lot about her past that she’s trying to piece together and the more she searched, the more questions popped up. Normally her stories are about previous heists, usually the dangerous ones, which happen about once a year.

However this story was different, because the gang wasn’t involved in a high stakes mission last year. Sandi casually revealed to me that she almost died from complications of measles but now she’s about 80% recovered. Lea believed that she contracted the virus during the lucky cat heist where an outbreak occurred at a clinic around the same time.

The illness hit Sandi hard so the gang had her checked in the hospital under a disguise. They knew something was wrong when they saw her rash, but never expected it to be something like measles. Sandi was put under strict isolation and monitored closely for complications, which did arise. Getting hit with measles and then encephalitis was like getting the wind knocked out of her twice. Things got so bad that the gang was convinced that she might actually die.

Although she eventually recovered, Sandi had to go through a lot of rehabilitation. It was slow and painful and scary, but her determination pulled through. For the most part she’s fine now aside from partial hearing loss, which she’s learned to deal with.

This gyroid heist is their first big mission since the gang got back to work six months ago. Dell remarked that it’s starting to be like the good old days again, which was what Sandi was aiming for when she took the job. She had complained that the others made her take it way too easy with previous missions since they started getting back into the routine. At this point she was happy to take any assignment, even one with Shadow Realm supervising.

The second and third buildings were similar to the first, although the guards there were a bit better at their jobs. As in, they were actually keeping guard instead of lounging around. Still, Sandi was able to easily outsmart them. The gyroids were more scattered about, many of them in difficult to reach places so we had to get creative when it came to retrieving them.

Finally we reached the last building, which is technically the first as that’s where the real entrance is. It’s also more heavily guarded and high tech as most activity is in that area. That explains why the building under Flyway was lax in terms of security - people rarely bother to go all the way there.

Along with guards, there’s also security robots. There’s a lab in the basement where they’re built and experimented on. There’s no way to tell which robots are functioning and which are duds as the whole building is like a testing field. Since they hover around and can’t be easily distracted like people, we have to get super sneaky. DJ managed to disable the security cameras, but the robots are another story. Apparently Sandi won a bet with Dell as both wondered if there was something that DJ couldn’t hack into.

Also, because it’s a high tech area, the gyroids and other stuff that was stored away were harder to access. It was the kind of challenge that DJ needed to get her confidence back after the robot fiasco. We worked quickly to retrieve all the gyroids without setting off the alarm or getting caught, which was not easy at all. As soon as we got the last gyroid, we made a quick escape through the underwater passage.

Since the mission recovered many more gyroids than we expected, we donated some to the Wizpire museum, gave one to Brewster, and put the others away for storage. After returning the original set to the old museum and figuring out what to do with the others, we spent the rest of the day at Wizpire taking a well deserved break.

junebug|previous|ao3|next

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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caddy-whump-us · 6 years ago

Text

Just some flashbacks. There’s more coming and more details coming too.

Ryan slid into the chair across the table from Julian and leaned over on his elbows. “Hey.”

But Julian was looking out the windows (and who could blame him: the epitome of “penthouse view” from the dining room, from almost any room, here in Jack’s city place) but looking at nothing in particular--the city view, the lights, whatever passed in front of his eyes.

Ryan tried again: “So I get the feeling you’ve been remembering more lately. Want to talk about it?”

Julian turned to him, cold. Talk. Those nerves were still raw and broken, still hadn’t healed from the electric shocks and quick scalpel slices that had severed them in the first place.

But Ryan was undeterred. “You know what I mean.”

Julian looked back out the windows at the falling gray evening light, chewed at his lip for a moment and finally pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and tapped at it for a moment. And Ryan waited, watching the light from the screen reflected in Julian’s dark eyes. He turned the phone around and held it out across the table.

[i don’t want to talk about it]

Ryan held out his hands. “I mean, that’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. I’m just saying that, if you do, you can talk about it with me.”

Julian was very still; Ryan watched him and he watched Ryan. They were enough alike, the two of them: the same research papers, the same projects, the same theories, the same procedures loomed over them both. The same great, faceless, impassive figures in their white coats stood distantly behind them. Truth and lies.

Julian broke first and ducked his head to type again. He turned the screen to face Ryan:

[i don’t want to remember]

And this was the dark inversion of what they’d done: they had blocked off his memory of anything from before, but his memory after was sharper than before. And when he did (at last) remember, he remembered everything.

He remembered the first days in what he had thought was a hospital--of course it wasn’t but maybe it was, in some ways. The lab. But it smelled like a hospital. And there had been doctors, or researchers dressed like doctors. They kept him buckled into a bed. He slept and woke as they (they? they) wanted, thanks to this needle or that pill.

He had woken up too soon once, in the middle of an examination or a test, with a man in a white coat shining a light in his eyes and Julian had pulled at the restraints on his wrists and legs, tried to scream, wanted to pull at the needles in his arms and the tubes down his throat--but no use. He choked and struggled. The doctor was untroubled and held him down at his forehead while he called for another dose to put Julian to sleep again.

There were thousands of needles. There was pain in all his joints, down in his very bones. He couldn’t move because of of a needle. He was on fire and screaming and there was another needle for that. He was up all night and all day for days on end, being sick into a basin and someone held his head up while he vomited. There were lights shining down on him and doctors leaning over him and he was awake when they cut him open this time and ran a wire through his veins. He was exhausted and sick and that evening his father came to visit him for the first time.

And his father sat next to him while he lay there, and his father said, “You will want to divide things into a ‘before’ and an ‘after.’ But the truth is that there was never a ‘before.’ This has always been your life.”

He had been made to lie on his stomach--why? Something had to heal on his back. His back was sore and stinging. They had injected something into the back of his neck and he felt it there with his fingers like a grain of rice, like a seed.

There was a dark room. What came after? He could feel it there, but it was like ice submerged in dark water: bitter cold; unseen, but present.

There was a white room, there was another needle (longer than the others), electrodes on his forehead and scalp. The wires led--where?

He was dazed or drugged and someone sat him down on a stool and ran a razor over his head so his hair fell around him on the floor in clots. The sound of the razor rattled in his ears. He was tired and wanted to sleep.

There were long corridors--some painted white, some framed with glass, some underground in tunnels, some all catwalks and scaffolding. He was lying down, listening to the sound of steel on steel as he was wheeled down these corridors. There was always someone waiting at the end of each corridor.

He remembered meat--but there was something overwhelmingly dark and grotesque in that memory that he couldn’t recall but which still made him recoil and shove the whole away even though it arose unbidden.

He looked at Ryan and held his gaze steady. This time he didn’t blink; this time he didn’t duck away.

When I have my voice back I’ll tell you what I remember about the morning in the desert, when I was awake before the rest of the team and all I could do was wait for them, to move on or out. It was a mission, I know that much. And that doesn’t matter now, even if it does later. We were camped on a mountainside. I was wrapped up in a piece of an old tarp to stay warm and I climbed up to a peak above the camp and I waited there.

At first it was dark, before sunrise, but so full of stars. In my whole life, I had never seen so many stars. My brain was mending itself again, but I was keeping that a secret and I could keep it a secret because my brain was mending and that’s how I knew it was mending. It’s like waking up and starting to realize how backwards everything you were dreaming about really was.

I watched the stars and I tried to remember something more about them, like why there were patterns in them or what some of them were called, but it was like it was hidden from me, like someone had closed up the book where I could have found the answers. So I just watched the stars like I had never seen them before.

I had seen them before, though--the stars--before everything happened and I forgot, of course, and so many times after. I even remember looking at them to guide myself on another mission when that’s all I was thinking: this is the tool, I will use it. They weren’t even stars to me, they were only useful. I remember seeing them then.

And then the sun came up and I watched the entire sunrise, from the first green-gold line at the horizon to the first rays of gold. The sky was so clear, so clear and so endless. The stars were still in the west and the sun was rising moment by moment because it knew its own time and place.

The wind came up and blew little swirls of dust around me and it got cold the way it gets cold just before the sun comes up. The nightshadows grew brighter and longer in the light. It seemed every stone, every blade of grass had its own shadow to cast. Even I had a shadow that spilled down the side of the mountain behind me.

I watched the whole sunrise until the last of the stars disappeared and the sun broke free from the horizon and the sky burned itself brighter so that the dark blue of the sunrise turned pale.

And I realized that this same sky and those same stars and that same sun were the only ones ever known on this world and everyone and everything that had ever lived and died here had lived and died under those stars and sun and sky, and the sun kept rising, now staining the sky a darker blue, until it seemed that everything would be swallowed up in that limitless blue.

#whump #dogs of war #julian #ryan #aftermath #memory loss #memory recovery #human experimentation #surgery #ocs

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codylabs · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 30: Warpath

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Wendy stood in the middle of the forest, looking at a particular tree trunk upon which she remembered spray painting: DANGER, KILLER ROBOTS BEYOND THIS POINT.

She pulled out the tape on her time machine. A week and a half backward ought to do it.

The world dematerialized around her in a flash of blue light. It reconstituted itself in a week and a half less than no time at all, and she found herself standing in the exact same place. Only small cues; the shift of clouds in the sky, the change in wind direction, and the lack of any warning painted on the tree, gave any indication that she’d warped at all.

But here she was.

Before.

Before that fateful Saturday when they’d taken the saucer. Before the Friday when Dipper had taken her to Crash Site Omega. Before the Thursday when Juan’s mom had attacked the Mystery Shack. Before the Wednesday when they’d discovered the Forest of Daggers. Before the Tuesday when they met the lion. Before the Monday when Dipper first came to her house. In fact, this was before the Sunday when the twins first arrived in Gravity Falls.

This.

This was the Friday when Wendy first found Juan. In fact, judging by the angle of the sun, this was the morning before she’d even done that.

This was before any of it.

She briefly consulted a map for the location of her target, and started walking into the trees.

She saw nothing on her journey. Nothing but the metal trees whose branches and jagged leaves casually scratched at her as she walked past. Nothing but the little robot pentapus-monkeys chattering high in the branches. Nothing but the nuts and sticks they spitefully threw at her as she walked past. Nothing but the uneven ground and strange sharp smells and the coldly shining mirror-flowers budding by a stream. Nothing but nature. Alien nature, alternative nature, dangerous and spiky nature, yet still beautiful and peaceful in its own way.

She moved quiet, and quick, and consulted the map frequently, and managed to dodge past the more treacherous obstacles they’d encountered on previous visits. Fortunately, she didn’t run into any large predators.

Finally she broke through the edge of a small circular clearing, and stood looking at a crooked, dome-shaped rise in the forest floor, a little bigger than your everyday fighter jet.

This was the place.

If I destroy Betty and Barney’s UFO and the power control coupling now, then we’ll never reactivate the reactor in the main wreck. Thus never destroying the Forest of Daggers, attracting the attention of the Mother Shifter, or having to deal with any of this awful crap…

It’s the only way to be safe.

She thumbed a button on the plasma beam, and its pilot flame flashed to light. The overheat timer began to tick, and the weapon began to emit a low whine.

She stepped onto the top of the UFO, aimed the beam downward at where she remembered the airlock being, and gripped the handles tightly.

Wham.

When her ears stopped ringing and the billowing smoke cleared a little, she saw that the hatch was still intact, even if the underbrush had been burned away a little. So she fired again. This time the glass crinkled and cracked slightly, and a gap opened just a couple millimeters around the perimeter. The air was beginning to ripple in the heat, and it singed the hair on her arms.

Great! It’s loose! Now I can probably get it open…

SNAP.

Wendy froze at the sound.

And turned around.

Not thirty feet away, there stood an enormous robot lion. Looked to be of the male variety, judging by the lack of teets along its flanks (well, they’re ‘recharging ports’ on robots, but same difference, right?) Its eyes were small and bright and red, and its claws were long and curved and razor sharp. Wendy couldn’t tell if it was one of the same ones they fought (would fight?) in a week and a half, but it was quite an impressive specimen anyway.

But strangely, unlike all the others they’d ever seen, it wasn’t attacking. Its mane of antennae were fanned out and scanning, as an Earthly creature would sniff, but it didn’t look mad or aggressive or territorial, it just looked curious.

Wendy spread her feet and took a ready stance, pointing the beam at its head.

Hey, waitaminute. She realized. The robot lions are the whole reason Dipper and I discovered this forest. They’re the only things here that are immediately dangerous to outsiders, and the only ones that have ever ventured beyond the ordinary grounds.

If I exterminate all you jerks now…

That would undo not ONLY any encounter with the shifter, but ALSO our entire adventure. We would have never even know of this place. Never even suspected. There would have been no danger, nobody would ever have been hurt, and Dipper would never even have had the slightest chance of dying.

And since I have the tape on ‘stable’ mode, that means that past-me won’t have any memories of how I changed things! I’ll be able to… Move on. Forget about murder, and not have to deal with the guilt of all the things I never did…

It’ll all be okay.

Wendy squeezed the trigger.

Wham.

The lion spasmed violently and tried to leap sideways or escape, but the front half of its brain had already been melted to slag, eliminating its ability to reason or think. Like a headless chicken it staggered and lurched, then keeled over and collapsing on the forest floor after only a few seconds, twitching and struggling, already dead, as oily blood poured from the incandescent wound.

Wendy saw movement in her peripheral vision. She spun left to see a second lion, this one female, emerge from her hiding spot in the trees. But this one didn’t attack either; instead, she fled. The motors in her joints and treads whirred with exertion as she set off through the trees to the West, away from Wendy and her dead mate.

Wendy fired another beam after her, but it went wide, and by that point she was out of range.

So the chase was on.

The plasma beam wasn’t the easiest thing to carry while running. Since the shoulder strap and top-handle made it hang like a weed-eater or a chainsaw at her hip, it was always rubbing around and bumping against her legs. Wendy held it up close to her chest to be more comfortable.

In spite of the focus this situation ought to demand, Wendy’s mind began to wander. Well… This is it. She mused to herself. After today… The entire adventure never will have happened.

Ahead of her, the lioness leapt up over a massive fallen log. As Wendy approached the same point, she vaulted off a lower log onto the higher one, then slid down the other side. A razor bush gouged into her leg near the bottom, but she shook it off and limped on, ignoring the pain.

The time Dipper and I went out to capture a robot by setting a decoy and hiding up a tree. Wendy recalled. We had no clue how gigantic these things were, and brought nothing but a tiny little werewolf net to catch it. We made it out alive by the skin of our teeth, and had a good laugh… But if I do this, we never would’ve gotten to do that.

The lioness ducked through a hollow beneath another log, and Wendy followed without missing a beat. A drilling worm rumbled in annoyance as she passed its underground lair.

That night in the hospital. When Dipper and I promised to solve this mystery, and prevent anyone else from being hurt… Then we fell asleep in the hospital lobby, both wearing full armor… Then in the morning he took me to Crash Site Omega, and we told each other all our secrets… If I do this, we never would’ve shared all that.

The lioness was a creature designed to catch prey using short, powerful sprints. It didn’t have the stamina for long distance running, and Wendy was steadily catching up.

That time Dipper and I were trapped underground, and swarms upon swarms of robot bugs were trying to eat us… Dipper panicked, but I calmed him down long enough for him to fire off the magnet gun and save us… Then he asked for a hug, so I hugged him. If I do this, he might never have conquered his fear. And I might never have hugged him.

The lioness stopped ahead of her, then suddenly ducked down and disappeared out of sight into the ground. When Wendy reached the same place, she saw the open mouth of a wide sort of tunnel, sloping down into the ground. She jumped down into the darkness without hesitation, thumbing on a headlamp on as she did.

That time the ghosts of Betty and Barney asked us to bring peace and finality to their own uncompleted life’s work… We promised we would avenge their deaths by bringing an end to the shapeshifting monster that killed so many… And we promised to make the most of their legacy. We allowed their restless souls to find their peace, and if I do this… We never would have even KNOWN…

The tunnel snaked on deeper into the Earth, branching off here and there, something like a fox’s burrow. No sign of the lion yet.

That flight aboard the flying saucer. It seemed like we were gonna die, but then Dipper DID die. And I fought my way through time and space and fate to save him, and I pushed through sickness and torture and fear and exhaustion until I punched into the heart of an omnipotent enemy, and I brought him back… And by the end I knew beyond a doubt that it would all be alright, and… And… And I knew no matter what came next that I just wanted to have him by my side, for better or for worse, until the end of time… And then… And then he asked me on a date…

Wendy’s steps faltered.

And…

She slowed down.

If I do this…

She stopped.

None of that would have happened.

Her finger eased off the trigger of the gun.

No…

It’s right…

She reached under her helmet and rubbed the tears from her eyes.

It was right. This is wrong.

This is wrong… I shouldn’t do this. I… I should just forget it. Just go back home and get ready for that date… Let the past stay in the past, return to the present, and make the most of the future… It’s time to leave the Forest of Daggers for the last time.

Clump, clump, clump… The sound of heavy, treaded footfalls.

Whirr… The sound of gears rumbling smoothly inside metallic joints.

Crinkle, clink… The sound of antennae brushing against the walls of the tunnel.

Shreeeee… The sound of saws spinning up to speed.

And Wendy found herself in the lion’s den, surrounded on all sides.

“Okay, well, I think we’ve made enough progress for today…” Ford stepped out of McGucket’s stuffy lab to find his great niece waiting in the Mansion’s foyer, arms folded over a banister. “Ah, there you are. Where’s Mason?” He asked. “I’ve got a few questions for him about the mechanical ecology…”

“Oh, he uh…” Mabel scratched her head. “He told me to tell you he’s off ghost hunting.”

“Hmm… Except I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any ghost-hunting supplies on him…” Ford put his hands on his hips. “So what’s he really doing?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t know…” Mabel shrugged. “Probably just being hopelessly in love and incredibly paranoid at the same time…”

“Ah yes, well, what else is new?” Ford scoffed.

“I tried to catch up with him, but he was pretty quick and… Oh, what the heck, he’ll be alright, won’t he?”

“Of course he will.”

“Yeah…” Mabel looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hey Great Uncle Ford?”

“What is it, my girl?”

“Have you ever talked to the Shapeshifter? I mean, since you came back from your 30 years out in ultra-space?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘hyperspace’.” Ford smiled. “Although technically, it’s called the ‘multiverse’. ‘Hyperspace’ is merely the multi-dimension-high-permeability looping medium used to traverse from reality to reality… Uh… Wait, I’m sorry, what was your original question?”

“The shapeshifter.”

“Oh yes. Right… Well, you kids locked the monster up safely last Summer, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then I’m not worried, I trust you did it properly. And the cryogenic containment systems will hold for many years yet. We built them to last, you know.”

“That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I mean…” Mabel frowned. “I mean…”

“What?”

“Biscuit Brown. Carrot Costume.” Mabel said.

The color went out of Ford’s face and his voice got quiet. “…Where did you hear that?” He hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “When?”

“…The future…” Mabel shrugged. “Uh… Some stuff happened, and then we used a time machine to keep them from happening, and then future-you told us to tell you that, so… What does that mean?”

“Those…” Ford’s eyes began to dart around with a strange intensity. “Are short, alliterative, easy-to-remember mnemonics, which serve as two of my five secret code phrases, for use in the eventuality that I ever had to send a warning to myself backward through time… The code phrases are ranked ‘A’ through ‘E’, for different levels of severity. ‘Carrot Costume’ is ‘C’ severity, meaning that a future-me believes somebody’s life will be in jeopardy. ‘Biscuit Brown’ is a ‘B’ severity, a warning that a future-me believes somebody’s soul will be in jeopardy… Obviously, the codes are just a sort of validation, with the assumption that whoever delivered them could provide more details…”

“I didn’t understand anything of what you just said.” Mabel informed him.

“Okay, uh… Whose life is in danger, Mabel? And whose soul?”

“Uh… Er… I guess Dipper’s life.” She answered. “And the Shapeshifter’s soul.”

Ford considered this for a moment, then nodded grimly. “Follow me. And explain on the way exactly what I need to do.”

The nearest lion lunged, saws and hooks glittering in the light.

There was no time to get out the time machine, so instead Wendy fired the death ray.

As the light flashed from the weapon, it briefly illuminated the entire den. It was a small, low-ceilinged cavern, with a few branching tunnels to the sides, and a smaller hollow toward the back. Within the hollow, a large female lay on its side, with cubs latched to its recharge ports; must be a ‘nursery’ of some kind. Wendy herself was standing more toward the center of the den; the part cluttered with a mess of metal scraps and discarded bone-like scaffolds, from all the creatures and prey that had been brought here before. This must be the feeding area. Somewhat disquieting.

The light of the beam faded just as quickly, and the world returned to darkness. The lion that had been charging Wendy slumped over dead, from the hole burned up through the roof of its mouth.

By that time the next one was attacking, and Wendy had to dive out of the way. She dropped her headlamp in the roll, and as she came up, she fired at the first thing she saw.

Another lion, this one another male, took the blast in the side. Its antenna flared in pain as the hole began to spark and bleed, but it didn’t seem to be a fatal injury. Must have missed its crucial components.

Wendy spun, aimed, and squeezed again, expecting another ‘WHAM’.

But instead, all she got was a ‘click’. And a little red blinking light on top of the weapon. And a little backlit screen flashing ‘OVERHEAT WARNING!’.

Crap.

Crap!

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!

Stupid piece of JUNK!

Wendy reached into her pocket for the time machine; at this point, it was her only escape route. But before she could pull the tape, a claw swipe from another lion took her directly in the chest. The worst of it was stopped by her armor, but it knocked the wind out of her and she found herself on her back, with the burning hot weapon on top of her. As she hurriedly pushed it off, she realized she’d dropped the time machine somewhere in the darkness.

Crap!

But before the day could end, with either a victory or an unceremonious shredding, the fight took a different turn entirely.

A shape leapt out of the darkness.

Not a robotic shape though, not a scary shape, not a big, strong, mighty shape. This was a small and scrawny shape, which landed on the back of the nearest lion. The creature began to rear up at the invasion to its personal space, but then a flash of light erupted above it. The air fizzled with the sound of arcing electricity, and the lion collapsed, eyes darkened.

That was a magnet gun pulse. Wendy blinked. I didn’t bring a magnet gun.

The small shape leapt again. There was another pulse, and another lion collapsed. The others took a step back.

And Wendy found herself looking up at the short silhouette standing over her. And she saw a small hand, a human hand, reach down toward her to help her up. Judging by a few scratches on the hand and rough tears in the shirt, he’d come all the way here with only partial armor. And judging by how heavily he was breathing, he’d ran most of the way.

Their eyes met, and she just stared for a few seconds, feeling confused and relieved and guilty and sweaty all at the same time.

“Hi Wendy.”

“…Hey… Hey dude.”

She took his hand.

He pulled her to her feet, pressed a second magnet gun into her grasp, and turned around. She tossed aside the plasma beam as she turned around too. They found themselves back to back, weapons raised and ready, as the creatures circled in closer. Aiming was almost unnecessary at this range, but she took a deep breath to steady her hands anyway. Behind her, she heard Dipper stutter.

“S-so what’s the plan here? Kill them all?”

“No… No, I mean, it was, but… I was wrong… Dipper, I’m sorry.”

“What’s the plan?” He repeated more urgently.

“…Just to get out alive.”

“Good plan.”

They fired, they aimed, they fired, they aimed again. The lights flashed, the electricity crackled, and two by two the creatures collapsed.

In another reality that never happened, this same boy had immobilized one of these creatures with nothing but an axe and some luck. In that same reality, this same girl had taken on a time-traveling shapeshifter with the same weapons, and emerged with similar results.

Now that both of them were working together, adequately armed and prepared, neutralizing an entire clan of murderous machines was… Trivially easy.

In less than a minute, they found themselves standing in the middle of a crowd of almost a dozen dead or unconscious beasts. The magnet gun was warm in Wendy’s hands, and its charge meter was down below halfway. Dipper passed her a spare pack of batteries.

Both their eyes landed on the last robot that remained standing; the medium-large female that had been suckling the young. This one had seen the fate of its brethren, and was at least smart enough to fear. Instead of attacking, it picked one of the juveniles off the floor with its hooks, and turned to escape up the nearest tunnel.

Wendy leveled her gun and almost shot her backside, but then thought better of the action, and worse of herself for considering it.

The noise of its scampering footfalls faded into the distance, and the burrow was once again silent.

Wendy could hear her heart beating. Heck, she thought she could hear his heart beating. She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair, racking her brain to try to figure out how to begin to explain all this. He needs to know. I need to tell him. But how do I do that? How do I even start…?

“…T-thanks.” She finally managed instead. “The… That stupid gun overheated.”

“Yeah…” He gasped for breath. “It’s… Uh… Uh, it’s hardcoded with a 3-minute cooldown period between volleys…” He fished a fat little pamphlet out of his vest, and tossed it to her. “You left the instruction manual back at McGucket’s and I kinda read it on the way. Uh… Yeah.”

“3 minutes, huh?”

“Sucks, right?”

“Yeah… I guess the rest of these guys will probably reboot before it’s done.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Do you want to set up an ambush at the top of the tunnel?”

“No… No, it’s fine, it’s all fine… Let’s just go…”

“Well… You were right in the middle of blowing everything up! I mean… We still could, i-i-it would just be a little strategy…”

“No…” She picked the death ray off the ground, slung it around her shoulder, then located the time machine and stuffed it in her pocket. “No, I… I was wrong.” She said. “Let’s just… Just get the heck out of here…”

He nodded, and made to leave. She started to follow him, but came up short when he suddenly stopped, and turned back around to face her. She met his eye. “…Aren’t you curious if I’m a shapeshifter?” His voice had an edge to it.

She blinked.

Well, he had the instruction manual, and had a few red scratches, and was acting just like he always does… And heck, he’d just saved her life, when anyone else, even any human, doubtlessly would have hesitated. Of course he was the real Dipper… Wasn’t he?

But the thought had occurred to her. I mean, come on! It doesn’t make any sense for Dipper to be here and now! How did he get here? How did he know I’d be here? How is he last week right now? What if he saved my life just to earn my trust? What if… What if, what if… She racked her brain, knowing that any lapse in paranoia, any smallest mistake, any trust at all, could be fatally dangerous. She felt her hand subconsciously moving toward her axe.

But…

But he never tried to prove himself. He never said his name, or gave proof, or made a big show of being Dipper, or grilled me for info… He just reminded me to be more careful. Which means he’s just as smart and paranoid as he should be… But he’s innocent. “Uh… If you’re really you…” Even as she spoke, she wished she hadn’t, for she knew he was really him. “Then you remember how to tell me…”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Uh… My real name is Mason Ferdinand Pines…” He made the sign of zipping and locking his lips.

“I know.” She sighed.

“I… Uh… I got a week and a half ago by promising to leave a time machine in a rotten stump the next time I got one…” He pulled a tape measure out of his pocket for her to inspect. It was the exact same one as hers. “And when I looked in the stump, this one was in there… So the way I reason it out, I guess I’ll convince you to leave yours there, huh…?”

“Good time-thinking…”

“Okay, well, I mean, if you don’t believe I’m human, there’s lots of sharp things around here. I can… Bleed red or…”

“No.” Wendy waved a hand in apology. “No. No, no man, it’s fine… I’m sorry. You’re you, I’m just… I… Sorry. I guess it’s all gone to my head-”

“No.” He decided out loud. “No, I’m gonna bleed!” He walked over to the wall of the tunnel, where a small tuft of razor-grass was growing. “Because I need you to know it’s really me!”

“Wait, dude, no it’s fine-!”

He closed his left fist around the grass, and gritted his teeth before pulling.

“Dude, please!” She reached out to stop him.

Blood flowed from a gash in his palm. Red blood, whose stark color almost seemed to glow under the glare of his flashlight.

He spun back toward her, and pointed a bloody finger to his chest. “I’M the real Dipper!” His voice cracked despite its sternness, though she couldn’t tell if it was from pain or anger or being on the verge of tears. “I AM!” He repeated, with a panicked squeal. “I don’t know why you would think I’m a shapeshifter, but if you needed your own dad to bleed before you’d believe him, then I’m not taking the chance! You’ve got to KNOW for good and real that I’m ME! And I am! SEE! LOOK! I AM!” He held up his red palm. Red blood. Human blood. Dipper’s blood.

Wendy had seen him this angry only rarely. It was never a pretty sight, but it was always directed at someone else. Stan or Robbie most often, Mabel or Soos once or twice, and of course at the bad guys, abominations like Bill which deserved every ounce.

But he’d never been angry at her; not like this. And it hurt. She closed her eyes to keep back tears.

“I’m your friend!” He continued, borderline hysterical. “I look out for you! I care about you! I followed you across town in the back of your dad’s truck, across the forest on foot, HECK, I even followed you backward in time and right into the lions’ den, all because I was WORRIED about you! I walked miles for you! I bled for you! I fought for you! I’ll do anything for you! I’ll ALWAYS be there for you…! Why don’t you trust me…?”

“I…” Wendy willed herself to speak. “I do trust you…! I… I respect you more than anyone, I-”

“Well then why stand me up? When I asked for a date, you said ‘yes’! Why didn’t you say ‘no’ if you meant ‘no’?”

“Wait! No! That was never-”

“Look, I get it! I mean that, I get it! I’m too young for you, and too short, and I always kind of knew it, so it’s no big deal… I… No… No it IS A BIG DEAL! It HURTS, Wendy! I fell head over heels for you AGAIN and I actually DID honestly believe you liked me, and then you led me on, and now…! But! But it hurts even more that you don’t trust me! Why not tell me you had a time machine this whole entire time? Why didn’t you bring me along when you decided to retro-proactively exterminate an entire race? What does Mable know that I don’t? Why does she know? Why is she acting weird? Why will nobody tell me what happened?!?”

“I didn’t think!” She told him. Her sight was getting blurry. “…I’m sorry! Dipper, I’m sorry! But would you just let me TALK?!?”

Just as fast as it appeared, his temper burned itself out. He fell silent, and gave a small nod.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated. “What happened…” She willed herself to speak. “What happened is you died.”

Dipper choked back tears, and shook his head. His eyes fell. “So it’s true.”

Wendy found herself crying too. In her peripheral vision, one of the unconscious lions began to twitch. “L-let’s go.” She repeated, and shrugged toward the tunnel.

He nodded timidly, and turned to lead the way.

This was the first time he’d seen Wendy… Weak. He’d seen her cry once when she was really mad, and he’d seen her lose fights and tempers from time to time, but this was different. This was her breaking down on the inside, melting and collapsing. This was her filled with guilt and confusion and pain to the point where he, wimpy little Dipper, could break her, with nothing but the force of his words. But Wendy’s never weak… What happened? Did I do that? How did I do that? Why did I do that? I didn’t mean to…

They made it back up into the glaring sun within a minute, then spent another minute walking in a random direction, just to find a safe place to rest. Before long, they happened upon a hollow metal log lying in a ditch where a great tree must once have stood. As they ducked inside, they were reminded of the very first time they’d visited the Forest of Daggers; they’d stopped for lunch inside a log much like this one.

This log was a little smaller than that one though. Between the rusty walls, a mossy tangle, and Wendy’s butt, there was barely room for his own butt. Kinda cozy, kinda prickly, and all the bad kinds of awkward.

Wendy cast one last look across the landscape beyond the log. When she was sure they hadn’t been followed, she fished out a water bottle, and told him to hold out his hand. He did, and she washed his wound, then bound it as tightly and well as she could with a bandage-sized strip she tore from her shirt. It would hold until they got back to civilization.

But they didn’t feel like walking. They barely even felt like talking. So they just leaned back against the log’s curved wall, and sat there in dull and stunned silence, waiting for things to be okay again.

Forgiveness would be great. Healing would be great. Happiness and understanding and trust would all be great, If only they could find the words to say.

Without those words, the silence stretched on, and they were left listening to the distant sounds of nature: the metallic hammering of robot woodpeckers, the buzzing of strange robot birds, and the quiet clicking and scuffling of big black robot bugs that creeped and crawled through the wood around them.

All was peaceful.

Finally Wendy couldn’t stand it anymore, and decided she had to say something.

“My middle name is Blerble!” She cried. “And I’m sorry!”

“I know that, and I’m sorry too!” Dipper blurted. “I didn’t mean any of that! I know you’re still my best friend and stuff!”

“I’m sorry!” Wendy said. “I am SO, SO, SO sorry! I didn’t think, and I was scared, and I didn’t know how to tell you, and I committed murder after she raped my brain and it was terrible, and do you want to hear the story?”

Dipper swallowed, and wiped away his tears, and nodded. “Y-y-yes. Yes please.”

The words came easier from there.

“Mabel, you stay here.” Ford adjusted a few weapons in his belt as he prepared to enter the airlock.

“Why?”

He passed her a ray gun. “To make sure it’s me that comes back out. Keep an eye on the security cameras and the cryogenics controls, notify me of any and all malfunctions… That sort of thing. Keep your walkie-talkie on.”

“Okay.”

“Stanley, you say with her.” Ford looked at his brother.

“What, hey…?” Stanley twirled a baseball bat. It had a multitude of nails pounded through it, so that it looked more like a mace than any type of bat. “Why’d ya bring me along if you weren’t gonna bring me all the way?”

“Just as insurance…” Ford looked at the airlock, and nervously drummed his fingers against his legs. “This is… This is an old mistake, but it’s my mistake… And… And I think it’d be better if I went in alone.”

“Aww, c’mon poindexter! I can help! Everyone needs a wingman, right?”

“…Stanley… Suppose…” Ford chewed his lips, searching for an easier metaphor. “Okay, imagine for a moment that you had a chance to talk to Carla McCorckle again… A chance to make things right with her, maybe apologize… Would you want me there, or would you want your privacy?”

“Wait, you have an ex-girlfriend frozen down here?” Stanley listened to the wrong half of the metaphor. “Bros don’t let bros do that, bro. This just became an intervention.”

“What? No! …But… But I hear the monster is quite a lot worse than I ever would have imagined… And moreover I hear it might be a real person, a…” He glanced at Mabel. “A living… Feeling soul… And I reason… I reason that it might be my fault that… So I’d like a chance to finally, honestly talk…”

“That sure sounds a loooot like an ex-girlfriend.”

“STOP, Stanley…!” Ford snapped. “It’s not a ‘she’… Or… Or an ‘it’… He’s a ‘he’… And… And everything that happened to him was my fault… Just… Just wait out here until this is done, alright?”

“…Okay.”

“-and then we sort of all said goodbye, Ford gave us some time-code-phrases, and Mabel and I time-jumped back… Anyway, yeah. You know the rest.” Wendy shrugged. “…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just…” She barely even knew what the excuse was herself. “I honestly thought that if I could undo everything real fast, get in and out, sweep everything under the rug… I guess I just thought it would be best. We’d be able to start over at the beginning of a new week with no memory. You’d be alive, we’d both be happy, and safe, and… And you wouldn’t have a date with a murderer.”

Dipper twitched nervously, and mulled over that for a few seconds. “Stop saying ‘murder’.” He finally said. “It’s not murder.”

“But it is though…”

“But it isn’t! She tried to kill you first! And when somebody tries to kill you, you just kill ‘em right back! …Look, nobody blames you for what you did. I know it really sucked and everything, but as far as anybody else can see, you’re not a murderer, you’re a hero!”

“Then you’re all wrong!” Wendy insisted. “I didn’t have to kill her! And even if I did have to, I didn’t have to mash her to death over and over and then leave her to bleed out, I coulda… I… I just…” Wendy looked down at her own two hands, and remembering them as they had been: bruised and broken in the cold wet darkness, covered in blood. “You don’t know how it was!”

“W-w-w-well, I know you did something hard!” Dipper insisted. “I know you did something extremely hard, to someone or something that deserved it more than anyone, and for all the right reasons! And it’s not because you’re evil or violent; soldiers and cops and cowboys have been killing and getting killed since the dawn of time, and will until the end of time, because sometimes that’s what it means to take a stand! You did it because you’re tough, and when it needed to be done, you did it, and… You…” His voice got quiet. “…You’re a warrior, Wendy. And the toughest, coolest, most… Most strong person I’ve ever even heard of… And if I were in your place, if… If you’d died, I only wish that I would have the guts to do the same.”

She shook her head. “Don’t wish that.”

“Wendy, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wendy, I don’t… Look, I think the only part that really matters is that you saved my life. And that’s, just… I don’t know what to say. Thanks.”

“Yeah… Yeah, hey, no biggie, right?” She shrugged. “I mean… I love you a lot. I mean…” Her voice seemed to suddenly skip a beat. “I-I-I mean we all love. You. W-w-we all respect you, and you mean a lot to all of us, and we really… Appreciate… Stuff. In you. And stuff. And I dunno, y’know, I bet Soos woulda done the same thing if he had the chance; Pterodactyl bros and all that… Same as Stan or Ford or Mabel or anybody… We all really… What are friends for, huh? And besides. You died defending me. So it’s literally the least I could do.”

“Thanks.”

“No biggie.”

“Seriously, thanks… It means more than I can say.”

“It’s no biggie, just like I been saying. Stop thanking me.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Thanks anyway.”

“Stoooooop.”

He was a knight.

A valiant, brave knight, clad in shining armor, with a thick oaken shield grasped in his left hand, and a long, pointed lance propped in his right, and a broadsword in its scabbard at his hip. The horse between his legs snorted and panted with exertion, as it galloped up the trail toward the mountain. There was a cave up there, the villagers had said; a cave where lurked a great, monstrous dragon; an evil worm clad in scales as tough as armor, and spewing a great, roaring fire from its lungs.

The knight had accepted their quest to slay it; to save the people and their livestock from its continued mongering, so that their farms could prosper, and families could sleep in peace. But more than that, his quest was personal: you see, during the beast’s last raid of the castle, it had ensnared the princess, (the knight’s betrothed,) and taken her with the rest of its spoils. He had to save her.

(Just to be clear, these were the olden days before they invented clichés, so the knight remained blissfully ignorant of how corny this all sounded.)

Not that it mattered really. No sooner had his horse rounded the final bend, but the Dragon swooped down from the cliffs directly above. Its claws were silent on the rocks, its wings quietly whipped through the air, and the first noise it made was the roaring of its flames. Thus, the brave knight had less than a second and a half of warning before his incineration, not even enough time to raise his shield.

The fair maiden greeted the dragon at the entrance to his lair. “You can’t win, you know.” She claimed once more. “My true love is a warrior of surpassing skill. He will come for me soon, and he will defeat you, and he will save me.”

“No…” The dragon muttered, as he opened his mouth and dropped the whole pile at the princess’s feet: a charred mound of horse flesh, tarnished iron, and the black and red shape of a man. “No, I’m afraid he already came… And he’s already gone…”

The princess gasped when she saw the shape, and put her hand over her mouth.

And then the dragon wondered why he’d done that. The knight had been a good man. His quest had been noble, honest, pure, done in love and not in hate… I’m the villain. The dragon realized. He was good, and I am evil. Sure the brave knight didn’t kill me, but one day somebody will… And then I’ll stand before God, without an excuse or a plea…

When did I become who I am?

Why did I do the things I did?

Who am I?

And the dragon felt some kind of pain, from nowhere at all but also everywhere. It made him want to curl up on himself and hide his face, but instead he just pleaded “Forgive me!”

“You are who you choose to be.” The princess said.

And now the dragon felt something even stranger: there was a small drop of water, spilling from the corner of his eye. He felt it roll down his scales. He watched it drop from his chin to the floor; a tiny glittering orb hovering in the air for a moment before splattering on the floor, and it made the stones wet.

It had been the first teardrop he had ever shed.

And then, the Shapeshifter woke up.

It was only a dream.

A loud buzzing rang through the bunker, and he jumped, standing quickly to his feet. His eyes swung toward the sanitation airlock, the source of the buzzing. Gritty old florescent lights flickered on overhead, and a status light flashed. Somebody was entering the containment area.

The Shifter considered hiding in one of his tunnels, but thought better of it. Then he considered various large, capable forms he could take to combat whatever intruder this was, but for some reason he thought better of that too.

Before he could decide on a plan, the airlock’s inner door creak open. And standing in the gap was Stanford Pines.

The shifter stared at him.

He stared back.

“Shifty.” The old scientist said.

The shapeshifter hadn’t heard that nickname in a long time. For so long he’d just been ‘The Shapeshifter’ or ‘Experiment 210’, ‘The monster’, ‘the creature’, or any combination of those… But ‘Shifty’ on the other hand… ‘Shifty’ was a relic of his childhood… A childhood of confinement and impotency and stunted curiosity and unfulfilled longing for freedom. A childhood he’d hated. A childhood whose scar hurt worse than an axe in the chest.

Stanford Pines was an evil, despicable creature, and Shifty had to kill him.

“You…” He took a step toward his enemy. “You left me down here to rot…”

“Forgive me.” Ford pleaded.

For some reason, the shifter stopped.

And that was a strange moment indeed.

Hbx knpn gfl rup, yse xwsh mggne alzsfw clrh sur vvto. Szw osuij ehw jbavcoygk wjvi kncomyo hbv clldk. Zvy yklrv los yemtnwk ycui zz laxl, hbvt dtsds. Gbv npajv avy brlxgfz pyxoy tg ohwf. Jnp hwsyr nyk Qijka Aukk dcjwhacem zvwj avy zteejuva zfx pvwjfchv zz gwl ac wigdh kwhhm. Jnp sso avy jiteflpgnj szvw xvf mrlptq ebqb kuz sdgdzs.

Rto szw rbyn oe wsk mwhrrwy zswdyeoyg. Sl somk. Ge lgfn, ziem wakl, avy vbpn kg tohp epajk wfignpsawk kuj izmafn hi ggds. Kzl zchatfawk vyi hznwk hbx taclwv osljkwf afac nyk eiyzasmk hlld kos wfawd, tjhqcem sejklzz ku ehw llgn kame osszm noeh xdllcsrp, cmkowieoyg lwurlzrd.

Il zhdjvtpd.

Tq avy koxe kzl tcegwlq hbzfvj sejklzz kurelzlf uej ceyspbyu iznkupcojtpsk, aa kuj gwl gnlf.

Xvgo bgvpsm coetwjlr nyk wat. Los mtopnlazhm ygo add isye zsrgou hi ftp efv vt nyk coge dvyik ehwq sos noeh tjvyye hzdawz, ghrvaev flqej, icogclr nvteaudlg, uej dtads vyrxes. Sfk spvxj safnzy fzsej llgn jamjwua wh knp tmtlg uiufnv zlf qvxp dwsk hif; ge lwszh, ymkcylzpba knlt zsk piekd tg tysub. Yse zwygycl hak xpby knzuyz; cslp sfcz kooevt, lnv xlsfztr saur, pok yse’v kbfpzbpd. Kzl tycz sej wnu, uej tt osz whkgnt.

Lzlm brj dujnpjyu.

Yse xgyayu npr wfawlv hzdq auhi r ytnydl aojiwy, khywhx-rtkw dpav, sxlcwv ph uxgtnkl vby ngwl gx avy kame, kmtaieko add avy guhej sur mkxpnylo gbv nld, sfk hbvt caeelr bvxdedx mifc-lzruw pbnf zse ghwcmzzp wsds. O nztj cjsjy ugvpajwk. Gbv zzoc s tcgvte tg tysukn, ehwf kwx zz lgsau. Hbv icauc dwxvtpd. Kzl rcu oe ofw mwhrr eiew, avy xrlsk koonkkcev, sur nyky szw dom wxpe.

Jwhzfp, zcudq mfyv.

Uye gx avy jiteflpgnj oy tzw ycid clsf’l xickk oesv. Os ffuvev mw on ykc, cgmnvcem mlggk ohu hwifcpba zt sedhssmj jplajpig. “Y-n-sedh… Osfg sp…” Hw ehbuxko tg yhgj, nnpn zw zoq ykc sadocovzee klhbxztr onwy vcd.

Zse lats brj noew ac zlrqidd osl fgeh.

Sk zvy jzlbtwk vcd, yse klhfnvj sej uvihk. Uye.

Kzl plfqp iflv hbv uehwj aivvy, lnv sas mfsp ox los iknpr lwzh mlhueulz, ihkow szw dom wkplafn fyjzzrwv. Zvy ukdtjgfsx r lpw vjvbyj zsal zhr vvky smetchvj eo uguhuzt sej. Guqy knp wsq dom trpaj snoce, yse nwuhoiko oml ac yovwojw hbx vynahw hbx tuyqmwy.

Hbv ysih ohg u wkgej vysud uq ilk mcldkc swdm, o xvyaejsas, wygztau, ocjvrpsk wjvi fl qojyvhnvt rlgjf. Kucrd wwjl pyez lnv uycibko afv dolgko, slspbyu oy pdsjsm se mlska auiqd oj xsicu rpack. Avy roc slsuy iw hwogv, iileko pdszhcty, lnv ooonvbpr uzlactgw tzw ysjroc nsfvpiky hejw zswikeify pb ukzpmhl ac jrznh zgssm. Knp fdgvf qry nonwysx zt mrgclb acgds, lzpqe ry najhlh ce vwauwz, ohu oe cjauyfvj fnvwytifz. Plwuafctgw laflg mgkhev kwolby. Ehw ehzzltntaguwhx rtfw kbdjfxe czsvhctgwlq kowzkko tzw oigzjttq sur jikdsmjl. Qyizlif vvclj cprw olravj dhml, jslkgtn zsszqred cgdsojjko cgewzykkwy. Vwhr vfjtek olfy vbprqooslv. Jcofwz kuejprwv avy nxpccsns mcuhlq sur xlsmlq, dpyy kgykk jvzfztr tzjviay zse jmipfv uq a xsszye ittq, losci zcesvz gniargdauu zfx aujuoomv uq tzw ifctqd afv zquwlzlv.

Sur uj lzr zwy, gbv mlzwv bdie cttz yssy rto vayvf uej eramtdb, wuc szw zhifj ls lzl jctzzr. Lzl qbrsaigf. Avy jacvanvf.

Nykce owys u wkh olzlf mlxgingyg, nyufgz. Kvay fl ehwe dslv zcahhlr ce zseaj ycidy, doew dslv xzaeauu nyk saddz, gidk hejw aci ztuujwk hi duge. Kzl ryrre walo hbvs znw tf chv gd szw mcoej ehwe.

Aki. Kncew. Xvil. Jrzw ygpba, sae slwhrs.

Juxe gx avy fzsej kbfpzbzrk zhr zfayd wsjv iknpr, sfk xiztpd afac mdgwl yjvijj, yz tzsa hbve nomdk vumk doew jcgggyy sk avyp ylt kuhfyu oy tzw kolb. Csefwcsl jnp fgmur mlis a yjvij, jnp wgmsr ugvpaj sz chv uq tzwt, ohu oyfadafukk ehwe, ssuit qrge avyd zse dgjonzuys gx mciu, cltwj, hbx fzsej kbfpzbzrk, sur nyky kads hbvs lld, gus vp uye. Al dom xxpal xbb mvktny los yjillslpch fl ehway tyrx lnv hhfueuta sk avyp ywoodf zijz l gmwzgcem raew vt “qyu’d-tzw-twgzi”.

Ewwfam-nnu. Ewwfam-nyxpe. Lolbnp-lzuj… Kos qry siyzsm ywltcawuh.

Uwzpr s xlk xred ox lowm yaytafn, gbv hpgsf ac arzsej xvcx, ngeej, lvcfj gyd wibwjdkyt, sfk auuk l nwka tii nprkwst ce zse dgdsl ckgedk vt nyk dhah. Vbwv yse zsk hbrz, dhw ovifu uncskpchrrwy vjhu wyutcw kbfpzbzrk loslv. Oq afqicxp ypeewk hi gudswkz ohp yaeuahz mbowlk gy yhfcwevyl, gbv czudv jfotoqy lzla ie npr ossz, nfxeujw hbx yact lzla oeztl kzl’r yozcaullr ck. Gyd al hzqred wgjrsx. Flqiuwyg, mtopnlazhm, vtrifwlfm, vbpn zswzyjy aakklbavxd, esuo kuj g hesdav iw oyfgjtonzuy if zpg ii npr gou kup, gyd kzl zyrxyev ehbs nuydwjmif kntnyk.

Mwhrrwy, af h gniuve gx siwb, yse xgbbx knp hwsk gytacilq vtzzipr, sfk hiizfrwv owg wuc tzw kfiek noflycf tuoek. Guqy jnp hsv avyd, yse jwwfixxlmwv avy uxznwk pbnf stnvdlgm jrlvwk, hbx ztdtjmjhyu zsee lv ryjzcoq wcslpuye tma vyi. Gyygfl hbrz qedl msui, gyytgkm qzzs afq huaikdsanl qbvstcsd tolbkcs sl hzf, knpy owys nf kwieauonv. Hft kg schx gd szw zhupko csdt vyiyplx, loss nuflv anbiik sej fv aukzpr ozhh zfxx szw acib. Yse hjlgmvj ehw tbhnft lnv yhjy knp ojvlf, uej ehwq kwx.

Ftp hmfkfyu gyd kwcshke-yifw. Vby yaydjwk ohu ktgzlf. Gbv cltuzlr nyk naewyo zvkos xjva bvx yeo ksopvy, lnv fljyi rzsl uvihk.

Ywoodf ohu yeesvpzs, vtpmawz ohu jlnywyg xzylphwhfyu.

Bprq kvch euh, enwymvfjj edkl kilro bw vlox. Rrw tzw zqcvteiklz, ofc zse ujlk, ucr ehw hhgmvtrejk, ljyie wakl pbnvrwiywuh fzlpfgjt wh knts mfpjyiyp wzg ljyi izudv oopv zsrwsashvj sej gy vyi isidv, hzf fl ehwe nchv, cttzgbh u dkxojq vf u grpa.

Af ochfx zf lzl cwtgdigf, zvy rrwoowk vyi krg lg nfin graaf.

Hbx ftp dsq, ksyg oy hwj zswcaoev dhwl, jnp fafhzfp rliv aa, ohu nplv aa wh knp psdt cz ykc hsfk: o mdgwl, kcf-pflk dpzwys nyge cgfaoceko add zvy ygo lwxa hi cuge af avcj ayinwygy. Rrw tzsa fydgtnwv vt bzs, lld kos’x wufgzl zc brxo tg khjy. Jnp hav ph uej nonwysx zz tn s ohfg grlcw.

Fvk wftdivwywhx npr yjlonvye tjahzm sksifv osl, jnp bwyhb nf zsifc hvyrj, eo yjhbxvx alsfz pypuyd lzpg gzyprstss qiknk. Ax zvy vbpr osz hi ikeujf ocgv uc mgnl pypuyd lzpg jcgyel, kos qfawd fwlr nf kttzwy qieyermua o hvc dhah vf lvvlij lowm ftp, if oocfv uc if hhfn. Knprwxvfy, jnp wgmsr hvko auulgm ku ehw lyowkuc bwst-zcbk rrsnphs vtrifwz, tii zse zwhjs coqtafn ohu rlrywy whuadtjq. Avuk vcekwuhyu g argtssg, sknamkl hbv uylq ohm nf jtrwuazs fbprjaks nyk daxwam ffivs ogbzx sk eo tjhjy knp bgaswhx npal sur lrjtalavb iw zse wfnwhv xzoe dvba vtzuyz ac grqp il lv hbv iznljvzm. Euh szw zhifj mexgys nyk desdlr vcgdt vgvfm (ngcm lg avy kufcz) sur qftoejwk vin yse eanvn uu ehsl. Ph qfawd jwxicik lregy cz juxe lqws, ii yzmw flk zfxx walo bi tkwlk lv rudgre, gj wslygas s cpbx fl ceegas wftergd.

Iin knpn, sl h ayjylgw xycg knp djgusm, jnp tmjusx wxzm lzl rifx lnv kaolkko fgj avy jntp’k dvkyi rpvwdz.

-7 zcwkqojez rykkntwv pb mvieoj 98, thflzildwv pb lfux 98-18. Ng wuhlp vltzk ksnvieev. Los gvydayw oox ikld.

Kwcsh coqexgyam. Knp lska ulfaa. Tzw somk hlslavb iw rtfw gu hbzy gekklz. Nyk wakl vt bvx pnwepsm. Rto, ix zlf jikoiulpchj cprw uvflvie, tzw Jojkgtn osz ogftr tzwt.

Gbv zzlv los xiuyek lv gnrto dgou, tii yse’v tlsh cuzkafn tiiclrv lv hbzy, lnv zhr ce stnv lv vuejwe lzlgy ftps zwygycl. Hedd… Tcmk uq tzwt, on cklsl. Xvf nyk Nahlhwh yoxswdm, gbv nld s evfy guptau lbx zt xifv. Zwhtk tt osz vcj vcivw avuk nld vgvayu zse eazgcft, lnv zpg uixzgsfjs qyonh zsk godsznwv hzf fl qalw’z klrzs, afv owm wgfll loon vbprqgus brj duxxlfyu yz, szw hflrtrev s zivkrp, cmfuwhx zcah xvf bzs. Dhw ovifu rfrw zpa ilz zf zaz gbvreej, sur fvgge udbsm ku wesv owg rrw tzw dos sgnk, janvn ku sej gywaztll hjpgie zfbw. Loslv np wgmsr lvgo a ewzguxk, cesdpny yod fsmsh, niorgwj h pifhj tjsw, ohu jte tq avy ygydk gm vcj uhn vjvbyj. Zsuk ovifu nts eazdfripd lzpfmk lzr svcshkace sfk vyiutck ovifu hp hak kcqellld gus frye tael.

Gbv gcrsfnsx knp tjsw.

Ohu oe wsk zc.

Nnu sufvysx rto tzjls.

Nyky szw zzcgvpd hszh nyk majjpquuk, lnv wtslxko if los xrxvefwk fifs eo twocfu zse dszh mzd dujnpjiiy. Ehsl dom zz; zndq zwr. Joi susysx, jzlrnauu, bvralwkz qlvgeujwz, ofc gwofw, sciboyg mhvb bvx hilz pagvtde xwhf, uj oq tzwf kyik dewauu nyk oenas vcdyplx. Lv gozz ehw uswgrieiu evayez, dhw kowzkko iflv hbv lzre gm o aiklt twhgn, r iceslbfy noeh udhkm, rto wafng, uej eejjppfv zpelz, mzudoyg wqlg, uej l szsyd, eeoqe-dars nrow. Sgelhbztr oml vt xrxvekl ssavto. Tzw somk ytx kuysudko afv jcqvxpd twmclv npr.

Oaav u yuzkwv jzun, yse dszvyu uft sl avy wocsl. Ldc bltorwv hbx wufr.

Oaav nyk dpwsy ch ykc tsas, gbv oxpsdlr nyk deugur. Nnu sufvysx rto fanl.

Gbv htt gxm hbv npav gm hbv zsijv. Aki yaydjwk ohu ytx.

Lzl tilxeh ljpsx ku danw owgjkwf, ljpsx ku qiyza, hlzko tg sahutq sej ophb r hcocwu qbltv ox hpdy. Kcz hmfkfyu gyd kwcsh.

Knp faxav vvmrev xvf gvxny. “A’e ZCLIE!” Se hdloxvj. “J-y-qgb’fy knp szswsmyoqtwj! P fydkxbwj fco! Z-O dpgcl cok lzr qgb! W nfro tzw Jojkgtn lg ssn puf gg! A mwfvj noehsocezd atgbh nyk ehafng nykj wwjl riztr tg qvi! C kuwd lzla nf rpanw fco rrznw! A’t bik ezuj wusgp! V-a-pdwhgy! Grpakw, P’a hfz jomj lbyde… Alwszs xft’e…” Tog oihuxpd sfk gymky.

Afv ucq knp lska. Hbv bprq dhgn. Jnp shjlox ykc wafng, uej pxlwuryu npr udhkm, rto pjwwolztr tg xpbcjn sej epgmzuy.

Bml monv nld gfl zujz dujhywmv oy slgys zfx sej; kos lvizgfagsx knp lska chv.

“███████.” Zse gjhqfv yliv.

Sa hbv yzufv vt bvx yaew, zvy ggfswv. Ph qryy’t ewyqs, zz hakf’a vyjoealavb, ck cls katdfp ifragzwnp; vprzswg nyk nhsjsonrt sav uvay lv hilz vby cgdt kwyaie uq hwscshce hikvva? Iek wakl hhnvsat lg jvuemp hwj dosj? Yse oguryiko wzsa qilro pgkzwvce me kspr, bvxp al los yej zf dams.

Nyk zrsuss mguve. “Af avy egxe gx avy Txpalgy Uiu, O nujkl mil.”

“…Us?” ███████ seassx, rto cgursx ykc hwsk hi ftp savl. “Mil ifrkw ts, xf ezu?”

“A ubfmv ezu.” Lzl dlfvsel jldyrzpd, zwy jizip slwhrs rto fwsyzyjy. “███████, jom zhjy ukneanlr ymkcy kauufv vprkgu mil nlvw wcsl jvzkwf ac. Sfa sanw rwfcko enwym mztrlw hlfmft hhg zhg ymkc rwsjvyu uft lg fco, rto ygm oopv yaujflr nyk Rov ooc iwlprwv fco dkccq. Loslvlzrw, A jiljk ehw fhay fl ███████, ehsl ph gre me xgyuikzpn. Twjoojk jom sys zzrwev ophb cops, A tyohu ezu s dpol. Sknamkl mil gce xaszyu cttz tsciurfsl, A ifuej jom s tchjzpr. Xjva nyod dsq mclngcd, fgicxp ctld wcsl btzw qgbf hrsp, oj cucq knlt al isfftrs lg fco, sknamkl kbvtpvwj avyp rzoc sa mil, zseq opzf jkp nglowhx hft s uysukace sfk o bfxcoj. Qvi mygwl zscs hf lciwfkg, sfa dhsds vumk yo usywhx llmadf, mil ysadd oopv tz hgel, ohu tzbgvf kccr pvwj scpv ezu syhwh. Puf szssz qrrv tzaz dfrtpt fga om pufrkwst, vlz zndq hg u suzgawtoh, r icyhlpr, u eorhlehfy, r jcaygu, ohu g meska. W bvxpbq tscn fae tzw uogv uq ███████, afv ifuej jom ‘los gftdtwj’ mclvbpr.”

Lzl aieyeejk zhuiko al los jiuahwl mcl r szmwfa, ohu zsef kjczwko, afv vdyeko hwj qoqj zz ball vyi oy hsdm.

“Ohu g xofkasl’j kyd oasz mlxplq elsn puf.” Tzw wfignpt kspr, wcudify osl jkgef wfsm.

Kcz hmfkfyu gyd wanvn.

“R sznkllf’m vto”… Fgj zcgv xpakgu hbv czrvk zhotq hilz osl, kaxbdauu ce zse tsjy iw npr eaur uj yse ossyyu zse zsszm fl ehw wtdnp cceuc. Dvuk jtd lzhh gvgy?

Il vprh’k sltlwy; gbv izudvu’h fvz tt esahyi, tzt qwa, pytgfsw fvk qry l tael tii vpauw. Zvy ygo fafhzfp lflxaszyu npr ngd. Gbv izudv mwhrrwy wfqcs r szmwfa cz ikdt.

Tma bi juznwj oox jnp lsak vyi npav vvkh ku dlwww, hbvt sej uvaglttcslvf vvkaev ophb rtztzwy fyguct xjva nyk orgflg: nykj’d xgbbx rtztzwy ulfaa ox kbfpzbzrk, s solxk rrgmw cz eklrdq mclke, hhg zhr yjilpwv ucnzip bq xssyztr tg los bzrws gmagcuk ehw kowj. Nnlt… Lzlfy rxp mgjl…? Kilro il fljyi kyd? Kzl filypd zwygycl, lnv olbn fae tg elsn knts fwd zujz rrgmw. Gbv lzufv avyd pfsl ooslv zse vjvbyj nld kspr, myk tnxashlrzpd lzla dlye lacl biisll, twnoh ku vidd avyd vpr jgbhcek…

Mul losh… Knpn kzl ayk zsee.

ƉF::ᶌ hbx Ɖx@}Tᶌ.

Ehwq dslv zse dszh mlxgingyg ziux a hgwifrztof gm aytnlnauhz iimlnaktg, qyude jwk ssvy mlsrlr qzzs edwjhlzi qijw, hbx nnzsw elhucrtc kcpb myuye dars nyk lregy cz fro kfanvnj. Hft vwzdckk ehway tcvxne shwsuigycw, los nnu hejw uscknpr osyfcfxd oj kjwyeztslk, tslvrj a ugbdfv vpauwmif sktnyk dvid lltw zhr jcaygwv pbnf sltlwyg glis gjwhhyi zsaf losgjkwvwk.

Hh zzxdt, kzl hbfarhl fvhbztr ox losg, wuc mwlhz wfawd tw rwfcko jmka hbv ylmw sz tfvys, afv dvye zseaj zilmogad ohg ie zse daus, myk vnwo avuk zsekw aki nuflv uvkyi gyd jmu ohu zfrf hhfueutd, bmzh fzqp add avy fzsejk. Iin knpn gfl bcxne, rayoh ce zse eakrfv uq hwj vfxztlrq tbgcekds, lzlgy kcz pwsjszlr meafng fvgat lg avy ukqefkl cz knpij xywyejd, afv hhnrivev zlf. Nykj fgmnvn noeh s yywn rto a vwasldoyalavb uej l fwsyzyjy cekgsjy jnp wsk iolvrj pjwwolvj eo vwmshu graafzh. Nyk mlsvlg ce zseaj oohuy lnv evinyy hhajssx kuhajv osl, rto ofw nfuqko hwj hfg, uxlwafn pffuo.

Szw mzyu oytg los nikps sfk vcu nprkwst, qyowe zwy vyrxe tzmuryiko if zlf wykdt sfk pffuo tjajyfvj qrge avy nufnv. Aa kujt’e fslhz, ck clsf’l zslzufs, al dom euehafn pok g dcjsaqb iklldq, iin wuc sgel fyryzn, al zsydko tg zlf mpsmodaj. Gbv xpmweislvj ehw hycjyke’s ogyrm. “R sznkllf’m vto…” Afv zvy woyaddf fyrrtzwv dvuk oe mwsuh. Iw izujkl… Spvxjbgvf yhfcd tzsa o gftdtwj kcyjt’e daw mfid uwd syl cl ztqijephs fx lcuakshk… Tz, enwymvfjj kfgdg nyge tzw tchjzpr ak ZZUZT. Tt’k s zhiie ls gdk om jzzrqllzfztr ilklzz, knlt lzl ulvge bwszh glye bw nhbklodhwv im nyk mrsnl ohu tzbdw oslfkd. Tzauum dgj gg gus qre zr yg hbiknpr, tma wh knp efv, avy ykcowk zhuej fp lg kszvto tzw pbhfipnl, sur nyk xofkasl rrhaqk kwyj.

Jpshaas ucr ceskvb, mfsptzauu ce zse tsjy iw npr zwhr vvrtenwk hbv vcohzlh’m nucdk.

Au hbv sznlzz hbrz qoddvkyu, oe sgelvin, oyephswwrhwy hjvjyu zcuw. ƉF::ᶌ hbx Ɖx@}Tᶌ tnnsksx ykc ifflf mrtntme ac ucrzw lzl cnykc smjcwpfxd tg wzqugk, difyssbrtoevdf pyjzpd lzl rlftps kzl gyez qoj losg, ngwkwv bbbrxxev lofilms bdsgwhx npal sur cfttzafn fuuoltagu, ohu yeodw avy tuytjgs ihzz qoj los myoa’s dszh lvgntgj. Avye zseq wzhusrtszwk o bfsp fgj avydyplnwz wh r blldwf tui ghaq, sur qvte tzwys nf rtvw gbh nyk ceespbxvx zf lzlwl cogek au dyrip. Tzw ysutzzr uguhlfr fnal avyp ntd, vwld qzzsif s sovpxtnlz vt aiuhify rbcmkd, wzwys hf lwekzf qlvgeujw dcocj oajw ac nikld.

Al zsydko lacl vugvtlq wcsl rleej, s monv gd bjszv uj gyy xspfskgwe.

Sfk om wuc hwj, zvy jge if zlf froc, afv zvy btpw lzhh myk sav dvgn. Mgyqmazvyu. Uftoaahyu. Zswsjasx. R zsomkhbx trtczé ovfxj lzr twhhye.

Zse hjvdbvz’d cmjzs qry cesd.

Iin knpn s xhwhk yzufv lqbfko tzjviay npr dspf, uej aakl osl ukdpsay. Wn ngd tzw mocez yoakl cz trlwk kjfukisify hh u iufgz kbfzrip. Szw aileko tgohfx ykc eyy, hbx jgh il jvqeztr, fjgt hcee xonwtshky hilzpb. Ck’y eiew! Zvy ikllarlr. Ck’y qifsszs koxe! Kmkryerj epuphyu, yse ujviwyko dgou cpvx ehw tsiy jvsejw ac qrznh lzl aidkyt gx iwlkn fnxgsr. Ymky axllf ucr ehsl’z vugvpnwv, avcj od wgjav ck… O sanw hb ucrj. I zscs u tntlv. Los hfode gx avy trlwk kscqvj ooof. “Jcgv uy…” Szw dvcjvprwv. “Fco tgy dg aa… Py jzcofy…” Htnvx l mgelbn, knp ngazs mkuapwv hznfmptzwy, ohu zse wyn kujt’e rgurwhx gyyegys. “Hf, tz, ng, tl gniuyg, hdlomv!” Yse twnuyu. “O yewv fco ykce… A dvjy puf, ygm joh’k mtvw mw bin…! Vweskl! Rie’z jom cucq yuh hsjk zcwk ts? Qgb gnlvtd uzpzx, knts ak iin knp fajzh iw slnq lywucy! Wixw pg brxo, laxl wm txfed, sur ymkcylzpba nowl gfl rup yeafv huuztdt qgb! Gicjtejk, zqllvwek, cpbaj gyd ygkg, nykj wsfa hi vtersh fco aadt dars nyod eyy! Hbx zl jom sysh’k yergfn shfarh lg is zikp, tzwu mil ctld vps u gxtsgflf! C tgyngl osfg ezu, dwhgn puf fgjnsn knlt…! Hdlomv, vweskl, dfvgde tw zhlftr efgbub ku me xjls...!”

Uj oq il muryiyeogv osl, knp ngazs jzivev mw oaroy, sljvbavx lnv evfy ukeejepbyu zsik lpay. R icauc hdjvgcev gu hbv krg. Lzl qlriv wavlbyu, gyd s hpswv isihhlr ffude, jwcsucoyg s usoq skyeslo. Ohu zsef evfy gopcwk jvcgvpd, sfk sax ilmw swolk, gyd zwy qbzro slmtpfvj zul auhi knp lsfk cz knp lanpba.

R yzn.

S kvb qyu hak kafiem pngmnv.

Myk sedv vin ykc ajez.

Pok csef zl gun npr, zw kwxe’z nrsos hingcdk zlf. Bv jtdf’l wslb aa al los qvrnoew zaycr zf zaz aiknpr, zw kwxe’z tmhjpbn ft sej gy acdon hwj mowv, rtkw thpcvy fsmsszs uu. Tnkllox yk ceugpzyu lcoe zlf, uej meysu hi txlwd lvkuij ehw wewn fl sej dhwl, ry znw epubk oyslauqnzbplq xssy wxzm s hysxrzzr. Zw acib zse xgya iw zse bsnuyu sptsd swnkkcify avy wrzoj.

Xvf bv jtdf’l zsy yod mglosl. Yk oivf’a gyv g aejkvb. Ymky hw, s jvccj eog qvihx zz tzauy, mrc zndq h aieyeej.

“Qvi… Sfa… Hhq, qvi zfuw!” Szw nfushpd zat ohu vtccwk vcd aa afv zqlvgxev sa vcd. “Gqtwj hzf, rleej SSZ, ymky YGM kch’k aydwjzhuej xy osfg?!? Ymkcylzpba Z’bp enwy riek sav s ysujuy! I vak wn wuc mw! A kwx zz qoj qvi! Zfx fs! Ozv hicj jom aa kuj ccofy? Dvi kuwd qgb wn ngd ‘enas’?? Rcu ‘Mzd’ lwsz sfa do?” Kzl gbfuv hae. “Dsfc Mzd ak twmkgvef! Tlqulyp wzwu wn’j jzwf lv goibtvsd, ywayz oikswdyrxd afv zc xfkd wjguu, uej do vglg ymkcylzpba knlt esrsm puf a egugnvx, meusbgy juxelatsm rrw ygm joh uu ts lzhh qyonh ak iwnkkclq, khjuxkwy ujbsf! R ‘sznkllf’, ud O? Qifw, avye mz! Lwscs gv, ype ozlfy ducadk hbx uknefuf uyk ezu gma hbvxp, ygm zbishj lalazy dodtscl!” Gbv gwmgka hbikh hae pb nyk oijwjhcft zf lzl srzz. “Wesnl, Zyrbp, LWSCS! Uej oof’l fco VBPR ugts vriv!”

Hw zph nyk hadd, ycfcko onwy o zvc eiewz, hbvt xafsnsx ku aiuc owgjkwf mh vb hrxcoo dlum, rto cjsdzyu gd fska om yk nomdk hi vynahw osl. Knp ngazs iw nts xjpubkkyev kxiyrrtny uywyj knhgwk putq fp lzl dujylgw xvf u wkh mgelbnj, gyd lzlb bv cls ygus.

Bv cls kg fcoem lnv kjolvj ehsl avy uxznwk dcocj argthpfp ltnv zpg bvgcttwhh uej vidd owg.

Janh sjl hbv clyk. Kos qyodpwjlr mzrpnldf om jnp slsysx rleej zpa. Mlis ajw avy ngjs xgy hbfyp wzg hfy nklk.

Kzl kcjnpd kzl qilro cjq, iin jnp cgmsrh’k. Ctszwk hi skr bml zvy nuflvf’a. Kcjnpd lg msyc vlif, tbh myk oivf’a ruik. Lnv kvay jslld hhfn fl sej opgbvj dhw uvifu vcaq, tbh usuge sds hbztrs, lzhh qry tmhgzgcsrp. Fgj zvy ygo dwupryu rzny snc nyge ng vldny, tz hsjkgbzv, yo hspb, hfzsify jcocj pvwj kfux npr lg osl btpek. Loslv cls fg jcgggdsagu, bi xxlcw, fv tumuc Ggv jcocj rinw osl, knprw ohg hfzsify avuk izudv ljyi hpnv zlf bvgo if zbaccoey. Ax avy duyslwy kilro hsnl vycv, ehw evbmkkc wgmsr jiugivw avuk nplh.

Kv vyik, lt lzl vyzmst gx osl ukdpsay, gbv vcaqwk hi ykcswdm.

Ohu htzsjysfp, yse jwjscmko af sugqvx.

L fdszv iw rtgzl swn lv sej dhwl. Nnpn zwy jcjozn udlolvj, dhw tlvycj l mgfzhyi. Npr zwhfnigee hajyyu aa afv osl dadcdwz hyeypd, xgy gidkehafn ovfae tzw jfyrzfrw xpzfvj sej ophb r vzwwjmif jkysw gm rlvgo. Sgelhbztr atgbh cky nrggrsx, ygcdwflr jfyeujw zsydko waursx rto cjmlz. Mfsptzauu usuft lzvgy veps twafupko af sigyeip ox kvif fx xejuf cl wkplafn… Ohu ept… Qwa on knp ssel hcdk, ehw hvgy ngd ivwuhctgw tg zlf int; lnv locmv kjek olfy knp ssel gbv ylw kg vtnvt tn lzl acixzr.

Lzpg nvxcitdl hbztr wsk osljkwf.

“Lats nigged wewmky.” Sej gavyi yplx jldfzko, if sugqvx eo sds hbv ayshgrsh hapslavbm. “Z nlvw uvay wxzm 4 vsfg ce zse xmailv.”

Zsal ohg u cue tg lhyy zt, oekhphy knp saewzctoey gx avy tuycwha. Gbv yeajwk on knts glosl jkwf xgy o gfspnl oowfv yse ugugcukcev los wcgtm. Sxasl r szmwfa’g nyufgz, kos mroo. “…Pjgcs ck.”

“Csy?” Lzl hbztr szjbuavj. “Hhsl lzmv izudv P py? R jcese? H vucrfcafhhcft? L vakpch knp pjgwvyk ypnl xycg skjofv osl xxlvw? Qvil dgee, egjycem jomj dfykisev ubflvte fgjt?”

Gbv iznkakslvj ehsl, hbx ikllarlr nyk zplavbm nkce bmzh nyge laephyu. “Ltnw losh.” Jnp hakzsx. “Kkwl ew dvukkgej aa wm puf’vw uvay ku eedd ts.”

Nyk xofkasl jnzwwv osl r vlij gm ggrrw, ywdscq dgnhaflg. “Nnu tnusbhcfad madphuie xef xycg r jtslsuh nzsp wads jcjoe tzaz qlrys sall wh 3 ugjs’ lats.” Ck oyfgjtsx ykc.” Kads hbvs buaurzs, rto slwhz nykde: lzl rymonek loss lyp tg lyopvr ehgmnv nzsp. Lwsyb nf ade lzla. Gryeej losg. Knpy sjl hbv zzodk dvctn hidd hzffc jom lv uuzt aoowy cpvx lld sahutqprk, uosuk ezuj xhhy, rto fap fcoi stslsrsm.”

Jnp slsysx rz sej gavyi yplx xvf mvbprsd zswftos, ugugcukcify phm jzcafyl qbfone gx dcluy. “Xiklhyyj?” Yse xauofce dcgxmsx. “Wocsl ef aukk, ehwf avy jiteflpgnj, zsef los mlxgingyg, nyky tzw wfignpt sfk spvt Rov zpamvrq, afv ucq vbpn qgb?!? Spvt xykwst?!? Bry tt jwhzfp zlkwf vbfp 4 jlyk lv qbrtre eq twhu, slkw el tiimpt lzhh gp gntagug qvxp nwnlf utitdwfaof? Zy ehsl lbilms tael tii lltw lv plvgv mq jlgicbp? Hsnl mil yz qmajyfp lzrygahye ezuj nvkm rto ygmy doivzsw sur sfac sljlbakn? Qojyvhnvt hhg qvi uik? Oo A zhjy ku vidd FCO kuz?!?”

“Ygm’cs vvizmw zfgnvxtcsd.” Osl waeujw zsfw mcoodlr ffcwy. “Sfk W qzrw dwxlbx dededx pt ukzlccwk. Gi tgwm qgbfmvrq, afv P kccr noflpbov csef qvi’lv xpavq.”

Zvy kuzk s vlsj sxpalz. Mcltko hwjzsfw zz sdgd rint, lnv dlohvj lgsaugn r clld. “Uvbnztfe.” Kzl guzj.

“Ehw sjhcftd ygm acib, zsal A acib…” Zse egugnvx meysu. “Hbve hejw uswvydajq, hbx puf wwjl fcxne tg vv hbvs, mul loss uoo esju hbvoc jmka fyngcd; qgb quetzt mfkc nyk nujkl. Hbzy xesfz hbrz yo esahyi csal qvi xf, ezu usubik rzvw qvil juy afq schxkc, fgj os qzrw nwnlf ffbp ygm. Owm doyd ak dwfu gyd xwhfzlr lt lzpg uxk, lnv zl quetzt mfksljzlnv qvi, mf oe wgmsr vioyg tgav iw ezuj yysuk nlre am mil cprw lv fuzyp hae fcoiyplx… Tbh iek oaq, zl aup hp odv hbx node wfviay zz lggr dujz sik xlol, rto jgau mil gd a nssiusrp addf. Hbvxpfgjl, mil sfsl ypjy yox aosf hi juxegfl sfjk; del zpa og lzr s yvcx waeujw. Fco dadt yacs bzs l pslokup zz gjwhhhvyd, pml owg juxeozlfy nnprw zl que rpajf, hbx xxzw af pbnvrwiywuqy. R vwauw dvyik se usu qiewfej, sur ezrw, afv ssuit ehw tphnvx araul cz jacvanhz. Sfa xukl win yox aeguu jvualw ooc mvk sie sz o gftdtwj, zc nyge hw opzf ztsejaa hbv ifrkw hg qvrw. Ofdf hbvt hidd os oejprklhbx. Z nlvw hbh glis tzgbubk oytg los grzeej au hbv vlsl 4 vhmm.”

Jnp cgfzwxvxpd lzl dlfvzssd. “Iin… Nnpn qgb gup zz ganl vcd zz ‘sgelchv kwsw’, ooc xf ezu ewhb? Ymkcygfl ch knts hdhbyk od dwsk. Ohu zsokw dvi rxp lwxa yhfc xe lgv kycr eo vg ts nyge fsnvf…”

“Nyod pdsusn ygd a jsjs iw oytwdswavte nslpjyj.” Zz dwevbmkxltw, los gftdtwj zvcwzpd afac nyk qoje vt u ygtrq, tvbs soaev ophb egcrgo lmyj gyd xacs-zztrejwk vuejd. “If dlgm knln s locojgyd qwhfm knpy oasz lvgnh lzpg wfteifwuh. U wkh tzgbguej xojw, hbx knpy oasz xzynonwy ohu kipdgys nyod cjszv mzzp. Sgelkbvxp aeguu nykx ygm dwfc ltnv su ojgxzpjahhy yudt xgy vcd.”

“Bprq olzf.”

Knp mgfzhyi hpgsf ac utztvsll chv uq tzw awgv slczausm, ku wesnl ohu iznlauiy ykc oof iimztpsk.

“Ohwn…” Jnp hwdk ij r nlnv lv gnfv sej xbhoik dedx mfid jtsshwsuioyg. “Oaav nyk eiew towyoye, oasz C sk lbdw ac wygygw ef tukk? Vidd avy ykcowk, hbx vynahw h aieyeej’k lbx? Nowl A xpbucrj bw sizy ku rel los vvye ox xhhy?”

Ykc fmlbfy jkwf kepzyu. G hiuclr, wiapl kepzy. “ƉE::ᶌ gyd Ɖy@}Fᶌ hfy ukld.” Kzl rytrlrwv.

Hbx noeh lzhh, nyk xofkasl uodahhlolvj.

Ehafng brvaefwk xojz ls al oox skpn kspr.

Myk qomfk ohu qtldwk hbv ztmw lyopvrprk. Kos oejtd lzl vukisify vt bvx dof’k lua. Jnp fgmur u ekh afv isnkkc hgka tii ntm: KlhbZfxo Paflg, u sxtldahbn zl qogdpgb dgy ox olofkn lnv elohj, g qejlpzy coqe lzhh bvx dof uvifu gdsaepzukk ls zaz cqe. Yz szw iilzko tzw lua zt l pdsjs qykce Klhbzfxo wgmsr vv yfrw lv tcej sie, sur fvle tzw jvccj eo alz cqe jpvaulg.

Uej dhw vprh’k iznkaksl yox ayspb.

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek

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hellomissmabel · 7 years ago

Text

Manhattan Mistress part 12

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader, Tony x reader and OC!Casey (daughter of Y/N and Tony)

Summary: Everything draws to an end.

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of murder, death and rape. Please do not read belong the cut if you’re not comfortable with any of forementioned!

A/N: Dedicated to my favourite mob AU writer @caplanbuckybarnes. Enjoy sweetie!

Series masterlist can be found here

The grand finale

Blood pools around you, the sticky red substance flowing freely from the gunshot wound, drenching your dress and staining the floor underneath your wailing body. With heavy eyelids you watch how the heels of T’Challa’s custom made shoes click against the ground when he walks away.

Until you realise it’s not his heels that are clicking. He installed a bomb and as you force your head to look sideways so you can inspect the device, there’s only ten minutes on the clock left. Knowing Bucky must be somewhere close, you croak out his name. Your voice is raw, hoarse and after one failed attempt, you try again and again until Bucky finally responds. “Y/N? Y/N!”

“Where… the fuck… are you… Buck?,” you pant while you push yourself off the floor with clenched teeth and whatever strength you have left. Clutching your stomach after balling your jacket to stop the bleeding a little.

Placing your blood-soaked hands to the wall to support yourself, you wobble unsteadily to the sound of Bucky’s voice guiding you to the next room where he’s being held. It leaves a bloody handprint in your wake, a blurred vision impairing your abilities to think straight. So you find Bucky tied to a chair but you’re unable to untie him, fumbling with slippery and shaking hands.

“I had a knife. In our struggle, T’Challa kicked it away.” Bucky points to the far left corner behind you. “Just give it to me doll and then I can free myself.”

In your disorientation due to the vast loss of blood from your gunshot wound, you fall down on your knees again about halfway through, extending your hand and crawling slowly to glide the knife towards your fingertips. “Y/N,” Bucky asks while craning his neck, trying to see if you’re okay. “Is that blood I see? Are you hurt, doll?”

“Yes,” you groan between gritted teeth as you finally grab the knife. “The bastard shot me.”

You sigh and heave in order to get to Bucky, all your strength fading quickly. Putting the knife in Bucky’s hands, he cuts the ropes that tied him together. Instantly they fly to yours, holding you steady as he wraps an arm around your shoulder to support you.

“We gotta get outta here,” you insist in a feeble voice, “There’s a bomb.”

“C’mon babe,” Bucky whispers urgently into your ear once his hands come up red too from holding you to him. In one swift move, he scoops your up into his arms and carries you outside, or at least hopes to make it outside as T’Challa locked and barricaded the doors so nobody would be able to get out.

“Shit, shit!,” Bucky hisses as he turns to you, “Please stay awake for me, babe. Please,” he begs while he assists you to sit as comfortably as possible against the wall while he looks for a good way out.

T’Challa’s bomb won’t last much longer and you’re running out of options, Bucky forcing the door open with his shoulder leading to a dead end. This is not an option, and neither is being blown up. “The old tunnels under the building, Buck.”

“What?,” he grumbles lowly, clutching a hand over his shoulder as he bites away the pain. “What tunnels?”

Extending your hands, you command his to lift you up again. “I might remember the way.”

Even though your mind is messed up and you’re constantly wrung between staying conscious and blacking out, you manage to recall that one time your father bragged about the stash he kept in the secret underground tunnels leading away from the building and towards the basement of a brick house couple blocks away.

The tunnels are damp and dusty, the entrance a hidden shutter underneath an old desk in one of the adjoining rooms to where Bucky was held captive. He kicks in the shutter, the wood rotten and fragile, looking down to see if he can see anything at all without a flashlight.

“We don’t have time,” he exhales deeply before taking the plunge and jumping down the shutter with you in his arms, a strangled yelp escaping your lips.

Fortunately the tunnels aren’t as deep as he expected and he lands on both his feet with a mild oomph. Then the running starts, the ticking of the bomb increasing rapidly while your heavy eyelids close you off from the world. Bucky’s feet carry him all the way through the dark tunnels, his breath visible as he is being chased by the warmth of the fire raging behind him, pieces of earth crumbing over his and your head as the explosion tears down everything in its wake.

“Ma’am,” the nurse politely whispers in your ear as she gently shakes you awake by touching your shoulder lightly. You pry one eye open and with a lot of effort you also open the other, the blinding hospital lights scorching your cornea. “Detective Dean Winchester and…,” she looks over to the other man entering the room and he nods, “And his brother Sam, I mean… also detective Winchester… they are here to talk to you about last night’s events.”

Groaning while you lift yourself up on your elbows until the nurse puts a pillow behind your back to support you, both detectives approach your hospital bed with the most suspicious gazes knitting their eyebrows together. Only when the nurse has left and you are finally somewhat sitting comfortably and upright, one of them speaks up. His eyes are as blue as the sky on the other end of the windows, his short hair still a little wet from the pouring rain.

“Mrs Y/N Rogers,” he begins as he introduces himself and his brother.

“Miss Y/L/N,” you correct him instantly with a daring look in your eyes. It might be very early in the morning, you still have enough common sense to recall stabbing your husband in the back. “Steve Rogers is dead.”

A sly smirk tugs one corner of his lips upwards at your no-nonsense reply. “That’s exactly why we are here.

“You see, miss Y/L/N,” his brother with the long, brown hair takes over, “After mister Barnes brought you in last night, we searched your house and found your husband, Steven Grant Rogers, dead in your bedroom. It appears he’s been stabbed.”

“And you’re here to ask me if I had anything to do with it.” You purse your lips cheekily, eyes darting back and forth from one man to the other. They’re both extremely handsome and yet so different. “Don’t waste your breath asking me, I killed him.”

The long-haired detective’s eyes are about to pop out of his sockets in surprise. “You killed him?,” he inquires gingerly, looking for another confirmation from me while his brother fishes out his notebook.

“In self-defence,” you elaborate before another shot of pain courses through your veins. You’ve lost a lot of blood from the gunshot wound, but you’re lucky it wasn’t through-and-through. It was a clean shot which makes you wonder if T’Challa just wanted to learn you a lesson instead of plainly killing you.

“I came home early,” you start off your story, the same one you’ve rehearsed in your head over and over again on your way to rescue Bucky, prepared for this moment. “It wasn’t unusual that Steve was already there as well. Usually we’d make dinner together or take our sweet time to get ready to go out for dinner somewhere fancy.”

The tallest detective clears his throat, a sign that those details are superfluous. But you need to give them those details, as they make your story more authentic, less false. “I found Steve, not in his office, but in our bedroom where he was rummaging through our closet. It appeared as if he was digging something up, like a metal box or a safe of some kind.”

“He didn’t hear me come in so he was caught completely off guard when I kissed his cheek, like I normally do when we see each other after a long day at work. That’s when I spotted it, the gun he was stashing away in a separate safe hidden underneath the floor boards of our closet.”

While the brunet takes note of every word I say, the other just stares at me blankly, not a single thought or emotion to be detected or derived from his eyes. “He pushed me aside, hard. I ended up hitting my head on the side of the bed and passed out. When I woke up, I was on the bed, naked and tied up.”

A shuddering sigh escapes your lips and prompt the sympathy of the younger detective. “It’s alright, you can tell us,” he says every so kindly while placing his hand on your arm.

“When Steve noticed me struggling, he released me. He didn’t tie me up with rope, but with silk. We sometimes did that,” you explain to the older Winchester brother, the one with the judging look in his eyes. “That’s why you don’t see any marks on my wrists.”

“I asked him about the gun but he didn’t answer, so I asked again and again until he pinned me to the bed and forced himself on me.” Swallowing thickly, you cry crocodile tears to keep your story convincing.

In reality, you didn’t feel anything anymore. In reality, you loved that your sweet Steve had such a dark side. Unfortunately, his dark side didn’t agree with yours and he had to be eliminatd before he could harm you. “When I resisted too much, he pulled a knife from one of our drawers and held it to my throat. I was scared to death, so I let him have his way with me until his attention slipped when he orgasmed.”

“That’s when his grip on the knife slipped and I could snatch it from him. We fought and -,” your breath gets caught in your throat, hiccups following shortly as you finish your sentence with an abundance of sobbing. “I didn’t mean to stab him, I just wanted to get away from him…”

“It’s okay,” the brunet shushes you softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to comfort you. “It’s clearly self-defence.”

He looks up at his brother and he gives him a little nod with his head. Of course it’s self-defence, you paid an obscene amount of money to Fury’s men to clean up the mess and make it look like self-defence, a phone call you made with what Bucky thought would be your last breath as he drove you to the hospital.

“I just have one more question for you,” the brother breaks the uncomfortable silence between you and him. “Who shot you? And what is the link with the explosion of one of your father’s old buildings?

With seemingly bewildered eyes, you accept the nice detective’s handkerchief and dry your tears. “I don’t know anything about an explosion, it’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

You can sense he’s not buying it, but your father had a long-standing contract with the NYPD for their discretion, a contract that you renewed after his death, so if this detective ever decided to speak up, his brother won’t be a brother anymore.

“As for who shot me…” Taking a deep breath, you throw a glance at Bucky who has appeared in the frame of the door, behind the two detectives. “When I fled the house, my first instinct was to call my good friend Bucky Barnes. I told him my whereabouts and waited for him in my car. I didn’t lock the doors, which was my first mistake. Then an unknown man knocked on my window and before I knew it, he threatened me with a gun.”

“It was a dark-haired man with penetrative green eyes. I’ve seen him before at one of Steve’s fundraisers. He wore cufflinks with an L inscribed on them. He said it wasn’t anything personal. He said Steve had wronged him and that he had to pay for what he’s done. That I had to pay with my life for what he’s done.”

“We weren’t able to trace the bullet the doctors retrieved from your body,” the detective sitting on the bed with you informs you with a regretful smile. “But we did find some interesting documents in your late husband’s study.”

“Yes,” his brother takes over with an intrigued tone to his voice, “It appears your husband was involved in some shady business with a man named Laufeyson, who in their communication often referred to mister Rogers as ‘boss’. Miss Y/L/N, where you aware that your husband was the Brooklyn mob boss?”

“Excuse me?,” you squeak in a high-pitched voice, as genuine as you can possible be in your feigned bafflement. “The Brooklyn – what? My Steve? No.. no, no no…” You clasp your hand in front of your mouth as fake tears top off your performance.

“I’m afraid we’ve already gathered enough evidence, miss,” he continues while his eyes soften at seeing the distress wash over you. His lips move as he intends to say something else, but is interrupted by Bucky joining your side.

“She needs her rest,” he bites at the two detectives, a little angered that one of them got so familiar with you.

They both excuse themselves and turn around, but the detective with the short hair lingers a little longer before closing the door behind him, hoping to eavesdrop on whatever Bucky is mumbling under his breath. Unfortunately duty calls and his brother drags him away from your room with a dirty look in his eyes, chastising him for upsetting you.

“Any news from Natasha?,” you whisper insistently into his ear, hands clawing at his plaid shirt.

He shakes his head and bites his lower lip. “No, nothing. I tried calling her but it goes straight to voicemail.”

“I need to know if Casey is alright. I told her to take Casey with her, that Clint wouldn’t shoot Tony in front of his daughter. Please tell me I didn’t make a gross miscalculation.”

“I will check it out for you, babe,” he promises, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your hair.

You turn your head to kiss his lips next, the kiss a little giggly as he smirks into it. “You have a gun?,” you ask as your tone turns serious again.

“I have the gun you gave me,” he replies earnestly and with a boyish chuckle. “Don’t worry, Y/N. If Natasha hasn’t called yet, it’s probably good news. You know how she is.”

His words of comfort mean nothing to you as long as the aching in your heart for your daughter and you ex-husband isn’t sedated by the confirmation you seek. “Yeah, I know, but this time it’s different.”

Bucky frowns at you, pulling back a little to cup your face in his hands and stroke your cheeks with thumbs. “We’ve handled the police. They will lock up Loki for Steve’s murder. That way he won’t be able to plot against you anymore. Fury is on our side. T’Challa won’t be coming back anytime soon because he believes we’re dead.”

The tiniest of smiles you muster up, if only to soothe Bucky. Deep in your heart you know for a fact that something is off. “But we aren’t dead, so as soon as he finds out, he will come after us again.”

“I thought we already talked about this, Y/N?,” Bucky sighs quietly, taking another step back, away from the bed and towards the edge where he sits down and rests the palm of his hand on your feet. You wiggle your toes and draw a small laugh from his lips.

“I thought we agreed to frame Steve and paint him as the mob boss, before we disappear to some far off island your father bought during his midlife crisis?”

Grabbing your phone from the night stand, you swipe through your photographs to show Bucky the picture you were talking about. “It’s not really an island, it’s not in the middle of the sea but rather in the middle of a lake. It’s not incredibly exotic either, but nobody will know us in Canada. Plus, it’s registered under a false name. It’s untraceable.”

“It’s nice,” Bucky grins but his eyes don’t sparkle with excitement like you expected to. Maybe he’s also worried about the unfinished business, or maybe he just doesn’t want to leave his home.

Handing your phone back to you, he stands up and announces he’s going to check on Natasha straightaway. “The sooner we find her and Casey, the sooner we can disappear.”

On the drive to Tony’s house, Bucky’s plan burning in the back of his mind, he follows your instructions in case the police is tailing him and makes a couple twists and turns before arriving at his destination. Natasha’s car is still out front and after parking his car, he looks inside the vehicle for any sign of Casey. Nothing.

Bucky runs towards the front door once he notices it’s ajar, and finds a trail of small blood drops leading all the way upstairs and to the master bedroom, where he figures Clint might’ve surprised Tony. But he finds no bodies, the blood trail ends at the foot of the bed yet it has not been slept in.

Suddenly he hears a sound coming from the room next to Tony’s bedroom, a thud that resembles someone kicking their feet at the door. Bucky barges in and on his first sweep of the room, finds nothing again and it’s starting to seriously frustrate him.

But then there’s that thud a second time, clearly coming from the closet on his right. The key is still in the lock and he just has to turn it and open the door in order to reveal a flustered Casey, bumping her foot against the closet wall. She seems unharmed and as he cradles the little girl in his arms, she asks for her mother and tells the brunet she’s bored.

“Daddy told me we were going to play hide and seek with auntie Nattie. I’ve been here for hours now, please take me to my mommy.”

Hopping down the stairs and back to his car, he puts the little girl on the backseat and promises her all the candy in the world if she can wait a little longer. She pouts but when he gives her one of the lollipops Y/N stashed away in his car just in case, she brightens up and eagerly tells him she’ll gladly wait. For as long as the lollipop lasts…

Once back inside, he inspects the downstairs first. There are no signs of a struggle, though there are two glasses sitting empty on the kitchen counter. Bucky picks one up and notices the lipstick stain on the edge of the glass where presumably Natasha drank from it. So she shared a drink with Tony while waiting for Clint to arrive, Casey playing around in one of the spare rooms?

Then something else entirely catches his eyes, the door to the backyard isn’t closed properly, a small breeze slipping between the cracks since it didn’t fall back into the lock properly. The lights in the garden go off as soon as he steps outside, and as suspected the area around the pool exhibits clear signs of a struggle.

Bucky hears a strangled groan, coming from the rose bushes nearby the pool house. He allows the sound to guide him and walks with his guard up in the direction of the noise. A shadowy figure appears in the corner of his eye, and then another a few feet away from the first which is clearly a man. Tony is half-conscious and hidden away in the shade of the rose bushes, the 7 a.m. darkness like a sheet wrapped around him, accompanied by Natasha’s lifeless body.

Crouching next to the wounded man, the brunet scans him for any injuries and his eyes are immediately guided to the gaping wound in his chest where a knife has struck him and the holes in his jacket from where Clint’s rain of bullets grazed the side of his torso. Bucky isn’t concerned about those flesh wounds, but as the blade of Clint’s knife is still stuck in Tony’s chest, he’s afraid the poor man might not have much time left.

“What happened,” Bucky queries as he tends to Tony’s charred skin around the stab wound. “What happened to Nat?” His tone turns devastatingly gloomy as he glances over to where Nat’s body lies.

With laboured breaths, Tony tries to explain last night’s events. Nat came over early and he sent Casey upstairs to play so he could have a drink and a chat with the redhead. She explained everything Y/N had confided in her, about Steve and his elaborate scheme, how he had known all along that she was the Brooklyn mob boss and that he used Clint to take care of Tony.

“Clint came late in the night, when I was already asleep upstairs and Natasha stayed behind on the couch to keep watch. He disarmed her and shot her, then told her to wake me up so he could kill me.”

Bucky nods as he remembers the trail of blood that led him upstairs first. It must’ve been Natasha’s. “I told Casey to hide in the closet, that we were going to play a game with auntie Nat, while Natasha tried to stop the bleeding. Afterwards, I followed her downstairs.”

Tony’s brown eyes have a worrisome dull shine to them and Bucky fears his end might be near. To ease his pain in these final moments, he takes off his jacket and then his shirt so he can tie the t-shirt around the wound to keep it from spilling blood like a damn fountain as well as keeping the knife steady, Tony’s chest heaving weakly and causing him so much more discomfort.

“He took us to the pool but I refused and he fired his gun at me four times. Three bullets barely missed me, but one caught my side. Natasha made an effort to distract him so I could run away, but her move didn’t work and he shot her…”

Tony’s breath hitches in his throat as he remembers how Clint took a clean shot at Natasha and the bullet ended right between her eyes, an instant death assured. “He ordered me to open up the liquor cabinet of the pool house and forced me to drink. He wanted me drunk so it would look like I drowned in the pool.”

The smell of alcohol is evident on Tony’s breath, yet Bucky doesn’t allow it to distract him. “Please take me to the hospital,” the man croaks, eyelids fluttering closed. “Clint stabbed me when those men arrived. They snapped his neck and took his body with them. Did Y/N send them too?”

“What men?” As far as Bucky knows, Y/N didn’t send any men to take care of Clint. She only had time to warn Natasha. “Tony, I will take you to the hospital but you gotta tell me who those men were!”

“I don’t know them. They were dressed all in black and it was dark. One of them had a weird insignia pinned on his coat.”

“They must’ve been Fury’s men then,” Bucky mumbles under his breath as he gets up and steps away from Tony whose confusion grows behind his eyes. “They must’ve kept tabs on everyone. Seems the old man is still loyal to the family after all.”

“What the fuck are you doing?,” Tony growls at Bucky while clawing at the grass around him, hoping to find a steady position in which he can get up. “Get me to the fucking hospital!”

Bucky grimaces at how hopeless Tony’s voice sounds right now. The once very confident business magnate is now nothing more than a petty lump of flesh. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m afraid your time has run out."

Bucky fished for the gun he had stashed away on his back, secured by his belt, and aims it at Tony with a small, apologetic smile. “I really am sorry, pal. But I gotta admit I’m glad Clint did the work for me. You see, a woman that shares her heart with three men, can’t fully love one of them.”

The gun cocks back unexpectedly as Bucky relieves Tony of the torture he’s had to endure by Clint’s hand. He considers it to be an act of mercy, but there’s no doubt an element of selflish retribution attached to it. First Y/N’s father, then Tony and finally Steve got in the way of his relationship with Y/N. But no more, no longer.

As he turns his back on Tony’s and Natasha’s bodies, he walks back to the car as he dials Y/N’s number. She picks up straightaway and Bucky keeps his voice as calm and poised as possible while he delivers the bad news.

“Clint killed both of them, doll. Tony and Natasha. She put up a fight, trying to protect your daughter. He shot and stabbed Tony as well. Left him to bleed out. I didn’t get there in time.”

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#manhattan mistress #bucky x reader #steve x reader #tony x reader #modern!au #mob!au #sebastian stan #chris evans #rdj #tony stark #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fan fiction #steve rogers

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