#and one day of course i hope you can soberly tell me how you feel without fear

[sister-lucifer]

https://open.spotify.com/track/4MO41ebvl5DLmHNjJHtsbG?si=3UO3iHoOSRys1Vub5ZLgdw

it we.

it we.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Runaway | Ch 22

Summary: Instead of attending her spot at a top college in the fall, Y/N runs away from her home on the East Coast and ends up on a city bench in L.A. – lost, cold, and utterly alone. When one of her favourite actors, Jared Padalecki, passes her on his way home from a club with his best friend Jensen, while Y/N is getting ready to sleep in the street on that bench, he finds he can't just walk by.

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Warnings: trauma victim, extended hospitalisation due to trauma, trauma victim triggered Tags: AU, slow burn, rumours about sexual misconduct, angst, friends fighting, making up, smoking (tobacco) Word Count: 2,502

Series masterlist | Read ahead on my website

Jared strode out of the hospital as quickly as he could without actually running. He felt horrible. Sandra had promised him it wasn’t his fault, that these things happen sometimes, but he still felt awful; triggering a reaction like that for Meredith hadn’t happened for nearly a year, he’d hoped she was past it by now, but evidently not. He wondered what exactly had set it off this time. The only thing he could think of was the videos he was playing out loud on his phone. Maybe the unfamiliar male voice had frightened her when he let the video of Morgan play.

That reminded him, he still didn’t know what that video was about. Now ensconced in the safety of his car, he pulled the app back up and rewound the video to the beginning. Fuck, he thought as he watched it through. This was not good.

“The allegations made against me are something that I’m, of course, taking very seriously.” The Morgan in the video spoke soberly to the camera. “But, I would appreciate the opportunity to tell my side of the story.

“Starting with the accusation of assault at the party in Europe. I’m not going to reveal her name because it seems she wants to remain anonymous and that’s absolutely fine, but this accusation is something that she and I have discussed in the past. I’ve apologised profusely, and I thought we had put this behind us.

“We were both drinking at that party, drinking too much, really, and I wholeheartedly believed at the time that what we were doing was consensual. I was devastated to learn later that she didn’t feel the same, and I am incredibly sorry for any pain the incident caused, but we both agreed that it was an honest mistake, one that I take full responsibility for, but a mistake nonetheless. I am saddened that she has gone to the press and, in my opinion, misrepresented the incident, but obviously she has a right to her own story and I don’t want to silence her if she feels the need to speak about it.”

Jesus Christ.

“In response to the allegation of sexual harrassment on the set of Paris Remembered, this has come as a massive shock to me. I don’t remember anything of the sort happening on that set, and I don’t know the identity of the person who is accusing me of this behaviour. I am planning on cooperating fully with any investigation that results from this accusation, however, it is my impression at this time that this is a false allegation made against me by someone looking to capitalise on the publicity of the incident I’ve already addressed.

“Thank you for watching, and listening to my side of the story. I hope you all have a stellar weekend.”

The video ended and the screen went black. Jared let out a shaky breath. He really couldn’t believe it. He’d never seen Morgan act inappropriately towards anyone, on set or off. He sounded really upset and genuinely apologetic about the incident he owned up to, and Jared could see how easily things like that can be skewed by the media, particularly in this day and age. But the sexual harrassment allegation just made no sense to him, that wasn’t like Morgan at all.

Sighing heavily, Jared ran his hands through his hair to shake off the tension that was tightening up his whole body. He needed a drink. Badly.

Starting up his car he reversed out of his spot and weaved through the parking lot to turn back onto the main road towards the centre of town. He didn’t have a particular place in mind, so he stopped at the first bar he passed. It was just going on evening, so the place wasn’t very crowded yet, and that suited Jared just fine.

Walking up to the bar, he dropped himself heavily onto a stool and asked the bartender for a beer.

“Can you be a bit more specific?” the bartender asked, half joking.

“Dealer’s choice,” Jared grunted. He didn’t particularly care what he drank, so long as it helped him relax a little bit.

“A bit early for the dark broody stranger at a bar act, isn’t it?” A familiar voice spoke just behind his shoulder, and Jared turned to see Jensen standing behind him. His hands were in his pockets, and he was hovering a few steps further away than he normally would be, clearly unsure if Jared would want to see him.

Jared didn’t answer him.

“Are you okay, man?” Jensen asked cautiously, taking a step closer, and Jared heaved a sigh. If anyone would understand what a crappy day he’d had, it was Jensen, and he could really use someone to talk to right now.

“I uh,” Jared cleared his throat when his voice came out scratchy, then tried again. “I just visited Mere in the hospital.” He paused, and Jensen nodded understandingly, taking the unoccupied seat beside his friend.

“Was it one of her bad days?” Jensen asked sympathetically, and Jared nodded. “I’m sorry, man. I know how tough that is on you.”

“I just feel so awful that I can’t do anything about it,” Jared sighed, taking a sip from the drink that the bartender had deposited in front of him a few seconds ago. “It’s pretty shitty when the best thing you can do to help your little sister is not be there.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jensen agreed. “Fuckin’ sucks, dude.” Hesitantly, he reached out and patted his hand on Jared’s shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. Jared was grateful for the contact, after having to be so careful in the hospital not to touch Meredith, being able to interact so casually with Jensen was a relief.

“Thanks, man,” Jared gave his friend a tight smile. They both knew there wasn’t much else they could say about it, this was just the way it was now, but having someone else who understood what was going on was comforting in and of itself.

“Did you want to talk about it at all?”

“There’s not much to say about it,” Jared shrugged, taking another drink. “It was probably my fault she got triggered, I was watching this video on my phone out loud, I think hearing the new voice upset her.”

“What video were you watching?” Jensen raised his brow sceptically.

“First it was a press interview of Quinn and me for the movie, but she started screaming during the video with Morgan,” Jared explained.

“Has she ever done anything like that before?” Jensen probed, and Jared shrugged again.

“Not with a video, but we both know how she reacts around men. She was reading so she probably wasn’t expecting to hear a new voice, I think it just startled her.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jensen shrugged too. He certainly wasn’t a psychiatrist, and Meredith’s condition had always been pretty volatile since the attack. If Jared didn’t think it was that unusual than who was he to say it was. He just felt awful that his best friend had to deal with any of this. Not being able to have a conversation with your sister, or even hug her, he couldn’t imagine just how difficult that was. And he knew Jared still blamed himself for the whole thing, even though it was obviously not his fault.

“So,” Jared cleared his throat and changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on it any longer, “what have you been up to?”

“Still working on my story with Stanford,” Jensen answered mildly, now accepting his own beer from the barman.

“I uh, I’ve been a shit friend, man,” Jared grimaced, “I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that when we–”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Jensen interrupted. “I’m not saying I wasn’t right, but I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“How about we don’t talk about that,” Jared laughed uncomfortably, “and you fill me in about the Stanford thing instead.”

“Deal,” Jensen laughed, tapping his drink against Jared in accord.

Jensen had done a load of work for these profiles. All in all there were six students that had potentially gotten into the college unfairly – four football players, one basketball player, and one swimmer.

“And they’re from all over the country, too,” Jensen explained. “I’m trying to figure out if this was like a network sort of thing or if they were all isolated incidents. It makes you wonder how long this sort of thing has been going on for, too. Like are we only just finding out about something that’s always happened, or was it a new idea that’s just massively backfired in a super public way.”

“I’ve certainly never heard of parents helping their kids cheat into school,” Jared mused. “Bribing the school maybe, like with donations or some shit, but actually paying people to take the SATs for their kids?”

“Yeah, it’s weird, right?” Jensen nodded, flipping through his notes. “And now the problem the schools are having is figuring out if the kids were in on it, and if they weren’t, what do they do? Let them stay or kick them out?”

“Yeah, that’s a tough one,” Jared agreed.

“There’s two kids at Stanford, the swimming girl and one of the football players, that I’m positive had no idea what their parents did. When I spoke to them they were so cut up about it, they really thought they’d gotten in on their own merits. Neither of them had fantastic grades but they thought their athletics got them in, not their parents faking their tests for them.”

“That fuckin’ sucks.”

“I know man,” Jensen sighed heavily. “The funny thing is, those two are both from D.C. They went to different private schools, and they didn’t know each other, but I’m looking into whether or not their parents are connected at all. From what I’ve been able to dig up it looks like the same service, or whatever you wanna call it, rigged their scores. Makes you wonder just how deep the whole operation goes.”

“Too bad Mrs. Powalski wasn’t in on it, she coulda faked me into college,’ Jared joked, and Jensen laughed.

“That old crone spent way too much money on cleaning products to be able to afford the kind of bribes these parents are paying,” Jensen scoffed. “Plus, if you’d gone to college, we wouldn’t have such top class cinema like Taking A Chance about to come to a theatre near you,” he grinned, and Jared gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes.

“You’re done filming now, right?”

“Yeah, we finished last night,” Jared nodded.

“Got any plans for what you’ll do next?” Jensen asked curiously, and Jared shook his head.

“I’ll have the PR stuff for this to keep me going for a bit, but I’m sure Cassie will have some stuff lined up for me when we get back to L.A.” Jared drained the last of his beer.

“Want to get another one?” Jensen asked, already getting up, but Jared stopped him.

“No, I still need to drive back.” He still felt a little keyed up though, and if he couldn’t have another drink… “Would you judge me massively if I went and bummed a cigarette off someone outside?” Jared shot his friend a guilty smile, and Jensen frowned.

“Yes,” he nodded seriously, but then softened a little, “but I’m also not gonna ditch you.”

Jared smiled gratefully and walked outside with Jensen. Luckily, there was an old guy outside already with a full packet of smokes, and he was happy to share.

“You know, smoking’s bad for you son,” he smiled sagely as he lit Jared up, and Jared laughed.

“If I make it to your age, I’ll be happy,” Jared laughed, and so did the old man.

“Happiness is all we can ask for, I suppose,” he smiled and tucked his lighter back into the breast pocket of his suit.

“Thanks,” Jared raised the cigarette in salute, and turned back to Jensen, being careful to exhale the smoke in the opposite direction of his friend.

“So, uh, Y/N/N asked me to come to your wrap party with her,” Jensen admitted nervously, and Jared looked up at him, startled. “I figured you should know, but, it’s just as friends, yeah?”

“Sure,” Jared nodded, processing the new information slowly. “I'm glad she’ll have a friend there, actually, I probably have to hang out with Quinn and the rest of the cast most of the night.”

“Yeah, I’ve uh, I’ve seen some stuff online,” Jensen hedged, looking for Jared to take him up on the hint. He didn’t. “You and Quinn seem to be spending a lot of time together,” he pressed on and Jared scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Have we?” he answered evasively.

“Y/N/N mentioned it too,” Jensen stuck his hands in his pockets and crushed a stray cigarette butt under his boot, before looking back up at Jared, who was remaining silent. “Are you dating her, man?”

“Who?” Jared asked cheekily, and Jensen kicked his foot.

“Quinn. Are you dating Quinn?” Jensen asked gruffly.

“I–” Jared swallowed nervously. He wanted to tell Jensen the truth, he really did.

“Since when have you liked Quinn? You always said she was too Hollywood for you whenever I joked about it before,” Jensen accused mildly.

“I can change my mind,” Jared hedged.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jensen huffed. “You’ve clearly changed your mind about Y/N/N, then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jared flicked his eyes to Jensen’s face angrily.

“It means that you might not want to admit it, or talk about it, but I’m not a fucking idiot. You like her, or you did, at least. But if you want to date Quinn, you can date Quinn, it’s not my business.” Jensen shrugged, something sharp beneath the neutrality of his tone that put Jared on edge.

“No, it’s not your business,” he snapped, taking a final drag of his cigarette and snuffing it out beneath his shoe. But then he sighed heavily. “I don’t want to fight about this with you.”

“Sorry,” Jensen grimaced, “I just… I really thought I knew you better than this.”

Jared gulped. The dejected look on Jensen’s face stung. He didn’t like thinking he’d hurt his best friend, especially when Jensen was absolutely right about this whole thing. He couldn’t deal with the disappointment he saw on the man’s face.

“You know me better than anyone,” Jared sighed, leaning back against the brick wall of the bar. “That’s why you can see through all my bullshit.” Jensen looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue, and all the pent up frustration Jared had been feeling for the past few months about his fake relationship with Quinn, and his persistent feelings for his personal assistant, and his fear that Y/N/N was beginning to push him away, all came tumbling out.

Chapter 23 coming February 22nd or subscribe to my website to read up to Chapter 27!

Runaway: @maliburenee @samsgirl93 @67waywarddaughter @supernatural3002 @deans-baby-momma

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @drakelover78 @fictional-affairs @letsbys-library

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @cluz1babe @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Episode Spotlight: M*A*S*H, Season 1, Episode 17: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

Frank Burns throws his back out and applies for a Purple Heart.  Meanwhile, Hawkeye Pierce meets, and later operates on, an old friend and struggles with the decision of whether or not to send an underaged soldier home.

More than halfway through season 1, M*A*S*H wasn’t exactly killing in the ratings.  The show wasn’t quite sure of itself yet, with tons of recurring characters that would end up dropped and other characters not yet added to the main cast.  Airing at eight o’clock on Sunday nights, M*A*S*H was, at this stage in the game, a relatively normal sitcom, albeit one with a bit sharper sense of humor.

That all changed with Sometimes You Hear the Bullet.

I’ll show you what I mean.

The episode starts humorously enough: Major Frank Burns throws his back out during a rendezvous with Major Houlihan.  He is placed into traction, where he applies for a Purple Heart for his ‘injury’.  Meanwhile, Hawkeye is visited by an old friend and kindred irreverent spirit: Corporal Tommy Gillis, a journalist who signed up for the front lines as he writes his book: You Never Hear the Bullet, a book meant to be written from a soldier’s point of view, instead of a reporter’s.

A helicopter full of wounded arrive at the unit, and Gillis returns to his post.

Among the wounded is a young man with a burst appendix, a Private Wendell Petersen, who is very anxious to get back to the front lines.  Hawkeye tells him that he has to rest for a few days before returning to his unit.  This doesn’t stop Wendell from attempting to steal an army jeep to try to get back, afraid that he was going to be sent home.

After talking with him, Hawkeye figures out the truth: Wendell Petersen is actually Walter Peterson, and he’s not even sixteen years old.

It turns out that Walter posed as his brother, Wendell, and entered the war to impress his girlfriend back home by returning with a medal.  He begs Hawkeye to keep his secret, and, after returning him to his bed, Hawkeye agrees.

Shortly, more wounded arrive, and among them is Tommy Gillis.  Hawkeye operates on him, but even his best is not enough, and he dies on the operating table after telling Hawkeye that he did hear the bullet.  Hawkeye tries to revive him, but Colonel Henry Blake orders him to move on to save another life.

Afterwards, Hawkeye breaks down crying.

“Henry, I know why I’m crying now. Tommy was my friend, and I watched him die, and I’m crying. I’ve watched guys die almost every day. Why didn’t I ever cry for them?”

“Because you’re a doctor.”

Hawkeye asks what that means, and Henry answers with one of the greatest lines in the show’s history.

“I don’t know. If I had the answer, I’d be at the Mayo Clinic. Does this place look like the Mayo Clinic? Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. And rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can’t change rule number one.”

Right then and there, Hawkeye decides to change rule number one in some small way, and calls the MPs on Private Wendell, really Walter, outing the fact that he’s underage.  Walter, outraged, tells Hawkeye that he’ll never forgive Hawkeye for the rest of his life.

Hawkeye replies: “Let’s hope it’s a long and healthy hate.”

In one final scene (one that’s usually cut from syndication), Henry Blake begins to present Frank with his Purple Heart, only to find it replaced with a purple earring, while outside, Hawkeye pins the Purple Heart on Walter to make up for turning him in, sending him home, but home a hero.

The end.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet is considered one of M*A*S*H’s best episodes for a reason.  This is an early episode, one that is regarded as a tone and trend setter for the rest of the series in terms of both storyline balance (one or two serious plotlines, one humorous), and content itself, one of the first episodes to sit down and truly explore the characters within this tragic situation.  At this moment, M*A*S*H ceased being a comedy show and became a dramedy, with one of the most memorable moments and exchanges in the show’s long history.

While this episode may seem like a standard half-hour of television, at the time, especially for this show, it was something different.  It was no longer a slapstick grittier Hogan’s Heroesque irreverent comedy about soldiers, it was a show about a group of people stuck in the middle of a war, with death all around them.  And no matter how good Hawkeye, or any of the doctors, are at their jobs, they’ll never be able to save everyone.

It’s sobering, but it’s a truth that the show had, for the first time, truly explored, and it’s that initial exploration, that glimmer of what this show was going to become, that puts this episode under so much recognition: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was the warning sign, the first moment that the writers got a handle on the show that would become a classic.

Of course, it has it’s problems.  

Not tonal ones, at least, not exactly.  Throughout its entire run, M*A*S*H often had two or three plots going, one serious, one humorous.  This is a smart strategy: balance out the dark with the light, giving each episode a more even feeling instead of being too much one or the other.  Although the show would get darker and more serious as time went on, the writers never abandoned this plan, allowing M*A*S*H to remain a consistent dramedy throughout the show’s run, keeping the audience laughing and crying at the same time.

In the case of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, the ‘funny’ subplot is obvious: Frank Burns and his Purple Heart.  The other two storylines are the serious ones: Hawkeye’s friend, as well as the underaged soldier.  However, in most cases, as in this one, these plotlines inevitably intersect, and it’s here that this particular episode might cause a few problems.

I mentioned that the final scene in the episode is typically cut from syndication: the sequence where Frank’s purple heart is stolen and given to the underaged soldier, instead.  While this scene may not, at first, seem inherently out of place within the context of the rest of the episode, swinging from comedy to drama within a minute, there are those who believe that this scene unintentionally undermines the rest of the episode, or the main thrust established a few moments earlier.

And those people aren’t exactly wrong.

I certainly agree that the episode would have been stronger had it ended with the soldier’s final interaction with Hawkeye been proclaiming his hatred, only for Hawkeye to soberly respond that he hopes it’s a long and healthy hate.  Changing that to this new ending, where Hawkeye sends him home with a medal, seems almost out of character for Hawkeye, taking away some of the sincerity and severity of the message just a moment earlier.  The idea that this soldier could bring himself to forgive Hawkeye so soon, before realizing what exactly he’d been saved from, seems a little disingenuous after the weight previously given to this subplot.

In later episodes, it’s possible, even probable that this episode wouldn’t have ended tied in such a neat bow.  But that’s one of the things that’s so interesting about this episode.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet isn’t the first episode of ‘true’ M*A*S*H as it would be remembered in the future, but it is the first episode where M*A*S*H comes into its own themes, looking hard at war, and the toll it takes not only on the soldiers, but on the surgeons, as well.  Before this, for the most part, ‘characters’, friends of the cast, did not die on the operating table.  Not when Hawkeye could save him.

But I’m going to quote Hawkeye from another season 1 M*A*S*H episode, Yankee Doodle Doctor, as I think that it sums up this the point of this episode pretty well:

“Three hours ago, this man was in a battle. Two hours ago, we operated on him. He’s got a 50-50 chance. We win some, we lose some. That’s what it’s all about. No promises. No guaranteed survival. No saints in surgical garb. Our willingness, our experience, our technique are not enough. Guns, and bombs, and anti-personnel mines have more power to take life than we have to preserve it. Not a very happy ending for a movie. But then, no war is a movie.”

That right there is the point of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, to the point where the doomed Tommy Gillis even references the film tropes of a young, fresh-faced kid hearing the bullet that kills him.  This is the message that Hawkeye must grapple with: he cannot save everyone.

No matter how much he knows, how good he is, he can never save everyone.  No guaranteed survival.

It’s sobering, but it’s the truth.  And it’s what makes this episode so memorable.

M*A*S*H at this point was still mostly a comedy, a series full of jokes and the occasional serious moment, and it would continue to be so for another few years.  But it was this episode, episode seventeen of the first season, that signaled to audiences that this show could be more than that.  It could make you laugh, sure, but it could make you cry, and it wasn’t that surprising: this was war.

In short: by itself, is Sometimes You Hear the Bullet one of the greatest episodes of television, or even M*A*S*H, ever written?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But what it is, without much doubt, is the first sign of maturity in a show that had a lot of growing up to do.

Whether the shift was instantaneous or not, the fact is, Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was a game changer in the show’s history, the first break in format that truly showed audiences what they could expect in the years ahead.

On top of that?  It’s just a good episode.

The plot balance is decent, without too much mood-whiplash that could so easily occur in a war dramedy.  The characters, decently familiar to audiences by now, all work off of each other just as well as ever, funny, interesting, and heartfelt in turn.  It’s an example of early M*A*S*H at it’s best, overshadowing many first season episodes with a level of depth previously mostly unexplored, delivering on every scene and remaining mostly genuine.  It’s an engaging episode, full of memorable moments that are thoughtful and earnest, making this episode a standout, a moment in television history, and an unmissable installment for avid watchers of M*A*SH, and television fans in general.

Don’t forget that the comment box is always open for anything from suggestions and discussion ideas to questions and conversations!  Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope to see you guys in the next article.

[sometimesiwrite]

Just a Scratch

B I N G O ! 

Prompt: It’s Just a Scratch

Pairing: Lambert/Aiden; Eskel & Lambden; Implied Geralt/Eskel 

Rating: Teen 

Summary: Lambert and Aiden are moving to start the next leg of their adventure together. Eskel sees them off.

Warnings: Modern AU; bittersweet; friends leaving; implied COVID distancing A/N: For Ben & Jemma

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo @continentcakeshop @morethangeraskier​

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33145900

“All set?” Eskel asked, squishing in one final duffel bag into the footwell and backing himself out of the rear door of Aiden’s VW Golf. Anya, Lambert and Aiden's husky mix, dozed sleepily in the back seat despite the excitement, having been rudely awoken at 6:30am to confusedly do her business.

“That’s it,” Aiden shrugged, letting the trunk close with a dull, satisfying thud. He opened his arms questioningly, and Eskel wasted no time pulling him into an affectionate squeeze, touching his hand to the back of Aiden’s head before pulling away. 

“You take care of yourself. Let me know when you make your first stop, alright? Anything goes wrong, just let me know.” 

“We’ll call you from the hotel,” Aiden reassured as he flipped the car keys over his finger.

“I still say we can make it to Port Hope by the end of the day if we push it.” Lambert was tucked under the hood, giving the car one final check for fluid levels (tyre pressure had already been meticulously checked earlier that morning).

Aiden tilted his head, “That’s if you drive and unfortunately the highway patrol doesn’t care about fuel efficiency if you’re going ten over the speed limit.” He ambled his way over behind Lambert to get a cheeky eye-full of his favourite view, “Besides, I need you to put that sexy brain of yours to work for navigation.”

“Oi! Gerroff!” Lambert protested and Aiden backed away, but not before getting in a perfectly resonant smack. “If you had it your way, you horny old bastard, we’d be stopping every two hours to—”

 Eskel pointedly cleared his throat, scratching his head as he met Aiden’s eyes with a mixture of amused pride and endearing awkwardness that Aiden had so quickly grown to love. He would miss Eskel. They'd gotten close over the last five years, close enough that they had become friends of their own—each keeping the other company when Lambert or Geralt was out of town, planning surprises... 

Aiden's proposal had gone perfectly, their crowning achievement of mutual scheming. Lambert didn't even try to deny the fact that he'd cried like a baby—candles, dusk, his favourite hiking trail, champaign. Even Anya had behaved herself. That is, until she decided her owners had been embracing for too long and not paying nearly enough attention to her. Eskel had offered to edit that part out of the video, but Lambert insisted on keeping it in—"What's a special moment without our favourite dingus. Isn't that right, Anya? Are you a dingus? Yes! Yes you are!" 

“Not gonna miss us at all, are ya, big guy?” The hood latched heavily as Lambert wiped his hands and stowed the oil rag in the passenger's side door next to the Stanadyne.

"You kiddin'? I'm gonna miss you like hell. C'mere." Eskel wrapped Lambert in a bear bug that nearly crushed his goddamn ribs. 

"Easy, Eskel, Jesus I gotta breathe!" 

"Sorry," Eskel eased off, but he didn't let go. There hadn't been enough hugs in the last year. The last few months had barely made up for it, and now there would be far fewer. More dinners over Skype, more sporadic phone calls, occasional texts... watching his and Aiden's life unfold over Instagram and Facebook. But at least they would be happy, Eskel told himself. At least they were starting the next stage of their lives together with an adventure they'd remember forever. This was important for them. And yet the chill, damp fog of isolation was already creeping in around Eskel. Even as he held Lambert close to him and swallowed tears he'd save for later. 

One final squeeze and a pat on the back, and Lambert turned to get in the car, tossing a treat to Anya as he settled in. Aiden gave Eskel a final peck on the cheek, "Take care of yourself, alright? Don't be a stranger. Call, text, whatever. We're always happy to hear from you. Promise?"

Eskel nodded soberly, "I will. Thanks, Aiden." 

"We'll skype when we get to the new place. I want you to see it before it gets cluttered with boxes. We could even do dinner or—"

Eskel waved a hand, "We'll figure something out. Just get there in one piece, and send pictures. I'm not worried." 

Aiden smiled warmly, "Good. Good." A heavy exhale, "Alright, well..." 

"I hate to interrupt the bleeding hearts moment, but we've got commuter traffic piling up on the 606 as we speak! Get your gorgeous butt in the car, we gotta move!"

Aiden took a beat, "Yes dear!" 

"Okay, Anya! You be good!" Eskel gave the chocolate-and-caramel pup one last scritch behind the ears and closed the rear door just in time for the stereo to start playing Journey.

The car rolled down the driveway and Eskel watched until it disappeared over the hill past the stop sign. When the gravelly diesel purr was finally drowned out by late summer cicadas, Eskel sat heavily on the front steps with his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to open the door and go back inside. Something about the stark emptiness of a home previously occupied with guests made the aimless silence too loud. Besides, robins and cardinals were better than daytime tv for company. Finally, Eskel rested his forehead against his thumbs and let the wave of emotion breach the dam.

Shedding tears was something Eskel usually associated with significant pain—rage, grief, remorse, indignation—an open wound that took time and tending to heal. This wasn't like that, though. This was a scratch. Simple, uncomplicated pain: he was sad. Eskel couldn't remember the last time he'd cried because he was just... sad. Decades ago, he imagined, though he couldn't pinpoint a specific moment. It was something children did before emotions became more complicated. But here he was, sitting on his front steps, crying because he was sad. Eyes streaming, hot and wet down his cheeks because his friends were leaving. Just a scratch.

He felt silly, crying over something so inconsequential— and a man as touch-needy as Eskel, bearlike as he was, was left with the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a rather long time.

It's not that they didn't have friends, of course, and he would talk to them later that night. He was helping to plan their wedding for chrissake, it's not like they would never speak again. But proximity to other people was something that had grown increasingly scarce, and Eskel—bearlike as he was—had the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a while. 

Lambert and Aiden had an uncomplicated relationship with affection that always freed Eskel from the burden of second-guessing the odd touch to a shoulder or elbow. So many others had different personal spaces, many of which had expanded recently. Eskel was happy to respect, and accommodate, but Eskel always felt most himself when he could be affectionate with the people he cared about, and with those two gone, it suddenly felt as though a part of his identity was being forced back into shadow and shyness.

Eskel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he sniffed loudly before answering. "Yup? Geralt, hi. Yeah, they just-just left. I'm ok-I'm okay. You know. Goodbyes are never easy. How's the conference? Heh. Good, good. Tell him I send my regards... Listen, I should get to work. No, I’m okay, I'll call you later... Will do. I l— I love you, too, hon. Buh-bye.” 

Eskel hung up the phone and stared quietly at the bird feeder for a few more minutes before going back inside, feeling as though something in the cosmos had shifted. 

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 13

AO3 :: Previously

TW: Violence

They enjoy each other one more time in the shower the next morning, Jamie taking her carefully from behind; he breathes, “I feel like God himself when I’m inside ye,” into her ear, while Claire laughs and gasps in equal measure as her hands scrabble helplessly against the slick tile wall.

Blissfully sated, they lounge about in hotel robes, devouring room service fare which Jamie charges to his own room. They talk of everything and nothing: movies, art, books, hobbies, happy memories from their childhood, favorite foods, anything but the upcoming investigation. Jamie and Claire crave normalcy, taking advantage of their idyllic London respite—pretending, Claire thinks; lying to himself, Jamie feels.

Real life comes roaring back when Jamie’s phone rings with an unknown London number.

“Hello?”

“Fraser, it’s John Grey from SCD.”

Something lurches in Jamie’s chest. Although he knows Murtagh has been in communication with Grey, the man has never contacted him directly, all parties involved deeming it too risky, should Jamie’s phone be intervened.

“How did ye—”

“Your uncle, of course. This is a secure line, don’t worry. I’m calling about Randall.”

Claire can barely hear the other voice on the phone, but Frank’s surname comes through clear as day. Jamie gestures for her to come closer, and says, “John, I’m putting ye on speaker.”

“Who else is there?” Grey immediately asks. “I don’t think—”

“It’s Randall’s ex-wife. She’s the one who set up the meeting.”

“Chief Grey, this is Claire Beauchamp.” There is a pause on either side. “What did Frank say?

“Well.” Grey gathers himself to continue. “He does move fast. We’ve been contacted by specialists tracking possible offshore accounts. We’re quite overworked at the department as it is, and Randall is proving a powerful ally.”

Jamie is relieved to hear this. It seems as though an end to all this fucked up situation is within sight. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but it’s hard not to do so, especially with Claire at his side.

John Grey prattles on about dates and documents, and urges them to maintain as low a profile as possible, particularly Jamie. Claire climbs off the bed, and while Jamie continues to listen to John, she begins to get dressed and pack her bag. Apparently, their carefree time together is up.

The return train trip goes by faster than she would have liked. Back in Glasgow, Jamie heads off to the Leoch building and Claire returns to her flat—as if they’d never spent time together, or declared their love for each other. It saddens her, but knows it’s necessary, at least for a while. While she sorts out next week’s hospital schedule, Geillis pesters her for details about the trip.

“So, did ye sleep together?”

“G, come on.” Claire waves her away, waiting for Mrs. Baird to check the logs.

“Ye’re not fooling me, ye ken, wi’ yer separate rooms nonsense. I can tell from a mile off that ye certainly had yer fun in London.”

“If you know, why are you even asking then?” Claire says exasperatedly. “We met with Frank, too. He agreed to help. Now we wait.”

“Och, Jesus,” Geillis says soberly. “I hope things work out for ye two, ye ken that, love.”

“I know.” Claire hugs her with one arm. “Even if you’re a nosy witch.”

X-x-X

“Jamie, the Mackenzie want to see you upstairs.” Louise pokes her head into his office, her faint French accent breaking into his reverie. His mind registers the request from his uncles and something in his wame sinks and rises with dread.

Jamie walks slowly to the elevator bank and swipes his ID card; he’s one of the few authorized for the meteoric rise to the penthouse office in the building. The doors open directly into a lavish sitting room; the first thing he notices is the spectacular view of the Glasgow sunset, clear of clouds and mist. The second is his uncles, Dougal standing by a massive desk and Colum, sitting in a comfortable-looking chair. His legs are hidden beneath a plaid blanket.

“Nephew. A dram?” Dougal’s deep brogue rumbles through the room. He gestures to a corner of the room and Jamie sees Angus Mohr, the MacKenzie strongman and mercenary, poised by the liquor cabinet. Jamie’s unease grows exponentially.

“No, Uncle, thank ye.”

“Ye might change yer mind, lad.” Dougal nods and Angus brings over a cut-crystal tumbler of darkly aged whisky. Colum remains impassive as Jamie sips the drink slowly.

“Why am I here?” Jamie asks finally, unable to bear the suspense. Dougal raises both bushy eyebrows, but defers to his brother.

“Your London trip. We ken all about her,” Colum states, and Jamie’s stomach flips. He thinks he might vomit as Colum goes on. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, doctor, daughter to Henry and Julia Beauchamp, now deceased. Studied at Oxford. Need I go on?”

“No.” Jamie’s voice is strangled. Do they also know what they were doing in London? He doesn’t speak another word and his uncles glare at him.

“We gather yer inconvenient… condition… is no more?” Dougal asks, in a tone that indicates an affirmation, not a question.

“Uncle, ‘tis only—”

“A lie. O’ course. Ye forfeit yer duty to family to pursue a woman, this hoor—”

“Ye willna speak of her that way!” Jamie explodes, unable to contain himself any longer and terrified for Claire. He is torn between defending her and distancing himself from her to protect her.

“Nor will ye be seeing more of her, Jamie.” Colum nods in Angus’s direction and the burly man steps forward. He is holding a ball-peen hammer, thumbing lightly at the bright silver head.

“We will, of course, be speaking wi’ Laoghaire. Ye ken yer duty, and so does she. This will be a reminder to fulfill it, and for ye to think twice before betraying family.” Dougal marches towards Jamie and pulls him from the chair by the back of his shirt.

His natural instincts are to resist, but to no avail. Between the two of them, they drag Jamie over to the enormous stone fireplace. There is no fire in the grate, so they step quite close. His left hand is yanked onto the edge of the mantel, and held there fast in Dougal’s iron grip. Jamie’s head swims with thoughts of her, his brown-haired lass, as Angus swings the hammer down mercilessly and he screams.  

Jamie cradles his hand to his chest, bleeding all over himself. In the thrall of the excruciating pain of his mangled pinky and ring fingers, he does not notice anything at all: not the elevator ride down to the parking garage, nor being shoved into a black car. Only until he is tossed out on the curb does he realize it’s Queen Elizabeth University Hospital.

[fablesrose]

Tell Me a Story 3

Summary: It’s go time

Word count: 2,188

Pairing: cop?!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: Crack

Warnings: shooting

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

A/n: For @girl-next-door-writes​ make me feel bingo. This only has a little bit of crack, but it was sure fun to write! One more part after this!

“Hey Angel.”

“Hey Hot Shot,” I smiled as I held my phone to my ear, the nicknames had settled in for us over the past couple of weeks, and I couldn’t deny that I liked using them. “The next monthly meeting is tonight, you ready to put on a show?”

He laughed, “Like it’s ever an act with you sweetheart.”

I snorted, “Yeah, sure.” I sighed, “Alright, for real though, be a loving boyfriend, but don’t be stupid.”

“Roger roger.”

“I guess I’ll meet you there.”

“Yup.” He hung up the phone promptly, leaving me in silence.

I rubbed my hands all over my face, “He’s a professional who’s only acting this way to make it natural and so he can get some sort of promotion. Don’t look too far into it. You’re probably going to go to prison anyway once this is all over with.” Despite telling myself this over and over, it really didn’t make a difference. I groaned and tried to force my face to relax from the smile I was wearing.

I banged my head once against a nearby wall, “Okay, time to get ready to get this over with.”

Before I knew it I was watching Dean pull up and park near my apartment as I walked to the meeting building.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your car?”

“Only every time you see her,” Dean fell into stride beside me.

“I thought we were gonna meet there.”

Dean grabbed my hand, “And how would that look, the boyfriend not escorting his very important girlfriend into an extremely dangerous crowd?”

“Fair point,” I squeezed his hand, smiling softly to myself.

The door squeaked as we opened it, giggling at nothing.

“Glad you love birds could join us.” Chuck sat at the front of the room, looking rather impatient.

I took my place, Dean beside me, and nodded soberly.

“Let’s begin.”

Naomi stepped forward, “Of course, sir. I have some things that need to be looked-”

“I don’t care about that,” Chuck waved his hand as he cut her off.

It took everything in me not to laugh.

“Some of my… sources, have told me that Doctor Hess wants to make a deal with me.”

There was a couple beats of silence before Meg got brave, “Uh, and who is that?”

“The leader of the Lettermen, obviously.”

The room erupted in laughter.

“Letterboys? Really?”

“Yes,” Chuck snapped at us, trying to shut us up, “and Y/n is going to set it all up.”

That sobered me up quickly, “Pardon?”

“You are going to set up the deal. You’re gonna be our middle man.”

I felt my insides shrivel. What he means is that I’ll be the scapegoat.

“Sir, I’d like to accompany her on this assignment if you don’t mind,” Dean said as he took a half step forward.

“I do mind. Starling will be working this alone, directly with me.”

“But sir-”

I placed a hand on his arm, “Dean.” I shook my head, telling him it wasn’t worth it.

He set his jaw and didn’t press any further.

“So, It’s settled then,” Chuck clapped his hands together once, “that’ll be all, you’re dismissed.”

I glanced at Naomi who looked annoyed at not getting her business done, but she wasn’t brave enough to get snapped at again.

It wasn’t much time later when me and Dean were walking back, alone again.

“Why did you do that?”

“Dean-”

“Why did you stop me from pairing up with you?”

“Because, you were doing a great job at being a loving boyfriend, but I also told you not to be stupid. What you were about to do was incredibly stupid.”

“So you’re gonna do it alone?!” Dean sounded angry, I wasn’t exactly sure why.

I turned to face him, “Yeah, I am! I’ve done stuff like this before, and I’ll have to do it again! But do you understand what this means for us??”

“No, I don’t.”

I grabbed him by the shoulders, “We can do something with this… Maybe I can…”

“We can do some sort of sting operation,” Dean quieted down like he was understanding.

“Exactly! I’ll set something up, I’ll feed you all the information...” I nodded my head, “we can do this.”

“Fine,” he turned and started walking again, “you’re still going to be doing most of this alone though.”

“Don’t worry Dean, I won’t mess it up.”

I thought I heard Dean mumble something, but I didn’t ask what it was. The rest of the walk was quiet until we reached where his car was parked.

I ran my hand along her, looking for scratches that didn’t exist.

“Stay safe, alright? I can’t be losing you now, Angel.”

“I will, don’t you worry Hot Shot.” I smiled at waved as he started her up and drove away.

Let’s cut to me probably doing something stupid, but it is the fastest way to get stuff done in these situations.

“I think you’re on the wrong side of town, ma’am.” A group of boys approached me as I walked a quiet street, deep in Lettermen territory.

I sighed, “You’re probably right, but I also heard through the grapevine that a Doctor Hess wants to make a deal. That ring any bells?”

They all glanced at each other before one addressed me, “Stay here.”

I leaned against a nearby building, choosing not to answer him vocally.

After a while, a man closer to my own age approached me.

“Doctor Hess?”

He laughed, “No, my name is Mick Davies. I’m more of a spokesperson. And I’m assuming you’re not Chuck.”

I smiled back at him, both of us keeping our distance, “Yeah, you wish. It’s Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

His smile dropped into a more serious expression, “You are correct when you mentioned a deal. Details are still in need of some finalizing, of course, but the basics are, if you share with us some of your… resources that we hear you have, helping us get on our feet, we’ll give you a part of the profits and keep our boys on our side of the line.”

“Intriguing...” This could be big. If I played my cards right, I could maybe bring down the mobs on both sides of the city. Now to play some cards… “If we come to an agreement of terms, Chuck wants a face to face settlement to seal the deal.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” He pulled out a card from his pocket, “My contact information, so we can work out the details before the deal.”

I stepped forward and took it, “Well, it’s been a pleasure, hope I see the least amount possible.”

“Likewise.”

And like that we both turned and went out opposite directions.

That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe this will be easy.

But now to convince Chuck.

“They want the sealing of the deal face to face or it won’t happen.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe this will be easy.

Now to tell Dean the good news!

“Dean, call me back.”

“Dean, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Hot Shot, if you don’t answer this damn phone I swear I’m not going put this meeting up.”

Why was this not easy.

The meeting was set. It was to happen in an isolated location just outside of town, two weeks away. Chuck was going to bring the goods, loads of weapons and drugs. I had to be there to back Chuck up, as I’m sure Mick would be there to do the same for this Doctor Hess.

“Dean, I sent the information to your phone, please be there with as many men as possible. From your old job, just to be safe.”

I wanted to actually talk to him. I shouldn’t want that. I’ve gotten too close. It doesn’t matter anymore though. He’s stopped talking to me mid job. The worst case scenario is that I somehow get found out and killed. The absolute best case scenario is that everyone goes to jail except me. The one I was fearing most though was the one where I never see Dean again. Unfortunately there were a bunch of options where that happens.

I kept telling myself that it was just a job to him. That this would benefit him. That he would never want to associate with someone from the mafia in normal circumstances.

Maybe going to jail would be good for me.

My phone rang with an unknown number popping up on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey Angel, sorry, I broke my phone.”

“God dammit!” All that worrying for nothing. All the stress that he was somehow dead or leaving me to deal with Chuck by myself. Wasted.

“What?”

“I have been trying to reach you all day. I got the meeting set up, its in two weeks. I’ll send you the place. Both Chuck and Doctor Hess are going to be there with a metric ton of damning evidence in the form of illegal weapons and drugs.”

“That… is awesome!”

“I know right?? I’m gonna need you to bring in all your people.” I soaked it in for a couple of breathes, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he’s arrested.”

“You’re not going to be there.” His voice was firm, it was commanding like there was no room for argument.

“Dean...” I spoke regretfully, oh how I wish I could listen to him, “if I’m not there, this all falls apart. This isn’t a personal choice, I have to be there.”

“You could get hurt.”

“Same with every day of my life.”

He sighed, “Fine, but you’re gonna wear a wire so we can communicate.”

“Dean, Chuck may be stupid enough to let you in as a cop, and he may be stupid enough to do this meeting face to face, but he’s not stupid enough-” I paused, “I take that back, he may be that stupid.”

“So it’s settled, you’re going to wear a wire, and I’m gonna bring in all the law enforcement fire power you could ever dream of.”

I laughed, “Deal.”

The meeting came all too quickly. I was wearing a wire, like Dean asked me, but I did not enjoy it, it seemed to be all that was on my mind. Everyone arrived separately. It was decided that I would arrive first and scout out the area, kicking out any lurkers. Then Mick was to show, then the bosses.

Dean was talking in my ear, telling me that they were ready, that anytime now Chuck and Doctor Hess was going to be arrested.

“The profits of the supplies will be split 70/30 right?” Chuck was chatting with Doctor Hess, me and Mick farther out.

Hess huffed, “That’s hardly enough to cover our other expenses, 50/50 split.”

“Come on Doc, there has to be something in it for me, 60/40.”

Her stare was withering, but Chuck was always an idiot, “Fine.”

They shook on it and Chuck directed her to the product a little ways away.

“Chopper is coming in to get eyes, then we’ll fall in,” Dean said.

I hummed discretely to tell him I heard and started to glance around the dark sky, supposedly looking for stars.

Eventually the helicopter flew in with a spotlight shining down on us.

“Finally,” I spoke out loud, glad this was going to be over.

But I might have spoken a bit too loudly since Chuck pulled out a gun, “You bitch!”

I faced him, my arms crossed against my chest, “Been called a lot worse you motherfucker.”

“FBI! Drop the weapon!” Dean was at the front of the group in an FBI vest, aiming his gun at Chuck. The rest of the agents surrounded the area and quickly started arresting Hess and Mick.

Chuck hesitated, but in the end he shot at me. I tried to move quickly but he still grazed my shoulder. Chuck looked like he wanted to shoot me again, but Dean took two shots before he could, one to the hand holding the gun and another to his leg, effectively making him drop the gun and fall to the ground. Dean directed a couple of agents to Chuck while he ran over to me.

“Man, you really are a hot shot Hot Shot.” I laughed as I pressed a hand against my shoulder.

“I can’t believe you just stood there as Chuck aimed a gun at you. That is so dangerous,” he made sure I was comfortable before he called for a medic.

“Chuck isn’t that great with precision weapons, look, he just grazed me!” I laid my clean hand on his arm, “Thank you. This means so much to me, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

The medics came and started to push Dean back so she could get to me.

“You helped get Sam out, how ‘bout we stay in touch and we’ll call it even?”

I nodded, “You got it Hot Shot.”

“They’ll take good care of you, Angel.”

Best Buds: @kitkatd7​ @snarky--starky​ @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog ​ @kaogasm​

Dean: @akshi8278​ @msmarvelouswinchester

TMAS: @flamencodiva

[rjhpandapaws]

Strictly Professional Feelings

Ch 1: Midlife Change of Pace

There was a list of things Hank assumed he would do once his midlife crisis hit; going back to working a desk job wasn’t one of them. Cole had left for university and the empty house was starting to get to him. A bad case with the DPD a few years back had sent him into an early retirement and now that Cole was out of the house boredom was starting to set in. Not quite the best word for it, but it was the one he chose to use. It sounded better than stir crazy. He had applied to a few places, he needed something to keep him busy that wouldn’t fuck with his injuries. Arkait Medical Enterprises had been the one to respond. It was an office job in the business division, the pay was good and he would have full benefits. It wasn’t too far from the house which was an added bonus, less of his paycheck would be going into his gas tank. He hadn’t worked an office job since his college days, but he was relatively sure the biggest changes would be in the computers themselves. He was probably working for some guy his age that had gotten a lucky break. He would be surrounded by people in their thirties, maybe their forties, but he wouldn’t get his hopes up for that. The usual pecking order was probably still in place, so he would probably be the coffee runner until some unlucky intern was added to the team. He started work on Monday, so he had four days to figure out if he had office clothes. Perks of being a plain clothes detective he supposed.

Four days turned out not to be as much time as he had hoped. He went shopping and bought a few shirts that weren’t as loud as his usual choices and dark jeans. There was no amount of money that could get him into a pair of slacks. Sunday night he did what he could to calm his nerves, short of drinking of course, he didn’t want to be hungover at work tomorrow. Soberly calming his nerves amounted to relaxing with Sumo on the couch. He didn’t normally let the massive dog up on the couch, but tonight was an exception. Monday found him awake before his alarm. He knew he wouldn’t be getting a back to sleep so he rolled out of bade to start the coffee machine and then shower. The one nice thing about Cole being away at university was that he didn’t have to mind his volume all that much. There was no one else here to wake up. Hank took a quick a shower and then got dressed. He decided on glasses since he would be staring at a computer all day and tied his hair back in a loose ponytail to keep it out of his face. he scrolled through the news on his phone while he drank his coffee. He fed Sumo and then left a little earlier than he probably needed to but he wanted to miss the worst of the traffic. This was Detroit after all. The one thing you could count on was that there was going to be traffic, you either left early enough to miss it or you were going to be late. Hank was hoping for the former.

He made it to the office early enough to find a decent place to park. He got out and headed for the building, he had a guest code to use for today. He had a meeting with someone named Connor to get his ID card and such today then he’d be able to work. He has prior office experience, so it would only be a matter of learning his way around the programs they used. That shouldn’t take long, he wasn’t the best with technology, but he was a quick learner. He stepped inside and Stephanie, the receptionist from his interview day waved at him, “It’s good to see you again Hank. Mr. Arkait is in his office on the seventeenth floor. he should be ready for you, so head on up. Have a good day.” “You too Stephanie.” She waved to him as he headed for the bank of elevators. He wondered what Mr. Arkait was like. Those business types tended to be snobbish, or if they were younger, a bit odd. He hit the up button and waited. he supposed he would rather someone like Elijah Kamski, eccentric and somewhat self absorbed, but oddly pleasant. The elevator to his left was the one that opened he walked inside and hit the button for the seventeenth floor. He was on his own until the sixth floor when he was joined by a green eyed brunette who looked like he hadn’t slept a day in his life. He was in business clothes under a hoodie that had seen better days. He hit the button for the eleventh floor.

“You up to see Connor?” The man asked gruffly, “Tell him that twin brother of his is an asshole.” Hank raised an eyebrow but nodded, “If I get the chance I will.” He said with absolutely no intent to do so, “Who should I say is sending the message?” “He’ll know.” The man gruffed again before going quiet and scrolling through his phone. Hank leaned against the wall and did the same. He had no plans of giving Connor the message, he didn’t want to lose his job on the first day of it. Silence floated in the elevator until it chimed for the stranger’s floor. He left without a word and Hank was on his own for the rest of the ride. The elevator chimed for his floor and he put his phone away before he stepped out. He was in a hallway, to the right of him was a conference with glass walls, and on his right was a standard wall with a couple of unmarked doors and your usual scenery paintings. He continued down the hall, he was looking for an office and so far he hadn’t come across one yet. At the end of the hall he found what he was looking for. A closed door with Connor Arkait in plain white script on the outside. This was what he was looking for so he raised his hand and knocked firmly three times.

Hank had assumed ha knew what would be waiting for him on the other side of the door. The bright eyed, curly haired thirty something wasn’t what he had in mind. He was pretty attractive and Hank hadn’t been ready for that. He smiled pleasantly and beckoned him inside, Hank followed without giving it much thought. He was talking on the phone. “Look, Silas, I’ll try and talk to Gavin about not drinking so close to his computer; but your issue kind of lies with Richard. He’s the one that brings him all that coffee.” He sighed quietly, but it was very clear that it was a noise of frustration, “Hank is here, if it’s bothering you this much, you can come up when the meeting is done and we can try and figure something out.” Whatever his companion had said was satisfactory enough because he nodded and hung up before turning the rest of his attention toward Hank. He wasn’t ready to bear the the full wait of those deep brown eyes and did what he could to collect himself. “Sorry about that,” The brunette said as he held his hand out, “My name is Connor, it’s a pleasure to meet you Lieutenant.” “Just Hank is fine. My Lieutenant days are behind me now.” He said as he shook Connor’s hand. Connor gave him another friendly smile and gestured for him to take a seat. Once they were both seated Connor looked through the files on his desk until he came away with what he was looking for. A key card on a lanyard and a name tag that had a magnetic bar along the back of it. “Alright Hank.” He said as he handed them over. “These will get you into the building anytime. They both do the same things so just carry whichever one is easiest.”

Hank nodded as he took them from Connor. He stuck them in his jacket pocket for safe keeping, “Thanks.” Connor nodded and moved on, “You’re on the business office which is on the eleventh floor. You’re in an office rather than the bull pen, so hang a left once you leave the elevator. You’ll be the last door on the right.” Hank nodded along as Connor spoke, “They’ll have the name plate on your door by tomorrow. Silas should be down to help you with your computer in a half hour at most. Any questions?” Hank had a few. Mostly along the lines of how someone who couldn’t be any older than thirty-five at best was the spearhead of a medical company that was rivaled only by CyberLife; but he had the feeling Connor wouldn’t like that. He shook his head, “I’m good, thanks.” “Alright,” Connor said with a nod. “I’m just a call, email, or elevator ride away if you have any questions.” Hank nodded as he stood and made his way for the door, “Thanks for your time Connor.” “No problem Hank.” He got back to work as Hank left. He made his way back toward the bank of elevators again. He was one of three supervisors for the business floor. It would be a nice change of pace. He felt odd, he would be in charge of a group of people he hadn’t met. It didn’t feel like something he had earned, more like he had been slid into a place that wasn’t his. It  would pass soon enough.

The elevator to the far left of the bank opened up just when he was about to press the call button. Two near identical copies of Connor stepped out of it. He found it safe to assume that one of them was Silas, though Hank didn’t have enough confidence to venture a guess as to which one he was. He gave a polite nod as he passed and both of them returned it. He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the eleventh floor. He figured he could get settled in and then make introductions if he remembered. Computers tended to give him trouble. He didn’t get any company on his ride down. Once he was on the right floor he made his way to his office. He didn’t have that much in the way of things to put on his desk yet. He would bring his bonsai tree tomorrow unless he forgot, and pictures of Cole and Sumo. Just some things to make it a little more comfortable. There wasn’t much for him to do until Silas came down so he opened the messages on his phone to see if he had anything from Cole. He had received several pictures from around the campus, but not much else. He sent back a picture of his office. It was maybe fifteen minutes later when there was a series of rapid knocks at his office door. He stood stiffly, he would need to make some adjustments to that chair, and opened the door. On the other side was one of the doppelgängers from the elevator. Hank stepped out of the way so he could come in. “You’re Hank right?” The Not-Connor asked as he stepped into the elevator.

“You’re Silas I’m guessing.” He responded trying his best to keep out of the way. Silas smiled, “You’re one of the few that can tell us apart?” “I’ll be honest with you, its only because I met with Connor this morning, and he wasn’t wearing glasses.” Hank admitted, “If I were to pass any of you in the hall way I don’t think I would be able to.” Silas laughed as he made his way to the desk, “I’ll take that. Now let’s get you set up. I’ll run you through the programs if you need it, but they’re pretty similar to Microsoft.” “I think I’ll be alright then.” He said as he came to stand beside Silas. “If you need anything I am down on floor six or you can email me.” He woke up the computer and then made room for Hank at the desk, “Your username is just your work email and your temporary password is the number on the back of your nametag. Once you’re logged in feel free to change your password.” Hank nodded and signed himself in. After he had changed his password Silas gave him a quick run through of the programs, it turned out they were a little more different than he had been expecting do he appreciated the help/ Which ones did what, the ones he would use the most, and how to fix common problems. He even wrote the fixes down and put the sticky note on the bottom right corner of his monitor. “That should be everything.” Silas said as he stood up and stretched. “Thanks Silas.” He said as the brunette left. He got a wave in return.

Other than the stranger in the elevator, everyone he had met so far had seemed nice enough. It was definitely a change of pace from the station, less chaotic, and a corner office was better than retirement. It was just a matter of adjusting.

[scandalousfemale]

Ch. 4 Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Chinese!OC x Kelce

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Zombies were meant for apocalyptic movies and TV shows where one could binge watch for a day and return to their mundane life. But something happened, a lab test went wrong and suddenly the outbreak started. This story takes place exactly three weeks after zombies slowly started to take over the planet.

Series Masterlist

WC: 5,320

Warnings: Violence, a whole lot of violence. Violence involving knives and guns. It’s a zombie fic, this chapter have zombies in it! I tried my best not to get too gory but at the same time, it does kind of go there. Main character deals with PTSD. I think that’s all the warnings right now. Like I’ve mentioned before, violence. Please, do not read if you’re not comfortable with that topic.

A/N: This was a harder chapter to write because of the fighting scenes and trying to get Kaili to spend them with characters so that you as a reader can also experience these characters in this universe. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! I know that the support I get from this fic is amazing and keeps me going, thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this. Also... how do you think Kelce will feel about the end of this chapter?? 

“Fuck,” Kaili cursed. The air escaped her lungs as her body hit the ground for the second time in a minute. Rafe had dragged her out of her room at first light, telling her that for her to have breakfast, she’d have to fight her way back in. At first, she thought he was joking, surely the boy couldn’t have been serious. But the minute she laughed, her eyes still half shut from sleep, he stepped in front of her with his arms folded across of his chest.

All sleep escaped her when he pushed at her shoulders to try and knock her off her feet, which wouldn’t have been that hard to do, considering he was a whole foot taller than her and probably a hundred pounds heavier. At that point, she wiped at her face and told him that he'd lost his mind, trying to evade his grasp as she stepped sideways from him. As big and bulky as Rafe looked though, he was fast. And he was able to push her back again, causing her to fall this time. They went on like this for maybe half an hour. Until Kaili started fighting back, throwing a punch that he blocked twice. The third punch landed solidly on his cheek but it was almost like it didn’t faze him, he continued instigating her.

Of course, he wasn’t quite doing this out of pleasure, even though Kaili would beg to differ. The group of kids had promised each other that they’d train the other in what they were good at. Seeing as the situation is only going to get worse from here on out. So, training began. Kelce promised her shooting lessons, Kiara had offered her cooking lessons, Rafe offered up his fighting skills (which, when she had asked where he learned, the younger kids in the group seemed to have a couple of things to say), JJ offered lessons on how to make weapons out of practically anything. And of course, Pope had offered her a lesson on pretty much anything boy scouts related; such as how to tell which direction she was going in and how to start a fire.

She didn’t expect anyone to go easy on her, she didn’t need them to, but Rafe seemed to be the type to give tough love more than he praises. Every time she learned one step or studied his movements, like learning when to move back when he showed signs of moving forward, he’d tell her to do better. He’d always find another flaw. His reasoning was a valid one, of course. He was punishing her for almost getting JJ killed.

Rafe was adamant that if she was insistent on running into the face of danger then she should be able to hold her own. In which she reminded him, in the nicest way possible, that she did, as she pointed to her knives. But he did make a point, on the off chance that she didn’t have her blades, she’d lose. And so she found herself, in the crack of dawn, on the ground panting and hoping that she could knock Rafe off his feet just once.

“Get up,” Rafe had said harshly as he wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. His height more intimidating now as she laid on the ground, trying to catch her breath. 

“No,” she breathed out, her hand coming up over her face as she blocked the rising sun from her eyes. Suddenly in the shade, she knew he had taken a new spot over her. 

“What did you say?” Rafe grit through his teeth and she wondered if this man had ever relaxed in his life. 

“We’ve been going at this all morning!” She groaned as he gripped her forearms and yanked her up to her feet. 

“The next guy to come at you is not going to give you time to take a breather,” he reminded her.

Kaili didn’t say anything back, only narrowed her eyes at him because he was right. Again, Kaili had taken a deep breath in and quickly reached out for his arm, intending to twist it behind his back but she must’ve gotten the grip wrong because, in just two moves, he had her against his chest with her hands trapped against her chest and his arm. The scene was far too similar to the one the guy at the camp had set her up in. Without realizing it, Kaili had tensed up completely, clenching her eyes shut as she tried to block out the feeling of the man violating her.

She felt sudden darkness come over her vision, her ears ringing, and all she could think about was that she needed to get out of his hold. Suddenly, she was kicking her heel to his shin, thrashing in his arms as she threw her elbows back. Maybe she was even screaming because when she came to, Rafe had her on the floor again, one hand over her mouth as his legs pinned her arms down. She blinked the cold and dark night away, the image of that man’s blood spilling out to the floor as her blade was stuck in him. Slowly her vision was returning to Rafe’s wild eyes and his moving mouth. She couldn’t grasp what he was saying but the panic of not being able to move her arms freely was bubbling back up inside of her.

She closed her eyes again, trying to calm down before she had a complete meltdown at the immobility of her arms. That’s when she finally could focus on what Rafe was saying, he was telling her to stop. All he kept repeating was the word, “stop”. As she laid there, unmoving, she felt her wet cheeks underneath Rafe’s hands. Slowly, he moved his weight, lifting his body from her arms. She let out a sob then as she hugged her arms to her chest before quickly going up to his hands on her mouth, trying to peel him off her. 

“If you scream again, the zombies will hear you and come our way. If they haven’t already fucking heard you. Promise you’re not going to scream again,” Rafe’s tone was much less aggressive than it was throughout the whole morning.

Kaili only nodded, quickly backing away from him when he finally removed his hands. Still sitting on the ground, she had hugged her arms around herself. Embarrassed and confused at what had just happened, why she reacted that way, and why that man is living in her memories when she wanted to forget him.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe knelt in front of her, his tone apologetic and sincere. His hands carefully placed beside her so that she saw them in her line of sight but not close enough to touch. “I didn’t know— didn’t think you’d have PTSD from… whatever that happened to you,” he threaded carefully and Kaili reminded herself that he wasn’t there to see it happen. He didn’t know. “I also didn’t think you’d go fucking batshit but now I know, I won’t touch you like that again.”

Kaili just shook her head at him as she used her shirt to wipe the tears and the sweat away. Wanting to laugh at his comment and hit him in the mouth at the same time, she just leveled her eyes with him, “that guy I killed at the camp, he had me in that hold,” she explained soberly. She could tell the second that her words clicked with Rafe because apologetic and slightly annoyed turned into realization, which quickly turned into anger. He glanced at her wrists, the purple bruises that decorated it, and then back at her face. His lips pressed into a thin line before he wiped a stray tear from her face and sat down across from her if only to watch her back, as his long legs stretched out on either side of her. 

The silence between them wasn’t awkward, nor was it truly comfortable. Rafe glared at the spot between them and then released a long exhale. “I didn’t think about how that could’ve affected you before I dragged you out of bed today,” he began, still not making eye contact with her. “I was just so angry at the situation you’ve put yourself in. The one you put us in. That I made it a mission in my head that you wouldn’t put anyone in danger again by worrying about you if you just knew how to fight. I didn’t think that was how the bruises were caused.”

“It’s fine,” Kaili assured him but her voice was distant, “I didn’t even know I’d react that way. I’m sorry.”

Rafe’s hand was immediately on her knee, as his eyes met hers, “don’t apologize for how your brain deals with trauma. Trust me, I’d know. It’s not something you can control,” and it’s almost like he said it was a snarl but he was trying to be nice. Or at least Kaili believed he was. 

“How old was your cousin?” He inquired, seemingly lost in the thought that had upset him.

“She’d just turned sixteen,” the girl replied, noticing how his grip tightened for a second on her.

“Not so much older than Wheezie then.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she shook her head, “had her whole life ahead of her, you know. All it takes is one little mistake. A lapse in judgment. A second. Then it’s all over.”

“I think that’s why I’m so angry all the time,” his voice barely audible as the morning sun rose and the noises around them started to stir. She never noticed how loud everything truly sounded when she’d gotten used to the silence and company of just one other. “It’s not fair to her. She had her whole life to live and now she’s trapped in this nightmare. I’d go through it alone a hundred times if it meant she didn’t have to,” he kept his voice low, his furrowed eyebrows and angry eyes scanning behind her as he noticed the noises of the neighbors and their housemates, himself. 

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” Kaili put her hand over his, trying to comfort him but it doesn’t seem like her words or actions can get past the boy’s anger. “I’m sorry…for your sisters.”

“Yeah,” he said as he took a look at her, “and me for you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know your cousin. It sucks but I can’t say I care much about her death. But I do care about you and how it’s affected you. How it still affects you and for that, I’m sorry.”

It took a bit for Kaili to digest his words. She had to rearrange his sentence and fill in the empty areas herself as she tried not to be offended that he had just said that he didn’t care that her cousin died but also, he was right. He didn’t know her cousin. He couldn’t have known how incredible she was and how much the world was missing without her. “You’re right. You’re shit at this comforting thing.” Kaili settled on a response.

She didn’t expect to make the boy laugh, the hardness in his eyes softened if only for a moment before returning. Shaking his head as if to get a thought out, he was suddenly serious again. “You know if it ever came down to it. I’d rather die than turn into one of them.”

“Well, technically you’d already be dead.”

“No, for real, before I turned — before anyone of you even turned. I’d pull the trigger for you. I hope someone will do it for me.”

Kaili processed the request and then nodded, “I think if the time comes, which I hope it won’t, you’d have a whole group of people here that would do anything for you.”

Rafe shook his head as if he didn’t quite believe that but he didn’t comment more on it. Moving his hand from underneath hers, he stood up, pulling her up with him. “Come on,” he said as they both started towards the house again, “wouldn’t want Kelce to think we’ve fallen in love and ran away together.” He teased, as her cheeks flushed, trying not to think about what Wheezie had also said the night before about Kelce.

——-

Four days have passed since the group arrived at the house. Kaili truly only kept track of time through how much food was left in their inventory...which on the fourth day, was almost out. Even when she and a couple of others were skipping their portions to make sure that John B could eat because he was healing and Wheezie could eat because honestly, they didn’t want to hear her talk about how hungry she was.

A trip to the store was starting to feel inevitable, even though no one was volunteering to be the one who went. JJ offered the idea to raid the houses next to them but Kiara pointed out that there might still be families holed up in their houses, too afraid to leave, and it would be unfair to strip them of their hoard. Yet even when she inserted her input, she wasn’t keen on being the one to get the food herself either.

Kaili, out of necessity and annoyance, had stalked up the stairs into what is now her room and had gotten back into her first day outfit. The one that they had found her in; the black long-sleeved shirt, tucked into her black jeans, that were tucked into her combat boots. The weapons belt neatly secured around her thighs and her hips but now she had a newly added gun to her waist. Kelce has been teaching her how to shoot while she had been giving a masterclass on first aid and knives.

Once Kaili had arrived down the stairs again, Kelce was already meeting her, wrapping tape around the cloth wrap he’d put around his arms to prevent anything from biting through. Kaili would’ve said that his thought process was sexy and the fact that he ripped the tape with his teeth was even sexier but he’d been avoiding her ever since the first time she fought with Rafe.

Okay, maybe avoiding isn’t the right word because it’s not like he left the room when she walked in but what he did was worse. He didn’t meet her eyes. She’d try to talk to him and all he’d do was hummed in response or reply to her question and shut down again. She was getting irritated since nothing that she had done had brought this on but she also didn’t want to confront him because he must’ve had a lot on his mind and maybe he wasn’t doing it purposefully. So, she allowed it to slide. 

“Where are you going?” She couldn’t help but be snippy at him when he attached the long automatic gun onto a sling and put the strap across his body.

Looking at her as if she had asked the most obvious question that he couldn’t believe he’d have to answer to, he replied slowly, “with you.”

“Uh, I’d rather go with someone who’d communicate with me out there,” she said, forgetting that she was going to let his silence slide, as she leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed. “At this rate, you’d probably let a zombie kill me just to avoid looking at me.”

In a blink of an eye, Kelce had her boxed in with his arms on either side of her, gripping onto the counter as his eyes met hers. Something about the intensity in his gaze made her want to just push him onto the floor and have her way with him but she didn’t. Instead, she just rolled her eyes at his actions, looking irritated at their current position. 

His eyes searched hers as if he was trying to come up with the right words to say but couldn’t settle on one. “Have I been avoiding your eyes? No, look at me because it seems like you have something to say. Have I ever once ignored the hundreds of glances you’ve thrown my way and thought I hadn’t noticed?” 

“Yes,” she breathes the word almost immediately. She wasn’t prepared for where this conversation was headed nor was she prepared for his confession that he made seem so unimportant.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he explained. Which didn’t make Kaili feel any better and in any other situation, with any other person, she’d feel claustrophobic between his arms — though he hadn’t touched her once. 

“All the more reason for you to stay,” her tone trying to sound indifferent as she stared at his necklace that was dangling between them. 

He chuckled humorlessly, “staying isn’t going to change anything for me. Besides, I’m not going to stay here while you’re out there.”

And maybe Kaili was imagining it but it felt like he had gotten closer to her as if his mouth could have grazed hers but he had walked off before she could even make sense of it. As the boy met up with Rafe in the living room. Kaili shook her head at the interaction, now was not the time for a distraction.

Rafe had decided to come along with Kelce and though others might’ve used him as a buffer for the situation that had just happened, Kaili had decided that the best route was acting like it never happened. It was simple enough. JJ had secured them a compact car that they could use and as they passed the fourth hoard of zombies when they had gotten into town, she was starting to become very thankful for him. Kaili hated the sight of them. Their greenish and gray bodies jerking about as some lacked their body parts. One of them, she could’ve sworn, looked right at her. The zombie’s one eye trained on hers as they drove by. The other eye dangling from its socket like some cheap Halloween costume. Kaili wondered if her cousin was now one of them if she could handle seeing her like that.

Her heart thumping in her chest as they pulled up to the grocery store, a couple of people running in and out of the store. Even as she saw the scene, she didn’t trust them. Humans were just as bad as zombies, if not worse. She wiped the sweat off the palm of her hands onto her jeans. As the car pulled into a stop. Rafe looked back at her from the driver’s seat, as if to ask her if she was ready. She wasn’t but she nodded regardless of her emotions. As she exits out of the car, she noticed that the atmosphere around them was a chaotic silence. People with shifting eyes, wiping their heads back and forth as they whisper to their company instead of trust their voice to be low enough not to get attention from the flesh-eaters. 

“I’ll take care of the water, you go for the first aid and some nonperishables,” Rafe whispered to her, and then to Kelce he had instructed him to find any type of meat they could cook if there were any left. If not, then canned foods were never a bad idea.

Kaili walked into the grocery store and dug her nails into her palm as images of Wei popped into her mind. No, she had a task and she was going to complete it. She didn’t have time to get lost in her self pity, not when there were other people’s lives at risk. Looking up at the signs above her head, she started walking to the correct aisle, sticking any food she deemed useful in her currently empty backpack. Not five minutes have gone by until she heard this blood-curdling scream from outside of the store. In the wake of her panic, she had zipped up her bag and clutched it in her hands before peeking through the end cap, towards the entrance. 

Her knees locking themselves in place as more people started screaming and running, she couldn’t tell if they were running in or out of the store. Hell, her fight or flight didn’t even kick in until she spotted a little girl in the middle of the entrance just crying. Now, the smarter option would’ve been to keep hidden, go out through the back as all the flesh-eating creatures ripped through the victims who were waiting there for them but she couldn’t. Kaili pulled the backpack straps on her back as she ran towards the girl, sliding on her knees as she scooped her up and began for the other side of the store.

“Where’re your parents?” She asked the girl as people ran by her and blood splattered onto their shirts. She couldn't get the girl to calm down as the shelves began being toppled over in an attempt to crush the creatures but all it did was create more noise.

“What are you doing?” A female voice was shrill as she ran down an aisle, “that’s my daughter!” The woman said as she picked up the little girl and cling onto her. 

“Then don’t leave her alone,” Kaili snapped at the woman, pulling the gun out of her waistband and firing two shots right behind the lady and her child, as the zombie was getting too close to them.

The woman had run off with her child, with no sign of even a simple thank you. Kaili didn’t think too much about it though, her main concern being that she needed to get out of here alive. Fuck, she needed to find the boys. Putting the safety back on the gun, she decided that it would probably be best to keep her bullets and use the machete instead and so she did.

Hearing a growl behind her, she quickly turned around, only to be knocked down by a drooling zombie who’s missing a jaw. It crawled on her with the jerking movement and she could hear its bones popping with every single move. She had moved her blade up between them and tried to move the creature off her with that, so she would get better leverage in the fight but it didn’t budge. Its tongue moved around in her line of sight, the top row of teeth mimicking the motion of snapping the jaws together if he were to have a lower one. Pulling her knees up, she was able to kick off the zombie, not thinking that her shoes had just touched the exposed ribs. Scrambling to get herself up quickly, she jumped onto the zombie with her blade in its forehead. She had cleared off some zombie necks as she made her way through the aisle, suddenly realizing how many dead people were around her, soon to be undead.

The urgency to find her friends has kicked in. In the midst of it all, she had sliced her hand on a sharp corner of a shelf. Finding a woman screaming for help, she was able to push the zombie away from her and jump on the creature to stab him in between his eyes. Before she even pulled the blade back from the oozing brain in front of her, she was met with a snapping noise near her ear. Instinct had pulled her back but that was before she noticed that the snapping monster wasn’t advancing towards her, that it couldn’t. With the overwhelming smell of human flesh from the creature spitting at her as it tried to bite into the air next to her, she recoiled back away from it. There was a hook around its neck and at the end of the handle, Rafe was holding on tight to it and flinging it off to the side. The thing was too brainless to get up by itself anyway. He had pulled her up quickly and grabbed her hand as he led her towards the entrance of the store, not stopping once to help the rest of the people who were still fighting the zombies. 

Kaili wanted to pull back but she willed herself not to look around, knowing that she wasn’t alone and it was about priorities. She wasn’t going to kill Rafe because she wanted to help someone she didn’t know. She concentrated on not tripping over the bodies and obstacles in her way that Rafe barely even saw as a hardship. Dragging her out of the doorway, as if he’d been in and out a hundred times before, he swung a bat that she hadn’t even noticed was in his other hand to clear a pathway. Kaili, seeing that they were heavily outnumbered, even if there were other people in the parking lot fighting these zombies as well, began swinging her blade next to him. Before she could even get the words out that she was looking for Kelce, a car had turned a corner and screeched as it zoomed towards them. Rafe pulled her steady to his side as the zombies were knocked over like bowling pins, the sounds of bodies hitting the floor forever etched into her mind.

Seeing Kelce through the driver’s window, they had quickly loaded themselves into the car and drove away. Neither of them said anything at first or even acknowledged what had happened until Kelce fixed the rear view mirror so that he could see her from the front seat as he drove, “are you okay?” 

It was a dumb question, of course. She wasn’t okay. Who could be okay after that? 

“Yeah,” she replied, hissing when she tried to grab onto her wrist to ease the pain of her palm bleeding but then accidentally gripping her bruise.

“Were you bit?” Rafe turned suddenly from the passenger seat, staring at her intensely as if he’d be able to make her crack if she was lying.

“I wouldn’t have gotten into the car if I was,” she spat at him, irritated that he had even asked that question. As if she’d put all of them in danger because she was too scared to face her death. No, that’s the thing about it, she wasn’t afraid of dying. She was more afraid of watching the people she loved die. Though at this point, she felt like she was getting used to it. “I cut myself.”

“You should’ve been more careful,” Kelce inputs his opinion into the conversation, definitely not reading the room that the girl in the backseat didn’t want to hear what she should and shouldn’t have done.

“Gee, you’re right. Next time I’ll make sure I don’t accidentally hurt myself...on purpose.”

“Okay,” Rafe raised his voice, sounding annoyed at the exchange as he tore his shirt off over his head and wrapped it around the gushing wound, the way that Kaili had shown him how to. Honestly, she didn’t think he was even listening when she was showing the group how to do it and now she couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. He knew the look on her face immediately and flashed her a smile, his eyes still dead as ever.

When they had reached their temporary home again, Wheezie had rushed out of the house to greet them but quickly ran back into the house when she saw the state of the car. The blood that covered it and the random torn arm that was stuck underneath the car, Kaili figured it must’ve been a grizzly sight for someone her age. Someone who’s never been face to face with a zombie.

Once they were all showered and bandaged up, they were sitting in the living room, Rafe had taken over as the speaker of what had happened earlier that day. Though he had embellished some parts, including the part of the story where he saved her from the zombie that was trying to eat her face off. Kelce didn’t like that part of the story much and Kaili didn’t attempt to correct Rafe that it wasn’t entirely like that. It was the only time that she saw his eyes shine in excitement so she let him tell it how he remembered. She did joke with him about it though, serves him right if he was painting her out to be the damsel in distress.

“All in all, I’d rate the rescue a six out of ten,” she said casually as she shrugged her shoulders, a smirk playing along her lips.

“I saved your life,” Rafe reminded her, his eyes about to pop out of their socket.

“Yes, but you also told us to split up in the first place. Honestly, Rafe, that’s a rookie mistake, to begin with,” and with that, the whole group had started talking over each other. As they finished their dinner. The first real one in a while.

____

After Kaili had cleaned up everything and made sure her bleeding stopped, she made it known to the group of people that were still chattering that she was headed to bed. She wasn’t at all that tired but she needed space to decompress. It was hard for her always being around people but even though she was grateful that she was with them and not alone, she needed to clear her head from the day that had just passed.

She closed the bedroom door and made her way to the window, overlooking the neighborhood, the lights in some houses were on while some people chose to patrol the streets with their big guns for a show as if that would scare off the looters but everyone knows that those desperate enough to loot already have nothing else to lose.

Finally curling up in bed, Kaili wrapped the blanket around her body and drifted off to sleep. Her slumber only lasted about an hour before she was awakened by someone shaking her. She jolted awake, knocking the intruder on the floor and jumping on top of him.

“Are you planning on fighting me with your eyes closed?” a familiar voice whispered and she tried shaking the sleep off of her, rubbing at her eyes to see JJ below her.

“I’m sorry, what happened? What’s wrong?” She said hurriedly as she got off him and made her way towards the door but JJ pulled her back and pushed her back towards the bed.

“Nothing’s wrong, relax,” he whispered at her and then paused, “well, something wrong happened in my room and in my bed but that’s why I need to stay here tonight. It was either you, Topper, or Kelce, and you are the nicest of the three.”

Kaili eyed him, now more curious, “listen, if you’re a bed wetter, you gotta tell me now.”

“No!” JJ denied almost a little too loud, which made Kaili purse her lips to the side and crawled back underneath the covers with suspicious eyes. “Pope and Kiara are like...fucking next to me. Typically I wouldn’t care if someone did that but it was in the same bed and they wouldn’t even let me join.”

At that, Kaili couldn’t help with how hard she laughed. Knowing him, he was probably serious. So, she patted the space next to her, “jump in Romeo,” she instructed as she yawned and turned to her side.

“Thank you,” he said the words so fast, they sounded like one. He jumped into bed next to her and spread out on his side of the bed, she guessed that must be more comfortable than sharing a bed with three people. Especially if those two were a couple.

“People need to get their priorities straight around here,” JJ mumbled, sleep taking over his voice as his eyes drifted close.

“Tell me about it,” Kaili couldn’t have agreed more.

Tags: @rafej-cambanks​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @anxietyandtacos​ @bedazzledbanks​ @millyelliot​ @stargazingstarkey​ @stfukie​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @rafecameron​ @queenk00k​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless​ @thegreatestofheck​ @starlightstarkey​ @spideymyluv​ @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @pogue-writings​ @pankowrudeth​ @deathcompass​ @butgilinsky​ @cutiecolbsss​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @outerbankslut​ @jiaraendgame​

[ibijau]

Jin Rusong Lives / On AO3

A morning in the life of Nie Huaisang now that everything has changed

Nie Huaisang wriggled his fingers, fighting the impulse to grab the ties of Jin Rusong's underclothes and help. It would have been faster, it would have been more efficient, and his ward was going to be late for class again, and… 

The knot unravelled again, provoking a frown on the child's face. Unable to resist any longer Nie Huaisang lunged forward, only to have his hands batted away with absolute authority. 

"I can do it," Jin Rusong complained, sticking out his tongue as he set out to try again. "I'm big, and Feng-jie says only babies need other people to tie their clothes for them." 

Nie Huaisang smiled nervously. He had personally never fought hard to be independent when he was a child, perfectly happy to let other people do everything for him until his father or brother decided he was too old for it. Even back then, he had never put any effort in anything that didn't interest him. He'd taught himself to read at four, but couldn't put his boots on the right foot until he was ten. 

Jin Rusong wasn't him. After having been sheltered all his short life, he could have been expected to remain shy for a long time… But he really was his parents' son and had quickly proven he could be quite sociable once given the chance. In the last two months, he had made quite a few friends already. 

The downside to that was that he had started comparing himself to other children and, in true Jin fashion, had hated that they knew how to do things he couldn't.

It was perfectly normal apparently, and Nie Junyu said Nie Huaisang’s job was to encourage and support Jin Rusong's efforts. Which he tried to do, but sometimes… 

The knot unravelled again. Jin Rusong pouted, suddenly on the verge of tears. 

"I'll never do it right!" 

Nie Huaisang sighed, and smiled as he grasped the ties. This time, he wasn't stopped. 

"Like this," he said, making the knot as slowly as he could so Jin Rusong could see it. Then, in spite of how late they were already, he undid the knot. "Now SongSong can try again, one more time." 

"I don't want. I prefer if uncle Nie does it for me." 

"Just one more try. You know uncle Nie is so proud of SongSong when he tries his best."

"But I've tried so hard! It never works." 

It had been a spectacular failure so far, but Nie Huaisang blamed himself more than Jin Rusong. A good student could only do so much with a bad teacher, and in the two months that Jin Rusong had been under his care, Nie Huaisang had come to the conclusion he was not, and by far, a very good teacher. It gave him a new sympathy for Lan Qiren. For Jiang Wanyin and Lan Xichen as well, who had both helped raise their nephews and never seemed to struggle with it.

Sighing again, Nie Huaisang tied the knot one final time. 

"Later I'll ask Nie Junyu if he can tell us a different method," he offered. "He's the one who taught Feng-jie, so he must know how to do it right. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help, and it’s important to ask for help for things you can’t do alone, right SongSong?"

A lesson Nie Huaisang wished sometimes he had learned better. It was a little late for him, but Jin Rusong wouldn’t have to turn out like him. The child did not answer right away, but Nie Huaisang simply took his silence as agreement and worked on putting the rest of his clothes on.

"You won't get mad if I never learn?" Jin Rusong asked with hesitation.

Nie Huaisang’s hands froze for a second. 

"Why would I be mad at SongSong?" he asked lightly, grabbing the next layer of cloth. "Is it something that happened before, people getting mad at SongSong when he has trouble with something?" 

"Mommy says it's important I'm good always," Jin Rusong replied after another too long pause. "Because people will be mean to daddy if we're not all very good. Sometimes LingLing is not good," he added with just a touch of judgement. "But I try because I don't want daddy to be sad." 

"SongSong is such a good boy," Nie Huaisang said, quickly finishing to dress him up. "Let's go. Fang Mingtian is going to scold me again. I need to start waking up earlier so we can maybe try to be on time someday." 

Jin Rusong tilted his head, and offered a foot so his boots could be put on. 

"Uncle Nie is the sect leader. I thought people have to be nice to the sect leader?" 

"Please, do explain that to Fang Mingtian,” Nie Huaisang muttered, grabbing him in his arms as soon as his boots were on. “And to Nie Junyu because he did scold me last week when I was late for that meeting.”

Jin Rusong nodded a little too seriously, as if he really intended to explain to everyone that they needed to be nicer to Nie Huaisang. He really was the most precious child in the world, and Nie Huaisang could only hope his ward nephew would keep that innocence and good heart a while longer.

When Jin Rusong had been dropped in his class (and Fang Mingtian scolded Nie Huaisang for being so late once more), Nie Huaisang headed to his office to deal with the day’s business. It was usually the matter of a shichen at most now that he no longer had to feign incompetence, and then he’d be free for the rest of the day unless something came up.

Nie Huaisang had finished sorting through some requests and checking a series of bills when Nie Funyu joined him, bringing a few more urgent cries for help that had just arrived that morning, before telling him that some merchants from Qinghe had requested an audience with him about some matter they needed Qinghe Nie’s help with.

“Does it look urgent?”

“No, but Huang Xuhuan is among them,” Nie Funyu pointed out with a grimace that Nie Huaisang mirrored.

“That entitled… Fine, I’ll see them right away,” Nie Huaisang sighed, rising from his desk. “It’s probably still about that trade deal he wants to get with Yunmeng. They must think that I’m on good terms with Jiang zongzhu again.”

Nie Funyu raised an eyebrow at that remark, which Nie Huaisang ignored. He’d exchanged a few letters with Jiang Wanyin, and many more than that with Jin Rulan, but he wasn’t so foolish as to think he got along with either of them. Still, of course Jiang Wanyin’s visit a few weeks earlier had been noticed. And when Jin Rulan came to check on his cousin, as Nie Huaisang expected him to do at any moment, there would be still more gossip about reconciliation between Qinghe Nie and the other sects.

Stupid.

Nie Huaisang had further ruined his sect’s reputation, and there would probably not be any going back from that.

Pushing away that unpleasant thought, and as they walked toward the throne room, Nie Huaisang tried to focus on something that he could still do right: Jin Rusong.

-

“I’ll need you to explain to Jin Rusong how to make a knot,” he told Nie Funyu. “When I try, he doesn’t manage it, and he’s scared he’ll never manage. I think he’d profit from a better teacher and you’ve had all those children, so...”

“He is still young, it’s normal for him to struggle,” Nie Funyu replied with a small frown. “It’s A-Feng bothering him with that, isn’t it?” Nie Huaisang nodded, a little embarrassed to be exposing the little girl that way. “I’ll tell her to be nicer to him about that. She’s just figured it out recently, so she’s boasting a bit but she shouldn’t make other kids feel bad. Not to mention she’s nearly a year older than him.”

“I’ve tried to explain that to him before, but he doesn’t listen, “ Nie Huaisang complained. "I wish…" he sighed. "Dage would have known what to do." 

To his surprise, Nie Funyu burst out laughing and had to stop walking.

"Nie zongzhu, no offence, but your brother was really out of his depth when he found himself suddenly in charge of you,” he said when he managed to calm down. “He kept asking Fang Mingtian what to do, and he every other day he had to beg Zonghui to help because he was the only one who could make you eat vegetables."

"I don't remember that," Nie Huaisang mumbled, opening his fan to hiding behind it. "He always seemed so sure of himself about everything."

“Again, no offence, but he let you get away with everything because he didn’t want to be too harsh. With how things were with your father toward the end…”

Nie Huaisang nodded grimly, grasping his fan a little harder. His father had been a good man, a great father, but after his sabre broke, things had been… different. Nie Huaisang had been too young then to understand why, not much older than Jin Rusong in fact, and so all he remembered was a sudden change, bouts of anger, and ultimately…

It still surprised him sometimes that he hadn’t recognised the same symptoms in Nie Mingjue, years later.

He hoped Jin Rusong would never have to see those symptoms in him. With how little he cultivated, with the fact that Jin Rulan would probably want his cousin to return to Carp Tower within a year or two… it should be safe, Jin Rusong wouldn’t be around when the family curse caught up with him at last.

“Your brother didn’t want you to be scared of him like you’d become scared of your father,” Nie Funyu soberly said. “He spoiled you rotten, never scolded you as much as he should have, let you fail in your studies without consequences, he never even really pushed you to practice the saber… We were a little worried how you’d end up at one point, but in the end you turned out fine, Nie zongzhu.”

Nie Huaisang scoffed and started walking again. No need to make those damn merchants angry.

“Sure, aside from the…”

“You did what you had to do,” Nie Funyu cut him, following him. “Not the way the rest of us would have gone about it, but I promise you there isn’t a person in Qinghe Nie who isn’t proud of what you did for your brother. And your brother would be proud as well,” Nie Funyu added before his sect leader could try to protest. “He’d be proud that you avenged him, and he’d be proud that you’re trying to do right by that child.”

Of that, Nie Huaisang was less than sure. Nie Mingjue had been a good man, but his sense of justice had not always been very fair as such. Maybe he would have wanted the total annihilation of Jin Guangshan’s bloodline, the way he had desired the end of Wen Ruohan’s. Maybe…

But there would be no knowing what he would have wanted. Nie Huaisang was left with nothing but his own judgement to decide how to act. A rotten tool to use, and one that had brought him mostly trouble. Still, it was what he had, and he’d work with it.

“I think I’ll play it stupid with Huang Xuhuan,” he whispered to Nie Funyu just before they reached the throne room. “It’ll make him feel he can safely show his hand. Please don’t hesitate to roll your eyes and huff behind my back, it’ll help sell it and you do it so well.”

“That would be because it’s a sincere reaction, Nie zongzhu,” Nie Funyu retorted, fighting a smile. “Can’t believe they buy it when you overact like that…”

Nie Huaisang winked at him from behind his fan, then schooled his features into a pathetic, worried expression as he entered the room where the merchants waited.

“Huang gongzi!” he cried out. “What an honour to have a visit from you! Such an honour, I can’t say how pleased I am… and your friends too of course. Such a pleasure! Did you want to discuss something?”

The merchants grinned, confident that they’d get their way as always, even though that had never actually happened yet. And behind him, Nie Huaisang knew that Nie Funyu had already started rolling his eyes.

It wasn’t how he’d hoped to spend his morning, but this might be fun too.

[theimpossiblescheme]

A Question of Pedigree

Just right under the wire, here is my piece for the Cats Secret Santa! @gardencorvid wanted something with Jenyanydots and/or Bustopher Jones, so I have delivered both--I hope you enjoy!

Of all of Bustopher Jones’s various clubs, Blimp’s was Jenyanydots’ least favorite.  She still indulged him every time he wanted to treat her, of course—that was simply what mates did—but there was a part of her that almost dreaded it. For one thing, it was always a little too cold, and the food wasn’t all that spectacular, especially compared to Fox’s down the street.  And for another thing, the other guests there made her fur crawl.  From their perches on the tables and bar stools, it always felt like they were looking down and judging her from on high—her rumpled fur from her robe, her uneven claws, the tattered pink bow around her neck, the smell of mice and insects.  She wasn’t a perfectly brushed and pampered trophy pet, and here more than anywhere else, she knew it.

Right now, she was sitting in front of one such cat while Bustopher went off in search of a waiter. A fluffy grey Himalayan with a ring of pink diamonds around her neck and a plummy upper-class accent that almost sounded fake.  She was sipping out of a tiny teacup of cream with her little claw raised daintily in the air, and Jeny didn’t have the heart to tell her that no other cats actually did that.  But she kept quiet for the moment.

“Jonesy Dear tells me you’re part of that little Tribe near Piccadilly Circus,” the Himalayan—Duchess—said after a moment, dabbing at her mouth with a handkerchief.  She kept calling Bustopher that, either not noticing or not caring how it set Jeny’s teeth on edge every time.  “It must be awfully exciting, going so long without humans looking after you—however do you get along?”

“Oh, It’s… really not all that difficult with cats who all genuinely like each other,” Jeny replied. “Besides, we’re not together every second of every day since most of us have other homes.”

“Really?”  Eyes brightening, Duchess propped her chin on her paws, looking at Jeny like she were a particularly interesting bug, and grinned.  “So you aren’t all strays?”

“Hardly!  Quite a few of us have humans, including me.”  The very idea of poor little Etcetera or even Mungojerrie growing up with a dirty shoebox for a bed out in the bitter cold… ghastly.

“Is it true that you all meet in the old Egyptian Theater?”

“We used to.”  Jeny felt a small pang even mentioning the place. It had indeed been the Jellicles’ old gathering ground before some far away, very important humans decided it would be fun to start throwing bombs at each other.  After the first strike, Old Deuteronomy had declared the condemned building too dangerous for so many cats at once.  “Now we meet in the Junkyard across the block—it’s much safer if we need someplace to hide.”

“Mmm.”  Duchess looked much less impressed by that.  “And, er… what exactly is it you do?  For your Tribe, I mean.”

“Well, there I’m a sort of… medicine cat of sorts.  My other mate and I, Jellylorum, share those duties.  If a cat is sick or injured, they come to us.  And when I’m with my humans, I take care of the mice and cockroaches and such.”

“Ah!”  At this, Duchess perked up again, and her cloying smile returned.  “Not a bad lot, really.  After all, the humans aren’t going to eat the little pests themselves.”

Jeny was halfway through taking a sip from her own cup of cream, and she narrowly avoided spraying it all over Duchess.  “Eat the��no!  No, no, no, why would I—they’re not food, they’re my students!”

Duchess’s ears pinned back against her head.  “Your what?”

“My students!”  Great Everlasting Cat, that was another ghastly idea—just gobbling down her precious pupils as if they didn’t mean the world to her. As if the mice hadn’t made her a thank you card out of cardboard and glitter glue just the other day for teaching them their scales.  “I teach them how to be little ladies and gentlemen—music, crocheting, community service, things like that.  So they don’t have to be pests.”

“And this never struck you as… well, a bit of an odd task?”

“Well, the humans aren’t exactly going to encourage them either, are they?” Jeny insisted, feeling her claws snake in and out defensively.  “And if other cats aren’t willing to stick up for them, then—”

“I mean,” Duchess interrupted, her tone extremely dry, “it isn’t the sort of thing a cat of pedigree would do, is it?”

…So.  Jeny said nothing right away, but her eyebrows lifted at the other queen’s words.  She wasn’t even surprised, really.  Surprised that she took this long to get to the point, perhaps, but at last the other shoe had fallen.  “Then it’s a very good thing,” she said archly, placing her cup back down on its saucer, “that I don’t pretend to be a cat of pedigree.”

“Hmph.”  Duchess merely tossed her head and lifted a paw to inspect her claws.  “And yet you and Jonesy Dear—”

“Everything all right here, ladies?”  At the sound of Bustopher’s voice, Jeny could have absolutely melted.  And as she turned around, the corpulent tom—as well as the little tabby waiter behind him—glanced between the two queens and seemed to instantly gauge the situation.  “Old Duchess hasn’t been giving you trouble, has she, Jeny?”  His voice was mild, but his gaze was levelled soberly at the Himalayan, giving her a silent scold.

“Not at all—I was just taking my leave.”  Nearly springing to her feet, Jeny laid her cup and saucer aside and turned her best equally sickening smile upon Duchess.  “Lovely talking to you, dearie.  And I’ll be sure to let my students know you said hello.”  And with a self-satisfied twitch of her nose at Duchess’s answering squirm, she took her leave, clutching Bustopher’s arm.

“You mustn’t pay her any mind,” Bustopher murmured, leaning in close to her so no one would overhear.  “Some of the guests here can be… shall we say, a bit stiff-necked.”

Jeny nodded, slipping her paw into his and squeezing as they walked.  There were snobs in all of these clubs ready to look down on her for being a Junkyard cat, and some of them were more obvious than others.  She’d expected it, really, and it was never their approval she was looking for…

But there was always that little niggle in the back of her mind.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” she whispered, resting her cheek on her mate’s shoulder.  “That I’m not…?”  She tipped her head back in Duchess’s direction.

“Truthfully, my dear?” Bustopher smiled and leaned his head against hers, giving her a small nuzzle.  “I’m rather glad you aren’t.”

[lloydskywalkers]

Ahhh thank you so much!! 💕sO the lack of season 5 aftermath is possibly one of my biggest issues with Ninjago because like...there was no way. There was no way Lloyd just walked all that off, Morro had him pretty much the whole season and we saw what five minutes did to Ronin. I think it took a fair amount of time for him to bounce back, and it likely left long-lasting effects, but because this is season 5 angst u get a fic explaining my thoughts instead :��’D

(Also answering this in it’s own post because guess who spiraled out of control again! It’s s5 angst u guys i’m weak)

The aftermath of the battle is, as it usually goes, incredibly underwhelming. And by that, Cole means incredibly slow, because the Preeminent ripped the motor off their steamboat, and even with Nya pitching in every now and then, their pace across the seawater is glacial. By the time the nearest Ninjago shore comes into view, everyone on the boat’s on their last legs of sanity — some for…slightly different reasons than others.

The thing about being stuck on a crammed steamboat for hours on end, is that you can’t really hide. There’s only so far you can get, unless you take a dip in the ocean, which is a hard pass for Cole — not that he was trying to hide, anyways.

No, the only one who looks like they’re actually considering jumping off the side of the boat is Lloyd, and that’s because instead of vanishing off to who-knows-where to have his inevitable breakdown, he’s stuck smack in the middle of his very protective family, who get an up close and personal view of the exact moment the color starts to leech from his face.

Lloyd’s making a valiant effort. He’s been making a valiant effort, ever since they pulled him from the Caves of Despair. He and Kai had cornered Sensei in what turned into a near-shouting match alone at letting him fight in the battle against Morro in the first place, because Lloyd had looked two degrees from dead when they’d gotten him back. He’d only looked moderately alive when he’d stepped out with them, hoodie hanging too loose from his shoulders as he’d handed off the green gi to Nya, and it had burned Cole to let him take the brunt of the fight as he did.

Not that Cole feels much heat now anyway, but — metaphorically.

Either way, Lloyd holds up valiantly until the combined toll of Morro’s possession and the battle with the Preeminent finally hits, at which point he goes a sickly shade of white and keels straight over into Kai with a migraine so bad Cole can’t even manage to pull his fingers free from where they dig into his skull.

“What happened?! Did Morro hurt him?”

“Did Morro hurt him, where have you been this last month—”

“I meant right now, don’t snap at me—”

“Would you keep your voices down, you’re only causing him more pain.”

This quiets the commotion that’s sprung up in their corner of the boat, all of them hovering anxiously over Lloyd, their salt-water hair and wind-swept clothes and already-forming bruises leaving the entire team a vivid mess. Kai’s left holding a lapful of whimpering brother, looking two seconds from crying himself as he tries to soothe Lloyd before he tears hair out, so Cole takes a shuddering breath, pulls himself together, and takes the lead.

It’s easier than he’d thought it would be, allowing himself to fall into the removed sort of autopilot. Shoulders back, emotions locked up tight, put on a brave face and make the calls. Leading has never been an easy position, but it teaches you to compartmentalize, to suppress, and to delay.

That delay is what Lloyd is paying for now, Cole thinks soberly, as Zane and Kai carry Lloyd up the steps of the Bounty, Sensei already darting inside to brew up whatever tea’s supposed to help this time. It’d be easier if Cole took him — he knows that. He’s the strongest of the team, even in this state.

But he can’t bring his ghostly fingers to touch him. Not with the flinch that had run through his younger brother earlier.

Cole swallows thickly. Lloyd hadn’t meant it, he knows that. He wouldn’t even hold it against him if he had.

The turnaround from regaining Lloyd to the battle with the Preeminent was terribly quick, and it only takes a look or two to gain an understanding of the damage wrought on their youngest brother. Lloyd is bruised and gaunt and horribly thin, and the normal shine in his eyes is hollowed-out and haunted. There’s an unspoken dread among them all, a heavy weight that sits on their shoulders, that Morro has actually managed to break Lloyd with his possession — that the longs weeks spent trapped in his own mind, beaten and neglected and alone — have snapped the unfathomably strong willpower Lloyd’s always had.

And Morro, for all that Cole hates him for that, was a ghost. Cole isn’t stupid enough to miss that. And he’s certainly not stupid enough to ignore what the repercussions of that might be on Lloyd, toward anyone else who might be a ghost.

Cole feels his chest tighten as he watches Nya run a hand through Lloyd’s tangled hair, her eyes a million miles away as she sits beside where he lies on their couch, tucked firmly into the layers of blankets he recognizes as Kai and Zane’s.

He bites his cheek. It’d be better if they used his. It’s not like Cole needs them anymore.

“He’s overtired,” Sensei Wu says quietly, his hand drifting briefly across his nephew’s forehead. “He pushed it too far in battle, and he has yet to fully recover from the toll both the possession and his injuries took on him. He will be fine, with rest.”

There’s a quiet exhale of relief at his words, but it’s a weary one. Kai doesn’t look at him, his stare only growing hot where he sits at Lloyd’s side, refusing to move even to change from his battle-stained gi.

Cole’s eyes flick to Sensei Wu, then back to Lloyd. There’s a bleeding kind of pain in Sensei’s words, his voice shot through with loss. There’s a crippling edge of guilt in it too, though. Cole knows Sensei is mourning Morro — he knows their relationship was different. But as much as Cole prides himself of being sympathetic, it’s really, really difficult to feel any sort of grief for Morro, when his baby brother’s curled in on himself in pain on the couch, eyebrows furrowed tightly in stress and exhaustion.

Lloyd murmurs something inaudible, shifting in his sleep before settling again, his expression still pinched in weariness. He somehow looks both years older and so very young at the same time, and it makes Cole’s heart hurt.

He’s yanked from his staring as Jay’s head suddenly presses against his shoulder. Cole starts, almost forgetting to remain solid before Jay yanks his head back up, eyelids fluttering from where they’d drifted off to sleep.

“Sorry,” he yawns, rubbing at a bloodshot eye. “Didn’ mean to fall asleep on you.”

Cole blinks at him, then glances at the rest of their team. Lloyd isn’t the only one succumbing to exhaustion — the entire team is barely hanging on, all dark-circled and hazy eyes. Beside Jay, Zane looks like he wants to shut down for a month, Nya looks like she’s close to tears for some reason, and Kai looks like he’s steadily burning through the last reserves of his energy just by staring at the floor.

Something weird shifts in Cole’s gut. He feels exhausted, stripped raw and worn, but he doesn’t feel tired, not like the others look. He just feels that same, cold kind of numbness that has yet to leave him since Yang’s temple.

He swallows again, and tries to ignore how useless the gesture is.

“You should head to bed,” he tells Jay gently instead. His lifts his head, addressing the others. “We all should.”

Kai opens his mouth to protest instantly, then shuts it. He glances at Nya, who’s practically asleep where she sits on the couch, seconds from tipping over. He looks at Lloyd. “I’m sleeping out here,” he finally says, firmly.

Cole guesses that’s the best he can ask for from him, right now. He nods to Zane, who gently helps Nya up, knocking Kai lightly on the shoulder as he does. “At least change,” he orders, and it’s a sign to how tired Kai is that he complies without arguing.

Cole tugs Jay up by his arm, patting him on the back. “C’mon, zaptrap,” he murmurs. “I’m not your pillow.”

Jay grumbles inaudibly at him, but he staggers to his feet, yawning as he plods toward the bedroom. Cole looks to Sensei Wu, who is still hovering by Lloyd, staring at his nephew with a look Cole can’t quite figure out.

“Sensei?” he finally dares, hesitantly. “It’s been a long day, so…”

“Ah, of course.” Sensei Wu blinks, shaking his head. “I would let him rest here for the night,” he says, nodding to Lloyd. His voice is quiet, and Cole can easily find the pain in it this time. “Better to let him rest.”

That doesn’t exactly settle well with Cole, because the idea of leaving any of his brothers apart for the night, even if it’s just in another room, turns his stomach. Especially when one of them is the brother they’d lost, and only just barely got back, so—

Well. Cole doesn’t need to sleep anymore, does he. He can keep an eye out.

“Of course,” he says instead, dipping his head as Sensei Wu heads off after the others. “Goodnight, Sensei.”

Cole moves to follow him, figuring he can at least change his clothes, but he hesitates over Lloyd, footsteps faltering. For a brief second, he lets his hand hovers over the top of his brother’s sleeping head, barely ghosting the pale blond strands. He swallows, then pulls his hand away.

Lloyd had told him once, when he was younger, that he was scared people would hate him for what he was. Never who — just what. Cole had never understood the phrasing, but now…

Now, Cole desperately, painfully hopes Lloyd doesn’t hate him for what he’s become.

***********

It’s the third nightmare that finally manages to pull Lloyd from sleep, because somehow the first two weren’t exciting enough to warrant waking up for.

At least he hasn’t woken up Kai with it, he thinks miserably, still trying to catch his breath, his heart racing from the nightmare. He exhales shakily, glancing over to where Kai’s sprawled out on the couch across from him, snoring quietly and dead to the world. Kai looks exhausted, even in sleep, and Lloyd feels guilt digging its claws into his chest again.

Your fault, a voice in the back of his head reminds him. You hurt him, you hurt them all, Green Ninja—

Lloyd swallows, wincing as he shifts, sitting up quietly. He won’t wake Kai up for this. His older brother has suffered enough for him already.

Besides, his throat feels like he’s been swallowing sandpaper, and he doesn’t; really trust his voice, anyway. Lloyd sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and tugging his blanket over his shoulders like a cape.

In all honesty, he’d like nothing more than to stay on this couch for the rest of his life, because Kai let him have his really warm blanket — which, granted, says a lot more about the state Lloyd’s in right now than he’d like, but still. Lloyd is comfortable, tucked in the corner of the couch like he is. And comfortable isn’t something he’s been in the last few weeks, at all.

But he’s not — he’s not supposed to be thinking about that, he reminds himself, furiously shoving the memories back into their little Do-Not-Touch box in the corner of his mind, as he gingerly tests his legs out. His right leg shudders precariously when he stands, and Lloyd bites his lip, frowning. He could’ve sworn it was his left that was hurt, since that was the one the Preeminent had nearly ripped off pulling him into the Cursed Realm, and Morr—

Aha, nope, Lloyd reminds himself. Back in the box. He can think about that — about him — later.

Much, much later. Right now, he just wants a glass of water, then he wants to go back to sleep for another twenty hours straight. He’d like to just go back to bed as it is, because his limbs feel as sluggish as melting butter, but the water’s important, because he’s ‘severely dehydrated’ or something. Whatever Zane had declared as Lloyd tried to stop his brain from imploding on him earlier.

So glass of water, then back to bed. Lloyd just has to make it to the kitchen, which should — should be easy. His leg isn’t shaking that badly, and it’s not like his ribs are actually broken. Just bruised, and Lloyd can walk off bruises, easy.

He just needs to remember how, he thinks, as he takes a shuddering breath where he stands frozen. He blows it out, closing his eyes to steady himself. He immediately snaps them back open, trying not to keel over to the side. Oh, mistake. Every time Lloyd closes his eyes he’s falling through realms again, the world spinning and leaving him loose and shaky, which is only moderately better than the alternative thing he’d see, which is…

Well, he left Lloyd with a lot of things he could see that would keep him up.

Back in the box! Lloyd scolds himself, frantically tearing his mind elsewhere before he can slip down that particular slope, one that he knows is only going to send him spiraling into icy fear and panic.

Lloyd shakes his head furiously, bare feet padding quietly as he makes his way to the kitchen. His skin crawls at the darkness that presses in from all sides, and he feels his power press against his fingertips, begging to light his way. Lloyd presses his lips together and shoves it down. His control over his powers is tentative at best right now — he’d learned that the hard way earlier, when he’d exploded all the police floodlights that were just trying to get them safely to shore.

The reminder causes his cheeks to heat, and Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn’t want to think about how much he’s lost, how far behind he’s fallen, because of…this. His powers feel wild and fragile now, like they did when he was just beginning to train, and Lloyd hates that. How is he supposed to make up everything to his team when he can barely even—

A cold chill of air suddenly licks against the back of his neck, rustling his clothes and blanket and tugging at his hair, and the chill that slides down his spine is all the warning he gets. The whistling sound from the broken kitchen window should have warned him, but Lloyd’s still unprepared.

It’s just — it’s the wind.

That’s all, just a little breeze, and Lloyd’s slammed so hard by a dizzying vertigo of terror that he falls right to his knees on the spot, his vision going hazy as a dull roaring echoes in his ears.

He’d scream, but his lungs have suddenly quit on him, sputtering uselessly in his chest as he wheezes, panic blotting out every other rational thought. The phantom fingers of the wind are still grasping at him, still pulling at his hair and wrapping around his neck, forcing into his mind and tearing him apart form the inside and no, no no no, he can’t do this again, he can’t—

Some part of Lloyd’s mind knows perfectly well what’s happening to him. It’s not like he hasn’t had panic attacks before. But the rest of his mind—

Lloyd’s teeth press together so hard his jaw aches, and his eyes burn as he forces shaky breaths to rattle from his chest. The hot shame of how pathetic he has to look right now is only drowned out the absolute sense of terror rooting him on his knees.

Kai, he thinks desperately, his hands shaking so violently that his fingernails clack against the floor. Kai is here, Kai will save him from Morro, he won’t leave him to spiral back into that darkness. His whole family is here, just in the other room, if he can only—

A muffled voice forces its way through the roaring in his ears, echoing oddly against his brain. Before Lloyd can place it, there’s a touch on his shoulder, gentle but cold, like a wisp of freezing air, just like his touch.

Lloyd looks up, and through blurring vision sees that same unearthly shade of green, flickering and translucent, and his entire being slams into panic.

All he’s able to get out is a rasping croak, but he’s still able to snap at the figure.

“Get away from me!”

He tears his arm from their grasp, stumbling back. He’s not going to be taken again, he’s not going back in the darkness, he’s never letting someone touch him like that again—

Lloyd wipes at his eyes, his vision clearing, and he freezes dead.

— oh. Lloyd’s eyes go wide in horror. Oh no, oh no, it’s not him. It’s not any of his ghosts.

It’s Cole, his hand pulled back to his chest, staring at him with the most heartbroken, hurt expression on his face Lloyd has ever seen in his life.

Lloyd’s heart drops all the through his stomach to his feet, and he goes cold.

“I-I—” Cole’s eyes are wide with hurt, but that hurt quickly melts into a horrified kind of despair. He pulls back further, swallowing thickly. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away. Shutting down. “I’m sorry, I should have realized—”

“No—” Lloyd croaks.

“Obviously you’d — I’m sorry, just being stupid Cole as always—”

“—no, no Cole—”

“—just making things worse, I’ll leave.”

“N-no, Cole, I didn’t mean — Cole, I’m so sorry—”

Cole isn’t even looking at him, his shoulders hitching tightly as he turns away. “I’ll get Kai. Or anyone else.”

He moves to his feet, leaving Lloyd where he’s still sprawled uselessly on the floor, and Lloyd’s stomach turns.

No, no, no! he thinks frantically, fumbling to find feeling where his legs have gone numb. Cole can’t leave, not with that look still on his face, not before Lloyd can fix this—

“Cole wait, stop—!”

Lloyd moves to rush after him, to grab him, to pull him back and apologize — but his ankle is still weak and his balance is still shaky and the panic’s left him wobbly, and he gets one step before his foot twists in his blanket, the ground’s yanked out from under him, and he slams front-first into the floor with a muffled grunt, knocking his chin against the floor and biting straight through his lip.

“Ow,” he manages into the floor, somewhat stunned, his voice muffled as his face throbs.

“Lloyd!”

Oh good, Lloyd thinks hazily, as his mouth fills with tangy, metallic blood. It worked. Cole came back.

Hands wrap around his shoulders, hauling him up and setting him upright before quickly pulling back. Before Lloyd can protest, Cole’s back, all up in his face where he’s now sitting on the floor next to him.

“Aw, Lloyd, why’d you do that,” Cole’s voice is pained as his hand ghosts over the blood dripping down his chin, thick eyebrows tense in worry.

Lloyd shakes his head, wiping a hand over his mouth and grimacing. His lip stings something horrible, and he’s appalled to find that his eyes are tearing up from the pain.

“I wan’ed to match the rest’a my face,” he manages out though his busted lip, before cringing.

Cole gives him a look. Lloyd doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s better than the look he’d had on a second ago.

Cole sighs, sounding weary. “I’ll get Zane. He can help you ice it, and I’ll—”

“No!” Lloyd yelps, grabbing for his arm. He latches around Cole’s wrist just before he manages to escape, and Cole snaps his eyes to him, looking panicked.

“Lloyd, I-I…I get it,” he says, gently prying at his fingers. “What you went through — it’s…it’s okay, just—”

Lloyd doesn’t let him get any further, because he finally gets past the giant chunk of completely irrational fear in his chest and manages to throw his arms around Cole’s middle, hugging him tightly until Cole’s forced back down with an oof.

For a second, Cole’s about as receptive as a rock, sitting all stiff and rigid. But he finally, finally relaxes, breath whooshing shakily out of his chest as he slowly, carefully returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around him.

Lloyd’s prepared for the unusually cold touch this time. He focuses instead on how gentle it is, how it feels like family and home and safety. He’s an idiot for mistaking Cole for anyone else, Lloyd thinks hotly to himself, his eyes stinging with tears.

“It’s not,” he whispers. “It’s not okay, you’re not— you’re not Morro, and I shouldn’t—”

Lloyd’s breath hitches. Oh no, he’s opened the box. He’s opened the box and now he’s thinking about it, his mind is reaching in and pulling out every memory of what Morro did to him, every action he took that Lloyd couldn’t stop, all the words he’d forced from his mouth, all the awful things—

A dizzying rush of fury smashes into him. How could he, how could he, it wasn’t enough that he took Lloyd’s body and his mind and his strength and left him a hollow shell, no, he had to dig his fingers far enough in his brain that Lloyd’s scared of his own family now—

“—hate him, I hate him, I hate him—”

“I know, buddy, I know—”

Though Cole’s holding him tight, he shifts him slightly to the side with a quiet hiss of breath, and Lloyd belatedly remembers — tears. Water and ghosts do not get along. And here Lloyd’s crying enough for a river on top of him.

He jerks back with a gasp. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” he blabbers, wiping frantically at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

It’s Cole’s turn to grab his arm before he pulls away, his gaze firm. “Don’t,” he says, sounding pained. “Don’t apologize for that. I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me.”

Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry, you’re a ghost and it’s all my fault.”

Cole stills. “What?” he finally says, his voice incredulous.

Lloyd doesn’t reply, crying harder as he tries to absorb himself into his blanket, maybe to suffocate, because at least then he won’t be weeping all over the kitchen floor like a child, and — and—

“Lloyd,” Cole sounds agonized now. “Lloyd, this wasn’t your fault. None of this was. You can’t blame yourself for it, you can’t. Please don’t.”

Lloyd gives a keening whine in reply, burying his face in his blanket. Yes, he can. He can, just watch him. Lloyd can blame himself for the whole sorry thing, because he went to that museum alone when he knew full well he was still a mess, and now?

Cole’s a ghost, his family’s hurt, Lloyd’s a worse mess, and his dad is dead, for real dead now, and none of it would’ve happened if Lloyd could’ve just—could’ve just—

Lloyd feels a bit like he’s exploding, except it’s all coming out in the tidal wave of tears he’s been stockpiling somewhere, and darn it, he’s supposed to be dehydrated now, where’s it all coming from—

Cole gently lifts his blanket, folding it up as a barrier between him and Lloyd’s running eyes, and pulls him back in, holding him tightly. Lloyd unashamedly clings back, because he’s got no dignity left at this point anyways, and he’s lived with the idea that he’d never see his family again now, and it hurt so much worse than anything Morro could do to him.

“It’s not your fault,” Cole tells him again, his voice thick. “We’ll fix it. We’ll figure it out, Lloyd, we’ll work through it, all of us together this time. You’re going to be okay. I promise, I promise.”

Lloyd just folds in on himself further, burying his face against Cole as he tries to choke back sobs.

Going to be okay. He wants to laugh. His dad’s gone. Lloyd’s entire being feels like a bruise. He could get past that before, maybe. Probably. But—

Cole’s dead.  

How on earth are they supposed to fix that?

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Valentines Day shenanigans with the ship of your choice? Or maybe board game/poker night with the main four?

(Direct sequel of midnight revelations)

It starts like this:

Mariner is teaching Tendi poker. Or well, Mariner is teaching Tendi her version of poker which involves no pants—for some reason—, various pointy objects that Sam is keeping his distance from and an abundance of multi-language profanity that is rather impressive for two women outside of the linguistics department.

Really though, Sam is impressed

Tendi, who has absolutely no poker face, is somehow winning and Mariner is somewhere between proud mom friend™ and shoving her throwing stars at the first person who pokes fun at her losing streak. Somewhere in all of this, Mariner runs out of credits and contraband, so with a sigh and a characteristic half-smirk, she tosses her last chip on the table.

“I’m going all in.”

“Your all in would be scarier if it literally wasn’t your last credit,” Sam remarks sarcastically from where he’s nursing a beer.

Mariner flips him the bird. “Whaddya you got for me, D’Vana?”

Tendi, trying to hold back her shit-eating grin and failing—again no poker face—shoves her huge pile of chips into the center of the table.

“Oh, I’m all in, baby.”

“Good,” Mariner grins back.

“Good,” Tendi replies, crossing her arms.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I’m glad you went all in.”

“So am I.”

“Please stop flirting and finish the game,” Sam mutters, rolling his eyes.

Mariner doesn’t flip him the bird this time but gives him a side-eye that would have been its usual level of pee-your-pants-terrifying if not for the light blush that dusts her cheeks.

Tendi giggles. “Wanna raise the stakes?”

“Have you met me?”

“That’s fair,” both Tendi and Sam say in the same voice. Mariner rolls her eyes but can’t suppress her smug grin.

“Loser has to ask out the next person who enters the room,” Tendi says, dramatically steepling her hands in front of her face.

Mariner snorts. Loudly. “What are we, fucking twelve?”

“You got a better idea?” Tendi taunts.

“Actually,” Mariner lets a smirk crawl across her face. “As long as we’re going with sleepover levels of dares…loser has to get the next person who walks through that door to date them for three weeks without cracking.”

Tendi cackles, throwing down her cards.

“Full house,” Sam absentmindedly notes. “Not bad, Tendi.”

“Yeah, not bad,” Mariner says, revealing her hand to be royal fucking flush. “Enjoy that date, D’Vana.”

Sam chokes on his drink, while Tendi groans. Mariner laughs psychotically. “Work on that poker face, baby girl. You’ll get it eventually.”

“Ugh, you were just letting me win.”

“Maybe,” Mariner grins innocently. Tendi scowls at her. “Oh, come on,” she laughs. “Whoever comes through that door next can’t be that bad.”

This was the exact moment that Sam realizes that the universe has a sense of humor, because Brad fucking Boimler walks through the door.

Tendi turns a little blue around the cheeks—the Orion equivalent to blushing, Sam guesses—and smiles at him, waving.

“Fuck,” Mariner hisses. “Abort mission!”

Sam and Tendi frown at her. “What?”

“D’Vana, you cannot date Boimler,” Mariner whispers furiously.

“That was the deal!” Tendi hisses back, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Babe I love you, but you can’t fuck with him like that.”

“And it’s okay to fuck with other people?”

“Yes!”

Sam slaps a hand to his face. “You fuck with Boimler every day of the week, Mariner.”

“That’s different!”

“How?” Tendi demands.

Mariner—the woman who had been promoted and demoted so many times that her file was longer than a goddamn Britannica, jumped head first into anything that remotely whispered of danger, fought with the Captain daily, snarked at superior officers, gave zero fucks about Starfleet protocol, and had probably, at some point, flipped off the devil—is rendered completely speechless.

Sam begins to rapidly connect some dots.

“It’s only for three weeks,” Tendi continues. “And Brad’s kinda cute, in like, an intense I have crippling anxiety way.”

“Brad?” Mariner repeats, looking horrified. “You call him Brad?”

“Yes?” Boimler says, coming up behind her. Mariner lets out an uncharacteristic shriek and jumps about a foot in the air.

“Dude what the fuck.”

Boimler looks very very confused. “What?”

“What?” Mariner repeats loudly, eyes widening.

“Brad, wanna go out?” Tendi chirps, smiling innocently at him.

Aw, and now Sam has two adorable friends who are blushing, well, adorably at each other and one friend who is having a complete mental breakdown in the background.

“What, really? I would love to—why aren’t you guys wearing any pants?” Boimler asks, exasperated.  

Tendi lets out a snicker. “Mariner.”

Boimler gives Mariner an unimpressed look. Mariner tries to glare back, but it’s weak for her standards.

“I actually just finished my shift,” he says, turning back to Tendi. “Do you want to hang out?”

While Tendi cheers enthusiastically, Sam discreetly eyes his other friend. Mariner is kind of hyperventilating in the background, hands twitching toward the half-filled bottle of vodka she and Tendi had been chugging earlier. Sam carefully inches it away, unsure if she’s going to chug the rest of it or attack someone with it.

She makes a wounded noise at Tendi, who grabs Boimler by the arm and drags him out of the room, unreservedly talking a mile a minute about something that Sam’s already lost track of.

“What the fuck just happened.”

“I think Tendi asked Boimler on a date,” Sam replies, calmly. Mariner whips her head around and stares at him. The look behind her eyes is deranged.

“We have to break them up.”

Sun, moon and stars, the next three weeks were going to be a Mariner sized nightmare.

“I don’t get it, she’s completely out of his league—”

“Not true.”

“—they have nothing in common—”

“Sometimes opposites attract.”

“—and she’s just stringing him along! She’s going to dump him in two weeks!”

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. They were about a week into Mariner’s dare and he already was ready to throw Mariner, Tendi and Boimler—poor, clueless Boimler—out of an airlock. Mariner had already tried to break the two up somewhere around two dozen times and had only succeeded in bringing them closer together.

This of course made Mariner even more determined to sabotage her friends.

“It’s not the end of the world, Mariner.”

“Of course, it is!” she hisses at him. “They break up and then I have to deal with Boimler being sad forever while also not shit-talking my best friend and not letting him know that I was the person who set them up!”

“Or they have an amicable break up and go back to being friends. Dude, they haven’t even progressed past basic hand holding. I don’t think it’s going to be a huge heart wrenching dumping.”

Boimler and Tendi enter the room, holding hands. “I feel like you’re the only one who understands me, sometimes,” Boimler says.

Mariner’s eye twitches.

“What should I get Brad for Valentines Day?” Tendi asks five days later, apropos to nothing. Mariner sits up so fast that she hits her head on the top of her bunk.

“WHAT.”

Tendi frowns over at her, looking up from her data padd. “Valentines Day? It’s a Terra Prime holiday that humans generally celebrate yearly around the Terra season of—”

“I KNOW WHAT VALENTINES DAY IS.”

Sam winces, along with the few unfortunate ensigns who happen to be in the cabin, at the volume. “You and Boimler are celebrating Valentines Day?” he weakly asks.

Tendi grins, her tongue sticking out between her teeth adorably. “He told me about it last night and asked if we could exchange gifts!”

There’s a dull thunk as Mariner repeatedly hits her head against the wall.

“Do we need to talk about this?” Sam asks, watching Mariner chug half her weight in alcohol at the bar.

“My liver, my rules.”

“Not your alcoholic diet,” Sam sighs, taking a seat and signaling to the barman. “Although I would lay off the tequila if you want to be functional tomorrow morning.”

Mariner scowls and raises the bottle to her lips again.

“I’m talking about your feelings for Boimler.”

Mariner chokes. “My fucking what.”

Sam rolls his eyes. He had hoped—for about a millisecond—that when Tendi had joined their group that someone else would finally, perhaps, have some braincells to go around, but no, it seems that Sam Rutherford is the only rational fucking person in their dysfunctional foursome.

“Don’t be the idiot you pretend to be,” he replies, calmly taking a sip of his own drink.

Mariner narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t have feelings for—”

“I’m not an idiot either, Mariner.”

“Look,” she snaps, “I’m vaguely attracted to almost everyone, it’s just who I am. I do not have feelings for Boimler, I’m just aware that he’s. Aesthetically pleasing and nice to be around.”

“Then stop acting like a crazy person whenever he tries to date anyone,” Sam snaps back. “If you’re not interested, then you need to back off.”

Mariner is quiet for a long moment. “Do you think he and D’Vana—”

“I think they enjoy each other’s company and that they’re both kind of lonely,” Sam replies, before she can finish. “If you want to know more, talk to Tendi.”

His friend nods, soberly. Sam feels kind of bad for snapping at her, but also knows that she appreciates his honesty.

“There’s worse things then falling for Boimler,” he says, nudging her encouragingly. “Even if he is a complete spaz.”

This coaxes a weak grin out of her. “He is so fucking awkward.”

“You should tell him.”

“That he’s awkward? I have, he got all fussed up and started—”

“That you like him,” Sam specifies, grinning.

Mariner, seemingly forgetting that she had just been denying her crush on their friend, protests, “He’s dating Tendi, dumbass, I’m not going to—”

“Hey, trust me on this one,” Sam says. “Just follow your instincts.”

“My instincts are telling me to desert him on an alien planet before I become too attached.”

“Follow my instincts.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Mariner does not, in fact, follow Sam’s instincts.

He isn’t there for what happens next, but hears about it from an amused Tendi who swings up into his bunk that evening to give him the lowdown.

“So, Beckett has a crush on Brad,” she says, hugging his pillow to her midsection.

Sam puts down his data padd and watches Tendi very carefully. “Oh?”

“Yep. She cornered him in the cafeteria, told him his eyes were pretty and that she liked him and then left, screeching something about sitcom-b plots and Starfleet alumni. I think she has inside jokes with herself? I’m not sure what that was about.”  

Sam can’t suppress the laugh that bubbles out of him. “God, she’s crazy. Are you okay?”

Tendi frowns, confused, at him. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Your best friend has a crush on your boyfriend?”

“My—my what? Wait, oh nine hells YOU GUYS THINK BRAD AND I ARE DATING?”

Sam has a sudden moment of clarity where he realizes that he does not, in fact, have all the braincells in their group.

“You aren’t?” he dumbly asks.

Tendi starts laughing. She laughs so hard she almost falls out of his bunk—he thankfully catches her in time, but it’s a close one. “Rutherford. Sam,” she wipes a tear away from her eyes. “I’m aromatic, you absolute complete dumbass.”

“You are?” Probably not the best reaction to his friend coming out, but Sam hardly has time to apologize, before Tendi is laughing at him again.

“Brad—well, I probably shouldn’t tell you, it’s his thing—but he kind of understands where I’m coming from. We were having friend dates.”

“But…Valentines Day,” he stresses.

Tendi rolls her eyes. “I asked Brad about Terra traditions and holidays and he gave me a fucking history lecture it was so boring. I did like the idea of Valentines Day and asked if I could partake in it with him. He suggested gift giving.”

Sam stares at her. “I am a dumbass.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I need your dumbass brain to help me get Brad and Beckett together.”

“Oh, so you do have all the braincells,” he says, grinning.

Tendi’s smile is sharp. “I have no idea what you’re on about, but yes. Yes I do.”

Getting Mariner and Boimler together is way easier said than done. Mariner is avoiding everyone like a goddamn plague and Boimler is fluctuating between literally vibrating with anxiety and being depressed as shit.  

“Well they definitely don’t have the braincells,” Sam says, after another failed attempt to trap the two of them in a room together.

“You need to stop talking about braincells,” Tendi sighs. “Why don’t we just tell them that they like each other?”

“We can’t do that!”

“Why?”

“It’s too easy that way!”

Tendi stares at him.

Sam stares back.

“I’m telling Brad that Beckett has squishy feelings for him,” she deadpans. “And you’re going to try to catch Beckett and tell him that I don’t have squishy feelings for him. And then we’re going to lock them in a goddamn turbolift until they get their freak on.”

Tendi either has all of the braincells or none of them.

Their plan surprisingly takes a whole lot less subterfuge than Sam was expecting and a lot more—well—emotions. He did manage to find Mariner and after guiltily admitting that he may have been a bit wrong about the nature of Boimler and Tendi’s relationship, she was off in a shot, shrieking some nonsense about “third-act bullshit” and how she didn’t sign up to be the “pawn in a romantic subplot.”

Mariner might, actually, be certifiably crazy. 

Brad hears about one of the turbolifts breaking from another ensign in his department. He and Tendi subtly high-five.

Six hours later—“if there was ever a time for buffer time, that time is now, Tendi”—a grinning Mariner and a mildly disheveled, exit the turbolift.

It ends like this:

Tendi is attempting to teach Sam poker. Well. It’s not actual poker, more like a hybrid of Mariner’s version of poker and a card game from Tendi’s home world, but it’s close enough and they’re having fun, so it really doesn’t matter.

Mariner is drunk as fuck, alternating between casually hitting on a flustered Boimler and insulting the shit out of anyone who even looks in their direction.

Tendi lays down her cards. Straight flush. Sam moans in despair. Boimler lets out a shriek of stop doing that we’re in public you moron and Mariner cackles in that unhinged way of hers.

None of them have the braincells.

[bamfoftheundead]

Some random drabble that came to me while I was out workin with my aunt, it all started bc I read somewhere some guy said that he "looked 30 by the time he was 16" and it reminded me of darkholme. It was suppose to be funny but it took a sad-ish turn

@mikeellee and @dannybagpipesarecalling if you're interested

Enjoy

_______________________________________________

" Uhhhh 40? 45? " Kitty answers innocently as darkholme chokes on the beer he'd been nursing for the past hour

" excuse me? WAS? did I hear you correctly? " The man chokes out as he wipes the german beer from his fur. Kitty flusters for a moment before breaking into a fit of tipsy giggles. Darkholmes jaw goes slack as the woman falls forward, arms crossed laughing flat out into the table, and at him.

" i-im sorryyyy " she squeals even harder into her arms.

Kurt's ears pull back in defense and partial embarrassment. Did he really look that old?

The jewish woman in front of him barely recovers before twisting open a new bottle and pouring its contents into her glass.

" it's just- you look much older than you are, it's probably " she fumbles to twist the cap back on " -probably the stress " finishing the bottle she tosses it into the recycling bin nearby. Darkholme deflates in place, he'd always know he'd looked older than he was, christ by the time he was 16 he'd been seen as a man in his 30s, it was irritating but he hadn't truly cared much for looks since his wife's passing. But now the newest object of his affections sat in front of him telling him how goddamn old he looked.

Kitty shakes her head to rid her drunken self of the giggles as darkholme sank into further into his chair.

" but you were always so attractive no matter- no matter what really " she hiccups as he perks up at the revelation " you have this swar- swau- SAUVE, look that makes you so goddamn foxy "

Leaning back into her chair she eyes him over and smiles, definitely a fox. Now fully re-engaged darkholme leans forward and props up his arms, eager to hear more about his apparent "foxyness"

" -and when you came out of the portal and we had that uh, that 'moment' " she awkwardly plays with her fingers as she recalls his earlier reaction. Darkholme looks away for a moment, regretful. " And after that I saw you, really saw you and I knew you were a different worlds Kurt, but like, I literally thought you were at LEAST a decade older " waving a hand is dismissal she giggles again "not that there's anything wrong with being older of course, I do like older men soooo- "

Darkholme chokes again, the statement leaves him speechless for a second moment. It wasn't like he was that much older than her! Fuck he was only a little bit older than this world's Kurt anyway, he was not old.

" your older but in like, a sexy way. It's not a b-bad thing it's just " she takes another long swig of her glass " well actually it's pretty damn hot " her blunt tone takes darkholme back for a moment as the woman squints at her empty glass, frowning she looks around for a different bottle as darkholme thinks.

Coolly the blue man leans forward and pours his own bottle into her glass, she would need to be absolutely shitfaced for their next conversation.

" Well then Katherine, tell me, why do you think I am *hot* " he knew it was a manipulative tactic but he wanted to hear the words from her. Kitty looks stumped for a moment as she drinks the rest of her glass. Slamming the cup back down the jewish woman leans her head back and stares up at the ceiling, solemnly.

" well, i- I think it's because your,,,, your you " playing with her cup she smiles as darkholmes heart stills. " It doesn't matter where or when Kurt's from it's him, it'll always be him and i ... I'll always love him " her eyes stare at the table as her tone shifts quietly.

Frowning the brunette suddenly shakes her head

" no it's not just that, not t-that. Your Kurt, you are but your you, you're darkholme, not wagner. But I- " grimacing she squeezes her glass as the man leans forward

" yes? " He asked gently, needing to hear her answer

" but I, I like you too. It doesn't matter who because I still like you, I .... might even love you "

Kitty laughs soberly as she slides a hand through her hair, laughter shifting into a sad grunt. Darkholme leans back in his chair as well, overwhelmed by his find. His heart beats painfully in his chest as he thinks carefully of his words

" it's stupid, f-e-rget it "

' NO! I mean ... It's alright, I like you too "

His tone lightens as he leans forward and gently places a hand over her own. Surprised kitty looks up and sees her reflection in the blood red eyes of her partner, her friend. Darkholme leans forward, hopeful and somewhat tipsy. Kitty freezes as he grows closer, leaning into her face and gently brushing his lips against hers. Darkholme waits for her to move, to accept what was happening and most of all, him.

Jittery she slides her thumb over his hand and kisses him. Darkholme removes his hand from hers and immediately slides a free arm around her waist. Uncomfortable with the position darkholme pulls kitty forward and watches delighted as she phases through the table. He pulls her onto his lap and holds her as tight as he can as she slides both arms around his shoulders. Pulling away he looks back into her eyes, he wouldn't let this be some drunken mishap or mistake, it had to be real. Instead pulls her close against him, pressing his face into her shoulder as she buries her face against his neck.

They sit there together for some time, not a word passes between the two. Darkholme feels a small wet sensation on his neck, she's crying. His heart freezes and doubt ravages him.

Kitty cries as she clings to the blue mutant underneath her. Fear and doubt claw their way into her mind. She thought of Kurt, her Kurt. This wasn't right, she couldn't just betray him like this. Her stomach clenched with guilt and cheap beer as her mind ran, Kurt would hate her if he'd found out about them, about darkholme. She knew it wasn't right, it shouldn't have felt so right, that she should wait for her Kurt to come back. And that's what she had been doing for so long, it hurt so much. The fear of betraying her first love, the fear is losing a second one- she couldn't take it. Kitty wasn't sure she could survive if she lost darkholme, she'd already lost Kurt and a part of herself the day the man had died but darkholme .... God she couldn't do it

She tries to pull away from his grasp -too drunk to fully rely on her mutation a second time- but the blue man resists. He holds her waist and further presses his face into her shoulder. Kitty squeezes his shirt and feels his own trembling.

As she turns to pull away she hers a sound that nearly breaks her. She feels a few drops of liquid on her shoulder -what she assumed to be beer at first- and came to the startling realization that darkholme, the god hating man was crying, he was fucking crying. No longer held back she lets herself collapse against him. His sobs are small and hard to hear but she can feel them.

Pulling back she looks at the man with watery brown eyes and gently takes his chin into her hand and guides his face. Wet golden eyes meet her own. His brow is furrowed in frustration and his fangs are made known. They see each other and kitty gently takes her other hand and slides it up his cheeks, wiping away his tears as they soak into his furry cheeks. It was obvious darkholme wasn't a crier and kitty was certain she'd never see him like this again. The things alcohol could do to a person was truly amazing. Still holding his face she pulls him close to her, his bigger nose pressing into the corner of hers as their lips meet again.

This time kitty doesn't let go, his fangs press against her bottom lip and she doesn't let go. Darkholme slides a hand through her hair, keeping the other firmly around her waist to ground himself. The two mutants sit together like this for some time, taking in their presence and filling themselves with each other.

Darkholme holds her this time, he doesn't push her away, he doesn't yell, he doesn't let go.

" I may even love you as well, kätzchen "

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 50)

Description: Tahira awakens! And she has a plan. 

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 50: Between the Cracks

Tahira

I can't breathe...I can't breathe! I push against the Endless' grip, trying to reach the surface, but she only holds me tighter.

“It's all right, Tahira. It's all right. Just watch.”

The images are still coming. Quinn Kelly, motionless on a bed her hands folded in a funereal pose atop a large, shining stone. She turns into Alodia, clutching the Prism Crystal, but she's no longer lying in repose. Her face is twisted with fury, her eyes gleaming fuschia with the Crystal's power as she attacks an unseen opponent. I can't breathe. I want to get out. Someone get me out of here! I flail, pounding the Endless' arms feebly with my fists. I can't perceive the images anymore. There's only a vague itch at the edge of my mind, telling me that I know something that I didn't know before.

“Tahira...?” I don't recognize the voice at first, but everything around me is fading. The images. The Endless. The ocean. Then, as I finally draw in a desperate breath, I feel something warm and soft on my cheek. “Tahira, baby, can you hear me?”

“...Mom...?” I realize that I have my eyes closed. I open them carefully, squinting against a sudden assault of florescent light. A figure, blurry but definitely my mother, hovers over me. I hear her choke on a sob as she strokes and kisses my face.

“Oh, baby, thank God!”

I become aware of a pressure on my hand, and turn to see Grayson perched on the edge of my bed, holding my hand. His clothes and hair are rumpled, and there's a layer of fuzz on his face like he hasn't shaved in a day or two.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks anxiously.

“Got stabbed,” I mumble. My mind feels surprisingly clear, but it's taking my body a bit to catch up, I think, because my tongue feels heavy.

“Yeah. The surgery went well, but you took awhile to wake up afterwards. You had us worried. How are you feeling now?”

“Fine,” I answer without really taking stock. As soon as I say it, I realize that my side still feels like it's on fire. But I feel fairly confident I'll heal quickly now that I'm awake. “...Alodia...she was abducted...”

Mom and Grayson exchange a look of mild surprise.

“...Yeah...” Grayson confirms. “And Diego. How did...?”

“Crystal stuff. I'll explain later. ...I gotta talk to the Catalysts. I think I might have an idea about finding her.”

* * *

“You want to...use the Prism Crystal to find Alodia?”

It feels risky to be on a video call with all the Catalysts plus my team while I'm still in my hospital room, but I've got Grayson standing guard, ready to signal me if any staff get too close.

“Hear me out here. Quinn, when you were...possessed by Vaanu, you could feel the Island's Heart, right? You could feel where it was?”

“Vaguely,” Quinn confirms. “I could feel it pulling me toward the other half.”

“And there were other instances of the crystals leading you places, right?”

“Quarr'tel,” Jake says, nodding. “They slipped a crystal into Raj's pocket and it lit up like a firefly when we were headed in the right direction.”

“And when we had three of them staked together, they literally just showed us the path when we looked through them.”

“The Prism Crystal is specifically Alodia's life essence. But it didn't react until I came in contact with it as her blood relative. Maybe that connection will help me use it to track her.”

“I believe your idea could work in theory,” Varyyn says cautiously. “...I would be extremely hopeful, if not for the fact that her abductors have managed to block her psychic link with me. Suppose they have figured out a way to block any link with her that the Prism Crystal might give to you? What if that was a function of the poison you were dosed with?”

“It might well be,” I admit. “But what do we have to lose by trying?”

“Nothing,” Jake says. “If anything, we'd be failing Alodia and Diego by not trying. If there's even a chance it could get them back sooner...”

“I'm not disagreeing with you, Jake,” Dax chimes in, “But there are a few logistical problems to consider. For one thing, Tahira, you're still in the hospital with an abdomen full of stitches. Even with your enhanced healing, it's going to be a process. You won't do anyone any good if you tear out your stitches and bleed out searching for Alodia and Diego. Two, this isn't La Huerta, where you guys were on your own with only Vaanti authority to deal with. If this works, how do we explain it? How do we explain Dragonness disappearing after these two people she presumably has no connection to, and how do we explain how she found them without giving away too much?”

I wave a hand impatiently. “We'll chalk it up to a mystery of the Prism Crystal and assure the public that we're looking into why the Crystal led me to these people. The public have been remarkably accepting of the idea that the Prism Crystal turned people into superheroes.”

“But why Alodia and Diego in particular? Why not any of the other thousands of missing persons in the US? Why would the Prism Crystal choose two people who went missing in California when it's on the East Coast?”

“You're overthinking this,” Jake says. “Look, my sister's a cop. People go missing every day, and most of them don't get half the attention Alodia and Diego have gotten. The only reason they're getting as much media attention as they are is because they were on the La Huerta trip, and the fact that Alodia's pregnant makes people more sympathetic. Once they're safe home, the media and the cops ain't gonna care too much about how they got there.”

“I can't say that I completely agree,” Poppy says. “I know I'm only a fashion journalist, but that doesn't mean I don't know how the media works. Alodia and Diego are still high-profile people, and there are high-profile people involved in their kidnapping. Dax is right. If this does work like we want it to, we do need to consider how we're going to spin it so that the attention doesn't go anywhere we don't want it to.”

“Let's not get too far ahead of the game,” Michelle cautions. “Dax is also right that Tahira needs a little time to recover before she's fit to go chasing anyone down.”

“Simple solution to that,” Jake declares. “If she gets a lead off the Prism Crystal, I'm going with her.”

I try not to grimace outwardly. I should have seen this coming. “Jake...you know I'll be faster on my own. Considering that I can fly without a plane.”

“Not while you've still got a hole in your gut. If this is gonna work, we don't have a lot of time for you to be on bed-rest here. We got a small window, and it's closing fast.”

Michelle nods. “Jake is right. Whether we find her or the authorities do, we really don't have time to just wait if we're going to take any action. She's due in a matter of weeks, and we can't assume she won't go into labor early. At the same time, Tahira, you can't just go on your own in your present condition. Apart from the stab wound, we don't know if that poison is fully out of your system. So, I'll come too.”

“Can the hospital spare you?”

“I've still technically got a week and change of vacation I haven't used, and I haven't officially put myself back on the schedule yet.”

“Well, you know I'm not letting you go without me,” Sean says firmly, taking his wife's hand. “I can't. Not just now.”

“I expected as much, and I won't argue.”

“I will go as well,” Varyyn declares. “Not least because my partner is among the missing, but also because if Alodia or I somehow managed to break through the barrier they've put on our psychic link, it would not do for me to be miles away.”  

I sigh. This is kinda turning into a plan for the world's most batcrap-crazy road trip, but I honestly can't say that I mind. In fact, I feel a wry smile tugging at my mouth. “...Anyone else want to join in?”

“You know Kenji and I are at your disposal,” Eva says, winking. But I shake my head at that suggestion.

“No, not you two. Someone needs to stay to protect Northbridge. We can't just leave DA Katsaros completely high and dry and expect to stay on her good side, especially given the situation with Caleb and the kids.”

“I'll come instead,” Estela says. “In case you need another fighter.”

“I'm rather handy with a fencing sword,” Aleister offers a bit reluctantly. But his sister shakes her head.

“Stay with your wife and son. There will be enough lonely doves among the Catalysts as is, and you and Zahra need to look after the company and field any questions from the authorities.”

“Besides that, we should keep our numbers as small as possible,” I point out. “Even if I can't go on my own, we will go faster the fewer we are.”

“In the meantime, what should the rest of us be doing?” Raj asks. “I mean, I'm good to stay in California if that's where I'm most needed...”

“We'd appreciate that,” Jake agrees. “Keep looking after our folks for us. I'll see if I can send Rebecca back with our parents, but it's possible they won't be willing to leave me alone unless I bring her with me.”

“Well...I guess we're mostly settled then. We can work out the necessary details once I'm discharged.”

“That's assuming this really works...” Aleister says soberly. “We've begun speaking of it as a certainty...”

For a moment, no one says anything. I hear myself speak first. “We'll know that as soon as I'm discharged, too.”

Jake

I'm not surprised when my parents are reluctant to let me go to Northbridge without them. I'm an adult, they say, and they can't stop me, but they do their best to discourage it. I don't hold it against them. I've disappeared on them too many times for them not to be nervous, even after I promise to check in with them. As I predicted, it's Rebecca's promise to go with me and keep an eye on me that finally convinces them to go back to California and look after Alodia's parents. I vow to go back there myself if Tahira's idea with the Crystal doesn't pan out, though of course I don't say that to my parents. I need them to think my visit to Northbridge is open-ended.

The meager bags Mike and I packed for what we expected to be a night or two away from home were retrieved from the motel we were staying at the night before our abduction. By now, I've been discharged and Mike's finally in recovery after surgery, so I bring him his bag as an excuse to visit before I take off. I wouldn't normally think I needed an excuse to visit, but the hospital staff are still hovering like flies, and the pretense of dropping off the bag gets me access to his parents, who manage to finagle a few minutes for Mike and me to talk privately.

He turns his head toward me as I slip into the room and smiles wanly. He looks pale and exhausted, and he's still got an IV in the crook of his arm, but he's awake and propped up on his pillows. Still, the sheet below his thighs is flat over the mattress. I pull up a chair beside him.

“How're you feeling, kid?”

“...You know those old clothes press things that they used to feed clothes through after they were washed to get all the water out? In the olden days before washers and dryers?”

“I think I know what you mean. I think they were called 'mangles'.”

“Appropriate name. Anyway, I feel like I've gone through one of those.”

I cover his hand with mine and nod down at the flat sheet beneath his thighs. “No new legs yet?”

“Apparently they gotta let the nerves heal or something first. I dunno. They got some metal things on the stumps to keep 'em fresh or whatever. The science blinded me a little. All I really know is they hurt like a bitch.”

“Fuck.” I squeeze his hand. “Sure feels like a shit time for me to be taking off...”

“Where are you heading?”

“Northbridge. ...It's not looking like Alodia and Diego were on the island. But Tahira has an idea to track Alodia using the Prism Crystal. Hopefully it works, and hopefully where we find Alodia, we find Diego.”

“No question you gotta go, then. Not like you'd be doing much good bumming around the hospital with me.”

“Probably not. ...Don't know how much good I'll be doing following Tahira around, either. But if there's even a chance of finding her...”

“You don't have to explain. We both know where you're most needed right now.” He turns his hand over to grip mine, his eyes finding my gaze and holding it. “Find your wife. Bring her home.”

* * *

Rebecca, Varyyn, and I get a private flight to Northbridge, compliments of Aleister and Estela, of course. I'm glad not to be in the pilot's chair on this one. I'm probably still not totally clear to operate heavy machinery after that blow to the head, and I'm not sure I could concentrate, even if I were. Problem is that I can't really sit still, either. I know I shouldn't be wandering more than necessary while the plane's in the air, but I feel like I'm gonna lose my shit if I try to stay seated too long. Predictably, Varyyn is perfectly still—almost stoic. Though I know him better than to assume he's not just as much of a hot mess as I am right now.

“...How're you holding up, Varyyn?” I ask, as much to distract myself as to check in.

“As well as you, I expect,” he sighs. “...I am afraid. I am afraid this will not work. I am afraid of what they might be suffering right now. ...I am afraid that if this does work, we will find Alodia alone and have nothing left to lead us to Diego.”

I grit my teeth, shaking my head hard. “Won't be like that, Varyyn. Don't think like that. They're together. They gotta be together.”

“...We don't know that,” he says softly. “We hope it. But do we really have any evidence that it is true?”

“Why else would they have taken Diego?” I demand. “They weren't together at the time of the abduction, so it wasn't just convenience like with Sean and Michelle. No offense to Diego, but I don't think Rourke really has much use for him in this timeline. He probably doesn't have much use for any of the Catalysts besides Alodia anymore, except to control her. And maybe Diego is useful if he wanted to bait you for some reason, but even then, wouldn't it still make more sense to keep them together, since you could track her if they hadn't blocked it somehow...”

“...It all makes sense...” he admits. “...I just...I can't help but fear...”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. “Of course not. I won't lie, it scares me, too. ...But it makes more sense that they're together. Remember that.”

He nods. “...I feel powerless. I should be able to reach them. I should at least be able to speak to her and confirm that they are unharmed...”

“We all feel powerless here,” Rebecca says. “I'm a detective. I should be able to track and investigate. But because it's a member of my own family, I'm not allowed to help...” She trails off, and the silence that follows is heavy. I think we all want to try and say something comforting or optimistic here, but there's not really anything to say that we haven't already said. We all feel powerless. There's a chance that when we get to Northbridge, we'll have our path made clear for us, but there aren't any guarantees. If this doesn't work...what next?

Grayson

“Are you sure you're up for this, Tahira? You only got out of the hospital yesterday...”

Tahira grits her teeth as she carefully makes her way to her dresser, using crutches to support most of her weight and to keep her stitches from tearing. She's healing fast. Fast enough that eyebrows were raised at the hospital. But not fast enough to have her in fighting shape yet, and she's clearly still in pain. Michelle has cautioned her against heavy lifting, even with her super strength. The only way we were able to confirm that her strength was still intact was by having her bend an iron bar that Dax brought over from the lab. Flying, too, is out right now, though she is still capable of it.

“If this works,” Michelle said last night, “You're basically going to be our tracker, at least for a few days. Let the rest of us do most of the work until I give you the all-clear.”

I cautiously place my hand between her shoulderblades and let my palm move in slow, gentle circles. When she doesn't pull away, I increase the pressure just a little.

“When a person goes missing, the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial,” she says lowly. “...That window has already closed. There's no more time to waste. What we have is already borrowed.”

She pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans from her drawer, and maneuvers herself to take off her pajama top. I sigh.

“Here, let me help you with that. I can't really help with the rescue mission, but I can help you get dressed for it.”

“I think providing us with travel vehicles is extremely helpful,” she says, smiling a little as she carefully raises her arms over her head to let me take her shirt off. I help her on with her clothes, finishing just as the buzzer to her apartment door sounds.

“Tahira? It's Eva and Kenji!” I go to let them in as Tahira settles herself down on the couch. Kenji grins at her as they walk in.

“How's our fearless leader doing? You look like you'll be ready to kick ass again in no time.”

“With any luck, I will at least be ready to do my part when we finally track down Alodia and Diego. Do you have the Crystal, Eva?”

“Haven't let it outta my sight since Caleb tipped us off it they were going after it,” she replies with a mischievous smile, trailing a finger over the chain around her neck. My eyes follow her finger down to where her low-cut top clearly reveals that the pendant on the end is nestled between her breasts. Tahira makes a face as Eva draws the Prism Crystal out of her cleavage.

“That cannot be comfortable...”

Eva shrugs. “You get used to it. Besides....” She grins, waggling her eyebrows. “No way anyone gets to it without me noticing.”

“Yeah, but have you been, like, showering with it in there? Sleeping?”

“Not like water will hurt it. And like I said, you get used to it.”

Tahira rolls her eyes, smirking a little. “Still...maybe I should ask you to wipe off the boob sweat before I try to do anything with it.”

“Tahira, I'm insulted. The very suggestion that I would ever break a sweat...” But she does grab a washcloth out of the basket of clean laundry beside the dresser and rub it over the crystal before handing it to Tahira. “So...what are you going to do with it exactly?”

“I'll start with holding it. Then...I guess I'll think about Alodia...” She shakes her head with a frustrated sigh. “...I'm flying mostly blind here...”

As she closes her hand around the Crystal, we fall silent, not wanting to risk disrupting her concentration. How long will it take, I wonder, before we know if anything is going to happen? I don't have to wonder long. In fact, the thought is barely out of my head before the crystal begins to glow brighter. I hold my breath. For a moment, everything is still except for the bright purple flame dancing beneath the Crystal's surface. Then Tahira's eyes fly open and she gasps softly. I instinctively rush to her side.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

“I'm okay...” she replies dazedly. “...I...think...”

“Did you see anything?” Eva asks. “Do you know where Alodia is?”

“Not exactly, but...” She looks down at the Crystal balanced on her palm, softly pulsing with fuschia light. “I did see her. In flashes. And...I think...”

She stands up and turns a slow circle, keeping her eye on the Crystal. I watch it carefully. It takes a few more circles before I realize what's actually happening, but when I do notice, I feel my heart skip a beat.

“Tahira! The light!”

“Yes!” Tahira cries eagerly, a grin splitting her face! “It dims, except when I start facing this direction! ...What direction am I facing?”

“Northwest-ish,” Kenji says. “Which probably means she isn't on the island...”

Tahira nods. “...If she's even what the Crystal is pointing toward. ...Either way, it's our best lead so far.

* * *

A few more little experiments prove that using the Crystal as a tracking device is a viable option. Although it goes dull when I touch it, Kenji and Eva can both make it react—as can Varyyn and any Catalysts who come in contact with it. And the pulsing light consistently gleams when the one holding it is facing northwest, dimming as they turn south. As soon as is humanly possible, Tahira and her team gather with me and a handful of the Catalysts in the empty executive level of the Prescott Industries parking garage. Two seven-seater SUVs that I rented are the only two vehicles in the place.

“They're both fueled up,” I assure Tahira. “Tire pressure has been checked and there are spares, jacks, and tire irons under the floors.”

“There are also pillows and blankets so you can sleep and drive in shifts and not have to stop as often,” Dax says. “I've also fitted the cars with adaptable communicators so you can communicate through the radios, just in case everyone's cell phones die at the same time. Do you know who's going to be in what car?”

“I'll be with Sean, Tahira, and Jake,” Michelle says. “Since Tahira and Jake aren't cleared to drive just yet, Sean will take the first shift, and Tahira will hold the Crystal to navigate.”

“And Varyyn, Rebecca, and I will follow in the vehicle behind,” Estela adds.

Michelle nods. “I've also got a medical tote stocked. No one mess with that, please. It's not your standard first aid kit. I've also got some sterile towels and blankets double-wrapped in plastic, so hands off those, too. If we find Alodia close to giving birth, we'll need clean towels to lay down for her and something to wrap the baby in.”

“There are also coolers of water, fruit, sandwiches, and about twenty pounds of trail mix,” Quinn adds. “It's not Raj's cooking, and it obviously won't last, but it should mean you don't have to stop for food for a handful of days.”

“I guess we're all set then,” Tahira says. “There's no time to lose. Everyone pile in.”

“Wait...” I catch her hand as she turns toward the car, and pull her in for a kiss, holding her mouth with mine as if I can store up enough of her taste on my lips to tide me over until she gets back. I break away reluctantly and press my forehead to hers. “Good luck. I love you.”

Eva

Kenji and I meet at his apartment that evening. We don't exactly feel safe going back to the clocktower right now, but we don't have a new base of operations yet, either.

“...How much does Caleb actually know now?” I ask him over a cup of heavily-sugared coffee.

“Almost everything. He knows our powers are connected to our DNA, which is connected to the island of La Huerta and a crystal alien that crash-landed here however many billion years ago. He knows that Alodia is that alien's daughter and that Tahira is Alodia's cousin. ...I also basically confirmed that most of what Rourke told him in those interviews is true.”

“And...where is he now?”

Kenji shrugs, talking a long swallow from his coffee mug. “Processing, I guess. He says he can't go back to Gigi anymore. And based on the way their last encounter went, I'm not surprised.”

“And you don't have any reason to think it might be a trick?”

“Just doesn't add up to a trick,” he admits. “He told me he'd originally told Gigi he was going to try to get in good with us to get information out of us, which I know was true. ...But if he was never actually going to turn on her, he probably would have done something to keep us from securing the Prism Crystal once he realized we knew she was going after it. Plus, she was angry enough to try and frame him for burning down the priest's house.”

“...He's out of the hospital, by the way. Don't know where he's living with his house burned out, though.”

“No sign of the kids, either. ...Maybe he's gone after them.”

“Quite honestly, I hope he has. Scoundrel he may be, but I think his intentions towards the kids are good. At least good enough that I'd rather they have him in their corner than be wandering around out there alone. Especially given what's going on now.”

Kenji smiles wryly. “They will have to come back eventually, won't they? Since you still have their dog.”

I snort. “Good luck making me give up that puppy. I think we've bonded.”

“You'll give her up the moment one of those sweet little kids flashes sad doe eyes at you.”

“...Yeah, probably,” I admit. “My cold heart has been defrosting lately. Maybe proof that there's hope for Caleb.”

“There had better be. ...Because if we can't actually trust him, we might be screwed.”

Estela

I am in the office with Aleister and Zahra when the phone on the desk rings. It just barely registers at first, like an acquaintance I give a nod to as I pass on the street. Aleister picks it up.

“Aleister Rourke speaking,” he mutters absently. Then his posture changes. I take notice as he sits up a little straighter. “Raj, hello. Has there been any news.”

My heart wedges in my throat as I sit up to attention. Zahra visibly stiffens as well, her eyebrows knitting as she meets my gaze with anxiety flickering in her dark eyes. Aleister's eyes widen.

“What? Are they sure it's the same one?...” His shoulders sag slightly as he listens to Raj's extended reply. “...Dammit. Does Jake know? ...What are they planning to do?”

There's a longer pause now. Aleister's expression is difficult to read. Zahra stands up from her desk, then awkwardly hovers there as if she's not sure she should come closer.

“...I expect that is the wisest course of action. If the Crystal can track Alodia directly, it would be a waste of time to chase down a lead like that. ...I see. ...Of course. I'll make sure everyone is updated. Thank you. ...I will. ...Goodbye.” He replaces the receiver on the cradle and looks up at me and Zahra in turn. “...That was Raj. The police believe they have found the stolen ambulance that Alodia and Diego were transported in, but it has since been abandoned. They were able to determine that a helicopter took off nearby and they believe Alodia and Diego were on board, but from there, they're having difficulty picking up the trail.”

Zahra and I exchange anxious glances. “...Where was the ambulance found?”

“Cascade mountain range in Oregon. Near Crater Lake.”

“Oregon!” Zahra gasps. “They drove a stolen ambulance from southern California to the Cascade mountains in Oregon and no one noticed until now?!”

“Raj tells me the region around Crater Lake is fairly remote.”

“Maybe, but...” Zahra is already tapping furiously on her phone. After a moment, she turns the screen toward us. “Look, the fastest path to Crater Lake from Riverside is about a twelve-hour drive, straight up through California.”

“They were driving an ambulance,” I point out. “If they had the lights and sirens going, they would have been able to speed and run red lights with impunity. Few people are going to want to impede an ambulance that they think is on the way to save someone's life. Even with the authorities knowing they were likely in a stolen ambulance, I can believe they got as far as Oregon without anyone wanting to risk stopping them. Especially if they swapped the license plate.”

“They still would have needed to stop for gas at some point. And twelve hours trapped in a vehicle can't be good for a pregnant woman. We're still operating under the assumption that Rourke wants Alodia and her baby alive, right?”

“It makes the most sense,” Aleister confirms. “If he just wanted her dead, there are easier ways than kidnapping.”

“What else do we actually know? They found the stolen ambulance, but are they sure Alodia and Diego were inside?”

“They found more than a few hairs inside the vehicle. They matched DNA samples from both Alodia and Diego.”

I nod. “...From what I overheard, I'm guessing Jake and the others aren't going to try to find them in Oregon.”

He shakes his head. “It would be a waste of time, driving some place they have already been removed from when they believe the Prism Crystal can lead them to where Alodia is currently.”

“Why Oregon, though? Why not the island? Why was the Crystal leading them northwest instead of toward the island?”

“...I don't know, Estela. The truth is that we don't know for sure that they don't mean for her to eventually wind up on the island. Maybe the plan is to throw us off the trail.”

I sit back with a frustrated sigh. “...It always feels like our dear father is ten steps ahead of us. The only person who has ever really managed to get the better of him was Alodia when she chose to sacrifice herself for the world.”

“Not entirely true,” Zahra mutters. “...I shot him in at least one timeline.”

“He is a genius and a master manipulator, but he is still human,” Aleister says firmly. “And humans are flawed enough to be outsmarted. Sooner or later, he will make a mistake. I am sure of it.”

Alodia

Something doesn't feel right here. I'm in Elyys'tel. The armor of Andromeda encases my body and gleams gold in the Caribbean sunset. Beneath it, I am wearing my Vaanti warrior's attire. In my hands, I clutch the mask I won in the Valinorim. One hand drifts towards my chest, and my fingers brush the cold metal dogtags that hang on a ball-chain around my neck. My chest is tight, and my head throbs with grief, but I don't cry. I can't cry.

“This isn't going to help, Alodia,” Aleister says solemnly from behind me.

“...They're all dead, Aleister,” I hear myself reply coldly. “He killed them all. Maybe not directly, but he's responsible for all of their deaths.”

“I don't disagree. But killing him won't bring them back.”

I turn to face him, fully prepared to chew him out for his platitudes when he should want his father dead as much as I do. But then I realize what is actually happening.

“...You're going to say that if I insist on joining the battle, you're going to come with me.”

“Of course I am. We're the last Catalysts left. I'm not going to abandon you.”

“...No. You're not. You didn't even betray us this time. You played your father as a double agent. ...When Zahra blew up the MASADA complex, Jake tried to save me. But he was killed in the process and you got me out instead.”

Aleister doesn't seem put off by my explaining what must be recent history to him. “I'm going to die in the coming battle. I have learned that you're the one my father needs to complete his Janus Project. I don't know why yet, but I know that much. I die to keep you from falling into his hands.”

“...And then I bury the last of my family. And I die...and the timeline resets because I can't let it end like this...I can't let any of you die...”

Aleister reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder. “You can't change what's already happened, Alodia.”

“...I don't want to watch it happen again...”

“You don't have to. You know that.” His eyes flick downward. “Don't waste your time on a battle that's already been fought when you have a much more important one to worry about in the here and now.”

I follow his gaze downward, and dark static floods my vision.

The soft flutter of tiny limbs inside me brings me back to consciousness. The pressure on my bladder is unbearable. I push back the itchy blanket that barely keeps out the cold and struggle off the cheap cot I fell asleep on. The thin plastic mattress creaks as I get to my feet, and I hear a gasp and small movement from the cot beside me.

“Allie...?” Diego's voice is anxious, but still clumsy with sleep.

“I'm okay,” I call back. “I just need to pee.”

I make my way to the corner. We've been moved again. There's no en suite toilet in this concrete basement we've been stuck in this time. Only a plastic toddler toilet—the kind Jake and I will be buying in another year or two. ...That is...if I ever see him again... If we ever get to go back to our home in California and lay our daughter in her crib in her jungle-themed nursery...

Lowering myself onto the seat is an arduous and undignified process. I feel tears on my cheeks by the time I manage to relieve myself, and my hand trembles as I wipe with a cheap, rough paper towel—the only thing we've been provided with. By the time I have gotten through the equally undignified process of standing back up and dragging my gray sweatpants back up over my bulging waistline, I am sobbing. I only get a few steps closer to my cot before Diego takes me in his arms and gently draws me against him. I bury my face in his shoulder. When he leans his head against mine, I feel the subtle prickle of facial hair where his cheek briefly brushes my ear.

He doesn't say anything. Our supply of comforting words has all but dried up. Escape seems impossible with me as I am, especially when we don't have any idea how many of them are actually guarding us or how far we are from civilization. We've all but admitted aloud that rescue is our only hope.

I don't want to obey them. I want to defy them. I want to fight them tooth and nail. But I can't fight them while I am sheltering a child within me. And disobedience only gets Diego hurt. So far, the damage has not been permanent. But I don't know if I can keep him safe indefinitely, even if I kill any will to fight that might be left in me.

It's only a matter of time. If help doesn't come for us, it's only a matter of time before they break me.

Diego

I wish I had access to a razor. Or some scissors. The scissors more than the razor, I think. I don't really mind the growth of hair over my face as much as the hair on my head, which is shaggy enough now to get into my eyes, but not long enough to hook behind my ears. It's funny the things I think about when I'm trying not to break apart.

I'm scared. I'm really scared. I'm scared for Allie. I'm scared for her baby. I'm scared for myself. I'm scared of the fact that I can't rely on Allie right now like I almost always could before. It's not her fault, of course. She just needs me to be the brave one right now, and that terrifies me. But damned if I'm not going to do it. Damned if I'm not going to swallow my fear and hold her hand to get her through this nightmare. Damned if I'm not going to look for an opportunity to escape at every new prison they move us to. I know our best option is probably going to be to wait for someone to find us. But I have to keep watching. It helps me keep it together.

We're bound and blindfolded every time they move us. Sometimes we travel by chopper, sometimes by car or van or whatever they're driving. Maybe an ambulance again. We're not long in the concrete basement prison, which I appreciate, because it's really freaking uncomfortable. It's some kind of van that moves us this time. At least we're actually seated and buckled in this time, even if our hands end up tied to what I think must be the handles of the hooks a lot of cars have on the ceiling for hanging up dress clothes.

“Hey, Allie...” I say lightly, turning my head vaguely toward the weight on the seat beside me. “Is there a name for these things we're tied up to?”

I don't know if there's a partition between us and the drivers. I don't know if they can hear us. I am guessing there aren't any windows to either side of us since two people blindfolded in the back seat with their hands tied to the ceiling would probably be conspicuous. But if the driver can hear us, I don't want them to hear us scared.

“I...I don't know,” she replies. Her voice shakes a little, but she's trying to sound nonchalant, so it seems she's picked up what I'm putting down here. “Dress hooks, I guess? Handles? Before cars had seatbelts, some of them had handles for passengers to hold onto, but I don't think there was any special name for them.”

“Where do you think we're going this time? Another nice farmhouse?”

“I hope so. The farmhouse has definitely been my favorite on this vacation. The last place was shit, though.”

“Total shit,” I agree.

We let our conversation be sparse after that, and when we do speak, it's about silly memories from our childhood. We try to remember the rules to a game our first grade P.E. teacher had taught to the class that was like a slightly more complicated version of group tag, except it involved us all playing characters from Star Wars. We try to name all the seasons of Power Rangers that we grew up with. We try to recite the poems we had to memorize for our last literature class in high school.

Allie is nearly through Rudyard Kipling when the van stops and the engine turns off. Although my adrenaline spikes, I can't help but feel a little relieved, too. My hands are starting to go numb. I'm cut loose and I flex my fingers a few times, hissing softly as the feeling floods back into them. I don't resist as they hustle me out of the van and into whatever prison awaits us now. The air outside is bitingly cold, and the ground beneath my feet is hard. The sound my shoes make slapping against it makes me think pavement. Then, the cold air is replaced by surprisingly pleasant warmth. Central heating. A good sign. A less good sign is the way the soles of my shoes are squeaking and sticking against the floor now. I'm thinking this is tile I'm walking on.

We are finally allowed to stop, and my blindfold is removed. The florescent light might as well be sunlight for a moment, but when my eyes start to adjust, a deep, cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

The windowless room we're in resembles a doctor's office, with an exam table, cabinets, a sink, and medical instruments hanging from the wall. There are no decorations, though. Nothing to make it welcoming. Which makes the woman standing beside the exam table in full surgical gear—including goggles—all the more ominous. I can't really see anything about what she looks like. I mean, I can tell she's white, and her eyes look brown behind the goggles, but the blue surgical cap isn't giving me a good look at her hair color, and average height aside, I can't tell anything about her build under the shapeless surgical gown.

I don't like where this is going one bit. Neither does Allie judging by her sharp gasp as she takes in the scene. I press close to her, putting my arms protectively around her.

“What is this?!” I demand. “What are you doing?! Who is she?!”

The strange woman spreads her hands, taking a cautious step toward us. “Calm down, Alodia. I am not here to hurt you. I only want to give you a proper exam.”

Allie grips my arm. “Bullshit,” she hisses.

“Watch it, brat!” Fiddler snaps. “Unless you want your friend to suffer for your rudeness.”

“Stay your hand, Jeanine,” the surgeon-woman says mildly. “Just this once, let's try to work with Alodia instead of against her. I am sure she can be made to see reason here without resorting to violence against Diego.”

I can't figure out what it is, but there is something about her voice. My anxiety is ebbing away as I rack my brain trying to place it, but I'm still alert enough to keep my arms firmly around Allie, who glares at the woman.

“Don't touch me!” she snarls.

“I will not touch you if you don't want me to,” the woman promises. “But it would be in your best interests and your baby's best interests to let me give you an examination. Why don't we make a deal, hmm? Jeanine and her soldiers wait outside. Diego can stay in here with you. And you and I can figure out from there how close you want me to get. Sound good?”

“Hardly!” Fiddler scoffs before Allie can answer. “Leave these two alone in here with you? With no one to make sure they don't stab you with your own scalpel?”

“I don't have a scalpel in here, Jeanine,” the woman replies, sounding amused. “And killing me would hardly do them any good with you and your troops standing outside the only exit. Lock the door if it makes you feel better. I will knock when we're finished. ...What do you say to that, Alodia?”

Allie hesitates, looking uncertainly at me. I shrug helplessly. This is crazy. This is totally crazy. Somehow, Rourke has hired an evil obstetrician who is apparently totally okay with the fact that Fiddler and her goons have kidnapped a pregnant woman, but still wants to act like a not-evil doctor by respecting patient boundaries? I can't even comprehend the level of insane that is happening in front of me right now, and I once fought an actual three-headed sea monster. But what kind of choice do we actually have here? This weird woman's offer certainly sounds preferable to any possible alternative. Allie seems to agree, because she slowly nods.

“Excellent. It's decided then. Jeanine, if you would be so kind as to clear out and give the patient a little privacy?”

Fiddler looks like she's going to argue at first, but then she purses her lips, turns on her heel, and stalks out with her goons following behind her. The woman goes to shoo them out, and that's when I see it: a barely detectable green shimmer at the edge of her mask.

Before I can quite process what I've just seen, I hear the door lock from the outside, and the woman turns back to us.

“All right. Now that we have a little privacy...”

The woman touches the stud sparkling in her earlobe, and her white skin dissolves into green as her holographic disguise melts away. She pulls off her surgical cap, revealing her hair underneath—half-lavender and half-bubblegum pink—swept back into a french braid. Now I know why her voice sounded so familiar.

“...Clockmaker...?!”

[wordsfromthesol]

Vengeance (2/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary:  Your family had lived in Gotham longer than you can remember. At this point, it was about pride, you weren’t going to let anyone bully out of your own town. So, when your sister got engaged, that did not stop the festivities from being held in Gotham. The night of her bachelorette party was one you will never forget.   Warnings: Language, death Word Count: 1.5k A/N: Y/S/N = Your sister’s name

Part One 

“Y/N, there is another way. We could just prove he killed your sister. Give the evidence to the cops…”

You looked at him with hope in your eyes. As much as you hated this man, you couldn’t seem to fathom yourself killing someone. You remembered watching the life faded from your sister’s eyes. What if you had been the cause? You could really live with that?

“Are you…uhm…are you sure he would be put away for good.”

The masked figure turned towards you, “I have an inside man, I can guarantee it.” You nodded and motioned for him to follow you away from the Dolan’s apartment. Entering your apartment, you sat down on the couch, motioning for this vigilante to do the same.

“So how do we do this?”

“Y/N, if this is what you want, I can do it all. I mean he killed your sister with a gun and there are two witnesses, it’s a closed case.”

“I don’t…I don’t just want to stand by though.”

Seeing there was no way to get through to you, he took off his mask. As a native Gotham citizen, you immediately recognized the man sitting before you. The mysterious Jason Todd, the second adopted orphan of Bruce Wayne, the one that had mysteriously disappeared and then turned up dead.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck?! You’re Jason, are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Clearly, doll, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, but like what the actual fuck?”

“Well, everything I told you was true. So as you know, my adopted big brother is Dick Grayson, aka Bludhaven PD’s finest. He knows of my exploits and will make sure Dolan goes away for the rest of his life.”

“I still…I need to do something.”

“A public statement would ensure his imprisonment.” Jason suggested.

You nodded and agreed to meet him the following morning at the Bludhaven police department.

Red Hood did not show up, instead you saw Jason dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, a baseball hat, and sunglasses walking towards you. He looped his arm within yours while saying, “Remember, everyone thinks I’m dead. If I want to go out it has to be as a faceless man.”

In a way you felt bad for him, he was never able to show his face, in fear that old enemies would arise. Or the mysterious force that brought him back to life would come to collect their bounty. Yet still you gazed at him in awe, the courage and conviction it took to come here, to help someone he barely knew get justice. It inspired you to be better. You walked with your head held high into the police department, demanding to speak with Detective Richard Grayson. It only took a few moments for a man to come and greet you and Jason.

“I hear you requested me,” he glanced at Jason and realized the importance of the matter, “what can I help you with?”

“Well, I watched my sister get killed by Dolan Ramin, and I would much prefer if he went to jail as opposed to me killing him.”

“Hmm…yes, I think we would all prefer that. I will file a report, but can I speak with,” he specifically eyed his brother, “the both of you later.”

Ignoring the tension between the two, you piped in, “Yes of course, you can reach me at (603) 985-2364.” You didn’t wait for him to write it down, but somehow you knew that wouldn’t matter.

Somehow you spent the entire night on your living room couch armed with several bottles of wine discussing your life with Jason Todd. Honestly, he had surprised you with how open he was, though he had warned it was the alcohol talking and this wasn’t his usual demeanor.

Several months passed and you continued your relationship with Jason, however the case on your sister did not seem to be progressing at all and you continuously grew more agitated. One night, Jason crept through your window after patrol and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Jason, it’s been months. Dolan still roams free, don’t try to tell me otherwise because I see him, and it kills me. I feel like I lose a piece of myself every time I watch him, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Y/N/N…I’m so sorry. Apparently Dolan is associated with the Maroni’s. Dick is doing everything he can, but they are a very protected group.”

“I don’t care who the fuck he is associated with!” You couldn’t take it anymore, you had made your decision, you were going to kill him.

Noting the look on your face, Jason reiterated, “You can’t come back from this Y/N. Make sure you’re sure.”

“Jason, my sweet Jaybird, hearing about everything you have been through has only made me more sure. Most people get one life. My sister, she had one life. One life that was ended tragically at the hands of Dolan Ramin. And I can’t help thinking that it should’ve been me. I mean, I had no one. No one except her. She…she had her entire life. She had people who loved her, her fiancé, her friends…me. I had…have no one, it should’ve been me.”

Jason looked soberly towards me, “I know you wish it was you, Y/N, but I couldn’t imagine a world without knowing you. And hell, I’m gunna to be selfish. Please don’t kill him…I never thought I would say those words. But these fast few months have shown me something new. I don’t want you to be taken from that. Please, stay with me instead.”

“How can I stay, Jay? Dolan is out there. He could kill someone else? Then how would I feel.”

“Y/N, I’m going to watch him day and night until Dick finds a way to put him behind bars. I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else.”

“Jay, then who would look after the rest of the city? You can’t focus on one person for my sake. So many others would be left helpless and in the dark, and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I was the cause.” Jason contemplated your words until he finally spoke again.

“Well, what if you watched Dolan. Could you? Without killing him?”

You looked at him with honesty in your eyes, for you had known nothing else, “I don’t know.”

And with that the discussion was done for the night. Jason wrapped you gently but securely within his arms, carrying you to bed. He didn’t seem to want you to slip from his grasp, yet you couldn’t help but let your mind stray elsewhere. What if I kill him? Would it really be so bad? He’s one of Maroni’s goons, there’s no way he can be up to any good.

You woke up still entangled in his grasp. Carefully weaving your way out, you went into the kitchen to make coffee. Maroni’s goon. You would be doing the world a favor. Right?

Jason joined you in the kitchen and you couldn’t help but question him, “Would you think differently of him if I decided to kill him?” Silence filled the kitchen before Jason answered.

“Y/N, I don’t think anything could change my opinion of you. People handle grief in different ways, and some people need vengeance in order to feel whole again. I don’t think you are more or less of a person because you want justice, Y/N/N.”

You took a deep breath in and looked at him, “I know Dick is doing everything he can, but I can’t help feeling like it’s not enough. This man…this man who killed my sister is just roaming free. How can I live with that? How can anyone live with that?

Jason grabbed your hands, “I can’t tell you what to do…But know that I will be by your side no matter what you choose.”

And that was it. That was all it took, you wouldn’t lose the person you were falling in love with, so you decided to kill Dolan Ramin. It was the middle of the night, you were both asleep but you turned towards Jason’s sleeping body anyways.

“Jay…I have to. He can’t go unpunished for what he’s done.” Not expecting an answer you turned back to sleep, but to your surprise he mumbled out

“I understand, I will still be here for you when it’s done. Now go to sleep my doll.”

The next day you stalked him until night fell. You approached him as the moon was full, while he was asleep in his bed. You wanted him to know why, and you wanted to see the fear in his eyes, so you awoke him.

“Over a year ago, you killed my sister, why I still do not understand, but Dolan Ramin, these will be your last moments on this earth.”

Though your training was brief it was no match for Dolan. That night Jason met you at your apartment, ready to comfort you in whatever way you needed. You knew this was it, for no other would accept what you had just done. As you curled into his chest you said,

“Jay, please never let me go.”

“Never, Y/N. You’re mine, always.”

[slusheeduck]

And One Day, A Queen

[Arrival]  [Introduction]

The Funeral

               Apparently, the king’s visit to the stable had been a sign of his improved health. But rather than celebration, a pall fell over the castle grounds. The windows were darkened, the courtiers and servants milling about the grounds had swapped their typical clothes for dark damask and silk, and black wreathes went up on each of the castle’s entrances.

               Of course, Iduna knew why they were going into mourning. But it seemed odd that they would wait so long after the last king’s death.

               “It’s practicality, is all,” Hekla said over their dinner when she’d brought it up. “No one was sure if the prince would make it, and it’d only make sense to have the two together if he did die.” She looked up at Iduna, shaking her head at the shocked look on her face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

               “But that’s horrible. Treating death like it’s an…an inconvenience or something?”

               “I mean, it is.” Hekla chuckled at Iduna’s unimpressed look. “Look, girl, people die all the time. And Queen Rita’s always been the practical sort. I’m sure she’s grieving, but when everything in your life is a public spectacle, you have to find a way to make it as easy as possible on the public. Two royal funerals back to back would be too much fuss.” She nodded over to a box on Iduna’s cot. “Though speaking of, that’s for the funeral. All the servants are required to attend.”

               “Would you not go otherwise?” Iduna asked, getting up to open the box.

               Hekla shrugged. “Horses don’t care if a king lives or dies, and truth be told, I’d much rather make sure they’re taken care of than listen to a priest tell me about King Runeard’s soul for an hour.”

               Iduna furrowed her brow at that, but instead turned her attention to the box. She took a breath as she pulled out a fine-looking black dress.

               “Yeah, no trousers allowed for us. It’s a pain, but…”

               “It’s lovely,” Iduna murmured, stroking her hand over the soft fabric. She looked up at Hekla, eyes wide. “I’ll pay you back for it. You shouldn’t…”

               “I’m not having you pay to wear uncomfortable clothes to the funeral of a man you’ve never met,” Hekla said gruffly. “Just try to keep it from getting mussed for two days, all right?”

               Iduna nodded, running her hand over it again. She sucked in her lips tightly before looking back at Hekla. “Should…I even go? I mean, with what happened, it feels like it’s…what if it’s not right?”

               Hekla let her head fall back with a deep sigh. “Did you personally kill the king?”

               “No!”

               “Then you have just as much right to be there as anyone else.” She rolled a shoulder with a grimace before getting up, standing right in front of Iduna with her hands on her hips. “I’m willing to bet that Arendellian funerals aren’t like what the Northuldra do, and royal funerals are a whole different mess altogether. People who loved the king will be there. People who hated the king will be there. People like you, who never even met the man, will be there. It’s all a big show.” She tilted her head. “And besides, if you don’t go, then I get a chewing out by the Court Mistress. And do you know how annoying that is?”

               Iduna smiled a bit before carefully setting the dress back in the box. “What did you think of the king?”

               Hekla shrugged as she made her way back to the fire to grab the kettle. “I was employed by him, so my opinion was that he kept my coin purse full enough.” She shrugged. “He and the queen didn’t fuss themselves with us. Don’t think I ever said more than five words to the man, and I’ve worked here since I was a touch older than you.”

               Iduna sat down on her cot. “Is the new king like him?”

               “Do funerals always bring out questions with you?” Hekla asked shortly, but shook her head. “It’s hard to say. We won’t know what he’s like until he’s properly king.”

               “He’s not?”

               “Of course not. He won’t be of age until he’s twenty-one.”

               Iduna frowned. “What does that mean? The soldiers said he was the king when they left the forest.”

               “This is the last question I’m answering,” Hekla warned as she refilled her cup with steaming tea. “He’s next in line to the throne, so the title’s his from what I understand. But his mother’s calling the shots for now. Just as well, because I don’t think anyone wants a concussed teenager running a kingdom.” Her thick brows furrowed together as she looked down at her mug. “Don’t suppose we know what kind of king he’ll be. A lot can change in seven years.” She waved at Iduna. “Anyway, you’d best be getting to sleep. We’ll have to do twice the work to make up for what we’re missing tomorrow.”

               Iduna pressed her lips together, but she carefully set the box beneath her cot and settled down. Seven years…that was such a long time. What would he be like by then? What would she be like by then? Would she be back home? Would there even be a home?

               She did her best to shove any kind of wondering away as she shut her eyes.

~

               “And so we commend the soul of King Runeard of Arendelle into the charge of the Lord…”

               Iduna fidgeted as the ceremony dragged on, only to get a warning box on the ear from Hekla. At first, she’d been moved by the ceremony and seeing all the people who had come to celebrate King Runeard’s life—she’d only been to a few funerals before now, and even having the whole village attend paled in terms of attendance. But then the ceremony kept going. And, for all of her misgivings of attending, she found she couldn’t even feel guilty, because she really hadn’t known the king at all.

               Her gaze wandered as the servants in front of her shifted, letting her see the nobles standing closer to the priest. And there, right in front, was the Queen and her son. Like before, the Queen was striking­—she stood tall beside the memorial stone, shoulders high even as her head bowed soberly. A dark veil hid her face, and she was swathed in a heavy black dress, but even so, her mourning was dignified and silent.

               The same couldn’t be said about Agnarr.

               The young king held a wreath of white flowers, and he was obviously trying to remain as composed as his mother. But his shoulders shook, and while Iduna couldn’t hear him from back here, she knew each time his head twitched up had to be a sniffle. His mother’s hand lightly rested on his shoulder as she whispered something to him, but she quickly withdrew it as he reached to grip it.

               For the first time during the funeral, Iduna felt her throat tighten, and she quickly rubbed at her own eyes as she felt a heavy, warm hand rest on her shoulder.

               “Don’t tell me this droning’s actually getting to you?” Hekla whispered. Iduna shook her head.

               “No, no. It’s…it’s nothing,” she said quietly, rubbing at her eyes again. Hekla looked down at her, then squeezed her shoulder.

               “Ah, I knew you were soft-hearted. You can cry if you’d like, it doesn’t bother me.” She patted Iduna’s shoulder. “Just try to keep it down; they paid a lot for those professional mourners over there, and they’ll be upset if you out-wail them.”

               Iduna couldn’t help laughing a bit, but the tears continued to fall. For the boy who’d lost his father, for the people who’d lost their king, and even for herself, so far away from home. She covered her mouth, trying to keep quiet as every emotion she’d been trying to stuff down for the past two weeks bubbled out of her. As ugly as the grief, the doubts, the uncertainty was, there was something freeing in just…being sad.

               Hekla’s hand went to her head, pulling her in to hug her tightly—though whether it was out of genuine comfort or just to help minimize the sound, Iduna wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t about to argue any sort of comfort, not now.

               To her surprise, the tears didn’t last long; the priest hadn’t even finished his prayer by the time her sobs had quieted into deep, shuddering breaths. She shifted away from Hekla, sniffling and wiping at her eyes before returning her attention to the ceremony.

               “And now, if Their Majesties will come forward to say their final goodbye.”

               Queen Rita swept forward elegantly, her hand once again on Agnarr’s shoulder as she guided him forward. She stepped up to the stone first, kneeling down in one smooth motion. Every attendee was silent as she pressed her forehead to the stone, and even the ocean’s waves below the fjord seemed to go quiet. After a moment, she rose to her feet and stepped back. Iduna bit her lip as she watched Agnarr stand frozen in place even as his mother beckoned to him. Finally, he moved jerkily forward, as if he were focusing entirely on moving one foot in front of the other. He stopped in front of the stone, dropping awkwardly to one knee as he set the wreath of flowers down. He stayed in place, head bowed. Then one loud, keening sob rang out over the silent crowd.

               So quickly it was nearly invisible, the queen waved her hand, and two servants quickly stepped forward, helping Agnarr to his feet and quietly ushering him back to the castle as he tried to quiet his cries. Iduna watched with wide eyes, ignoring the priest’s parting words as she felt her heart twist. Was he not allowed to cry at his own father’s funeral? What was so bad about grieving?

               She turned back as the crowd gave a murmured “Amen” in reply to the priest, brow furrowing as she saw Queen Rita sweep back toward the castle—still collected, still calm, but definitely walking with purpose. Maybe she was going to comfort her son; Iduna could hope for that, at least. The rest of the crowd followed suit, and Hekla patted Iduna’s shoulder again.

               “Finally, we’re free to go,” she said. “Come on, you know how fussy Baldr gets when we leave him too long.”

               Iduna glanced back toward the castle, but followed Hekla slowly. “Where’s everyone else going?”

               “The reception.”

“Reception?”

“Do you not have those back home? You know, the party after the funeral’s over. But that’s just for the nobles; work doesn’t stop for us no matter who dies.” Hekla grimaced as she adjusted her black dress uncomfortably. “That, and I’m itching to get back into my trousers.”

               Iduna chewed her lip as she looked up at Hekla, then back at the crowd. It’d been a long time since she’d seen anything remotely close to a celebration, and knowing how the castle looked, it was probably beautiful inside, even with all the mourning. She stopped, fingers fiddling together before she said, “I, um, I think I’m going to stop by the kitchen. Baldr might be in a better mood if I get him a couple apples.”

               Hekla turned, looking at her warily. “And what’s wrong with the apples in the cottage?”

               “We’re out.” Iduna hadn’t checked on their apple stock lately, so there was a chance that this wasn’t a lie.

               “You’re not just trying to get sugar for them, are you?”  

               Iduna rolled her eyes. “Just apples. Maybe a carrot if I’m really feeling like spoiling them.”

               Hekla frowned, crossing her arms for a moment as she debated. “Fine. But no dallying. I don’t keep you around to disappear when it’s time to work.”

               Iduna gave a little noise of acknowledgement before heading back to the castle. She wouldn’t be long; she didn’t know the first thing about attending a royal party, much less sneaking in to one. But she could afford a moment to take a look.

               Slipping in through the kitchen wasn’t too much of a problem; she didn’t know the castle staff very well, but they seemed too preoccupied with cooking and dishing and serving to notice her grab a couple apples. She quietly followed a serving girl out of the kitchen, trying her best to stay out of the way while trying her best not to get lost. After a moment, they came out into the largest, grandest room Iduna had ever seen. The ceiling seemed to be as tall as some of the trees back home, with tapestries on the wall and delicate etchings in the wood columns and floor. Enough food had been laid out to feed her whole village at least three times over, and even with the cloud of mourning over the party, there were so many people talking and milling about that the air was practically electric.

               Iduna wished very much that she could stay.

               But Hekla would be irritated if she stayed away for too long, and it was going to be quite a trek getting back to the stables. Her dress had no pockets, so she gripped her apples tightly before slipping her way through the crowd. It was much easier than she thought it’d be, and in next to no time, she was hurrying down one of the hallways back.

               “You know better than that.”

               Iduna skidded to a halt as she heard a voice come from behind one of the doors. Up ahead, she caught one of the grand wooden doors just slightly ajar. Her brow furrowed. Should she close it? Seemed like someone was having a conversation in there, but closing it might draw attention to her.

               “I-I didn’t mean to. I just…” The second voice in the conversation let out a shuddering breath, catching as he tried to speak again. “I-it didn’t seem real before now.”

               “Well, it is real, and a king should know better than to make a scene like that.”

               “But I’m not…”

               “The moment your father died, you became King of Arendelle, Agnarr. So act like it. What do we say?”

               “Mother, I-I ca-an’t…”

               A quiet sob interrupted him, but it was quickly silenced by the unmistakable smack of skin hitting skin. Iduna covered her mouth to hide her gasp.

               “What do we say, Agnarr?”

               A moment of silence dragged by, followed by a very meek, “Conceal it, don’t feel it.”

               “Don’t let it show,” Queen Rita replied. “Emotions get the better of you, and you need to learn how to keep them in check. No one wants a quivering wreck leading their country.” She sighed. “Go get yourself together. Come back when you can think with your head.”

               There was a mumble of a reply, and the door opened before Iduna could run away. Agnarr froze as he saw her, eyes wet and cheek still red from the slap. For a moment, it looked as though he might cry again, and he quickly darted away from her, keeping his head down. Iduna hesitated, watching as he hurried down another corridor. She started to step after him, but froze in place as Queen Rita exited the room. The queen looked down at her with sharp green eyes, head tilting very slightly as though trying to place her. Iduna quickly bowed her head politely, hiding the apples between the folds of her skirt.

               “I, um, I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” she said quickly. “I’m…” What was she supposed to say? “I’m very sorry about the king. Your husband, the king, I mean.” She tentatively glanced up and received a small, polite smile from the queen in reply.

               “Thank you for your condolences. But if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the reception.” She looked over Iduna curiously for another moment, then knelt her head before gliding down the hall.

               Iduna stayed put in the hallway, chewing her lip as she fiddled with her apples. She should really head back to the stable, especially after being caught like that. That’d be the smart thing to do.

               But, then again, Hekla always said she could be awfully stupid sometimes. This might be one of those times she needed to be.

~

               Don’t let it show. Don’t let it show. Don’t feel don’t feel don’t feel…

               Agnarr gritted his teeth as another wave of hot tears stung his eyes, hugging his knees tighter as the sea breeze made him shiver. The stairs leading to the water had always been where he could clear his head, but it wasn’t helping in the least. His mother was right, of course. He couldn’t let his grief get the better of him, not when all eyes were on him. But he couldn’t stop.

               He took a shaking breath as he wiped at his eyes again, trying to restart his mantra. If he told himself to conceal it and not feel it, then maybe it’d actually work. He swallowed hard, curling up tighter as he heard the door behind him click open.

               “I’ll…I’ll be at the reception in a minute,” he said, hating how thick his voice was. “Tell my mother I…” He opened his eyes and was immediately met with a shiny red apple right in front of his nose.

               “It’s for the horses, but they make pretty decent snacks for humans, too.”

               “Iduna?” Agnarr finally uncurled, looking up at Iduna with wide eyes. She gave him a small smile, wind tugging at her loose curls as she pushed the apple toward him again. He silently took it, watching as she sat down beside him and bit into her own. “How…how did you find me?”

               “Luck,” she said, then glanced up at him. “Well, that and I asked Gerda where the king liked to run off to when he wants to be alone.” She took another bite. “Servants know everything, you know.”

               “I guess so.” He swallowed hard, rolling the apple in his hands as he felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to see me like this. I…”

               “I don’t mind,” she said. “You’re grieving, you’re supposed to be sad.”

               But he shouldn’t be. He should be able to separate himself from his emotions. He should be able to be as cool and calm as his mother. He should be able to be rational. And that’s what he should have told Iduna, but instead what came out was a choked, “Everything happened so fast. I woke up a-and my father was de-was gone and I was king and we-e lost so many soldiers a-and…and everything’s so different now.”

               He dropped the apple and quickly covered his face as he took a gasping breath. Don’t feel. Don’t feel. Don’t feel. Don’t…

               Two arms wrapped around him tightly, Iduna’s cheek resting firmly on his shoulder.

               “I know. I understand,” she whispered. “I’m grieving, too. It’s so hard.” Her voice caught, and she hugged him even tighter. “You can be sad. You’re allowed to.”

               There were several kingly ways to deal with this kind of treatment. Agnarr ignored all of them, leaning heavily on Iduna and letting out the shaking breath he’d been holding. And with her permission, he finally stopped fighting. He let himself sink into the sadness, the uncertainty, the deep ache that had filled him since he’d woken up. He grit his teeth, hand reaching up to grip Iduna’s arm like a lifeline. If she stopped hugging him now, he might just completely fall apart.

               Surprisingly, no tears came with this wave of sadness. Really, it was surprisingly relieving to just be sad, and more relieving still to finally, finally be comforted.

               They stayed motionless and silent, Iduna’s hug never slackening even when he resurfaced from his thoughts. Slowly, he lifted his head, taking a few deep breaths as he let go of her arm.

               “Thank you,” he whispered as she finally unlatched from him, taking a moment to wipe her own eyes. “Really, Iduna, thank you. You didn’t need to come over here.”

               She gave him a smile, a little wobbly but surprisingly bright, as she took his hand and squeezed it tightly before letting it go. “It’s what I’d want someone to do for me.”

               Agnarr tried his best to smile back, though he wasn’t sure how well it actually came across. As it faded, he looked over her face curiously. “I…this is out of nowhere, but have…have we met before?”

               “I wandered into your room and you visited the stables.”

               He shook his head. “No, before that. I just…look, this sounds crazy, but I feel like I know you.”

               Iduna bit her lip, looking away before looking back up at him and shaking her head. “No. I just moved here a couple weeks ago, Your Majesty.”

               Agnarr grimaced, feeling his ears burn again. “Of course. I’m sorry, it’s…it’s probably from hitting my head.” He turned away from her slightly, looking back out at the water. “And I…probably made this really awkward. I’m sorry.”

               “You apologize a lot.” Agnarr looked up as Iduna lightly leaned against him. “But so do I, so I get it.”

               Agnarr half-smiled, then let out a long sigh as he looked back at the water. “You should really come out here when it’s sunny. Or when the lights are out, my…my father took me out in one of the little boats one of those nights, just a few months ago.” His throat tightened, but the feeling wasn’t quite so uncomfortable now. “I’m really going to miss him.”

               “And that’s okay,” Iduna murmured. “If you miss him, that means you loved him a lot. I think that’s a good thing.”

               Agnarr glanced at her, then swallowed before he shifted. “I…I should probably get back.” He smiled wryly as he got to his feet. “I think I can actually conceal, don’t feel now.” He held out his hand to Iduna, who frowned.

               “That doesn’t seem right,” she said before taking his hand and pulling herself up.

               “It helps. It really does; I like being able to think straight.” The words didn’t quite feel honest as they left his mouth, but he’d told himself the same thing so many times that it had to be. He was just a little more emotional right now was all.

Iduna didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press anymore. “Well, I should get back to the stables. Hekla’s going to be furious that I took so long getting apples.”

“I can talk to her if…”

Iduna shook her head. “No, I don’t need the King to make any excuses for me.” She smiled at him. “I can take care of myself just fine, don’t you worry.” She climbed up the steps, then stopped and glanced back at him. “But you will need to sneak some sugar in next time you visit the horses. They’ll be upset that I was spending time with you instead of them.”

               For the first time in several days, a croaking laugh escaped Agnarr. “I promised before I’ll fill my pockets with them, and I always keep my word.”

               Iduna gave him another warm smile, then quickly slipped back into the castle. Agnarr stayed put for a moment, taking a deep breath of the chilled air.

               He could conceal his grief now, but it had been nice, in a weird sort of way, to let himself feel it. He was very lucky to have found someone to tell him that, to give some comfort instead of just rules and reason.

               Maybe one day he could return the favor.