#anyway I will live peacefully knowing they wanted Charles and have to settle

[slythereen]

imma be real with y’all seeing cs at red bull would make me even more insane

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 28

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 28: Leah reaches her breaking point and has to take a step back from it all

        After delivering the news about Ben Younger’s death, Leah sat in the car. She stared ahead in a daze. How much more could they lose? The deaths just kept getting closer and closer to them. When would it be her turn? Would she die at the hands of her husband’s work? What if Tommy was killed? Leah would be left pregnant and alone just like Ada. Three kids and no father.

           It made her stomach turn just thinking about it.

           Tommy got in the driver’s seat and paused for a moment to take a breath. He didn’t speak for a long moment. The silence settled over in the car as he lifted his hand to turn the key in the ignition.

           Leah glanced over at him when she didn’t hear the car engine start. Her husband was staring in the rearview mirror, his face flushed and his hand on the key shaking. “Tommy.”

           Grace reached from the backseat and touched his shoulder. “Come home to me, Tommy.” She whispered. “Turn the key and come home.”

           “Tommy.”

           Jonah sat beside Grace and leaned forward. “Bring her home to me, Tom. Be a man and bring her home, let me hold her again.” He coaxed.

           “Tommy.” Leah was growing more concerned as her husband’s eyes didn’t move from the mirror.

           “Come home.” Grace pled softly.

           “You’ll be doing the right thing, mate.” Jonah agreed. “Let me hold my Lee again.”

           As if driven by an unnatural force, Tommy turned the key and braced himself. But the fiery arms of an explosion never met him.

           Instead, he was left sitting in a car chugging to life. The ghosts in the backseat disappeared. Only Leah was left behind. Staring at him with immense concern.

           “You’re ill.” She whispered. “Tommy, you’re really ill. I know you are, just please tell me.” She begged. “Tell me and I promise we’ll get you help. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She reached for his hand. Trying to pull him back to the world of the living.

           But Tommy was so content with one foot in the grave. His body tensed up when she touched him. “I’ve been seeing Grace.” He wiped a hand over his face. His skin felt numb. So numb.

           “What?” She whispered in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You mean you see people who look like her?”

           “No.” He shook his head adamantly. Continuing to pull away from her. “I hear her. She was just sitting in the back seat. Sitting with Jonah.”

           The sound of her late husband’s name alarmed her a great deal. But hearing him describe his hallucinations was even more alarming. Leah knew there was no one in the backseat but she still looked over her shoulder just to confirm that she wasn’t the crazy one. “Tommy, you know that’s not real. They’re just visions. You’re under stress, maybe that’s causing-”

           Tommy laid all his cards on the table. He reached into his coat and showed her the vial.

           Angry tears formed in her eyes when she recognized it. “No...God, no.”

           “I’m sorry.”

           “No, you said…you promised!” Leah frantically grabbed at his arms in a daze. Her rage controlled her muscles, snatching the bottle away from him and tearing at the sleeves of his coat.

           “I’m in pain, Leah!” Tommy rose his voice and tried to push her off. "What else can I do? I'm trying to keep this family together on me own! It doesn't matter what I'm taking!"

           Suffocated in the tight space of the car, she ripped open the door and stumbled out into the street. “You promised me! You said you wouldn’t take it anymore!” Her fist tightened around the vial, threatening to shatter it. Instead, she threw it to the ground and stomped on it with her heel. The blue-green glass crunching helplessly, the liquid flowing across the crevices of the cobblestones. The cracking sound released something inside Leah. The things broke since the very start of their relationship. Everything was so broken and she thought she could just hold him tightly and keep the cracks from showing. But Tommy Shelby would always be Tommy Shelby.

           He got out of the running car and came to her. “I’m sorry. I don't know what else I can say apologize.” Even he knew the apology was weak. How many times had he apologized over their relationship?

           “You promised.” Leah was sobbing uncontrollably at that point, her knees giving in from the crippling grief and anger coursing through her veins. “You promised me, Tommy!” She screamed. “You promised me everything and you just…you just break everything. You break everything! You’ve never kept a promise, never, never, never.” She resulted in nothing but repetitive rambling. The stress seizing her, gripping onto her and refusing to let go.

           Tommy caught her before she fell to the ground. The explosion, the death of Ben and the young boy. Everything overwhelmed him. She was right. He broke everything. It was about high time he broke Oswald Mosley.

~~~~~~~

           “Mumma, where are we going?” Johanna had woken up from her nap in the backseat. Charlie was peacefully watching the scenery pass by the window. Cyril was wedged between the two children, panting happily.

           “A little holiday, won’t that be fun, love?” Leah asked from the front seat. Tommy drove beside her, driving down the winding roads to the destination he’d once been before.

           “There’s the ocean!” Charlie exclaimed. Cyril barked happily when he began to recognize his surroundings. His tail began to wag and he pawed at the seat in front of him.

           “Alright, alright, calm down.” Tommy hushed the large dog. “You’re gonna flip the car over.” He pulled down the long driveway to the large manor on the ocean.

           “Now, this isn’t our house so we have to be on our best behavior,” Leah said gently as she opened the door to let the kids and Cyril out.

           The bullmastiff ran right for the front door that opened once the car pulled up the drive

           “Hello, Alfie.”

          “Hello, Cyril. Hello, boy. Yeah, there’s a good lad.” Alfie took the first few minutes to greet his dog. The bull mastiff’s tail was wagging almost violently as he whined and pressed into Alfie’s legs.

           “Well, he hasn’t missed you at all.” Tommy joked.

           “Dogs, yeah, they’re smarter than most people, mate. Got real strong loyalties.” Alfie straightened up. “Let’s have a look see, then. The Shelby family.” He put his hands on his hips.

           “Charles, Johanna, this is Mr. Solomons.” Leah introduced the man, trying not to gawk at his left eye. The injury her husband left was horrible and she couldn’t imagine how painful it was. It was a wonder Alfie had survived it.

           Johanna beamed up at Alfie, not too put off by his marred eye. “Hi.” She waved at him.

           Charlie, however, was old enough to know that most people didn’t have scars like Alfie did. “What happened to your eye?” He blurted out.

           “Charles.” Leah bent down. “That’s not nice.” She scolded.

           “S’alright, Leah.” Alfie held out a hand to reassure her. “It’s quite a story, Charlie boy. S’got dragons and monsters so if you’re good, I’ll tell it to ya.”

           The little boy’s eyes widened in awe and he nodded.

           “C’mon in then.” Alfie let them inside. Cyril made himself right at home, trotting into the parlor and sniffing around.

           “You have a lovely place, Alfie,” Leah said as Tommy took her coat for her. "And right on the ocean, it's quite the view."

           “Thank you, yeah, s’nice to be here year ‘round now, innit?” Alfie walked down the hall. “Want tea?”

           “S’pose we should sit down and have a chat.” Tommy agreed.

           “Would it be alright if the children played outside?” Leah wondered. She had a feeling the conversation wouldn’t be something the kids should hear. Not after the confrontation the men had years ago.

           “’Course, they can fucking tear up the garden if they’d like. It’s getting overgrown anyway.”

           “Alright, I’ll get them settled.” Leah looked to her husband. “Maybe you two should talk first.”

           Charlie and Johanna went out to the front lawn to play with Cyril. Leah stood out with them for a moment before heading back inside. She entered the parlor where Tommy and Alfie were talking.

           “Come in, come in.” Alfie greeted her. “Just having a chat ‘bout your husband’s shit aim and the number he’s done on me face.”

           Leah sat down in one of the many comfortable chairs in the parlor. Her eye was drawn to the strange oddities that Alfie kept in the room. Taxidermy animals, antiques, and gadgets that looked valuable. All things that were sure to keep the children entertained for the week that they planned on staying there. Of course, the timing was tentative. It all relied on Tommy’s plan going smoothly or not.

           “I was glad to hear you survived.” She said but the words sounded strange and awkward.

           Alfie appeared amused. “Well, you are one of the few to actually say that.” He folded his hands over his stomach.

           “Well, thank you for taking us in at such short notice.”

           “Curious to know, Tommy, how did you even find out I was dead?” Alfie didn’t want to appear weak by giving refuge to the mother and children. Of course, he would protect the innocent, even if they were Tommy’s family.

           “You wrote me a letter, Alfie.”

           “Did I?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

           Leah looked shocked too. Tommy had failed to mention that letter. She was sure that he would tell her about a letter from a man who was supposed to be dead. It pointed to the distance in their relationship.

           “You asked about your dog.”

           “Yeah, well I were on a lot of drugs.” He gestured to his face. “On account of being shot in the face by a cunt.”

           Leah bit her lip. “How are you faring now?” She hoped being gentle would be her best bet.

           “Learning to live with just one functioning eye.” Alfie shrugged. He glanced over at Tommy. “Think I’m doing better than your husband. You’ve gotten yourself into fascism, aye, stupid boy?”

           Tommy didn’t react probably in the way Alfie hoped. Instead, he just calmly took a drag of his cigarette. “I’m planning on killing Oswald Mosley.”

           “You’re going to kill the man and then you think you can kill the message.”

           “I will kill the message.”

           Leah looked down at her hands and felt like just curling up into herself. She didn’t want to know what dangers they were really facing. If she focused on it then she may have tried to stop Tommy from leaving.

~~~~~~~~

           But he did leave. After kissing the children goodbye, Tommy got in the car and started to drive back to London. Leah stood in the doorway, watching his car drive off. Her chest was tight with fear and it felt almost paralyzing.

           “Would ya like to bring the kids down to the beach?” Alfie came up behind her. “Get your mind offa things?” His tone was significantly gentler once Tommy was gone. The gangster act he upheld so well could be set to the side. He didn’t need to keep his reputation for Leah and her children.

           She turned. “Oh, yes. I’m sure they would like that.” She forced a smile.

           Johanna and Charlie were delighted to visit the beach. Alfie brought down a little pail for Johanna to collect shells and a ball for Charlie to throw for Cyril.

           “Forgive me, but I didn’t think you’d be so…”

           “Nice?” Alfie chuckled. “Funny thing when you die and become resurrected. Makes you think ‘bout all the things you used to do, right? Spent decades fighting. But a man can’t fight forever.”

           Leah’s forehead creased. That didn’t ring true for Tommy. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t accept a quiet life. He always needed to fight and she didn’t understand why.

           The two were quiet as the stood near the dunes of the beach. Watching Charlie running around with Cyril was refreshing. The little boy was allowed to forget about the grief he had over his horse and the misunderstanding between him and his father. Johanna seemed content as she trotted around with the pail. She dragged it through the sand as she would stop, crouch down and pick something up.

           “This is the first time you didn’t call me Rosetta’s girl.” Leah realized quietly. "Before you used to call me that every time we met."            

           “That right?” Alfie didn’t seem surprised. In fact, it appeared that he knew what she was talking about. “Well, to be honest this were the first time you’ve looked like your own person.”

           She looked at him in surprise. “Pardon?”

           “You’ve got two kids, a life of your own, yeah? Sure, you’re married, but you ain’t lost anymore.”

           Leah wanted to ask what he meant by ‘lost’ but then it hit her. She wasn’t lost. Alfie was correct in that. She had found her place in the world. “I’m afraid everything is going to unravel.” She admitted. Never in her wildest dreams did she think Alfie Solomons would be a confidante for her.

           “Your husband’s campaign is foolish. But at least he’s doing something that no one else will.”

           “You believe he can do something about all of this?” She asked in disbelief. Encountering Mosley was a different experience. The man gave an impression of arrogance that was almost justified. The kind of man that thought he could get away with anything because he had already gotten away with so much. Knowing Tommy was up against him scared her.

           He looked over the horizon where the ocean met the sky. “Time will tell, won’t it?”

           “I suppose.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Once the sun began to set, they went inside to wash up for dinner. The kids waited in the parlor as Alfie’s maid prepared the meal. Johanna sat on the floor with the pail, pulling out each shell and rock to show Alfie. The little girl decided she like the man, despite his appearance. Even Charlie warmed up to him almost instantly.

           “Lookit.” Johanna handed Alfie a smooth stone.

           “That looks like a skipping stone. You know how to skip stones, Charlie?”

           “Yeah, dad taught me.” The little boy nodded. He was sat outside on the balcony overlooking the ocean with Alfie’s binoculars.

           “Let’s save this one, aye?” He set the rock aside. “Your brother can skip it tomorrow."

           “See?” Johanna held up a conch shell next.

           “Look at that!” Alfie turned the shell over in his hand. “Hard to find ones that are complete like this, no chips or pieces missing.” He showed her the inside. “That’s where little critters live. They hole on up in there."

           “And this!” Johanna passed him something else.

           “Let’s see then. Well, lookit here. Tha’s sea glass, Jo.” He held the smoothed over green piece to the light. “Lucky find, that is.”

           “This is for mummy.”

           “Oh yeah? What’s this?” Alfie gently took the scallop shell, his thumb smoothing over the pinkish cream-colored inside and then over the ridges of the outside. “Want to give that to mum?”

           “Yeah.”

           “You have the other half? Oh yeah, look.” Alfie touched the two halves of the shell together. “Critters live in here too 'til they outgrow ‘em and find a bigger shell. How’s ‘bout you give the other half to dad?”

           “Okay.” Johanna agreed and continued sifting through the pail, the objects clinking against the metal.

           Leah came into the parlor after freshening up for dinner. “Looking through your treasures?” She kissed the top of Johanna’s head.

           The little girl beamed up at her mother. “I found s’glass.” She chirped happily.

           “Maybe you can leave Alfie some, I’m not sure we’ll be able to bring all of that home.” Leah laughed softly.

           Johanna cupped her hands, picking up a handful of rocks and shells and promptly poured them into Alfie’s hands. “Tha’s yours."

           “Oh well that’s very kind, that is. We’ll have to find places to put ‘em.” He smiled and stood up.

           Leah walked out to the balcony and sat down beside her son. “See anything?” She smoothed his blond hair back and briefly thought about having to get him a haircut soon.

           “Yeah, there are ships.” He continued looking through the binoculars.

           “I wonder where they’re going.”

           Charlie simply shrugged. He had something else on his mind. “Why didn’t dad stay here with us?”

           “He’s got to work.” She replied. “He’ll take a holiday with us this summer.” She promised and hoped it was something that would come true. At that point she was just hoping everyone ended up alive. They could discuss holidays later.

           “Mum,” The boy lowered the binoculars and set them down in his lap. He looked up at her with concern in his eyes. “Is dad okay?”

           It was everything Leah was afraid of. It didn’t matter if Leah and Tommy argued behind closed doors. Children picked up on everything even if it was unsaid. That’s why Johanna liked Alfie. She could see beyond his tough exterior. Charlie could see the decline in his father’s mental health. It didn’t matter how hard Leah tried to keep a positive atmosphere in the home.

           “Sometimes, people struggle with being sad. Daddy will be okay but…” The words got stuck in her throat.

           “But what?”

           “But we need to give him lots of love to help him.” She tried to smile but her muscles felt too tense to even function correctly. “You and Joey can do that, right?”

           Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”

           “Mummy, I got a shell for you.” Johanna came wandering over with the scallop shells. “And this is for daddy.”

           “Oh, thank you, poppet.” She took the shells in her hands and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Daddy will love it. C'mon you two, I'm sure dinner'll will be done soon."

~~~~~~~~~

           After dinner, Leah got the children to bed and went into the parlor to read for just a little bit. She noticed some of the shells that Johanna had collected were now placed among the artifacts on Alfie’s shelves and cabinets. Some sand lingered on the wood surfaces.

           Alfie came in with a cup of tea and settled into his armchair. He glanced out the balcony to where the sun had disappeared. The sky blooming into an array of purples and blues.

           “Did Tommy tell you I was pregnant?” Leah wondered.

           “He did.” Alfie nodded. “Used it as a threat. If I hurt you-such and such.” He waved a hand.

           Leah tilted her head in acknowledgment. That sounded like her husband. “It’s funny. When I was pregnant with Johanna, I thought it would make things better. Tommy would settle down more.” She shook her head. “It was stupid to think that.”

           “What’s your end goal?”

           “My end goal?” She paused. Most days, she didn’t even know which way was up. So many things had rocked her world beyond repair. It ended up that she couldn’t only think one day at a time. As long as her children were safe in bed at the end of the day, it was a success. But long term? “I don’t know.” She admitted quietly. Could she even guarantee tomorrow? Could she guarantee that she wouldn’t get a call saying that Tommy had been shot dead?

           “Something to think about.”

           She frowned and felt some anxiety bubble in her stomach. “I don’t want to wish for something that’s not plausible. It’s not worth the time spending if it’s unrealistic. I just want my children to be safe and have a good life.”

           He watched her with thoughtful eyes. “And you don’t think you can provide them with that?”

           Leah paused. When she lost Jonah, her world came crashing down. But she didn’t have children to care for back then. If she were to lose Tommy, she wouldn’t have the option to break down again. She would have to hold everything together for the sake of Charlie, Johanna, and the baby on the way. “I want Tommy to be okay.”

           Alfie nodded. “Think doctors can get into that brain of his?”

           She sighed quietly. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m close and he slips away.”

           The man was quiet for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be fucking married to ‘im that’s for damn sure.”

           Leah shared a laugh with him. “It’s hard to explain love." She admitted. "But I'll never stop loving him."

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​  @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @tarafaithe​ @vampgirl1997​ @evelynshelby​

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[turtletotem]

KissCam

@kernezelda Here is the Cherik fic you won in the second Star Bright release party challenge! I hope you enjoy!!

Inspired by this video clip :)  Also on AO3.

En Sabah Nur portrayed for us here by Oscar Isaac sans smurf makeup.

.

Charles wasn't much of a sports fan, but he wasn't opposed to attending the Yankees game. He'd been following the story of Yankees player Carl DeMarco, who was fighting to keep his contract after coming out as a mutant. When the very handsome Egyptian immigrant who had become Charles's coffee shop pal suggested they make the Yankees game their first date, therefore, Charles was all for it. He bought a "NY <3 DeMarco" flag, wore his big red M lapel pin, and let En Sabah Nur pick him up in a startlingly expensive Mercedes-Benz.

En Sabah Nur had always been friendly, witty, and attentive at the coffee shop, but today he was distracted, constantly on his phone, and far too smug about his car and his expensive clothes, expecting Charles to be impressed. Charles, who could have bought the clothes, the car, and the coffee shop and still had room for a yacht in his monthly allowance, was not impressed. Just because he preferred broken-in tweed jackets and lowering his carbon footprint with public transit didn't mean he was going to get stars in his eyes at the sight of a Rolex watch.

Perhaps Raven was right, Charles thought with a sigh as he paid for his own hot dog and tried to block out Sabah's irate phone conversation. Raven had seen them together often enough—she worked at the coffee shop, which was why Charles went there—and she was convinced he only wanted Charles for his body.

There were worse things to be wanted for, honestly. It was all very well to be loved for your mind, but Charles had encountered enough telepathy fetishists to find a certain relief in straightforward physical lust.

The two seats on Charles's right had been empty; now, with the game about to start, a man about Charles's age helped a frail but bright-eyed older woman into one of them, and sat down next to Charles himself.

"Hey!" Charles barely rescued his soda from the man's careless elbow.

"Watch it!" the man snapped, as if Charles had been the one at fault, only to pause and grimace when he realized his mistake. "Um… sorry."

"No worries," Charles said lightly. "Of course you're focused on your—mother?"

"Yes," the man said, and turned back to the woman in question, fussing over her comfort until she batted him away with a fond expression. He settled in next to her, looking disgruntled.

"Sorry again, about that," he said after a moment, shooting Charles a sideways glance. "It's too cold out here for her, but she's a big baseball fan—us immigrants have to love the Great American Pastime, right? And she insisted on coming to support DeMarco. You're a fan of his, too?" He nodded at the flag.

"Mutant solidarity!" Charles said, flashing his M pin. "Oh—what's that you've got on yours?"

"Mutant solidarity." The man's grin was all teeth, but in a surprisingly attractive way. In terms of appearance he was right up there with Sabah, in fact, lean and chiseled with fascinating gray-green eyes. It took Charles a moment to force his gaze onto the pin the stranger wore in the same place Charles had his mutant M. This pin was larger and made of multicolored metal, a rainbow flag with an M in the middle, and words along the top and bottom. QUEER FREAK.

"Oh, I love that!" Charles cried. "Where did you get it? I'd love to have one!"

The man's cheeks reddened and he looked suddenly bashful. "I made it. I'm a magnetokinetic—I work with metal." He opened his hand, and the pin lifted from his jacket to settle into Charles's hand.

"That's brilliant!" Charles knew he was getting overexcited in the way Raven always teased him about, but he couldn't help it—the infinite variety of mutation was always so fascinating. "Oh, but I couldn't take yours, you need it to show your support—could I commission one from you? Do you have a card?"

"Sure." The man let his pin return to his jacket, and fiddled in his wallet for a minute before handing Charles a card with a phone number, email address and the words Erik Lehnsherr, Custom Metalwork.

"What's your mutation?" the man—Erik, the trim-yet-spiky German name fit him perfectly—was asking.

"I'm a telepath," Charles said, and this was always the tricky moment, seeing how a new acquaintance—even another mutant, sometimes especially another mutant—would react.

"Impressive," Erik said, his eyebrows lifting, and his mental sense (even muted by the thick shields Charles had to erect in a crowd like this) was all interest and admiration, no trepidation at all.

"You're a telepath?"

Charles turned toward Sabah's voice, sudden and sharp on his other side. "Yes? Hadn't I mentioned that? I usually do, I'd rather know sooner than later if it's going to be a problem." That last sentence came out stiffer than Charles intended, but this date already hadn't been going well…

But Sabah didn't look panicked or judgmental. He was smiling, with (finally) a spark of focus in his eyes. It should have gratified Charles, but somehow it unsettled him instead. He tried to remember what Sabah had said his mutation was.

"Quiet now, boys, the game is starting!" Erik's frail mother said excitedly, and they all turned their attention to the ballfield.

It wasn't long, though, before Sabah leaned in close to Charles and caught his eye. Can you hear this, Charles? Can you hear me thinking?

With an inward sigh, Charles replied, Yes, I can hear you.

Sabah's smile widened. That's amazing. What else can you do? Can you…

The stream of obscene scenarios and intricate fantasies that followed could not have all occurred to En Sabah Nur in the last three minutes.

"I'm trying to watch the game, Sabah," Charles said loudly. "We can discuss all that later."

"Oh, okay," Sabah said in a tone that made Charles wish he'd phrased that differently. Something more like We won't be discussing that at all. It wasn't even that Charles was opposed to using his powers in bed; there was indeed some incredible fun to be had that way. But…

Erik, frowning, leaned in close to his other side. "Is this guy bothering you, um… Mister..?"

"Xavier," Charles said automatically. "Charles Xavier. And no, of course not, he's my date, we're just—I'm just—"

"You're just realizing he's a jackass?"

Charles couldn't repress a snort of startled laughter, but was saved from further conversation with either man by DeMarco taking the field. All four of them cheered wildly, waving their flags and, in the case of Erik's mother, unfolding a small banner that she made Erik help her hold up.

The announcers were talking about DeMarco's mutant coming-out, of course, and how various parties were trying to get him disqualified from the league.

"Unbelievable nonsense," Charles said, just as incensed now as the first time he'd heard it. "His mutation doesn't even have anything to do with his performance. The man talks to plants, for heaven's sake."

"It shouldn't matter if his mutation was 'always wins at baseball,'" Erik said next to him. "Everyone's born with natural advantages and disadvantages, they shouldn't penalize DeMarco any more than any other player with the lucky genes for strong arms and long legs."

That sparked a lively argument, which Charles found more intriguing than irritating; Erik had several good points, some of which Charles struggled to refute, and while he criticized Charles's logic without mercy, Erik didn't seem to be remotely angry at him personally.

"What do you think about it, Sabah?" Charles said eventually, chagrined that he had half-forgotten his date.

"Oh, I'm sure you're right, Charles," Sabah said absently, one eye on the game and the other on a text message.

"You're terribly distracted today," Charles said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Something wrong at work?"

"Oh, you know, there's always something." Taking the hint, Sabah put his phone in his jacket pocket. "If it were easy to take over the world, everyone would do it, right?"

"Er, right," Charles said, trying to remember what it was Sabah did for a living. He was starting to realize he didn't actually know very much about this man, for all of their cozy coffee shop conversations. The 'take over the world' remark had to be a joke, his expression indicated it was a joke, and yet… jokes had a pretty distinctive mental feel, almost like a lie but without the ill intent. That hadn't felt like a joke or a lie to Charles's telepathy.

"What are you and this guy arguing about, anyway?" Sabah asked.

"Mutant rights, what else?"

"Well, I'm in favor of them," Sabah said dryly. "The natural order is for the strong to rule the weak, and mutants are the next step of evolution. Eventually, mere humanity's going to be left in the dust. The sooner the better, in my opinion."

Charles blinked at this calm, confident declaration of a borderline genocidal sentiment. "Well, that's—I mean, mutation is evolution in action, but mutants are human, the next step of humanity, not—I mean we're considerably more alike than not, and there's no reason we can't coexist peacefully—"

"If one or the other has to be on top," Erik said on his other side, "and history suggests one does, it should be mutants. But," he sighed, "in my experience it's a lot easier to say 'screw the baselines' than it is to look at the actual baselines around you and say 'screw you.' My daughter Anya's baseline. My mother's baseline." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at her, then did a double-take. "And she's taken off her coat! Mama, what are you doing?"

"That one itches, schatz. Look, Frankson is going to take third base—yes, he's doing it! Look at him go!"

"Here, she can wear mine," Charles said, shrugging out of his coat; he had a heavy sweater underneath and was a bit overwarm with both.

"Thanks," Erik said, and bullied his mother into the coat.

"If you think he's wrong about things," Sabah murmured to Charles, "you can just… change his mind, can't you?" His voice was disturbingly sultry.

"I certainly cannot," Charles replied coldly, but Sabah only chuckled and turned his attention back to the game.

When Erik settled back into his seat, Charles, feeling squirmy and embarrassed that Sabah had even brought that up, changed the subject. "You have a daughter, you said?"

"Yeah, married my high school sweetheart before I realized I was gay—big mistake for both of us," oh good, he was single, "but it brought us Anya." He started showing Charles pictures on his phone of an elfin dark-haired nine-year-old.

"Oh, look, she has your chin!"

"Yeah, poor thing…"

Mama Lehnsherr gasped and started slapping at Erik's arm.

"What? Mama, what?" Erik cried in alarm, but she was laughing, pointing at the Jumbotron.

"Look, Erik, we're on the KissCam! Or, no, your new friend and his sweetheart are in the center—"

So they were, Charles saw. Saxophone music swelled through the speakers, and all through the stadium people were laughing and cheering in anticipation. Charles had to admit to being charmed by the idea of being on the KissCam; it was delightfully silly and romantic. He turned to Sabah—

Who was on his phone again, turned entirely away from Charles with his finger in his other ear.

Fine. Actually? More than fine.

"Shall we?" Charles said, turning to Erik on his other side.

Erik's eyes widened. Then he smiled, that wild-looking show of teeth that Charles had instantly found endearing, and leaned in. Their mouths met in a warm, firm press that felt shocking and new and yet strangely familiar, as if some deep unconscious part of him had been expecting this, waiting for this. For Erik.

Charles was dimly aware of applause and catcalls, of a surge of laughter throughout the stadium as Sabah turned around and began sputtering in outrage, but he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, the date was over—and something else, something much better, was about to begin.

[flyingpups]

A story

                                                    Chapter 1 “Twelve scars on her thighs measuring in about four inches wide, small cuts surrounding her fingertips, and a teardrop imprint on her tertiary finger. Twenty five scars splattered her entire back, all ranging in different sizes and thickness. There are a plethora of scars covering both of her arms as well; minimal and small, but unusual that there are so many. The wounds on her arms will heal over time but…” the guard stares at the parchment with great sorrow. He shakes his head in a displeasing manor, continuing his report as followed. “The gash to her neck seemed to happen very recently, if she were any later to the valet, the valetudia, the valetudan..” “the valetudinarium?”, the other guard states in a mocking tone. “Yes, the clinic. If the people who had discovered her were any later, she wouldn’t be here knocking at death’s door.” “What did she do anyways?”, the second guard contemplated. “They wouldn’t tell us, just said to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t die from her wounds. It’s a shame, I knew her father, she was a very kind sweet girl once. 

It’s sad to think she would be this marked up, at the age of fourteen no less”. They walk towards the prisoner, finding her huddled under some sheets on the cot. The visible pain on her twitches is enough to investigate her motives even more so. The prison medic walks out the cell, her medical bag on her persons with visible despair. She is visibly shaken from the young girl’s wounds.The first guard looks at her with somber eyes, tempted to enter her jail cell and console her. The only thing he managed to do was lay another blanket atop her to warm her up. The second guard lightly grasped his comrad’s shoulder, inviting him back to reality. Sighing softly, he nods and walks away, venturing back to their guards chambers. “So how exactly do you know her, Erza?” he pondered, lifting a mug of ale to his lips. “I’ve known her family for several years, Charles”. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, staring back at her jail cell. “I just don’t know how she accumulated so many scars. I still recall walking into her father’s bakery.” He let out a smirk, turning his eyes back to Charles. “I heavily remember walking into partake on a few lunar berry tarts, when this little girl would run out at the sound of the door chimes. She was coated in a heavy seep of flour and blotted cyan cream on her cheeks. She was only seven at the time…”

She tossed and turned in her sleep, grasping at the sheets often. The sound of water clashing into a pan awoke her from her slumber in a panic haze. The medic washing the dirty bandages nearly had her soul fly away from the sudden screams. She clasped her robe, trying to steady her heart, watching the girl wince in pain from the sudden movement. “You nearly gave me a fright, devil girl!” She hollered loudly. The two guards came rushing by with their swords drawn. The medic waives them off, claiming that everything is under control. Turning back to the girl, she settles her down with a soothing voice. “There there little poppet, you are not in any danger.” Quelling down, she lies on her back, steadying her breathing. She takes a moment to survey her surroundings, pretty typical of what a jail cell should look like. Though they seem sparse of a mirror, it was highly unlikely there would be a reason to have one. She takes a good look at the medic salving her wounds. She was quite a hefty lass with; shoulder length amber hair tied into a bun, a holy cross of some sorts around her neck and oval cherry tinted glasses. She was dressed in all white with a auburn toolbelt and blue heeled boots. Her eyes resembled a meadow, bright yellow with a tint of orange. There were minimal freckles across the bridge of her nose and pierced lips of brass, two rings to be exact. She couldn’t be older than fifty five. 

Mary attempts to unwind the binding embracing her arms. She seemed to resile away from her, crawling back against the wall. “Oh stop it will you, do you want your wounds to become infected? Would you rather lose a leg or two? Sit still and let me heal your wounds will you” she pestered the girl and scooted closer to her. Begrudgingly, she sat still and winced while Mary unwrapped her bindings. Blood soaked the rags heavily against her thighs and legs, taking an astonishingly longer time due to her cries of anguish. The bandages on her arms though seem to slide off like water on glass, a few cuts and scrapes but nothing major. the gash on her neck though worried her the most, it was as if someone held the knife in a cumbersome position. They cut her, healed her, and sliced her more so, similar to a scarred tree. Shaking off her nerves, she grabs some cleaning slime and spreads it across her thighs, causing the girl to thrash and holler in pain. “I know it stings poppet but that's how the healing works. I can promise you it won’t be pleasant but it’s better than lying here in constant pain while time heals you. Shame, those scars will remain with you forever. What prickly thorns did you infiltrate to paint your skin like a rose bush”. After half an hour of bellowing screams and hollering, Mary stepped out with a basket full of filthy rags. The girl falls asleep from the searing pain, finally able to dream peacefully. Erza stopped by her chambers, and glanced at her for a moment. She looked back at him, and smiled. “Please, tell me what happened to you, who hurt you, why has the queen ordered you to keep you alive” he questioned her. All she could muster was to shake her head negatively. He simply gave her a reassuring smile and continued on his patrol. The jail house was relatively small, able to house about four hundred criminals. There were three floors to this building, with the guards chambers being in both the second and first floor. At least that’s what the other inmates yell out. Most are in here for petty crimes while others need a shelter from the deadly weathers that come to be. 

As the days went on, so did the bone chilling nights. As requested, Erza gave her several blankets to survive the night, five to be exact. Favoritism was heavily noted between both inmates and the other guards. but who can blame them, it was on the queens order the girl be kept alive. Mary mended her clothing when it had gotten rips, even added pockets to her request. An odd request, but she sought no reason not to grant it. The sound of the other prisoners next door, keeping her up didn't help as well. As the weeks went by, so did the frequent visits from Erza. It made her somewhat at peace, listening to an old friend reminisce about the past. His fondest memories have to be at the bakery her father worked at, the time she tried to sell him an overpriced muffin, and the infestation of drims from her feeding them halodena muffins. Not surprising that they were interested in a muffin filled with tons of sugar and rich creamy halodena berries. Every night he would ask what predicament she was in, every night she still remained mute as ever. She spent the days looking outside the barred windows, staring up into the stars. She couldn’t stay here any longer, as kind as the guards are, they wouldn’t be able to protect her. She made up her mind about the days to come. She has to escape from this prison, any longer and she would be putting other lives at risk. She made sure to keep in shape with minimal exercise, and contemplate her set path.

Slip through the bars, jump to the roof, and climb down the side of the building with greater caution. The jump is only ten feet away, possible with minimal margin of error. Using the blankets, I can make spare clothes for the trip… no that won’t work. Only Mary sews in this place. I can bring one blanket with me to use as a cloak and the other to help me escape. I have to pick a day when they are preoccupied with other things.

She had her plan, she recited it over and over to account for any failures. She recalled her father mentioning a town to the far east and a beast named Drake. What business that beast and her father had, she will never know until she makes the venture for herself. For now, she has to be patient for the right moment. She had remembered the guards are typically overly laxed on fridays. Not to mention, things tend to get overly hectic when a drunkard decides to either barge in or spend a night in a cell. The last drunkard that arrived tossed a guard out the window, and expelled his fluids onto several guards. Safe to say, they keep ample distances away from the wanderers and bar flies.

As she rested her head down on the soft cold pillow, she began to daydream about her lonesome adventure yet to come. She won’t be able to return for a long while, and most likely she will be hunted for escaping the city. Tears began flowing down her cheek; she would miss her father and the smell of the warm bread baking in the oven, the chimes from the door opening, even the birds in the late afternoon waiting for the bread that had gone partially bad. She would undeniably miss her mother’s heavenly voice echoing inside her head. With one shaky deep breath, she closed her eyes and retired for the night. The next day came to be and it started like any other; banging on the metal doors to awaken the prisoners, feeding them their daily rations, and making sure they head to the bathing chambers to clean themselves off. She had been here for one month now, watching ever so vigilantly. She saw when the guards’ patrols were at their weakest, when the prisoners seemed the most unruly, and when mother nature blessed her with fog. Thankfully the fog was exceptionally heavy. Tonight is the night to make her move. Equally lucky, only Charles and Erza seem to be the only guards present on the second floor. Taking the three blankets, she weaves them to a makeshift chain and smiles to herself. 

The sound of the bed scraping against the floors alerted the guards to the prisoners chambers. One by one, they inspected their cells to find anything out of the sort. Everything seemed to be in order, except the girl’s room. They opened up the cell and inspected the body lying on the bed, no sign of disturbance or motion at all. “Hey, wake up will you”, he calls out, banging onto the bars behind him. She laid there motionless and still as a corpse.  Charles ripped off the sheets to discover a makeshift body in place for their prisoner. Her grip was slipping lightly, causing her to pull the bed closer to the wall, thankfully gone unnoticed. Panicking, he lifted up the bed only to find the similar situation. Shifting the bed immensely almost caused her to fall from the side of the wall. With subtle movement she propelled away from the prison wall and caught the ledge of the roof across the way. Charles and Erza quickly rushed towards the windowsill, peered outside to find anything unusual, and saw a silhouette on the opposite side of them. Standing on top of the building ten feet away, they find the escapee wearing the makeshift cloak made out of blankets. The green glow from her eyes seemed almost full of sorrow as she jumped down and escaped into the darkness. Charles quickly ran for the door when Erza grasped his arm.“Wait,” he said with caution, “It’s best if we just let her go, make the excuse that she was never brought here.” “Why are you protecting her? Isn’t it our job to keep prisoners confined? If we hurry now we can still catch her.”, he asked him profusely. 

“I’m considering it a favor for her father, I rather keep the memory of her being a sweet innocent girl, rather than a criminal.” Charles hesitates for a moment, then sighs in defeat. “You owe me a drink if we get in trouble for this”, he states in an annoyed tone. Continuing on their emergency patrol, they make sure all other prisoners on their level are accounted for. They trot back to their station and continue their paperwork. As they continue on their duties, he glances towards her cell, ever thinking about the innocent girl he once knew. 

She continues running down the street, making sure to stay out of the light of the torches hanging by the streets. She sat in silence for a gruesome four minutes, breaking out in tears and soft sobs. She wouldn’t dare go back to her father, considering the situation she is in now. She had no friends, no other immediate family, and she isn’t even fiendish enough to break into another stranger's home and claim it as her own. She had nobody and no home to stay in.  Giving herself a moment to regain composure, she stands up, gazes towards the stars and heads down the road away from town. What she does now will define her actions, but her past, her scars and memories… they will die down and never return to the surface. She wipes her eyes and glances forward with a focussed yet saddened look. “My voice will never be heard, it is better this way. My melody will never be sung, save the rest from my excuses.”, she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath, she shook off her nerves, and ventured forward.