#being 16 is already a surreal thing to say and 18 seems both like a fake age that can only happen to other people and terrifyingly real

[knifeslidez]

anyone know how to cope with the adulthood you never processed as inevitable rapidly approaching? cuz i am *not* having a good time about it

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 19 (Mafia AU)

Summary:  Rus is having a chance for a few regrets. Bad mistakes? Yeah, he's made a few.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings, Attempted Sexual Assault

Warning:  Heads up, let me add a warning here for attempted sexual assault and violence.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

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Read Chapter 19 on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Rus came to with his head throbbing, feeling as if his skull had been stuffed full of cotton wool. The blanket under his mouth was soaked with his own drool, sticking clammy and cold to his face. With a grunt of effort, Rus tried to move and found he couldn’t. That quickly woke him up the rest of the way, that and the jangle of chains as struggled to get upright. Craning his neck, he looked up and down the length of his body to see the cuffs circling his wrists and ankles, each with its own chain fastened to a bedpost. He was still mostly dressed, he saw. His sweater was gone, but the button-up and trousers he’d been wearing were still in place, if horribly wrinkled. A small consolation that Rus clung to desperately, uncertain if he’d even know if anything had been done to him.

He had a vague, foggy memory of being carried, being moved, and burning hands moving over him but little else. No, that was wrong, he could remember more and didn’t want to, remembered Lilith and blood and fear, and might not know where exactly he was, but he knew who brought him here.

“no,” Rus whispered to himself, struggling harder, the restraints jangling with an almost cheery chime against the bedframe. “no, no, no.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep that up, little flower."

A terrifyingly familiar voice, one that carried with it its own memories of hurt and fear.

“don’t touch me!” Rus blurted hysterically, struggling harder despite the tearing pain in his wrists. “you stay away from me!”

All his struggles meant nothing, the cuffs allowed only enough give for him to lay on the bed, and he let out a weak sob as a hot hand settled on the small of his back, pinning him firmly back to the mattress.

“Darling, we haven’t even begun.” The bed shifted as Blaze sat down next to him and his hand slid up Rus’s spine in a mockery of soothing. “How well do you understand me?"

Rus could taste salt-sweetness, tears running back into his sockets and gathering nauseously at the back of his throat. That hand moved to the top of his skull, knuckles rapping against it painfully. “Answer me.”

“well enough,” Rus said dully. This was his own fault, he’d been warned, and even if Edge found him this time, who was to say what might happen between now and then.

“Better. This will go much easier on you if you’re obedient, precious.” That burning touch moved down to Rus’s face and he tried to jerk away instinctively, the chains holding him back. “Now, now, pet, calm yourself. If I only wanted to fuck you, I could have done it already, couldn’t I.” Those burning fingers skimmed lower, fondling his jaw. “Tempting, I’ll admit, such a pretty mouth. But why use force when you’ll be giving yourself to me willing?”

That confident assertion set off a spark, scorching a path of fury through Rus’s dull acceptance.

“Fuck you!” Rus spat. He twisted around to look at Blaze, truly seeing him for the first time. A fire Monster, he’d known that much, his flames the deep purple of an old ugly bruise and whatever passed for his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned, exposing more purple flames and leading a path down to his undone belt. A warning of things to come and Rus couldn’t help trying to struggle again, twisting fruitlessly against the restraints.

“Manners,” Blaze chided. “You’re so certain? You haven’t even heard the bargain yet.”

“I don’t care what it is!”

“No?” Blaze leaned in closer, flames crackling close to Rus’s audial canal. “What if I agreed to let up on Edge and Red? I’ve been toying with them for some time, you’re simply a shiny new game piece. I’d let them be, no more long nights worrying about when the next strike comes. They’d keep their silly little club and all their sluts would be safe.” He leaned in, his breath pouring over Rus like the heat of an opened oven. “I’ve heard you’re quite fond of those whores, hmm? Did my little kitty tell me true?”

Rus said nothing, squeezing his sockets tightly shut as he tried to keep the memories from pouring in. He couldn’t, could only think of Lilith, her pretty, confused face filling his mind’s eye as she fell to lie bleeding in the street, only to be replaced by Mona in the same way, hurt and dying. Sweet Mona who’d been kind to him from the start, tried so hard to help him, who was studying to be a nurse to help other people, their people.

But it was what Blaze said next that sent the rising uncertainty and fear in Rus’s soul boiling, a heat to match the Flame Monster’s own as he said, “Oh, there’s also your brother. Adorable little thing, isn’t he? To be honest, he’s a little more to my tastes.”

Rus jerked around as much as he could, craning his neck to glare that smug face. “you stay the fuck away from my brother!”

“Well, now, I can’t do that unless I get to stay the fuck with you. What do you say?” Two blistering hot fingers curled under his chin, hooking into his jaw and flames licked and curled painfully around his face. “Tik tok, precious, limited time only. You spread your legs so easily for Edge, what’s one more?”

He didn’t bother saying that he and Edge had never had sex, not really. There was no point; even if this Monster, this monster, believed him, it would only be more fuel for the fire of his hatred. He’d probably be fucking delighted to hear it, one more thing he could take from them, one more cruelty to inflict. There was only one bargain available, this one, right here and now. Rus wasn’t so foolish as to believe Blaze was telling the truth, but if it only kept him away from Blue, bought them a little time, what other option did he have?

Tears burned, nearly as hot as that touch, trickling down his face and hissing to stinging steam as they fell against Blaze’s hand. He couldn’t even turn away, Blaze forcing him to look up into that hated face as he whispered out, “deal.”

“What was that, precious?” Blaze smirked. “Speak up.”

“i said deal!” Rus snarled.

“Perfect.” He let go of Rus and stood, unzipping his fly. Rus closed his sockets before seeing what it revealed, forced himself not to flinch away. He wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction. “Now let’s see how good you suck cock to start.”

“don’t ever recall you bein’ much of a rapist. guess you learn somethin’ new every day.”

That unexpected voice seemed to come from nowhere at first, slowly solidifying by the door. Blaze whirled around, his flames crackling in loud astonishment and Rus craned his head to see, a feeble blossom of hope sprouted in his soul.

Red stood leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his trouser pockets and a smoldering cigar clenched in his jagged teeth. His eye lights were their own flames, deep red coals that matched his cold grin. “what’s the matter? don’t ya know how to greet an old friend?”

“How did you—” The question was bitten off so hard Rus could practically hear the click of nonexistent teeth over Blaze fumbling with his fly, fastening his trousers again with haste.

“eh, wasn’t too hard.” Red pushed off the wall and wandered closer, dusting off the front of his suit jacket with an absent flick of ringed fingers. “kid is wired up like a gyftmas tree, got little ornaments tucked all over in his clothes. figured you’d find a way to snag him eventually, so best to be prepared.” Rus’s sneakers were lying abandoned near the foot of the bed and Red nudged them with the toe of his shiny, expensive loafer. “you’re gettin’ soft, hothead, shoulda stripped him bare where you first took ‘im.”

Blaze crossed his arms over his chest, flames rising in a flickering dance the only sign of his agitation. “You’re assuming I didn’t want you to find me.”

“true,” Red allowed.

“I admit, I was expecting your brother. It’s so rare for you to come out and play these days.”

“well, now you’ve got me on the monopoly board, so let’s get this over with.” From that angle, Rus could hardly see Red, only from the chest down. Two gold buttons from his vest were visible and the broad chain strung across it, jewelry instead of restrains. Always that ridiculous extravagance, he thought with bitter, near hysterical amusement, even now. “you know, always had a little regret at leaving you behind that day, but, eh. can’t ask someone to choose them over their brother, can you.”

Blaze made a sound like hissing steam. “you left me to die!”

“sure did,” Red agreed, with such bald unapologetic blandness that Rus cringed into the blanket beneath him. “but that’s an ‘us’ problem.”

“You abandoned me!” Now Blaze was huffing like a bellows, his flames darkening nearly to black, lashing and crackling around him. “We came up from the gutters together and you left me behind like I was nothing, like I was ash to be scraped from your shoes!”

“you always were a fucking drama queen.” Red only puffed on his cigar, utterly calm, as if he were arguing with someone in the market over the last head of cabbage, and Rus could only listen with distant, dizzy surreality. Even his tears were drying, leaving behind itchy trails on his face. “turnin’ shit into a dust feud, like there ain’t enough people out there that want us dead? yeah, we did, dragged ourselves out, spitfire, and you shoulda already known by then that my bro always comes first.”

Blaze said nothing, but he took a step back when Red came closer. One of his hands shifted to hover over Rus and he could feel the banked heat even from the distance, a warning to them both.

Not that Red seemed to care. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Rus, his words were careful, slow, as if repeating important directions to one who was easily lost. “been letting you blow off steam for a while now. lost some merchandise here and there, you’d stick your fat fingers into one of our pies and we’d lose a payday. that was fine.” A step closer and Rus could see his face now, Red’s grin wolfishly wide. “‘preciate ya leavin’ the school and the daycare alone. was a bitch settin’ those up without getting’ our names tangled up in ‘em.”

“Harming children is for Humans.” Bitterly spat, someone who’d met Humans on their terms too many times already.

“ain’t that the truth,” Red agreed lazily, His voice changed then, that easiness ceasing as it vanished into bitter, bitten cold, “gotta say though, i ain’t too keen on you threatenin’ my bro or his little pet.”

“They aren’t children. You’re here for him, then.” His hand dropped, settling in the small of Rus’s back and he couldn’t bite back a whimper at the sudden, aching heat licking at his bones. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you always were too concerned about those sluts of yours.”

“always were a sweet talker, fire crotch.” Red straightened briskly, tucking his hands back into his pockets. “time to get down to business. brought you somethin’ ya might want, thought you might consider makin’ a little swap.”

“How generous,” Blaze purred. The tension in him hadn’t eased, his flames still licking high, but he shifted like he’d found his footing. “You have nothing that I want, lover, not anymore.”

“no?” Red licked his teeth, his wet teeth gleaming in the lamplight. “not even a fresh supply of golden flower tea?”

Blaze went suddenly still, all that oozing smarm stilling into whispered astonishment. “You do not.”

“sure do.” Red pulled a hand from his pocket and dangled a small packet between two fingers. “fresh enough you can prolly smell it from there and plenty more where that came from.” He nodded in Rus’s direction, “only, he’s the direct line to it. you kill him, that’s it. supply begins and ends with the flower shop. you can have your fun with him if ya want but—” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling under his suit coat. “i ain’t about to tell ya how to do business, but if you want in, i don’t mind sharin’.” He licked his teeth again, his smile widening as it curled around a single word. “lover.”

Blaze rocked from foot to foot restlessly and even beneath the sunglasses, the shift of his gaze from the packet to Red’s grinning face was unmistakable. “The fuck you would!”

“the fuck i ain’t!” Red countered, “see, that’s the beauty of it. you know the value, dontcha. these rubes ain’t got a clue, not even my bro gets it, but you and me? sweetspark, you and i know the value of a buck, don’t we. an’ we definitely know the value of this.”

“You’re lying.” But the words were without heat, almost uncertain. Wanting to believe.

“you think i’d come here without proof.” Red opened the packet and poured a little into his palm. He blew across it, scattering dried petals into the air subtle scent of golden flowers filled the air. Rus could taste it, his mouth automatically watering at the familiar flavor. Golden flower tea was a palliative when he’d been growing up, Blue brewed it whenever Rus wasn’t feeling well, whether the sickness was one of the body or the soul. There was always a cup for them both on days their pop had been particularly cruel or drunk, soothing away the lingering hurts. To taste it now, here, was abhorrent.

Blaze spread his hands and the floating petals still hanging in the air disappeared in tiny flares in his palms, that familiar smell going burnt and bitter. “You left me.”

“yep, i did,” Red agreed, unapologetic. "shoulda known if the choice was between you and my bro, there ain't no choice. get that you’re pissed, have every right to be, but don't go blamin’ me for being exactly who ya always knew i was. now, if ya wanna let the flower shop go, then we’ve got a deal.”

“Do you swear it to me?” Blaze said. He didn’t look at Rus, neither of them did; he was nothing, only a pawn in their game. They were the major players, two kings on either side of a chess board, deciding who to sacrifice and who to spare.

“’course i do,” Red snorted, “you got my word, sweetspark. i promise ya.”

The two of them stood for a long, terrible moment in a heated tableau. Rus kept as still as possible, terrified of tipping the decision in the wrong direction. Then came the sound of a drawer sliding open, a painful, hot hand grabbing his wrist as a key slid into the lock. Blaze repeated it on each limb and Rus scrambled to sit up, nearly falling in his haste to get to Red.

“get your shoes on, flower shop,” Red told him, “wouldn’t wanna hurt your little tootsies before i take ya back to my bro.” Rus did as he was told, all but shoving his foot into his shoe as Red turned back to Blaze. “good to be doing business again with ya. we’ll work out the details, but first. shake on it like pals, yeah?”

He held out a hand and Blaze took it, but the sudden sound that came from Blaze made Rus jerk, looking up from his shoes to see Red using that grip to yank Blaze closer, down to his level. His sunglasses slipped down, exposing the hollows that passed for a fire Monster’s eyes gone wide, disbelieving. “You—”

The whisper died in a fall of dust scattering to the floor. Red only watched it fall in a dark, glittering cloud and the soul speared through with the sharpened bone still in his hand was the last to dissolve. No king, only another pawn taken from the board.

Red shook his head, tutting softly, and tossed the little packet of golden flowers onto the dustpile, the remaining petals scattering. “better luck next time, pal. least you went out with dollar signs dancin’ in your head.” He frowned at his dusty hand and pulled out a linen handkerchief that matched his shirt, wiping it off as he turned back to Rus. “normally woulda let one of my boys do it, but i guess i owed him that much, to take care a’ it personal-like.”

Rus couldn’t move, crouched there on the floor with one shoe on as he stared at Red with words clotting in his throat. “you…you…”

The wide slash of his grin only went wider. “go on, spit it out.”

“you killed him.” The last word broke on a sob.

"sure did," Red agreed. He looked at his cigar, his expression twisting in impatient disgust at the dust coating it. He tossed it aside and pulled out another, biting off the end and lighting it with a match struck on the bedpost. "hate to break a promise, too. been putting it off too long. kept hopin’ he’d get over it and sign back on, but he took it a lil’ too far.” Red shrugged. “eh, dogs are better anyway. loyal.”

He wandered past Rus towards the door, his voice floating back where Rus was still sitting with his shoe in his lap. “thanks for the help. knew he’d get his mitts on you eventually and lead the way to where he was holed up. didn’t figure on it goin’ that way, but it didn’t work out too bad, all things considered.” He turned back, one finger curling in a ‘come here’ gesture. “hurry up, kid, time to go.”

With one shoe still untied, Rus stumbled after him as Red led the way out of the room. They were in a large house of some sort, open and spacious where the Fell brothers’ home was all narrow hallways and mazes. No one tried to stop them as they made their way downstairs, every room echoing and empty, and Rus clung to the bannister to keep from falling. His mind still felt fuzzy and wrong, disbelieving, catching onto what Red had said minutes too late.

“you used me as bait?” A sob heaved out of Rus, helpless and wretched, followed by more, as if they’d been bottled up in his chest and now that the first escaped, they were bursting out like bubbles an opened bottle of soda.

"’course i fuckin’ did. you were a pain in the ass to boot, always takin’ off like ya did. made it harder to track whether you were just bein’ a shit or not.” Red paused on the landing impatiently as Rus tripped his way down. “knock it off with the waterworks, yer givin' me a headache."

Rus tried, hiccoughing painfully as he said, "he shot lilith."

"and she almost got you a fire dick up the ass for her troubles,” Red said. The raw crudeness made Rus wince, choking back his tears. “anyway, save the cryin’ for somethin’ important, she's fine. for now. all bandaged up and ready for a heap 'o regret for sellin’ you out."

"don't,” Rus blurted. “please. don't hurt her."

Red swung around to look at him and Rus couldn’t keep from flinching, stumbling back a step from that piercingly sharp gaze. "you defendin' her?"

"she didn't know how bad it was. she tried to stop him."

“regrettin’ after you fuck up don't mean you get off." Red started down the stairs again, but he sounded almost pensive as he said, "’course, she did get shot, that ain’t no summer picnic. i'll think about it."

Hardly soothing, but Rus nodded, relaxing a little as he wiped at his face with his sleeve, mumbling out, “thank you.

Red chuckled, low and rich with perverse humor. "heh, already thinkin' you won, kid? i ain’t as easy as my bro, said i’ll think about it.”

Outside was a long black car, expensive and indistinguishable. A Dog got out of the driver’s side and held open the door for them, Rus scrambling in after Red and sat on the seat opposite. The door wasn’t even closed when Red began rummaging through a little fridge, pulling out a clear crystal bottle of dark brown liquid. “here, have a drink. think you might need it.”

The entire bottle was probably more accurate, but it was better than nothing. Rus took the glass wordlessly, swallowing it all down in one gulp. He couldn’t hold back a grimace; the sharp burn of expensive whisky tried to wash away the taste of burnt golden flowers clinging inside his mouth, but it still lingered in his nasal cavity and he wondered dully if he’d ever be able to smell them again without remembering this moment.

Across from him, Red slumped back against the leather seat, sockets closed, his own glass dangling loosely from his broad fingers. His browbones were drawn together, a line of weariness between them and Rus suddenly wondered how long they’d been looking for him. There were no clocks in the backseat and the sun coming in through the tinted windows revealed nothing. Blue was probably hysterical and Rus couldn’t blame him, his own stupidity got him into trouble again, and Edge—

He didn’t want to think about Edge, not right now.

His mind refused to be blank, kept flittering about and Rus latched on to one of the questions lingering inside his skull, pointless and perfect for this moment. He held his own glass in both hands, the cool crystal slowly warming between them. “why was blaze so interested in golden flower tea?”

“that’s need to know, kid.” Red didn’t open his sockets as he took a sip from his glass.

“yeah, well, i need to know,” Rus said stubbornly. “you used me as bait, so tell me. why was he willing to let everything go over some stupid flowers?”

Those closed sockets slit open, the barest gleam of crimson gazing out at him. “heh. you think i owe you somethin’, flower shop?” Rus said nothing, afraid of agreeing, and Red’s sharp grin widened. “learnin’ how to be careful of those debts, huh. good for you.” He shifted in his seat, loosening his tie as he sighed. “but you got a point. okay, flower shop, here's the deal. see, most monsters and humans get a little relaxed with it, s’all. probably a strong cup of chamomile’d have the same affect.”

“unless ya have lv. golden flower tea is pretty damn useful for monsters with lv.” That sharp smile twisted unpleasantly. “sweet thing like you don’t know what it’s like carryin’ around a lump of charcoal in your chest. feel it burnin’ ya from the inside out…”

For once, Red looked away from Rus first, stared pensively into the dark depths of his glass. “that tea helps, a fucking lot. only once we came to the surface it was hard to find. don’t grow easy around here, not without help.” Red tossed back the rest of his glass and poured another, whiskey slopping out around the lip, spattering the little bar. When he offered the bottle to Rus, he accepted it, pouring more into his own glass. “ain’t had any in ages. not ’til you turned up, flower shop, you and your brother.” He chuckled roughly and shook his head. “mother angel’s mercy, fuckin’ florists of all things.”

“i didn’t know,” Rus admitted, and now that he did, he wasn’t sure if he regretted asking.

Red shrugged. “that ain’t no surprise, you ain’t got any lv and your bro don’t have enough to make any difference.”

That idle statement made Rus jerk, spilling whiskey down the front of his shirt. “my brother has lv?” His voice seemed too small, confined in that backseat.

Red paused and a brief, bothered expression flitted across his face before it smoothed again. “like i said, not enough to make any difference.” He finished off the last of his glass, the silence filled with only the hum of the engine and the tires against the road. “anyway, that’s enough explanations for you. ya did me a favor helpin’ me get a lead on that old flame burnin’ up my ass. think i might owe ya a little extra for a rough time. so tell me, whaddya want?”

Outside the tinted windows, the real world blurred past them. The really real world, where the worst thing that ever happened was a rude barista might mess up your order or a Human might call an insult from the other side of the road, and Rus never hesitated. “i want to go home. i don’t belong in all this.”

“eh, that’s already on the table.” Red crushed out the stub of his current cigar and lit another, the burning smell from the match nearly making Rus heave. “what else you got?”

“that you leave my brother alone!”

Red exhaled a cloud of foul smoke and shook his head, “that’s ‘tween me and him. care for a third try before ya strike out?”

His empty glass thudded to the carpeted floor as Rus buried his face in his hands, trying to catch his breath. He should let it go, drop the pretense of ever balancing the sheet between them. He’d be back home soon, back to the shop and the normalcy, nothing but bouquets and daydreams, oh, the daydreams. There was one thing yet that he wanted with self-destructive desperation, and the words came out barely muffled by his bony fingers, clear and stark. “i want one night, with him. with your brother. no strings attached.”

“you think i can get you that, huh? well, honey, you hit the jackpot.” Through his fingers, he could see Red’s eye lights glittering, the deep, burning crimson of a devil or maybe a djinn from the stories Blue read to him as a child. Looking at them sent a shiver down Rus’s spine like a sin even as Red spoke, his voice rough and amused as he offered a single word.

“done.”

tbc

[reynie-muldoons]

'The Art of Conveyance and Round-Trippery' Liveblog!

Sorry this is a few days late!! I moved across the country this weekend, we drove like 13 hours within 2 days and we did a lot of heavy lifting. I'm exhausted, but the boxes are slowly emptying and I've been wanting to watch this episode so gd bad, so LESGO

Over halfway through the season!!!! That's absolutely surreal

1:11 oooh they're getting their royal fitting

1:22 LMAOO WTF 😂😂 Princess Diaries vibes

1:42 ✨CONFIDENCE✨

1:52 Alfonse is a perfect name for that guy HAHA

2:05 Nathaniel, my guy, you've made some points

2:11 "do you feel your power?" POWER RANGERS, GO

2:24 no no hesitation just prolly thinkin bout how he was caught cheatin

2:39 "can you not allow yourselves luxury?" okay fr I feel that I get Nice Things Guilt(tm) too easily

2:52 dayummmm let's talk about Sticky being a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, mans is brave as fuck under extreme pressure and loyal to the point of putting himself on the line

3:15 bro Sticky getting some recognition. Love to see it, he deserves it

3:19 "is that a coincidence? Or written in the stars?" IS DR. CURTAIN CATCHING ON THAT THEY KNEW EACH OTHER BEFORE OR LIKEEEE

3:49 WHAT WORD AROUND CAMPUS 😭😭😭 MY BOYS ARE NOT A MISTAKE HOW DARE YOU

4:09 why doess the action of Dr. Curtain putting the sash on them seem so nefarious

4:36 I dont really understand the whole pastel yellow, blue, and pink palette of the school but the boys both look pretty okay in their vest-sash getup

4:42 THE OPENINGGGGG. This shit slaps.

5:41 Kate and Constance look so fucking cute in that shot, dont ask me why but hnnggggg

5:54 sash rope 😂😭 kate, honey, that's a reach

6:09 it might feel buttery, but, my guy, it also looks buttery. It's literally the color of butter. Get yourself some crisco

6:24 I find it kinda interesting that they made up new riddles for the show, I'm almost positive that that one wasn't in the book. Correct me if I'm wrong though

7:03 "I'm not gonna apologize for knowing things" the sass. the ✨confidence✨. living for it

7:03 If they build on that it sets Sticky up really nicely for the arc in the second book where he starts to show off a little

7:15 tiny Constance who is constantly dressed in pink with cute little braids is the perfect medium for the most morbid comments 😂😂

7:55 Martina's hot in her uniform. Can't prove me wrong.

8:15 why does that make me sad 🥺 eat with your friendssss. iirc they only talked about eating at the Messenger table in the books

8:26 dipshits forgot their lunches. Seems Constance is holding the communal braincell atm

8:50 anyone have Guiness on speed dial? Reynie and Sticky have a submission for them

9:25 oh hello this was alluded to in the preview!!! Morse code is compromised, rip

10:05 so are Jackson and Jillson stuck with night guard duty all the time?? They've been outside at night a lot

10:18 ahhhhhh the little blinkie light, stopppp

10:25 MILLIGANNNNN!!!

10:25 so is this the point where he starts staying on the island with them????

10:39 so are they just like "fuck it we'll do it right before sundown" ???? Like Jackson and Jillson are still gonna be on the lookout, they aren't gonna chill just because it's not fully dark

10:50 did the kids.....just not tell them that Mr. Bloom was on the island 😂 nice oversight guys

11:05 MADGE TIME MADGE TIME

11:05 remind me to tell you guys a story about Madge, I may or may not have done something irl a few years ago that would make y'all proud 😂😂😂

11:16 idk why but it makes me so happy that they kept Madge as a peregrine falcon

11:37 Rhonda, my love, you have my heart in your hands

11:46 roll credits

12:05 THE HEAD SHAKE HAHAHAH

12:06 Awww man, I was so excited for Milligan to be on the island .-. He must have been scoping out the inlet

12:07 "they're quite regal" A. I read the subtitles as "legal" the first time and that's somehow really in character for him, and B. IS MILLIGAN GOING TO NAME HER???!? HER MAJESTY???? PLEASE I WOULD LOVE THAT SO MUCH

12:15 his grimace KILLS ME

12:17 the hard cut from Nicholas in a brown setting and brown suit to Nathaniel in a blue setting and blue suit was lowkey striking

12:36 are they looking up Morse code 😳 can you imagine if they wrote down the message and are now decoding it

12:41 omfg all that for a HAT 🙃 I feel stupid

12:51 two things: 1. Those walls are atrocious, and 2. Yeah, talk about Morse code in a louder voice Connie girl, you're just in a public hallway

13:03 I'm sorry but those orange pillar things are not the vibe

13:03 the golden gate bridge called, they want their arches back

13:10 please let Kate climb the tower before the end of season 1. please.

13:22 y'all are about to be flying something else 😎

13:33 cleansing breaths

13:47 OH HELLO MESSENGER DUTY ALREADY??

14:06 what the heck is that teal pole for 😭😭

14:12 blindfold timeeee

I'm so sorry but I'm exhausted, it's 11:30 pm on Sunday night right now, I'll finish this episode tomorrow morning after I get some sleepies

~~

Good morningggg lesgetatit

14:50 "vomit of metal" ashhdjdjd

15:16 a wild Martina appears!

15:36 and if you folks look to your left, you'll see a wild Constance being the voice of reason once again

15:57 "lose the bucket" "I'm not gonna do that" HELL YEAH KATE

16:07 I get not having the bucket on the court lolol, I thought Martina was telling Kate to lose the bucket in general. Like, yeah, good luck convincing her to so that

16:35 show!Kate is much angrier than book!Kate and I'm still deciding how I feel about that. The Kate we've known from the books is a sunshine baby with looots of repressed trauma.

17:03 ......what is that. why is that.

17:11 WAIT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE REYNIE AHEHDJDJD

17:15 HI MADGE

17:41 the grand swell in the music makes me think it's going to go comically wrong

17:51 she's majestic because she's a queen 🥺

18:03 LMAO CALLED IT

18:14 Rhonda and Number Two getting at each other is such a sisterly thing to do 😂😂😂

18:37 ohhhhh? Someone's approaching? Miss Perumal perhaps????

18:45 YEAHHHHH BABY

18:50 PROTECTIVE MOM COMIN IN HOT!!!

19:22 THEYRE SO PRECIOUS 😭😭😭😭 I feel like I've been subconsciously starved for her and Mr. Benedict's interactions

19:36 died at that line in the one trailer

20:00 so Miss Perumal pulled a Sherlock Holmes. Love that for her

20:20 Cheri Tupintown??? Of all the aliases they could pick, Cheri Tupintown???

20:33 "Power in Truth Inc" that HAS to be something Rhonda came up with

21:01 you can literally watch Mr. Benedict realize that this is a woman not to be fucked with and he is CORRECT

21:23 "he's fine. Perfectly fine." At this, Mr. Benedict's pants caught aflame.

21:52 something about Constance sitting in on practice!!! It scratches an itch!!!!

22:19 "incorporate the helix. Live in the helix." Lord Helix is pleased with this offering.

22:26 so what I'm hearing is Kate is going to blow up on Constance for messing with the bucket

23:13 unrelated but Jillson'a shoes are cute

23:29 why does this room give off Johnny Depp's willy wonka vibes

24:13 that looks like a chair from a doctor's office waiting room 😭

25:29 they do be egg heads tho

26:02 baby girl, I have no idea why you're crying at weird art but let me dry your tears 🥺🥺

26:50 SHE FOUND ITTTT

27:27 okay Indiana Jones, go off

27:46 why did that kinda sound like Miss Perumal

28:43 the return of everyone's favorite, "enjoyable"

29:05 not that I'm not loving the ice breaker questions and the one-sided conversation, but I'm not loving it

29:22 oh so we're getting right into it aren't we

29:54 his eyes being open again makes this infinitely creepier

30:36 "where's your proof?" Miss Perumal doesnt fuck around!!!

31:29 you're telling me Constance has been there all day?? And Kate went to find her???? 🥺

31:58 oh so we're getting right to it then?? Kate addressing her independence and trust issues arc????

33:29 NEWS!!!!

33:49 CONSTANCE RIDING PIGGYBACK!!!!!!

34:04 okay, so they opened the murder hole, what are they gonna do now

34:59 Italian? 🤨 m'sir that is so fancy

34:59 fun story I learned Italian diction in college, so I know a little bit

35:16 "take your time" the whisperer says, immediately repeating the prompt to get the answer sooner

35:31 theeeeere it is

35:46 SOMETHING ABOUT THE WHISPERER SAYING "YOU ARE HOME" 😭😭😭 the show really played up the cult shit!!

36:02 Kate being protective of Constance 🥺

36:20 ohhh shit is it time for Connie girl to have double Reynie? Double Sticky?

36:36 STICKY

36:52 "what kind of nonsense?" HAVE THEY NOT ASKED THAT BEFORE THIS?????

37:14 "and your tiny brain can somehow pick it up!!" KATE STOP 😂😂😂

37:16 "I knew you had to be special in some way." WE DONT HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT

37:51 she's right, this is disregard for their safety. The show made Mr. Benedict and his team a lot more back-alley and dishonest, and Miss Perumal has every reason to be pissed

38:30 oh good they finally remembered he has narcolepsy

39:38 and the best mom award goes to:

40:38 I was gonna say that this hallway is how I imagined the KEEP in riddle of ages but then I remembered that (spoilers) the Institute is the KEEP

40:46 oh, hello propoganda

41:10 that's the other person Rhonda couldn't contact, along with Mr. Bloom. This has to be the brainsweeping process

41:22 yeppppp

41:44 this dark doctor's office theme gives me horror movie vibes

42:22 ohhhh, so that's how they replaced that scene where the four of them jump in a crate to hide and Sticky drops his glasses in the open

42:47 and so we've come to the part of the story where Sticky and Reynie become infinitely more conflicted

42:47 and since we've reached that point..... can we have the white knight scene? Pretty please? Please Disney I'm begging you-

43:12 so Reynie just figured that out without Constance? :/

44:03 love the manipulation

44:31 I'm sorry, the farm?

44:35 farm and forest????

45:16 "the Emergency has served its purpose" 😳 well okay then murder man

45:39 "one thought, one purpose" the hive mind rises once more

45:48 LOVE THE MANIPULATION

46:07 "what have you done to earn anyone's trust?" VALID

46:26 "please do!" WHY AM I EMOTIONAL

47:06 "we still have the falcon" that you do 😂

47:19 AYYY HERE WE GO!!! Time for Milligan to stay on the island??

47:49 ohhhh Constance, casual telepath strikes again

48:16 "stop it, Kate!" OOOOHHHHH

48:53 that line ("it would be nice to be unburdened") would be funny as shit if not for the fact that Constance is a telepath unbeknownst to herself and can both subconsciously perceive people's thoughts and hear the subliminal messages

49:20 HI MRS. PERUMAL!!!

49:25 wow, she's really going through with it 😳 not that I doubted her, but still, that's dedication

49:39 OH SHIT

50:17 oh, so he's an asshole to SQ too. Got it. Torches and pitchforks? Ready to kick his ass?

50:40 "for the moment, anyway" FUCKIN WHAT

This episode was really good!!! They covered a LOT. I hope Miss Perumal comes back to the group and talks about her findings, I hope Milligan goes to get the kids and they tell him no, and I hope they get that classic 4-person Society brainstorming and binding time that hits that sweet spot

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 19: Hands Off

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18

Word count: 2587

TW for self harm

"So you're tellin' me absolutely nothin' is goin' on between you two?" Between sessions, Harley had come to visit Elianna in her office for a chat. "Aren't you still staying at his place?" It seemed that the blonde still had yet to give up on the idea of El and Jonathan together; the only difference now was that she had ended up being right (a fact that the redhead had made sure to remind him of as they laid in bed catching their breath the day before. He hadn't found it quite as funny as she did).

"Yeah—wait, how did you know that?"

"I was pullin' into the parking lot behind you guys this mornin'."

"Uh-huh, we drove separately, stalker." El quirked an eyebrow with an expectant smile.

"Right, so you just happened to arrive at the same time? Just 'cause you didn't take the same car doesn't you're not comin' from the same place."

"Alright, alright," El laughed. "He's got some errands to run after work, so I promised to make dinner."

"Aww," Harley exaggerated the syllable, knowing it would get under her friend's skin.

"Oh, cut it out." El rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I already told you, nothing is going on." The blonde just laughed in response. "Hey, how's your big case coming along?"

As Harley enthusiastically began to tell whatever she could about her sessions with the self-named Poison Ivy, El used the distraction as an opportunity to recall the day before smugly to herself.

Already, the recent change in their relationships had its ups and downs. On the one hand, it almost seemed like a dam had burst; their dynamic flowed more smoothly, and for her part, she felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. On the other, when he had told her that morning that he had to oversee the handling of that night's delivery personally (since Batman had effectively put Falcone out of commission), her usual worry for his safety had doubled.

Something that Elianna and Jonathan had in common was a lack of experience with real relationships. As such, they shared a sense of profound importance in regards to the new arrangement. It would take some work to balance the now heightened concern they held for each other.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was in his office trying in vain to occupy his mind by shuffling through the stack of administrative paperwork that the warden's office couldn't be bothered to sort through before sending it to him. Between the unexpected hitch in the master plan and trying as hard as he could to not think about El (on that count, Scarecrow was actively working against), he was struggling to make it through even the very basics of his job.

At that moment, for example, he was grappling with his schedule for the day. Falcone had been taken to Blackgate and apparently had been asking to see him for a few days. Jonathan had been putting off visiting the mobster since he had found out; he had been caught by a civilian in a cape and a mask; what could he possibly have to discuss with such a disappointment to the underworld? Today, however, he had received word that the older man had cut his wrists, and the administration at Blackgate had sent for him specifically.

As if that weren't enough, he had already had to clear his schedule for that night to oversee the shipment, given that Falcone was now indisposed.

There was no getting around it, though, he supposed, and found himself back in the car en route to Blackgate. However, the drive wasn't nearly long enough for Jonathan to quell his frustration in Falcone's incompetence, and before too long was meeting with the mobster's caseworker.

"Doctor Crane, thanks for coming." There was a thinly disguised urgency in her voice as she greeted him.

"Not at all," he replied, barely remembering to keep his tone patient. "He cut his wrists?" How irritating it was to fake concern.

"Probably looking for the insanity plea," well, at least the woman was pragmatic, "but if anything should happen..."

"Of course, better safe than sorry." He nodded as they approached the door to the private room that Falcone had been brought to. With that, the caseworker unlocked the door to let Jonathan in and let the door swing closed behind him.

Falcone didn't skip a beat. "Hey, Doctor Crane, I can't take it anymore. It's all too much; the walls are closing in, blah blah blah," the old man rambled dryly. "Couple more days of this food, it'll be true." Jonathan found himself steeling himself against the urge to let Scarecrow come out as he settled into his chair.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut." The ego of a powerful man is truly something indigestible, isn't it?

"About what? You don't know anything about the operation."

"Maybe not specifics, sure, but I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized. I know about your experiments with the inmates of your nuthouse." Jonathan listened and watched as patiently as he could as the tiresome man continued to talk. "See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets." At this point, Scarecrow was banging against the proverbial walls of their brain, desperate to retaliate. "Those goons you used. I own the muscle in this town. Now I've been bringing your stuff in for months. So whatever he's planning, it's big. And I want in."

Can you believe the balls on this guy? Let me out, Jonny.

Not yet; he still doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Well, I already know what he'll say. That we should kill you." Just because we haven't yet doesn't mean that we won't, old man.

"Even he can't get me in here. Not in my town." Jonathan was growing tired of this conversation very quickly.

"Your town." The psychiatrist repeated, not a question—a mockery. The older man's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, did I forget to ask? How rude of me, I forgot the most important part. How is your little lady friend from the asylum?" here the mobster leaned in threateningly, "Does she know what you're doing? What's gonna happen to her once you go down, I wonder. Maybe I'll send some people to make sure she's not alone, huh?"

Now that caught Jonathan's attention. The rest of Falcone's little threats were easily avoided; even he didn't have the power to endanger Ra's Al Gul's plans. He did, however, have the power to have unspeakable things done to Elianna. That would not stand.

Jonathan made his decision from there quickly. Scarecrow was overjoyed that El had been brought into the discussion, knowing that Jon would have to take it seriously, and was raring to be in control.

Jonathan sighed and removed his glasses, hearing the straw man begin to cheer in the back of his mind. "Would you like to see my mask?" He asked, opened his briefcase without waiting for an answer, popped open the false bottom, and reached for the mask, ignoring the several full syringes waiting to be used. He had added a new rig to the case, and it was as good a time as any to test it out. "I use it in my experiments. Now, I'm probably not very threatening to a guy like you," he continued, holding up the mask for emphasis, "but these crazies? They can't stand it."

With that, he made to put the mask on and let Scarecrow take over.

He could barely hear Falcone's quip about the nut taking over the nuthouse over the ever surreal feeling of taking the backseat in his own brain.

Once his face was secured, Scarecrow took great pleasure in pressing the button to release the cloud of toxin. The screams of terror began almost instantaneously, much to his delight, and he rose from his chair to loom over the mafioso.

"They scream, and they cry," he teased with menacing glee. "Much as you're doing now." Jonathan allowed Scarecrow a few more seconds of enjoyment before regaining control. They still had to leave undetected, and Scarecrow couldn't be trusted to be professional. As much as Jonathan enjoyed hearing the man who had dared to threaten El scream, he was more trustworthy when it came to subterfuge.

"Well, he's not faking," Jonathan cleared his throat as he reentered the hallway, greeted by the caseworker's concerned face. "Not that one." He was still a bit flustered by the rush of inflicting such horror upon someone. Move on, Jonathan, act normal. It was a bit of a blur after that, promising to talk to the judge and get Falcone transferred to Arkham before making his way back to the Asylum himself. He still had a few patients to see before he could punch out to oversee the shipment that evening.

However, once the rush wore off, Jonathan found his mind wandering back to what Falcone had said about El. Who knew what he could have told his people already? He stopped by El's office before returning to his own and was surprised to find her no longer there. A quick phone call to the secretary at the front desk told him that she had already left for the day—another phone call to find that her cell phone was dead.

Shit.

Jonathan forced himself back to the matter at hand, telling himself that she was fine, but the lingering worry stayed in the back of his mind.

For about an hour and a half at least, when he decided that he was done with work for the day. The sooner he could take care of business, the sooner he could rush home to make sure she was there.

In the car on his way to the meeting site, Jonathan tried calling her again to no avail.

I really need to get a home phone for the apartment; he cursed to himself.

He found himself unable to focus on the task at hand as he parked his car and got into the one being driven by the goons provided by Falcone. Any of them could have received orders at any point to take El, hurt her, anything. He had no way of knowing if instructions had already been given or what liberties were allowed should anything happen to her.

Behind his impassive expression, Jonathan was operating almost solely on autopilot, getting out of the car and entering the old apartment that served as a drop point. This one had already been used twice before, and given how close the end date was, he had already decided to eradicate any and all evidence once the job was done.

He looked disinterestedly over the pile of stuffed bunnies, appraising the shipment's size, doing quick calculations in his head to the best of his ability. After concluding that it was, in fact, the correct amount, he gestured to the goons to retrieve the substance from inside of the toys. "Get rid of all traces."

Jonathan couldn't help the disgusted look around the dilapidated apartment. He couldn't think of anywhere he wanted to be less at that moment. Distracted by the sheer quantity of distasteful thoughts swirling in his mind, he was almost startled when Scarecrow spoke suddenly.

There's someone else here.

That statement froze all other concerns as he tuned in to his environment. He barely registered one of the thugs telling the others to torch the apartment as he noticed a prickling on the back of his neck, as well as the open window.

Jonathan remained calm and in control as the other men began to douse the furniture in gasoline while he moved to examine the window.

Are you sure?

Before the straw man could answer, the sound of shattering glass from the other room stole Jonathan's attention from the window.

Yes, came the smug response. Wasting no more time, Jonathan let the other goon move to investigate and instead moved into the shadows to retrieve his mask.

You're up again, Scarecrow. Do it fast; we have to get home.

Yeah, yeah, you've been annoying me for hours; she's fine. Would you shut up about it? Retaliated Scarecrow as he forced Jonathan out of the driver's seat and took over, relishing in the drama of wearing his face again.

That moment didn't last for very long before his suspicions were confirmed, and the Batman himself burst into the room, swiftly incapacitating the leftover thug. Luckily, Scarecrow's reflexes were just as fast, and he released a cloud of toxin from their sleeve rig, which hit the caped crusader squarely in the face.

The effects were almost instantaneous, judging by the wide eyes behind the cowl and the erratic, flailing movements. Scarecrow stifled a laugh as the armored man toppled backward away from him.

"Take a seat," he taunted, thoroughly enjoying his playtime, "have a drink." Here he seized a bottle of vodka abandoned by his now useless goons. The staw man snarled mentally, understanding Jonathan's intolerance of incompetence. They would be eradicated along with the evidence of their crimes. Splashing the booze on the caped man in delight, he continued to tease him.

"You look like a man who takes himself too seriously." Scarecrow abandoned the now empty bottle and replaced it in his hand with a zippo lighter that El had left in their pocket.

Wait, she loves that thing-

We'll buy her a new one, pipe down.

He had corraled Batman in front of the window and sparked the lighter, extending it in front of him menacingly. "Do you want my opinion? You need to lighten up." With that, he tossed the lighter, which ignited the caped crusader and the old rug in seconds.

This allowed them a swift escape, as Batman threw himself out the window and plummeted with the rain onto the pavement several stories below. Wasting no time, Scarecrow had them outside and in the getaway car. Luckily, there was a spare key in the visor, and they sped down the street in the direction of where they had left their car.

Slow down! We're attracting attention; we don't need that.

You're the one who's been bitching about getting home for the past few hours.

Not letting up for a second, Scarecrow turned a fifteen-minute drive back to Jonathan's car into a five-minute one before finally retreating to his place in the back of their mind. Of course, on principle, Jonathan was still irritated with Scarecrow for behaving so recklessly, then leaving him to deal with any potential consequences. Still, he was glad for the saved time.

By this point, Jonathan was so frenzied with panic about El's wellbeing that he couldn't even think about their own run-in with the Batman. Still ten minutes away from home, he tried to call her cell once again. Still no answer.

Why the fuck won't she pick up?

Scarecrow didn't respond, finally picking up just how agitated the whole situation had made his counterpart. Best not to rile him up further.

Jonathan nudged the car faster. Only a few minutes away, but it felt like forever. He was so frantic to get home and see Elianna safe that he couldn't even think of what he would do if she weren't. No game plan, not even a shadow of one because she's okay. Or so he kept telling himself.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] Also on AO3

Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable—”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover,  but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

[ushioka]

Distant

I haven't written in a long time, and my creativity has been severely lacking, but I'm still here, managing and loaded with internalized thoughts and sentiments. The last few months have been surreal to me. Everything around me seems to be moving too quickly or too slowly. When I return to reality, I see how quickly time passes and how things change. Everything slows down when I'm lost in my thoughts, and oblivious to my shifting surroundings. I suppose you could say I'm far from fully living in the moment, but I tend to hide from it. When I lived in California, I spent most of my teen years telling myself that life will take its course and that all I have to do is wait for my life to feel normal or better. I told myself this in my head without doing anything to change it. Instead, I lazily went through social media, watching other people and friends live more and become more responsible than me. If there's a word or phrase that comes to mind to describe life like that, it's miserable, or feeling trapped in a bird's nest when others are already flying out. Knowing you have the ability to succeed, yet your shoulders are dragged down by a heavy feeling of melancholy, confusion, demotivation, and fear. Months pass by while you're cooped up in your room, and it feels as though you've grown roots to ur bed. I'd really want believe in chance and coincidences, but everytime they appear in my life, they become phases. Getting an opportunity, having the mindset of achieving, or putting your whole heart and soul into something, just to fall back to square one. I understand that this isn't for everyone, but I envy those that are given an opportunity and use it to build their own success and future, they allow themselves to run with it. I'm almost 18, not 17, 16, or 13, and I'm just one number away from being considered an adult, who’s supposed to beready and prepared to begin their lives. I know a lot of people will tell me that 18 isn't when everything will change, but it is when it will start. It's difficult to notice when there have been so many changes but no firm start with a solid foundation. It feels like I'm on a very zigzag line that isn't at all parallel to other people's lines, but we're both moving forward at the same time because that's simply life; it doesn't stop for you. I may be all over the place, constantly doing new things and failing miserably, but at the very least, I've developed ten different personalities as a result of it, and I know what kind of person I can and cannot be. Like i said i’m no longer in california but indiana the name sounds less fancy and less expensive truly. but it’s that one state almost in the middle of the map that’s there but not favored. When i think of indiana i think of corn and old people, why old people? because it’s the perfect place to retire and buy a home after living a crazy expensive life and job in a booming city. Just calm and very still. People who have lived a life they knew would be tough and worthy admire me because they knew nothing in life would ever be flawless or easy, but they put themselves through college and jobs and awful people to just go to a more difficult work environment. It shows that it is possible to be in difficult situations and still make the best of them, earn money, and be successful. know I should surround myself around those individuals, and I have, but they are typically much older than me, having lived half their lives already, and they despise hearing my nonsense and excuses about how afraid I am or how I haven't experienced mine yet. For example, my grandmother and I are extremely different people, but sometimes a conversation isn't the best. She'll get irritated and angry listening to me talk about how far behind I've fallen, because it's nowhere near a successful life. She'll see me do things that everyone should be able to do but that I struggle with. She'll be furious because she knows I'm capable of so much more. But, while I cringe, she'll tell me how she did this and that when she was this age, and how I can do the same.

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (17)

Chapter 17: Deliverance | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC | Special tags: Sixth Sister! Fem OC, Inquisitor! Fem OC, Twi’lek Inquisitor, OC Twi’lek

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 | Previous: Part 16 | Next: Part 18 | Masterlist

17 of ?

Jidné strolled to the meadow and settled herself by the bank of the waterfall’s pool, something about that spot calmed her and so she chose it as a meditation spot. She unclipped her saber from her belt, nestling it in the curve of her palm and then her other hand cradled the three strands of beads. The smooth, dainty baubles ran between her forefinger and thumb as her hand followed its length.

She clutched onto the longer strand, the chipping of the color at the edges were more visible when brought closer, the dust that never washed away reminded her of the Purge; the Jedi holds her saber with both hands with great care and devoutness.

“Master…” the air answered her call, a gust of cold wind blew the wisps of her fringe, it’s as though the wind cradled her face in its hands.

She urged herself to open her eyes, and slowly, she did just so.

Standing in front of her again is a vision of her late master, but this one is very much different than the last. A venerable air loomed around the figure of the vision, compared to the last one that felt stale, heavy, and hostile.

“You’re right, I’m may not be the Padawan you trained and hoped to be… but I’m the Padawan you left behind—along with the teachings you’ve given me all my life.”

The walking memory spoke nothing, instead, she smiled and walked closer. Nomara’s Force Ghost was just two paces shy from the line between water and land. She knelt in the same manner as her broken apprentice, now grown into a young woman and no longer a child, in Jidné’s eyes the appearance of Nomara’s ghost was so opaque that she almost seemed real.

“Master… If that was your way of testing me, then whatever the result I will accept—it just means I have a long way to go, but I know you’ll always be there to guide me… like you always have.”

Jidné wondered if her hand would feel soft, warm flesh. She was startled by the answer of her unspoken question when the Force Ghost’s hand nestled under her jaw. From that touch, her heart leaped wildly, skipping a beat one after the other; she couldn’t pinpoint if this was grief or joy—whichever it was, she perfectly knows that she’s been yearning this comforting touch from Master Anesh.

Tears streamed ceaselessly from her eyes, her breath shuddered as she tried to regain the rhythm of her breathing while savoring the feeling of Anesh’s touch—albeit only a vision. The Force Ghost never spoke a word, but the genuine, affirming smile didn’t disappear. The Jedi girl’s eyelids drooped, savoring the surreal yet warm caress of her master, she dared to hoist her own hand up to clutch back the hand… only to touch her own jaw.

Her eyes shot up and found the waterfall’s pool absent of any Force Ghost standing on the water as if it was the floor. Although, it felt like she’s had some kind of closure, and that was enough. Jidné mounted a Q’aval and she spurred the steed, galloping to an area of the forest where she and Cal have agreed to meet.

“Did I make you wait too long?” the girl beamed, dismounting the animal.

“Not really,”

The pair hiked through the forest, finding eroded structures such as a bridge over the river in the deeper part of the woods, hinting that this location must have connected to Diitana and its other villages before the overgrowth set in.

Jidné scaled the thick railing of the bridge and walked on its length like a tightrope as they walked. She slightly bobbed left and right, Cal held her one hand that’s closest to him as she continued to gently tread the bridge’s fence.

“Be careful or you’ll fall,”

“Would you catch me if I did?”

“Sure I will!”

Cal caught Jidné, holding her by the waist as she hopped down once she’s reached the end; her bead tassels faintly rattled and swung wildly after landing on the balls of her feet back onto the soil. The two were faced with a wide section of the woods, shaded by the great trees forming a large canopy over their heads—shielding them from the sun—and framed by the river snaking along the edge where the bridge stood.

At first glance, there was an eerie emptiness to it, which Cal found oddly serene and calming. He felt Jidné’s grip loosening around his fingers, he took it as a sign of caution; he takes notice of her irises carefully rolling from one side to the other, examining the breadth.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I…” she trailed off. “I thought I heard something. Probably an animal.”

The girl’s feet hesitated another step forward. Cal gently dragged her along and her legs were finally coaxed into moving. Jidné dismisses whatever it is that she felt as nothing—though her senses were still keen from earlier, the feeling that was left behind in her after that last encounter with Nomara’s Force Ghost is still fresh in her.

“What do you think was in here before?” the redhead wondered out loud.

Looking around, it seemed to be an open base until it was eventually abandoned for reasons unknown. Small structures and machines still stood, however, they’re already riddled with signs of negligence and weathering over time.

“Could’ve been a town outpost,” guessed Jidné. “Looks like one anyway.”

The two explored the desolate checkpoint, as well as ID-3 and BD-1 who filled their databanks with tons of scans around the place. Cal did more investigating rather than exploring it: picking up objects and using his Psychometry on them. He takes a small, tattered leather satchel leaning against one of the vapor towers and detects its Force Echo.

“This was place was an outpost all right, this was also a hotspot for wandering traders,”

“Until no one came here anymore,” Jidné finished.

“Wooo…” the probe droid lowed a sad yet spooked tone at Jidné’s sentence, to which she immediately consoled him that nothing’s going to hurt them in there.

On the northernmost point of the outpost was a path that may lead to the badlands, but the view comprised mostly path that connects the transitioning from desert to forest—and vice versa—as well as a view of the trenches that framed the road.

“Travelers who came from the direction of the badlands surely stopped here for rest and restocking supplies, until they reached Diitana,” the girl hypothesized.

“Well, that does explain some of the cluttered stuff. Do you think they were in a hurry to leave?”

“More like in a hurry to run,”

Cal shot her a look with a raised eyebrow, “From what?”

Both heads jerked to the empty space in front of them, their attention drawn by an incoherent roar in the distance followed by the rustling of the treetops and startled birds.

“Probably that,��� blurted the girl.

“Come on, let’s mosey on other places where that thing won’t find us,”

It was most unusual for a pair of Jedi to take a stroll into the heart of the forest, though the fresh air that filled their lungs and the tranquility put their worries at bay. They came across another bank and rested there, refreshing their parched throats with the sweet, clear water.

“You know, you fit right in the crew,” Cal blurted out of nowhere.

The girl turned around and sat beside the redheaded Jedi, curious to know more with what he said.

“Oh?” she drew her legs up so she can rest her chin atop her knees. “You’d want me to tag along?”

“Why not? We can travel as a pair with our ships, I didn’t say we’d leave your freighter behind,”

Jidné smiled at the idea. She felt warm and fuzzy all of a sudden, then her mind began imagining what misadventures she, Cal, and the crew would bump into. The Mantis crew had a different flavor of fun in their mishaps, Jidné almost missed that feeling—it would’ve been nice to experience it all over again, this time, she won’t be alone in doing so.

“You’ll have more time to think about it later,” Cal leaned closer and planted a kiss on her forehead, the quick peck took her by surprise—the same way his kiss on her cheek did—and scrambled up to his feet, offering her his hand in the next second.

They decided to take on the path where the road connects the forest and badlands—a canyon pass, which they learned its moniker from the locals: the Red Wall. They stepped out of the green and yonder into the blood-orange trench. The roof of the trench was a gaping space where the sun managed to peek its rays through, as the two walls of rock split open to produce a wide, winding path.

As one would expect, the desert was barren and almost devoid of anything organic. The canyon was no stranger to that setting. The wind was beginning to pick up and dust was pricking the two youngsters’ faces so they shield themselves with the flaps of their cowl and poncho until the gust dies down. When it did, ID-3’s rather sensitive scanners were picking a signal, his tiny satellite dish spinning erratically on his head.

“What is it, ID?”

“BEEE-TRILL!!! CHIRP!”

“What?!”

Before Jidné could understand what ID-3 meant by “a lot of Imperial signals” the collective clicking sound of blaster rifles being cocked came from all directions, white-clad figures started materializing through the setting sand, but what alarmed the two young Jedi the most was the sound of a third saber being activated—followed by a throaty yet feminine chuckle.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Cal moaned.

The sand had finally cleared, and just like in Jidné’s memory, they were surrounded by Stormtroopers, led by a red female Twi’lek clad in a black ensemble with the bright white insignia of the Empire stamped on her gauntlets.

The Sixth Sister carried herself in a menacing yet graceful stride, emphasizing her height over the pair whom she perceived as mere children; her lightsaber—as crimson as her skin-glowed in her hand, while a smirk plays along the edge of her lips.

Cal ignited her saber upon sight of the new Inquisitor, readying himself in a defensive starting stance as he usually does, the smirk in the enemy’s lips grew. Due to his spiked alertness, he didn’t realize that Jidné hasn’t activated hers, instead, she stuck close against his back—quite reminiscent of her final scenario with Master Anesh against their clone troopers.

“Well, well,” the Inquisitor uttered in a singsong tune. Her eyes examined the boy from head to toe, her mouth finally stretched across her face to reveal a pearly white, fanged grin. “Look what we have here.”

“You’re new,” Cal blurted.

“And you must be Cal Kestis,” the Sixth Sister cooed. “Do me a favor and stand still while we cuff you up. Unless, you wanna do this the hard way.”

She peeked over Cal to find Jidné taking a sideways glance over her own shoulder.

“Well done, Jidné, just like Lord Vader asked—though a little overdue, if I may say so,”

Jidné’s eyebrows furrowed together until her forehead creased. Her heart raced so ceaselessly that her breathing couldn’t possibly keep up. Her brain sent out a string of sentences—almost causing a haywire—that when spoken, it’d be so fast-paced to comprehend, but the only thing that stuck in her head is Vader.

Cal’s mind as well ran endlessly and yet couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the Sixth Sister had just said. His grip around the hilt shook and loosened, eyes wide with bewilderment and confusion as he slowly turns to the girl he thought was an ally.

“Ji-Jidné…? You?”

The Inquisitor read the room and chortled once.

“You never told him?” she then turned to Cal. “She was sent out to get you—because apparently you have something of great importance to Lord Vader.”

Cal heard the Twi’lek but didn’t listen, he kept his eyes on Jidné, desperately searching for the truth to come out of her mouth or see it in her eyes.

“You’re a bounty hunter? And you never told me?”

“I was going to hand you over…” she murmured only within his earshot, the pressure’s taking its toll on her that she doesn’t have the strength to make her voice louder. “Until I decided not to anymore.”

Before Cal could even process what she meant, the Twi’lek signaled the Stormtoopers—one of them produced binders for Cal, another shoved Jidné away for her to watch him be apprehended right in front of her, whilst the rest of them close in around with caution around the Jedi boy. By instinct, Cal fought back—particular the Stormtrooper who held the cuffs and the other who pushed Jidné away.

A single swing of his saber and the Sixth Sister brandished hers in the speed of lightning. The boy could feel the glow pulsing out of the red beam hovering at mere inches away from his only flawless cheek.

“I wouldn’t go for it if I were you, ginger,” the Twi’lek blurted.

Cal lowered his saber and switched it off, prompting the Stormtroopers to continue what they should be doing to him. The trooper confiscated the Jedi’s weapon and took his hands to his back and secured the metal binders around his wrists. Deep inside Jidné, she wanted to whip out her saber and take them all on—she even dared in her mind to face the Sixth Sister—but it would be doubly difficult for herself and Cal, should he ever choose to back her up.

“Take him away,” Sixth Sister aloofly waved her hand, gesturing at the troopers to put Cal into the transport shuttle at the end of the trench.

“No…!” Jidné exclaimed out of the blue.

The Inquisitor immediately reacted to it, “No?”

She made a back-and-forth glance between the cuffed boy and the girl standing there frozen, another sardonic laugh came out of her throat and she felt the need to tilt her head back for emphasis.

“Oooh, dear gods!” she sighed. “Honey, you can’t be serious?”

The two Jedi stood there in silence, eyes shifting between one another and then to the Sixth Sister, this urged her to elaborate. She strode towards Jidné and cupped her jaw, taking the Jedi girl by surprise; she tried to fight it, slightly thrashing her head to shake off the Inquisitor’s grasp but to no avail.

“Don’t tell me, sweetie, you’ve fallen for the boy?”

Upon asking the question, Cal skidded his boots against the soil, halting his pace to anticipate Jidné’s response.

The Inquisitor’s reply was a low growl rumbling within Jidné’s throat—it did very little to intimidate her, it rather amused her, and she took it as a yes. A pink line appeared on the girl’s jaw underneath the older humanoid’s long, polished fingernails. She licked her lips and grinned.

“That’s cute…” she clicked her tongue. “But sad.”

The Sixth Sister shoved Jidné’s face away from her hand, finally letting her go. Her suggestive, coy tone transformed into a firm and demanding one. She turned aroud as she followed behind the Stormtoopers pushing Cal into their vessel.

“Chart a course to Mustafar,” the Twi’lek stopped and turned around to find Jidné standing as still as a rock pillar. “Oh, you’re coming too, Jidné, sweetie. Can’t collect your bounty without getting it from the source, hmm?”

The whole time as they walked through the rest of the canyon pass, Jidné can’t find the strength to look at Cal in the eye and face him as this revelation unfurls at this very moment. Having no other choice, she pressed a button on her right-hand gauntlet which remotely activated and controlled the Scarab—even from afar. A distant rumble thundered, followed by the whirring of an engine’s throttle until the sound got closer and louder.

The Scarab zoomed past above their heads and—using her gauntlet remote—landed right beside the deep gray transport shuttle waiting for them at the end of the path. The exit ramp unfolded as soon as its landing gears touched the drought-plagued soil. She entered the safety of the Scarab, but she wasn’t exactly relieved—not the slightest bit.

“Beee, chirp trill?”

“I know, ID, and it’s all my fault!” she retorted, her anger mixing with her stress heavily affected her speaking tone. She marched to the cockpit and settled herself on the captain’s seat.

From where she sat, she watched the bevy of Stormtroopers herd Cal into the transport while the Twi’lek Inqusiitor was the last board the shuttle—before she did, she gave Jidné a passing glance when she turned in the direction of the Scarab’s windshield. Jidné watched steadily until the entry ramp sealed off the hole where all of the passengers of the transport went through.

“I should’ve told him earlier on,” she snarled, regretting the moment of telling the truth too late. She slapped her forehead. “Fucking idiot!”

Cal was relieved of the handcuffs when he was thrown into the holding area guarded by a pair of Stormtroopers on the other side of the door. During occasional peeks through the small rectangle on the door that served as a window, the soldiers found him surprisingly still and calm, one guessed that he was trying to sleep through the trip.

In truth, Cal has spaced out for he can’t pinpoint the emotions that’s gathered in his very being and all of them revolved around Jidné. He starts with his infatuation for her until, it would be violently interrupted by the loud confusion that birthed from the moment the Sixth Sister opened her mouth and exposed Jidné’s agenda.

“I was going to hand you over… until I decided not to.”

Her words had burned its way into his head. He afforded the luxury of meditating through the rest of the journey. When he closed his eyes, he felt a faint pang of Jidné’s energy mingling with his—as if in an attempt to resonate, but slowly dying down like candlelight on the verge of being extinguished. In the middle of his trance, he could sense a sheer amount of regret, a soul that was once loud with laughter and stories has become languid and dispirited—although, buried within those inhibitions was a tiny spark that seemed to be holding up. He followed that spark, but it kept eluding him; just when he thought his subconscious self has gained on that little speck of light, he was cut short of his meditation when the turbulence from the atmosphere rattled the vessel.

They have arrived.

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.16

Writing this chapter somehow felt good. It took time, but I do like the interactions in it ! ANYWAY, have fun reading <3

Nowadays writing this fic helps me calm my nerves a lot~

Maybe there’s some errors here and there, but I’ll probably fix them over time. For now I feel okay with this -shrugs-

!! WARNING, NSFW (18+) STUFF HAPPENING HERE !!

First Chapter –> HERE Previous Chapter –> HERE Next Chapter –> HERE

Vee understood the reasoning, but she still couldn't help feeling left out. Didn't their friendship mean anything to the reporter? No, of course it did, but Vee knew that being apart could provide them a better cover. Moving away would erase their trail, give them a chance to start fresh. It was heartbreaking, but it was needed, in a sense... Her feet brought her to the lair, first finding the place empty, except for Splinter's presence. As she guessed, the guys were on patrol, giving a chance for the artist to spend some time with the sensei. Cup of tea in hand, both seated in the dining area, Vee could finally breathe in and out peacefully, trying to calm her thoughts. Splinter didn't need to talk, he knew there was nothing that had to be forced out. Frankly, he wanted the woman to talk on her own will, reveal her worries if needed. He first noticed her trembling hands, the cup she was holding shaking ever so lightly and the liquid threatening to spill out on a very few occasions. Then her gaze seemed absent, unfocused, lost in thoughts she kept repeating over and over in her mind. ''I hate that I have such a hard time with my emotions,'' she finally started with a small voice. The rat was all ears now, keeping silent in order to not break her chain of thoughts. ''I can either be scared and sad, or terribly angered, it's like there's no inbetween.... I hate that I'm so weak and never know how to react properly. My anxiety pushes me to extremes I do not want to deal with.'' She set her cup down, her eyes meeting Splinter's. ''… I'm sorry, I'm just blabbering.'' ''No, child, you are not,'' replied the rat calmly. ''In this house I want everyone to speak their mind freely.'' A small smile colored his traits. ''You somehow remind me of Raphael.'' The artist showed surprise. ''Well then, time to get dressing in red,'' she lightly joked. ''… How is it so, if you don't mind me asking?'' The other took a sip of tea, gathering his words: ''He, too, deals in extremes. Raphael's emotions are raw and true, which can be both a strength and a weakness. … His thoughts often go haywire, which will provoke many arguments with his brothers, but it's also in those moments of distress that he learns and grows.'' Splinter placed his cup on the table, his hands joining and his posture serene. ''Time is but a wave that brushes us, shapes us like rocks against a never-ending tide. The process is long, tedious, even painful at times, but from the most rugged surfaces emerges smooth and polished results. … Life is a continuous learning process, its trials here for a reason.'' Vee mindlessly rubbed her left forearm, half of a smile appearing on her lips. ''Sometimes it's hard to remember that,'' she said. ''… It's like I'm never allowed to catch my breath.'' ''Do you tell Donatello of your concerns?'' The woman sighed briefly: ''Sometimes. He knows of my situation with my family, he knows about some of my issues, but there are things I prefer to keep at bay. … He shouldn't have to deal with most of my problems. Those weights are mine alone to bear.'' ''Perhaps,'' replied Splinter. ''But a different point of view might bring some light into most of your struggles. … My son is a gentle and rational soul; he is able to view things from a different angle and bring forth a hidden wisdom. He takes great pride in helping others and widening their horizons.'' The rat stood up, coming to the other's side so he could leave a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ''He is very well aware of his limits and I know he cares deeply about you. Do not be afraid to speak your mind with him. He prefers when others are straight-forward and true about their feelings.'' ''I'll try to keep this in mind,'' answered Vee in a gentle tone. ''Thank you, master Splinter.'' Her smile was still on, but as soon as the mutant was out of view as he walked out the kitchen, Vee's mood shifted back to a neutral expression. She tried to push her thoughts and emotions away, knowing now was not the time to sulk and get drowned in such feelings. With a small sigh, she got up in turn, making her way to Donatello's workspace. Sitting down in his chair, she began to tap on his computer, already on the lookout for a new apartment. Anything to keep her occupied... *** ''Man, robbers are so predictable these days. There's not much fun into catching them anymore,'' echoed Raph's voice as the group was making their way back to the lair. ''Dude, what now? You want them to do some parkour shit while we're chasing them?'' laughed Mikey. ''Nah, I mean, they could rob somethin' more interesting than a convenience store! … How 'bout a strip club?'' ''Now we're talkin'!'' Donnie tsked and rolled his eyes, although with a smile. He would've probably entertained the idea in the past, but for now it sounded so futile, he could only be amused by his brothers' shenanigan comments. As they arrived to their home, the turtles parted ways to each their own. At two 'o clock in the morning, there was still time to do things before heading to bed. The purple clad mutant wasn't much for staying late since he'd been up way earlier than his brothers today, but he knew he had one last thing to check at his computer. He approached his station and frowned when he noticed the screens on, a browser opened and the window scrolling. ''What the-...'' he mumbled. He finally got to his chair, turning it around and then noticing Vee, the woman's eyes big by the sudden move. ''Vee?'' ''Uh, yeah, hi. Sorry, I needed your computer....'' she trailed, timid. Donnie shook his head a little, clearing his thoughts. ''N-no, no, it's okay! I simply didn't know you were here. … Since when? Why didn't you call or text me? … And it's late!'' The woman smiled sheepishly. ''It's been hours. … I got in when you guys just left for patrol – at least that's what Splinter told me.'' Her hands fiddled together. ''And, uh, I just needed to see you...'' He instantly knew something was wrong. He glanced at the screen, noticing advertisments for places to rent. ''… What are you doing?'' he asked, his gaze unmoving. ''I'm doing some research.'' ''About what?'' ''I'm trying to find a new apartment for myself.'' Silence. He finally looked back at Vee. The woman seemed smaller than usual, her eyes avoiding him, everything in fact. The mutant finally crouched down to her level. ''… What? Why?'' ''April is moving in with Casey by the end of this month – in three weeks. They say it'll be better this way; it's for protection.'' ''For protection?'' commented Donnie, visibly irritated. ''What, she and Casey simply decided about that without consulting you? Without consulting anybody?'' ''I dunno, Donnie. I'm as confused as you... I'm scared, in fact.'' He slightly froze at that confession. His hands did move, petting her skin tenderly and cupping her cheek. ''… Don't be, love, I'll help you. We'll do this together, okay?'' Vee's head nodded a little, bringing a smile on Donnie's lips – and to her own by the same occasion. Both moved, soon the mutant rightfully sitting in his chair and the human seated in his lap. He could feel the tension in her body, her shoulders stiff and clenched. She was obviously stressed, Donnie trying his best to ease her mind by continuing his petting, his touch soft and light. ''I've found three places that don't look too dirty or horrible so far,'' she began, taking control of the computer mouse. ''… Why are those closet-like apartments so expensive anyway? It's ridiculous! I could get a bigger one in Montréal for maybe even less.'' ''New York's a mess, but it still has its charms!'' ''Gotta agree on that. … It has you!'' The mutant snickered, hugging the human from behind, nuzzling her hair. They spent the next half-hour looking through several advertisments, keeping some aside for Vee to call on the first occasion. After a while, the artist simply gave up, prefering to lean completely against the turtle, feeling his arms snake around her form. She was pensive, lightly frowning as a sigh escaped her lips. ''This whole situation feels so surreal,'' she confessed. ''What's your plan if you can't find anything in time?'' asked Donatello, his fingers absentmindedly pursuing his petting activity. Vee shrugged: ''I dunno. I'd probably stay at a hotel until I find a place...'' The other seemed to hesitate a moment. ''… What about living here, at the lair?'' Vee's body straightened, slightly turning around to look at the other. She seemed unsure, shy... ''I dunno...,'' she started. ''It wouldn't feel right.'' ''What do you mean?'' ''I wouldn't want to intrude. I wouldn't want to be an added burden to your family.'' Donnie frowned: ''What do you mean by an added burden? That wouldn't be true!'' ''Don-'' ''You don't need to do this all by yourself. You're not back in Montréal, Vee. People here care about you, myself obviously included. I wouldn't let you get in trouble anyway.'' ''Donnie, no, I mean-'' she trailed off, knowing she would regret what she was about to say: ''I'm human, I can't- I just... my life is up there.'' That look. The way she could see sadness invade his eyes as he looked down, suddenly realizing her words. She wanted to punch herself. ''Shit, this came out so wrong,'' she mumbled. ''No, no, please, you're thinking rationally. That's not a bad thing,'' added Donnie, his tone calm. ''I was just thinking for myself here.'' ''I still feel like a jerk for saying that.'' He stopped her by lovingly nuzzling her cheek, leaving soft kisses. ''… Can you at least consider the option?'' he asked. ''If things ever go wrong, I just want you to know that you're always welcomed here.'' ''I will,'' answered Vee, her eyes closed as she lost herself to his touch. ''And I appreciate it, that's for sure.'' A soft sigh left her as she still felt the other kiss her skin. The warmest feeling would always invade her whenever near the mutant and she knew she could never get enough of it. ''… Is it okay if I stay for some days?'' she asked in a small voice. ''I don't want to face April right now... I don't know what to do.'' ''Don't worry, it's absolutely fine,'' reassured Donnie. ''I'm glad you're here, anyway.'' ''Wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now...'' added Vee tenderly, turning her head so she could rightfully meet his lips. She still entertained the idea of living here in the back of her mind, but truthfully she knew she was right. At least … she hoped she was. *** The best sign of warmer days was incessant pours of rain, streams coursing down buildings and streets in a most franctic pace. Donnie hated those days, knowing it wasn't the best for his gear, but he managed anyway as he made his way to Vee and April's apartment the very next night the artist got to the lair. She needed more clothes and things, sending the mutant to fetch those as she didn't want to face the reporter yet. The turtle had hoped that the place would be empty, but a dry sigh left him as he spotted lights inside, towards the kitchen. Getting in, he knew his presence would be quickly noticed, soon hearing footsteps coming his way. ''Oh my god, wait, I'll go fetch towels,'' first said April, already on the lookout for something to dry the other. … Gosh he didn't want to talk to her. As the brunette was back, he muttered a 'thanks', already on the task to remove the water on his scales and clothes. A small silence settled in, feeling the woman's gaze on him, but he didn't look back. ''… Where's Vee?'' ''At the lair,'' simply answered Donnie. ''She'll be staying for some days.'' ''And why is she not with you here? What are you doing alone?'' The mutant stopped, neatly folding the towel and next leaving it on a coffee table nearby. When he finally looked back at April, his expression was neutral, yet frowning a little. ''You must certainly have a clue why, April,'' he started. ''… I'm here right now because Vee needs more stuff. 'Cause, you know, I'm helping her to find a new place to live in ridiculous delays. It would have been nicer to have an earlier heads up, but, hey, life's a bitch ain't it?'' April frowned. ''… Look, this is all unexpected-'' ''I don't give a shit,'' cut Donnie, losing the little thread of patience he had held. ''Don't you realize you're putting Vee in trouble? For you it's fine 'cause you already have another place, but for her it's hell. Finding a reasonnable apartment in New York in such brief delays takes luck!'' ''She'll find something!'' ''And what if she doesn't?'' The woman was silent now, her eyes avoiding him. The turtle simply huffed: ''That's right, you don't have any answer 'cause you don't give a damn.'' ''That's not true!'' ''If that was the case, you'd be searching with her. You wouldn't be here all alone.'' ''Donnie, I-'' He stopped her, lifting a hand. ''Look,'' he started. ''I'm not here to pick a fight. Do what you want, I don't care.'' He got on the move, going to Vee's room. But April was not finished. She followed, stopping at the doorframe. ''Can't you understand that I'm also torn about this?'' she started, upset and yet angered a little. ''Vee is my friend and now this is happening. … I don't want to lose her, but I'm doing this with best intentions.'' ''For 'protection', as I was told,'' replied the mutant, still packing things. ''Yes. I-'' She stopped, visibly upholding something. That did pique Donnie's curiosity, finally turning to her and gesturing her to continue. ''Go on, say what's on your mind.'' The brunette folded her arms, her expression faltering as she tried to retain some tears. ''… Casey and I are trying to start a family,'' she muttered. ''He wants me out of danger. He wants me safe...'' Donatello felt his tension fade away, suddenly feeling dumb for not having listened in the first place. ''I know this is all sudden,'' she continued. ''And I told Casey to wait and make things easier. … But that last incident Vee got into, it's like it snapped something in him. … He likes her, but right now he sees her as a trouble magnet and he just wants to get me away from here as fast as he can.'' The turtle's mind was running wild, processing all that information. He sat on Vee's bed, thoughtful. April decided to finally come in, sitting down beside him. ''I don't want all this drama. I don't want Vee to drift away from our friendship,'' she added. ''She's an incredible person and probably the best roommate I ever got,'' she faintly laughed, but it was soon back to contemplation. ''I-, uhm, I'm sorry. I probably sounded so harsh and mean earlier,'' blabbered Donnie. ''Have I known the details better...'' He stopped when he felt the woman's hand on his, stopping his train of thoughts. ''Don't you worry about it. … You're angry, I get it. Vee is sad and hurt and I totally understand that you're feeling this way. … I know how much you love her.'' Removing his glasses, Donnie next pinched lightly inbetween his eyes, trying to smile, but small tears escaping him. ''Dammit,'' he murmured. ''Second time this week....'' He never liked crying. He felt so stupid when doing so... ''What's wrong?'' gently asked April. ''… We're family, Don, you can tell me anything.'' Another attempt of a smile flashed on the mutant's lips, his eyes meeting April's. ''I love her so much, I really do...,'' he started. ''I can't even begin to explain how much good she has brought into my life.'' He tried to dry his tears. ''I love her so much, sometimes it hurts. I just can't see myself without her nowadays. It's like she was that missing part of myself I've been searching for so long... And now that she's here, I can't let her go.'' Gosh, he felt ridiculous.... ''She accepts me for who I am and never questionned if our relationship would work or not because of our... differences. She knows, just as I, that we were meant to meet and experience all of this, together.... I don't believe in fate, but I may as well start as of right now!'' He held the woman's hand in his, seeking small comfort. ''Casey tried to question Vee and I's relationship. I know he wishes for me to stay away from her, but I just can't. I'd never be able to!'' ''Don't you ever let him, or anyone, make a decision for you,'' cut April. ''You deserve all of this, as much as anyone else.'' ''Sometimes it's hard to believe it, but I try my best,'' he smiled lightly. He placed his glasses to their rightful place, trying to shake his weakness away. ''I'd do anything for Vee and all I wish is for her to be safe. … I blame myself so much for what happened recently and I'll dare say I'm a bit surprised that she's still by my side, even with all this bullshit going on,'' he scoffed. ''She is very well aware of the risks,'' started April. ''And that doesn't dissuade her from loving you. … I think, in fact, it reinforces the feelings she has for you. … She admires you, Donnie. You're an inspiration for her and she truly wants to be a part of your life – as long as you let her be so.'' ''And I feel so lucky for that,'' he added. ''I do want her to be in my life...'' He sighed, looking around the room. Everything Vee had to offer; her smile, her laugh, her curiosity, her intellect, her love...  She was fascinating in every aspects. His gaze back on April, he tried to redeem himself with half of a smile, yet sincere. ''I'll talk to her and explain your situation, if that can help and ease the tension.'' ''You can try, but I want to be able to explain myself to her – face to face. Casey and I probably broke her heart.... And I can't stop thinking about it, in all honesty.'' ''Maybe you could also think about ways to help her?'' offered the mutant. ''Right now, I'm sure Vee will gladly accept any help she can get. … And if some of it comes from you, I'm sure it would mean a lot.'' ''For sure,'' answered the woman with a soft smile. ''I'll think of something. I won't let her down.'' Following that consensus, she next helped Donnie pack things for the artist. The mood was definitely lighter, April showing a smirk as she pondered back to everything that previously unfolded. ''You know... you're kinda scary and intimidating when angry,'' she said, amused. ''Didn't expect that from you.'' The terrapin huffed a small chuckle, taking the clothes April was handing to him and putting them in the bag. ''I am 'the calm before the storm', as Mikey likes to say. … My brothers know that I'm chill most of the time, but if my buttons are pressed right I can easily explode. And, I dunno, … since I'm with Vee I have this feeling of 'I must protect' that simply started to amplify. It's somehow difficult to explain.'' ''It's difficult to explain since it's your first relationship, but believe me; this is not an uncommon feeling. Men, as well as women, share this mutual sentiment when they're with someone. You'd do anything for them and they would do the same in return.'' ''Which is somehow fascinating. … I never thought I would feel this way or that anyone would in return.'' ''Then you found the right person,'' winked April. On that he had no doubt! *** As Donatello was away, Vee took that opportunity to get some work done on a music piece she had recently started to compose. Seated at the piano near the terrapin's workstation, she carefully pushed some keys, humming in harmony, and stopping by moments to write notes on a blank partition. It was a soothing tune, reminiscent of calm periods, memories of days spent in silence and contemplation. The smell of her coffee nearby helped for inspiration, the distant echo of rain outside bringing the woman back to such a peaceful scene. Replaying what she had wrote so far, she only noticed a presence nearby as she took a pause and reached for her mug. Raph was watching, his stance relaxed, arms crossed and his body slightly leaning against a metal beam. Vee felt like shrinking, not used to be looked upon when working. ''… Am I playing too loud?'' she asked, shy. ''Oh, no!'' reassured the mutant. ''Sorry, I was just listenin'. … What you're playin' sounds nice.'' A soft smile crossed the woman's lips: ''Thanks! It's still in the works, though.'' Raph lightly frowned, getting in motion towards the artist. ''Wait, what? You composed that?'' ''Sure thing! I studied in that field at some point back in College. Better make some use of that knowledge.'' ''Alright, smarty-pants, next time I'll just assume you learned how to do everything, just like Donnie,'' joked the other. That did get a hushed laugh out of Vee, knowing too well she could never truly compare to her boyfriend. Her expression shifted after a quick thought, soon changing the subject as Raph was still near. ''Hey … are you busy?'' she asked. ''Depends for what,'' smirked the turtle. Vee's position shifted on her bench, now her back facing the piano. ''Is it okay if we chat for a bit? Please, have a seat,'' she offered, gesturing a chair so he could bring it near. The red clad mutant seemed unsure at first, but soon shrugged it off as he brought the furniture next to the woman, sitting down and crossing his arms once more. ''Sure. What's on your mind, nerd?'' Vee's mind was suddenly blank, somehow feeling ridiculous for what she was about to bring up: ''… Last night I was kinda in a bad place. I was angry, I couldn't think straight. And once I got here, I was on the verge of a panic attack. … I know you probably don't give a damn-'' ''Why wouldn't I give a damn?'' he cut, calm. The artist was silent, her eyes meeting his. He didn't look annoyed nor angry; he was curious and ready to listen. ''I dunno, I guess that's my anxiety talking here,'' she answered. ''I don't usually talk about that bullshit to others – Donnie being the exception so far.'' ''Yeah he told us about your anxiety.'' He noticed Vee's small frown. ''Don't worry, it was all in good faith,'' quickly corrected Raph. ''He just wanted to inform us about it. … But yeah, what about last night?'' Vee took a sip of coffee, collecting her thoughts. A soft smile was back on her lips, remembering Splinter's words. ''… It seems like we share something, you and I,'' she started. ''Master Splinter told me I reminded him of you, as I also deal with my emotions in absolutes. And … I guess what I wanted to ask is; do you have any tricks or tips about how to deal with such feelings?'' A stifled laugh left the mutant, but never was it in a mocking tone. He shifted his position, his arms no longer crossed as he was now more open to the conversation. ''I'm not sure I'm the best to share any wisdom,'' he started. ''Why not go ask Leo or wait for Donnie to come back?'' ''Because I'm asking you, Raphael. I want your opinion.'' That simple answer shut him up, both now seizing each their emotions and intentions. The turtle sighed after a moment, somehow surprised to be asked about his input. ''… Well, first of all, you gotta learn to accept that those feelings are a part of you. I know they suck and we'd be better off without them, but you've got to honor them.'' He joined hands, somehow feeling uneasy, but still talking: ''You feel them for a reason, and the sooner you accept those, the better it becomes. … Uhm, if you need to punch something, do it! I know it helps me. … There's a punching bag in the dojo.'' That brought a smile on Vee's features, still listening patiently. ''You have the right to be mad at people, but that feeling should never stay with you. … At some point it'll just start to rot and, well, that ain't good. … You can scream, you can cry, you can do anything, as long as you get it out your system. That's why I blow out sometimes. But I've been learning to manage those moments, setting boundaries for others to respect and for me to retreat and let the steam away.'' His eyes were soft, his smile friendly. ''… What I'm tryin' to say, though, is that you shouldn't be scared to show your true colors. At least, not with Donnie, and even with me. … This family can handle anythin'!'' ''I have no doubts about that,'' sweetly commented Vee. ''…. Thanks, Raph.'' ''Heh, t'wasn't much, though.'' ''Still, what you said made sense and it was nice to hear.'' It was somehow surprising to witness this side of the terrapin. On the first meeting, he had seemed as unaproachable, stern, and a man of very few words; while in fact he could be truly articulate and wise, thanks to experiences. Maybe it took him time to truly open up to Vee, and the woman was glad he was finally starting to. ''Never thought you'd be the kind of person to blow up,'' added Raph, playful. ''I thought you were just some kind of shy bean like my tree of a brother.'' That brought up a laughter from the artist, her smile never fading away. ''I tend to bottle my emotions a lot and at some point it just snaps. It's mostly tears most of the time. It ain't pretty.'' ''It never has to be pretty,'' commented the terrapin. ''But if that's what it takes to cool you down, so be it. And if one day Donnie cannot accept that, you tell me and I'mma beat his ass up. I'm dead serious.'' ''Deal,'' chuckled Vee. ''Although I'm sure it'll never get to that.'' *** The day had seemed to last forever. From work being hectic to calling landlords in order to plan visits to certain apartments, Vee thought her mind would explode at some point. No matter how many coffees she drank, it seemed like her energy was being sapped away, her headache everlasting. She only started to breathe once she made her way back to the Lair, feeling like she could finally put everything behind her and get to relax. … Or so she thought! How was she dragged into bo staff training with Donnie? At this point she just shrugged it off, simply glad to spend time with him. Both were dressed for a workout; Vee in black leggings and a sport bra, Donnie wearing dark grey sweatpants. He looked at ease, effortlessly warming up by doing simple rowing and figures with his staff as Vee was stretching. That show off, thought the woman, both showing a smirk as their gazes crossed. Up on her feet, the first thing she felt was the tip of Donatello's staff lightly tapping and poking her thighs and sides, his grin forever present as he started to talk. ''Today you're gonna learn how to not hit yourself.'' He brought Vee closer to him with the help of his bo, keeping her a prisonner. ''The staff is an extension of your arms and a tool that gains much power, all thanks to velocity. You have to be aware of where both its extremities are at all times.'' ''Hmm, so far I like this lesson,'' commented Vee, gently tapping his plastron. ''Focus and you shall be rewarded greatly!'' ''Ho, ho! Yes, sir!'' They were both playful and smiling, the lesson finally starting. The main trick was to repeat movements and be at ease with them. Vee's main weakness was her coordination, which she always thought was funny considering how most of her activities – such as playing music – required such skill. Having Donnie to comment on her technique and help her understand each strikes was definitely a great way for her to learn. He would often stand behind her, holding her hands in his and guiding her. As much as he wanted to stay serious and be a proper teacher, he couldn't help leaving some kisses here and there, mostly as rewards. ''Do you think one day I'd be able to kick your butt?'' asked Vee at some point, amused and comically tapping her staff's ends against his biceps as she was standing before him. Donnie pondered for a moment, only to soon frown with a smile, grabbing her stick in turn and easily lifting the woman up to him with a playful growl. Vee let out a surprised sound, feeling his hold swiftly shift to hold her around her hips and butt, keeping her against him. ''I highly doubt so,'' he answered with a laugh. ''You're free to try, though.'' Vee dropped her staff, frowning in turn. She did not hesitate to start poking his sides, getting a yelp from the terrapin. That made him backtrack until his shell stopped him against a wall, laughing and pleading for the human to stop her poking and tickling. He slid down to sit on the floor, things finally starting to slow down. ''See? I won,'' pointed Vee, feeling victorious. Their eyes met and things suddenly shifted. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, the general good feeling of it all? Donnie's hands were petting Vee's back and skin, keeping her so close and their lips brushing. ''I admit... you leave me weak everytime I see you,'' murmured the turtle. The artist's touch trailed on his pebbled skin, from the sides of his neck to his shoulders. She couldn't describe it, yet she felt that magnetism. That feeling that pulled her to him, like a spell. Their lips finally met, eager to feel one another. A flame was lit, their breathings harsh and their touch persistent on one another. Her hips moved on their own, starting a slow grind as she kept kissing. Donnie did not stop her; in fact he kept her movement going by keeping his hands on her waist. The world was spinning, making them feel dizzy with love. Vee was only able to take back her breath for a moment, keeping close as she mumbled: ''What if someone walks in?'' Oh she could already feel his erection, the mutant's churr so deep and low. ''I don't give a fuck,'' he answered, going back into another kiss. Pleasure and desire were already there, Vee's skin getting over-sensitive and letting some moans escape her. Her arms were now hooked around his neck, her body a wave as she kept brushing it against her lover. She felt one of Donnie's hands eagerly tugging at her leggings, soon getting one of her legs out of it. Vee, in turn, only needed to pull down his sweatpants enough to let his sex out, grinding against it with a growing lust. Passion was way high and only the present moment mattered. Everything else was insignificant, the craving of sex increasing with each seconds. I need you right now. Time seemed like a blur, both joining soon enough. Their tempo was already at a langourous pace, breaths harsh and translating their need. ''Ffffffuuuck,'' mewled Vee. She could feel him entirely, rubbing every right parts of her in such a delicious way. His lips trailed her skin, his hands holding onto her as if afraid that she would disappear. They both couldn't lie: the possibility to get caught in the act brought such an immense thrill. It blasted their lust through the roof, eager to meet their end. ''Don't stop, baby, keep going,'' encouraged the mutant breathlessly, his tone only for her to hear. He was answered with a kiss, Vee's pace keeping up and her body trembling from sheer excitement. Her moans were lost against him, her thoughts spinning as she knew her pursuit to ecstasy was coming sooner than expected. Maybe it was because of the spontaneity of it all... A first orgasm rushed through her in a powerful wave, somehow surprised by how short it took her to obtain it. She could feel Donnie's smile against her cheek, his churr rumbling so strongly in his chest and bringing renewed shivers to Vee. Please. Again. ''Cum with me,'' pleaded the artist, nuzzling the other's face, her lips grazing his'. She felt the terrapin's hands get a hold of her hips, guiding her movements. All he could think about was her; her scent, her voice, the feel of her skin and her sex. He never felt that much complete before, like an intricate puzzle that had finally found its missing piece... The way she whispered his name in need, some sweet ''I love you'' escaping her like a melody, oh he did not mean to moan that much in turn, but he couldn't help it! He needed to kiss her just as much as he needed to breathe It was vital, primordial, his eternal need. Vee's whimpers and mewls told him she was close once more, the mutant abandoning himself into this feeling. The next thing he knew was that he was feeling the same bliss as her, nuzzling her and trailing kisses as he cummed. Both were on a cloud, panting as their hands kept caressing one another. Their pace slowed down little by little, the friction ever still so good. The turtle's churr could only express his love, kissing again and again at Vee's neck; enough to leave a mark. Things finally came back down to earth, their eyes meeting. And that's when they softly laughed, still joined, ever feeling so good. ''Did that just happen for real?'' asked Vee, smiling and blushing. ''Judging by how we're still sitting here, linked to one another, I'd say it was indeed very real!'' answered Donatello, snickering. The woman hid her face against the other's neck, grumbling from both amusement and shyness. ''Is the lesson over?'' she added. ''My legs are kinda dead right now...'' She felt the mutant kiss the top of her head, his arms surrounding her into a warm embrace. ''Sure thing, love. In fact, this calls for a bath time. It'll help relax your muscles.'' ''Only if you come take it with me.'' ''Always,'' he cooed. *** As the water stopped running, a long and confortable sigh left the woman as she laid her front side against Donatello's chest, both instantly getting into an embrace, Vee nuzzling her lover's neck and jaw. They could hear faint music coming from the main room of the lair, probably Mikey blasting it somewhere. Deep basses that rumbled in the air, suave hip-hop beats that settled a mood; a New York state of mind. God, she felt so good. She wanted to stay like this forever. Feel this love and have no worries in mind. Her smile was soft, slowly trailing kisses here and there, appreciating the sensation of his scales against her lips. ''I'll be visiting two apartments this weekend,'' she started in a sweet tone. ''They don't seem too bad. I can't wait to see them.'' Their eyes met, the artist still speaking: ''And you know what? I kept thinking about it and now I know why it'll be good that I get my own place.'' ''Do tell,'' added Donnie. ''It will be our place. … Something for the both of us. Something for when you need to get away from the others and just relax. I could even have a corner just for you! Have a desk with things you can work on, I dunno!'' The mutant chuckled, finding the idea adorable and yet very alluring. ''That does sound nice,'' he answered, his fingers tenderly tracing the woman's back. ''Will you be visiting them alone?'' ''I guess so...'' ''Maybe April could check them out with you.'' Vee frowned lightly, remaining silent as she laid her head down against one side of his neck. She mumbled a faint ''I dunno'', a sharp sigh leaving her. She could still feel Donnie's hands against her skin, keeping up his petting and remaining calm. ''… I spoke with her when I went to grab your things. She really feels bad for everything that's happening.'' ''Yeah, sure,'' interjected the artist dryly. ''And she wants to make it up to you,'' continued the other, not skipping a beat after her comment. ''… She wants to explain herself and patch things up. She cares for you, Vee.'' ''Did she tell you why she's moving with Casey?'' ''Yes.'' The artist's head was back up, staring straight at the male. ''So? Why?'' The turtle looked somewhat uneasy, meditating his answer. ''… I don't think it's up to me to explain why. She wants to discuss it with you-'' ''Fuck that,'' cut Vee, iritated. ''Keeping that reason away from me right now will only make me want to not see her even more.'' She couldn't hide her slight pain. ''I'm tired of drama and people keeping secrets. I just want to know so I can stop worrying and coming up with thousands of scenarios in my head. … Can't you at least understand that?'' Facing the other's contemplative silence, the woman got in motion with a sharp sigh, about to exit the bathtub, but Donnie's hand got a gentle hold of her arm, murmuring a ''come here'' as he brought her back to him. Petting her skin again, he left some kisses against her head, feeling sorry. ''Yes I do understand,'' he started. ''I just wanted to respect April's wishes too.... But you're right, I shouldn't let you worry like that.'' ''And I don't even need the full details,'' commented Vee. ''Just the big lines, I don't care. …. But I deserve the right to know.'' The terrapin's sigh was heavy, but his voice calm. ''April and Casey want to start a family. And in light of the recent events, Casey wants April out of any harm – hence why he's urging her to move in with him.'' ''Why didn't she say anything? … For how long were they planning this 'starting a family' thing?'' ''For that I have no answer. You'll need to seek that out with her.'' ''I guess so...,'' mumbled Vee. ''… She calls me a friend, yet she does not confide things like that to me.'' ''Hey, everyone's trying their best, alright? … Don't get started on scenarios and jump to conclusions. You still have to hear her out.'' The woman still mumbled some words under her breath, face hidden against the other's skin. She knew he was right and, frankly, she was glad that he was trying to bring some sense into her. Getting anxious would bring her no good... ''Alright,'' she finally spoke up, moving her head so she could make eye contact with the mutant. ''I'll call her tomorrow and see if she wants to come with me.'' ''Attagirl,'' added Donnie with a soft smile, his fingers trailing along her spine to the nape of her neck. ''You'll see, things will settle. Arguments may occur, but there's always a way to fix things up.'' ''Depends on the situation, but I guess you're right.'' ''I'm always right,'' joked the male. Vee playfully splashed some water towards him, giggling. ''Don't push it!''

[adobe-outdesign]

DCTL Liveblog: Chapters 16-20

Sometimes this feels like I’m reading really good fanfiction.

Spoilers under the cut:

Chapter 16

I like how they’re just casually sitting here right after watching someone die and while there’s a demon on the loose. shouldn’t you guys, like, leave first

confirmation that Henry created Alice, even though she wasn’t used until after he left (which is kind of what I figured, but I’ve seen people say it was Joey)

Henry is Norman Approved(TM)

Norman calling Susie a “cute kid” is adorable honestly. I always liked the idea of them having a friendship

the whole “evil thing doesn’t like light” thing bothers me. like one it’s the most generic monster trope in the book, and two, since when the fuck was that a thing? Bendy fucking fistfought the Projectionist, I think he’s okay with a little light.

Actually the Ink Demon in general seems off in this - he doesn’t show any of the mischievous nature he has in the game (yet, anyway) and he does a bunch of weird shit like crawl on the ceiling or make wailing noises. feels like I’m reading about an xenomorph or something than Bendy.

the whole “ink goes through but doesn’t come out” doesn’t seem to make sense either? The blueprints indicate the Ink Machine produces the ink, which is how it was presented to the employees.

The thing about Sammy not acting like himself is interesting. It’s possible he’s so widly OOC is because the ink’s driving him crazy... but unfortunately that still doesn't’ really explain away the bigot shit. Plus it’s hard to tell if that was the author’s intent or not, maybe the next book will make it clearer.

I don’t really get why Buddy’s freaking out. Yeah, the ink’s at his house, and...? it’s not like anyone else is fucking around with the stuff, just wait until it’s safe and then bring it back to the studio.

Chapter 17

oh okay, he was worried about it infecting someone at his house, that makes more sense

Not sure how I feel about the ink being alive and stuff? I actually had a fic that explored that and bunch of other ideas that I didn’t write down because it was non-canon wherein it was something similar, but I was presented in more of an eldritch way. The ink just moving around on its own feels too venom-y for my taste, and is kind of weird considering it never was indicated in the game.

For those worried about the holocaust stuff: it’s just character backstory for Buddy’s grandpa and it’s treated very respectfully.

dumping the ink into a river seems like literally the worst way to get rid of it, but whatever

Chapter 18

"did you paint this?” uh...duh? your mom just told you he sent over his paintings, were you not listening?

Chapter 19

“I don’t have to sit there and watch people die” yeah, you can dick around and get lots of other people killed instead! Dot I like you but this is just a dumbass move

“I remembered the violinist, then tried to forgot her” it’s okay, everyone else already has seeing as she was such a background character she didn’t even get a name

okay screw everything else I just wrote Bertrum flat-out hugging Joey is by far the most surreal part of this book

you see, that was Henry’s problem, he though Bertie was trying to kill him when he was actually just trying to hug him with his carts. an easy mistake

I don’t think this is actually OOC though - they’ve just met recently (possibly only once before now), so Joey hasn’t had enough time to step on his ego and piss him off. we’re escentially seeing the rare non-butthurt Bertie

though to be fair, it is weird that Joey just calls him that and he doesn’t even bother correcting him

also, him brushing off Joey’s compliment with an “I don’t know about that” doesn’t seem quite right for an egotist, unless he’s just pretending to be humble for the sake of appearances

also I’ve been headcanoning him as big both in height and weight since the beginning, I’m glad he’s now canonly confirmed Beefy(TM) (their words not mine)

“Janie and the Bandits” good to see Showdown’s still getting work after being cancelled

Joey calling him a friend is also really funny because I’m pretty sure he still considers him that even after Bertie starts getting pissed at him

oh I see, the theatre was for expansion purposes

“Joey I heard you have booze here and I want it”

Chapter 20

it’s weird that Tom was fired. didn’t he quit of his own accord according to his first tape?

“Allison your fired” “I say I’m not fired” “damn it”

Thomas confirmed Swole

Tom being pissed all the time is... unfortunate, even if makes sense given what’s going on. It’s not a problem in general but when you make a character black you really gotta watch out for implications like that.

Allison knows that people died (esp. Susie), which is... interesting. It feels like it ties into her “I’m no angel” thing and not wearing her halo, though it also feels like it defeats the point of her being the “good” Alice a bit

I really like the little bits and pieces showing how the cartoon’s and ink creature’s minds work, seeing as the game doesn’t explore it at all

I wish they’d stop doing the “and I was face to face with Bendy” thing - it never is him and in this case it’s really obvious it’s Sammy.

TL;DR: Not sure if I like the direction the stuff with the ink is going, but otherwise it’s still pretty decent. Have to see how the final chapters play out tomorrow.

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP - 41: Don’t Let Me Go

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40; Interlude 5

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Yay, we're back again! Thank you all for your patience.

This chapter... I'm going to say a little more at the end, but just this: It didn't turn out as I imagined it since last summer. But due to reasons, I had to change things, leave things out, or right out ignore entire points, so, yeah... I just hope it's still good enough.

As for the title... This too changed many times over the past year. I was never in a situation where I wouldn't have a title, it was more like I have too many that would fit. Up until last week, I was sure it would be  Your Arms Are My Castle from Cascada's Every Time We Touch. But, well, things changes. A lot! So now it's from Don't Let Me Go - Acoustic by RAIGN. With the theme I Only Want You from the Castle TV-show as the underlying soundtrack... probably...

. o O o .

Hiccup reacted without even a heartbeat's hesitation. Without a doubt, that scream had come from Markor, and there were few reasons why he would scream like that. And none of them meant anything good.

Before anything else around registered in his mind, Hiccup rode Cassie to the side. A nudge of his heels and she was galloping freely past the general chaos of frightened horses and confused men, and towards the direction of the scream. He was so focused on getting there as quickly as he could that it took him a moment to notice Eret riding directly in front of him, and then to remember that him rushing to the Princess's aid like this might draw unwanted attention. But right now, none of that mattered, not when Astrid was in possible danger – and with Eret around, he even had a valid excuse anyway.

The sounds were coming from a small copse of aspen trees, and Hiccup directed Cassie to it.  As they approached, he spotted Astrid quickly, her colourful dress standing out starkly against the muted browns and greens of the forest, even though she was covered in dirt, grass, leaves, and twigs. Thankfully no reds, though. She wasn’t moving as if injured, just impeded by her dress, as she crawled over the ground in a hurry towards– 

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes followed her path and instantly took in what had happened. Markor was lying on the ground as well, and as Hiccup watched, was trying to get back on his feet, even as more cries of pain came from him. But Hiccup didn’t even need to take a closer look to know that, with an injured leg like that, the gelding would never stand again...

The realisation made new pain shoot into his heart, and not just for Astrid's sake but also for his own. Behind his mind’s eye, the months Hiccup had spent with the horse rushed past him in a heartbeat; how he’d first met the late yearling upon his arriving at the stud farm, how they’d built a bond of trust and friendship that had only grown stronger when Hiccup had trained him to be gifted to the Princess, and that first meeting in the stables months ago where rubbing down the gelding together had brought him and Astrid closer. All that were happy memories, memories Hiccup treasured – and now, there was no way to save Markor...

"Swanja, don't," cut Eret's voice into his mind. He'd dismounted Crusher and was already at her side, holding her back from the reeling horse. "Don't get any closer, he might hurt you."

"B-but I have t-to help him," she sobbed. "Please, I... let me..." She was fighting against Eret's arms around her, trying to get past him, but he wouldn't let her.

"We can't help him anymore," he implored. "Not with an injury like that. You know that, Swanja. All we can do now is end his suffering. Please, let me–"

"No! No, please no! You can't do that, please!" she wailed. However, she stopped fighting Eret, and as Hiccup dismounted, she turned and clutched at Eret’s tunic, her knuckles standing out white against the dark red fabric, and as he wrapped his arms around her, she sagged into his embrace and started to weep.

Hiccup just stood next to Cassie, watching it all with a sense of painful hollowness in his chest. He wanted to push his cousin away, to be the one to comfort her. He wanted her pain to go away, to distract her or offer her something to make it easier. But none of that was possible. It wasn't his place to hold her in his arms, not anymore, and there was no way to lessen her pain. His eyes flickered back toward the injured horse, and the lump in his throat grew even bigger. He knew what they had to do, and the sooner the better. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Hiccup glanced back at Eret just as his cousin cleared his throat and gave him an indicative nod. He knew that Eret would have done it himself, having spent his entire life around horses. But with Astrid still holding on to him as if he was all that kept her together he couldn't move, and they both knew that Hiccup knew what to do well enough, too.

With a curt nod, he took a dagger from his riding pack, hid it in his boot, and approached Markor, humming and with his hands raised to calm him at least a little bit. "Shh, it's okay, boy. It's okay. Calm down." The words came automatically and without him even thinking about them. He couldn't think right now anyway, could only function. He had a task to do. With the soothing noises and the familiar hands on his head, Markor soon calmed down until he lay still with only the occasional low whinny. For a minute, Hiccup kept stroking his fur and talked in a low voice, further calming the large horse while his left hand reached for the hidden dagger. It was done quickly, just one well-placed movement, and only a few heartbeats later, Markor lay entirely still.

Behind him, he could hear Astrid cry out again and Eret's low whispering, but in that moment, neither of that truly reached him. Instead, the words from his dream suddenly echoed through his mind again.

“You can hold your beloved in your arms again. But first, you will end the life of someone dear to her.”

Hiccup's breath caught in his throat as he stared down into Markor's lifeless eye, at his own hands covered in blood. Could this be it? Was this what the Goddess had meant? But how? 

Slowly, he shook his head. He'd thought he'd have to kill someone who was in their way. He’d struggled for hours whether he could do that, whether he could become a murderer just to be with her again, and whether he'd even still be worthy of her if he did. His mind had conjured up one scenario after the other in which him killing someone who was about to stop them might be acceptable, self-defence, but they all had felt hollow and surreal. 

But now that he thought about it... that hadn't been what the Goddess had said. She hadn't said that he'd ‘have to kill someone to be with her’. No, she'd only said that ‘he would end a life before he could hold her again’.

A low sob escaped him and he slumped down until his head rested against Markor's. "I'm so sorry," he gasped into the still-warm fur. "You didn't deserve this." But none of this was about what anyone deserved, the slightly more practical part of him realised. Markor's death hadn't been a condition for their happiness, just something that would happen before they could hope again.

But still, he found himself wishing it had been something else. It wasn't that he wanted Eret or Daniel or anyone else to die – but he hadn't wanted Markor to die either, and even though he understood that it made no logical sense to blame himself, he felt guilty nonetheless. Foresight was a painful gift indeed...

Hiccup had no idea how long he'd knelt there next to Markor's still body. He wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around him beyond the assurance that Eret would care for Astrid, so he flinched when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, you better get up," Dagur muttered in a gloomy voice. When Hiccup looked up, a hint of confusion in his empty eyes, he added, "We're all heading back. And Uncle Osmond decided that Swanja is to ride with you."

From one breath to the next, Hiccup's heartbeat accelerated from barely there to a stampede. "What?" he gasped, his eyes unerringly darting to where she was still hiding from everyone against Eret's chest.

"Don't ask me," Dagur replied with a shrug. "She was about to ride with Eret, but there was something about not giving advantages, and... I don't know, but this is what the King decided."

With his mind reeling, Hiccup struggled to stand back up onto his legs, and stumbled as his left cramped. Only Dagur's quick reaction kept him from falling again.

"Careful there. And... can I give you a bit of free advice?" He waited, and when Hiccup didn't object seemed to take that as agreement. "First, you should be careful. I know that she wouldn't mind the touch of a friend, but they’re all looking for something to discredit Eret with. You better make sure not to touch her more than absolutely necessary, or this all might turn into an even bigger mess. And second... well... you might want to clean up before you go over there."

Dagur gestured down at his hands, and when Hiccup’s followed the gesture, he found them still covered in red. Mechanically, he nodded.  "Yes… Yes, I'll..."

"There's a stream over there," Dagur pointed helpfully. "But you better hurry, we're all just waiting for you."

Hiccup nodded again, then staggered in the direction Dagur had indicated, quickly finding the stream. The water was cold, but it felt good after the heat of Markor’s blood, and he cleaned his hands as best he could, not wanting to upset Astrid further by letting her see any traces. That done, he headed to where the others were waiting for him. Upon Eret's sign, he mounted Cassie then made room for Eret to lift Astrid up until she sat in front of him. And only then did the full weight of what was happening truly hit him.

She was going to ride with him? The whole way back to the castle, the entire two hours? And he wasn't to interact with her in any way, let alone touch her? How was he supposed to do that, when all his heart, mind, body, and soul longed for was to hold her close and never let go of her again? 

With his entire body trembling, he led Cassie until they rode in the centre of the group of guards assigned to them. The stern looks the men gave them only reinforced Dagur’s warning – they wouldn’t treat any breach of decorum lightly, not in Astrid’s currently brittle state. So he was careful to keep his arms in an awkward half-bent and raised manner, holding Cassie’s reigns without touching Astrid – even as the mayweed scent wafting from her hair made him dizzy and he had to fight the urge and longing to hold her tight at every single second. Again and again, he kept reminding himself that this wasn’t the right place to do so, not with so many people watching them... 

–and not without knowing how she feels about me, he realised with a start. It was two weeks now since they’d last talked of some sort, one week since she’d at least moved on a little and had turned to Eret for comfort. For Hiccup, last night had been a turning point, the realisation that he couldn’t simply give up on them and the revelation that there still was hope… But that didn’t mean that she felt the same. 

“You can hold your beloved in your arms again.”

Holding her in his arms… Wasn’t that what he was doing right now, in a way at least? Was this all the Goddess had referred to? Had Markor died just for him to spend this last ride with her?

A shiver ran down his spine and he choked back a sob as a spark of desperation rose inside him. Was it possible that he’d deceived himself like this, that this ride was all they would ever get? But no, that couldn’t be. That hadn’t been all the Goddess had said. She’d also said that there was always hope, that he only had to do what came naturally to him, and that he would hold his prize in his arms if he did the Gods’ work – whatever that would be.

He would have to hold onto that thought, or he would lose his mind. 

However, the question about how she thought about him was burning at the front of his mind, especially as her face was nothing but a stony mask with rivulets of silent tears running down her cheeks. He wished he could ask her or even comfort her in any way... but that wasn’t possible. Not now, not when they were surrounded by so many people, with so many eyes watching them intently for any slip-ups. 

And thus went the ride; Hiccup felt every moment as they blurred together like grains of sharp glass under his bare feet, each one distinct and painful, yet identical to the others, as they stretched on and on... He didn’t even try to distract himself from the thought of how the only thing separating them was their clothes and a finger width's space between them, knowing that that would be futile anyway. With every step Cassie made, they swayed and shook, just a little but it was enough for her shoulders to brush against his arms or for her hair to tickle at his neck every now and then. It was wonderful and agonising at the same time, being so close to her and yet unable to do or say anything. All he could do to ward off the rising desperation in his heart was to focus on his love for her, on the warmth and tenderness and comfort, and try to send all those emotions through their bond, hoping that they might reach her…

… and to pray for a miracle, for a chance to talk to her – before it was too late.

. o O o .

Astrid felt as if she would break apart at any moment now. 

No, that wasn’t true. She’d already fallen apart. It was only her well-trained mask that followed Tuff through the corridors and to her rooms, while inside she'd already crumbled into a million tiny pieces. 

This day… she’d looked forward to and dreaded it at the same time. The ball tonight with her unofficial choice was supposed to give her comfort, stabilising her in the path she’d taken. But the closer the day had come the more simply thinking about it, about renouncing everything that had been between her and Hiccup, had seemed impossible. And the ride… The ride had been a gift from Eret to her. It had been meant to be at least a tiny bit of freedom, of doing what she loved amidst this entire mess. Contrary to what she’d told her father, she had been looking forward to spending a few hours on Markor’s back, even with knowing that the pace and the company would be annoying. 

But now, the ride had turned into her worst nightmare, and within only a few short moments everything had changed. Thuggory approaching her and his stallion snapping at Markor who'd already been skittish all day. Him shying away from any stallion had happened so often before and she’d always known how to rein him in again. But today, with her heart and mind being entirely somewhere else and with the cursed side-saddle having given her less control, she hadn’t been fast enough – hadn’t been good enough. She hadn’t been able to keep him calm, Markor had run away from his attacker, and the only thing Astrid had been able to do about it had been holding on to him as best she could. Then she’d lost her balance as the broad back beneath her had suddenly dropped. She’d fallen, landing painfully on the ground, and that scream… 

It had all happened so fast and she barely remembered anything of what had happened afterwards, but that sound… Never in her life would she be able to forget that scream.

When they reached her chambers, Astrid barely registered how Tuff warded off any questions his sister tried to ask her. Instead, she stumbled past her maidservant and… she didn’t even think about where to go. It seemed inevitable, like there was only one place to go, one object that could soothe her in her current state. 

Unable to hold herself on her legs any longer, she slumped down into the chair in front of her desk. Her fingers were trembling when she opened the lid to her treasure chest but still didn’t waver as they reached for her trusted music box. The familiar tune would help her, it always did. She just needed a few minutes to pull herself together again, just watching the tiny dancer for a few rounds. Surely, this would centre her enough to, somehow, survive the ball and everything attached to it. 

Taking the music box out of the coffer and getting it started happened without her even having to think about it. But even as she was doing that, her eyes had fallen on another object in her box, a simple object that was still able to stir up new emotions inside her whenever she looked at it: the wooden carving of a horse that looked so much like Markor and that Hiccup had given her – as a reminder.

Astrid’s entire body shook as she fought to keep her feelings locked deep inside her. She couldn't let them loose, not ever, or she wasn't sure whether she would be able to contain them again. But...

Markor – her beloved horse, Eret's gift, the witness to those first hours she'd spent with Hiccup, the tiny grasp of freedom her father had granted her – was dead! Nothing could return him to her. She would never see him again, never hear his happy snort when she came to visit him, never again feel the warmth of his fur beneath her hands or the simple comfort they could give each other when he playfully rubbed his nose against her chest. And she hadn't even been able to say goodbye. 

A desperate sob tore itself from her throat at that realisation, of how utterly insurmountable it was to retrieve what was lost forever. How was she supposed to pull herself together enough for the ball? It was only an hour or two before she would have to be presentable and face all those men again. It felt impossible, and she wasn't sure whether her soothing music box would be enough. 

On the pure reflex of having done the same motion countless times before,  she reached out to shake the music box as it approached the usual sticking point in the music – except that it didn't get stuck.

Because Hiccup had repaired it.

With wide eyes, Astrid gazed at the music box, at the tiny dancer as it twirled in time with the unfamiliar tune. She could feel it as the last dam insider her cracked at that moment. All she got out was a weak whimper before the flood wave of sorrow crashed down on her, drowning her in all those memories and emotions she'd tried to lock away forever.

Hiccup.

She'd forbidden herself to think about him. For roughly a week now, she'd tried to convince herself that she was okay, or would be at least. That she could be happy with Eret, could live a life other than at his side. But she'd been deceiving herself, she now realised – and probably had known it the entire time. 

Even when she'd tried to focus on talking to Eret or had found some form of comfort in his closeness, she'd still been so aware of Hiccup, of where exactly he stood or whether he was in the same room at all. Even without her help, her eyes had wandered through the room only to glide over him in passing, never lingering but unable to stay away from him either. Yes, she'd been a fool… but it had taken this day to realise it.

Losing Markor had hurt like nothing else – and still did – but in a strangely different way, the ride back to the castle had hurt just as much. Hiccup had been so close! His warmth had radiated toward her even without him touching her, and his breath on her neck had sent pleasant shivers down her spine. It could have been perfect; she'd just needed to lean back a tiny little bit then she could have basked in his embrace, could have imagined his love and comfort around her like a blanket. She could have imagined that there was still hope for them.

But there was no hope.

Hiccup had made it clear that, no matter how much they both might long for it, there was no way for them. He'd given up. And no matter how desperate she still might be for there to just be something, his behaviour today had proven that nothing had changed. He hadn't even made a single attempt at talking to her or holding her; not even a hug or the comforting words of a friend. Just silence and distance despite the longing she thought she'd felt thrumming through their bond. 

It was then when she broke down for real, half-draped across her desk and with the melody of the music box taunting her until it ran out. She cried, harder and more abundantly than even during the nights before. Markor was lost forever and so was Hiccup and their future. Over and over her mind circled around the same thoughts, unable to find a way out.

She couldn't go on any longer. Markor was dead. Her future with Hiccup was lost. And yet, every fibre of her being still longed for him, his warm embrace, his sweet kisses, and the ease and comfort of simply being with him. She needed him like she needed the air to breathe. She couldn't go on any longer…

. o O o .

Astrid stood at the head of the big ballroom, hidden from everyone by a thick curtain. She only dimly recalled how she’d gotten here; Ruff had eventually shaken her out of her stupor and whispered the only words that still held some meaning. 

For Eret. 

Her own life had no worth to her, not anymore. All she still could do was help to make her best friend's life easier. It was only a small comfort, but it would have to be enough. It was all that was left to her. So she'd let Ruff make her presentable; she'd gotten her hair and makeup in order and had dressed her in the most extravagant outfit Astrid had worn so far; the bust had a beautiful intricate pattern of different shades of blue, ranging from dark midnight to a rich sky blue, while the skirt was made of countless layers of the lightest silk she'd ever seen, floating around her like a cloud of nearly white light blue. Her silver swan coronet and a pair of silken dark-blue gloves that reached up to her elbows completed her appearance, and under different circumstances, she probably would have complimented the exquisite handiwork of the dressmaker.

Now though, she simply stood there behind her curtain, apathetically waiting for her sign to join the celebrating crowd. She could hear them talking and laughing, and there was music too, many couples certainly dancing already.  

A part of her wanted to charge into the room and scream at them all; how could they celebrate on a day like this? 

But, of course, to them, nothing bad had happened today. Nothing but a small accident with no casualties except for a dumb horse. Nothing serious. Nothing but exciting gossip on this day of socialising and forming bonds. There was a reason the invited guests had also brought their daughters, after all; with so many eligible noblemen looking for a bride, her unofficial choice tonight would certainly discourage some of those who'd been courting her, enough so that they might turn their attention to other young noblewomen instead. Hers wouldn't be the only betrothal that would soon be celebrated. 

Astrid was torn between hating having to wait here and dreading the moment she would have to step in front of the crowd. People would expect a decision from her – and she wasn't ready! How could she ever be ready to renounce their divine connection? But all too soon, the music paused and with a whispered "It's your turn now, milady. Make me proud," her governess shooed her out of her hiding place. If Astrid had possessed the energy, she would have wanted to scratch the woman’s eyes out for her words. But as it was, all she could do was mutely take her place at her father's side, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest, and she felt dizzy as all eyes in the room turned toward her. She was sure that the King said some important-sounding words, announcing the next dance to be ladies' choice with only implying the deeper meaning of her choice, but she didn't hear any of it. 

Slowly, as if in a trance, she took the couple of steps leading down from the dais to the dance floor. She couldn't hear anything over her blood rushing through her ears, could barely see more than blurry faces swimming in a sea of meaningless colours. And then, even those were gone, and even though she could feel her body moving on, the scene playing out behind her mind's eye was another.

“One day, we will dance together,” he promised, murmuring against her skin. “I’ll come to you, open and for everyone to see, and ask you for a dance. Maybe they would stare and wonder, but it won’t matter. There will be only you and me. Forever.”

Astrid chuckled at his mellow words, even as the picture they painted was a beautiful one. “What makes you think you’ll be the one to ask?” she replied, and turned her head to seek his skin with her lips. “Maybe it’ll be ladies’ choice. I’d walk along the line of waiting men, not seeing any of them, only you…”

A hiccupy sob tore itself from her chest before she could hold it back and recompose herself. Oh, how she wished those words from what seemed to be another life could become reality. 

Without her help, her eyes landed on his and for the first time in days stayed there as she kept walking along the line of watching people. And what she saw there nearly broke her all over again. She saw his longing that found its echo in her own heart, saw his love and warmth just like she felt it all thrumming in her chest. She had no doubt that he'd remembered their conversation about dancing together just now too, knew that he wanted it to be real just like she did.

But that was impossible. This wasn't about what they wanted anymore, and never had been. There was no hope for their dream of a shared future, and indulging in this wish of at least dancing with him this one time would only cause problems, possibly even his death. 

There was no hope...

She'd almost reached him before she managed to squelch those thoughts and turn her eyes away from him. It was lucky, really, that Eret would stand right next to him, or people would have wondered why she'd come here in the first place. With her last strength, she turned her head, her hollow eyes finding those of her friend. Her hand reaching out to him was only half asking him for the dance; the other half was seeking something to hold on to as the entire room started to spin around her. 

She felt as if she was falling; when Eret took her hand, when he led her back into the middle of the room, even when the music started and they began to move in time with the melody. She was falling, falling, falling, and not even Eret's arms around her were able to hold her anymore. The whole room around her was spinning faster and faster, and not just because of their dancing. Everything around her was nothing but a blur – except for one single face amidst the crowd, the only face she would always find, no matter what. He was moving, walking away from the dancefloor and the crowd and toward the large glass doors that led out into the garden. Before he left her sight, however, he turned and their eyes met once more.

And the way he looked at her… sadness and pain mixed with desperate longing, the same turmoil of emotions she was feeling too. But there was also something else, something more, another emotion she couldn’t quite name right away. It took her another moment or three, time in which he slipped out of the room, before she understood. And when she did, the sensation of falling and of the world around her spinning too fast became even worse. 

Hiccup had looked disappointed.

As if he’d hoped!

It was all too much... Astrid couldn’t take any more, and from one moment to the other, everything around her turned black...

. o O o .

Astrid awoke to a mild headache, a bitter taste on her tongue, and the room still spinning around her. It wasn’t as bad as before though, which was good. She blinked, trying to clear her head and remember what had happened. But after walking past the waiting men, there was nothing.

The room around her was only dimly lit by a small lamp somewhere to her side. It wasn't her bedroom that much was clear, but it took her a moment before she realised where she was: in one of the smaller parlours that were attached to the ballroom and that usually provided space for people to talk more privately. Someone must have brought her here, after…

"Are you feeling better, milady?"

Astrid flinched at those words – she'd thought she was alone – but it was just Ruff who leaned over her, concern clear on her face. Instead of an answer, Astrid tried to sit up, groaning, and only managed when Ruff took hold of her hand and shoulder to help her up.

"Careful, don’t rush it now. You’ve been out for about twenty minutes. Here, drink this and give yourself a few minutes before you get up." She handed her a glass of watered wine, but also placed her other hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing up.

Astrid accepted the glass gratefully and took a careful sip. She could practically feel how her body absorbed the liquid; had she eaten or drunk anything at all since breakfast? She couldn’t remember. After a minute or so of silence, she asked in a weak voice, “What happened?”

Ruff watched her with a concerned grimace. “You fainted during your opening dance with Eret. He caught you – which, granted, wasn’t too hard with you already being in his arms, I guess – and directly brought you here. I’m a little impressed, actually. Another man would have gotten annoyed at this grand moment – your first official dance as nearly-betrothed – getting interrupted. But he acted more like an apprehensive mother hen; it got so bad that I sent him away to fetch… whatever I was thinking about at that moment. Tuff is guarding the door, so you can rest here until you feel better. He won’t let anyone in for now.”

Astrid nodded mutely and slowly sipped her wine, her lips twitching into something like a faint smile at Ruff’s words. She wondered how Tuff would react if the King himself demanded entrance – not that that was very likely – and was fairly sure that her warder would even try to keep him away if he thought it necessary. 

As she drank, memories of what had happened before her blackout slowly came back to her though, even if only in fractions. The sensation of falling, and a single face in a sea of colours with an impossible expression on it. He’d made it clear that there was no hope left for them, no chance of ever being together. And yet, he’d been disconcerted when she turned to Eret after all. He still hoped!

“I need to talk to him,” she murmured, startling Ruff when her words broke the silence between them. She placed the glass on a low side table and pushed herself up onto shaky legs, her eyes darting to where another set of doors led into the gardens, before Ruff could hold her back. She couldn’t let anyone hold her back now! If there was even the tiniest bit of hope left for her and Hiccup, then she had to take it.

“Wait, wait,” Ruff tried to interfere hastily. “Who do you mean? Eret? I can tell Tuff to call him in, no problem. No need for you to–”

Astrid interrupted her. “No, I don’t mean Eret.” 

She didn’t elaborate, just threw her maidservant a desperate look. Ruff had witnessed her crying into her pillows night after night; she had to know who she was talking about. And she clearly did. Astrid could see the understanding dawn in her eyes. Her hand on Astrid’s shoulder tightened, and for a second, it seemed as if she would hold her back, would call Tuff back in and whoever else might be waiting for her to come back to her senses. One witness, and Astrid sneaking out into the night would become impossible. But then she drew her hand back and gave her a tight nod. 

“Go. Do what you have to; Tuff and I will buy you as much time as we can.”

Astrid swallowed, touched by Ruff’s words. She’d never doubted the twins’ loyalty to her, and after learning that they’d known about her sneaking away but hadn’t told anyone, Astrid had begun to understand that this loyalty was stronger than she’d thought. But only now did she realise just how deep in really went. She would have to find a way to thank them later. But for now, all she could do was breathe a heartfelt, “Thank you,” before slipping out into the night. The cool air bit into the skin of her bare upper arms; maybe it would have been more prudent to take some form of cloak with her, but she didn’t care. She had no idea how much time she would have; she wouldn’t waste what she had with something that trivial. 

Logically, she should have been worried whether Hiccup would even still be out here or how she was supposed to find him among the ample labyrinth of hedges and flower beds and bushes and trees. But somehow, she knew exactly where to find him; it was just like it had been in that first night, Eret’s accolade, when some inner sense had told her where he was at any moment. Maybe it was the separation that had let their bond intensify like this or it was the Gods’ interference that guided her, she didn’t know – but she also didn’t care. All she cared about was that she could feel how she got closer to him with every step or turn, that it would only be a matter of a few more heartbeats, until– 

She stopped dead in her tracks when she reached an opening amidst the hedges and spotted him standing at the other end, only a handful of steps away from her. So close and they were entirely alone out here. This was exactly what a part of her – the part that still was and always would be his Astrid – had longed for ever since he’d fled from the armoury almost two weeks ago; the chance to talk freely, to be just them again. 

But now that it was here, she didn’t know what to do or say. He’d clearly noticed her arrival; his shoulders had visibly tensed and, surely, he had felt her approach just like she had felt him, too. He didn’t react though, didn’t say or do anything, and for a moment, Astrid feared she might have read too much into that moment of shared desperate looks. What if she’d been wrong, if nothing had changed? She wasn’t sure whether either of them would be strong enough to live through another meeting like their last one. 

So she stood still, eyes fixed on his hunched-over figure and uncertain what to do, before she reminded herself of something she’d learned during the happy months she’d spend with him: that she could ask him everything, that with him, she didn’t need to hold back. She only hoped that was still true. 

“What just happened in there?” she blurted out before she could overthink again.

At first, she thought Hiccup wouldn’t respond though, his shoulders only growing even tenser. But eventually, he did react, if not as she’d hoped he would. 

“What do you mean?” he asked in a low, nearly inaudible whisper. His back was still turned toward her and with a breeze rustling the twigs around them, she shouldn’t have been able to understand him. But right now, she would’ve picked out his voice amidst a thunderstorm. 

“I mean… I mean the way you looked, right before you left. Wha-what was that supposed to mean?” 

Hiccup grunted out something like a harsh and unamused laugh before he finally turned his head to look at her. It was dark out here, the lights of the castle barely reaching them, but she could still see that his eyes were hollow and tired. “I know I suggested it,” he murmured. “But… it’s so hard to watch you two together. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough; I didn’t mean to let you see this. You… you should go back, I’m sure everyone is missing you already.” 

And what about you? she wanted to demand, but kept herself from blurting out those harsh words. They weren’t necessary, she didn’t doubt that he was missing her too. But that wasn’t the point. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she replied instead, her voice gentle and soothing, if a little weak. If he only felt half as brittle as she did, then harsh words wouldn’t help right now. “You looked… disappointed, as if you’d expected me to do something else. And I… I just…” she trailed off, again unsure of what to say. 

Hiccup turned a little more, eyeing her with the intensity she’d missed dearly. “You… what?”

“I… I need to know what you were thinking,” she added. “Please…”

There was an uncomfortable pause in which nothing but both their breathing was audible, his getting heavier by the second, as if he was struggling with some inner fight. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he gave a weak nod. “You’re right,” he murmured. “For a moment, I thought… I thought you’d come to me instead. I know how stupid that was, given everything that happened, but–” he paused, shrugging helplessly– “I guess I was hoping for a miracle, for this nightmare to end. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Astrid could do little but stare at him as her mind tried to work through his words. Oh, they were simple enough and she knew what he meant, had felt the same. But there was one thing he’d said, one single word that threatened to make everything around her fall apart again. 

“You’ve… You’ve been hoping?” she gasped, her knees going weak. 

Hiccup obviously understood the implication and met her eyes with a clear look. “Yes.”

For the second time this night, the whole world around her was spinning. Everything she’d done lately – giving up her dreams and giving in to the expectations placed on her, accepting the thought of becoming Eret’s wife and trying to find comfort in that fate – all that she’d done based on one single fact: that Hiccup had given up and that there was nothing she could do either. That there was no hope left for them. But if that wasn’t true, if Hiccup still hoped…

The feeling of spinning got worse, as if she might pass out again at any moment. This was too much. The day had been too much, worse than any before, and the thought that she might have given up too soon... She was falling again, idly wondering whether hitting the soft grass beneath her would hurt or whether she’d even still feel the impact – but it never came to that. 

From one heartbeat to the next, she was suddenly caught in an embrace she’d thought she would never feel again. His warmth and closeness washed through her like a healing wave that made her whimper helplessly. It felt so good. Weakly, she huddled closer against his chest, seeking more of what she’d missed so desperately: His warmth, his scent, his closeness, the feeling of rightness and security he always gave her. She didn’t say anything for a while, only basked in it all until the world stopped spinning and her mind became a little clearer again. 

“I thought there was no hope left for us,” she eventually mumbled against his chest. They were both back on their feet now, but still entangled in a tight embrace with one another. Her arms wrapped around his waist to hold on to him. She never wanted to let go of him again. 

“There is always hope,” he seemed to mumble into her hair.

Her mind went blank for a moment. No. She must have misheard him. Her mind was playing tricks on her, taunting her. “What?” she gasped out and turned her head until she could look up at him. She needed more than just words, needed to see it for herself.

Hiccup looked at her as well, a mixture of soft adoration and desperate longing in his eyes. “‘There is always hope’,” he repeated and loosened his hold around her to brush a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes. “That’s what the Goddess told me.” He paused, hesitantly licking his lips. “I… had another vision last night,” he explained upon her confused look. “She visited me in my dreams and, among other things, told me that there’s always hope. That… that I would only have to do what comes naturally for me and then we can be together.” He shrugged self-consciously.

Astrid leaned her forehead back against his chest as she tried to grasp what he’d just told her. She wanted to believe him, only the Gods knew how much she wanted. But did she dare to do so? She took a minute to try and make sense of it all, all whilst holding on to him as tightly as she could. She wanted it to be true, wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. But could she rebuild her hope based on nothing but this? Could she give in to the growing longing that was about to burst through her inner walls and tear down the brittle construct of another life she’d build over the last week? Did she even have a choice?

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a dream, just wishful thinking?” she asked, her voice close to breaking. His heartbeat was thrumming in her ear as her hands tightened in his tunic at his back, desperate to believe it as well but also afraid of renewed pain. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to endure that.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he eventually murmured, hesitantly, and when she looked up again, he had his face averted, chewing at his lip in thoughts. “It’s a… a long story. Not something to tell you now. But yes, I have enough reason to believe that it wasn’t just an ordinary dream. She told me things, knew things that…” 

He trailed off when she began to tremble uncontrollably, keening, and his arms around her tightened until he was almost crushing her. It still wasn’t enough. In that moment, as the emotional tide she’d tried to hold back burst through her and washed away every reasonable thought left, she only wanted him to hold her tighter, closer, until they were merged together, inseparably. 

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. For now, it was enough to just hold each other, to be this close again after a separation that had lasted for far too long. Again, Astrid was basking in it all, his warmth and comfort, in the reassurance and safety she felt radiating from him. But it was so much more intense now compared to earlier as it came with the hope that their suffering might be over. She was amazed at how simple it was, at how easily they clicked back together. The torn pieces of her heart slid back into place, the edges reconnecting as if nothing had ever happened. She was back in Hiccup’s arms and, for this moment, everything was perfect. 

But she knew that reality couldn’t be warded off forever. Even with how good and right it felt to be with him again, they couldn’t stay out here in the cool gardens forever. Sooner rather than later, she would have to get back. People would start to look for her, if they hadn’t already; Ruff wouldn’t be able to appease them for much longer. She had to get back to the ball before someone noticed her absence, had to get back to her mask, to playing her part. She had to get back to become Eret’s wife. 

She sobbed as this realisation hit her. She loved Eret, as her friend and her brother, she really did. But the idea of actually marrying him now that new hope for her being with her soulmate had taken root inside her…

“I can’t do this,” she whispered weakly. Hiccup tensed up and made attempts to pull away from her, but she wouldn’t let him and instead clung to him with all the strength she had left. “I can’t go back in there and pretend anymore,” she elaborated instead. “Not when this is still possible. Please, Hiccup. What can we do?”

“I-I don’t know.” He sounded incredibly brittle, vulnerable. “All I know is that there must be a way, but I don’t know what it is. Nothing has changed there. But… but I will find a way through this!” 

His words, muffled into her hair, did little to calm her. Without a doubt, it was soothing to know that they were on the same page again. But he was right; nothing had changed. There still was no way out for them, and their time to find one was limited. Not marrying Eret after tonight would cause some turmoil, but it would pass. Her choice at the ball hadn’t been binding, after all. But that left them only two more weeks until that choice would become official, until going back on her word would cause a great amount of trouble, no matter how close the Houses Hofferson and Jag’r were. But if they couldn’t find a way... 

“Take me away from here.” The words were out before she could think about it. It didn’t matter that they’d talked about that option before, didn’t matter that, logically, she knew it was insane. It was the only solution she could think of. 

“Astrid, that’s–”

But before Hiccup could say any more, object to her idea as she expected, she cut him off with a quick shake of her head. She wasn’t sure whether some part of her had thought this through before or whether she was making it up as she went, but from one second to the other, the idea was in her head, crystal clear and simple.

“Not right now,” she clarified. “We have a few days to plan ahead. When we choose the right moment, some busy time over a longer hunt, for example, it could take up to an entire day before someone notices I’m gone. We can pack provisions to last us a few days and then we can hunt and live off the forest until they give up. There’s no need for us to stick to taverns and inns where people can easily find us. We can stay away from the roads, travel through the forests and fields to avoid search parties, at least for a while. It’s possible, I know it is.” And if someone finds us, she added mentally. Then they will have to get through me to get to you. Out loud, she added, “And once we’re free of any hunters, we can go somewhere safe, build that simple home we saw. I’m sure you can find work wherever we go, be it working with livestock or as a mechanic, or maybe even as a blacksmith’s apprentice. And I can learn how to cook, I’ll take care of our home and raise our children. I know it won’t always be easy, but together we can do it. Please, at least consider it.”

Hiccup had listened to every word she’d said, quietly and without interrupting her. She had fully expected him to do so or to object now, to come up with some logical reasoning why that wouldn’t be possible. But nothing like that happened. Instead, he lifted one hand to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheekbone. 

“I wasn’t going to turn that idea down,” he said in a low, hoarse whisper, his eyes fixed on hers. There was a sincerity in them, a determination that she hadn’t seen there before. “If I’ve learned one thing from these past weeks, then it’s that I’m ready to do everything to not lose you again. Even something as crazy as eloping with you.” His lips twitched into something of a smile despite his somewhat sad expression. “But you’re right, that won’t be easy. I’ve lived on the road for long enough to know how hard it can be, how cold the nights can get and how merciless hunger can become. And we wouldn’t even simply live on the road, but on the run; that would make everything so much harder. So let’s keep that as a last resort, okay?”

Smiling, Astrid relaxed a little more. “Okay,” she breathed, smiling. A ‘last resort’ was good, a backup plan, the assurance that nothing could separate them. It was hope. However, there was one thing she needed before she could go back, one more assurance. “Just... promise me one thing.” 

“Everything!” he replied without hesitation, a weak chuckle vibrating through his chest. “Whatever you want, Milady, the answer is yes.”

Oh, it was so good to see and hear and feel him like this again, so light and free, with at least a spark of confidence. Astrid wanted these minutes with him to never end. She knew that they only had a little time left though, and she didn’t want to waste that. This was important to her, important for her sanity. “Don’t let me go,” she pleaded. “Not ever again. Whatever happens, there’s no giving up anymore.”

Pain sparked up in his eyes at the reminder, but it disappeared almost instantly and got replaced by burning sincerity. “I won’t let go,” he vowed. “Not ever again. Whatever happens, I will fight for us.”

Him wording his reply exactly like her request before made her smile turn a few shades warmer and softer, and with a sighed, “Thank you!” she rested her head back against his chest. She would have to go back any minute now, but until then, she wanted to soak up as much of his warmth and closeness as she could. She was sure that she would need it. 

The minutes stretched though, and every time she felt as if the moment to part, at least for now, had come, she found another reason to stay just a tiny bit longer. Like how much she’d missed his scent of leather and sunshine, how good his fingers felt as they caressed her bare upper arms, or how much the even sound of his breathing calmed her. Gods, she’d missed him so much! Being here with him now after all the pain of the past weeks, it almost felt like a dream in itself, like it was too good to be true. But it was true; it had to be with the cool breeze slowly getting uncomfortable through the thin fabric of her dress and with the distant music of the ball echoing toward them no matter how hard she tried to tune it out. 

She was about to retreat, for real this time, when some unexpected sounds made them both flinch. No, not unexpected, not really, but… but… Astrid felt panic rise inside her as the noises, footsteps and the low whispering of clearly more than one person, came closer and closer to where they were ‘hiding’ – in a separate clearing, yes, but still in full view should someone enter. 

Shaking with the old fear of getting caught, Astrid’s eyes darted around over the hedges and scrubs. She was looking for a place to hide, making a step backwards – or tried to, at least. Hiccup’s arms around her didn’t loosen to let her move away; on the contrary, it felt as if he held her even tighter.

“Hiccup, what… Let me… I need to hide!” There was panic in her voice now as it was in her eyes as she looked up at him, pleading, begging him to– 

“I won’t let go,” he whispered urgently, something like frantic desperation gleaming in his eyes. “Not ever again…”

For a moment, her fear grew even stronger as she tried to struggle free. They mustn’t be found like this, in full view of whoever might happen upon them and tightly entangled, without leaving any doubt about the nature of this meeting. They had to part, to hide, had to pray and hope that whoever was coming in their direction wouldn’t spot them. It would only make everything worse. 

But then, she remembered her own thought from earlier. ‘Then they will have to get through me to get to you.’ In an instant, she stopped struggling and sought his eyes with her own, sought confirmation. Her hand landed on his chest, over his heart, at the same moment as he touched her in the same way, and they shared a short but decisive nod. If necessary, they would fight every battle for each other, for their right to be together. 

All of a sudden, she felt incredibly light, with all fear and worries having evaporated in a heartbeat. This was where she was supposed to be, where the Gods had placed her. Where she belonged. It wasn’t even a choice when she stretched then, her free hand moving up to curl around his neck, and pressed her lips to his. It was inevitable, the only logical thing to do. 

Hiccup didn’t even seem surprised, welcomed her even with a soft sigh that sounded as if an incredible weight had been lifted off his soul. And Astrid felt the same. The moment their lips met it was as if she could breathe freely for the first time in a long while, as if she’d been drowning and now had broken through the surface again. She’d meant for this to be a gentle kiss, one that spoke of reconciliation and reassurance. But after only one heartbeat, it became something else, something more. Reconciliation turned into reconnecting, reassurance into the promise that they would never deny their love again. Their lips and tongues moved together, more eager and demanding after the long break, just like their entire bodies thought more contact, clutching and pulling. Hiccup’s hand curled around the base of her head, and for once neither of them cared that he might ruin the intricate pattern of her braids. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to them except each other.

Maybe it wasn’t the powerful connecting of their first true kiss, not the meeting and melding of a thunderstorm and a flood wave. But it felt like so much more, like the force of nature brewing between them had finally reached its full power, ready to strike out at whoever dared to get too close. At that moment, with them clutching at each other and with their moans and their gasping breaths mingling between hungry mouths, she felt invincible.

And not even the footsteps behind her coming to an abrupt halt and the whispering turning into stunned silence could change that. 

 . o O o .

So, yeah... This last scene didn't turn out as I always imagined it. In my mind, it always was a highly emotional and tragic scene, still a reunion, but not as hopeful as it is now, but more one that happened by luck. Ah, well. It now is as it is. And I'm still kinda happy how it turned out, even with aaaall the things I had to cut out because they didn't fit to how the story had developed anymore or wouldn't work with these characters at all.

I hope it was still satisfying enough...

Next chapter

[monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my]

What We Lost and What We Have: Chapter 2

May 18, 2000, the night Sam learned 3 things.

John had cheated on Mary. Kelly Kline was dead. And his younger half brother Jack was born…

Nearly 17 years later their family never really recovered. But after a panicked phone call from Jack's uncle Castiel, their family will never be the same.

"It's Jack, there's something wrong with Jack..."

AU somewhat inspired by Episode 2x20 - What Is and What Should Never Be, and the season 14 storyline concerning Jack's illness.

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AO3

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Chapter 2:  A history of dumbassery, inadequacy, and definitely not a dog

“Dean are you still there?” Castiel’s voice was tilting away from fear into the realm of frustration and irritation again.

There was a long pregnant pause before Dean responded.

“What?”

He recognized the noises in the background of the call now. A tinny intercom with someone repeating a doctor’s name in a cool casual tone, distant the ringing of phones, a crying baby...the sounds of a busy emergency room.

“Jack he…” Castiel took a shaky breath trying to center himself, “we… we went back to our hotel after… what happened at the cemetery.”

He seemed finally balance himself on the rock that was being annoyed with Dean. Dean was too damn tired to care.

Castiel rambled “Jack said he was tired and had a headache so I gave him some Advil and let him sleep. I thought he was fine, upset…" he jabbed the word at Dean, "still getting over the cold he caught at school but fine…”

“Just please get to the point,” Dean groaned, he vaguely remembered the teenager hacking up a lung in the graveyard earlier that day. “So what? Does the kid have the coughing plague or something?”

Castiel went dead silent.

“We… we went out for a late dinner last night and he…” his voice broke, “Jack collapsed… he had a seizure.”

Dean’s mouth went dry “...Shit.” was all he could think to say.

Dean’s medical knowledge didn’t really go beyond the basic first aid needed for the occasional burns and bruises that came with working around hot engines and moving parts in the auto shop. But years of watching… certain soap opera’s told him that was very bad. Unless...

“Is that… normal for him?” Dean asked lamely, he wasn’t exactly an expert on Jack’s medical history.

By the time Jack came around Dean had already moved out, and he hadn’t been exactly been going out of his way to spend time with the kid in the few years Jack lived with John part-time. He’d only really seen Jack when John couldn’t first a sitter for work.

“Would I CALL you if it was?” Castiel nearly spat voice shaking clearly regressing back into panic mode.

Dean bit back a spiteful, “Then why the fuck did you call!?”

He wasn’t heartless. Even if the two people in question were people he’d pay good money to have not come within the same state as him ever again. A kid in the hospital… it was some rough shit.

When Sam was little he’d broken his arm jumping off the front porch railing of their house trying to be Superman. He remembered his parent's frantic frustrated arguing on the way to the hospital about who was supposed to be keeping an eye on Sam. His mother trying gently to get him to sit still for the x-ray. The sound of Sammy crying.

He settled on the slightly less harsh. “What do you want from me then?”

Castiel gave a long-suffering sigh, the one he inevitable heard whenever he tried to speak to the man, like he was trying to explain physics to an eight-year-old.

“They… they want to run tests, blood, an MRI, I know one thing they’re testing for is meningitis, and if it’s that’s what it is…” He let the sentence hang.

There was another voice in the background of the call. probably a nurse by their soft reassuring tone and Castiel’s uneasy thank you’s. He came back after a moment.

“Listen they're moving Jack to a room if it’s what I said... then the doctor will probably want to see you and your brother or… something. I’ll… I’ll call you later in the morning when he’s settled in, please just… get here alright…?” Castiel sounded as exhausted as Dean felt.

Dean suppressed a yawn, “Yeah… yeah sure just um… how about after the sun comes up this time eh?”

Castiel abruptly hung up and Dean blinked blearily at the phone for a moment before snorting.

"Typical..."

The combination of the liquor, lack of sleep and sheer bizarreness of the conversation were making the whole call feel surreal, like a bang on the roof in the dead of night you weren’t sure whether you imagined it or not.

Maybe whatever was going on with the kid would sort itself out by morning and he wouldn’t have to deal with this…

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Seven-ten the next morning Sam saw the big black muscle car pull up beside his hybrid in the parking lot of Lawrence Memorial. Dean exited the car wearing a pair of dark aviators despite the fact the sun had only just risen.

“Long night?”

Dean pulled off the glasses and shoved them into his jacket pocket shooting Sam a deadly glare, clearly not over what happened the day before.

“Did Saint Castiel tell you anything new?” Dean sighed draining the last of a cup of fast food coffee.

“I still don’t know why you insist on calling him that,” Sam said with a long-suffering sigh.

Dean tilted his head sardonically and tossing the cup in the bin by the door, “Yes... you do.”

“Let me rephrase that.” Sam's voice sharpened, “Maybe just don’t today okay Dean? Maybe for once act like a functioning adult, because this is neither the time nor the place for your bullshit…”

Dean stared at him eyes narrowed for a long moment before his posture relaxed and he shrugged.

“Okay.”

“Okay…” Sam said in mild disbelief.

Dean sighed and scrubbed at his eyes, wincing, “yeah fine, I get it. This shit it’s... crazy.”

There was a long significant pause.

“Castiel said he’d meet us up by the pediatrics ward…” Sam said after a moment studying the hospital entry’s diamond-patterned linoleum.

“Pediatrics?” Dean seemed to wince at the sound of the word.

“Yeah, Dean… Jack’s 16,” Sam muttered, turning to walk inside without another word. He felt like maybe it was time for Dean to stew on that fact for a while.

Things were quiet for the entire ride to the third floor, each Winchester fuming in their separate corner of the elevator.

The door dinged pleasantly before popping open to reveal a pacing Castiel his suit jacket rumpled like he hadn’t taken it off since they met the morning before.

“Thank god finally.” he breathed, “I was beginning to think…” he sighed and shook his head, “never mind I just… the doctor’s need you to answer some questions about... your family...”

Castiel trailed off seeming to lose interest in explaining turning on his heel and walking determinedly down the corridor to the ward entrance, Sam and Dean looked at each other for a moment before Sam shrugged and followed quickly behind.

“Is he… is Jack alright?” Sam asked awkwardly.

“He’s um…” Castiel sighed and paused to punch in a number in the keypad that kept random passersby out of pediatrics ward. “He’s been really out of it since we got here, he’s sleeping now.”

There was an electronic chime and he quickly opened the door, “he’s in the third room on the right…” Castiel muttered.

Something about the statement bothered Sam he quickly caught up with Castiel, “they’re keeping Jack on a normal ward?”

“Hmm?” Castiel blinked back sheepishly.

“It’s just… when you called you said they thought he might have meningitis,” Sam said carefully, “and if he did I doubt the medical staff would let us, let alone Jack himself near any of the other patients.”

Castiel stopped walking again but didn’t look at him, “No they um… he doesn’t have a high enough fever and or stiffness… they don’t think it’s that anymore…”

Sam nodded eyes narrowing slightly in confusion, there was something about that answer that made him uncomfortable.

It seemed Dean didn’t have any trouble putting his finger on what it was, “why didn’t you say that when you called this morning?”

There was an awkward silence inappropriately punctuated by the sound of children giggling in the distance. Castiel still didn’t look at them.

“I mean that was the reason you gave us to come today… right,” Dean’s words were deceptively casual.

Maybe it was his own vague hurt that kept Sam from telling Dean to shut up.

“What? did you think we wouldn’t come if we didn’t think It’d affect us?” Dean said cooly mouth twitching.

Castiel finally turned to look at him eyebrows drawn together in a warning.

“Dean maybe you shouldn’t…” Sam tried before being cut off by a hand, Dean’s eyes didn’t waver unphased by Castiel’s glare.

“Is that really what you think? That if you needed us we’d just let Jack, a kid, suffer? Do you think we’re that petty?”

“I…” Castiel’s eyes darted in the direction of Jack’s room. Through the window, Sam could just spot his blanket covered feet at the end of the bed.

“Do you really think we're that shitty of people!?” Dean’s voice rose.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and he snapped back to Dean, “Think of you? I don’t think about you at all Winchester. I don’t know you!”

They both stared each other down for a long moment, sizing each other up. For a moment Sam thought they might start a fight right there in front of the wall mural of children of every race and color playing ring around the rosie, complete with a happy Sun.

But the seconds came and went.

“We would have come Castiel…” Sam said quietly.

Castiel finally looked up eyes watering slightly, and Sam could have sworn he saw the man’s hands shake.

“I couldn’t risk that…” he said softly.

The tenseness was broken a moment later by a sing-songy drawl.

“Well looks like the rest of the pissy party parade has arrived, so how about we take this little shindig out of the hall…”

Sam nearly leap a foot in the air, he hadn’t heard the nurse walk up, she stood behind him giving all three of them a smile that radiated the energy of someone who would just as easily disembowel them. With all their racket they probably deserved it.

“I’m sorry…” he glanced down at her name tag, “nurse Masters.”

She tapped her nails against her clipboard and gave him the same thin smile, “alright cupcake,” she tilted her head towards Jack’s room. “Right now there’s a very confused medical student sitting in there trying to figure out how exactly he’s supposed to get a history from RipVanWinkle, I figure he’d have more luck with you three.”

Cas moved first huffing softly quickly hurrying past the nurse seeming to forget the argument the second he was reminded of Jack.

Dean strolled slower behind the man still looking pissed off, leaving Sam alone in the corridor with the nurse who smiled at him expectantly.

“Right, sorry…” Sam unfroze and sheepishly followed.

Sam tried to look anywhere but at Jack when he entered the room, Castiel had automatically taken a seat in a chair on the far side of the boy’s bed his coat and a thin blue hospital blanket thrown across the back of it like he’d been camping there all night.

Dean was leaning against the far wall arms crossed, staring down a terrified-looking Asian kid in a lab coat clutching a clipboard to his chest.

By the time Sam took a seat beside the door and the nurse followed behind him the room was far too crowded for comfort.

In a room full of people he didn’t want to lock eyes with the unconscious kid in the bed suddenly became the least daunting sight.

There was an abrasion on Jack’s brow bone and a long bruise trailing down to his chin, like he’d fallen and hit head something hard on the way down.

Sam wished he felt more.

Jack was a pale stranger of a teenage boy, upsetting but...

Sam wondered if he was walking alone down the hallway and looking into the rooms if he would have even been able to pick Jack out of the other faces in their beds.

Seeing Jack like this made him feel pity and sadness, but seeing the deep-seated fear and worry on Castiel’s face

Jack was supposed to be family

Guilt bloomed in Sam’s chest. The only memory that he could pull up was at will was that Jack liked goldfish when he was two. He tried to look closer at the boy on the bed, pluck at the strings of his heart.

He focused on how Jack’s breathing was a little too fast and shallow, the heart rate on the monitor a little too rapid…

The kid was hooked up to an IV and about six different sensors, some wires trailing down the neck of his hospital gown one clipped onto the middle finger of his left hand. The opposite wrist and hand were strapped in a temporary splint, like his face probably a casualty of the seizure the night before.

The thought made Sam wince.

God this was a joke.

Someone cleared their throat “I uh… hello…” Sam broke out of his self deprecating reverie.

It was the medical student in the lab coat, gripping his clipboard and still nervously eyeing Dean. He yanked his eyes away to focus on Castiel.

“Are these the um… brothers you were talking about?”

Castiel didn’t look up from where he was straightening the blankets over Jack’s chest.

“They’ll be able to give you the information on his father’s side that I couldn’t,” he muttered distractedly.

“Half-brothers,” Dean said cooly from his position by the wall, “and I’m right over here.”

The nurse whistled strolling over to the side of Jack’s bed and picking up his chart.

“If nothing else…” she read, “Jack… will get a healthy dose of machismo today.” She frowned at something on the chart before clipping it back over the end of the bed and stepping closer to the monitor.

“Try not to make the med student piss himself okay? Bringing the janitor in here would put the room capacity over code,” the nurse said squinting at it.

“Is something wrong?” Cas asked her a little alarmed.

She gave him a smile no more sincere than her previous ones, but with worry and attempted comfort in the place of irritation.

“Don’t worry about it daddy dearest, nothing’s... changed.”

The way she said it didn’t seem all that positive when she immediately followed it up by leaving the room at a brisk pace.

They all stared after her awkwardly for a few seconds.

“A-about that history,” the med student said the tone of someone being forced to tell a joke at gunpoint.

Dean was still staring at guy though he looked more puzzled than threatening now. Dean had probably just been hungover in the first place and got the lab coat confused with the white wall when staring into empty space.

“Dude, I’m not going to eat you…”

The med student looked thoroughly unconvinced.

“Fine, you want history right?” Dean pulled one of the plastic chairs across the floor and leaned back against the wall, “ask away Kevin.”

The kid opened his mouth looking confused before glancing down at his name tag and turning red, “Right, um… your father?”

Dean turned to address his answer at Castiel. Castiel didn’t bother looking back.

“Died of a heart attack age 45, don’t know about his dad, grandma lives in Florida looking like she’s live to an ornery 105, anything else? I’m not here to hide anything” Dean shot the last sentence at Castiel before turning back to face Kevin.

The kid jumped.

“Y-yeah… your father’s heart attack, was it related to any pre-existing cardiac or pulmonary disease?”

Dean glanced up at Sam tilting his head befuddled.

“Heart and lung problems…” Sam huffed, “he didn’t have any I know of.”

“Yeah…” Dean looked down twirling his aviators in his hands, “he had high cholesterol, shitty bachelor’s diet and all that you know.”

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, “yeah because that wasn’t his own choice or anything.”

“Bite me, Sam.” Dean grinned at him leaning back in his chair again.

“If you’re not going to be helpful then leave,” Castiel barked suddenly shooting both brothers a steely look.

The door slid open again and nurse Masters re-entered with her hands full.

"I leave for two minutes and you' start the orgy without me,” she dropped her armload of supplies down on the rolling table at the end of the bed and got to work.

“Listen I can and will use the skills I've gained changing the sheets of three hundred pound men solo to kick your asses out of here so behave…" she warned.

Castiel was quickly distracted hovering over her every movement around Jack.

Sam and Dean's faces mirrored mild shock.

"Did she just threaten us?" Dean said nonplussed plunking his chair back on four legs.

"I think so," Sam blinked.

"Can she do that? Like legally?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I don't think she cares…"

Nurse Masters finished fitting a nasal cannula around Jack's face, marked down something on his chart, and left again flashing one last patent murder grin.

“Thanks…” the med student squeaked after her, quickly looking back to his clipboard when he realized everyone was staring.

“So um… is there anyone with a history of epilepsy in your family…” Kevin said not daring to look up again.

“Nope,” Dean sighed, distantly pissed again.

“Autoimmune disease?”

“Sam?” Dean said looked at him expectantly.

“No…” Sam sighed going to look through his emails on his phone, feeling more out of place by the second. He cleaned out his inbox to the tune of Dean’s repeated “no’s”

"Diabetes?"

"Nope," Dean yawned

Kevin tapped his clipboard with his pen, "Cancer?"

“Actually we did have a second cousin who’s died of cancer,”

“Oh?” Kevin’s head tilted up almost seeming relieved.

“Lung cancer, she smoked like three packs a day and worked in an asbestos factory,” Dean blinked and giving him a weird look.

“Oh…” Kevin trailed off.

“Cas?” a feeble voice broke the monotony.

Sam fumbled and almost dropped his phone, looking up.

Jack was waking up. The blanket shuffled slightly and he coughed hoarsely.

Castiel jumped and went almost immediately to hover over him.

The kid's eyes were half open glancing lazily around at the ceiling and Castiel like they weren't quite taking everything in.

"Jack?" Castiel asked voice quivered, "Jack I'm right here…"

The boy blinked dazedly reaching an exploratory hand up to feel the tube on his face tugging a little on the iv in his arm in the process. He blinked blearily at it for a moment and then his eyes snapped open breathing speeding up fearfully.

"Jack are you okay? hey hey, Jack… look at me…" Castiel said carefully laying a hand on his shoulder, "you're in the hospital."

Jack went stiff in his bed arms held awkwardly in front of him hovering over his chest like he was scared to move and accidentally yank on something important.

"No… no I…" he breathed looking around panicked, wincing, his eyes caught sight on the splint on his arm.

"I'm sorry…" he mumbled giving another hacking cough and tearing up, "did I… did I get in a fight? I'm sorry, please don't ground me…"

He didn’t even seem to notice Sam or Dean in the room.

"No Jack you're not in trouble you didn't do anything," Castiel quickly reassured him with a soft smile, "you… fell Jack…" his voice cracked.

Something in Sam’s stomach squirmed like he was invading something incredibly personal and private.

Castiel took a steadying breath that came out almost as shakily as Jack’s."Y-you had a seizure, Jack…"

The teenager’s eyes widened.

“Do you… do you remember anything about what happened?” Cas reached out to gently relax Jack’s arms back on top of his blanket.

“M-my head hurt… I…” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I felt… weird, I went to the bathroom…” he trailed off.

Cas smiled sadly, “you did, and you locked the door…” he gently held the boy's non-splinted hand, “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

Dean must have felt as out of place as Sam did because at that point with barely a sound he got up face unreadable and left the room.

Jack finally noticed his older siblings then roaming glazed eyes landing bewildered on Dean’s retreating back before shifting to Sam.

Sam’s chest jumped and he opened his mouth searching for something to say but Jack looked quickly away as if burned before he could get anything out.

It hard for Sam to resist following Dean right out the door after that. Instead, Sam tried to busy himself on his phone drafting an email to his work that he’d be a day late flying back.

“No no, I…” Jack face screwed up and he coughed again much harsher than before into his free hand, “I can’t,” his breath came out in a wheezy huff between coughs.

The medical student Kevin came to the side of his bed and picked up the control pushing a button causing the back to come to a half seated position.

It seemed to help because the coughing eased after a few moments and Jack was finally able to finish his sentence.

He cleared his throat, his pale face stained pink from the stress of the attack, “I… I can’t be in the hospital… we need to go home… I need to feed F-felix.”

"Felix? Did Jack have a dog or something," Sam thought.

Castiel comforted him gently, “Jack you fed him before we left, it’ll be at least another week before you feed him again.”

“Ah so… definitely not a dog then…”

“M-maybe you could bring him here?” Jack looked up at him hopefully.

Castiel blinked it was his turn to look confused, “Jack I don’t think they let pets in the hospital.”

“I… I’ve got school tomorrow…” Jack muttered conversation changing mid-stride looking unfocused past Castiel, “we… we have to go back.”

“Jack, you’re in the hospital I think they’ll understand,” Castiel shot the medical student a worried look.

“He’s um… they have him on morphine for the arm, he might be a little… confused?” Kevin explained looking a little unsure himself.

“Mr. Edlund hates me…” Jack muttered trying to push himself weakly up in bed, “he’ll fail me.”

Castiel sighed, placing a hand on his chest, “well then it’s good that I work at your school, I’ll just have to talk Chuck out of that okay?”

Jack seemed appeased by that and relaxed back against his pillows.

“I actually needed to ask Jack a few questions for the form,” Kevin said after a moment awkwardly clicking his pen.

Sam’s eyebrow rose, Castiel shot Kevin a look.

Kevin cleared his throat suddenly studying his clipboard like it held the secrets of the universe, “Um have you recently taken any drugs, Jack?”

Jack hunched up defensively giving Kevin a suspicious look, “Yes… but you gave them to me…”

“Okay,” Castiel broke in aggravated, “maybe now… isn’t the best time for that?”

“P-please don’t,” Jack cleared his throat, “call the c-cops…” he took a shaky breath and launched into another fit of coughing.

Castiel gently patted the boy's back as he curled in on himself coughing into his hands Castiel’s expression quickly turning to one of alarm as the coughing was broken up by almost choking gasps.

“Sh-should we call someone?” Sam asked nervousness sinking into his stomach. Kevin opened his mouth unsure.

It took a minute for the coughing to gradually ease, Jack’s face red and eyes watering as he shakily regained his breath…

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked, the hand not on Jack’s back gripping the bed rail like a lifeline.

Jack was squinting befuddled into his hand, “I… I think I coughed up a lung…” he mumbled before raising his hand for all to see, “look…”

The medical student turned dead white fumbling around for the call button.

Jack’s palm was coated in blood.

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 17)

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 – Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

Length: ~5000 words

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/13715520/chapters/43355552

The brightly pink futuristic communicator probably wasn’t controlled by a sapient artificial intelligence or captured fairy, despite Stanley’s disingenuous claims to the contrary. It did, however, seem to involve a magical force field that created buttons based on the symbols that appeared on the screen. The screen – which, unlike any TV or computer screen Stanford had ever laid his eyes on, didn’t seem to have any raster whatsoever. Or any CRT depth requirements.

There were also purple kittens and little hearts everywhere.

It was mesmerizing, but also vexing. He had more of an idea how the alien drones worked than this thing. Perhaps Fiddleford would—no. He shut that thought down.

Stanley was no help either – his reaction to Ford’s wide-eyed quizzical stare was an amused smile and a shrug. “Beats me,” he said. “I could make something up about it if ya like.”

“No, thank you.” Ford sighed and handed the device back to his brother.

His old brother. Because this was the future. His old twin brother, whom, as it happened, he didn’t actually resent. Maybe he’d only ever wanted to resent him, as if that would make their estrangement easier to bear. Stanley was far from the only one with a tendency to make bad life choices.

Maybe Bill wouldn’t be able to destroy the world. Maybe Bill wouldn’t even be able to kill him. Perhaps Stanford Pines was stuck in the future and there was nothing about that he could understand.

It was too much – right now it was just too much. He’d figure it all out later.

If the sealed briefcase containing the rift bought him enough time.

Another deep sigh and he forced himself to his feet, one hand on the pillar for support. “I’m well enough to walk,” he told Stanley. “Let’s go home.”

 * * *

 Stan groaned involuntarily when he got back to his feet, the throbbing headache in the back of his head returning with some revenge for being ignored for so long, but he didn’t care. He still felt kinda drunk on the sort of relief that nerdy types like Poindexter here would probably call by some fancy name in Latin.

Ford didn’t hate him. Ford forgave him.

Ford was alive, the demon had scuttered off to wherever demons go, and Stan felt like there had been a weight around his neck that he’d been so used to carrying around that he’d hardly even noticed it until it was gone. Or at least it was eased to the point that he felt lightheaded. There might be a bit of a smile on his face that he just couldn’t get rid of, so nevermind if his head hurt a bit.

He kept close to his brother, ready to support him if he’d need it, but he seemed to be steady enough. The tranquilizer thing was probably wearing off completely as they walked. He barely seemed any worse off that he’d been this morning – not saying a lot, sure, except that that demon had been an outrageous liar.

And – praise the ancient alien overlords – Ford set a slow pace, hopefully actually thinking about conserving his strength for once.

It felt surreal that this whole thing had happened in a spaceship. The reflections from the flashlight in in Ford’s hand created moving, unreal shapes on the walls, blurring in and out of focus as his thoughts drifted. Stan hated those aliens. Buncha jerks, trying to arrest people for what? Post-mortem trespassing? Or would that would count as graverobbing? Nah, could hardly be robbing if you didn’t steal anything. Well. Didn’t steal much. This time.

It took a few moments before he noticed that Ford wasn’t at his side anymore, but a few steps ahead. Dammit, he was supposed to make sure his brother didn’t overexert himself before he was properly recovered. “Hey.”

Stanford stopped and turned around. “Stanley?”

“Don’t run off.”

“I wasn’t—” Ford paused. “I wasn’t running,” he repeated with a slight frown. “In fact, I was walking slower than I could have.” He raised his arms and flexed the fingers on his left hand to demonstrate. “The effect of the sedative has worn off almost completely.”

Stan scoffed at that. “Yeah, well, you’re still weak, and also hurt. So take it easy.”

Ford pulled his coat tighter around himself and gave Stan a strange look while he caught up. Hardly the wild-eyed paranoid stare of last night over tacos, but still suspicious.

“Stanley,” he said eventually. “There’s blood on your head.”

Stan reflexively put up a hand to the offending spot. The bump he’d gotten from crashlanding in that bubble prison thing protested the touch with another sting of pain, and Ford was right, there might be a bit of crusted blood in his hair. Crap.

“So I might be a tiny bit concussed,” he blurted. “No big deal, just a little headache. I’ve been through a lot worse in the boxing ring.”

Ford looked at him.

Stan looked back.

“That’s—”

“I’m not—”

Stan broke first. He burst out laughing. He’d all but forgotten about that head injury in his worry about Ford – and it really wasn’t a big deal, he knew what a serious concussion felt like, but yes, it was slowing him down – and now Ford was worrying about him. It was—it was stupid, and also, somehow, hilarious.

Ford cracked a smile, then finally chuckled drily, shoulders shaking. After a long moment where neither of them could get a word out, Ford finally pulled himself together. “Have I ever told you that you’re a knucklehead?”

“Careful, Poindexter,” Stan said, wiping his eyes with one hand and rubbing the bump on his head with the other. “You could almost start to think we’re related.”

“That would be a disaster.”

“You’re right about that one.” It was so easy. They were together again, after everything. Something in Stan’s stomach clenched, like he still couldn’t believe this was real, he’d done it and Ford was going to be okay. “I guess I could take a painkiller,” he added, putting the bad down. “Water would be nice, but we don’t have any left.”

Ford blinked. “What happened to it?”

“Used it up for—” Stan nodded towards what was under Ford’s shirt.

Ford’s expression closed up for a moment. “Ah.”

Stan found a pill in the rapidly emptying first-aid kit, swallowing it dry and hoping it would help. He offered a second pill to Ford, who took it after some hesitation.

Before he could pick up the bag, Ford grabbed the strap. “I’ll carry the bag the rest of the way,” he announced.

Stan put his hands over Ford’s and stopped him. “I have a bump and a headache – I’m not dying.”

“Neither am I, and you’ve been carrying it all day.”

Stan huffed. “You mean other than the hours I spent waiting for your unconscious butt to come back to the land of the living?”

“Yes. That—”

“Forget about it,” Stan said, taking the bag from Ford. “I’m still in better shape than you are.”

Ford threw his hands up with a frustrated grimace. “I was just trying to—”

“It’s not that heavy,” Stan said, pulling the strap over his shoulder. “But thanks for the offer, I guess?”

Ford’s shoulders slumped slightly. “You’re sixty, you have a concussion, and you’re still in better shape than me.” He folded his arms over his chest, clenching his fingers in the fabric of his coat.

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna recover and get as strong as you like, and I’m only gonna get older, so don’t be too jealous.” Stan grimaced and patted Ford on the back, earning him a slight twitch and then a sigh. “Come on, Sixer. Let’s get out of here.”

 Of course, the problem with that plan was that ‘out’ also meant ‘up’. Stan didn’t say anything when they reached the first ladder – the one in the elevator shaft – but he stopped and gave a low whistle. He might have misremembered just how far down they had climbed, but better to be impressed than intimidated. He could do it – going up couldn’t be any worse than going down, a little bruising never stopped him before, and he was over his fear of heights anyway. But Ford had strained himself just walking too fast through the forest this morning, and being shot, possessed, and then unconscious for a few hours wasn’t the kinda thing that made people stronger. Maybe they should try to—

Ford was already squaring his shoulders, starting the climb before Stan had finished the thought. To be sure, it wasn’t like he could think of any realistic alternative, so Stan followed and hoped for the best. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with.

It wasn’t fun. It didn’t take long for Ford’s breathing to become audibly labored above him, and Stan could feel the strain in his own legs. At one point he accidentally looked down, and he wasn’t sure if that’s what triggered the nausea or if the concussion had something to do with it, but he hated the whole situation with a passion. His headache only grew worse and his fingers cramped around the rungs, eyes staring at the wall inches from his face.

His head bumped into something.

Seconds later, when Stan’s heartbeat and the throbbing in his head had both calmed down to the point where he could hear himself think, he realized that it had been Ford’s shoes. Ford had stopped right above him and wasn’t moving.

“Sixer?” Stan’s knuckles were white on the rung before his eyes. “You okay?”

“I made a mistake.” Ford’s voice was breathless, trembling with exhaustion.

Stan bit back an angry retort. He kind of felt like this climb was a mistake himself, but if Ford felt that way—He wouldn’t admit that if it wasn’t bad. Stan’s shoulders cramped even tighter than they had been. “Right,” was all he said.

Ford said nothing for several moments.

“You’re not allowed to fall,” Stan managed. He wouldn’t be able to catch him. More like they’d both be done for.

Maybe that would serve them right, but it didn’t make him feel any less sick.

“I don’t intend to,” Ford said. “I just—just need to rest for a bit.”

Stan stared at his own hands, for a moment completely unable to get his eyes to focus. “Sure. I can wait.” He sure couldn’t help. He could barely help himself, hanging above a void that would crush both of them to bloody pulps if they didn’t hold on.

It took the better part of an eternity, but they did finally reach the end of the ladder and the higher level of the spaceship. Ford crumbled against a piece of broken machinery, panting and trembling, and Stan found himself lying on the floor and trying to unclench his cramping hands after all that clinging to flimsy pieces of metal and trying not to fall to a very bloody death. He was mostly unsuccessful.

“You know,” he said hoarsely, “I told Mabel a while ago that ladders cause more deaths than guns. I mean—I made that statistic up, but I’ve decided I believe it.”

“That’s—not very scientific of you.”

“Still not a scientist, Poindexter.”

Ford breathed a quiet chuckle, then stayed silent for a while. Eventually, he said, “Do you remember that time when we went into that condemned office building on Gasoline Street? I think we were thirteen.”

“Yeah.” He could kinda see why Ford would think of that one. “I picked the lock, and you were really disappointed when it was already emptied out.”

“You were disappointed too.”

“Sad but true. No treasure that day.”

“So we decided to go to the top floor—”

Stan groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

They’d went up a rickety old staircase for five or so floors before a section of the support decided that the weight of two stomping boys was too much to bear. A whole section of the stairs had basically crumbled, leaving a gap of ten or fifteen feet right where Stan and Ford had been walking seconds ago. Stan had been in shock and refused to move a muscle for several minutes, though he distinctly remembered Ford snapping his fingers and saying something like “So that’s why the building was condemned!”

Getting back down had been the challenge, that time.

“Besides,” Stan added, “that wasn’t even a ladder.”

“No, it was just a broken staircase. But you hated that, too.”

Stan sighed and rolled over on his back, finally able to uncramp his arms and relax. “Yeah, I hated it.” And despite all that, it was a fond memory.

Ford took a deep breath. “Stanley—” He seemed to be hesitating.

“Yeah?”

“The ladder to the surface is even longer than this one. I might be able to make it if I have to, but—”

Stan hid his face under his hands. “—but that’s a big maybe,” he finished. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath of his own. “But we do have to get up there somehow, unless we wanna go without food and camp here tonight.”

“Not an option,” Ford said sharply.

“Yeah, agreed.” Stan sat up, slowly, supporting his arms on his knees. Maybe he could get Soos to— “—wait, what did you say?”

“I said there’s an alternative to climbing. And at this point I believe it would be easier on both of us.” He raised a hand slightly, watching it tremble, and sighed. “Relatively, of course, but I’ve done it before.”

Stan would definitely prefer not to bet both of their lives on that Ford could make another climb. He raised an eyebrow. “You saying we fly?”

“Correct.” Ford smiled slightly.

“Hate to break it to ya, Sixer, but we’re still people, not birds.”

“Well,” Ford said, patting down his trenchcoat like he was double-checking something. “I assume you still have the second magnet gun?”

“It’s in the bag.” A heartbeat. “Oh.”

Yeah, that thing Ford had done when he came after the prison bubble Stan was pretty much flying, wasn’t it? Not like either of them had been in a state to look for that gun afterwards, either, and he half expected Ford to blame him for it being lost.

“Good,” was all Ford said. “We’ll use that to pull ourselves up.”

Stan was totally comfortable with that. Not the slightest bit worried that it might be like falling upwards and splattering yourself against a distant ceiling instead of a distant floor.

Ford rubbed his arm and continued. “It’s not overly difficult. The critical part is to aim it right, and then to brace properly for impact.” He gestured vaguely for emphasis. “And of course, not to lose your grip on the gun.”

“So...” Stan tried to work around his gut feeling that said nope and think of what it actually meant. “Sounds like it takes a bit of strength.” Also like there’d be no second chances if you failed. “If you’re not strong enough to climb, are you sure ya—”

“Strength and stamina are different things,” Ford said in that familiarly annoying way that he’d always used to point out people’s small errors. “But,” he relented, “I admit I’m low on both.” He met Stan’s eyes for a moment. “Which is why I believe—I hope that we can do it together.”

 It was somewhat terrifying, but in the end, Stan had to agree that climbing at this point wouldn’t be any less life-threatening, it would just drag it out for longer. And there was only one magnet gun, and like hell he would let Ford do it alone when even Ford himself admitted he might not make it.

Besides, Ford’s determination to do this thing was actually contagious. It would be a lot less grueling than another climb, and it would definitely get them up faster than any other possible plan.

Ford had to be the one to aim since he had some experience with doing this, but Stan was stronger, so he’d hold the gun’s handle, with Ford using his free hand to point it right. Ford’s right arm went over Stan’s shoulders and Stan used his left to hold onto Ford around the waist, trying but probably not succeeding in avoiding at least the alien blaster wound if not the infected cuts. Ford didn’t complain, though.

Stan might be clinging a little too hard as they raised the magnet gun.

“There,” Ford said, keeping Stan’s hand somewhat steady.

Stan pressed the trigger. He had exactly enough time to realize that he now knew what it felt like to be a bullet before they both slammed into the wall right below the ceiling and Stan’s headache jolted into a minor explosion that made him regret every single decision that took him to this point. That only lasted for the fraction of a moment it took before he realized that they were an absolutely ridiculous distance from the floor and that Ford’s full weight together with his own was too much for one sweaty hand on the handle of a science gizmo to hold up. Any other thought was replaced by a panicked scramble for foothold to support them.

Ford had aimed true. The ladder rungs were right there.

A second later Ford’s feet had found the ladder as well, and Stan could breathe again. Nevermind that they were packed together on the same part of the ladder, hanging right below the where the wall met the ceiling and the ladder entered the narrower chute – way too high to think about, and still a bit to go before the safety above.

“Whoa,” was all he could say.

“That’s—accurate.”

“You okay?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Never better.”

“There seem to be—” Ford looked up. “Six rungs to go to get us up into the shaft.”

“And then we’ll zap to the top.”

Ford nodded seriously.

“This is gonna be awkward,” Stan muttered. Of course, that might have been a feature. The fact that it was awkward did distract a bit from the fact that it was dizzyingly high. And it was only six steps. Somehow they climbed them without losing track of either the ladder, the magnet gun or each other. Ford’s eyes were half-closed, focused on the task, and Stan could feel his own muscles stiffening again, but it just a little bit.

Once they were inside the chute it might not actually be safer, but it sure felt that way. Between the two of them and the duffelbag sitting on Stan’s back, it was cramped enough to almost seem snug.

Ford leaned his forehead against the wall for a moment while Stan looked up. The square of summer sky above was a warm blue, and not that far away now.

“I’m ready to get out of this dump,” he said and gave Ford a tired smile.

“It’s not a dump,” Ford said. “It’s a wreck.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But—Good.” Ford wrapped one arm around Stan’s back again, supporting himself partly on the chute wall and readying the magnet gun. “I’m ready to get out, too.”

The second jump felt less violent – maybe because it was shorter, or maybe the cramped space made them go slower, but in any case it didn’t hurt much at all. Stan pulled himself up onto the ground, then turned to give Ford a hand.

They both stumbled several steps away from the hole before promptly sitting down on the grass next to each other. Stan found himself chuckling softly. “There we go,” he said. “Ain’t no stopping the Pines.”

“Heh,” Ford said, then fell silent. He seemed to want to say something more, but it didn’t come out, so he closed his mouth again.

The silence was companionable, and Stan didn’t mind. The afternoon sunshine felt nice on his bare arms, even if it did outline a couple of new bruises very clearly.

“The rift is sealed,” Ford said eventually. “You’d need power tools to break it now.” He almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Yeah,” Stan agreed.

“Bill is going to be enraged.”

“Meh. What can he do about it?”

“I don’t know.” Ford shuddered, looking at his hands in his lap. “No doubt we’re going to find out.”

Stan shrugged it off. “You know,” he said, “We still need to get back home before we can eat.”

“Eat?” Ford blinked like he had forgotten that food was a thing. “Right. Yes.”

 Ford insisted on covering up the entrance to the UFO again before they could leave, and once they were off, it was slower going than it had been in the morning. It was one thing to hike when you had slept and eaten and your stupid genius of a young twin brother was insisting that he was fine and even enjoying himself – but a bit different when you were tired and hungry and Ford’s face was carefully neutral even when he stopped again and again to lean against a tree, glaring warily at the eye-like marks on the birches and ashes.

Neither of them noticed that they were no longer alone until someone cleared their throat.

Stan practically jumped, and he could feel more than see Ford’s head whip to the side in a movement mirroring his own. A burly, bearded, red-haired man in a flannel shirt stared at the from between a few ashen trees.

“Stanford Pines!”

“Yeah, what’s—” Stan started, while Ford spoke at the exact same time, “Yes, I—”

Stan and Ford glanced at each other, then back at the lumberjack. Stan suppressed a groan.

“Is that—Boyish Dan Corduroy?” Ford whispered. He was tense, but there was some incredulousness in his voice, too.

“Don’t call him ‘boyish’ unless you want an axe through your head,” Stan mumbled back. “But yeah.” Not the most unlikely person to run into in the woods, but it still took some bad luck to cross paths with anyone out here. He’d hoped to put off explaining Ford’s presence to the townspeople at least until after he’d talked about it with Ford, which he’d been putting off because there were bigger fish in the barrel. Like demonic possession and rifts in reality. Right now, Stan’s headache was still going strong in the back of his head, and Ford was staring at the man like he half expected him to turn into a monster any second. Not the best of moments for introductions.

Without warning, Dan raised two overly muscular arms and roared. “I’m a prophet!”

Ford took two steps backwards, but Stan reflexively put a hand on his arm, stopping him from bolting. Turning his attention to Dan, Stan sighed theatrically and crossed his arms. “You’re a what now.”

“A prophet.” Dan grinned with a lot of teeth. “There was two of you in my dream, and now here you are!”

“That’s great,” Stan said, “But there’s still only one of me.” He flicked his head at Ford. “He’s my nephew.” The lie was natural, easy, but something inside his chest still ached when he didn’t say brother.

Ford twitched. His hands were hidden behind his back, and he still looked ready to run. “Ah,” he said. “Yes. Nephew.”

“I see.” Dan held out his hand, and Ford predictably refused to take it. Stan had started to realize that was a pattern with him now. Defusing it before Dan would take offence, Stan gestured smoothly at Ford and Dan. “Dan Corduroy – this is Stanford Pines. The younger,” he added with a small grin that he really didn’t feel. “Ford – this is Manly Dan Corduroy.”

“Nice to meetcha. I see your family has no imagination for names.”

“They really don’t,” Ford said weakly. “Just call me Ford.”

“So you’re the dad of those runts running around in the Mystery Shack this year?”

“What? No, I’m—”

“Different nephew,” Stan said. “Son of a different brother, too. You know how it is with family – one moment there’s none, and the next they’re crawling out of the woodwork.”

Dan laughed. “I sure do! Well—” He started to turn as if to leave, but then he stopped. “Hey, Junior.” He glanced at the hole in the side of Ford’s coat, and the bandages barely visible underneath. “You get bit by something? If there’s a critter out there attacking people, I need to know so I can wrestle it.”

“No! No, that’s fine. It’s not that bad.” Ford shook his head, but Dan had already turned to stare at Stan’s bump and the dried blood.

He punched his hand with a fist. “Alright, accidents happen and it’s no other man’s business to ask about it, but you two ain’t gonna drive yourselves home looking like that. You’re coming with me, Pines.”

Ford glanced at Stan, wide-eyed and looking very uncomfortable. “Come on, we might as well,” Stan muttered, pulling at Ford’s elbow to follow Dan. “I’d rather get a free ride than stand around arguing.”

Dan seemed to be leading them a slightly different path than they’d been taking. Ford hesitated, but Stan pulled him along.

“Are you sure it’s—” Ford’s mumble was barely audible.

“Safe?”

“He’s not possessed, but—”

“He’s Dan flipping Corduroy. Not his style to consort with demons. You knew him, didn’t ya?”

“A bit. But he was younger then.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look. If he wanted to hurt us, he’d do it right here, not go back to the road first.” He got where Ford’s paranoia was coming from, sure, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.

“What’re ya mumbling about?” Dan interrupted. “Speak up like a man, Stanford!”

Stan snorted. “I was just telling Ford that sometimes people in a small town help each other out.” He gave Dan a meaningful look. “Cause I’m not gonna pay ya for this.”

Ford flinched like he thought Stan was poking a dragon, but Dan just rubbed his beard. “Wouldn’t dream of charging. Still want that free pizza, though!”

“Eh. It might happen someday.” Stan turned to Ford. “See?” To Dan, he added, “He’s from New Jersey.”

Dan laughed. “Welcome to Gravity Falls, then!”

 Dan’s old Jeep was parked at a tiny unpaved road that Stan hadn’t even been aware of, actually closer than where he’d left the Stanleymobile. Ford got into the front passenger seat with some clear reluctance, but Stan figured there was no helping that. It was just a short ride, and as far as Stan was concerned, not having to drive was a luxury. He climbed into the back seat and rubbed the bump on his head while Dan started up the car.

“Y’know,” Dan said, looking sideways at Ford. “The more I look at ya, the more ya give me a bad case of déjà vu.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I think your uncle even used to wear that same kinda coat way back before he even started doing the Mystery Shack business. Isn’t that right, Pines?”

“Could be.” Stan tried to be noncommittal. He didn’t like that topic of conversation, not for his own sake and even less for Ford’s.

“Wish I had some picture of him back then. Would be something to compare!”

“Yes,” Ford said steely. “We do look a lot alike.”

It was a relief when Dan just grunted and stopped talking for a while, not least because Dan’s voice was on the loud side of roaring, which didn’t help Stan’s headache any. Also because he was not up to explaining a highly incriminating backstory or bullshitting a family background that Ford might or might not take offence at. Not if he didn’t have to.

Ford drummed his fingers on the car window, then stopped with a cringe and hid his hand in his pocket again. It reminded Stan of how he’d acted back when he’d found himself among strangers when they were kids. Being worried about his hands couldn’t help his paranoia any, and Stan wished he’d stop, but he wasn’t going to bring attention to it right in front of Dan, either.

They were turning on the intersection of Gopher Road when Ford spoke up. “You said you had a dream about two Stanford Pineses. What kind of a dream?”

“Funny thing!” Dan replied, his voice filling the car again. “I was having a nap, and then I started feeling like someone was watching me. So I looked up, and I saw old Mister Mystery here. Except there were two of him. And it could be that they were both a bit younger, but I’m not sure. Anyway, then I guess I went up to ‘em and beat them up.” He laughed at that, but Stan started to listen more carefully. Maybe Ford shouldn’t have asked that question.

Dan rubbed his beard with a wry grin. “That’s the weirdest part. In the dream, it seemed like a good idea to rob you and run off with the bag you were carrying.”

Stan made himself laugh. “That’s hilarious,” he said, completely aware that Ford was stiffening in the seat in front of him.

“And then I looked up at the sky,” Dan continued, “And instead of the sun there was a big yellow triangle with an eyeball in the middle, like—”

Ford threw the passenger side door open, making Dan screech the car to a halt.

“What the hell, Junior!?”

“You’re going to let us off, now,” Ford intoned.

“We’ve got 200 yards to the Mystery Shack,” Dan said, confused, but Ford was already scrambling out of the car, pulling open the door next to Stan.

Stan wouldn’t have minded riding the last 200 yards as well, but that wasn’t an option anymore. Dammit, but Ford was in a panic and if there was actually some reason for it it would have been a lot safer to just not let it on, but it was too late for that. He scooped up the bag and got down to Ford, who ripped the bag from him and went off into the forest before Stan could even turn back to the puzzled lumberjack.

“Sorry,” he said, “But I guess my br—my nephew wants to walk the rest of the way. We’ll be fine, thanks for the ride.”

Dan frowned. “What’s in that bag?”

“A well-used first aid kit,” Stan said with a grimace as if the whole thing confused him too, then glanced after Ford. “I’m gonna go see to him. See ya later.”

[whiskynottea]

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

AO3

@theministerskat, once more, thank you love, for beta-ing this story! ❤️

Chapter 39. The Exams

Biology.

Cell structure and genetics, homeostasis and synaptic neurotransmission. My first exam, just a week after Jamie’s birthday. A week after that perfect evening; the last time I removed school completely from my thoughts, free of the impending challenge of the exams that would shape my life.

Murtagh had disappeared after we cut the cake – supposedly to leave us alone, although we knew exactly where he was going – and the four of us had decided to make popcorn and watch old Disney movies, to keep the child in Jamie alive.

As if he wasn’t a child already, blowing out his candles with such wonder and fervor, as if a whole new world had opened in front of him.

Ian had declared that one of the movies we had to watch was Finding Nemo, since it had become our party’s unofficial theme. Jenny and I picked Hercules, already giggling over the lines of Hades and the Muses’ songs. Perched on the two couches of the living room – Jamie had stated we were to have the largest one because it was his birthday – we’d sang, laughed, and recited almost all the dialogue of each movie. When Murtagh had come back – whistling a happy tune that made the smiles on our faces broader – I’d given Jamie the longest goodnight kiss in the history of the world and went to sleep in Jenny’s room. After approximately two hours of talking and giggling, Jenny and I had eventually fallen asleep, smiling, celebrating our victory over Jamie’s grief, with his full, belly laughs still echoing in our ears.

When I left their apartment the next morning, I tried to memorize the feel of Jamie’s arms around my body, the softness of his lips, warm and inviting on mine.

We saw each other much less over the following month, and even though we had both agreed that this was the best strategy to follow, it still seemed like the stupidest idea we’d ever had. But we had a goal and we had to achieve it.

Not that many miles south of Edinburgh, lay our future.

Oxford.

Every time I was ready to give in and call Jamie to meet me for a walk, I refocused my mind on that single word, imagining us both strolling around in that fairytale city, hands linked, feet feeling the uneven cobblestones under our shoes. My life was already divided into the pre- and post-Oxford era, and that was enough motivation to make my eyes and my thoughts return to the notes laid out on my desk.

I just had to excel in my exams.

I had been planning, studying, and preparing for more than a year, and it felt surreal that the time of the exams had finally come. I was trying to remain calm, to remind myself that I was ready, that I had done the best I could. It was the truth, after all. Since the beginning of the year I had gone over the content of my subjects more times than I could count. I had even organized my time during the exams; what questions I’d approach first, what I’d leave for the end.

But I knew that my textbooks wouldn’t be enough this time. There was always something more to learn, some new information I could fit in with the knowledge I already acquired. Something that would make a difference, that would demonstrate how hard I had worked, how serious I was about my choice.

When I’d read everything I thought would be relevant, I started watching YouTube videos and reading scientific papers. It was then that Lamb started teasing me, saying if I’d continue like I was I could just skip going to medical school altogether.

Lamb, who kept saying it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I failed my exams, that life always offers new possibilities, some of which I probably never fathomed beforehand.

I couldn’t even listen to him talking about failure, about a future different from what I’d dreamed of. I wouldn’t let that happen.

But… What if I had missed something important? What if I hadn’t paid attention to a significant detail?

“Will ye stop before ye go completely crazy, Sassenach?” Jamie asked me when I voiced my thoughts. “Ye ken everything! Ye’ll do great tomorrow!”

I sighed dramatically and he pressed me tight against his body with a strong arm around my shoulders. I pulled his face down towards me for a kiss, to drink in some of his optimism, to feel the auburn locks cold between my fingers and his lips warm on mine. He had come straight from the swimming pool and had almost dragged me out of my house to prevent me from going through the previous years’ exams one last time.

“Just for a wee walk, Sassenach,” he’d said. “To decompress before the big day.”

It was impossible to say no to Jamie, so I’d tried to silence the little voices in my head, crying that I should stay at home and study, instead of walking around Edinburgh the night before the exams.

“Ye wee nerd,” Jamie said, when I told him I felt bad for going out. I huffed and I nudged him on the ribs, pulling away from him.

“I’m not a nerd!” I protested, in a voice that was more high-pitched than I’d have liked.

He kept silent but raised an eyebrow, while I could plainly see the corner of his mouth curling up in a suggestive smile.

“I’m not!” I repeated, and then crossed my hands across the front of my chest, pouting. Seeing that he still hadn’t said a word, I relented. “Okay, maybe just a bit.”

That made him chuckle. “Come here, my nerd,” he said, curling his index finger repeatedly in a come hither way, broadly grinning.

“Your nerd…” I murmured, thinking, but didn’t move towards him. “So that makes you my jock?”

“I’m not a jock!” he said in a nasal voice, and I could hardly contain my giggle. Following his lead though, I just shrugged and looked at him. “We’re not playing in a rom-com,” he continued, defiant. “First of all, you weren’t secretly in love with me from the beginning.”

I wanted to cackle, but I did my best for a serious voice instead. “No, I wasn’t.” It was a lost battle, trying to keep a straight face, and I knew it, but continued nonetheless. “I could never fall in love with you, the swoon-worthy swimmer... All muscle and no brain… No, not a chance.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips, as if deciding what was the best way to take revenge. “Like that, is it, Sassenach?”

“Mmm, you were sae repulsive, ye ken.” I tried my best to mimic his accent and burst out laughing.

“Ye’re dead, Sassenach,” he said and came towards me with long strides. I ran. He ran, too, and I hadn’t even reached the next block when he caught up with me, capturing me in his arms.

I was dead. I was sure my heart would stop beating at any moment, overwhelmed by a euphoric feeling that made happiness seem trivial.

“You do know I wanted you from the very beginning,” I whispered to him, my breath brushing against his lips. “Jock.”

“And I, you,” he said, his voice utterly sweet, and swallowed my sigh with his kiss. “Nerd.”

--

The next day I sprang out of bed listening to my alarm clock, with blurry images of cell membranes still fogging my thoughts. I had dreamed of the exams, again.

I took a deep breath and checked my phone, finding a text from Jamie.

Scot: Show them how it’s done, Sassenach.

Scot: ILY ❤️❤️

He had set his alarm clock just to text me.

Sassenach: ILY TOO! 😘

I couldn’t imagine a better way to start my day.

An hour and a half later, I was at school, sitting at my desk, waiting for the paper. The moments before we were handed the exams were the worst. I had quickly found that looking around while waiting was the worst thing to do, so I focused on my desk instead, feeling the smooth surface beneath my fingertips. I fidgeted with one of my two pens, swirling it around and running my nail over the carved letters, to hear the reassuring scratching sound of their resistance. Not having much more to do, I took deep breaths, waiting.

The room was quiet, but there was a tension hanging low over our heads, filled with dreams and opportunities, stress and hope. It felt so heavy and real, that I was afraid I would accidentally breathe it in and it would close my throat, linger in my trachea, to end up in my lungs and keep the oxygen out. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, and we could almost capture it between our fingers. The same fingers that minutes later, gripped the pens and started writing.

The moment the paper was in front of me everything around me disappeared. It was me versus myself – my favorite competition. My brain was on the verge of being burned with overthinking, my hand hurt from holding the pen too tight, but I continued to write the answers. I knew them all.

I almost danced in the middle of the street when I met Jamie later, success making me deliriously happy. Jamie had one more week before his English exam, which was his favorite subject, and the only one he wouldn’t need in his application for a business management bachelor’s degree. He wasn’t anxious at all, the bloody Scot, and I couldn’t understand how he did it.

Not anxious about the exams, that is. Because every day I watched him become more and more worried about the Scottish National Championship. It seemed absurd to me that he would care that much about swimming, right in the middle of the exams. Especially after all our work, to make his grades in math descent again. “You do realize that you have to finish the exams first, right? That we have more than two months until you’ll swim at the Nationals?”

“Aye, Sassenach. I do.” His voice was rigid, and it made me feel like a mother scolding her child. “Ye dinna trust me now?” he asked, and I kept silent, guilty, because the thought that he overestimated his preparation for the exams had crossed my mind more than once. Jamie exhaled loudly and took my face in his hands. “Claire,” he said, “I do study and I will get the grades I need. I’m no’ a fool.”

His eyes were so serious and sincere that I couldn’t but nod in agreement. Jamie kissed my forehead and pulled me in for a tight hug. “Tis just…” he started, but trailed off.

“What?” I mumbled, and nuzzled against his neck, breathing him.

“I think it’s more difficult to win the National Championship than it is to write an A+ in math and business management. My personal best needs so much improvement.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with the statement, but I decided to trust him. “I know you’ll make it,” I said, and kissed the hollow between his clavicles, that little part of him I had declared mine, months ago.

--

It’s sometimes difficult to realize, incomprehensible almost, how things you’ve been waiting for so long come to pass, like fast breaths taken after a long run. And the air I breathed in, leaving the testing hall for the last time, had the taste of accomplishment.

Math was our last exam. When I saw Jamie waiting for me with his red curls falling over his forehead totally disheveled from all the times he ran his hands through them, my heart stopped. But then I saw the huge smile on his face, and it told me everything I needed to know.

We had more than a month before the results would be announced, but we had done well. We had made it.

Oxford was waiting for us.

I walked towards him, grinning, and I felt like flowing above the shiny floor, my feet inches away from the surface.The moment I came to stand in front of him, Jamie hugged me tight, lifted me up in the air, and asked me if I would be his date at the prom.

“We’re going to the prom?” I asked, uncertain.This was the last thing I expected to hear at that moment.

“Aye! Of course we are! So, will ye be my date, Sassenach?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, teasing him. “This is really on short notice, and I might have plans for that night.”

Jamie shook his head, lowered me to the ground and bent his head to kiss me. “Cancel yer plans, mo ghraidh. Ye’ll be all mine that night.”

Chapter 40

[seriouslyhooked]

Scoring Your Love (Part 16/18)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven,Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen. Story also on FF here and AO3 here. Banner by the wonderful @timetravelandfairytales

Modern AU where Killian is a world famous soccer star who has hit rock bottom and been sentenced to the place where ‘football’ legends go to die – America. While here he crosses paths with Emma, an up and coming musician and film scorer who challenges everything he thought he knew and makes him want more than the game he’s always loved. Will be filled with fluff for days. Rated M.

A/N: Hey all! This chapter is a bit longer than last time (because I couldn’t seem to stop writing), but I hope you will enjoy it all the same. It’s bringing more closure and CS cuteness so I imagine you’ll all be okay with it. Anyway thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

“If you’re just joining us, the lead story in the country and around the world tonight is that media mogul Robert Gold has been taken into custody after a court in the district of Los Angeles moved to indict. Gold surrendered himself just hours ago and he had been charged with multiple felony charges ranging from extortion to embezzlement.”

It didn’t matter that Killian had told Emma just a few days ago about this next turn of events; it was still surreal to see a man who had tried to ruin their lives actually face justice. The video evidence of Gold’s public shaming was incredible, and it was staggering to see just how far the man had fallen in a matter of hours.

For Killian this was a very happy day, and Emma felt the same way. Maybe it was wrong to smile at another’s misfortune. A better person would have washed their hands of Gold’s crimes and not cared about getting any kind of revenge, but Emma wasn’t like that. She felt vindicated and calmed by the fact that Gold was truly out of the picture and that he’d failed. He wanted to destroy her relationship with Killian – to make Killian miserable and to break both their hearts in the process – but he never succeeded. Instead Emma and Killian were stronger than ever and the two of them got the satisfaction of watching that creep get escorted away from his gaudy estate in cuffs.

“Is it terrible of me to say that I kind of wish there was more to it than this?” Emma asked, pulling Killian’s attention from the screen and back to her.  She sipped her morning coffee before shrugging and explaining what she meant. “I mean I know he’s ruined. Whether or not he stays in prison for life, his company’s been taken over by the board and he’s got virtually nothing compared to what he had before, but…”

“But it would be nice if someone delivered him a swift punch in the face.”

“Exactly!” Emma exclaimed, relieved that he got it even as she looked bashfully down to the counter where her breakfast remained. “I mean I’m not saying violence is always the answer or anything, but the man tried to tear us apart.”

“I don’t think a punishment exists befitting that crime, love. It’s a sin that can never be forgiven,” Killian said. “Even if he never would have been successful.”

In the days since Killian and Emma had their scare, both of them had come to a single conclusion: that even though Emma had withdrawn into herself when the crisis came calling, it would never have lasted. Neither of them could stay away, not even Emma with all her past traumas and fears of being alone. Even if Killian had waited she would still have reached out and chosen him over running. Ultimately the love they both felt for each other was too strong for her to have actually walked away, no matter what the repercussions. Emma was only glad Killian understood that, and that he didn’t harbor any resentments for her actions.

“So have you heard anything?” Emma asked, pushing him in a different direction than Gold’s impending time in jail. This was about the team he used to play for. Now that Gold was gone they must be scrambling to get him back, right? Only complete morons would wait around and hope he just came back on his own.

“Not yet, love. I told you, you’d be the first to know,” Killian vowed, kissing her on the temple before bringing his cup to the sink and washing it out.

“I know,” Emma said dropping the rest of her drink beside his before running her hand along his chest soothingly.

“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not saying?” he asked, his humor apparent even as curiosity got the better of him.

“It’s nothing. This is your business, Killian, and I trust you to make the right calls for you. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“But…?” he said, knowing there was something Emma wanted from him. She caved and came clean.

“It’s just that I don’t think you are happy,” she said. He tried to refute that but she put a finger to his mouth to quiet him. “Okay I know you’re happy, but not in every way. You need to talk to your brother. I know that he hurt you, but I think if you gave him a chance he would make up for it.”

Killian’s hands tightened slightly where they were on her hips and the newfound rigidity of his posture spoke volumes. Truth was Killian was furious at Liam. He had admitted as much to Emma when he told her of Liam’s visit. Killian didn’t go too into detail, but Emma had her suspicions. It would take a lot to rile Killian to this level, and in order to do it Liam would have had to say some not so flattering things about her.

“I’ve five minutes before I have to leave, love. I don’t really want to spend such precious time talking about Liam.”

With the words out there between them, Killian tried to distract her. He dropped kisses along her neck, tormenting her with the promise of all that this remarkable man could get done in so short a window. Emma felt herself giving in, leaning into the action and it was crazy that he could spark her need for him so soon. All last night (and again this morning) they’d been saying the long good bye before he left for his away game this morning. It shouldn’t be possible to want him this much. She should be completely sexed out by this point, but with Killian the limit of need didn’t seem to exist. She always wanted more, and it was so very hard to turn him down, even in moments like this when she absolutely had to.

“Fine, then we won’t talk about it,” Emma promised as his hands trailed across her body. She felt the trail of arousal that followed his every move and she bit back a groan as he purposefully teased her. “But that doesn’t mean we have time for this either.”

“We’ll make time, Swan. I promise it’ll be worth your while,” he said, his voice dripping in innuendo and igniting her already charged libido.

“Killian, you’re the one with the plane to catch not me. Trust me I’d like a whole lot more than five minutes, but we just don’t have it.”

Killian stopped the teasing, but his hands continued to hold her close. She felt him trying to steady his breathing, as if the very thought of him having to go was painful to him. She could understand his hesitation. This week away for his next game would be the first time they’d said bye since all of the Gold stuff had happened. They’d been lucky that the team had a home game and then a by-week, but their luck had run out. Never the less, Emma knew that they could handle the distance even if it hurt for now. Hard as it was to say goodbye, they were at a new level, one where no obstacles were going to stop them. The love they shared was made of stronger stuff than anything that would try to break it, and what was that old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Well, in their case their hearts might be as fond either way, but the coming together after time spent apart always made for even more fireworks than they were used to.

“Soon enough the season will be over, love, and then there’ll be no getting rid of me.”

Emma smiled, turning around in his arms and kissing him surely, loving the fact that when they broke apart his smile was gone again. She could see in his eyes he was still sorry to be leaving, but he was as certain of her as she was of him and that meant a lot to her.

“You do realize I’ll still have to work, right?”

“Aye, but I was hoping I might be able to tempt you to take a holiday. I’ll take you anywhere you wish, all I ask is a week of just you and me together.”

“Hmm,” Emma said, pretending to consider what was hands down the best offer anyone had sent her way in a damn long while. “How about this – you win the championship this year and I’ll go with you. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said with a huge, cocky grin growing on his handsome face. “Best request the time now off, love. We’ll be making that trip. That cup is as good as mine.”

Emma giggled as Killian pulled her close, going on and on about what an ‘ace player’ he was and how he’d ‘bring it home’ for her. She had to admit she loved this totally self-assured side of him. The swagger was hot, there was no way around it, and knowing that a good man lay underneath those layers made her heart swoon all the more.

“I’ll speak to my brother, Emma,” Killian said seriously, his hand running across her cheek. “Not because he deserves it, but because you wish it.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile at that and she pulled him down by the collar of his jacket to kiss him again.  This perfect man was willing to do anything for her, even if it meant facing things that would no doubt be hard and unpleasant. When they came apart and stayed close with their foreheads touching, she kept her eyes closed, soaking in the scent and the feel of him and knowing it would have to hold her over for the next four days at least.

“I love you, Killian.”

“And I love you, Emma. I’ll be back soon, and I’ll call you when I get there.”

Emma walked him to the door, trying to comfort the pang in her chest with the knowledge that he would never really be gone at all. He was leaving his heart here with her, and soon enough he’d be back again, filling her life with laughter and love and all those other beautiful things she’d grown so fond of.

“Bloody hell, I wish you’d just take me up on my offer and stay while I’m gone. You’ve already got a key. It would make me happy to know you’re here and safe.”

“Oh believe me, I’m plenty safe in my apartment. Ruby’s got moves you couldn’t even imagine,” Emma quipped.

“Actually I might,” Killian said with a deep chuckle as he pressed one last kiss upon her lips. “Just think about it, Swan. You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

“I do. Now, seriously get going or I will call Tiny up here to drag you away.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said with a last salute that made her laugh more than she should as he walked out the door and headed off to his responsibilities. God he was corny, but she couldn’t seem to stop loving him anyway.

Once the door was closed behind him, Emma locked up again and then turned back around to take in his place. She might not be planning to sleep here alone, but Emma had a free day ahead of her before meeting with her friends tonight. She had all sorts of ideas of how to laze the day a way in Killian’s swanky apartment. He had a huge TV, a fully stocked kitchen, and a bathtub any sane person would kill for. Seriously, it was obscenely perfect and she figured if she had to face the hardship of her boyfriend being gone yet again, she might as well get a good soak out of it. But just when had was settled on how to indulge first, she heard the telltale sound of the alarm being shut off and the lock on the front door unbolting.

“Killian?” Emma asked, wondering what could have prompted him to come back. She knew he’d been thorough in his packing before, and now he would most certainly be late. Walking back to the entryway she was shocked to find not Killian, but a man she recognized from photos that were all around this house. It was Liam.

“No, sorry. You’ll have to settle for his brother.”

“So you’re the famous Liam.” Emma responded, putting on a smile she hoped looked more confident than she felt. “I’m Emma.”

“In the interest of honesty I should tell you I knew that already,” Liam said, confusing Emma as he did. That was… nice of him, she guessed, but at the same time it felt like the statement was charged with something other than friendliness.

“Killian’s not here at the moment. He just left to catch the flight to New York.”

“Aye, I know. I was waiting for him to leave.”

“Really, why?” Emma asked, not following. Was he checking up on the place or something?

“Because I wanted to meet the mysterious woman who has my brother all tied up in knots,” Liam answered as he waved his hand towards her direction. “I suppose I could have gone a more traditional route, but I didn’t want Killian playing referee. I have some things I need to ask you, Emma, and I didn’t trust my brother not to fight me on it.”  

“He does tend to get a little over protective,” Emma mused. “But I sense that’s a family trait. Whatever your questions are, you’re clearly here for Killian. You want what’s best for him, and you don’t think I’m it.”

“I don’t know what to think yet,” Liam said before pulling out a chair and motioning that he intended to sit. “Do you mind?”

“Go for it, it’s not my place.”

“But you have a key,” Liam prodded and Emma’s brow furrowed.

“How did you…?” Emma’s question trailed off as she realized she might not like the answer she received.

“I organized Killian’s move here. The manager of the building has been keeping me informed of any changes. A key was made, and you’re here while Killian is gone, therefore I’m left to assume he made the key for you.”

“Did you ever think that you should ask Killian these kinds of questions?” Emma said then, trying to keep composed even though she felt annoyance on Killian’s behalf.

“Yes, but he wouldn’t answer me and it’s my job to know these things.”

“Your job as his manager or as his brother?”

“Both.”

“Right…” Emma said, shaking her head but not wanting to fight with this man over the fact that neither of those roles required going to such lengths. “Well you said you came because you had questions. Might as well ask them.”

“What are your intentions with my brother?” Liam said, pulling no punches as he dove right in.

“My intention is to see where this goes. I love him. He loves me. I’m hoping it’s forever, but it’s still new so I’m trying to manage my expectations.”

“And what about your career?” Liam asked, as if he was checking items off a list instead of bringing up what seemed like a totally irrelevant topic after Emma had just poured her heart out.

“My career?” she parroted, not following.

“Surely you realize being tied to my brother is a boost to you. People will know your name now, you’ll be on their radar, that means more work for you.”

“I was plenty busy before I started dating Killian,” Emma said, not liking the insinuation that she hadn’t hustled for every success she’d gotten so far. “Believe me when I say I’m not in this for the spotlight.”

“But can you handle it? Can you handle his life? Whether you want it or not, Killian’s fame isn’t going anywhere. Not while he’s still playing, and not for a long time thereafter. Things have been quiet while he’s been over here, but that’s not sustainable. If you’re not okay with that, what’s to say you won’t run when things get bad?”

“If you actually talked to your brother you’d know things have already been bad. But I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Gold’s a nasty piece of work,” Liam said, his commiserating tone surprising Emma as he continued on. “Killian was an idiot to provoke him, but that man is something else entirely.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan,” Emma said, wondering if Liam knew about Gold’s currently imploding situation.

“I thought you were working for him,” Liam confessed and the accusation made Emma’s heart seize up. The thought was so repugnant to her she could feel her anger building, but Liam walked back the statement. “But I realized that assumption was incorrect when I gathered more intel. I should have trusted Killian’s instincts in that regard.”

“You talked to Killian?” Emma asked, now totally understanding why he had been avoiding his brother the past few days. She could only imagine how angry that would make him, because there was no way Killian ever would have believed her capable of that.

“I did. Maybe it was wrong of me to do so, but I thought it was best.”

“You were trying to protect him,” Emma acknowledged as Liam nodded.

“I was, but I’m glad he didn’t listen.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, shocked to hear that, especially since the last few minutes had been nothing short of an interrogation.

“Yes. Despite everything Killian seems happier than I can ever remember him being. The reason for that is obvious – you mean the world to him. Much as it might not seem like it, that’s what I’ve always wanted for him. I thought the answer was in football, but it turns out there is more to life than the game after all.”

“Do you miss it?” Emma asked, reflecting on the brief overview Killian had given Emma of Liam’s history with the game. His brother had been playing for years, and even made it to the pros himself, but he was injured badly right around the time that their mother passed away. So instead of getting to be a big star, which Killian believed he would have been, Liam was a behind the scenes actor who lived in the orbit of the game without really playing.

“Sometimes. But I’ve never regretted my decision.”

“I’m sorry?” Emma’s tone was questioning though she didn’t exactly want to pry. “I thought you were injured and that you couldn’t play anymore.”

“I was hurt, yes, but not badly enough that I couldn’t have come back,” Liam admitted, looking at Emma with an expression that told her he hadn’t actually meant to confide in her like this. “Killian doesn’t know that. I never wanted him to know. I didn’t want him to think he was to blame or that I chose him over my own chance.”

“But you did,” Emma said with awe. She might not have gotten of on the best foot with Killian’s brother, but right now she was grateful for him in ways she couldn’t say. Losing his mother had been hard for Killian, but Liam being there as a constant had kept him going. Emma didn’t know what it would have been like if Liam continued playing. With the long times away and the hectic schedule… it would have been harder, that was for sure.

“I’ve been prouder to watch him succeed than I ever would have been at doing it myself. I might love the game, but he’s got a talent God only gives a handful of people. I couldn’t deny him his best chance, and I couldn’t deny the world the chance to see him either.”

“You should tell him,” Emma said, meaning it sincerely. “He’d want to know. You’re his big brother and he loves you.”

“Even when he hates me?” Liam joked and Emma chuckled.

“Even then. That’s how it goes with family, I think.”

“Well, if my brother has any say in it you’ll know all about family soon enough.”

Emma felt herself blush at the words. It was very like Killian to make a statement like that and just pretend it wasn’t a huge shock to the system. Emma wondered if he had learned that from Liam, or it if was another genetic quirk their family had. Either way, she didn’t get the chance to comment on it since the door swung open again and in walked Killian.

“Great news, love. The plane’s been grounded for weather. I’ve a few more hours before…” Killian trailed off as he took in the fact that Liam was here. Emma watched as he went from open and pleasant to immediately on his guard. He moved instinctively to Emma’s side, as if she needed protection before he addressed Liam. “What are you doing here, brother?”

“I came to apologize. To Emma and to you.”

“You did?” Killian asked, his question stilted as he seemed truly shocked. He looked to Emma and she nodded. “But you knew I wouldn’t be here.”

“Aye, I did. Call me a coward if you like, but I wanted a chance to see your girl first. It seemed a better plan to win her favor over before trying to gain yours back.”

“She’s not going anywhere, Liam. So you better be serious in what you’re saying. I love Emma, and I won’t see her mistreated. Not by anyone.”

Emma felt her heart clench in her chest as Killian took her hand in his, squeezing it and sending a wave of love through her that felt so right and so true. She felt her eyes growing misty at his strength and his devotion to her, but he didn’t need to worry. Liam was here for the right reasons, and despite a not so easy start, she knew it would all work out with her and Liam and between the two brothers as well.

“You don’t have to worry. I’ve gotten the missteps out of the way early. No need to make the same mistake twice.”

Emma looked to Killian, finding that he was still hesitant to receive his bother’s attempt at making peace. To keep him from fighting with himself any longer she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered her thoughts on the matter.

“Just listen to what he has to say. I promise it’ll be okay.”

“You can stay, love. I don’t have any secrets. Not from you,” Killian said, loud enough for Liam to hear and Emma chuckled but shook her head.

“No. You two need to do this alone. But I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, Emma left the brothers together, giving them a whole half hour in each other’s company. Since she heard neither yelling nor screaming, she assumed all was well, and by the time she found them again they were all smiles. Good. Emma wanted to see Killian and his brother patch things up. It was the right thing to do, and instinct told her that Liam meant what he said. He would turn a new leaf, and hopefully, now that he saw Killian was happy and doing well on his own, he’d step back a little of that excess control.

“Emma, there you are,” Killian remarked, kissing her softly before pulling her to his side. “I was just telling Liam he should stick around LA for a while. It’s a nice city, once you get past the pomp and the frill.”

“And I told Killian that he likely only feels that way because he’s got a girl. From what I’ve seen so far, there’s smog and a lot of tacky tourists. I think I’m all set.”

“You’re heading back already?” Emma asked, surprised that the repair in their relationship wasn’t enough to keep Liam around.

“Probably for the best. I’ve got a bidding war to run, and it’ll be a bit easier if I’m the same time zone as the one’s making the offers,” Liam said as they moved towards the front door seeing him out.

“Not all of them,” Killian said and Emma noticed the nod between the two brothers before they exchanged a hug. When they parted Liam offered a hand to Emma, and she accepted, knowing they were making up now for their lackluster meeting before.

“Thank you, Emma. I can rest easy now knowing he’s well taken care of. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“You too,” Emma agreed, but as the door swung open and Liam was about to leave, he stopped short. Emma couldn’t see past him but she heard the reason – there was someone in the door wary

“Oh uh, hi - sorry. I think I have the wrong apartment.”

“Elsa?” Emma asked, stepping around Liam’s broad shoulders to see her friend standing there, her cheeks pink and her eyes completely fixated on Killian’s brother. It took longer than it should have for Elsa to look over to Emma, and when she did her blush only grew stronger. Interesting. Very interesting.

“Emma, there you are. I’m sorry to interrupt but -,”

“You didn’t. You’re perfect,” Liam said and now Emma’s mouth just dropped on open. Had he just said that? Mr. Cool Calm and Unaffected? Okay this was just too good.

“Bloody hell,” Killian whispered so only she could hear. “It’s happening. Oh how the mighty fall.”

“Uh, okay, thanks,” Elsa said as her fingers came up to shakily brush a strand of her hair that had fallen out of her braid behind her ear.

“I meant your timing,” Liam claimed, trying to cover his slip of tongue but failing completely. “I’m Liam. Liam Jones.”

“Oh you’re Killian’s brother,” Elsa said brightly, casting her gaze at Emma and Killian. “I’m Elsa, Emma’s friend.”

“Is everything all right, Els?” Emma asked, wanting to know why her friend had shown up here even is she was glad to see her.

“Totally, yeah,” Elsa said, still flustered as she looked back at Liam again before focusing on Emma. “I just finished up those last few movements you wanted done and I thought we should listen together in case there’s anything you want changed. I didn’t mean to interrupt family time. I -,”

“So you’re a musician too?” Liam asked, clearly desperate for any and all information on Elsa he could get and not minding that he had to interrupt her to get it. Killian started chuckling beside her and Emma let her own slip ever so briefly before she filled Liam in.  

“Elsa is a cellist. She’s actually first chair at the LA philharmonic.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Liam said, completely forgetting himself again and Elsa looked shocked but still pleased at the same time.

“You’ve never even heard me play.”

“I don’t have to, love. Some things you just know.” Emma was struck by the fact that Killian had said something very similar to her not too long ago, and she watched as Elsa ate it up, just as Emma had when she was in her shoes. “Anyway, I won’t keep you ladies any longer. Goodbye, Emma.”

“Goodbye, Liam,” she said brightly, knowing Liam barely heard her.

“Until next time, lovely Elsa,” he said to Elsa, and as her friend watched him go with fascination, Liam headed down the hall to the elevator, leaving Emma, Killian, and Elsa watching after him.

“Bye brother,” Killian said, not loud enough for Liam to hear but enough so that Elsa and Emma did. Emma wanted to cave and break down every bit of that with Killian right now, but she gave him a look warning him that they had to wait until Elsa was gone.

“Right. I think I left something on the stove,” Killian said in what was the worst, most transparent excuse ever, but Emma loved him for it. When he was gone she looked back to her friend and shot her a questioning look.

“So that was… something.”

“Yeah,” Elsa replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I think it definitely was.” ...

Post-Note: So there we have it! Another chapter come and gone, and hopefully you guys feel like I’ve wrapped things up with Liam well. I also couldn’t help including a taste of Frozen Jewel (because I truly love that ship so much), and this will set us off into the home stretch of much more fluffy, laid-back story. There is more to come still (probably about two or three more chapters), but the updates will be slow still. I am juggling two multi-chapters and the mixtape all at once so it’s a lot, but not to worry. The rest of the story will come and I hope that when it does you will all enjoy it. Thanks again for reading and have a lovely rest of your day!

[allywrites360]

HTTYD Q&A

1. Which movie is your favorite?

Definitely the second one; although that is subject to change after Friday! Though the first one is amazing, you can’t beat the emotional intensity of the second one. I was brought to tears several times throughout the film, and completely blown away by the voice acting. That’s not even mentioning the amazing animation quality and writing.

2. Who is your favorite dragon rider?

Astrid Hofferson, one hundred percent. I completely love how strong she is, both mentally and physically. She’s such an amazing role model for young girls; and everyone to be honest. I also love her witty sense of humour, and I find her the most relatable out of all the dragon riders.

3. Who is your favorite dragon character?

Okay, unpopular opinion but I don’treallycareaboutthedragonsallthatmuch, Don’t get me wrong; they’re adorable, but I watch it for the plot and amazing characters and bonds. If I had to choose though, probably Hookfang. His relationship with Snotlout is hilarious.

4. Which dragon species os your favorite?

Definitely the deadly nadder. I love sharp class dragons, what with their second line of defence and all. I also think that their bird-like qualities are adorable. They’re fast and agile, though not to the extent that strike class is, yet another reason I like them.

5. Which villain is your favorite?

I don’t know, but if I had to pick probably Dagur. He’s one of the only ones to get a redemption arc, though I would have appreciated some more backstory on him. He seems to me like a lonely kid who lost his way, never truly wanting to be evil. I also like his relationship with Heather; which can be summed up in his line “Well, when you only care about yourself, life is simple. Your actions are clear, consequences... (laughs) Who cares? But when that changes...”. He really did have a change of character when Heather showed up, which I guess makes him more of an anti-hero than a villain.

6. Movies or shows?

Ahhh okay, that’s a tough question. Though Httyd 2 is my favourite piece from this franchise, I have to say shows, simply for the fact of character development within the secondary characters. If you haven’t seen Rtte, I highly recommend watching it. It’s such a surreal experience to witness the characters growth over time, not to mention their bond maturing. It adds a whole new layer of depth to the show, which makes it that much more amazing.

7. RTTE or ROB/DOB?

Definitely Rtte, after season two that is. Rob and Dob tend to have a very two dimensional view of the characters, having them act one way the entire show. They also don’t tend to strengthen the bond between the characters, or develop it in any way. Yes, I do bring up their bond a lot. It’s definitely aimed at a much younger audience, so I view it as something entertaining to watch as a filler, as opposed to something I can emotionally connect with.

8. Which Jónsi credits song was your favorite?

Omg Together From Afar had me in tears! That is the best one by far. “You are the reason to go on livin'” is my favourite part of the song, it really showcases Hiccup’s fears of being without Toothless. Which I’m assuming will be a main plot line of the third film. Like I said, haven’t seen it yet.

9. Which score was your favorite?

To be honest, I’ve only listened to part of the second and third films’ scores. I will say that I absolutely adore the score from the first film, and it basically got me through exam week. It’s obviously the most iconic one, what with ‘This is Berk’ and ‘Forbidden Friendship’. I have to listen to the others before I can say for sure though.

10. Favorite song from the 1st score?

It’s a tie between ‘Romantic Flight’ and ‘Forbidden Friendship’. Yes, I know I picked the two most popular tracks, but you say basic, I say iconic. Romantic Flight is so surreal to me, I can almost see myself in the sky with Hiccup and Astrid when I listen to it, and experience none of the other songs quite achieved. Forbidden Friendship on the other hand completely sums up the movie. It always makes me fall in love with the franchise all over again.

11. Favorite song from the 2nd score?

The only one I can recall is ‘Dragon Racing’, though I may be biased because of how often I watch Rtte.

12. Favorite song from the 3rd score?

So far, the only one I’ve allowed myself to listen to is ‘Together From Afar’, though I have no doubt that John Powell will top all of his other work in this film.

13. Favorite moment from the 1st movie?

You know that moment, right before they battle the Red Death? The one where all of the future dragon riders are together in the arena, ready to fight by Hiccup’s side; for dragons; for the very first time? It still sends chills down my spine from how amazing it was. I can’t even describe it, but it was the turning point in not only Hiccup’s life, but the entire franchise. They all knew each other growing up, but that was the first moment their bond was truly forged. Can you spell character development? It was a tie between this and ‘For Everything Else’, but you guys probably don’t want to read an essay about that; you already know how amazing it is.

14. Favorite moment from the 2nd movie?

My favourite moment in the entire franchise is at the beginning of this movie. The scene where Hiccup and Astrid are talking and working on the map. Not only was it super romantic, it really highlighted their personalities, and the development that had occurred since the first film. It also set the tone of maturity for the film, as well as foreshadowed some character development which had yet to come. The very character development which I hope will continue into the third film.

15. Favorite moment from the 3rd movie?

Haven’t seen it yet, though I feel like it might be the Hiccstrid wedding.

16. Toothless or Light Fury?

Again, haven’t seen the movie yet, but I doubt they’ll be able to create the same connection to the Light Fury as they have with Toothless. Not to mention that I read she’s the cause of many of the problems in then third movie.

17. Hiccstrid or NightLight?

Okay, not even a question - Hiccstrid. They have such an amazing dynamic, and are one of the most relatable couples I’ve ever seen. I could go on for days about how amazing they are, but I’m sure you already know. They have a history together, something that can’t be created in one movie’s film length.

18. Fly with Toothless or fight alongside Hiccup?

I have to  choose fight alongside Hiccup. After all he’s been through, and with the threat of having to let go of Toothless, he need all the support he can get. He needs to know, more than anything, that people will still stand by him without his dragon. I mean, I probably wouldn’t be much help in a fight, but I’d still try.

19. Own any merch? If so which things?

So far, other than DVD’s, the only piece of mercy I own is a Httyd 3 poster. It’s just the standard one, with Hiccup standing between the Light Fury and Toothless, but I love it nonetheless. I hope to get more though when it all is released after the third movie.

20. Which have you seen/read:

HTTYD 1 -Yes!

HTTYD 2 -Yes!

HTTYD 3 -Not Yet!

Riders/Defenders of Berk -Mostly!

Race to the Edge -Yes!

Live Spectacular -Where Can I Watch It?

Gift of the Night Fury -Yes!

Book of Dragons. -Yes!

Legend of the Boneknapper -Yes!

Dawn of the Dragon Racers -Yes!

ROB Comics -You Mean the Graphic Novels? Yes!

Original books -Working on it!

[i-write-about-anything]

Little Beta(s) Chapter 47

Prompt: Liam get’s turned at an early age and he looks at you as his guardian/parent. Plus you’re dating Scott who’s always trying to look after him. (10 year gap between Liam and reader)

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x Reader (platonic) Scott McCall x Reader, Derek Hale (younger and platonic) x Reader

Chapters:1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20- 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 -25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46

Reader's POV

Liam had crawled himself onto my hospital bed, I had missed him and he had missed me. The small child that resembled him laid flat on the couch that was in the room, my baby sleeping peacefully on the small crib next to the bed. Everything was peaceful and I had only wanted it to stay like this enough for me to close my eyes and rest even if it was just for a minute. The door burst open hitting the wall in the process, Both Liam and Louis bolting awake. Loud cried coming from not only my newborn child but also the small boy that was now clutching onto Liam. I looked at Scott and Derek who were now pulling Liam away from me. His eyes were wide open as he was pushed down onto the floor. I grabbed the small girl into my arms as I tried to calm her down from the sudden noise. "Stop!" I yelled and the room went silent. Scott looked at me before taking his hands off Liam. I rubbed my head with my free hand before sighing.  

"Mom." Liam spoke and I extended my arm for him which he gladly took as he stood up from the floor.  

"What the hell is wrong with you." I looked at Scott who rubbed the back of his neck, Derek doing the same. "It wasn’t Liam." Scott sighed.

"Ow!" Derek shouted looking down at Louis who had his teeth sunk into his calf, tears running down his blue eyes. Liam grabbed a hold of Louis who let go of Derek's leg and sobbed into Liam's shoulder. Blood dripped down Derek's leg and he hissed when he touched it. "He's a werewolf?" He pointed to Louis and I sighed. The small unnamed girl whined in my arms and both Scott and Derek took their eyes off Louis and placed them on her. Scott's tense eyes softened as he walked towards me and sat at the edge of the bed. His eyes scanned her face and he smiled when he touched her small hand, forgetting about everything that had just happened.  

"She looks like you." Scott whispered and I sighed once more, none of this was how it was supposed to happen, she came when all hell was breaking loose and I wasn't prepared to find out what was going to happen next.

_____

"So how did this happen?" Scott sighed sitting on the chair near the window. After four hours of both Derek and Scott meeting the newest addition we had finally named our daughter, Lilly. She had been sleeping for only two minutes before the questions started. Louis was in Liam's arms, he didn't feel safe but it looked like Liam had it under control for now.  

"The same way it happened with Liam" I answered.  

"Yeah, but Liam was ten when he turned, he's only what three?" Scott sighed rubbing his temple. "What are we going to do with him?" He looked at me before looking at the boy in Liam's arms, it all seemed surreal, to go through the same thing with what looked exactly like Liam.  

"We have to help him, he can learn, just like I did." Liam spoke up.  

"We can't take in another kid, Lilly was just born, he could kill her." To my surprise Derek had spoken up. Liam looked at Scott who sighed for the millionth time. "Don't tell me you're actually considering this." Derek scoffed and I could already tell he was going to be protective over the small girl.

"I'm not saying we're going to take him in, hell we barely fit in the house ourselves, but I know someone that could help him." Scott looked at the small boy who wasn't letting anyone see his face.  

"I'm not going to let him be on his own, he's my brother." Liam looked down at Louis. ��

"He won't be alone, he'll have someone looking after him. It's for the best Liam." Scott's voice was stern but I knew the look on Liam's face, he was determined.

"Well I'm staying with him, no matter where he goes." He crossed his arms causing Louis to move to the side of him, his eyes met mine and I could see the amount of terror they held. He was just a kid, he was scared as hell and I knew that knew that look too. It's the same one Liam had when he first came home from being bullied, I felt like I was taken back to that same day looking at the poor kid.  

"Liam, please don't start." Scott sighed once more.  

"No, you don’t start, he's my brother, my real brother and I'm not leaving him to deal with this himself." Liam looked at me. "He's the only real family I have left." Ouch. That had hurt more than I expected.  

"We are your family! Mom's been there for you since day one, what are you talking about?" Derek took a step towards Liam but Scott grabbed his arm. Derek looked at me and I looked down fiddling with my fingers.  

"No, he's right, I'm not his mother, Scott's not his dad. If this is what he wants then fine, who am I to stop him, right?" I tried my best to smile but Scott knew me too well.  

"I didn't mean it like that." Liam sighed and I shook my head.  

"Didn't you though?" He gulped and I shook my head.  

"I get it, he's your little brother, but you've known him what five minutes and you're willing to sacrifice all that mom and dad have done for you?" Derek crossed his arms and I hadn't expected anything to come out of his mouth but the fact that he was really took me by surprise.  

"Like it even matters at this point, they'll forget about me anyways, they have Lilly now. We're not they're kids, can't you get that through your head." Liam rolled his eyes.

"It's that what you really think?" Scott stood up and I was afraid of what he might do. "(Y/N) has sacrificed everything for you, she took care of you, fed you, gave you a place to live. She may have not given birth to you but she might as well should have because she's always put you above everything. Above me, above herself, even above this baby. If you want to go with your brother that you've known no more than a couple of hours then so be it but don't expect to come running back to her when you're choosing him over her when she has chosen you over everyone since the day she laid her eyes on you."  

"Scott." I whispered lightly and he shook his head putting his hand up.  

"No, enough is enough. I love you Liam, I do, you're my son and I don't care what you say, we're family, we always will be but I won't have you disrespecting (y/n) like she hasn't changed your life. Like we haven't changed your life. We've given you everything we could, we moved to keep you safe, we stayed in beacon hills for you when we wanted to leave. We've done everything for you."  

"Yet you're not willing to do this one thing for me." He huffed.  

"He killed your biological mother Liam. What do you think he'll do to (y/n)? To Lilly? I won't have a killer in my house." Scott rubbed his temple.  

"Don't you already have one?" Liam looked at Derek who clenched his fists.  

"That's different and you know it." Derek growled.  

"Stop it." They both looked at me and I shook my head. "I'm sorry Liam but we can't take him in and if you want to leave and be with him and forget all about us, about me then that's fine too. You do what you want, I'm not going to beg you to stay, you've made your point, we're not your family." His eyes dropped.  

"I'll call Deaton." Scott grabbed Derek's shoulder before whispering something in his ear. Derek nodded and took the seat next to me. "Come on Liam." Scott had no emotion in his voice but I knew he was sad about the ordeal. Liam looked at me once more before walking out of the room, hand in hand with the only real family he had left. It hadn't even been three seconds since the door had closed when the tears poured out of my eyes. Derek's hand moved to my back and before I knew it I had embraced him. He didn't protest, instead he let me cry into his shoulder.  

_________

Scott's POV

I waited in silence for a call back, Liam talking silently to the devil in disguise. I hadn't expected him to choose anyone over (y/n), he adore her, was his mother for the longest time and all for him to abandon her when she needed him the most. My phone rang and Liam's voice stopped but I quickly ignored the call when it was just Stiles. I didn't want to look at Liam in fear that I myself might shed some tears. He was showing no emotion in leaving any of us and I didn’t know if he was trying to be brave for the little demon in front of him or because he really didn't give a shit about us anymore. "Dad." His voice was small and I hadn't realized that it might be the last time I hear him call me that. I didn't look at him, I nodded my head instead looking down at my phone. "I'm sorry that I'm doing this, will you tell mom," He hesitated. "Tell her I love her and that I'm sorry, okay?" I shook my head.  

"No, not okay." I looked at him and almost immediately the tears that were begging to be released started to drip from my eyes.  

"Dad." Liam whispered and I shook my head.  

"No, don't make this harder than it has to be. I have done my best to teach you right from wrong, I've tried my best to make you the man that you are now and for you to just say you're ready to leave really hurts. I know it's been hard and things don't always go the way they used to when it was only you but we would have done anything for you, we will do anything for you. You hated me when I came into (y/n)'s life." I smiled down at my hands remembering the way he had acted extremely clingy towards her when I met him. "And I know I left and maybe I'm being a hypocrite for being mad at you for leaving her the same way I did but I never chose someone else over her." I wiped my tears before looking at him. "He looks just like you did, exactly like you. You're really choosing him, aren't you?" Liam looked down at his feet and I huffed. "After everything we've ever done for you." Liam shrugged.

"He's my brother. You would have done the same if you were me." Would I? I hadn't thought of it, I had only seen one side of the story, mine. I looked down at my feet thinking about what I would have done, four years ago maybe I would have, maybe I would have chosen my own brother, if I had one.  

"No, I wouldn't have. Family doesn't end at blood. Family is the ones that have been there for you through it all, the ones that would do anything for you. This, this kid isn't your brother. Derek, he's your brother, he's done everything for you, he's helped you at school, he's stood up for you when he knew his life might be at stake, we've all done things to risk our lives for you and you're acting as if it means absolutely nothing to you." My voice got louder causing a couple of people to stare and I sighed lifting my hand up before apologizing to the distressed people.  

"Maybe it doesn't mean anything to me, ever thought of that?" He took a step towards me and I looked at him confused.  

"What the hell is going on with you Liam? This isn't you. What is it? Is someone treating you? I can help you, let me help you." I placed my hand on his shoulder but he shook it off almost immediately.  

"I don't want your fucking help!" He growled and I took a step back, I hadn't heard him curse before. The same people now looking at him. "I don't care about you, I don't care about Derek and I sure as hell don't care about (Y/N)!" He used her name, something he hadn't done since the day he called her mom. His eyes moved behind me before looking back at me. "You all mean nothing to me! And I'll be dammed if I stay here another day with you miserable people." He spat before taking Louis into his arms and walking passed me, shoving me in the process. I stood there dumbfounded as the people raised their eyebrows and shook their heads. I looked back to notice him talking to Deaton's sister, she gave me a sly smile before placing a hand on Liam's shoulder and walking away, and just like that he was gone.  

____

tags; @leslieandjensen @hirafth @neptuneluek @lydiasbxtch @adellyhatter-blog @nxthing-lasts-fxrever@letmebecomeataboo @cloudchaserr @nerdyowlbookfreak @xcastawayherosx @k-baileyy@scotttstilinskii @therealmrshale @thesuperkpopfan @queen–glitch @my-body-is-not-a-temple@mutifandomgirl @moo0803 @hautedbybieber @thejulietfarciertlove @lovelyallen @thejulietfarciertlove