#but I think Katie would get a lot out of reading Dune or the dune encyclopedia

[bronzewool]

Dune is the first book in the Dune series by Frank Herbert, following a political war over ownership of a life-extending drug called Melange or “The Spice” that can only be harvested on the desert planet of Arrakis, where the people have to wear still suits that recycle their lost body moisture just to survive being outside for long periods, and giant sandworms that will attack any machinery they plant on the planet’s surface.

Paul Atreides is the son of Duke Leto and Lady Jessica, and heir to House Atreides, one of the Great Houses that govern planets and serve The Emperor. Paul’s father is sent to oversee The Spice extraction and moves the entire family to Arrakis to govern the planet. Unbeknownst to them, The Emperor is working with House Harkonnen to destroy House Atreides, perceiving them as a threat to the throne. After Duke Leto is murdered and Paul barely escapes with his mother into the desert, they must rely on the help of The Fremen, natives who can survive the harsh environment of the desert, know how to obtain water through underground tunnels and ride the sandworms.

The book puts an interesting twist on “The Chosen One” narrative where the Bene Gesserit, a religious group of women with the power to influence those of weaker minds and hold high standing in the Emperor’s Court, have been orchestrating the entire bloodline of the Great Houses for centuries to produce a child with the correct genes to become the Kwisatz Haderach or "The one who can be many places at once". Paul is the result of this breeding program and the sequels follow his rise to power in the galaxy and the consequences that come with it.

Dune is also the first book I’ve read that incorporates a lot of head-hopping into the narrative (jumping between POVs within a single scene). While not limited to the same restrictions as first-person narration, the third-person narration will still keep the focus on one character in the scene so the reader is not privy to outside information that the character does not yet know. Dune, however, will keep switching between POVs so the reader is constantly aware of every major character’s inner thoughts at all times. I was expecting this to pay off at some point, but as Alla states later on in the book, no one can truly read minds.

There seems to be no hidden meaning behind the constant use of head-hopping, other than Herbert wanting the reader to fully understand the nuances of his characters and their motivations, but in doing so destroys any narrative tension. The reader knows from the very beginning which one of the key characters is going to betray the Duke, and narration teases it constantly until the end of act one when Paul’s father is killed, and Paul and his mother are left for dead in the desert. I couldn’t help but think how much more impactful this would have been if we only had the same information as Paul and didn’t suspect the kind and trusted doctor Yueh, until the rug was pulled out from under him.

Herbert is interested in the worldbuilding aspect of this story, from the political rivalries of the warring factions fighting for ownership over resources, to the biology of the sandworms, how a society would evolve on a barren planet without precipitation and the culture that would arise in those conditions. His characters are by no means flat as he gives them complex motivations and plenty of nuance, but a lot of attention is given to how characters read the intentions and hidden tells in other characters, playing Death Note levels of mental chess, rather than focus the action and dialogue itself.

Herbert also likes to over-explain minor plot points and under-explain major ones that need elaboration. I was tempted to start a drinking game whenever Herbert feels the need to remind the reader anytime Paul and Lady Jessica do anything extraordinary, it’s because of her Bene Gesserit training.

I also have mixed feelings towards the author himself after stumbling upon his son’s biography and the truth of Herbert’s relationship with his other estranged son, Bruce Herbert, who was a gay photographer and gay rights activist during the height of the AIDS Crisis. Both parents disapproved of their son’s lifestyle and Herbert went as far to forbid Bruce from seeing his mother who was dying of cancer because it would “upset her”. Even though Bruce would go on to outlive his father, he would soon die at 41 from pneumonia as a result of AIDS on the 15th of June 1993.

I can’t give an honest review of Dune when I can no longer enjoy the villainous character of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen without knowing how much hate and negative stereotypes Herbert put into his one gay character in the entire series, an obese Baron who drugs and rapes underage slaveboys nightly and openly lusts after his nephew and at one point Paul. I can only imagine what Bruce must have thought of the film adaptation in 1984. From what I’ve heard of later books, it sounds like Herbert may have extended an olive branch to his son by portraying what sounds like two gay lovers in a positive light (albeit vague and where one watches the other die. Yikes.).

So, rather than trying to come up with an unbiased rating for this book, I’ll just say this:

I do not give my water to Frank Herbert. I have no tears for you.

I give my water to Bruce Herbert who died before his time and to every victim who died of AIDS. I give my water to those who did not receive proper treatment in time because of homophobic legislations. I give my water to the friends and families who were left devastated by the loss of a loved one that could have been avoided if the government acted sooner. I give my water to the dead. It's not enough. Even with all the moisture in me. But it’s yours.

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: slow burn, canon rewrite, canon-typical violence, cursing Summary: You and Mando choose Sorgan as your place to lay low, only to get wrangled into a risky job. Notes: In my head, Cara Dune is Katy O’Brian.. Yes, I’m ignoring the fact that she plays one of Moff Gideon’s officers lol Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme​​ @beskarhearts​​ @dincrypt​​ @honey-hi​​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​​ @red-leaders​​ @zoemariefit​​

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

The three of you sat in the cockpit—Mando piloting the ship, you in the copilot seat behind him, and the kid perched on the console. He had slipped out of his own seat, waddled to the front of the cockpit, and managed to grasp the edge of the console with his tiny hands and scrabble his legs against the front of it to shimmy all the way up there. Honestly, it was an impressive feat for such a small being. Mando pretended not to notice, keeping his visor trained on the viewport.

You’d been sitting in silence for a while, watching the stars streak by. It was a fairly comfortable silence, considering you were complete strangers and still trying to feel out the limits of your tenuous alliance.

Looking at the back of Mando’s helmet, the surface of which reflected the bands of hyperspace that surged around the Crest, you thought again about how challenging it was to read him: there was so little to go on. No facial expressions, no significant looks, and very few gestures—even the cadence of his breathing was largely disguised by the helmet and modulator.

That was definitely part of his appeal: the mystery. He was an almost blank canvass where others were open books. Because your survival had hinged on your ability to read people, you had gotten so good at it that the task lost its fun rather quickly. Mando was an interesting new game.

In some ways, the armor forced the Mandalorian to be much more straightforward. Because it obscured his features, he had to ask for what he wanted outright—unless it was from a bounty. He could easily communicate threat with just his stance. Anything else, though, he had to verbalize. You were interested to see how this would play out in his interactions with you. You weren’t a job or his enemy, and you were really hoping that meant he’d eventually be slightly less withholding with you.

The baby, looking around, cooed quietly and reached over to flick a random switch on the panel to his right. Mando disregarded the action, pressing a few buttons in front of him. You stifled a chuckle.

The kid, clearly testing his boundaries, leaned over to flick another switch. It turned green when he activated it, and the sound of a machine whirring kicked in.

“Stop touching things,” snapped Mando, frustrated, turning to look at him. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face, grateful that Mando couldn’t see you.

The child lowered his ears and trilled sadly in response to the admonishment but recovered quickly: his ears pricked back up, and keeping his eyes trained on Mando in what seemed like a purposeful act of open rebellion, he leaned over slowly to flick yet another switch. This one turned red, and the ship rattled in response. You let out a sharp bark of laughter, slapping a hand over your mouth to smother the rest of your reaction.

This time, Mando pushed one large gloved hand past the baby to deactivate the switch and picked him up to set him on his lap. You smiled again, knowing this was likely what the kid was trying to achieve anyways. He wanted attention.

“Do you know his name?” you asked. You assumed he didn’t because he always called him “the kid”...but it also wouldn’t be a surprise if Mando did know his name and just chose to call him that instead.

“No,” he replied. “You ready to pick a planet?” Mando changed the subject abruptly as he reclined to look at you over his shoulder.

“Sure,” you agreed, standing to lean over the back of his chair so you could see the screen in front of him.

After some discussion and research, toggling through the nearby planets on the nav, you decided on Sorgan as your place to lay low. It was a rural planet, sparsely inhabited and undeveloped. Mando described it as “a real backwater skughole.” But there were some small settlements, so there would be food and fuel.

Your stomach gurgled loudly.

“I’m going to go eat,” you said, standing to leave the cockpit.

Mando, still holding the baby, stood to follow.

You moved toward the door just as Mando did the same, both attempting to walk through it together. He paused and stepped back, pressing himself against the wall as far as he could to let you by, gesturing you forward with his free hand.

Without thinking, you touched his arm lightly as you slipped past him in the tight doorway, and he flinched away, wrenching his arm back. You withdrew your hand quickly and looked up at him.

“Sorry,” he explained gruffly, visor tilted down at you. “Reflex.”

“I get it.”

He twitched his hand forward like he was considering reaching for you then decided against it, clenching it into a fist by his side.

You stood in the confined space for a moment, pinned by the mesmerizing void of his visor. Inches from your chest, he was so tall and imposing, somehow equally menacing and alluring as he towered over you. It was hard to ignore his intoxicating magnetism when you were this close to him.

He cocked his head the tiniest bit, and you realized, with a rush of embarrassment, that he was waiting for you to move.

Flustered, you turned and climbed down the ladder to find your pack. Mando followed and sat across the hull from you, after settling the kid into a makeshift crib—a storage box lined with blankets—on the floor beside his feet. He busied himself adjusting something on the complicated armor that covered his forearm, as you ate one of your ration packs.

You studied him as he worked. As far as you could tell—with the glaring exception of the presence of the child—Mando was the definition of a bounty hunter. He worked alone, and all he did was work.

He was clearly not used to casual, nonthreatening human contact, aside from that of the child.

You felt a deep, cutting sadness when you really pondered the solitude of his existence. The bulk of his interactions were violent confrontations. He had the child, but for how long? He seemed a recent acquisition. Did Mando have friends? When was the last time he felt at ease around another adult person?

When was the last time someone touched him, other than a bounty during a fight?

You’d been on the run for years and, at times, it had almost killed you—not the running itself, but the loneliness. No matter how much time you had to adjust, it remained a draining existence. You maintained only loose contacts and casual, fleeting relationships. How long had his life been exactly the same? Decades? Had he ever known anything different?

You looked down at the baby. The presence of the child spoke to the possibility that he at least wanted something different for himself.

The kid seemed to feel your gaze and turned his head to train his huge eyes on you. You smiled at him. He grabbed the edge of the box with his tiny three-fingered hands to haul himself over the side and toddled his way over to where you sat. He hugged your calf, looking up at you expectantly.

Mando was busy fiddling with the controls on his vambrace and didn’t notice.

“Can I?” You gestured down at the kid. Mando’s head flicked up.

“I guess,” he acquiesced hesitantly. He watched as you reached down to pick up the kid.

The baby settled happily into your lap, looking up to reach a hand toward your face. You met his hand with your own, and he was content to latch his little fingers around your much larger one and sit back. He babbled and wiggled the tiny green toes that poked out of the bottom of his outfit, which appeared to be made out of the altered sleeve of an old beige flight jacket.

Despite the fact that the child was more than happy cuddled in your arms, Mando was visibly uncomfortable. Abandoning his task completely, he sat forward with his elbows propped on his knees and watched you tensely.

He didn’t relax until you set the baby back down, turning him toward Mando, and he toddled his way back across the floor. Mando took the kid with him into his bunk when he disappeared to eat.

***

From the ship, Sorgan looked inviting: lush greens and blues, the landscape broken up by winding rivers. Clouds swirled across the atmosphere. Mando touched the Razor Crest down in a clearing of a pristine forest.

Mando wasn’t about to leave you behind with the kid—or with the ship, for that matter—so he informed you that the two of you would set out to the nearest village to find lodging, and he would leave the child behind. You understood that he didn’t have a lot of options, but leaving a toddler alone on a ship seemed like a terrible idea. You decided not to question it for the moment.

It was abundantly clear that Mando was accustomed to running the show and operating alone. He was used to making unilateral decisions...and that was going to have to change if the two of you were ever going to get to a place of easy coexistence. As someone who was also used to making unilateral decisions, you didn’t take well to being told what to do without even being consulted. You figured you’d give him some time to adjust to your presence before bringing this to his attention. You reminded yourself that this was a temporary arrangement.

Before leaving, Mando gave the baby a very serious, very stern talking-to about not touching anything and staying put. This was another instance that made it clear that he hadn’t been in charge of this kid (or any kid) for very long. You tried your best to conceal your amusement while Mando lectured the child. When he started to wag his finger dramatically to punctuate his points, you coughed to cover a laugh that escaped your lips.

As you both gathered what you needed in the hull, you asked, “How effective are your lectures usually?”

He let out a tired sigh, shoulders dropping slightly: “Not very.”

You laughed.

Sure enough, the baby shuffled up behind the two of you as the ramp of the ship lowered.

Mando looked down and sighed heavily.

“Oh, what the hell? Come on.” He strode forward decisively without a backwards glance.

You bent down to scoop up the child, not sure how Mando expected this tiny creature to keep up with his long strides, and followed Mando into the verdant forest.

***

The village was made up of a collection of circular wooden structures with pointed roofs. You ducked after Mando into the public house, the largest building in the small cluster. Good-natured conversation and the smell of something delicious permeated the air. You set the baby down on the floor to walk beside you.

A lothcat curled underneath a table hissed loudly at him as he waddled by, and he cowered in fear. You scowled at Mando, who didn’t react besides tilting his helmet down, and picked the child back up, patting him lightly.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you murmured reassuringly. Mando paused to watch you comfort the kid. You waited for him to pull the baby from your arms or say something to discourage you, but he didn’t. When you looked up at him, he continued forward to find an empty table.

Mando scanned the room carefully as he strode between the tables. You noticed an intimidating woman surveying him as he passed. You seated yourselves, and a woman in an apron approached with a friendly smile on her face.

“Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth for the little one,” requested Mando. Then he turned to look at you.

“One for me too, please.”

“Very well,” replied the woman.

Jerking his head towards the intimidating woman, Mando asked, “That one, over there—when did she arrive?”

The woman hesitated, and then said, “Uh, I’ve seen her here for the last week or so.”

“What’s her business here?”

You studied the woman in question, noting her piecemeal armor and tattoos. She looked like a war-hardened soldier.

“Oh, well there’s not much business in Sorgan, so I can’t say,” the server responded noncommittally. “She doesn’t strike me as a log runner.”

Mando reached into his belt and threw some credits toward her on the table. She brightened.

“Well, thank you, sir. I will get those broths to you as soon as possible, and I will throw in a flagon of spotchka for good measure. I will be right back with that.”

The server left, and the unobstructed view revealed that the woman he’d been asking about had disappeared.

Mando stood quickly.

“Stay with the kid?” he asked, looking down at you.

You hummed your assent, but he watched you for a long moment, as if assessing whether or not this was a safe idea. He was weighing the risk of leaving the kid with you against the risk of not neutralizing the possible threat of this stranger.

“I’m not going anywhere. We agreed to stick together for the time being, remember? Relax,” you assured him. It wasn’t much of a commitment, but what else could you say?

He nodded decisively and turned on his heel.

You and the kid watched him leave. The baby made a small whimpering sound as Mando disappeared through the curtain that hung over the exit.

You considered the baby as you waited for your food. He looked around, curiously taking in his surroundings.

What species is he? You’d never encountered anyone like him. Despite the fact that he was clearly a toddler, he looked a bit like an old man. And a tortoise? And maybe a frog? Whatever he looked like, he was really damn cute. Those big eyes and huge, expressive ears were undeniably adorable. You’d never felt a maternal instinct in your life, but in that moment, you wanted to pick him up and snuggle him again. You resisted the urge.

The server returned with two steaming bowls of broth and a flagon of electric blue liquor. The child immediately reached out for the broth, letting out a string of gibberish.

“It’s too hot. Let’s let it cool.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and let out a disapproving huff.

Despite his protests, you waited until the broth cooled a bit before setting it in front of him. He picked up the bowl and slurped happily.

You didn’t start to worry about Mando until you’d finished your own broth and the drink—you’d figured Mando wasn’t about to drink spotchka—and he still hadn’t come back. You scooped up the kid, who was still holding his little wooden bowl of soup, and slipped out the exit to look for Mando.

The loud sounds of a brawl made it easy to locate him.

He was locked in an intense hand-to-hand fight with the woman. They were both on the ground, Mando on top of her briefly until she used her strong legs to launch him over her body onto his back. He landed with a thud.

Ouch.

You set the baby down on the ground, but neither Mando nor the woman noticed. The two of them seemed fairly equally matched. To be safe, though, you eased your blaster out of its holster and held it loosely by your side.

Before you’d decided whether or not to intervene, the fight ended in a stalemate, both of them flat on their backs, having drawn their blasters simultaneously.

They panted on the ground, until Mando lolled his head to the side and saw you and the kid watching them, the baby slurping his broth loudly.

“You want some soup?” Mando deadpanned, looking up at the woman. You let out a sharp laugh at the unexpected question.

The tension dissolved, and they both brought their blasters back down to their sides.

You sheathed your blaster and offered Mando a hand, and—to your surprise—he took it without hesitation.

“Thanks for jumping in to help,” Mando grunted as he got to his feet slowly and dropped your hand to dust himself off.

“Hey, I was ready to step in,” you held out your blaster pointedly. “I probably wouldn’t have let her kill you.”

The woman chuckled as she straightened up then turned to walk back to the public house.

“Good to know,” retorted Mando, fixing you with an exasperated head tilt.

***

The four of you sat down together and talked for a while, sipping broth. Mando introduced himself to the woman, ignoring you and the kid. His manners seemed to come and go.

The woman shared that her name was Cara Dune.

“And who is this?” Cara inquired, eyebrows raised, looking from you and the baby to Mando.

Interested to hear how he’d explain your presence, you waited to see what Mando would say before answering.

“Long story,” replied Mando. Yep, that seems about right.

You introduced yourself, offering a fake name and sticking out a hand to shake Cara’s hand.

Mando’s head snapped to you: “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“You never asked,” you shrugged.

If Cara was confused that Mando didn’t know your name, she didn’t say anything about it. She shared that she had been a shock trooper in the Alliance, but she was trying to make a new life for herself, away from all that.

When she inquired, you shared a carefully curated set of details about yourself: born on Naboo, studied on Coruscant, now a freelance programmer with a diverse set of clientele and therefore stayed off the grid as a rule, with Mando at the moment to get from one place to the next and find more work—Sorgan was a temporary stopover.

You figured Mando didn’t love the idea of being described as a glorified taxi service, but it was better than disclosing the truth.

Mando leaned forward slightly and fixed you with his unwavering gaze while you spoke but questioned nothing. You knew he likely recognized the gaping holes in your story, considering he’d witnessed firsthand how well you could hold your own in a fight.

He shared little about himself, aside from the fact that he was in the Guild but not currently in pursuit of a bounty. Cara explained that she’d thought Mando was hunting her and that was why she reacted so defensively.

Understandable. That’s a much more reasonable reaction to his attention than flirting with him from afar liked I’d done in Nevarro. Whoops.

Finally, Cara stood: “Well, this has been a real treat, but unless you want to go another round, Mando, either you or I are gonna have to move on, and I was here first.” She turned to you and added: “You, on the other hand, are welcome to stay.” She winked at you and sauntered away.

You let out a surprised laugh, and Mando swiveled his head from Cara to you so fast, he probably tweaked his neck.

You couldn’t decide if it was hilarious or frustrating (probably both) that Cara had warmed to you over the course of a twenty-minute conversation while Mando remained aloof after more than twenty-four hours together.

Mando shook his head like he was willing away an unwelcome thought and leaned an elbow on the table: “Well, looks like this planet is taken.”

“Technically, that only applies to you.”

“You want to stay here?” There was a hint of unease in his otherwise even voice.

“No, Mando. You’re stuck with me for now, remember?”

“Right.”

You leaned forward and placed both your palms on the table: “But before we leave, I would like it on the record that I watched the kid for a full ten minutes without running away or harming a single hair on his wrinkly head.” You reached over to rub one of the child’s ears briefly, and he cooed up at you. “And I am electing not to ditch you and stay here with Cara even though she seems much more fun than you.”

A sound that might have been a laugh crackled through the modulator.

“So maybe you don’t have to breathe down my neck every second when we’re on the Crest?”

“You did almost let Cara kill me.”

You leaned back and laughed. “So, you admit it—you needed help.”

“No—I...That’s not the point.” You enjoyed how easy it was to agitate Mando.

“You’re right, it’s not. The point is that if I’m going to stick around for a while, you’re going to have to give me the benefit of the doubt. Otherwise, this doesn’t make sense.”

He hummed noncommittally and rested a hand on the tabletop, gloved fingers tapping out an erratic rhythm.

“I could have abducted the kid and stolen the Crest while Cara took her time kicking your ass, but I didn’t.”

“It sounds like you considered it.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Mando.” 

You fixed him with an impatient stare, and he met your look with his impassive visor.

You huffed, and letting the levity fall away, so he knew you meant it, you asked, “Maybe it would just be easier for me to find some other way out of here?”

His fingers stilled. “No.”

“Okay... so, you’ll lighten up?”

In a well-timed interruption, the kid quirked his head at Mando and let out a string of nonsense that had the upward cadence of a question.

“He’s wondering the same thing.”

The child stretched his arms out toward Mando and wiggled his fingers. “He just wants to be picked up.” Mando scooped him up and tucked him under his arm. “But, point taken. Let’s get out of here,” he said, lifting his hand to flag down the server.

Mando seemed surprised when you reached into your bag and pulled out a small pouch of credits to pay for the food. In reality, it was one of three that you had on you at the moment.

You were a professional at disappearing. You always had a blaster at your back, a knife on your belt, another knife strapped to your ankle, and plenty of credits on your person. Plus, the roughly hewn necklace tucked under your shirt looked unassuming but was worth a small fortune—though, you’d have to be in a really tough spot to ever consider selling it. You were used to leaving places at a moment’s notice. Being prepared for anything was your default state.

Mando should understand that better than anyone.

***

When you returned to the Crest, Mando mumbled something about routine maintenance and disappeared outside with a heavy metal toolbox in hand. The kid was asleep in Mando’s bunk, and you were sitting in the hull, reading about potential planets on your datapad, when you heard strange voices approaching.

Setting down your datapad, you stood and walked down the slope of the ramp at the back of the ship quietly. You peeked your head around the side, staying out of sight, and watched two men speaking to Mando’s back as he continued working at an open panel on the side of the Crest.

The men didn’t look threatening, and Mando was clearly unconcerned. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Our whole village chipped in,” explained one of the men, a touch of desperation in his voice. The other man, who had longer hair, held up a pouch of credits.

Mando turned to face them. “It’s not enough,” he answered simply.

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is?” the man with short, curly hair continued.

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.”

Rude.

The men were insistent, pleading. Mando’s harsh rebuff surprised you. He seemed to flip flop between being decidedly cold and cautiously warm with strangers, and right now he was the former. You weren’t fooled though. With a little more prodding, you were sure they’d convince him—well, you hoped they’d convince him to take the job and stay.

“This is everything we have. We’ll give you more after the next harvest,” promised the second man.

The side door of the Crest hissed loudly as it opened, and the two men jumped back in surprise. They looked at each other, resigned, when Mando walked up the ramp, ignoring them.

“Come on, let’s head back.”

No, don’t give up yet. He’s secretly soft. He adopts stray babies, protects complete strangers, and offers soup to people who have just thrown him on his ass!

They turned to leave, mumbling sadly to each other. You hurried back up the ramp to meet Mando in the hull. You stopped, settling your hands on your hips.

“What?”

“I mean... we were looking for a reason to stay, and they just gave us one. We were looking for a place to stay middle of nowhere... they just happen to live in the middle of nowhere...”

“Cara—,” he started.

“She seems like a reasonable enough person.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh then turned to lean out the open side of the ship. “Where do you live?” Mando called after the retreating men.

One of them called, “On a farm. Weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.”

“You have lodging?” Mando clarified.

“Yeah, absolutely!”

“Come up and help,” he said to the men.

The two men paused when they saw you.

“Hi,” you greeted, turning to pull on your boots and grab your bag.

“Hello,” they both replied tentatively.

“She comes too,” Mando stated, jerking his head in your direction, as he began to pack up a chest of weaponry.

“Sure, that’s fine,” one of the men responded.

“And we have to make a stop.”

***

You waited with the two men—they introduced themselves as Caben and Stoke—at their speeder while Mando took the kid and tracked down Cara. They shared that they were krill farmers and needed help because Klatooinian raiders had been terrorizing their settlement.

Mando located Cara quickly, and they met you at the speeder, the back of which was full of weapons. You scooted over to make space for them as the speeder stuttered to life. It was cramped and when everyone was seated, your side was pressed into Mando, the kid settled on his lap.

Mando and Cara talked quietly while you laid your head back to watch the stars. You looked down when you felt something gently press on your thigh. The kid had climbed off of Mando’s lap and was looking up expectantly at you, as if asking permission to crawl into your lap.

You smiled at him and looked up at Mando, posing a silent question.

He nodded once, and you pulled the kid onto your lap. The baby cooed happily, wiggled around to get comfortable, and closed his eyes. You rested your head back again and let the movement of the speeder lull you into a light sleep.

Before you were totally out, you felt Mando adjust beside you, leaning back and stretching an arm over your head. Instinctively, you lifted your head so he could settle his arm down behind you, and you relaxed back so your cheek rested on his cold shoulder.

In a sleepy haze, you decided to capitalize on this opening and let your hand rest on the beskar plate covering his thigh.

***

You woke up when the speeder stuttered to a stop and opened your eyes, rubbing them in the brightness of the morning. You sat up and Mando did the same beside you, moving his arm from where it had been supporting your back. He hadn’t moved all night.

The scene before you was nothing if not idyllic: green and peaceful. Wind whispered through the tall grasses that lined the village, forming a natural buffer between the settlement and the forest. Circular wooden structures, the same pointed shape as the public house, were clustered at the middle of the clearing. Villagers, catching flopping blue krill in flat baskets, waded through square ponds that encircled the small community. Children giggled and called out, running toward the speeder.

“Well, looks like they’re happy to see us,” observed Mando.

“Looks like,” agreed Cara.

The children flocked toward you to see the baby in your arms, and you hopped down to greet them.

***

You spent the morning meeting people, learning the layout of the tiny village. The children took to the kid immediately, following you wherever you carried him. Apparently, Mando had accepted the fact that the child was safe with you because he didn’t object.

The gaggle of children showed you around excitedly, even demonstrating how to expertly sift krill from the ponds. They brought you to the long hall where food—stew and spotchka—was served. You sat on the ground outside, eating and enjoying the sun, with the children and the kid. They watched in enthusiastic disgust as the child caught and ate a live frog.

That afternoon, you and Mando followed the woman who introduced herself as Omera to your lodging. Though there did not seem to be an official leader of the small community, Omera clearly garnered respect. You watched as she gave easy instruction to those around her, and they complied reflexively.

She led you to one of the wooden buildings on the edges of the settlement. You noticed the way Mando stopped in the doorway to admire Omera as she raised a window covering and the afternoon light illuminated her beautiful face.

“Please, come in,” Omera invited warmly. 

You set the baby on the ground, and he waddled a few steps before plopping down to lean against a crate, his eyelids heavy after a full morning of play.

“I hope this is comfortable for the three of you,” Omera continued. “Sorry that all we have is the barn. There is a spare crib for the child.” She gestured at a well-made looking crib. You wondered when the last time the child had slept in a proper bed was.

You picked him up from where he sat dozing on the floor and settled him into the crib.

You looked around the open space of the barn. It was clearly used for storage: it was lined with baskets, furniture, crates, fishing equipment, and more, but a large space in the center of the room was clear. You hadn’t considered until this moment that you might be sharing one room with Mando. Neither of you would be comfortable in these close quarters.

“Oh, we’re not—,” you started.

“This will do fine,” confirmed Mando, cutting you off mid-sentence. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, surprised that he seemed okay with this sleeping arrangement.

“I stacked some blankets over here,” Omera pointed to a stack of quilts in the corner.

“Thank you. That’s very kind,” replied Mando as he turned to unstrap his rifle from his back.

A little girl crept up to the open doorway, looking down at her feet with her hands clasped behind her back. You recognized her from the gaggle of children. She was one of the quieter, shyer kids.

Mando, who was facing the back of the room, whipped around defensively at her movement. His hand hovered threateningly over his blaster.

The little girl gasped and jumped back, disappearing from view. Omera turned to follow her out the door.

You stepped toward Mando and put a steadying hand on his elbow in the space between his armor, drawing his arm away from his weapon. He looked down at where your hand gripped his arm.

“Are you okay?” you asked, under your breath.

He gave you a curt nod and exhaled loudly through the modulator.

You dropped your hand to your side when Omera returned, the little girl hugged tightly to her.

“This is my daughter, Winta,” she explained in her dulcet voice. “We don’t get a lot of visitors around here. She’s not used to strangers.”

Neither is Mando.

Mando stood awkwardly and said nothing.

“It’s nice to meet you, Winta,” you greeted gently. She smiled timidly against her mother’s stomach.

“These people are going to help protect us from the bad ones,” Omera said.

“Thank you,” replied Winta quietly.

“Come on, Winta. Let’s give our guests some room.” Omera took Winta’s hand and lead her away.

As soon as the two of you and the baby were alone, you turned to Mando. “How are we both going to sleep in here? You can’t sleep in your helmet.”

Mando stood frozen, staring at the doorway. He seemed not to have registered that you said anything.

“Mando?”

He turned to you. “I—uh, it’s fine. I didn’t want to inconvenience them any more.”

“But how is this going to work?”

“I can sleep in my helmet.”

“No way, that’s ridiculous. I’ll ask if I can stay with Cara.” You took a step toward the door.

He looked down at the floor. “I’d rather you stay here.”

“Ah...okay. I thought we were past the stage where you felt the need to babysit me,” you joked, hoping that wasn’t the reason for this.

“No. That’s not...” he started to explain but trailed off.

He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, and, despite the prickle of irritation you felt at the confirmation of his mistrust, you felt compelled to fill the uneasy silence that followed.

Avoiding his gaze, you looked over to where the kid was snoozing in the crib. “It’s fine. I’m going to go out for a bit if you want to take it off now. I’ll let you know before I come back in.”

“Thank you.”

You dropped your bag onto a crate and slipped out of the room and into the soft sunlight that shone through the sparse clouds.

Unwittingly, Mando seemed to know how to give you just enough reassurance to keep you around and just enough doubt to keep you guessing about why you were here with him. He was holding you at arm’s length, but not letting you go.

The potential between you was as enticing as it was confusing.

The more time you spent with Mando, the more of a paradox he seemed to be. He was constantly torn between a need to be hard and his instinct to be soft. You had an inkling that at heart, he was soft through and through. How else could you explain the presence of the baby?

His literal and metaphorical armor were clearly worn out of necessity—for several reasons, you guessed: to be successful in a brutal profession, probably as a result of past trauma, and simply because life is just fucking hard. You barely knew him, but you couldn’t help but want to be someone with whom he felt comfortable letting his guard down.

You pushed these thoughts from your mind as you stepped into the dappled light that filtered through the canopy of the forest. You were happy to explore the woods on your own, enjoying the serene atmosphere and natural beauty. It had been a while since you’d been on such a lovely planet. It reminded you of home.

***

When you returned a few hours later, all the villagers were gathering around the barn where Mando and Cara stood on the porch. You walked up to join the crowd and Mando’s visor followed your movement. You smiled at him, and he looked away abruptly, turning to Cara. They exchanged a few words then Mando stepped forward to address everyone.

“Bad news. You can’t live here anymore,” Mando announced. He declared this in an infuriatingly neutral, straightforward way, the same way you’d tell someone there was going to be rain.

They must have seen the same tracks in the forest that I saw.

The villagers broke out in surprised chatter: “What?” “Why?”

Cara and Mando muttered to each other. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you hoped Cara was explaining how callous he’d sounded.

Cara started forward, “I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear, but there are no other options.”

Despite her slightly better manner, the villagers broke out in angry protests again.

“You took the job!” Caben cried.

“That was before we knew about the AT-ST!” exclaimed Cara.

Your stomach dropped. You had hoped you were somehow wrong about what those tracks belonged to. It would take serious preparation to successfully take on a band of raiders and an Imperial walker.

“What is that?” asked Caben.

“The armored walker with two enormous guns that you knew about and didn’t mention,” said Cara indignantly.

That is a pretty important piece of information they had chosen to leave out.

More protests erupted. The villagers shouted pleas over one another. Mando was surveying the desperate villagers, saying nothing. You had a feeling that despite his initial refusal and these adverse circumstances, he would elect to help them anyways. Eventually one of the many heartfelt appeals was likely to sway him—listening to their pleading voices, you knew you would find it hard to refuse them.

Omera’s plaintive voice broke over the crowd, and you suspected she’d be the one to convince him.

“We have nowhere to go,” she entreated.

Mando met your gaze, where you stood silently at the back of the crowd. He cocked his head, and you knew what he was asking. You gave him an understanding smile, nodding your agreement. He bowed his head slightly in response.

You turned and walked away, not needing to hear the rest of the conversation to know that Mando had already decided to stay.

***

Chapter 4

[serenasoutherlyns]

Wake Up With You (Ask You How You Feel)

a/n: i took my ritalin for the first time in weeks and instead of cleaning my apartment, i wrote a Very Fluffy songfic. enjoy <3. i only read this a couple times so forgive any errors. all feedback appreciated!


calex fluff, song is "Go Outside" by Ratboys.

I wanna go outside again

I wanna sit back with the windows down and breathe it all in

I wanna go outside again

It's quiet outside the pub when Alex decides to go for it. The air is crisp and everything glitters underneath the streetlights. She'd gone with Casey who'd gone with Amanda who'd gone with Nick to get some fresh air, which really meant have a cigarette. Amanda and Nick had ended up in a cab very quickly, still attempting to seem like they weren't going to the same home.

Despite her aversion to sidewalks outside of bars at night, when Casey asked her to stay, Alex did, feeling safe. They keep moving closer, and Alex lets the overwhelming need to feel Casey win her over. She feels far more intoxicated than the one vodka soda she'd had would've made her.

Casey's hands are soft, but her lips are softer when Alex asks the question of a kiss. She thanks whatever forces there are that the clear answer is yes. Casey pulls her closer, tugging on her coat, but keeps the kiss delicate, like she's trying not to break anything. She pulls away-- Alex has to close her eyes, terrified that she's made a mistake and thrown away what chance she ever had.

"This is," Casey says, her voice giving away her smile, "I've wanted you to do that for so long." Alex feels her chest get warm at the admission. "Please tell me you want to do it again."

Alex nods, this time doing the pulling, a firmer kiss. "I want to do that as many times as I possibly can."

I wanna lay down in the sand

I wanna show up at the shoreline and drink Lake Michigan

I wanna lay down in the sand

"Why are you in Indiana again?" Alex's frustrated but happy voice comes crackly through the phone, almost the same frequency as the short waves. Casey's pockets are full of sand and her arms are coming up in goosebumps, but no part of her wants to go inside.

"Convention on torture methods," she says, pleased with the laughter she hears back, "Or the Novak family reunion."

"Mm. Well, I think you should come home."

"Oh yeah? Feeling clingy, Cabot?"

"I miss you."

"I wish you would come here instead." Casey snaps a wide-angle photo of the beach to Alex, doing her best to get the dunes and the lake in the same frame.

Alex gasps. "Is that Indiana?"

Casey laughs until there are tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. "A very small part of Northern Indiana, yes. The Midwest isn't all bad."

"Better when you're there."

And I wanna walk down my main street

I wanna listen for the birds who might be talkin' to me

I wanna walk down my street

They can be together and silent now. Alex is grateful for this fact because she can hardly speak. Laryngitis-- Dr. Warner had explained to her that it probably started as a minor infection and was made worse with all the talking and bad sleep. A round of antibiotics and steroids plus lots of fluids should make it better before the weekend is over.

They don't need to talk. Casey is idly playing with her hair, Alex's head in her lap, dozing off in the afternoon sunlight. Casey's reading a book, Alex listens to the pages turn.

"Do you hear that?" Casey asks.

Alex hums, before regretting making any vocal movement. She screws her eyes shut in pain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, love," Casey says, rubbing her hand soothingly down Alex's arms, completely naturally using that word they haven't said yet. "I didn't mean to wake you. It was just a pretty bird."

Alex takes a moment to decide if the pain is worth replying. "Don't apologize for pretty things," she whispers, her eyes still shut, "And I love you too."

I wanna be eloquent

I wanna take all of my best friends and show them where I live

Oh, I wanna be so eloquent

"It'll be fine, Case," Alex says quietly, holding her waist before their guests arrive. Today's the day she meets the friends, which, Casey thinks, with no in-laws to meet, is making her justifiably nervous. "Neither of them is going to bite you."

"Why do I doubt that," Casey says, only half-joking. "You know us, lawyers, sharks..."

"And how different am I out of the courtroom? Or Katie, or Adrian, or Anna, or Jesse,"

"You gonna list my whole graduating class?" Casey traces her fingers along the little gold necklace with the square pendant Alex has taken to wearing around her neck.

"If it calms you down," Alex says. "If you're really too nervous I can tell Abbie and Serena to keep the takeout and we can go to bed early," she says, tucking Casey's hair behind her ear. "But they're really more like manatees," she says, finally eliciting a smile.

The buzzer buzzes, and a brief flash of panic passes through Casey. She leans in, kissing Alex.

"If they love you, I'm sure we'll get along."

And I wanna make myself a meal

I wanna wake up with you next to me and ask you how you feel

I wanna make us both a meal

If she keeps doing things like this, Alex thinks all the love will make her explode. Today it's coming home to Casey, dancing in the kitchen, the apartment smelling like garlic and oregano, the sounds of an old country album mixing with the sizzling of oil in a pan. With her resolve growing thinner and thinner every day, Alex can't help but wrap her arms around her waist, burying her entire self into her hair, strong shoulders, soft hips. Casey jumps, and this earns Alex a snap on the wrist from the handle of her mixing spoon.

"Baby, do you want to get burned?" She says, laughing into the words, relaxing into her touch. She holds Alex's hand, stepping them away from the stove. She guides her through the rest of the song, never once complaining about Alex's two left feet and frankly dangerous elbows.

Casey stirs the sauce, then tastes it, pursing her lips, blowing to cool it down first. She holds the spoon up to Alex with a raise of her eyebrow, watching her look of satisfaction at the taste with pride. "Going to surprise me next time?" She asks.

"Yeah," Alex says, pointing her gaze over her glasses, "it's worth it."

And I wanna love you 'til the end

I wanna float off with the angels and pick a fight and win

I wanna love you 'til

'Til thе end

As Alex keeps reminding her, they have no need for a piece of paper to know they're in love. The wedding dresses she has saved on pinterest tell a different story.

The ring has been patiently waiting in the closet since two weeks after Alex kissed her.

"Baby?" Alex's voice comes from their living room while Casey fiddled with the ring box, practicing how she would ask.

"Yes?" Casey says, still dreamy, taking the ring box in one hand and popping it behind her back.

"Come sit with me." Alex says.

They don't need to get married, she doesn't need to propose, and they don't need the ring, not to know they're in love, not to prove anything, not to follow the common path.

But when Casey had come home that day, Alex had looked so comfortable and secure sitting on the couch. It's everything: her hair in a bun, her thick-rimmed glasses, her tank top and cozy pants, the novel she was reading, the way she stretched over the couch, twisting to see her come in through the door. And, what had finally melted Casey, made her absolutely certain: the completely natural smile she has whenever Casey comes home, her eyes wide and wrinkling at the edges, her tongue slightly poking out between her teeth. She has to see that one, every day.

She walks out of the bedroom, having changed into her sweatpants, still hiding the ring behind her back as she slides onto the couch. The same smile greets her when she gets to Alex.

"Sorry, I got distracted."

Alex sits up on her knees, furrowing her brow. "Is everything OK?"

"More than," Casey says, pressing the same kind of gentle kiss as the first onto Alex's lips. Suddenly, everything she was going to say, all the long, grand, rehearsed speeches she'd had for this very moment feel all kinds of wrong. Instead, she slides herself just off the couch, kneeling, opening the box.

Alex gasps, a wide open smile, beginning to say "Yes" before Casey gets any words out.

"Will you marry me?"

---

@addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @hi-i-1

Reminder that my taglist is always open!

[ultrahpfan5blog]

My thoughts on the Mandalorian seasons 1 and 2

The Mandalorian was yet again another show which I was late to catch up on. I had been meaning to for a while but just kept forgetting. I will admit, I was a little skeptical whether I would like the show. While I enjoy all the movies on some level or another, I am not exactly a big Star Wars guy. My experience with Star Wars is predominantly with the Skywalker saga and the two standalone movies, Solo and Rogue One, which are pretty tied into stories and characters from the Skywalker saga. I have not read any of the books or watched Clone Wars or Rebels or any other animated material apart from maybe a random episode or two. So I really didn't know if this show would entertain me. After finishing both seasons, I will say I was wrong for the most part. The show is fun, but I will also say that its not a complete home run for me and I can imagine its a lot more appealing to those who are more deeply invested in Star Wars lore.

It took me a couple of episodes to really get into the show. Initially, it was a bit tough for me to get invested, which is doubly hard with a main character whose face we don't get to see. Chapter 3 is where I started to enjoy the show on an action/adventure spectacle level and you also start to get attached to the bond between the Mandalorian and baby Yoda or Grogu as we find out in season 2. There is no doubt that the strength of this show lies in parent/child relationship between the Mandalorian and Grogu. Grogu is almost impossibly cute and I have to give credit to whomever designed the puppet and its movements because that was done perfectly. Because he is so adorable, its easy for us to connect with the Mandalorian's protective instinct and therefore develop a connection with him. Also, the scale and scope of the show is impressive. We get different environments, big fight set pieces, and lots of different creatures, all movie quality or at least close to movie quality. The only wonky SFX moment is Luke's appearance at the end of season 2. Initially its impressive, but the blank expression on his face makes the CGI more noticeable especially given the scene pans between Pedro Pascal's face and Hamill's CGI face and there is distinct difference.

The show is pretty thin on plot. There is not much to it. Season 1 is the Mandalorian going from place to place to protect Grogu from hunters until he encounters Moss Gideon by season end, and season 2 is the Mandalorian going from place to place to find the Jedi so that he can return Grogu to them while he is pursued by Gideon. There's not really much else to the show so far. Its basically all about individual adventures he has each episode and the characters he meets with and interacts with. There is a bit of repetitiveness to it that does get a bit tiring. But mostly the show is able to give enough interesting characters and big action set pieces to feel fairly involved. Where the show gets into a bit of problem for me is in season 2 where it takes the audience's knowledge for granted. Season 1 feels like its own thing for the most part. It doesn't feel like you need to know anything or anyone else from the Star Wars universe other than what is introduced. Not completely the case with season 2. I accept that this is a "me" problem, but I was lost when they introduced Ahsoka Tano until I later read who she was. For an outsider, that episode reads like a pure spinoff setup because nothing happens in the episode from the perspective of the Mandalorian. I don't know who Thrax is so I have no idea what Ahsoka is hunting. Mando goes looking for a Jedi, and then he is pointed to yet another location where he might find a Jedi. Also, I felt lost regarding Bo-Katan, whose pursuit for Gideon and the dark saber is an important part, but unless you know who Bo-Katan is from prior source material, you do feel a bit lost as I was until I read up who she was. Nothing against Rosario Dawson and Katie Sackhoff. Both are excellent but the show clearly expects that the audience already knows and cares about these characters. Boba Fett I knew from the movies, although I admit I have always found that character's popularity rather funny since he's really not a particularly big part of the OT. How he survives being eaten alive is still a big mystery to me, but not one that bothers me too much.

The performances are all solid. Pedro Pascal only shows his face 3 times across 2 seasons, but he certainly nails the goodbye scene with Grogu. He does a lot of emoting through his voice even though he is supposed to be this badass warrior. You feel the softening of his voice when he is interacting with Grogu or a few of his friends. It was lovely to see carl Weathers again. He has always had a very likable presence. Gina Carano is pretty good as Cara Dune. Min-Na Wen is always welcome in her couple of appearances. Despite my disconnect with the characters, Rosario Dawson and Katie Sackhoff are excellent in their roles. Giancarlo Esposito is excellent as he always is as Moss Gideon. Timothy Olyphant shows up for an episode. Michael Biehn is also in an episode. Billy Burke shows up for a couple of episodes and does a nice job, particularly in the season 2 episode. Nobody here is winning any emmys but all the actors are doing a strong job.

In the end, the first 2 seasons are enjoyable but not necessary a show that I have loved. Good but not great seems appropriate. I'm sure more hardcore Star Wars fans would get a lot more out of it. What the show does have is heart and the central relationship between Mando and Grogu really works. Which also makes me wonder what the show will be moving forward. I think it was a bold, but correct move, to seemingly end the story of Grogu. There is only so long you can do Mando carrying around Grogu from place to place. But what is the Mandalorian going to do now. I assume this will connect with Bo-Katan and the fight to restore the planet of Mandalore and the complication that arises since Mando is the owner of the Dark Saber by defeating Gideon. I guess we will see when it comes out. Overall, the show is about a 7.5/10.

[k-thequeen-writings]

Fandom Quest ch 8 (long!)

                                                  SKOMO Quest

*Dean Winchester's voice* previously on, "Fandom Quest"...

"Kyoya, my boy! Good to see ya. Are you done with the portal yet?" The girl bounced on her heels as she came into the lab, the young dragon right beside her. It chirped as if it had repeated the question.

As soon as Kyoya heard her voice, a headache began to form, but he powered through and gave her a small grin; she was his boss after all. Though she wasn't as bad as others he knew, she could give them a run for their money. "Welcome back, Sergeant Major. As a matter of fact, I finished this morning." He straightened his posture, a bit proud of his achievement.

She gasped and stared with wide eyes, glancing between the portal and Kyoya. "You're serious?" she screeched.

"Very."

Katy's happy-go-lucky attitude quickly shifted into something serious and her eyes darkened as she eyed the portal across the room. "Fantastic. Get it up and running."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Katy hummed and stared at the screen linked to the portal. The readings were steady. She grinned and jumped up and down. They had a fully functioning portal! The scientific team behind her cheered and gave high fives to their teammates in celebration. The time and money spent on the project hadn't gone to waste so far!

"Okay," she said, "Time for the test run."

A scientist handed her a teddy bear with a cable attached to it. There would be no telling what would happen if they sent a live specimen through, so animal and human testing wouldn't start until later. It would only happen if they could toss something through and retrieve it with no problems. Of course, with any new project, it would take many trials to get close to sending animals. Katy wasn't the type of person to experiment with living creatures unless she was one hundred percent sure they would come back whole and unharmed.

Hestia crooned worriedly at the teddy bear. She thought they had gotten that for her. Katy smiled and patted the dragon in sympathy.

"You can have this if it comes back whole, deal?" she asked. The dragon nodded and walked away, drawn off by a low hanging wire. Katy cleared her throat and addressed her team of scientists. "Ladies and gentlemen this is a historic day for science. A lot of time and effort has been put into this and well... I'm terrible at speeches. So how about we all just toss this thing in and get it over with, eh?"

The scientists whooped and hollered, Kyoya rolled his eyes but he did smile. Katy turned around and walked closer to the portal, grin firmly in place. A crash sounded and she turned around in alarm. Hestia was tangled in wires and panicking. The dragon jumped and its feet were unbalanced. Then like a rock, the dragon fell to the floor.

Whatever beam had been holding the wire up snapped and came arcing down to Katy.

"Oh shit," was all she said before she was flung into the portal via large metal beam.

Katy was gone in the swirling of blues, greens, and purples and the scientific team gasped and rushed forward. Hestia tried to follow but with the wires wrapped around her body, she could only wriggle. But that wriggling was enough to finish the beam and it fell from the roof; creating a huge dent in the top of the portal. The portal sparked and sputtered before finally shutting off, losing its glow. Kyoya wiped away fallen dust from the computer screen and typed in commands to reboot the computer. The screen lit up and reported the reading up until the portal went out, including the destination and whether or not it was successful. He sighed in relief.

"She made it through!" he called out.

But there was no celebratory hurray from the team. Their leader was missing in a faraway land and they wouldn't be able to retrieve her until they fixed the portal. That would take months to do and there was no telling if the world Katy landed on was habitable or not. Not to mention the time difference. It could be 10,000 B.C. where she was or perhaps 1940, and there was also the off chance that the other world moved at a different pace than their own. It would be like saying one day in Othos was fifteen there, or vice versa.

While scientists and dragon panicked on one side of the portal, Katy watched as blue and green flew by and she was flung through what may or may not have been a time vortex or black hole. Then suddenly she was staring at a blue sky and it was hot. Katy groaned and rolled over, taking note of the white bricks that created pillars and walls. They were in ruins however so she assumed she was in an ancient city. She stared up at the cloudless sky, then the ruins, and then the ground that had sand showing through where the bricks weren't.

"Well, this isn't where I wanted to go. I was sure I was headed to the forest, not the desert. That's a problem," she noted mildly.

She shrugged and stood up so she could brush herself off. They could fix that problem with a little bit of calibration. A single look at her watch told her the coordinates of her location and they were inverted to where she had wanted to go. They'd have to fix that too. At the moment, she decided to take a look around.

The city was destroyed and was, as far as she could tell, ancient. There were no habitants, not that she expected any. The occasional lizard passed her by and at one point Katy was sure she'd seen the one with the blue underbelly twice. Eventually, she made her way to what was more than likely the capital, given the size of the ruins and how it was at the center of the city. And then she saw it.

A large incomplete circle was drawn into a wall. Three suns made up part of the circle and lines were drawn to each of them. Writing was etched in and around the circle. Something clicked in her mind and Katy took a step back from the wall. She stared at the ruins in horror as she pieced it together. She knew very well where she was.

"This is definitely not Ferelden," Katy pinched the bridge of her nose in a desperate, and failed, attempt to rid herself of the headache.

The blistering sun beat down on her as she trudged through the desert sand in, what she hoped, was the direction of Amestris. Katy fiddled with her watch to try and get in contact with Kyoya. The watch beeped.

"Kyoya, can you hear me?" The static sound was barely heard over officers freaking out about the mishap. Luckily, when the beam broke the portal it didn't take out communications, entirely anyway.

Kyoya shushed the scientific team and pressed the green blinking button to return his voice. "Katy is that you? Can you hear me? Over."

Katy sighed and ran a hand through her blonde locks. "Yeah, I read you, over."

"Are you okay? Did you sustain any injuries? Over."

"I'm fine so the portal succeeded in taking me somewhere. Except this isn't where I wanted to go. Over."

"Pardon? You say the portal made a mistake? Over?"

"More like we did. The coordinates I'm showing are inverted compared to what I put in. Thankfully I know this place, relatively anyway. Over."

Kyoya sighed and nodded. Her tone when she mentioned knowing the world hadn't sounded too optimistic. "Where are you, over?"

"First I must admit that I didn't see this one coming, not in a million years." Katy groaned at the hot sun and huffed as she climbed the next sand dune. "I landed in the ruins of Xerxes, are you familiar with the name? Over."

"I'm afraid not, over."

"Well it's like this; I am now in the land of Hiromu Arakawa. Also known as Fullmetal Alchemist. Over." There was silence and Katy paused her walking. "Kyoya, can you hear me?"

"I read you just fine Katy. Are you sure there isn't some mistake?" Kyoya asked, trying his best not to pull his hair out due to stress.

"I don't think so. Not with those ruins and transmutation circles." She hesitated a moment but continued on. "You're not gonna like this, but I can't go back to you guys just yet. There's something here I need to do in the future of this world and you still need to fix the portal so we can test if it can return people."

Another scientist shoved Kyoya away from the mic and took her turn speaking. "Katy, it's Christine and I can tell what you're thinking. Those events may be happening years into the future or they may have already happened, there's no telling until you get there!

Katy rolled her eyes but she nodded. "I can see your point Hange-"

"That's not my name!"

"- and while it is very valid, I'm going to elect to ignore it. If the events haven't happened yet then I'll stay here undercover. If it's years into the future then I'll make time speed up here if I have to."

Kyoya and Christine groaned before Kyoya was put back on the mic. "And you're not willing to teleport home like you normally do?"

"No. This is something I have to do guys."

They sighed at the finality in her tone before they nodded. Even universes away that woman was still their leader so while they maintained contact she would remain in charge.

"It'll take months on our part," Kyoya said, trying one last time to persuade her.

"And possibly years here. Don't worry about me guys, I'll be fine. I already have a plan."

They continued talking as Kyoya updated Katy on the damage and what needed to be repaired. With that they also discussed her cover story, Christine having pulled up more information about the place that Katy could use. She committed it to memory and communications were cut off. But not before they set up check-in times and an excuse to Katy's absence.

Throughout the day Katy trudged on in the sand, cursing the sun to hell and back. Somehow she hadn't passed out from heat exhaustion. Only when it became night did Katy internally scream at herself for being stupid enough to walk through a desert when she could go anywhere in the blink of an eye. So instead of continuing on her way in the dark or resting, Katy pulled her strength together and teleported to East City, thankful that she didn't need to see places first to get to them. It did, however, make the journey safer so when she dropped several feet in altitude onto a roof it was only due to the fact that it was a random teleport.

She sighed in relief as the cool concrete soothed the sunburn on the back of her neck and arms. Note to self, remember to travel over deserts only as a last resort.

After Katy hopped down from the rooftop, landing with surprising grace on the street below, she set out to find a place to stay for the night. As she traveled down the street she saw a women's clothing store and changed her clothing to match the style she saw. There, now she didn't look out of place. Her outfit was something a little more clean and appropriate for the setting. Then Katy put her hair in a ponytail, the strands of hair that didn't reach the entire way framed her face.

She nodded in satisfaction before vanishing the conjured body mirror. Three blocks later she happened upon a motel and headed inside. The clerk at the counter raised a judgemental eyebrow at the hour but gave her the room for a reasonable price. Or what seemed like one as she didn't know the exchange rates. Thankfully there was a tip jar sitting out so she could copy the currency. She feigned ignorance and said she was from a different country so the clerk would tell her which was worth what.

On the way up, she noticed a paper in the corner and the date, 1909. So the Ishvalan War had just ended. The night was spent perfecting her cover. She would be from a town in the East but they wouldn't be able to pull up her records because they'd burned in the war. With so many alchemists leaving the military it would be the perfect time for her to show up and take the exam. With no friends or family to speak of there would be no one to question about her existence.

With her past out of the way, Katy focused on appearance and what she would do for the practical part of the exam. The written quiz would come easily and the psychological evaluation would only question what she would do if she passed the exam. Easy peasy. Appearance-wise Katy hoped her attire wouldn't attract too much attention.

The next morning Katy asked the clerk at the desk, who had changed shifts and was now manned by a man, when the State Alchemy exam would be held. Fortunately, the man knew due to his brother being in the military. Unfortunately, it was that day. So with no more than directions to Eastern Command, Katy rushed out the door in a hurry, thankful that it was early enough in the morning that there weren't many people around to see her sprinting.

The men at the gates tried to stop her from getting in but when Katy explained how she was going to take the exam they let her through. Not without looks of confusion and amusement, though. They clearly thought she couldn't do it.

She pursed her lips and marched forward into Eastern Command, determined to make any man who thought they were better than her know their place; she was a goddess after all. Another soldier pointed her to the correct room and she grabbed a quiz and pen on the way in. A lot of looks were shot her way but Katy ignored them and took her seat at the front of the class, daring anyone to glance her way.

Sadly for Katy, the quiz was surprisingly harder than she thought it was going to be. It wasn't that surprising she didn't know who Nicholas Flamel was, she didn't know Amestris' history. The only reason she passed was due to her high scores in writing out the Periodic Table and basic reactions between elements. Her circles were perfect as well so that may have been a huge factor.

As they waited out in the hall for their results, Katy stood off to the side, away from the rest of the recruits. More men shot her looks until she finally snapped at them.

"What?" she barked, folding her arms over her chest.

Most of the men turned away except for one. This man haughtily stalked towards Katy in an attempt to intimidate her but when she didn't move he glared at her. She only raised an eyebrow. The others stood by and watched in interest.

"You should leave now while you can," the stocky man said. "Alchemy is a man's profession, something a girl like you would never understand."

"If you don't back off, you won't have what it takes to be a man, if you catch my drift," Katy replied easily. A few whistles sounded from behind the large man.

The man turned red and glared even harder down at her. Before he could say more a voice interrupted them. "Problem here, ma'am and sir?"

The man turned stiffly to look at the soldier staring him down. He immediately took a step back and shook his head. "No, sir," he ground out. Then he walked away.

Katy rolled her eyes and turned to her savior. "Thank you, but I had it handled."

The soldier laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, but still, men shouldn't pick on others." He fixed the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "So, uh, what are you doing here? Not that it's any of my business."

Katy laughed and leaned against the pillar behind her. Something about this man was familiar. "No, it's fine. I'm here to take the State Alchemy exam. The name's Katy," she held out a hand, "Katy... Erwin."

The soldier took her hand. "Kain Fuery." Katy hid her staring by looking at her boots, feigning a blush. Fuery was one of Mustang's. Maybe she could end up in their team if she was lucky. She could use that advantage to keep an eye on them for the coming future. "You're trying to become a State Alchemist? That's awesome! I have a friend who'd love to have you around, but she doesn't have her own team currently."

Katy frowned in sympathy, "Well that's too bad."

A soldier walked through the doors across the hall and started calling off names one by one. These people would be advancing on to the Psychological Evaluation, the rest would be provided with a train ticket home if needed. The annoying man from earlier shot her a smug look as he was announced to be going on to the next part and left to the room he was directed to.

"Katy..." the soldier tailed off and squinted at the writing. He looked up and the remaining people and singled her out. "I have no idea what this says but you're obviously the only 'Katy' here so you're on to the next part." The man turned back to the list.

"It's Erwin," she said. "Sorry about the handwriting." The soldier nodded and scribbled it down with only a question on how to spell it. He went on with only two more names.

Fuery smiled, "Wow! Looks like you're advancing." He gasped as he remembered his duties. "Oh! I have to go, I apologize. Good luck!" Fuery booked it down the hall and was gone in seconds.

"Thanks! I guess!" Katy called after him.

Then she shrugged and made her way into the next room. The rude man looked at her in surprise, as did the rest of the men. Without looking closely Katy could count that only ten of them were left, including herself. The men were watching her closely, one, in particular, wishing her failure.

One by one, people were called in for an interview. Finally, she was called in. Katy stepped into the dark room, her steps echoing in the chamber. There, under the light, was the golden chair standing on only three legs tethered to a transmutation circle on the ground. She ignored the circle and focused on the chair. It would be the thing deciding if she had an aptitude for alchemy. It was only when you had an understanding of balance, equivalent exchange, that you could sit on the chair without fail.

Katy took a breath and sat in the chair. It didn't waver, not even a centimeter. She sighed in relief and a voice sounded from in front of her, an area she couldn't see. It wasn't illuminated at all.

"Why are you here?"

Caribbean green eyes stared ahead and fixed themselves on an invisible object. "There's someone that I need to look out for, and I believe the military would be my best choice."

"Why become a State Alchemist rather than a regular soldier."

"Alchemy is what I do best. I figured I could help more people with alchemy rather than guns."

"'Alchemist, be thou for the people' is it?"

Katy shook her head. "No. It's more equivalent exchange. I would use whatever resources are given to me to help protect the ones I care about. In turn, they will protect the ones they care about, and so on."

There was silence for a moment until the man's voice sounded again.

"You would be serving under the military. Obedience is required when joining the military. Can you guarantee this to your service?"

"If obedience is the price I must pay for the protection of me and mine, then I will gladly pay it."

Thirty minutes later she was standing outside the room. The rest of her group had gone in and the verdict had been decided. Only five of them would be advancing, anyone who wouldn't be was sent home. The practical would be starting the next day so they were all advised to take the night off and prepare.

The night was spent tailoring her outfit for the last part of the exam, the Practical. She knew what she'd be doing, and it may get her kicked from Eastern Headquarters altogether. If she succeeded, however, there wouldn't be any reason to not accept her.

She made her way back to H.Q. the next morning, waving at the soldiers who stopped her the day before. They stared at her curiously but let her go on her way. Katy joined up with the other four, barely glancing at the large man from before. The other men showed surprise at her arrival and shot looks between the two, but otherwise left her alone. That didn't mean they didn't glance at her, more than likely due to her outfit.

Katy wore a blue jacket that came just below her chest, the sleeves ending just above elbow height. A light blue t-shirt was worn beneath it and ended inches below the elbow. Her forearms were covered in grey arm guards which led down to her wrists and to the black fingerless gloves. Only her thumb and middle finger were covered by the black material, a silvery substance coated her middle fingers covering while her thumb had a slight rough edge to it. A blue transmutation circle was seen into the back of the glove. Grey leggings covered her legs, while more leathery material guarded her shins and waist. Black boots covered her feet and a thin blue sash was tied around her waist to complete the ensemble.

The group was led into a large field with trees, a small pond, a glacier, and boulders littering the far area. Clouds blocked the sun, signaling that it may rain soon.

"These materials are free to use in the final of the State Alchemy Examination," the soldier said, points at the objects. It made sense to use the earth, wood, water, and ice to create what they wanted. "Any damages are expected to be repaired. Begin!"

Four of the five set off to the materials, chalk in hand. Katy stayed where she was and surveyed the land. Then she walked forward, passing all the men, and climbed a tree before promptly sitting on one of the lower branches. The bored look on her face enraged one man and gained her curious looks from the judges/Generals and a few competitors.

One of the Generals walked forward, an eyebrow raised. "Do you plan on creating something miss?" he asked.

Katy shook her head and pointed to the other four who were doing their own things. "I'm waiting for them to finish so I may ask for a request."

"'A request'?" the old man repeated.

Is there an echo out here? Katy thought. "Yes. I wish to demonstrate my alchemy by combat."

"Your alchemy you say?" The man brought a hand under his chin, intrigued with the woman in the tree. He caught sight of the blue circles on her gloves and grinned. "If you promise a good show, I'll personally send my niece down here with her superior. He's a good alchemist."

Katy grinned, "Sure. If you think he can beat me."

The old man laughed and walked away, grin set firmly on his face. He waved a soldier over and then sent them off within a minute. Katy turned back to her group and noticed the works. One man had created a small army, maybe five or six, of bears. The detail was good but the man was out of breath after his transmutation. The second man created an ice sculpture of... something. Katy wasn't sure what it was and she didn't think the Generals knew either. The third man, who had officially been dubbed Jackass for the occasion, had only just finished his circle. Obviously, Jackass had been watching the second man because he too created a statue, only that time it was made of rock and one could clearly see it was a king sitting on his throne. Grudgingly, Katy had to admit that he had a bit of talent with rocks. The fourth man finished his transmutation by heating up sand to create glass and using it to create a large dam. The detail was amazing and the man wasn't tired at all.

The soldier came back just as the dam was finished. He was flanked by two people. Katy hopped down from the tree and made her way over to the Generals, specifically the old man and the two new people. Katy grinned internally, they were just who she wanted to see.

"... and this here is the lovely lady who requested a combat test," the old man finished, waving a hand over to Katy.

Katy smiled sweetly and held out her hand. "Katy Erwin, nice to have you here. It'd really be helpful if you'd dual me with your alchemy."

There was silence as both processed her words. Then the man smiled and took her hand, "Roy Mustang, a pleasure. This is my Warrant Officer, Riza Hawkeye." He motioned to the woman with the short, blonde hair to his right. Katy shook her hand as well. "I must admit I did not expect this when I came here. Are you sure you want to dual with alchemy?"

Roy looked unsure. Katy wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid of hurting her or something else. She nodded.

"Absolutely!"

The old man grinned and clapped his hands, "Excellent!"

The four men in her group must've seen what was going on and they scampered off to the sidelines. The Generals looked on in interest and Hawkeye was shaking her head. Katy didn't know if it was at Mustang, the old man, or her. But she took up residence in the field, twenty meters away from Mustang.

The opponents each held a hand free, ready to make a move. One hand was behind Katy's back, tilted ever so slightly that Mustang couldn't see the circle. One of Mustang's hands were inside a pocket. There was silence.

"3... 2... 1..." the old man intoned. He tossed a chunk of ice in the air and Hawkeye shot it.

They snapped.

Red flame met blue and they collided, canceling one another out. Katy allowed Mustang the moment of shock before she snapped again, running toward the man. Roy reacted quickly and sent off his own flames. This time the blue went out and Katy dived to the side, sliding behind a large rock in time to avoid the flame. She went to take a step around it but was cut off from both sides, the flames encircled her.

"Does this mean you give up?" Mustang called.

"Not a chance!" Katy yelled back. She turned and faced the boulder, gripping her hands where she could. Then she climbed as fast as she could. She reached the top in a second and dived off, snapping her fingers. A blue halo of fire encircled her and it vanished once more with Roy's flame.

From a distance, Hawkeye gasped. "Did you see that?" she asked.

"I think so," one of the new recruits answered, staring heavily at the fight.

Hawkeye startled as a raindrop fell on her cheek, and then another, and another. She sighed, the fight was over.

"Aw," the old man groaned. "And it was just starting to get good. Too bad the rain had to step in, eh?"

When Katy felt the first raindrop she thought it was water from the melting glaciers. The second one though, that sent a smile to her face. She breathed deeply as the scent of rain hit her nose and sent a grin at Mustang.

"What are you grinning at?" he asked as they circled like vultures.

"Can't you smell it?"

Mustang was confused for a second before he sighed. "So the fight's over now."

Katy's grin widened. "Not until it rains it isn't."

She snapped again and her blue flames met the resistance of Mustang's. Eventually, he continued to drive her back toward the entrance of the arena, cornering her. It was then that the rain poured down. Mustang grimaced and sighed as the Generals, recruits, and Hawkeye started toward them.

"So that's that then," he said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Katy intoned. Her other hand was brought forward and she snapped both sets of fingers. "I have the high ground."

Twin flames rested on her palms and Katy grinned at Mustang who stared in astonishment. Her flames weren't going out. The fires became brighter and Mustang had to take a step back. Lightning flashed and everyone paused at the image behind Katy.

"You have to say you lost, Mustang." There was silence from him and the group. Katy frowned and lightning flashed multiple times, almost coinciding with her action. "My flames work in the rain, yours don't. I win."

Mustang sighed in frustration and nodded, "Fine, you win." The flames dissipated and Katy grinned, sending a shiver down his spine at the almost malicious feel. Then Katy was skipping through the doors to await her results. "Surely that wasn't natural. Hawkeye, you saw that too, correct?"

"I did, sir."

"And what did you see?"

Katy Erwin's dark grin. Blue flames that threatened to destroy whatever came in contact with it. The light of the flames illuminating something as the two dueled. The lightning providing a clear shadow of feathered wings at Katy Erwin's back.

"Wings," she replied simply.

A recruit yawned as they walked back into H.Q.. "I don't see what you're all spooked about, no offense. Honestly, it was probably burn marks from the flames or paint."

"But when would she have time to paint?" another asked.

The first one shrugged, "No clue. And if she couldn't paint then it was just burn marks. She just needed to get over to the door so we could see them for dramatic effect. Mystery solved."

The old man grinned and nodded. "Heh heh," he chuckled, running a hand through his short beard. "I guess so. And the little lady did come through with an entertaining fight."

Four days later Katy was called back to H.Q. to receive her State Alchemist watch and codename. Apparently, she'd made quite an impression on the Generals. The watch had her name carved onto the back in small lettering, as all other watches did. The old man personally gave her the watch and her name.

"So what's my name then? If it's something girly I'll be gone," Katy laughed. She was completely serious. "First female State Alchemist or no."

The old man grinned and handed her a folder. "Why don't you find out."

Katy took the folder and scanned the document inside quickly, lips moving to the words. She paused and grinned. "Awesome."

The old man laughed, "Yes, I thought you would appreciate it. Now tell me, Blue Devil, are you ready for your future?"

"As I'll ever be."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Katy tapped her foot and scowled as she waited for her commanding officer to finish his meeting with the rest of the senior staff. Apparently, she'd done too many things once again that challenged her C.O. and now she was being let go. She shifted against the cold seat in Central Command.

"I have had it with her!" his booming voice came from the other side of the door. "One of you have to take her!"

"You think we want that demon spawn in our teams?" another voice asked. "She was with me last time and last I remembered, Erwin doesn't listen to me! Let's not forget her mouthy tendencies."

Katy snorted, thinking back to the time he told her to 'stay' and she responded with: "Do I look like a damn dog to you? Do I have a tail sticking out of my ass? I may be a dog of the military but I don't respond to animal commands."

Her C.O. had stared at her. "You'll sit and stay like the dog you are."

She punched him for that, which led her up to the moment she was currently in. She sighed and stretched; they'd been going at it for almost two hours. No one wanted her on their team because she was described as unstable among other things.

"I'll take her."

The smile instantly slid off Katy’s face as she looked towards the door. She was baffled that someone was willing to take her on their team. They must be ballsy or they just haven’t heard the stories about her. The other officers apparently thought the same.

"Come again?"

"I'll take on Erwin." The voice was soft and distinctly female. "Major or not she needs a commanding officer."

"You're digging yourself a grave with that one, Wilson. You're brand new to dealing with teams."

Katy raised an eyebrow. Wilson was the name?

"Doesn't matter. I'll be taking her on."

The door opened and several men stepped through, followed by a woman. Katy’s eyes landed on the woman, giving her a once over. Black hair, dark green eyes, obviously someone from the senior staff if she was allowed a team. She also noticed she was a few inches taller than Wilson. The name didn’t sound familiar and her looks were too detailed, too much thought was put into her. Was she just another background character? 

“Hey, Wilson. I’m Katy, nice to meet you,” Katy stood and held her hand out to shake Wilson’s hand, giving her a smile. 

Wilson smiled up at Katy and returned the handshake, “I’ve heard. I’ve also heard you have a particularly long rebellious streak.” Wilson let go of Katy’s hand. “From now on you’ll be working under me. One upside of being transferred to my team is that you don’t have to move; I’m stationed here in Central.”

Katy frowned, “Yeah, I guess.”

Arguing. That was all they did. The rest of the team found it amusing most days as it was a source of entertainment for them. Katy found out Wilson wasn’t her commanding officer’s first name when Jack, one of her new teammates asked her why she referred to Wilson with her last name. 

When asked why Katy didn’t know her first name Wilson smiled and said, “It’s just because you didn’t ask. My name is Aiden.”

Katy expected to be reprimanded when she kept on using Aiden’s first name rather than her last, but no such thing happened. When she went off on her own to do her own thing she expected to be yelled at and put in line. That didn’t happen either. It became apparent that Aiden’s team was rather lax in enforcing certain rules and keeping soldiers in line. 

“I just don’t see any reason to order someone to do something when I can ask them instead,” Aiden said while scribbling something down on a sheet of paper. “If you want to research something then go ahead, I won’t stop you. Just make sure you can pass your yearly assessment when it comes around. And when I need you I’ll expect you to be there. Is that understood?”

After that, the two almost never fought, the atmosphere of the office becoming a lot more peaceful. Of course, even with Katy’s quiet persona, her quick-witted responses and sarcastic demeanor never let the time in the office be spent in silence for too long. Aiden herself rather enjoyed their spats and the two began to spend more time together. They got together like a house on fire - which was sometimes bad for those they didn’t favor.

Two months passed by and Aiden held the record for how long Katy was under one person’s command. Much to her surprise, Maes Hughes dropped by and talked a lot with Aiden and the two seemed like close friends. According to the woman, they’d known one another since the Ishvalan War. He easily welcomed Katy into Aiden’s team, even though it wasn’t his place to do so, and her fate was sealed when she didn’t push away his pictures. Katy and Aiden were the top targets when Maes had a new photo.

Even after weeks of nonstop pictures, Katy didn’t seem to mind the things, and she really didn’t. In fact, she loved them and gave Maes ideas on how to snap better pictures. After that, the man started to commandeer Katy to his team. Aiden had to repeatedly tell Maes that Katy was her subordinate, not his. He retaliated by almost kidnapping the two of them when he wanted their help in a case.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Eastern? Why the hell are we going to the East?” Katy scowled, following Aiden out into town since they both lived fairly close to one another. Suddenly Katy remembered: that’s where Roy Mustang and the Elric brothers were. “Wait, isn’t the Flame Alchemist in Eastern?” 

“You’re right on the money, Erwin. Who told you?” 

She shrugged, straightening her figure, “Wild guess.” 

“Well, I’m wildly guessing that you know something I don’t.” Aiden paused to stare at a stall of fruit. She purchased a couple apples and handed one to Katy. “Anyway, there’s a case we’re being called to. Some kind of murder and the Eastern teams can’t figure it out, so they called us in. It happens more times than you would think.”

She, Aiden, and Maes met later at the train station, all three headed to the same destination with a long ride ahead of them. Aiden had advised Katy to pack about a weeks worth of clothes and then the necessities. She did as asked and boarded the train with the other two. The rest of the teams weren’t going due to housing issues in the East and they were left with instructions to not burn Central Command down while they were gone. Katy had only left the note as a joke.

The two days it took to get to the East took a toll on Aiden’s mental health. Katy had spent much of the time making random noises, repeating phrases, and mocking Aiden when she’d been told to shut up. Once the train had made its final stop in Eastern, Katy was the first one off and cheering like she had just won first place in a contest. With a snap of her fingers, she spelled the word ‘freedom’ with her flames in the air, all while chanting the same word and dancing; which drew some attention. 

Maes watched amusedly as the two women bickered back and forth as they walked toward Eastern Command. He wouldn’t be so chipper if he had to sit with her during the nights, Aiden thought bitterly. They paid no mind to their baggage, which would be taken and sent to their rooms.

“Come on guys,” he grinned. “We’re all about to go to work. Act civilized please.”

They looked at the man with matching stares. 

“We’re perfectly civilized,” Katy said.

“Everyone else is just uncivilized,” Aiden finished, nodding her head.

“It could be worse-”

“Yes it could-”

“But we know-”

“When to call it quits. Don’t we Katy?”

“Of course we do.”

They’d stopped walking and Maes was staring at them with a grimace. He glanced between the two and waited for more words. When none came he sighed. “Has anyone ever told you, you are creepy?”

The two women shrugged and resumed walking. “Not really,” Katy said. “But you should be proud of us. We’ve been practicing that for a while.” Aiden hummed in agreement and jogged up the steps leading into Eastern Command.

The three spent the day talking to the investigative teams and reading over any information they’d gathered. It wasn’t much, but Maes had been able to identify a lead. The baker across the street from where it had happened hadn’t made a report of anything happening on the night of the murder and the investigators hadn’t asked. That earned a stern lecture from Aiden about the importance of casing the area and talking to the people who may or may not have been present at the time.

The chatter at Mustang’s table in the mess hall came to a halt as Katy busted through the doors, a large smile on her face. “Mustang! Long-time no see!” She rushed over, throwing an arm around the man’s shoulders, “Mind if we join y’all for dinner?” 

Y’all? Who the hell says that in a place like this, he thought. “Yes, actually-”

“Great!” She made herself comfortable next to Hawkeye, Mustang’s Lieutenant, and instantly struck up a conversation with the woman. 

Aiden simply sat down on one of the seats and sighed tiredly. In followed Maes who collapsed in the opposite seat. It had been an excruciatingly long day for the pair; dead leads, uncooperative suspects, and plenty of files to read.

“Long day?” Mustang asked.

“I’ve had better,” they chimed.

Barely twenty minutes into the meal, Katy’s eyes suddenly darkened as she pushed herself away from the table and started walking towards the doors without an explanation as to where she was headed. Both Aiden and Maes caught a glimpse of her face and she seemed livid. Maes sent Aiden a questioning look but all she could do was shrug.

Katy stormed out of Eastern Command and stood in the nearest telephone booth. “Kyoya! Why the hell are you calling me earlier than our scheduled time? I almost blew my cover!” the woman yelled through the payphone. Her voice wasn’t the usual cheerful tone, but a dark, spine chilling one. 

“I apologize ma’am, but there is something important that I need to inform you about.” 

“Cat got your tongue? Tell me!” 

“The Weasley twins were out of a few items needed to fix the portal. They said to expect a two-month delay.” 

Katy groaned in frustration, her grip tightening around the phone, leaving a small crack. “That isn’t acceptable, Kyoya. Tell them if they don’t have it in two weeks time, I’ll skin them alive, literally.” 

“But ma’am-”

“I don’t have time for this!” she screamed, her blue flames circling the booth as she slammed her fist against the glass door. The glass cracked in a spiderweb formation and blood dripped from her knuckles. Hissing from the pain, she finally took a breath to calm herself. “I need to get back home, Kyoya. I have something important going on soon that I can’t miss, but I want this taken care of before I leave, so please… just do it.” 

“Understood, ma’am. Although you must realize that we won’t be able to finish for at least a month, even with the parts.” 

“Yeah, I know. But you need the parts for the next step, so one month is better than three or more.

“I will inform the brothers of your request. Until they respond we will continue with the original contact schedule.”

“Agreed.” Katy hung up and sighed once more, resting her forehead against the cool glass. Three or so months left in the other world to get home. A few years left here until she had to save Maes from Envy. She could do it, it was nothing compared to her hundreds of years as a god once before. Except… last time she could visit whoever, whenever she wanted. 

The woman glared up at the shining lights of Eastern Command. No, she’d be fine! She looked at the shattered glass and her bleeding hand before restoring them to the undamaged selves they’d been only minutes ago.

The mess hall was still mostly empty when she got back to her seat. Her commanding officer glanced up from her food, “What was that all about? You looked like Hell on wheels.”

“Sorry, Aiden but it is none of your concern.” The girl grabbed her bread roll and walked back toward the doors, waving bye to the group as she left to get some rest. 

“Uh, okay then.” Aiden looked back at her friends and shook her head at their silent questions. “I have no idea guys.”

The next morning Katy was on better terms with the world, if one could call singing ‘better terms’. No one from either team considered singing about a murder to be a good thing, but it was a good wake up call for those who were low on power. Poor Kain Fuery was startled from his chair when she burst in.

“Can’t you control your subordinate?” Mustang ground out irritably.

Aiden rubbed her forehead to try and keep the early morning headache at bay. “There would be no point, she’d still do things rather than say them.” She took a sip of the terrible coffee the East provided. “I think we’d all agree when I say that having that one singing about murder is better than her actually committing the crime. I wouldn’t put it past her to know how.”

“Especially if she’s your subordinate,” Jean nodded, speaking up from beside Aiden. He sat across from Hawkeye who was next to Mustang. “Remember that case you set up a year ago that you actually got away with? Let’s hope she’s not taking any queues from you.”

When their attention was back on Katy, she was nowhere to be seen and the room was quiet for a moment. “You’d be smart to not put murder past me, Aiden,” she whispered in her commanding officer’s ear, giving a glare to Jean. “Wanna know how I’d do it?” 

Aiden jolted to the side and glared at the floor before giving a sidelong look at Mustang as if to say, ‘You see what I mean?’ On the other side of Katy, Jean leaned away from the woman with a cautious stare. “Sure, I’m curious.” He didn’t catch Aiden’s look over her shoulder that obviously told him his answer was the wrong one.

Katy stared at the man, a bit surprised by his answer. A grin slipped on her face and the dark aura surrounding Katy disappeared. “Okay! So-” she hopped up on the table, facing Aiden and Jean with her legs crossed, back towards Riza and Roy. “Books teach me useful things, ya know. For instance, did you know that if you electrocute someone while holding them underwater, it’ll leave no burn marks on the body?” With the dark aura surrounding her once again, and the grin now creepy instead of sweet, she crossed her arms over her chest and laid back on the table, looking to Roy and Riza. “Isn’t that interesting, Roy?” 

Mustang looked a bit unsettled with the grin, stare, and random fact the woman had just shared. Riza calmly sipped her coffee and nodded thoughtfully at the piece of information. She’d moved their food to the side before Katy had the chance to lay in it. Aiden was shaking her head and even Maes was unsettled, while Jean lightly shivered at the woman before him. She turned her head and creepily stared down at the man. Jean gulped.

**********

The meal ended quickly after that and the teams were sent home. The next day Katy was walking back to Eastern Command and stopped for a drink at a store when military police suddenly surrounded the place. A confused look was shared between all of the customers, all three of them.

“Come on out, Jenkins!” one man shouted. “We have you surrounded, you have nowhere to run!”

Jenkins? Wasn’t that the name of the kidnapper from the West who stole away kids and sold them for profit? Katy looked over the shelves and didn’t find the man in question. There was, however, a teen who looked remarkably like the criminal. Oh, it was a classic case of mistaken identity. She moved over to him.

“They mean you,” she said.

“Huh? What? Who are you? Why do they want me?” the teen asked.

“You look like a criminal from the West, but you don’t have blond hair.” She nodded towards his very black hair. “Just go out and explain that you’re not him. They should be able to see that.”

The teen took in her military uniform. “U-Uh, okay. If you say so.” He walked to the entrance with his hands up and proceeded outside. “Uh, hi. My name’s Orion Webber, I’m not the guy from the West.”

“Ha! Like we’ll believe that. Anyone can dye their hair and say a name,” another officer voiced.

Orion looked over his shoulder helplessly at Katy who groaned at the stupidity of the military police. Katy vaulted over a low rack of store items and rushed to the aid of the young man. She held her hands out in front of her and glared at the MPs. A deep breath, “Don’t shoot dickheads!”

There was a stunned silence from the people around her. The officers took in her blue military uniform and the stripes on her shoulders. What on earth was a Major doing protecting a criminal? One of the officers gasped.

“She’s a State Alchemist!” he cried, pointing at the silver pocket watch in one of her hands.

“A female State Alchemist?” 

“That must mean…”

Katy grinned and pointed at her chest. “That’s right, boys. I’m the Blue Devil Alchemist, Katy Erwin.”

The soldiers immediately lowered their guns and saluted their superior. “We’re sorry ma’am! We didn’t know you were a State Alchemist!”

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest, glaring at the men. “You morons! You couldn’t tell that this kid was too young to be Jenkins? He doesn’t even look old enough to grow a full mustache! You should know by the pictures we have of him that he’s blond and had a full-on goatee.”

Orion was a little offended at the statement but he kept silent. The MPs and Katy talked more and eventually, he was sent home with a formal apology from the MPs and a small smile from the alchemist. He made sure to thank her before he left and told her that he was going to tell his little sister about meeting her, as his sister was one of Katy’s biggest fans. Katy gave a stern lecture to the military police about fact-checking and using common sense before trying to arrest an innocent.

By the time she made it to headquarters, she was a full hour behind schedule. She burst into the room and took up her seat almost a second later before her head dropped onto her desk with an audible thunk.

Aiden raised an eyebrow from her own place and Maes set a cup of coffee in front of her. “Should we even ask or will I get paperwork on it?”

“Paperwork, sorry.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting in her office, Aiden was staring down Katy. Aiden could never figure her out; there were inconsistencies in every report regarding Katy. One would say that she interviewed a criminal at three in the afternoon while another said she rescued a kitten out of a tree roughly at the same time, across the city. When more and more of the inconsistencies kept popping up Aiden did her best to cover them up and research as far and wide as possible to see how far back it went.

Everything started just after the Ishvalan War ended and Katy was assigned her first superior officer. As one could guess, Katy being in two places at once was never looked at, as there would have been a file for Aiden to look through. So she was the first. The only explanation Aiden could come up with was that Katy was a homunculus. The chances of Katy being with Father and the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins was rather low, but she didn't want to take any chances. There was no telling just who made her, and with Katy being in two places at once it was obvious that Katy could duplicate herself. Aiden refused to believe that Katy could time travel.

So with a new homunculus around with an unknown agenda, Aiden wanted her gone until the thing with Maes came and went. There was no chance of her taking 'no' for an answer. Katy was a wild card in her plans.

"I have to stay!" Katy argued, glaring at her superior.

They'd been going at it for a while, the rest of her subordinates were sitting at their desks and doing their best to ignore them. Aiden asked Katy to go with the Elric's but Katy kept on refusing. She wouldn't answer why and then the argument escalated into a shouting match that had Jack thankful for the thick walls.

"For what?" Aiden shouted back. "What could you possibly need to stay for?"

Katy gave a frustrated sigh and paced the area in front of Aiden's desk. "I said I can't tell you."

"Well until you can I expect you to be on that train."

"Why can't I-"

"Major Katy Erwin I am formally ordering you, as your commanding officer, to board the train headed for Rush Valley. You will serve as protection for the Fullmetal Alchemist, his brother, and their friend. Do I make myself clear?" Aiden growled.

Out of their field of vision, Aiden's subordinates tensed and stared in shock. Aiden had never once given a formal order to any of them. She would only ever ask them to do their jobs and take care of themselves so they didn't work their minds and bodies to death. They knew she hated pulling rank even on new recruits with attitude. For Aiden to do so with one of her friends... it was unthinkable!

Katy pursed her lips and glared furiously at her commanding officer. "Yes. Ma'am," she said through clenched teeth. Then Katy turned and stormed out the door.

The woman grumbled words of anger as she stormed down the sidewalk headed to her home. “Why now, of all times does she have to order me to do something! She never orders me around, at least formally!” Stopping in front of Aiden’s apartment building, which was right next to Katy’s, she took a moment to think. Something clicking in her head. “Not possible…” 

Katy checked her surroundings then teleported into her commanding officer’s home, putting her gloves on as she walked around. “If I were her, where would I hide something?” she mumbled while on her hands and knees checking under the couch. “Oh!” she hopped to her feet, going into Aiden’s room. “Somewhere that would be close to me that I wouldn’t have to check every day, and somewhere no one would think to look…” she stood in the doorway, hand over her mouth as she thought of a place to look, her eyes scanning every open space she could see. 

With a small groan of frustration, Katy search through Aiden’s drawers, almost slamming the nightstand drawer closed. When she did the desk hit the wall, making a quiet echo rumble through the wall. “When did you learn alchemy?” she whispered to herself, placing her hands on a section of the wall and making a little door so she could look inside. When she did, she found something wrapped up in a towel, which definitely sparked an interest in the interloper. 

As she unwrapped it on the bed, she could tell that the journal was old, given by the faded pages and worn cover. When she opened it, though, she didn’t find what she was expecting. A love journal, personal secrets, maybe even a family cookbook for some reason or another. Written inside, in English rather than Amestrian, was a bulleted list of all the important dates and events that have happened, and will happen in this world. That was all Katy needed to confirm her suspicion: Aiden was like her. 

In the beginning, Katy had noticed how close Aiden was to Mustang and Maes. At first, she thought it’d been a coincidence, how easily Aiden worked alongside the pair and Mustang’s team. But then she focused on how the woman was in terms of plot. She’d never been mentioned in the manga or the animes. If she had then Aiden would’ve helped Mustang behind the scenes of the coup d’etat at the end of the series and not once had she been mentioned or even thought of. When she heard that Aiden had stepped forward to protect Edward from Scar in East City, right after the Tucker incident, she knew something had to be off. And again when Aiden stepped in when Mustang fought Scar by the river, which never happened. Aiden was obviously misplaced. But a person can’t just show up from nowhere unless they were like Katy!

If Aiden was from her world, and knew about all of these things, she must be planning to stop Maes Hughes’ death! A flip to the end of the journal confirmed her thoughts and Katy grinned. She shouldn’t have doubted her friend after all! Aiden was going to save Maes! After placing everything back where it needed to go and making sure there was no evidence of Katy being there, she teleported to her own apartment and packed for her trip to Rush Valley, meeting the brothers and Winry at the train station not long after. 

It was hard saying goodbye to Maes without fully knowing if Aiden’s plan was going to work or not. But she did her best and gave the man a hug before she left. The train ride to Rush Valley was a long one but it was worth it. Katy and Winry got along well, and Ed found it disturbing how easily Katy was able to tell Winry how to knock a person out with only a wrench and a piece of ice.

Rush Valley itself was nothing special to Katy. The town was full of automail mechanics that wanted to take a look at Ed’s arm and leg and nearly undressed the kid to less than the bare minimum. To make things worse, for everyone else anyway because Katy found it hilarious, Ed’s pocket watch was stolen by Paninya. Katy had wandered off while her three charges chased after the pickpocket, but she caught up to them quickly with drinks in hand.

“Katy!” Ed yelled. “Why didn’t you help us catch her! Winry was the one who got her!”

She sipped her drink and stared impassively at the teen. “I’m your bodyguard, not your maid. Only you can protect yourself against pickpockets in a crowd like that.”

When the rain poured she did her best to help with the delivery of the baby. But even she couldn’t unsee those horrors. “That’s it,” she said, kneeling on the ground. “I’m swearing off children until I’m not suffering from nightmares.” The new parents laughed and nodded in understanding.

Since there were no signs of Scar in Rush Valley, Katy went with the brothers to visit their teacher in Dublith. Though, they warned her beforehand that Izumi wasn’t like normal women. Meeting the woman was… an interesting experience. She’d kicked Edward across the yard and tossed Alphonse onto his back.

“And who are you?” Izumi asked. “A military officer? No, judging by the chain at your waist, you’re the first and only female State Alchemist.” She smiled and held out a hand. “Izumi Curtis, nice to meet you. I’m sorry you’ve had to stick with these boys for so long.”

Katy smiled and shook the woman’s hand. She winked and then pulled an overly fake voice. “Yes, I can’t believe I was saddled with these heathens! Seriously,” she pointed at Edward, “this one snores and he’s short!”

“Who you calling short?! I’ll break down your legs and stick them on your head!”

Katy cracked up laughing and dodged the swing. Suddenly Edward was sent careening out of the yard and into the street. She whistled lowly and turned to Izumi. “Ten points to you, he landed face-first in a bucket.”

“Brother!” Al called, racing after his fallen sibling.

When Alphonse was kidnapped and Edward went after him, Katy went with Izumi to get the troublesome brothers back. She ended up with a few scratches and bloody knuckles. At Izumi’s request, she didn’t use her alchemy to burn the chimeras or Greed. Although she couldn’t use her flames due to being in such a small space. When the military came every soldier showed her respect but they didn’t comply to her orders. Not that she gave any. She knew that with Fuhrer Bradley around they’d only listen to his orders.

She’d met the man once before at a military function. It was a formal event so Katy had to be dressed up to look the part. As the only female State Alchemist, and a new one at that, she was required to attend. Bradley had mentioned how he was intrigued by having a female alchemist in his ranks and he was excited to see what she could do in a crisis. Katy simply smiled and said she’d do her best like any other soldier. He’d laughed and said he admired her determination and loyalty. There wasn’t much to remember after that.

Armstrong met up with Katy just once when he could. He passed along the news that Maes Hughes had been murdered and asked her not to tell the boys. Then he bid her farewell and left back to Central with the rest of Central’s men. The few weeks following was spent making sure Edward and Izumi healed from their injuries. Ed was the difficult child that wouldn’t sit still and Izumi was the same, but Katy didn’t have the guts to say so.

They left from Dublith back to Rush Valley and met Winry at Mister Garfiel’s automail shop. Ling was an interesting character, literally and figuratively. She’d stayed with him when the brothers, Lan Fan, and Foo went off to fight one another. However, when Ling too left she went back to the automail shop to wait for the Xingese group and eventually the brothers and Winry. Watching Edward get smacked with a wrench was more entertaining than she thought it would be.

There were very few threats between the Xingese people and Edward when Katy finally stepped in and shouted at them while she was trying to get some sleep on the damned train. Although, even without their help she wasn’t able to sleep well. She was too worried that perhaps something had indeed gone wrong on Aiden’s mission to save Maes and the man had actually died. There would be no way to tell by the time she had to go home unless she asked her commanding officer directly, which was very unlikely to happen. And to top it off, she had to leave in only a week! Katy groaned and buried her face in her hands.

Being in Central was no better than being on the train. Each step toward her job was another beat her heart skipped. Ling had wandered off yet again and his two servants, in turn, left to find him. Normally she would have turned around and waved up at the man standing on top of the train station, but she wasn’t feeling like it and instead followed the brothers. She almost had a small heart attack passing that dreaded phone booth where Maes was supposed to have died. 

“Oh, hey Hawkeye!” Katy cheered, a bright smile on her face as she tackled her friend in a hug. Luckily, the receiving party balanced herself so she didn’t fall. “How are you? It’s been a while.” 

“Oh I’m fine, thank you. Good to see you too, boys.” 

As Ed starting thinking, Katy heard two distinct pairs of footsteps approach. “Hang on,” Ed stated slowly, “if the Lieutenant’s here then so is…”

“Thanks for waiting for us,” a familiar voice intoned. Edward made a rather good impression of a shark as their commanding officers walked around the corner.

When the officers turned the corner, lo and behold, there stood the brothers and her subordinate. Katy returned Aiden's stare with a raised eyebrow of pure boredom. The woman almost grimaced, she still felt guilty about ordering the alchemist away. 

“Yep, the Colonel,” Ed finished.

Mustang looked at them in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting to see them. “Oh, well hello, Fullmetal.”

“Colonel Mustang, what are you doing here in Central?”

“You didn’t hear? I was transferred to this branch last month.” 

“Great,” Ed said less than enthusiastically.

Aiden sighed and shook her head. “So why are you guys here? I thought you were still in Dublith.”

Edward looked Aiden over quickly. He’d met Greed who said he didn’t work with the rest of the Homunculi, which proved true when Fuhrer Bradley killed him. Ed never had the chance to ask Greed if Aiden was one of them. There was no telling which side she was on or if she was on a side at all. But given how many times she’d helped them, whether it be for her own benefit or not, he’d give her the benefit of the doubt.

“We’re doing a little information gathering. After that, we thought we’d go see Lieutenant Colonel Hughes later today. Where is he anyway?”

“He’s not here,” Aiden said, her face carefully blank. Katy’s eyes watched her closely.

“He retired to the country,” Mustang added, “and took his wife and daughter with him.” Riza stared at her commander in confusion. Why would he lie when they would figure it out later? “He wanted to take over the family business. So, he’s not here.”

The boys looked genuinely saddened to hear that their favorite soldier-friend had left. Katy simply stared at the ground and didn’t try to correct her superior officers. It’d be a harsh thing to do in front of the boys.

“I see. Well, that’s too bad.”

“We were hoping to see him,” Al nodded.

Mustang turned and walked away. He made it only a few steps before he paused, his back still to the boys. “Fullmetal. Watch yourself. Don’t do anything crazy.”

“Hmm? Okay.” He was a bit confused as to why the Colonel of all people would caution him. It wasn’t like the man didn’t, he just tended to tell them after a dangerous event.

The Colonel continued walking and the two women followed behind him. Katy’s eyes narrowed at the trio, glancing down to Ed then back at Aiden as she watched her walk away. 

“Is he alive?” Katy called in English, so no one other than Aiden understood her, since they spoke Amestrian. 

The brothers stared at Katy in confusion and Mustang and Hawkeye paused to look back in confusion. Aiden was rigid under Katy’s stare. She turned and looked back at her subordinate with wide eyes. Then her eyes went blank as her posture became tense.

“I’ll see you two later,” she said to Mustang and Hawkeye. “I need to speak with my subordinate.” Mustang raised an eyebrow at the word ‘subordinate’; Aiden almost always called her officers by their names. Unless they were in trouble.

“Sure.”

Aiden grabbed Katy’s arm and dragged her through the halls and into her personal office. No one on the team got to greet either woman as they passed them too quickly. She closed the door behind them, locked it, and paused to stand behind her desk. Aiden drew her gun and aimed down the barrel at Katy.

“Who the hell are you?” she snarled.

“First, I’d like to apologize for going through your apartment.” Katy held her hands up in defense for a moment before lounging on the couch. “My name is Katy, and I’m from your world, but I got here a little differently than you did, I’m sure.” 

She raised an eyebrow in curiosity but didn’t lower her gun. “You went through my apartment and now you’re saying you’re from my world. Aside from the fact that we speak the same language, there is no proving the fact that we are from the same Earth. As for how I got here… I paid my way via Truth.”

“Well, I came with a portal. As soon as I saw you, I had a feeling you weren’t supposed to be here. Mainly because I never actually saw you in any of the animes. With how close you are to Maes and Roy, you would have been in the series at some point or another.”

Aiden finally lowered her gun. “Okay, fine. We’re both misplaced people of Earth. Answer this: how did you get into my apartment and figure out I was from another world. As far as you could’ve known this may have just been another variation of Fullmetal Alchemist.”

She smirked before disappearing and reappearing in Aiden’s chair. “Like that, miss smarty-pants.” 

“And I thought the ‘Devil’ was just a title,” she stated dryly. 

Katy gasped, a hand on her chest in false shock. “Rude! If anything, I’m a goddess, not a devil! And another thing, I wasn’t exactly ‘misplaced’. My portal wasn’t supposed to go here, it was meant to go to another world. But it’s being fixed and I’ll be leaving in Xerxes, so don’t get your panties in a wad.” 

Yes, Katy was still a smartass. Aiden rolled her eyes and set her gun on the desk. “Don’t be an ass, I’m still your superior in this world. I don’t care if you’re a goddess, a demi-god, or Truth himself. Now answer my question. How’d you figure it out?”

“I saw your journal, period,” she shrugged, grabbing the crackers from her pocket. They were leftover from lunch on the train. “Now, miss Wilson, you never answered my question: is he alive?” 

“You mean to say you deconstructed my wall to look at my stuff,” she corrected. Katy didn’t dispute it and she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She reached into the desk and pulled out a piece of paper before scribbling something on it and handing it to Katy. “I’ll direct you to my cabin in the woods.” Aiden holstered her gun and moved around Katy to exit the office. “Try not to die. We’ll talk later.”

“Oh no worries, I’m basically immortal!” she laughed, giving her friend a wink before walking out of the office and into the team office. She opened the window and jumped out, landing gracefully on the grass. Aiden’s cry of alarm rang out as she peered over the ledge, only to glare at her subordinate who gave her a mild heart attack. When Katy looked through the window next to her, Jean was staring right at her with a roll in his hand. She waved, before running off and teleporting into the cabin and on the dining table. 

Maes screeched and threw his knife into her shoulder. “That’s fair. Good to see ya, Maes!” When she pulled the blade out of her shoulder, it slowly healed. 

Maes pulled out another knife, “Katy, nice to see you. Are you here to kill me too?”

“No Maes, I am-” she stood on the table, arms stretched out at she took a ‘hero’ pose, “your savior!” When Katy looked down at him, a sweatdrop went down his face. “You’re no fun, Maes!” she pouted, jumping down from the table. “I was wanting to save you too, but Aiden thought I was a bad guy so she sent me away with the Elrics, but I’m here now.” 

“So Aiden sent you, you say? Prove it.”

Katy looked at the paper in her hand and took a deep breath. "Fear constant exile thatcher."

There was silence as the man lowered the knife. It was one of the code phrases the pair had come up with in case they’d been found out or in case of an emergency. It was a fail-safe to make sure Envy wasn’t among them. "Attached fruit printers differ. Alright, you have my attention.”

“Well, really I just wanted to say bye because I’ll be leaving. For good, anyhow.” She sounded a bit upset to leave, but there was a look in her eye that said she was ready. 

“I see,” Maes said shortly. “And I suppose Aiden will clear things up for me if I ask?”

Katy nodded. “Yeah, she will. Everything's gonna be over soon, then you can see your girls again, I promise.” She smiled, giving the man a hug. “Oh, and when you see Roy, can you tell him I said he needs to not be a bitch and ask out Aiden? That would be much appreciated.” 

Maes snorted, “Will do.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Katy and Edward were baking under the desert sun. There was a good chance of being able to cook an egg on Ed’s automail in five seconds flat. She cursed her superior officer’s way of sending her to Xerxes, fairly certain it was Aiden’s way of payback. In fact, she was sure she could hear her laughter coming from the sun itself.

She and Ed almost cried in relief when they were submerged in the watering hole. Katy had never felt such sweet relief.

“Who’s idea was it to bring the kid and lady?” Foo asked.

Breda was the one to answer. “It was a direct order.”

The two climbed out of the pool and wrung their clothes in satisfaction. The ruins hadn’t changed any since last she’d been there, not that she expected them to.

“So,” Edward said, looking at the fallen ancient city around him, “this is Xerxes, huh? Looks just like the fable described it.”

Foo spun around. “Did you say a fable?”

“Yeah, ‘The Eastern Sage’. It’s a story about the origin of alchemy in Amestris. It claims the entire kingdom of Xerxes was destroyed in a single night. And that the only survivor wandered into Amestris shortly afterward. He was the one who went on to spread the science of alchemy.”

“How interesting. We have a similar legend in Xing about a drifter from the West. It’s said that his teachings were combined with our ancient techniques to form the Alkahestry we practice today.”

Katy’s mind instantly translated the stories into her known history of the land. The Eastern Sage was Father, the man who founded Amestris and introduced alchemy to the people and military. The Western Sage, Hohenheim, was the one to wander into Xing and teach the people how to heal with alchemy. She wasn’t sure when the Dragon’s Pulse reading came in, but it was obviously a big part of the Xingese culture.

“Alkahestry is primarily used for medical needs, isn’t it?”

“Yes. He guided this process, and we greatly revere him. We know him as the Western Sage.” Foo turned and began walking further into the ruins. “Come, we must continue forward.”

Breda stared at the ruins surrounding them as they walked. “So the West in his title is supposed to refer to here?”

Katy nodded and shrugged. “I don’t see why not, it makes sense. Amestris wasn’t even formed by the time these men traveled. They’d be about forty years too early for that.”

Edward turned to her in surprise. “How would you know that?”

“Easy. Amestris was founded in 1550, whereas records of Xerxes being destroyed showed up almost half a century earlier. I’m a State Alchemist too Edward, it’s not that hard to pick up a book,” she said with a knowing look. 

Then she tuned out the rest of the conversation and instead took in the scenery. Somehow being in ruins made her at peace, even if said ruins only ended up that way due to genocide. They were morbidly beautiful. She made a note of the location of the transmutation circle responsible. The castle was still in one piece and its shadow was used to take refuge from the sun.

“Edward!” a female voice called.

Katy turned in time to see Maria Ross come bounding down the Xerxes ruins. She grinned when Edward chuckled. “That damned Colonel,” he laughed.

Major Armstrong burst into tears and, as if were tradition, shed his top. He declared loudly how he missed her when he thought she was dead and chased the woman in hopes of hugging her. The rest of the group watched from a distance, most of them with a smile on their faces.

“There wasn’t really any place in Amestris we could safely hide a dead girl,” Breda explained. “Especially one that’s still alive, you know?”

“So the Colonel and Aiden knew that Lieutenant Ross was innocent all along?” Edward asked.

Breda went on to explain how Mustang and Aiden created a plan to rescue the innocent woman. They migrated to a shadowed area and sat in a circle to fully explain the story to Edward and Armstrong. Katy interjected at some points with her ideas and how she was involved in the entire affair. 

“I still think we could’ve hid her in Central,” she repeated. “‘The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm. It’s the last thing they’ll expect’. Haven’t you heard that saying?” Katy suddenly halted her mind process. Aiden was working off of a plan used in another series entirely. She sweatdropped. “Okay, nevermind.” Her boss was a lunatic.

Foo sighed and continued the story. “After madam Ross was prematurely freed, the Young Lord made a deal with Barry the Chopper. The orders I’ve been given are to personally escort this woman to the East to take refuge.”

“So we all agreed to rendezvous here, in one big effort to aid the Lieutenant’s escape,” Breda finished.

“I see,” Armstrong said.

Edward slumped in disappointment. “You’ve gotta be joking. I can’t believe they were able to pull one over on us like this.”

“He knew it’d be easier to convince you if you actually saw Lieutenant Ross.”

“Fine, I’ll admit it alright? The Colonel actually knew what he was doing this time. It may have also just been Aiden coming up with everything.”

“He mentioned something else. He said he didn’t want to take a chance on some hot-tempered kid endangering the operation. So he sent you out here,” Breda laughed.

“Hot-tempered kid?” Edward raged.

Katy splashed water in his face from her canteen. “Cool it, Sharkboy.” His response was an irritated glance at the woman. She grinned and didn’t regret her actions.

“You said ‘operation’,” Alex steamrolled over the pair’s actions. “Is there a phase beyond liberating Lieutenant Ross?”

“Indeed. He’s got a plan to reel in the puppeteer, the one that’s behind the conspiracy. You remember Barry from the fifth lab, right?” he asked Edward. “He went on one hell of a rampage. They’re bound to send someone to reclaim him.”

The people in the know went on to explain what they knew about the Homunculi group. Edward said that each of the people had an ouroboros tattoo somewhere on their body; Greed had one on his hand, Lust’s was on her chest, and Envy’s was on his thigh. Aiden’s was on her wrist. Armstrong had drawn out the figures in question along with the ouroboros tattoo and the human transmutation circle. Breda was thoroughly shocked when Armstrong and Edward mentioned Aiden 

“I’ve got nothing to do with this. Zilch. And yet here I am stuck in the middle of it, and framed by Homunculi,” Maria moaned helplessly.

“Yeah… sorry about that,” Katy apologized. “You kinda just drew the short stick on this one.”

“We’ve collected a fair amount of intelligence,” Breda said. “And once we piece it together, we’ll have the General’s killer.”

“Well before you go on,” Katy spoke, “you can’t put Aiden in the same group as the rest of these people. Her tattoo is only just a tattoo, and in the book I read about them, it said homunculi couldn’t perform alchemy.”

“Still though, her actions are questionable,” Edward replied. Then he drew a question mark in the sand under her picture.

“I don’t think that someone who asked me every day if I was eating enough is responsible for Hughes’ death,” Maria defended.

“I promise Lieutenant, we will absolve you of this crime,” Armstrong vowed.

“Lieutenant Colonel… I mean General Hughes,” Ed corrected, “it’s just hard to accept that he’s gone.” Katy looked skyward and did her best not to spill the beans from that particular can.

“And what shall you do now, Edward Elric?”

“Al and I committed a taboo. We still have people that help us. Some people get angry at us, others support us silently. Each one of them has tried to help me keep my promise to my brother.” He gripped his automail wrist. “So I have no choice, I can’t turn back. Which means, all I can do is move forward, right? I refuse to let another person become a victim, not while I’m alive. I know that’s a hard promise to keep. It’s hard enough just trying to take care of myself. I think that I’m even capable of it. I’m just arrogant. But… it’s the only thing I can think of. So I have to do it. I have to.”

The group was silent for a moment as they listened to Edward’s words. Breda and Ross smiled at him. Armstrong looked to his subordinate. “And you Lieutenant, where do you intend to seek asylum?” he asked.

“Well, I think that I’m gonna give Xing a shot.”

The afternoon passed into evening and the group gathered to see Lieutenant Ross off.

“Any parting wishes?” Armstrong asked. “Shall I tell your parents?”

Maria smiled and shook her head. “No, sir. As much as I want them to know I’m okay, I’m scared it will be too much of a risk. I just don’t want to put them in that kind of danger.”

“Very well.”

“Major Armstrong, Lieutenant Breda, Major Erwin, please deliver a message to the Colonel and the Lieutenant Colonel. I need them to know how grateful I am to how much they’ve done. If there’s any way I can help them, tell them to send for me.” She stood straight and saluted. “I owe them a great debt and I am willing to put my life on the line to repay it.”

The soldiers saluted in return, Katy more out of habit and respect for the woman than anything. “Can do.”

Edward sighed and went to salute as well but Maria walked forward and stopped him. She smiled and held out a hand. “Goodbye, Edward. Take care of yourself, okay?”

Ed smiled weakly. “I still owe you for that slap.”

“You can get me next time.” Edward took her hand.

The groups parted ways and they watched as Maria became a small dot in the distance. When the group started to leave, Katy admired them, taking in their details as she removed her gloves, shoving them in her pockets with a sigh.

Armstrong was the first to notice the girl’s absence, nudging the boy’s shoulder to keep him from walking any further. “Look,” he whispered, looking back to Katy and watching her. She seemed emotional, and he had no idea why. This was supposed to be a happy moment, wasn’t it? 

“Katy? Aren’t you coming?” Ed furrowed his eyebrows as Katy flashed him a smile, a tear rolling down her face. 

“No, Ed. I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you again,” she walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how long it’ll be, and it might be never, so this is goodbye, my friend.” She pulled him into a hug, which he hesitantly returned. When she pulled away, she gave him another smile and ruffled his hair a bit. “You’re gonna do great things, kid.” 

Lieutenant Breda held out a hand for her to take. “We all know you’ll miss me the most. Ain’t that right?”

Katy snorted and nodded, shaking her comrade’s hand. “Always Breda. Do tell Jean that he still looks like a horse for me, will you?” A nod was her answer and she turned to Armstrong. She gave him a hug as well. “Give a message to Aiden for me. Tell her E.T. had to phone home, okay?” 

“Of course miss Erwin. I’m sure she’s going to miss you, I hope you know that,” the man replied, giving her shoulder a light squeeze before she stepped away. 

“I know, I’ll miss her too, all of you.” She sighed, checking her watch: two minutes. “Alright, you need to get going. If you want, come up with some badass story for my disappearance. Like I died fighting thirty assassins or something.” She smiled again, the three men huffing a laugh at her comment before saying their final goodbyes, again. 

The two minutes were up and luckily they were far enough away when the portal opened. Katy smiled at the flashing lights in front of her. She had done something great for the country, something that could help in wars if needed. When she walked through, she was greeted with an entire room cheering for their leader’s return. 

“Hey, Guys! Good to see ya!” Katy’s smile lit up the room more than it already was. “Did you all behave while I was gone?” 

“We tried, Sergeant Major. Good to see you,” Kyoya smiled. He actually smiled, not a smirk, a full-on smile. Katy felt privileged to be on the receiving end.

“You too, Kyoya.” She shook his hand before looking around the room for her dragon. “Where is Hestia?” 

“She hasn’t been allowed in the lab after the incident. She’s the size of a large dog now, so she’s out in the training field destroying the dummies.” 

Katy chuckled, nodding in understanding at his answer. As she left, she told the staff to take the rest of the week off for their hard work, which they cheered for, again. As she walked to the training grounds, everyone was saying hello left and right. The usual five-minute walk almost took twenty. She finally reached the huge open field, a few explosions going off in the distance, dummies flying into the air shortly after. By the color of the explosion, it was obviously her dragon. 

“Hestia!” she called in her thoughts. Instantly, a head popped up from behind the short wall. The green eyes of the dragon took only a moment to land on her rider, a small roar coming from her as she flew to Katy. 

“Katy! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” she called back, tackling Katy to the ground and licking her face repeatedly, only stopping when Katy made a disgusted noise from all of the slobber. 

“It’s good to see you too, Hestia. You’ve grown, and learned how to talk!” Katy chuckled, snapping her fingers and she was clean again. “I have to go, but I’ll see you later, okay?” 

With a groan, Hestia nodded, rubbing on her rider one more time before Katy left to go back home. And with that, Katy’s trip through the land known as Amestris had come to an end. The portal was up and running, ready to take anyone through. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hello, my lovelies! Well, this is a long-ass chapter. Don’t worry, the next one will be shorter :) Hope you enjoyed my crossover with SKOMO (Soldier Keep On Marching On). The story is Minecraftian’s fanfic about Fullmetal Alchemist and her OC, so go check it out! (on wattpad!)

~K-The-Queen

This entire thing was basically written by me because as we kind of just agreed, FMAB is my domain even if this is her story. Apparently, I’m the all-knowing fan of Fullmetal Alchemist. Who knew right? Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed!

~ Minecraftian1213

[pyrebriight-a]

TAGGED BY: @hyaciiintho TAGGING: Whoever wants it!

ONE ( ALIAS / NAME ) Pi/Katie

TWO ( BIRTHDAY ) October 2nd

THREE ( ZODIAC SIGN ) Libra  | Year of the Horse

FOUR ( HEIGHT )  5′2"

FIVE ( HOBBIES ) Hiking, writing, reading, tabletop gaming, video gaming, painting miniatures, accidentally injuring myself with a practice lightsaber, and trying to befriend every cat I see on this green earth.

SIX ( FAVORITE COLOR(S ) I tend to like water and earth colors; blues, greens, tans, browns, bronze and copper shades, and I'm partial to gray as a neutral hue over black or white.

SEVEN ( FAVORITE BOOKS ) The Abhorsen Chronicles by Garth Nix, Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer, Boneshaker by Cherie Priest, Dune by Frank Herbert, and I'm partial to the Lord of the Rings books, as well. I've... read a fucking lot of books. I can't remember all of them

EIGHT ( LAST SONG LISTENED TO ) Wagon Wheel by Darius Rucker

NINE ( LAST FILM WATCHED ) The Ballad of Buster Scruggs 

TEN ( INSPIRATION FOR MUSE ) A very long think session about how this ending might have gone, and what life was like for the Princess it concerned. And deciding that I would write the ending she didn't get. And explore that line of thought some more. And now, here I am, three years later, salty as fuck and digging in my teeth because I want my thoughts out there, even if people want to ignore 'em. Y'know?

ELEVEN ( MEANING BEHIND YOUR URL ) infelicis means "unlucky/unfortunate" in Latin. I added an extra i.

[papermoth-bird-blog]

Austin: Tan lines in Texas (and an introduction to an Ashram in Arizona)

(okay, so I’ll note I’m actually writing this from Arizona, but the last few days have been a blur & it was hard to find time to write. Love to whoever is reading this.)

Austin was a great idea. Again, would have been made easier if I had a car, but it’s a good thing I made friends here. Or I should say- It’s a good thing my friends hooked me up with their friends that still live in Austin (particularly Kyle!)

Still been eating really good food. And by that, I mean in large part American comfort food. I have fully become addicted to tacos and have at least one a day.. (okay yeah, I’ve always had a burrito problem). I’ve pretty much conquered/eaten all the southern/tex-mex/austin staples. On top of that I had that I had the best bowl of Ramen I’ve ever had. I’ve also had a lot of juice/smoothies.. cause they love that here, for whatever reason. The sun came out & lifted my spirits tremendously. I spent so much time ‘playing’ outside. Barton creek is a really beautiful water body- Mediterranean blue! Right in the middle of the city. I’m glad that I started a morning pilgrimage to Zilker’s park to have tree-time. Some of my best memories from Austin were made there.

Kyle’s friend Marlon (who performs under the name Tasi) invited me out to a kinda institution/dive venue (a la Gus’ Pub but much bigger) to watch some people perform who were in the local indie scene.Turns out, one of the performer’s was Charlie from Hovvdy- a band I’d seen play earlier in the week. That was a really great night out. I feel like I was finally around people that reminded me of my friends back home- musicians, leftys, artists. It was really nice chatting to them all & making friends. It was grounding at a time that I felt a little more adrift. Marlon was super kind & totally hooked me up with a bunch of art shows & music shows for the rest of the week- not to mention introduced me to a lot of cool people.  I told him I’d repay the favour if he ever came up to Canada- and I hope he takes me up on it (I feel like he’s the type to). I also made friend’s with the bartender that night because apparently I am the doppleganger of her childhood best friend Katie. She even showed me pictures... it was a little weird, we did look oddly similar. If anything, it just made me feel that string-like guide of strange circumstances that has lead me along this wandering journey. So I kinda nodded my head instead of getting actually weirded out. Stranger and stranger everyday- and so, less strange overall. ‘Tis the life of a witch, I suppose.

The following evening was the BIG night I’d been awaiting since I started this trip- I went to see Jonathan Richman. It was a short set, which, not gonna lie, induced some skepticism. HOLY MOLY it was a great show. It filled me with so much joy and I danced through the whole set all by myself. He was so silly & playful- which made for a really engaging & flowing performance. Despite the overtone of hipstery-indifference, he pulled a lot of audience participation out of the crowd. We worshipped the sun together & sang praises for the summer feeling that arrived in Austin earlier that day. He also played a couple of his older hits (which I didn’t except, cause I was told he didn’t really play those anymore). The whole time there was this one guy full-fan-girling next to me. I kinda think he was freaking Jojo out. I’d probably have been weirded out to. By virtue of us being right beside each other in the front row, it meant that that Jojo was looking at me in the eyes (and boobs) all night. Which felt kinda weird, but kinda special. (haha). He also pranced around the stage with maracas which put me in a good mood. Strangely enough, he wasn’t the only one to whip out the maracas. Later on that night, I went to see another country band. The lead singer was decked out in Rhinestone Cowboy apparel. Sure enough, he whipped out the maracas eventually too. I guess something is in the air- mostly Maracas. 

My final day in Austin reached a high of 31 degrees. I walked around in shorts and a bathing suit all day- whispering to myself reminders that it was february. It put a lightness in my heart. I skipped around town, eating my favourite foods & got ice cream. I met up with a friend too & went swimming. We basked in the sun & talked about the future & travel. He just came back from hiking the Appalachian trail (which took 6 months). I quizzed him endlessly about it. It certainly sounds intimidating, but incredibly rewarding. It’s definitely something that’s doggy-eared on my travel wishlist. I mean- walking from Georgia to Maine! Can you imagine!! All throughout some of the most beautiful sections of mountains the world has to offer. Reading ‘Wild’ has certainly been encouraging me along this thought plain too. 

Later that night I went to a friend’s birthday party at a really boogie secret bar. I felt out of place, cause I was wearing cut off jean shorts & a ripped t-shirt & a bandana- definitely not exactly the vibe. It was a good time anyway & all the waiters had cute Irish Accents. Later in the night Brandon & I took off to go to another party across town, after picking up some more of his friends. I was flying to Pheonix the next day & mentally preparing myself for Ashram life. It felt a little odd to be around so many people doing coke- but if anything, it just confirmed that I feel really good about staying sober & living my life on the path I am travelling on. All the people there knew each other from high school (mostly Anderson high... which if I’m not mistaken is the high school in Dazed & Confused). It definitely brought me back to high school in a way- not that the conversations were particularly high school like (well maybe), but more so reminded me how I felt in high school. That just because I could get along with everybody & find things to talk about, doesn’t mean they are “my people”. I was just filled with pangs of gratitude for the people I have back home that make me feel so fulfilled & supported & loved wholly. It makes it easy to be away & explore knowing that. 

In some ways, I’ve seen flashes of every version of myself I’ve ever been. I’ve had moments that reminded me of my childhood. I’ve had moments reminding me of my adolescence. And along the way- I’ve found ways to make peace with the trouble some of those memories bring to me. Soothing me, teaching me, giving me room to grow. It’s like I’ve been repotted- I’m going through the lessons I was faced with before, but this time, I have many more tools & experiences to support me through them. It’s helped me spark a bit of excitement to spend time in Ontario again. 

The next morning, Brandon drove me to the airport. I’m so grateful to him for doing that too- because we slept in & I wouldn’t have had enough time if I had to take an uber. I tumbled high-speed through the airport & next thing I knew I was in Phoenix. (okay, there was a weird bit about the lady at TSA getting mad at me & patting me down because she didn’t like how many notes I had shoved in my overall’s pockets. I didn’t get it really. I looked more like a toddler that a smuggler, but whatever). My jaw practically hit the floor when I saw the landscape I dropped into. Such a big sky! and so blue! And mountain in the distance- that looked more like hardend sand dunes. The cactus’s are huge & fill the landscape, instead of an abundance of trees. It made me regret taking the plane, instead of the bus. Despite what everyone was saying, I really think I would have loved it. Now I just know I will have to trust my own feelings ever-forward when it comes to those things. 

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

Sedona, too, is more beautiful than I could have expected. I mean, I’ve seen pictures of course, but seeing the monuments & their contrast with space & sky is something else. I took this huge breath here that I feel like I’d been holding for months & months. I can tell I have work to do here. Routine to entangle in, feelings to purge. I will be here for two or three weeks- doing yoga & meditation & chanting everyday. I can already feel the shift in me. (and in some ways, a shift back to a way I was in the past too). Being part of a land co-op certainly does allow for a lot of outdoor work & collaborative living. I do love all that, and it definitely exists as a main part of the ashram. There is a different feeling here, though. Definitely less silly. It’s full of intention. I don’t know how to explain it right now- except it’s like your spirit makes eye contact with everyone else’s spirit. You can’t hide from your weaknesses. It requires honesty & commitment to make life work here. I’ve always been ready for that- but you don’t find too many places (especially in modern cities) that allows you to live that way. My body, too, is being challenged. Everyone here is a relatively devout yogi (karmic & asana). I myself have to catch up in ways. I already have the chants stuck in my  head as I work in the garden.

One think I’ve found challenging so far is what I am doing for my Karma Yoga practice. Rukmini can be a little nit-picky (although I know she’s working on that). She is also taking over for Swamiji while he is away, which I realize has it’s own stresses. She hopes that I will help her in the kitchen and help her with “momma chores”. The thought of that is challenging for me, however, because I’ve never been particularly inclined towards those things. Gopala is leaving the ashram soon. He has done a lot of the cooking & I think she really wants me to help with that..... my ultimate challenge. I mean, I told her I love farm work and building projects. Dharmagan & Charles are building a little temple by the bar. Really, I am craving to work on that. I think, Rukmini would prefer me to work with her, though. We did have a special moment earlier in which we were both totally geeking out about plants and gardening. That felt really nice. I’ve been thinking a lot about “my path” of course. I still feel intentional about doing some sort of healing practice. In clearing away all my obligations, I have thought every morning “in a perfect world, what would you do with this day). In almost all my answers, it has something to do with being outside with plant friends & sharing the gifts of plant medicines with my dearest people friends. I do really want to be a farmer- but in nova scotia that is certainly hard to make your full income. I love the idea of doing massage to fill out the rest of my time (as I’ve discussed for years), but it doesn’t spark the same immediate joy that plants do. I think it would still be something I’d be good at though & would open so many doors for me. (anyways, I digress... and most of my good friends have heard me repeat this conversation over and over again).

I can’t help but feel doubted (which is an ultimate pet peeve of mine) in areas that are a little more physical or perhaps typically male roles. She did allow me to help her garden today. We planted Onions & lilies & garlic as flakes of snow fell from the sky. It’s about 5 degrees- which for me, feels reasonable to be working outside. Everyone else keeps mentioning “THE COLD!” I just smile to myself, because it’s familiar to me & I love being outside. It did mean that Gopala brought me a big mug of Cocao while I planted. Which was kind and really thoughtful. 

Saraswati is the patron goddess of this ashram. Her colour is yellow (my favourite) and she is the goddess of wisdom & knowledge. She is actually one of my favourite Hindu Gods- so it was a happy surprise when I found that out. The library, where her shrine is, is beautiful & filled with yellow & gold. It’s a very happy place to be. All the book titles have filled me with a thirst to read as much as I can. Rukmini gave me a book about Peace Pilgrim. On my first day I sat down by the river with my feel sunk into the mud (next to the many raccoon paw prints) and read in the tree for a few hours. Peace Pilgrim is a favourite of the Swami here. He, like Peace Pilgrim, also journeyed around America, relying on faith & the kindness of strangers to help him on his way. I am looking forward to meeting him. Mare has told me wonderful things about him (mostly that he reminds her a lot of Dumbledore-- which is probably the highest praise any teacher could get). He arrives tomorrow- so I’m sure there will once again be another shift in energy. We’ve gotten a little lackadaisical with the timing of the schedule. I’ve heard Swami keep the household a little strict- but I suppose you have to when there is a bunch of people in & out (in addition to it being a serious spiritual centre). 

This is a small Ashram- with only about 7 of us here now. It is less than a year old, however, so it is still being established in many ways. The other ashrams have 50, maybe even 100 people living there. I feel good about this ashram though. Especially when it comes to learning, I feel like it will be more effective in a small group. Although I suppose larger ones would be nice because there would be lots of people to work with & talk to. It feels right to be in this one though. 

There was a girl who left the day before I arrived & her name was also Zoe. Apparently there was some confusion because we had the same name. I personally am just taking it as another sign that I’m supposed to be here. Something that I didn’t really expect is that I am feeling a lot of gratitude for my name- Which means life. There has been a lot of chants exploring that theme- being alive. I guess that could be expected, but it’s been standing out to me. My thoughts keep circling back to that mysterious phrase that lead me to this journey on the first place “go to New Orleans to learn about death”. I think I let a lot of things die when I chose to leave Halifax. There was death in that, surely. In a re:birthing context. I think what I learned most is that life exists concurrently with death. 

I struggle quite a bit still with thoughts of Ellie’s death. I found myself crying unexpectedly in Satsung yesterday, and then again when talking to Rukminiji. I find it hard to laugh and smile without it making me feel guilty in some way. As if keeping sadness close to my heart is penitence, or proof in someway that I loved her. New Orleans, certainly conjured the ideal of how deeply & brightly both the concepts of death & life can coexist. And so, still with thoughts & appreciation for death, I’ve been able to live a little more freely. Which is not something I thought I’d ever fully be able to move towards in sincerity. But I feel it. My prana is having the dust shaken off along this dessert journey. I am grateful for every moment of it- all the challenges & moments of peace that is being gifted to me. 

[andya-j]

Of the first six postcards from Natalie, I only have three. Mom was able to intercept the other three while I was at school or, after June, working a shift at the Tractor Supply Store. I wouldn’t even have known about them except that she made sure I knew, saved them until I got home before she ripped them into the smallest pieces her stiff-knuckled fingers could manage and set them on fire in her ashtray. She was angry at Nat but punishing me was the closest she could get now. I’d manage to get a few pieces out of the garbage just singed after she went to sleep, every time, but Nat’s handwriting was so big and loopy that I’d only get a few letters or a short word, an is or an I or a too. I wish now that I’d kept them and tried to piece them back together like a scientist on one of those cop shows, but at the time it didn’t seem like a good idea to defy Mom straight-up like that. So I stared at them until I had taken everything I could from the letters, and from the pictures on the front, and then tucked them back in the trash and washed my hands. The three I did get, when Mom was the one working late, I saved of course. I hid them inside of a copy of Little Women that someone had given me as a present and I’d never read. The first one was from not long after Nat left. It was from Ohio, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and it was all things are so good and so in love and talked about how Keith had gotten—stolen, since she didn’t say bought—her a silver ring with onyx chips that made a turtle. She drew a cartoon turtle at the bottom and signed it Love You Always Little Mandy, From Nat. The second one was from the Big Bend Family Campground in Michigan. They’d been there a while, I guess, because she complained about having to send the same card twice. She said there weren’t that many to choose from. Also I figured out that they’d picked up a puppy somewhere along the way because she was proud of having almost taught “Strider” not to hump on people even though Keith would laugh and egg it on. We’re a real family now! she said, and the bottom of my throat squeezed for a moment, but I couldn’t be sad that she was happy. That was what someone like Mom did. And she signed it Love You Always Little Mandy again and turned the a in Mandy into a heart, and I felt better. The third one was from Sleeping Bear Dunes in Wisconsin. I could see that something had happened even before I read the words, because Nat’s handwriting was still big and slanted but the letters looked thinner and shakier. I hid in the bathroom with the shower running to read it, in case Mom came home and I was too distracted to hear her. Keith left, it said without a greeting. He did it the worst way, Mandy. I passed out partying last night and when I woke up I was under an old down tree in the woods and the fire was dead and he was gone. He took the car and Strider and my bag—everything. I woke up colder than I’ve ever been. I don’t know what I’ll do now. I just feel sick and sad. She’d underlined ‘sick’ and ‘sad’ with wavery lines. She signed this one Love You Miss You Little Mandy. I left the bathroom and hid the card with the others, and then I went back to the bathroom to throw up. I couldn’t tell why. I just knew that when I thought of Keith leaving her all alone to wake up under a dead tree full of bugs and rot, everything on my body prickled and I felt as though the whole world was full of nothing but humiliation the color of pencil lead. Part of me wanted to find Keith and punch him in the face while I screamed at the top of my lungs, and the other part of me knew that no matter how hard I punched or how loud I screamed it would never make this not have happened, would never again change the balance of the universe into one where people treated my beautiful big sister the way she deserved. Those two parts went in opposite directions and made my lunch come up. The next thing I did, after I drank a glass of water to take away the taste, was call Tractor Supply and quit with no notice. I might have had some thought that Nat would come home now, and that Mom might not let her in—although of course Mom would let her in, how else would she get her back to punish? The real reason was that I knew that I couldn’t let Mom get her hands on any more of the cards. I made it through dinner as though everything was normal, and went to bed early. It was only when I was curled up on my side in the dark, trying not to think about Nat waking up all alone and confused, that I thought instead to wonder how she’d gotten a postcard and a stamp if Keith had taken all her stuff with him. She must be ok, I told myself, if she got a postcard and a stamp. I finally told Mom I’d quit a week or so later. She made a lot of remarks about how I was lazy and spoiled and worthless, but she was pleased to have me around all the time. I’d known she would be. She could offload all the cooking onto me now, and all the laundry and the yard work too. Plus I think when Nat left it gave her the fear that I might leave someday too, but I couldn’t do that without any money coming in. I couldn’t do much without any money coming in. Just wait for the mail. One day I went to the library and used the computer to look up pictures of Sleeping Bear Dunes, to see if I could stare hard enough and see where Na might be, but I was antsy about Mom coming home early so I didn’t stay long. Before I left, though, I printed out a bunch of pictures—the ones that looked most like the postcard—for a dime a page. I hung them in my room on the back of the door. I stared at them long enough that I could see them in the dark. I get used to any new normal quickly, that’s a talent that I’ve always had. In a few weeks my life had always been about waiting for postcards, and in a few weeks more those postcards had always never come—even though the first two postcards that Mom burned had come within a few days of each other and of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I cooked dinners for Mom and packed lunches too—she’d skip lunch if left to her own devices and she was skinny enough as it was—and checked the mail three times a day, even though I always knew when it actually came by the neighbors’ huskies. I looked at the classifieds in the Pennysaver every week, but everything that claimed MAKE MONEY FROM HOME seemed too good to be true. Twice Mark called, drunk and sorry that he’d dumped me before he went in the Marines, and once Nat’s best friend Katie called from college to ask if we’d heard from her. Mom said no and hung up before I could get to the extension. The leaves fell off the maples and I raked them up, but then I decided I didn’t want the colors to go away so instead of bagging them I left them in a pile and let the wind spread them back out across the lawn. I expected Mom to yell about that, but she didn’t. She sat on the porch and looked at the carpet of leaves and when I came out to smoke a cigarette with her, she said, “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Just as pretty as anything on those damn cards.” We’d both been not mentioning postcards to each other at all, except when she had one in her hands to tear up. I froze. In July I’d have silently disagreed, thought what Nat would have said out loud, that the pine woods and the lake shore and any place that wasn’t here was a thousand times prettier by definition. Even the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But I’d stared at Sleeping Bear Dunes and thought of being cold and lonely long enough that the leaves looked much more comfortable. “I wish there was a return address on one of those postcards,” Mom went on, after another drag. “We could send that girl a picture back. Remind her that she used to like it here.” I’d wished there were a return address on the postcards too, so now I didn’t know what to think. After that, Mom had burned out or thawed out or something and she was more like the Mom I thought I remembered from before Nat left, and from before she and Nat would butt heads every day over every little thing, and from before Dad took off before that. But at that point we’d be talking little kid memories, so I wasn’t quite sure. Definitely not sure enough that I showed her the next card from Nat when it finally showed up. She’d doubled back as far as Ohio; the card had bright red covered bridge on it and the caption “Greetings From Troy.” But if she’d thought about coming all the way home, she didn’t mention it. Instead she just said Hi Mandy! I met the neatest girl. She’s just like Laura from Little House, two long braids and a deerskin jacket that she made herself. Her boyfriend ditched her, too, so we’re going to travel around together for a while. She’s been on the road a lot and she knows how to get along. I guess we’ll head west. Love you miss you little Mandy. Your Nat. P.S. Her name is Beth. The loop was back in her letters and that made me happy, even if she was heading away again. A girl with a homemade buckskin jacket sounded exactly like the kind of person Nat would find, too, out of a crowd of a thousand people in regular t-shirts and cotton blouses. Maybe they’d get out west somewhere in California and like it there so much they’d invite me to come visit. Maybe they’d get another dog along the way. Mom managed to pick up a friend too, a guy who worked at Wende with her, not a guard but one of the guys who maintained the HVAC and electrical stuff. I kind of liked him, or at least I was glad he wasn’t a guard because I never liked the guards she dated. When she first brought him home he stuck out his hand and said “You must be Amanda” and he didn’t clutch too tight, like it was a contest, and he didn’t try to pull me in to get a feel. So that was alright. “I’m Greg.” You could tell that his sport jacket wasn’t something that he wore so often, in fact it reminded me of an old picture I had of Dad at one of my aunts’ weddings, looking awkward with his elbows sticking out. When Mom didn’t come home that night, I wasn’t surprised. Mom never had Greg spend the night at our place, but once a week or so he’d come for dinner. She’d cook those nights so it was nice for me, and maybe that helped me along, but anyway I got to like him more and more. Just like that first handshake, he always treated me like a grown-up person, which hardly anyone ever did. And he made Mom a lot more relaxed, easier to live with. She began, just a tiny bit, to treat me like a grown-up person too. Like for instance, one night after we’d all had lasagna, her favorite fancy thing to make, and brownies with cream cheese swirls on top, she opened up the bottle of wine Greg brought and she poured one for him and for herself and then she poured one for me too. I’d started clearing the plates but she gestured the wine bottle at me and said “Sit down. There’s no rush.” So I did, and I sipped the wine. It wasn’t like I’d never had a drink before—I’d teethed with Old Crow on my gums, and Nat had been giving me sips of her Genny Cream Ale since I was in middle school—but sitting there drinking out of the good glasses made everything shift sideways a little. I felt giddy right away, even though the wine was kind of sour. The wind kicked up, and the bird feeder rattled against the window. “Winter soon,” Greg said, and he looked over at Mom in a way that meant there had been some prior conversation. She nodded. “Well, she’s a grown-ass woman, or that’s what she yelled anyway.” “I’m sure she found someplace safe to lay up.” “I’m sure she did.” Mom nodded deeper than she needed to, and took a bigger sip of wine. “Really, Joanne, you have to let go the worry. I’m sure she’s a smart kid. Amanda’s got a good head on her shoulders already, and she’s two years younger.” Greg made eye contact with me and for a moment I was worried that Mom was going to flare up, but she knew she had no reason to be jealous, not with Greg. “Amanda’s always been the steady one.” Mom nudged me with an elbow. “I know I’m not supposed to compare you kids, but you know it’s true, Mandy. You were born responsible. Nat had a wild streak.” I didn’t like that she said ‘had’ but I didn’t say anything. “But you’re right, Greg. She’s smart. They’re both of them smart girls, they take after me that way, thank God. Both of them straight A’s in school, and both of them know how to take care of themselves. I made sure of that.” “She taught me how to split firewood when Dad first left,” I threw in, because I felt like I had to talk eventually. “Got me a little tiny hatchet and put me on kindling. She and Nat talked me up like I’d saved us all from freezing to death. It was years before I realized that it must have taken way longer to watch me do it than it would have to do it herself.” Mom chuckled, and poured more wine all around. “We made a go of it, didn’t we? I think he expected us to all fall apart without him, but we managed.” “That must have been hard,” Greg said. “Oh in those days, everyone thought it was the hardest thing. All on the news, the divorce rates and the single mothers. Old women looking at me in Ames with so much pity. As though men haven’t been running off since forever.” Mom set the bottle down a little hard. “No offense.” “None taken,” Greg said as though it were a line on TV. “Natalie’s going to be fine, Joanne.” “I’m sure she will be,” Mom said. And then, as though it had just come to her, “We’ll see her in the spring, I bet. She’ll be sick of it by then.” I thought of Nat sick and sad with underlines and was quiet again. I wasn’t going to say anything to Mom, but I knew we wouldn’t see her in the spring. Snow fell before the next postcard came, but near Buffalo that’s not saying much, is it? This girl named Tammy is travelling with us now, this one said. She says she’s spent a lot of time in WNY, she’s even been to Mumford! She was trying to get home to Florida but she changed her mind and decided to go west with us. Then we found a lost kid in the road, a little black boy maybe two years old with no clothes on but a pair of underpants. I wanted to help him but he wouldn’t talk to me and he ran away, way faster than I would have thought a toddler could. Beth says more parents lose their kids out here than you’d think, and there’s nothing I can do. She looked upset about it though. The words at the end were cramped, like she’d been trying to squeeze in as much as she could, and the Love you always Little Mandy ran into the address part of the card. I flipped it over and looked at the picture, a steamboat on the Mississippi River. No word if it was snowing where she was, but snow never fell on steamboats, did it? Just in case, I bought her a pair of purple knit gloves with bright green turtles on them for Christmas, and a giant Toblerone. I put three maple leaves I’d saved from the front yard in the package too; one red, one orange, and a yellow one that still had some green on it when it fell. I wrapped it up and I put it under my bed, just in case. Of course it turned out to be just Mom and I on Christmas morning. Greg was with his sister and brother-in-law and their kids, though he’d promised to come by for dinner later. He’d helped us set up a tree that was taller than either of us, but that just meant that presents for two looked even lonelier underneath. The gloves Mom got me were black leather, with purple trim and cashmere on the inside. When I put them on they were a little small, but they felt like they would stretch. She got me boots, too, which I could tell from the box were from the consignment shop but they were pretty much like new. And a purse with a bird worked on it in leather. “I love these,” I said, sliding my hands back into the gloves to feel the cashmere again. “Thank you.” “Thank you,” Mom said to me, too fiercely, and then hugged me. “I know I went a bit crazy there when Nat left.” “I’m sure Nat didn’t mean all the things she said either.” Mom shook her head. “I wasn’t fair to you either. You’ve been a rock, Mandy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She squeezed me tighter, just for a second, and then let go. “Even if you do leave someday, I know at least you’d keep writing.” I thought about telling her about the postcards I’d hidden, but I wasn’t sure it was safe, and then the moment was gone. I don’t think it would have made any difference in the end, anyway. The next postcard proved that I shouldn’t have worried about snow. Nat was smart, like Mom had said. She was in Texas now, down on the Gulf coast. The card had a sea turtle on it and I smiled when I thought how happy she must have been when she found that. Her letters were loopy again too, although smaller now since she seemed to have realized she could write more that way. Finally met a cute guy out here on the road, she wrote, and of course, my luck, he’s a major faggot. Sweet kid though. Named Alejandro. He said there were like 30 other kids travelling with him but they all upped and disappeared on him a while back. So he’ll probably stick with us for a while. I could picture Nat giggling and sighing, what a waste, probably trying to pet his hair—not being mean about it but just typical thoughtless Nat. I hoped she didn’t pester this kid to death, but at the same time, thinking of her giggling was the best, so too bad for Alejandro. Beth says people disappear on the road a lot, the main thing is that we all have to stick together and not talk to cops, or even let them see us if we can help it. But sometimes you can’t, of course. Mostly never tell them your name. Never Tell a Cop Your Name, Little Mandy! was her sign-off. “Like I would,” I said out loud, and put the card with the others. Spring came early that year, and Greg had his motorcycle on the road by the middle of March. Lots of people had their motorcycles out early and lots of other people weren’t looking out for them. The only thing that made Greg’s accident different was that it was a hit-and-run. There was a long hunt for a dented car, a guilty conscience, or something, but they never found anyone. The only comfort was that Mom and Greg both died pretty much instantly. I just put my head down, the way I did when Dad and Nat left, and at first I thought that maybe it wasn’t so different being alone with the postcards all the time than it had been to be alone with them most of the time. But it was. Now that I had nothing I had to do and no one to do it for, I read over all the postcards two, three times a day and they were starting to get bent and soft at the corners, and that wasn’t ok. Besides, the part of my brain that wasn’t numb knew that Mom’s insurance money wouldn’t last that long even if I never felt like eating again. My old manager at Tractor Supply had always liked me, and felt bad for me now. She argued up the chain that I’d always been reliable until the one day I hadn’t, and I think she put that on Mom, although I didn’t ask. Mom had been known pretty well around town for her temper. Anyway, whatever she said worked, and I had a job again, although back down on the first rung being managed by kids two and three years younger than me. It wasn’t so bad. I swept up spilled birdseed, I put the Carhart jackets back in order, I worked the register. And every day I had a single moment of turning into the driveway and opening up the mailbox, instead of listening for the huskies all afternoon. The next postcard arrived about a week after I started working again, although it felt like the years and years that it should have taken the whole world to change. She’d made it to California, the land of dreams where we always talked about going, the place that we’d seen on TV. The postcard showed a Navy ship in blue water and said San Diego. Weirdest thing, it said on the back. Not long after we got here I saw a woman who looked just like Mom along the road. Just like her, Mandy. I stared at her and she stared at me but she turned away without saying anything. That wouldn’t be like Mom, would it? Not if she had something to say. And she was with some guy I didn’t recognize. So it probably wasn’t Mom. But I hope everything is ok at home . . . I don’t miss it, but I do miss you. Nat hadn’t written a date, she never did. But the postmark was from the day after Mom’s funeral. And it had just gotten here now. I was starting to think that maybe time worked a whole different way on the road Nat was on. But that was a crazy way to think, and I did worry a little bit, now that I had regular everyday people to compare myself to, that I might be going crazy. People did, after grief, in empty houses. One might pile beer bottles to the ceiling and another one might fill the barn and shed and house with cats that reeked of piss and someone else might get Jesus in a hard and peculiar way, but it was all the same crazy underneath. I didn’t want to go there. I’d only read the postcards every other day, I told myself. Or once a week. They’d last a lot longer if I only read them once a week, and I would too. I took every hour they would give me at Tractor Supply. That’s why I was working the closing shift the night Keith came through at five minutes to eight. He was lugging a fifty-pound bag of dog food and I think by the time he realized whose register he was at it was too late to walk away without dropping it. I didn’t let on that I recognized him at first. It was almost sort of believable that I wouldn’t—he’d let his dyed black hair grow back out to a dirty blond, and he looked a lot older now that he had when he and Nat left. Not quite a year ago. I hadn’t thought of it in terms of an actual date. Time worked weird here too. Only after I’d rung up the Alpo and taken his money, while I was handing him his receipt, did I say, “That wasn’t cool what you did to Nat.” I said it as quiet and calm as I could. I didn’t want the girls at the other registers to think I was making a scene like Mom would have done. He dropped the receipt and ran out without the dog food. I spent the rest of the night worrying that Strider was hungry. Nat wouldn’t have wanted that. He came back for the dog food in the morning when I wasn’t there, and I didn’t expect to see him again. But he did turn up, the next week when I had the same closing shift again. He grabbed one of the caramel nut logs we sold near the register, obviously just as an excuse. I never knew anyone to actually eat those things. “I didn’t do it,” he said as he handed me a five-dollar bill. “It was the guy who sold us the pills, I didn’t know.” I knew words were coming out of his mouth and he was shaking his head, but I didn’t really listen. “But you left her. You shouldn’t have left her out there.” He shook his head harder, and his greasy hair swung against his cheeks. “There was nothing I could do, Mandy. What could I do? I’m as sorry about it as anybody, what could I do? I couldn’t do any good.” He kept saying variations on that same sentence until I pushed the nut log into his hand. Then he looked down at it like he’d never seen one before and walked out. When I went out to the parking lot at nine I found the red nut log wrapper torn into a rough heart shape and stuck underneath my windshield wiper. I pulled it out and dropped it in a garbage can. I got the idea that I was supposed to take it home and keep it forever, maybe tuck it into a book as well, and now I knew how Mom felt to not do that. The crazy part of me wondered if Nat would know, somehow, in her next postcard but it was nothing like that. It was San Francisco, two men in cowboy hats and sunglasses and no shirts, a rude slogan that if Mom had been around I would have pretended not to get. I got Alejandro a hat just like that, cause he’s from Texas. Got, so stole, not bought. Good old Nat. He told Beth she should let him wear her suede jacket too, but of course she won’t. I love San Francisco, Mandy. I wish we could stay. The only bad thing that’s happened here is that Tammy disappeared on us, a couple of days ago. Maybe she told a cop her name? Anyway, that upset Beth of course and she says we have to keep moving, head north. I’m not sure why. But going to Seattle would be neat I guess. I’m not sure why that jogged my memory, it wasn’t like I read the news or watched it. But it had been on the front page, so maybe I’d just seen it out of the corner of my eye, or heard on the radio of a car with an open window, or some ladies had gossiped about it in line at McDonald’s while I was getting coffee. Nice old ladies like the saddest, grossest, and most violent crime stories to talk over when they’re out shopping. I tried to tell myself that this was it, for sure I was crazy, but I went to the library anyway and got the Buffalo News from two weeks ago Monday. Tammy Jordan had been dug up from a field a bit outside Honeoye Falls before I was born, and been Honey Doe all my life, a vague presence who only mattered when a bored tv reporter would try to stir up new leads. Until two weeks ago, when she’d been identified, finally, by an old woman who got around to watching an old taped episode of Unsolved Mysteries and saw that Honey Doe’s computer-reconstructed image had the uneven teeth and favorite t-shirt of her runaway niece. We Know Her Name, the headline said. What was left of her body now would be exhumed and sent back to be buried in the proper place, the waiting slot where she belonged, under the proper label. I was angry that they weren’t even going to ask her if she wanted to go back, until I realized how stupid that sounded. I sat in the library, not wanting to be alone, until it closed. Then I went home and stared at the dull, now curled-up pictures of Sleeping Bear Dunes still pinned to the back of my door. He’d left Nat somewhere all alone in those dark pines. And she’d found a way to walk out, to keep writing to me anyway. She loved me and missed me. I didn’t even have to put my head down to go on this time. It was already down. I didn’t quit Tractor Supply or cry in the shower or forget to eat, since I’d done all those things already. The only real change in my habits was that I stopped turning the lights on when I was at home. I knew where everything was and there was no one else who needed to see. Besides, the days were getting longer now. I was a little bit afraid that figuring it out would mean she wouldn’t write to me any more. That seemed like what would happen in a fairy tale. But thinking like that was crazy. And another postcard came the very next week, from Klamath Falls. A lake with a mountain poking up above it, covered in snow. Something’s going on, Mandy. We came up on this whole group of women . . . mostly women and young girls, some kids, some guys. Some of them knew Beth, and acted like they’d been expecting her. She was introducing me and Alejandro to everyone. Everyone’s excited. It’s like we’re on our way to a festival or something. There’s a woman who seems to be in charge, an Indian woman named Anna, and she has everyone organized like you wouldn’t believe and heading north so fast I barely had time to mail this. I’m gonna find out what’s going on as soon as I can and write you again, I bet this is gonna be good! I miss you so much, Little Mandy. I kept going to work, but people asked if I’d been sleeping. They could tell. The phone rang and I didn’t answer it. I felt as though I didn’t need even coffee, although somehow I found myself drinking more of it than ever, because I needed to walk out of Tractor Supply and into the air as often as I could get away with. I started bumming cigarettes and going on smoke breaks too, but people on smoke break wanted to talk and that was hard when I was filled with something no one could talk to me about except Nat. Only one thing mattered and that was launching through the days until I got to the next postcard. It reached me just in time. It was from Seattle, weirdly old-timey, black and white with horses in the street and men with hats, some kind of official-looking building. All the light parts, the sky between the buildings and the paler grey of the sidewalks, were filled with upside-down letters, printing much tighter than anything I’d ever seen from Nat before, spillover from a back crammed margin to margin with tiny letters—well, tiny for Nat, maybe not that tiny—except for the outlined box with my address and the tiny square for the stamp. They’d put a sticker with a barcode over part of it but I was able to peel it off, carefully, without pulling up any of the ink beneath. We’re going up the mountain. There are so many of us that soon they won’t be able to ignore us any more, Nat. Just the Indian girls—just from Vancouver and British Columbia alone—would be an army, and then so many from California, so many from Ohio, so many from Michigan, we’re from everywhere, every single state. Each of us alone they ignore, it was one bad pill or one bad man, we got in one wrong car, whatever. But together, if you don’t pull us apart and look at us one by one but all together, you see it’s not that. It’s much bigger. I didn’t realize myself until just now, Little Mandy. I thought it was my fault. I’m glad I can tell you so you don’t have to go around thinking that. So like I said, here I had to turn the card over, we’re going up the mountain. When we Come down, it will be in a way They can’t ignore. And until then we’ll be safe. I wish there were a way you could get here, it said across the broadest part of the sky, without you having to come by this road. I Love You and Miss You, Little Mandy. I had just put it into my copy of Little Women with the others when the doorbell rang. If they’d waited even half an hour more I’d have been crying and they might have won. But when the police were standing outside, all I could think was Never Tell a Cop Your Name, Little Mandy! and I didn’t. I nodded, and I even turned on the lights so they wouldn’t think I was weird, but that’s not the same. And when they held out the ring with the onyx chips like a turtle and asked about Nat, I said, no, my sister is fine. I just got a postcard from her.

Of the first six postcards from Natalie, I only have three. Mom was able to intercept the other three while I was at school or, after June, working a shift at the Tractor Supply Store. I wouldn’t even have known about them except that she made sure I knew, saved them until I got home before she ripped them into the smallest pieces her stiff-knuckled fingers could manage and set them on fire in her ashtray. She was angry at Nat but punishing me was the closest she could get now. I’d manage to get a few pieces out of the garbage just singed after she went to sleep, every time, but Nat’s handwriting was so big and loopy that I’d only get a few letters or a short word, an is or an I or a too. I wish now that I’d kept them and tried to piece them back together like a scientist on one of those cop shows, but at the time it didn’t seem like a good idea to defy Mom straight-up like that. So I stared at them until I had taken everything I could from the letters, and from the pictures on the front, and then tucked them back in the trash and washed my hands. The three I did get, when Mom was the one working late, I saved of course. I hid them inside of a copy of Little Women that someone had given me as a present and I’d never read. The first one was from not long after Nat left. It was from Ohio, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and it was all things are so good and so in love and talked about how Keith had gotten—stolen, since she didn’t say bought—her a silver ring with onyx chips that made a turtle. She drew a cartoon turtle at the bottom and signed it Love You Always Little Mandy, From Nat. The second one was from the Big Bend Family Campground in Michigan. They’d been there a while, I guess, because she complained about having to send the same card twice. She said there weren’t that many to choose from. Also I figured out that they’d picked up a puppy somewhere along the way because she was proud of having almost taught “Strider” not to hump on people even though Keith would laugh and egg it on. We’re a real family now! she said, and the bottom of my throat squeezed for a moment, but I couldn’t be sad that she was happy. That was what someone like Mom did. And she signed it Love You Always Little Mandy again and turned the a in Mandy into a heart, and I felt better. The third one was from Sleeping Bear Dunes in Wisconsin. I could see that something had happened even before I read the words, because Nat’s handwriting was still big and slanted but the letters looked thinner and shakier. I hid in the bathroom with the shower running to read it, in case Mom came home and I was too distracted to hear her. Keith left, it said without a greeting. He did it the worst way, Mandy. I passed out partying last night and when I woke up I was under an old down tree in the woods and the fire was dead and he was gone. He took the car and Strider and my bag—everything. I woke up colder than I’ve ever been. I don’t know what I’ll do now. I just feel sick and sad. She’d underlined ‘sick’ and ‘sad’ with wavery lines. She signed this one Love You Miss You Little Mandy. I left the bathroom and hid the card with the others, and then I went back to the bathroom to throw up. I couldn’t tell why. I just knew that when I thought of Keith leaving her all alone to wake up under a dead tree full of bugs and rot, everything on my body prickled and I felt as though the whole world was full of nothing but humiliation the color of pencil lead. Part of me wanted to find Keith and punch him in the face while I screamed at the top of my lungs, and the other part of me knew that no matter how hard I punched or how loud I screamed it would never make this not have happened, would never again change the balance of the universe into one where people treated my beautiful big sister the way she deserved. Those two parts went in opposite directions and made my lunch come up. The next thing I did, after I drank a glass of water to take away the taste, was call Tractor Supply and quit with no notice. I might have had some thought that Nat would come home now, and that Mom might not let her in—although of course Mom would let her in, how else would she get her back to punish? The real reason was that I knew that I couldn’t let Mom get her hands on any more of the cards. I made it through dinner as though everything was normal, and went to bed early. It was only when I was curled up on my side in the dark, trying not to think about Nat waking up all alone and confused, that I thought instead to wonder how she’d gotten a postcard and a stamp if Keith had taken all her stuff with him. She must be ok, I told myself, if she got a postcard and a stamp. I finally told Mom I’d quit a week or so later. She made a lot of remarks about how I was lazy and spoiled and worthless, but she was pleased to have me around all the time. I’d known she would be. She could offload all the cooking onto me now, and all the laundry and the yard work too. Plus I think when Nat left it gave her the fear that I might leave someday too, but I couldn’t do that without any money coming in. I couldn’t do much without any money coming in. Just wait for the mail. One day I went to the library and used the computer to look up pictures of Sleeping Bear Dunes, to see if I could stare hard enough and see where Na might be, but I was antsy about Mom coming home early so I didn’t stay long. Before I left, though, I printed out a bunch of pictures—the ones that looked most like the postcard—for a dime a page. I hung them in my room on the back of the door. I stared at them long enough that I could see them in the dark. I get used to any new normal quickly, that’s a talent that I’ve always had. In a few weeks my life had always been about waiting for postcards, and in a few weeks more those postcards had always never come—even though the first two postcards that Mom burned had come within a few days of each other and of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I cooked dinners for Mom and packed lunches too—she’d skip lunch if left to her own devices and she was skinny enough as it was—and checked the mail three times a day, even though I always knew when it actually came by the neighbors’ huskies. I looked at the classifieds in the Pennysaver every week, but everything that claimed MAKE MONEY FROM HOME seemed too good to be true. Twice Mark called, drunk and sorry that he’d dumped me before he went in the Marines, and once Nat’s best friend Katie called from college to ask if we’d heard from her. Mom said no and hung up before I could get to the extension. The leaves fell off the maples and I raked them up, but then I decided I didn’t want the colors to go away so instead of bagging them I left them in a pile and let the wind spread them back out across the lawn. I expected Mom to yell about that, but she didn’t. She sat on the porch and looked at the carpet of leaves and when I came out to smoke a cigarette with her, she said, “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Just as pretty as anything on those damn cards.” We’d both been not mentioning postcards to each other at all, except when she had one in her hands to tear up. I froze. In July I’d have silently disagreed, thought what Nat would have said out loud, that the pine woods and the lake shore and any place that wasn’t here was a thousand times prettier by definition. Even the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But I’d stared at Sleeping Bear Dunes and thought of being cold and lonely long enough that the leaves looked much more comfortable. “I wish there was a return address on one of those postcards,” Mom went on, after another drag. “We could send that girl a picture back. Remind her that she used to like it here.” I’d wished there were a return address on the postcards too, so now I didn’t know what to think. After that, Mom had burned out or thawed out or something and she was more like the Mom I thought I remembered from before Nat left, and from before she and Nat would butt heads every day over every little thing, and from before Dad took off before that. But at that point we’d be talking little kid memories, so I wasn’t quite sure. Definitely not sure enough that I showed her the next card from Nat when it finally showed up. She’d doubled back as far as Ohio; the card had bright red covered bridge on it and the caption “Greetings From Troy.” But if she’d thought about coming all the way home, she didn’t mention it. Instead she just said Hi Mandy! I met the neatest girl. She’s just like Laura from Little House, two long braids and a deerskin jacket that she made herself. Her boyfriend ditched her, too, so we’re going to travel around together for a while. She’s been on the road a lot and she knows how to get along. I guess we’ll head west. Love you miss you little Mandy. Your Nat. P.S. Her name is Beth. The loop was back in her letters and that made me happy, even if she was heading away again. A girl with a homemade buckskin jacket sounded exactly like the kind of person Nat would find, too, out of a crowd of a thousand people in regular t-shirts and cotton blouses. Maybe they’d get out west somewhere in California and like it there so much they’d invite me to come visit. Maybe they’d get another dog along the way. Mom managed to pick up a friend too, a guy who worked at Wende with her, not a guard but one of the guys who maintained the HVAC and electrical stuff. I kind of liked him, or at least I was glad he wasn’t a guard because I never liked the guards she dated. When she first brought him home he stuck out his hand and said “You must be Amanda” and he didn’t clutch too tight, like it was a contest, and he didn’t try to pull me in to get a feel. So that was alright. “I’m Greg.” You could tell that his sport jacket wasn’t something that he wore so often, in fact it reminded me of an old picture I had of Dad at one of my aunts’ weddings, looking awkward with his elbows sticking out. When Mom didn’t come home that night, I wasn’t surprised. Mom never had Greg spend the night at our place, but once a week or so he’d come for dinner. She’d cook those nights so it was nice for me, and maybe that helped me along, but anyway I got to like him more and more. Just like that first handshake, he always treated me like a grown-up person, which hardly anyone ever did. And he made Mom a lot more relaxed, easier to live with. She began, just a tiny bit, to treat me like a grown-up person too. Like for instance, one night after we’d all had lasagna, her favorite fancy thing to make, and brownies with cream cheese swirls on top, she opened up the bottle of wine Greg brought and she poured one for him and for herself and then she poured one for me too. I’d started clearing the plates but she gestured the wine bottle at me and said “Sit down. There’s no rush.” So I did, and I sipped the wine. It wasn’t like I’d never had a drink before—I’d teethed with Old Crow on my gums, and Nat had been giving me sips of her Genny Cream Ale since I was in middle school—but sitting there drinking out of the good glasses made everything shift sideways a little. I felt giddy right away, even though the wine was kind of sour. The wind kicked up, and the bird feeder rattled against the window. “Winter soon,” Greg said, and he looked over at Mom in a way that meant there had been some prior conversation. She nodded. “Well, she’s a grown-ass woman, or that’s what she yelled anyway.” “I’m sure she found someplace safe to lay up.” “I’m sure she did.” Mom nodded deeper than she needed to, and took a bigger sip of wine. “Really, Joanne, you have to let go the worry. I’m sure she’s a smart kid. Amanda’s got a good head on her shoulders already, and she’s two years younger.” Greg made eye contact with me and for a moment I was worried that Mom was going to flare up, but she knew she had no reason to be jealous, not with Greg. “Amanda’s always been the steady one.” Mom nudged me with an elbow. “I know I’m not supposed to compare you kids, but you know it’s true, Mandy. You were born responsible. Nat had a wild streak.” I didn’t like that she said ‘had’ but I didn’t say anything. “But you’re right, Greg. She’s smart. They’re both of them smart girls, they take after me that way, thank God. Both of them straight A’s in school, and both of them know how to take care of themselves. I made sure of that.” “She taught me how to split firewood when Dad first left,” I threw in, because I felt like I had to talk eventually. “Got me a little tiny hatchet and put me on kindling. She and Nat talked me up like I’d saved us all from freezing to death. It was years before I realized that it must have taken way longer to watch me do it than it would have to do it herself.” Mom chuckled, and poured more wine all around. “We made a go of it, didn’t we? I think he expected us to all fall apart without him, but we managed.” “That must have been hard,” Greg said. “Oh in those days, everyone thought it was the hardest thing. All on the news, the divorce rates and the single mothers. Old women looking at me in Ames with so much pity. As though men haven’t been running off since forever.” Mom set the bottle down a little hard. “No offense.” “None taken,” Greg said as though it were a line on TV. “Natalie’s going to be fine, Joanne.” “I’m sure she will be,” Mom said. And then, as though it had just come to her, “We’ll see her in the spring, I bet. She’ll be sick of it by then.” I thought of Nat sick and sad with underlines and was quiet again. I wasn’t going to say anything to Mom, but I knew we wouldn’t see her in the spring. Snow fell before the next postcard came, but near Buffalo that’s not saying much, is it? This girl named Tammy is travelling with us now, this one said. She says she’s spent a lot of time in WNY, she’s even been to Mumford! She was trying to get home to Florida but she changed her mind and decided to go west with us. Then we found a lost kid in the road, a little black boy maybe two years old with no clothes on but a pair of underpants. I wanted to help him but he wouldn’t talk to me and he ran away, way faster than I would have thought a toddler could. Beth says more parents lose their kids out here than you’d think, and there’s nothing I can do. She looked upset about it though. The words at the end were cramped, like she’d been trying to squeeze in as much as she could, and the Love you always Little Mandy ran into the address part of the card. I flipped it over and looked at the picture, a steamboat on the Mississippi River. No word if it was snowing where she was, but snow never fell on steamboats, did it? Just in case, I bought her a pair of purple knit gloves with bright green turtles on them for Christmas, and a giant Toblerone. I put three maple leaves I’d saved from the front yard in the package too; one red, one orange, and a yellow one that still had some green on it when it fell. I wrapped it up and I put it under my bed, just in case. Of course it turned out to be just Mom and I on Christmas morning. Greg was with his sister and brother-in-law and their kids, though he’d promised to come by for dinner later. He’d helped us set up a tree that was taller than either of us, but that just meant that presents for two looked even lonelier underneath. The gloves Mom got me were black leather, with purple trim and cashmere on the inside. When I put them on they were a little small, but they felt like they would stretch. She got me boots, too, which I could tell from the box were from the consignment shop but they were pretty much like new. And a purse with a bird worked on it in leather. “I love these,” I said, sliding my hands back into the gloves to feel the cashmere again. “Thank you.” “Thank you,” Mom said to me, too fiercely, and then hugged me. “I know I went a bit crazy there when Nat left.” “I’m sure Nat didn’t mean all the things she said either.” Mom shook her head. “I wasn’t fair to you either. You’ve been a rock, Mandy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She squeezed me tighter, just for a second, and then let go. “Even if you do leave someday, I know at least you’d keep writing.” I thought about telling her about the postcards I’d hidden, but I wasn’t sure it was safe, and then the moment was gone. I don’t think it would have made any difference in the end, anyway. The next postcard proved that I shouldn’t have worried about snow. Nat was smart, like Mom had said. She was in Texas now, down on the Gulf coast. The card had a sea turtle on it and I smiled when I thought how happy she must have been when she found that. Her letters were loopy again too, although smaller now since she seemed to have realized she could write more that way. Finally met a cute guy out here on the road, she wrote, and of course, my luck, he’s a major faggot. Sweet kid though. Named Alejandro. He said there were like 30 other kids travelling with him but they all upped and disappeared on him a while back. So he’ll probably stick with us for a while. I could picture Nat giggling and sighing, what a waste, probably trying to pet his hair—not being mean about it but just typical thoughtless Nat. I hoped she didn’t pester this kid to death, but at the same time, thinking of her giggling was the best, so too bad for Alejandro. Beth says people disappear on the road a lot, the main thing is that we all have to stick together and not talk to cops, or even let them see us if we can help it. But sometimes you can’t, of course. Mostly never tell them your name. Never Tell a Cop Your Name, Little Mandy! was her sign-off. “Like I would,” I said out loud, and put the card with the others. Spring came early that year, and Greg had his motorcycle on the road by the middle of March. Lots of people had their motorcycles out early and lots of other people weren’t looking out for them. The only thing that made Greg’s accident different was that it was a hit-and-run. There was a long hunt for a dented car, a guilty conscience, or something, but they never found anyone. The only comfort was that Mom and Greg both died pretty much instantly. I just put my head down, the way I did when Dad and Nat left, and at first I thought that maybe it wasn’t so different being alone with the postcards all the time than it had been to be alone with them most of the time. But it was. Now that I had nothing I had to do and no one to do it for, I read over all the postcards two, three times a day and they were starting to get bent and soft at the corners, and that wasn’t ok. Besides, the part of my brain that wasn’t numb knew that Mom’s insurance money wouldn’t last that long even if I never felt like eating again. My old manager at Tractor Supply had always liked me, and felt bad for me now. She argued up the chain that I’d always been reliable until the one day I hadn’t, and I think she put that on Mom, although I didn’t ask. Mom had been known pretty well around town for her temper. Anyway, whatever she said worked, and I had a job again, although back down on the first rung being managed by kids two and three years younger than me. It wasn’t so bad. I swept up spilled birdseed, I put the Carhart jackets back in order, I worked the register. And every day I had a single moment of turning into the driveway and opening up the mailbox, instead of listening for the huskies all afternoon. The next postcard arrived about a week after I started working again, although it felt like the years and years that it should have taken the whole world to change. She’d made it to California, the land of dreams where we always talked about going, the place that we’d seen on TV. The postcard showed a Navy ship in blue water and said San Diego. Weirdest thing, it said on the back. Not long after we got here I saw a woman who looked just like Mom along the road. Just like her, Mandy. I stared at her and she stared at me but she turned away without saying anything. That wouldn’t be like Mom, would it? Not if she had something to say. And she was with some guy I didn’t recognize. So it probably wasn’t Mom. But I hope everything is ok at home . . . I don’t miss it, but I do miss you. Nat hadn’t written a date, she never did. But the postmark was from the day after Mom’s funeral. And it had just gotten here now. I was starting to think that maybe time worked a whole different way on the road Nat was on. But that was a crazy way to think, and I did worry a little bit, now that I had regular everyday people to compare myself to, that I might be going crazy. People did, after grief, in empty houses. One might pile beer bottles to the ceiling and another one might fill the barn and shed and house with cats that reeked of piss and someone else might get Jesus in a hard and peculiar way, but it was all the same crazy underneath. I didn’t want to go there. I’d only read the postcards every other day, I told myself. Or once a week. They’d last a lot longer if I only read them once a week, and I would too. I took every hour they would give me at Tractor Supply. That’s why I was working the closing shift the night Keith came through at five minutes to eight. He was lugging a fifty-pound bag of dog food and I think by the time he realized whose register he was at it was too late to walk away without dropping it. I didn’t let on that I recognized him at first. It was almost sort of believable that I wouldn’t—he’d let his dyed black hair grow back out to a dirty blond, and he looked a lot older now that he had when he and Nat left. Not quite a year ago. I hadn’t thought of it in terms of an actual date. Time worked weird here too. Only after I’d rung up the Alpo and taken his money, while I was handing him his receipt, did I say, “That wasn’t cool what you did to Nat.” I said it as quiet and calm as I could. I didn’t want the girls at the other registers to think I was making a scene like Mom would have done. He dropped the receipt and ran out without the dog food. I spent the rest of the night worrying that Strider was hungry. Nat wouldn’t have wanted that. He came back for the dog food in the morning when I wasn’t there, and I didn’t expect to see him again. But he did turn up, the next week when I had the same closing shift again. He grabbed one of the caramel nut logs we sold near the register, obviously just as an excuse. I never knew anyone to actually eat those things. “I didn’t do it,” he said as he handed me a five-dollar bill. “It was the guy who sold us the pills, I didn’t know.” I knew words were coming out of his mouth and he was shaking his head, but I didn’t really listen. “But you left her. You shouldn’t have left her out there.” He shook his head harder, and his greasy hair swung against his cheeks. “There was nothing I could do, Mandy. What could I do? I’m as sorry about it as anybody, what could I do? I couldn’t do any good.” He kept saying variations on that same sentence until I pushed the nut log into his hand. Then he looked down at it like he’d never seen one before and walked out. When I went out to the parking lot at nine I found the red nut log wrapper torn into a rough heart shape and stuck underneath my windshield wiper. I pulled it out and dropped it in a garbage can. I got the idea that I was supposed to take it home and keep it forever, maybe tuck it into a book as well, and now I knew how Mom felt to not do that. The crazy part of me wondered if Nat would know, somehow, in her next postcard but it was nothing like that. It was San Francisco, two men in cowboy hats and sunglasses and no shirts, a rude slogan that if Mom had been around I would have pretended not to get. I got Alejandro a hat just like that, cause he’s from Texas. Got, so stole, not bought. Good old Nat. He told Beth she should let him wear her suede jacket too, but of course she won’t. I love San Francisco, Mandy. I wish we could stay. The only bad thing that’s happened here is that Tammy disappeared on us, a couple of days ago. Maybe she told a cop her name? Anyway, that upset Beth of course and she says we have to keep moving, head north. I’m not sure why. But going to Seattle would be neat I guess. I’m not sure why that jogged my memory, it wasn’t like I read the news or watched it. But it had been on the front page, so maybe I’d just seen it out of the corner of my eye, or heard on the radio of a car with an open window, or some ladies had gossiped about it in line at McDonald’s while I was getting coffee. Nice old ladies like the saddest, grossest, and most violent crime stories to talk over when they’re out shopping. I tried to tell myself that this was it, for sure I was crazy, but I went to the library anyway and got the Buffalo News from two weeks ago Monday. Tammy Jordan had been dug up from a field a bit outside Honeoye Falls before I was born, and been Honey Doe all my life, a vague presence who only mattered when a bored tv reporter would try to stir up new leads. Until two weeks ago, when she’d been identified, finally, by an old woman who got around to watching an old taped episode of Unsolved Mysteries and saw that Honey Doe’s computer-reconstructed image had the uneven teeth and favorite t-shirt of her runaway niece. We Know Her Name, the headline said. What was left of her body now would be exhumed and sent back to be buried in the proper place, the waiting slot where she belonged, under the proper label. I was angry that they weren’t even going to ask her if she wanted to go back, until I realized how stupid that sounded. I sat in the library, not wanting to be alone, until it closed. Then I went home and stared at the dull, now curled-up pictures of Sleeping Bear Dunes still pinned to the back of my door. He’d left Nat somewhere all alone in those dark pines. And she’d found a way to walk out, to keep writing to me anyway. She loved me and missed me. I didn’t even have to put my head down to go on this time. It was already down. I didn’t quit Tractor Supply or cry in the shower or forget to eat, since I’d done all those things already. The only real change in my habits was that I stopped turning the lights on when I was at home. I knew where everything was and there was no one else who needed to see. Besides, the days were getting longer now. I was a little bit afraid that figuring it out would mean she wouldn’t write to me any more. That seemed like what would happen in a fairy tale. But thinking like that was crazy. And another postcard came the very next week, from Klamath Falls. A lake with a mountain poking up above it, covered in snow. Something’s going on, Mandy. We came up on this whole group of women . . . mostly women and young girls, some kids, some guys. Some of them knew Beth, and acted like they’d been expecting her. She was introducing me and Alejandro to everyone. Everyone’s excited. It’s like we’re on our way to a festival or something. There’s a woman who seems to be in charge, an Indian woman named Anna, and she has everyone organized like you wouldn’t believe and heading north so fast I barely had time to mail this. I’m gonna find out what’s going on as soon as I can and write you again, I bet this is gonna be good! I miss you so much, Little Mandy. I kept going to work, but people asked if I’d been sleeping. They could tell. The phone rang and I didn’t answer it. I felt as though I didn’t need even coffee, although somehow I found myself drinking more of it than ever, because I needed to walk out of Tractor Supply and into the air as often as I could get away with. I started bumming cigarettes and going on smoke breaks too, but people on smoke break wanted to talk and that was hard when I was filled with something no one could talk to me about except Nat. Only one thing mattered and that was launching through the days until I got to the next postcard. It reached me just in time. It was from Seattle, weirdly old-timey, black and white with horses in the street and men with hats, some kind of official-looking building. All the light parts, the sky between the buildings and the paler grey of the sidewalks, were filled with upside-down letters, printing much tighter than anything I’d ever seen from Nat before, spillover from a back crammed margin to margin with tiny letters—well, tiny for Nat, maybe not that tiny—except for the outlined box with my address and the tiny square for the stamp. They’d put a sticker with a barcode over part of it but I was able to peel it off, carefully, without pulling up any of the ink beneath. We’re going up the mountain. There are so many of us that soon they won’t be able to ignore us any more, Nat. Just the Indian girls—just from Vancouver and British Columbia alone—would be an army, and then so many from California, so many from Ohio, so many from Michigan, we’re from everywhere, every single state. Each of us alone they ignore, it was one bad pill or one bad man, we got in one wrong car, whatever. But together, if you don’t pull us apart and look at us one by one but all together, you see it’s not that. It’s much bigger. I didn’t realize myself until just now, Little Mandy. I thought it was my fault. I’m glad I can tell you so you don’t have to go around thinking that. So like I said, here I had to turn the card over, we’re going up the mountain. When we Come down, it will be in a way They can’t ignore. And until then we’ll be safe. I wish there were a way you could get here, it said across the broadest part of the sky, without you having to come by this road. I Love You and Miss You, Little Mandy. I had just put it into my copy of Little Women with the others when the doorbell rang. If they’d waited even half an hour more I’d have been crying and they might have won. But when the police were standing outside, all I could think was Never Tell a Cop Your Name, Little Mandy! and I didn’t. I nodded, and I even turned on the lights so they wouldn’t think I was weird, but that’s not the same. And when they held out the ring with the onyx chips like a turtle and asked about Nat, I said, no, my sister is fine. I just got a postcard from her.

From Horror photos & videos July 13, 2018 at 08:00PM

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - Church of the Holy Child

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THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

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The Church of the Holy Child

by Patricia Hale

on Tour August 15 – October 15, 2017

Synopsis:

A woman with a history of domestic abuse is missing. Her sister hires private investigators Cole and Callahan.

When the woman is found dead, her husband is charged but when a second body appears showing the same wounds, questions arise and what looked like a slam-dunk becomes anyone’s guess. The case goes to John Stark, a veteran cop and close friend of Griff Cole.

The bodies are piling up, and one person knows where the killer is. Father Francis, a priest at The Church of the Holy Child, listens to the killer’s disturbed account of each murder and wrestles with the vows that bind him to secrecy.

The case takes an unexpected and personal turn when Cole’s ex-wife goes missing and a connection to his past points to the killer.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Suspense Published by: Intrigue Publishing LLC Publication Date: August 15th 2017 Number of Pages: 259 ISBN: 1940758599 (ISBN13: 9781940758596) Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗

Read an excerpt:

Inside the wooden confessional there’s a man who talks to God. At least that’s what my mother told me the last time we were here. But a month has passed since she disappeared so today I’ve come to the church alone. I no longer believe that she’s coming back for me like she said. Instead, I’ve become her stand-in for the beatings my father dishes out. That’s what he calls it, dishing out a beating, like he’s slapping a mound of mashed potato on my plate. He swaggers through the door ready for a cold one after coming off his seven to three shift, tosses his gun and shield on our kitchen table and reaches into the refrigerator for a Budweiser. I cringe in the corner and make myself small, waiting to hear what kind of day he’s had and whether or not I’ll be his relief. More often than not, his eyes search me out. “’C’mere asshole,” he says, popping the aluminum top, “I’m gonna dish out a beating.” If anyone can help me, it has to be this guy who talks to God. I open the door of the confessional with my good arm and step inside.

Twenty-three years later

ONE

His breath was warm on my neck, his lips hot and dry. His tongue searched the delicate skin below my ear. Heart quickening, back arching, I rose to meet him.

The phone on the nightstand vibrated.

“Shit,” Griff whispered, peeling away from me, our clammy skin reluctant to let go. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and flashed me his bad-boy, half-smile. “Cole,” he said into the phone.

At times like this, cell phones rate right alongside other necessary evils like cod liver oil and flu shots. I leaned against his back and caressed his stomach, damp dunes of sculpted muscle. Not bad for a guy north of forty. Griff still measured himself against the hotshots in the field. But in my book he had nothing to worry about; I’d take the stable, wise, worn-in model over a wet behind the ear, swagger every time.

He pried my fingers from his skin and walked toward the bathroom still grunting into the phone.

I slipped into my bathrobe and headed for the kitchen. I have my morning priorities and since the first one was interrupted by Griff’s phone, coffee comes in a close second.

Twenty minutes later he joined me dressed in his usual attire, jeans, boots, tee shirt and sport jacket. Coming up behind me, he nuzzled my neck as I poured Breakfast Blend into a travel mug. Coffee splashed onto the counter top.

“Gotta run,” he said taking the cup from my hand.

“What’s up?”

“Not sure yet. That was John. He said he could use a hand.

“Sobering up?

Griff flinched like I’d landed one to his gut.

“Sorry,” I said. “Cheap shot.”

“Woman found dead early this morning.”

“When’s he going to admit that he can’t run the department with a pint of scotch sloshing around in his gut?”

“The job’s all he’s got left, makes it hard to let go.”

“I’m just saying that he shouldn’t be head of CID. Not now. I’m surprised Haggerty has put up with it this long.”

“There’s a lot going down at the precinct. Internal Affairs is having a field day after that meth bust.

They’ve got so many guys on leave right now that a bottle of Dewar’s in John’s desk is the least of Haggerty’s problems.”

“I just don’t want you to get sucked into CID.”

He slipped his hands inside my robe and nuzzled my neck. “No chance of that. Nobody on the force feels like this.”

I pushed him away halfheartedly.

I’ll call you when I know what’s going on.”

The door closed behind him.

I sank onto a kitchen chair and flipped open the People magazine lying on the table. Griff and I had just finished an investigation for an heiress in the diamond industry whose sticky handed husband had resorted to blackmailing her brother as a way around their pre-nup. The ink on her twenty-thousand-dollar check made out to Cole & Co. was still wet. And being that I was the & Co. part of the check, I’d earned a leisurely morning.

The phone rang just as I was getting to the interview with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell on the secrets of a long-term relationship. Caller ID told me it was Katie Nightingale, our go-to girl at the office. Katie kept track of everything from appointments to finances to take-out menus.

I lifted the phone and hit ‘answer’.

“Britt?” Katie spoke before I had a chance, never a good sign.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Missing woman.”

“Since when?”

“Last night.”

“What makes her missing? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

“The woman who called said her sister was leaving an abusive husband and was supposed to let her know when she was safe by ringing the phone once at seven-thirty. The call never came. Now she can’t get hold of her. She said her sister carries your card in her wallet.”

“What’s her name?”

“The woman who called is Beth Jones. Her sister is Shirley Trudeau.”

I nodded into the phone. I can’t remember every woman I encounter, but Shirley’s name rang a bell. Since giving up my position as a Family Law attorney with Hughes and Sandown, I’d been offering free legal aid for women who needed advice but couldn’t afford it. Mostly I worked with wives trying to extricate themselves from abusive marriages. Given the reason I’d abandoned my law career, it was the least I could do. Shirley hadn’t been living at the women’s shelter, but she’d spent enough time there to have Sandra, the shelter’s director, hook her up with me.

“And Beth thinks Shirley’s husband found her?”

“That’s what it sounded like once she’d calmed down enough to form actual words.”

“I’m on my way.”

I set the phone down, making a mental note to call Sandra. She’d upgraded from a caseworker in Connecticut to Director in Portland, Maine a few months ago. I’d stopped by her office to introduce myself when she started and left my business cards. Our paths didn’t cross that often but we respected each other’s work and always took a few minutes to chat. I knew she’d been on the swim team in college and that she could bench-press her weight. We were close in age and like minded when it came to the politics of non-profits. No doubt Beth Jones had called her too.

After a shower and a quick clean up of last night’s wine glasses, Chinese takeout containers and clothes that we’d left strewn around the living room, I locked the apartment door and began my fifteen-minute trek to our office on Middle Street. I savored my walk through the Old Port, the name given to Portland, Maine’s waterfront. The summer heat that a month ago had my shirt stuck tight against my back was a thing of the past and the snow and ice that would make walking an athletic event had not yet arrived. The cool, crisp air was like a shot of espresso. As long as I didn’t let my mind wander to what nature had in store, I could enjoy the rush.

I hit “contacts” on my phone and scanned the names for Sandra’s.

“Sandra, it’s Britt,” I said when she answered. “I wish this was a social call, but it’s not. Shirley Trudeau is missing.

“I know. Her sister called this morning. I’m on my way in now. How did you find out?”

“Her sister hired us to find her. “Was someone helping her leave?”

“She had a caseworker, but I wasn’t in on the plan. I’ll know more once I get to my office and talk to the person she was working with.”

“Okay if I call you later?”

“I don’t know how much I’ll be able to tell you. You know the rules. If she was on her way…”

I stopped mid-stride and lowered the phone from my ear. Sandra’s voice slipped away. That dead body that Griff went to look at… my gut said, Shirley Trudeau.

***

Excerpt from The Church of the Holy Child by Patricia Hale. Copyright © 2017 by Patricia Hale. Reproduced with permission from Patricia Hale. All rights reserved.

  Author Bio:

Patricia Hale received her MFA degree from Goddard College. Her essays have appeared in literary magazines and the anthology, My Heart’s First Steps. Her debut novel, In the Shadow of Revenge, was published in 2013. The Church of the Holy Child is the first book in her PI series featuring the team of Griff Cole and Britt Callahan. Patricia is a member of Sister’s in Crime, Mystery Writer’s of America, NH Writer’s Project and Maine Writer’s and Publisher’s Alliance. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and two dogs.

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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Patricia Hale. There will be 1 winners of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card! The giveaway begins on July 16 and runs through October 19, 2017.

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BLOG TOUR – Church of the Holy Child was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf with Shannon Muir