#but uh... yup Alex has trauma now

[legolasghosty]

Yeah @innytoes has captured me with fae magic and now I'm hooked on her Kidnapped by the Fae AU so... I'm sorry.

Alex couldn't sleep. Like he actually physically couldn't fall asleep. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago. Even Willie had drifted off on the couch, their breaths coming out in little adorable hums. But Alex couldn't drift off, no matter how hard he tried.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see were the dark trees, the twinkling lights, the swirling figures, the constant demands for faster, Faster, FASTER! as his hands flew over the drums. And his own body, helpless to do anything but obey. To serve his master. With pure devotion and without question.

Each time the fae went to sleep, Alex never could. The feeling of suddenly having control of his own limbs was too odd. Too unfamiliar. Too much.

And now it was like that all the time. If he wanted to stand up, he could. If he wanted to stay exactly where he was, no invisible strings stopped him. It was incredible. It was freeing. It was terrifying.

Because with no one to tell him what to do and where to go, no intangible hand on the back of his neck directing him, how could he know if he was doing it right?

The Molinas had been kind so far. They'd allowed them to live in their garage, eat their food, even loaned them some of the father's old clothes to wear. They'd shown them the magic of new technology, though that wasn't always the smoothest lesson. Alex grimaced at the memory of when sparks had suddenly begun to fly from the microwave because Luke had put that...tinfoil? stuff inside with his food. The Molinas had been upset but hadn't hurt them over it. They'd been kind. But the fae had been kind at first too.

At first, Alex had wondered if he'd died, alone in the forest, and was in some form of afterlife. He was offered food and fine clothing and music by the effervescent beings that inhabited this new plane. They'd enjoyed his drumming and hadn't seemed to mind when his eyes drifted to a young man with dark hair and a smile that made Alex's heart skip a beat.

They had been kind and welcoming to him. Until he made a mistake.

Things changed after that. Who was to say that wouldn't happen again? That the Molinas wouldn't run out of patience with him and he wouldn't become a prisoner and an outcast yet again.

Alex knew it would happen. It had happened with his first two homes, why not this one? So if he wanted to stay here, with his family and his lover, he couldn't make any mistakes. Couldn't give them any reason to throw him away like the used toy he was. But how could he know what was wrong if no one was directing his every move?

He couldn't. So he was doomed.

"Alex?"

Alex jumped, almost losing his footing on the dark tiles of the house roof. He whirled around to see Julie, the girl who had first found them, staring at him through an open, second-story window.

"What are you doing out on the roof?" she asked, blinking rapidly.

Oh. Well, this must be it. Alex thought he could hold out a bit longer.

"I'm so sorry, I know I shouldn't be on the house," he said quickly, holding out hope that maybe she would at least let him stay till morning. "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake anyone and I knew there weren't any bedrooms around here so I just... I'm sorry-"

"Woah, slow down," Julie said, cutting him before he could say anything else. "No need to be sorry, you're not doing anything wrong, I just... wasn't expecting to see you sitting on the roof of my house at 3 am."

"Oh," Alex said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. She wasn't upset?

"Also, I know you have the whole-" Julie waved a hand around helplessly, "-magic thing going on, but hanging out on the roof isn't exactly the safest spot."

Alex shrugged. "I didn't think anyone would care," he replied honestly. Willie might be a little sad if he fell off the roof and broke his neck, but they'd get over it. There were so many people in the world to love, Willie wouldn't be alone for long.

Julie frowned. "Of course we would care if you got hurt," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "You did see how freaked my dad got the other day when Reggie burned himself on the stove, right?" She took a deep breath, then added, "You guys may not have come into our lives in a very...traditional way, but you're family now."

Alex was helpless to do anything but stare at her. Because, well, 'family' by blood wasn't something he had much respect for, but the way she said it felt more like when Luke called them that, back before they escaped. Like it actually meant something real.

"Note to self, Alex has even bigger trust issues than I thought," Julie muttered around a yawn. Then she offered him a hand. "Come on, we can crash on the couches downstairs and watch a movie or something. Just chill out for a bit."

It felt like a trap. A personal invitation into someone's space had always been a trap in the fae realm. But...maybe that wasn't how it was here? At least not with Julie?

Alex bit his lip, but accepted her hand and clambered in through the open window.

"Come on, I need to show you Dirty Dancing," Julie decided, keeping hold of his hand as she closed the window and led him downstairs. "I think you'll love it!"

And Alex did. Or at least he loved the first 30 minutes of it that he was awake for.

[tedturneriscrazy]

And here we are with Yesterday's Lie, the season 2A finale!

Wow, this came up quick, huh?

Anyways...

What are you doing with all that, not-Luz?

(Also, cute photo of younger Luz. She had hair!)

That musical cue when not-Luz adjusted her hair was rather unnerving

Judging by Camila's reaction to that box being set out, she wasn't lying when she said she loved Luz's creativity

Freeing the rabbit from the trap did a lot to establish more of Camila's character. I'm glad we're finally getting more of her.

OH SHIT REAL LUZ IN THE MIRROR

"Are you sure this isn't gonna blow our faces off?" "Nope!"

That's a rather eclectic collection of ingredients for the door

I wonder if Amity also provided the abomination head

Group hug❤

There's the trailer shot

You only appear in reflections, huh? Interesting...

Jeez, Luz, priorities!

(Oh who am I kidding, the fact she's still thinking about her girlfriend is adorable)

I do love it when her accent comes through

Whoops, looks like wherever this is the magic of the Isles doesn't reach

Previously unmentioned dad whose face is obscured in the photo

GASP

Spider-Man moment

Oh, voice change in not-Luz!

Classic "I ain't goin' back, man!" moment

Also, it's beta Luz's bat!

"Monster Slayer Academia" I'm not entirely sure that doesn't actually exist...

"I will never understand anime..."😂😂😂

Oh, true form time!

Vee's gonna be a fan favorite, isn't she? (I ask, full well knowing the answer)

I mean, I've already seen plenty of Luca x Owl House fan art, so I imagine that may intensify

Luz seems to be quite understanding all things considered. I suppose all the people in the "Doppelganger isn't evil, actually" camp have been vindicated.

Oh, Eda

I don't think I like that camera...

So Gravesfield, Connecticut, huh?

Welp, there's a statue of a man that's probably Philip Wittebane

Oh, partially transformed Vee is gonna be irresistible to fanartists

Witch obsessed guy? Pamphlets? Hmm...

Wait, MARILYN?! As in Stan's ex?!

(I know she wasn't actually since the two shows don't take place in the same universe, but no way that nod wasn't deliberate)

"She tried to pay for a latte with a live raccoon" Eda I'm saying this in the nicest way possible: What the fuck

Those rats...buh

"BREAD OF WISDOM GRANTS US SPEECH! WE DESIRE MORE!"

Can't say I don't relate to Vee wrt confrontation

Luz has definitely had some...previous experiences with other kids. Creepy talking rats? Yes. Human high schoolers? No thank you.

Oh, fellow campers! Luz isn't the only one who had off-screen experiences.

That reading seemed...ominous

Right...contacts...

Side note: seems like that camp doesn't stomp out weirdness as thoroughly as previously speculated

Oh shit it's Sonic the Hedgehog! I mean Warden Wrath! I mean Roger Craig Smith!

I saw someone take issue with how Vee reacted to Luz running away to the Demon Realm, but considering her past experience and trauma, her reaction is understandable

Belos I don't care how much of a foxy grandpa you are, you fucking suck

"Skin's sure weird!"

She took the day off work to drive "Luz" to camp I just😭

Whether you think camp was a bad idea or not, Camila's a good mom

Oh dear, Sonic is a conspiracy bro

I guess we know who set up that camera. And the traps.

Oh, seems Eda didn't have elixir with her on one of her trips to the human realm...

"After watching a few Mew-tube videos I learned the truth!" Yup he's a conspiracy bro. Goddamnit, Sonic!

(I can rag on Sonic the Hedgehog all I want, I've been into the games since the Genesis days, well before most of y'all were even born)

Luz having a "BOI" moment

This guy definitely watches Alex Jones. Props to the TOH crew for teaching a new generation about these conspiracy creeps.

Vee is accustomed to a life on the run, but apparently not with Luz's determination and quick thinking.

Also, all this talk about being "outed?" Yeah I'm definitely seeing the trans allegory everyone's talking about.

Now Luz turns to the one person who can help

That "boop"❤ (Now we know where Luz gets it from)

Camila not believing all the Demon Realm stuff. Shocked. SHOCKED, I say.

Well shit, Camila's been a veterinarian all this time! Don't we all have egg on our faces!

It would explain how Luz is so good with animals

Sonic the Curator sure is something, huh

The scary thing is that there are people like him in real life. Worse, even.

Okay, I know this is a dire situation, but I am enamored with Camila's mom energy here. She's adorable.

Dude with a ponytail and cardinal on his shoulder to send the theorists in a tizzy. It'll be interesting to see how this all eventually comes together.

I just realized that that's a training wand on the table

And now Camila realizes this is no game

Further props to the TOH crew for making the antagonist of the episode a crackpot white dude. This is correct.

Yup, further trans allegory. Plus a nice example of a supportive-if-not-quite-understanding-everything parent.

And there's Camila going ham on a motherfucker. Turns out there was no lie in the "Two Truths and a Lie!" Rather, the lie was that there was a lie in the first place...My brain hurts.

Oh, she can appear in the rain. That's cool!

Now is time for Real Sad Hours

The way Camila is reacting...god...it hurts...

"Is this the only way I can touch you?" STOP😢

"Staying here was the best decision I ever made!" Uh oh...

That promise is totally not gonna come back up later in the most tragic, gutwrenching way possible. Nope. Nuh uh. No way that'll happen.

Dammit, Luz, not more lies! Oh, right. The episode title.

Her face really says it all.

Well, it wasn't quite the continuous pain train we convinced ourselves it was gonna be, but that ending? Ow. I'm glad Vee has the support she needs, but my heart hurts for the Nocedas. I really hope they can resolve the issues they clearly still have, because damn.

And now we get to chew on all that for the next however many months! Hooray! I knew I said I was ready for a hiatus, but it turns out I'm a big fat liar, because I'm not! Augh!

Well, I'll try to look on the bright side: At least my sleep schedule can normalize again? Also I can cancel my Sling subscription once 6-10 drop on D+. Neither DisneyNow nor Sling are optimal VOD experiences.

[eyrieofsynapses]

so today I just watched the first episode of Almost Paradise! And I’ve gotta say, I am impressed. I already had it on my watchlist but I was planning to wait to watch it for a while until I could let Eliot fade a bit from memory, just so I wouldn’t automatically think of him while watching Kane. But I ran into an article this weekend about how it was filmed in the Philippines and the details of that, and my curiosity was piqued considerably more, so I figured... why not? 

(I also started White Collar this weekend and that was very enjoyable, but that’s a post for another day.) 

Anyway, my brain’s buzzing now, so have some first impressions and reactions, plus initial meta-analysis because I am intrigued. In hindsight I probably should have recorded first impressions while I was watching, but I’ll do my best to remember the bits that stuck out. Warning for... exceedingly long post.

ooo, okay, so he’s got a medical condition. I faaaaintly remember reading about this in the summary but I didn’t pay much attention to that, oops.

telling a guy played by Chris Kane not to get his heartrate up! that’s definitely gonna happen. definitely. one hundred percent. not like this guy loves fighting or anything

(also tbh the joke about, ah, sexual dysfunction admittedly left a sour taste in my mouth, because I do not go for that kind of thing, but... this is Devlin and Kane, so I’m trusting, based off Leverage experience, that they aren’t gonna be too inappropriate. [In hindsight there are actually interesting meta reasons for this so the sour taste has dissipated somewhat.])

this poor doctor. she’s so done with him. 

...he’s definitely not gonna pay attention to the monitor is he

that journal’s gonna get zero use oop

(I was duly impressed when he actually did use it later)

huh, liking how we immediately dive into the effect tourism has had on the Philippines. so we’re getting some commentary here too? I can deal with that

...wow. bad shop. eek

I’m sorry but I am loving the touch with the floorboards and such breaking beneath Alex. the look on his face is just perfect

and the monitor goes off! for tbh the last reason I expected it to first go off for, excellent 

MOTORCYLE? did they give him a motorcycle?!

awww no it’s the baddies who have the motorcycle :(

hmm this should be interesting. loving the look of this leader guy tho

--aaaand good asthetic guy is dead! with an ice pick! creepy and creative! 

bar. no way this could go wrong

internal battle! understandable that Alex wants out, buuuuuuut if he’s anything like I suspect he is--

--yup, picking a fight, with a damn pool cue--

--not picking a fight?

...picking a fight. by being friendly. *sigh*

yuuuuuuuup. that’s definitely good for your heart

badass fighting scene! with a pool cue, that’s a new one! love seeing Kane take ordinary objects and turn them into fighting tools

(ngl this had Eliot vibes. that said I am thrilled to see how damn good these fight scenes are and this is making me even more excited for Redemption)

aaaaaaaaaand oh fuck this was a police setup. which. I actually did not see coming, huh

ahahah they’re pissed! because he messed up their bust? or because he just saved their asses? 

...probably technically the former but I suspect the latter is also true

refusing to get Involved being foreshadowed by his indecision earlier! of course he’s going to get Involved anyway, only question is how

“hitter” I SEE YOU. I SEE YOU AND YOUR REFERENCES. I SEE YOU DEVLIN AND KANE

pfffffffffffFFFFFT the meditation, oh gods

that voice. oh Alex. 

I genuinely cannot tell if this is him actually trying or if this is him begrudgingly making an attempt because he has to

lacquering(?) the doors, which, hey, actually look pretty nice--this place is gonna look good when it’s done isn’t iii--

oh fuck Alex is being attacked

(this is definitely something to be concerned about. yes. totally. not like we haven’t already seen him take down a bunch of guys.)

with a garrot! this is definitely totally not how he’s gonna get Involved

oh my gods the detail with the paint. nothing says Competent like getting irritated at how the baddie interrupted your house restoration

hehehehe Involved

oooh, hmm, he thinks they sent the guy after him? what kind of corruption has Alex faced? I mean it’s not an unreasonable fear, but jeez, it sounds like this has happened to him before. doesn’t say much good about the DEA...

huh, this is a level of disturbed I haven’t seen from Kane before. which, granted, I have only seen him in Leverage, but I’ve never seen him pull this out before. the voice crack is an excellent touch

also, worth noting, Alex is definitely a notable level of... hmm, paranoid? this is just a tad bit frantic, though that’s understandable from a guy who almost got killed while in the middle of an attempted meditation

oh god being cocky in the middle of a briefing. poor Kai 

--being cocky and competence porn! of course he takes the watch and turns it into a lesson

...he must be a hell of a teacher

(also, bonus points for actually using the journal. maybe he’s taking this health thing more seriously than I thought he would?)

may I repeat: COMPETENCE PORN

uh-huh, you’re so not involved, definitely, Alex, not like you’re gonna get pulled straight into this or anything

Ernesto is just watching to see how things play out, Kai is... trying to do things the right way, and Alex...

...Alex gives precisely zero fucks. buddy you are so not subtle

right, walking straight into the lion’s den! radiating confidence! terrifying

this is a disturbing level of truth he’s sharing for this lie. I mean, best lies are crafted from truth, but... jeez

hm. so is Alex also a “I don’t like guns” type guy? 

(probably not for the same reasons as Eliot doesn’t [his is definitely more in the “they make it too easy to kill” department whereas I would guess Alex has either more tactical or PTSD reasons], but, hmm. this is something to watch for)

(did they know they were bringing back Leverage when they set up Almost Paradise? I’m genuinely wondering if they didn’t write some Eliot traits into Alex specifically bc they knew Kane missed playing him)

this is a fantastically confident level of grifting--what exactly did he do in the DEA, precisely?

...ah. cool asthetic guy. stuffed in the freezer. gotta admit, I definitely didn’t see that one coming. creepy! 

(and it looks like you actually managed to shake Alex a little, hah)

aaaaaand in the meantime we have Kai following his advice! in an... interesting way. hm. 

(surprisingly this does not annoy me that much in hindsight. not sure why)

and understandably, this does not go over well! except, oh, fuck, DEA guy. this ain’t gonna be good

...worse. worse than I thought. what happened to you, Alex? former partner? whaaat

“attacks”? 

this gonna be the typical “traumatized white dude has Anger Attacks” type thing? 

honestly I immediately went “probably not” given how it was handled in Leverage. wasn’t sure though. but that does leave the question of what sort of attacks? it doesn’t seem like it’d be meltdowns, so what does that leave? 

hmmm. DEA guy is an Ass. we Do Not Like him. I’ve known Alex for less than half an hour but you do not do that to him. you do not use trauma against your guy, Jerkface. 

cutting a deal? this should be interesting

...well shit. I. am sincerely hoping Kai isn’t about to walk in on anything too bad

this definitely isn’t gonna be a fight though, that I called right off the bat

--bottles. dammit

oh, Christ. attempted OD or just drunk?

just drunk! good! well, very Not Good, but better than the other thing

pffffft dunking him in the water and then him going straight back to the water when he sees her, that is both absolutely hilarious and deeply concerning

aaand I’m agreeing with Kai but also, poor guy just got confronted with a hell of a lot of things that would raise his trau--

...mm. yeah. that’d be it. 

...I. was. not expecting that much backstory info straight off. holy cow, Alex. that is. messed up. someone get this man a hug

“one of the guys that cared too much”

(...like you?)

(or is that why you won’t let yourself care now?)

fuck, there was a lot more to that boat scene than I thought. ow

partner who betrayed him like that? I’m just. gods. 

Trust Issues is definitely gonna be a Thing isn’t it

can we just take a second to appreciate how Christian Kane is playing the absolute hell out of this character

aaaand Kai brings him back to the city for a Heartwarming Reminder of why he was in the game! this is very tropey but it is, as John Rogers has pointed out, an instance of the “well-worn writing tool” rather than feeling cheesy! 

holy crap Kai has lost. a lot of people. oh man

ahahahaha classic “why did you bring me here?” line! you know why, Alex. you know why

oh, and Ernesto gets a chance to help him out! I’m already enjoying this so much

awww and Kai shows up to help encourage him! with coffee! supportive friend and very obvious but honestly okay love interest! good!!!

(what the heck is with Devlin and his crew and sticking Kane with two besties? based on Ernesto’s dynamic with him I’m guessing this isn’t gonna be an OT3 but. I am loving the trend)

“I’m gonna regret this in the morning” pfft

huh, working with the DEA agents. not like he’s gonna go off script or anything. that’s totally not gonna happen is it

hehe irritated look while they’re putting on the mic. he is so very unimpressed

--”little episodes”--episodes? 

moment of appreciation for the un-forced-feeling diversity in these police squads

“how’s the anxiety?” I’m sorry what

hold up, when we say “episodes”--are we talking panic attacks? does Alex have actual goddamn anxiety? 

...actually with PTSD? that would make complete sense. I am... intrigued. I am really hoping that that’s the case, actually, because having seen how well they handled Parker and her PTSD in Leverage (as well as Nate’s and Eliot’s) I have a lot of faith that they could pull that off really well, actually. That would be good. 

ppFFFT TAKING OFF THE WIRES RIGHT OFF THE BAT

wait what. you’re telling them everything? what’s your game here? 

“get that frikkin gun outta my face!” yup, not a fan of guns! no disarming though? huh

(also can we just. appreciate how Kane manages to make “frikkin” sound just as much like the cuss it’s replacing?)

(LET ALEX SAY FUCK)

oh. OH

hi Ernesto! hi Kai! I see what y’all doing

ohhhhhhhhhh Alex you goddamn genius. Getting rid of all of the drugs so there’s no way the precise thing he was claiming to be doing can happen. I like this

THE MEDITATION COMING ON ON THE RECORDING I CAN’T--OH MY GODS

Alex please tell me you know how to disarm a gun. please. guns are not effective at that distance

OH. OH I DID NOT SEE KAI COMING. 

got ‘em! murder confession, how did I not see that coming? good stuff

Kai can fight! 

KAI CAN FUCKING FIGHT WOW

I am very much appreciating Kai right now

also is that a FLYING KICK from Ernesto?

they better give these people more fight scenes

aaaaand straight into the water, oh god. I’m assuming this was a choice made because Alex is familiar with this territory? ...I do not think I want to know where Alex learned to fight underwater.

(I really really really want to know.) 

how the fuck has your monitor not gone off by now Alex

choking him out underwater, okay, wow 

what size are your lungs? this is long

extra kudos for excellent underwater filming and wow I am hoping the actors actually came up for air

(this is also unreasonably beautiful for a scene where you’re choking out a drug lord. the water is so pretty)

Evil DEA guy (no I am not going to learn his name, he doesn’t deserve it) is gonna be Alex’s Agent Sterling, isn’t he? this should be interesting

heh, police chief is taking his side! good stuff, good stuff

(it is very nice to see Alex getting some people in his corner after knowing what hell the DEA put him through)

Alex has fallen so damn hard for Kai. this is very very adorable actually

awww he’s really getting into fixing up the shop, isn’t he? I’m sincerely looking forward to seeing how he gets this up and going, it really looks like he’s enjoying himself

somehow I am starting to wonder if the cocky “oh yeah I’m opening up a gift shop how exciting huh” thing at the start wasn’t... actually genuine. he... is enjoying this, isn’t he? good. very good

I am unreasonably invested in this man’s wellbeing for one episode in

!!!!!!!!! HE GETS HIS PARADE

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

giving him his reason to keep going! yes! yessss

oh Alex you are attached now. you are very attached. good luck my dude and don’t let the trust issues get in the way

this is a good show. this is a heckin awesome show. 

also, side note, it is SO PRETTY

I am just loving loving loving all of the scenery. competence porn AND landscape and city porn. beautiful. perfection. excellent

...that was. much longer than I anticipated oops 

anyway, conclusion: hot damn this is a fun show! I am very excited to keep watching this. Alex officially has my heart, even if he’s a bit of a cocky bastard sometimes. Kane is fucking hilarious. (More reasons to be excited for Redemption!) Kai and Ernesto also have my heart, and I am extremely interested to see their character development. 

Honestly, the beauty is surprising. I didn’t expect to just enjoy how pretty it is. The blues of the ocean, the intense tropical colors, even the run-down gift shop--there’s such a gorgeous aesthetic to it all. If I wasn’t already invested in the characters and plot, I’d be invested for that alone. 

So... I have some thoughts on Alex and the show structure.

He’s obviously very disillusioned. There’s a lot of nods to the idea of war--he’s commonly referring to himself as a soldier, as a veteran, maybe as a casualty. I’m gonna take a totally wild guess here and say this show is going to be focused on the drug issues in the Philippines. (Wow, Synapse, how the heck’d you guess that?) I do find describing the war on drugs as a war, and going into the terminology that comes with it, very appropriate, and I like how this show is actively calling this to attention rather than using it as a convenient plot. They’re actually addressing the issue and discussing its impact. And given how overlooked certain aspects of the impact of the drug war on the Philippines is, this is a good choice, especially in order to alert American viewers to the issue. I’m curious to see how they handle that.

Again, interesting drawing parallels to war, too, and comparing it against the likes of WWI and Vietnam. It really gives that sense of weight to the issue and defines a vital aspect of it: the impact of the war on drugs on the people involved. It emphasizes that the people who are fighting it suffer consequences and PTSD just as a soldier in the field does, and it also emphasizes, with Kai, that it isn’t just the people actively fighting who bear the consequences. It’s also the people on the sidelines--it’s the families, the people on the streets by the gunfights, the economical impact, etcetera. 

But there’s also an element to Alex’s character that automatically makes him relatable to a lot of people... and it has nothing to do with the PTSD, nothing to do with the war on drugs, nothing really to do with the main issues. It is, simply, the intense hopelessness and depression that comes with trying to make a difference. In his case it’s making a difference on a severe worldwide issue. But the vast majority, if not all, of Almost Paradise’s audience should be able to relate to a feeling of never doing enough. And there’s certainly a large section of that group who can relate to being part of a fight that never seems to end. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing--if it’s driven at helping, it rarely ever feels like you ever do enough. But the advice given is excellent. One of the best things to do, when you’re feeling hopeless over this, is to focus on and take deep joy in the impact you do make. 

Alex is an expression of a frustration that a lot of people deal with. This, I think, is one of the reasons why he instantly drew me--and presumably the rest of the audience--in (outside of a fantastic actor and great humor). He’s relatable. He’s something that most people can see a part of themselves in. 

Anyway, symbolism and real-world talk aside, this is just... fun. It’s genuine fun. We’re covering rough issues, but there’s a lot of well-written tropes in here too that are written in that way that makes them enjoyable to relive rather than painful. The humor is delightful and plentiful. There’s a lot of beautiful feel-good moments. I’m suspecting this’ll be a comfort show, and I am perfectly all right with that. 

Onto the next episode!

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 8: Second Chances

Chapter summary: Aftermaths of the Wolf’s escape & two painfully, oblivious pining idiots. 

Warnings: mention of stitches, old scars. (3502 words)

28 October 2019, 2330 "Alexis" and "Alex" | Codename Aces CIA with SAS and Urzik militia Sakhra, Urzikstan

    "Stop moving," Alia grumbled exasperatedly for the fifth time. Her nimble fingers were supposed to make stitching up Alexis' gnarly forehead gash easy—if she could stay still. Then again, nobody could sit still through that without anaesthetic.

Begging for a distraction, Alexis' teeth scraped against her pale lips and her fingernails subconsciously dup deeper into Farah's arm with every stitch.

"I don't know why you do this without painkillers," Alia mumbled absentmindedly, every movement meticulous. It went unanswered, for Alexis refused to supply the 16-year-old with more horror. A few more stitches later, the young girl leaned back and smiled.

Thank Heavens. High pain tolerance, sure, but needles... Alexis was wise enough to stay far away.

Alexis' impatiently patted the medical gauze, nodding at the decent patch-up. Of course the Marines had professional medics on deck, but when Alexis awoke, she felt responsible for Alia's red-rimmed eyes and loud sniffles. So, pain be damned.

Alia scowled, swatting her nosy hand, "No! Do you want an infection?"

"I am older than you," Alexis reminded.

"Yes. More stupid too."

Bewildered, her neck craned towards Farah, jaw-slacked at the commander's blatant shrug in agreement. Overwhelmed by the thunderous support, "This is a mutiny of some sorts..."

"Uh-oh, your boyfriend is coming," the young girl loudly announced. Her accusation reeled stares from closer bystanders.

Heat found its way to Alexis' cheeks, spreading under Farah and Alia's teasing grins. Dizziness soon trickled in, forcing her to blink rapidly in an attempt to concentrate past the nasty headache. "Alex is not my boyfriend."

"Did I say it was Alex?"

Farah huffed, bumping fists with the younger. The conniving duo displayed megawatt smiles when Alex and Kyle came into hearing distances. Holding a box of ration packs, Kyle gestured for them to take their pick. That knocked their smugness off.

Alex plopped beside her, eating out of his rations. "Tell me you feel better," he more than demanded, giving her battered state a once-over. His eyes lingered on her forehead.

"Am I supposed to lie?"

A shadow flickered past his face, "Should I bench you?"

"Yes, if you wish to die in your sleep," her quick movements to snatch away his wristwatch communicator intensified the pain. "Although blunt force trauma is not as deadly as this headache."

"Crack another joke and I'll deliver you to Price," Alex threatened at her lightheartedness. Though his menace soon faltered at her radiant grin.

"Boss is not in a good mood," Kyle chimed in.

"Mutiny..." Alexis mumbled. "Fine, no more jokes about concussions."

The group chatted about their game plan for tomorrow when a rude growling stomach sounded. It certainly didn't go unnoticed by Alex, who willingly gave up his rations. Packaged pasta had never tasted better, she mumbled gratefully, "Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

Alex laughed, "Now I know you hit your head too hard."

"Would you be open to the idea of getting matching injuries?"

"Are you flirting with me?"

"No, it's just in season," Alexis shook her head, bemused. "Shut up and eat your veggies, you're giving me another headache."

The scorching look of triumph was clear in Farah and Alia's expressions and for the same reason, she purposefully evaded their eyes.

"I thought the CIA frowned upon dating in the circle?" Kyle asked casually.

The unexpectable question forced her to choke, coughing loud enough to render someone patting her back. Alexis flushed at his concern, aware of the stutter in his pats. Both CIA agents were red, and boy, were Farah and Alia having a field day.

Alexis prayed her face was the usual controlled indifference. This wasn't the first time someone mislabelled their friendship, so why was this suddenly a big deal? "Yup. They hate it."

Kyle's lips formed an 'o' upon realisation, "Sorry, I thought you two were..."

Alex cleared his throat, "That's a popular opinion."

"Maybe everybody has a point. You did call her baby–" Alia cheekily added.

You little...

Alexis gently slapped a hurried palm against her mouth, muffling the jocular giggles from the young woman. It didn't stop her from cheekily winking at the group. Other than the two in cynosure, the others wore matching grins.

Perhaps they were playing matchmakers, but right now, her priority was to dig herself a hole.

From the unreadable look on Alex's face, he felt the same. When Alia tried to wrestle out of her grips, she thought the reddish hue on his face was a figment of her imagination. Yet if it wasn't, he sure didn't spare her the glory with this knowledge, as his head swiftly lowered to observe the hardwood floor panels.

Witnessing him this taciturn was a rare sight. Before she could entertain her illusions that maybe her friends were onto something, Price yelled for Kyle.

The tension in the air snapped.

"Get some rest. We need energy to catch the Wolf tomorrow," Farah gave a friendly side hug, saving Alex from Alia's nagging reminders about her stitches. He replied with a salute.

And then there were two.

"She's awfully like you," Alex smiled. Spitfire personality, dauntless and stubborn.

"Hopefully not, I'm a horrible person," she joked wearily, eyes losing in a battle against the slurry languor that washed over her. Coupled with the splitting headache, she wrangled between climbing upstairs to find a bed or staying here. The latter almost won until she was hoisted up.

"Don't bother, you're not walking," came Alex's reply and she obliged. When she reopened her eyes, Alex had already sat her down a bed to unlace her boots. She carelessly slithered her sweaty top off her skin.

They squeezed into a tightly-confined shower, sighing in bliss as warm cascades of water enveloped them, splashing the warfare away. Her arms looped contentedly around Alex's neck as he started to wash her blood-crusted hair, careful to shield her head wound.

"Hi," Alex wore a suspicious smile.

She sighed, "Here we go."

"Damn right. You have an immaculate talent for making people worried."

"Why thank you..."

Goosebumps raised as he silkened down her arms, tracing the red streaks clearly shaped from her nails. The way his dark eyes fastened on her made her heartstrings twitch nervously, "You could have died."

She laughed humourlessly. "You think too little of me."

"I'm serious, never do that again. You run into anything you can't handle..."

"I had him under control," she retorted.

"Clearly not enough."

"The bastard got to me. My fault, okay? I messed up. I don't need another reminder," she snapped, and the hands in her hair stopped. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Sure you did," he nodded, not in the slightest offended. The fact that someone managed to one-up her caught his attention instead, "What did he say?"

Now Alexis suspected he could read minds. "Why did you think he said something?"

"Call it a hunch."

Alexis sighed, not fond to revisit her failure. "Alex..."

That was her warning, and he took it. "Just saying, I've never seen Price that worried."

She closed her eyes and shook her head dismissively, "He's just annoyed he'll have to answer to Maddox and Forbes. I'm a prized possession."

The cubicle echoed with their laughs.

Alex worked past the scars that littered her body, leaving trails of soap bubbles. He could pinpoint them with his eyes closed, yet with today's new additions, he had more to commit to memory. His thumb brushed over a spot on her upper right thigh, smirking at the slight shudder he induced but more so at the memory.

Was she nervous?

Hearing Alexis' hoarse voice confirmed his suspicions, "Remember this?"

"'course, you took a bullet for me," Alex said, still glazing over the raised bump.

August 2016, Brazil. 30 grand bounty over their heads. They played a dangerous game of cat and mouse with the entire city. A mercenary almost tore through his kneecaps until she knocked him out of the line of fire.

A charming smirk reappeared, "Few things say "I love you" like a bullet to a non-essential area."

She snorted, punching his chest. Cloudy mist floated around them, the water was too hot, almost scorching. Or maybe it was his warmth, she guessed. Her mind was foggy, only thinking how much endurance she had to not bask in the feeling of his coarse hands.

Then again, she was a soldier. Willpower was all she got.

Maybe not, her hormones decided. As hard as she tried to toss the raunchy thoughts, Alex made it difficult. Especially his arms... she was a real sucker for strong arms. The temperature was sweltering and with their bare bodies practically pressed together was not aiding.

"Switch," was all she said before she forcefully flipped them, leaving her under the running water—hoping it would clear her mind. Hasty fingers weaved in his wet hair, her turn to bathe him.

"Nasty scar," she picked up their conversation, "Scares people away."

"Maybe you should revaluate your definitions of a partner," Alex scoffed, "Scars are god damn sexy."

"In theory, I must be sexy as hell."

Hm. You have no idea.

The bullet scrap on her arm healed nicely by now—still an open wound, though it no longer hurt when she raised her arms. Useful to know, as she foamed his hair. Her gaze traced the numerous tattoos across Alex's body, eventually landing on his chest.

Her favourite tattoo of his—a butterfly.

Butterflies are the universe's proof that second chances exist, this stuck with her ever since she read that somewhere in a digest.

A similar tattoo rested along the sides of her ribcage, accompanied by an eye on top of it. The idea struck her when she finally made Lieutenant. It felt symbolic, a parting gift to her old life.

She always had a sneaking suspicion Alex wanted a matching tattoo but was too afraid or embarrassed to say it. He'd chat her ears off about parallel tattoos, as if she didn't pick up on it. So it was no surprise when one day, he suddenly showed up with a butterfly stuck on his chest.

It was a sweet gesture and thus made her way more resolute to not jeopardise their friendship. Tattoos were sacred to a man like Alex, who never stood a chance against Command. He'd make sure to find something he loved in every location he went, and inked it. His way of establishing control over his job—by remembering parts of the good.

Her finger skimmed past his butterfly before grabbing the showerhead to drown his hair clean. They were two people engrossed in good memories among warfare. And it felt liberating.

That was until she noticed he was looking at the prominent area on her chest.

Burnt flesh, the size of his palms, staring back at them.

The entire atmosphere shifted. A shiver of glacial magnitude rushed from her toes and her heart sank. The scar's jaggedness made her feel even more self-conscious.

Hot poker on her skin, an iron branding from the mob. If she closed her eyes, she could envision the exact scene. Fear not, if the mental baggage wasn't enough, there was a physical one.

"You deserve the best, you know that?" She didn't know which irked her more, the sympathy in his tone, or that he placed her on a pedestal.

I'm damaged goods, the thought fed her demons. So why do I deserve the best?

She peered at the man in front of her, every word earnest. He'd say it a million times and yet she wouldn't believe him.

Perhaps it was the head injury or hormones, but her eyes soon welled up with tears. Within seconds, what started out as small sniffs transformed into full streaks of tears. The tears blended into the stream of falling water but it was unmistakable.

The sight broke Alex's heart. Shattered it, really.

Silently, Alex switched off the faucet and dressed her. Every step jerked new tears that stained his bareback. At her quiet sobs, he berated what an idiot he was for reminding her.

The contact of soft mattress made her flinch. With tear-stained eyes, she gaped at the man who Omar Sulaman promised to kill and it almost made her whimper pathetically.

The malice thoughts stopped whispering when warm touch on her face descended her back to reality.

Alex.

"Yeah?" She hadn't realised she said it out loud.

"Stay with me," she implored. His head was already nodding, but it didn't satisfy her.

A hand shot out anxiously, "No, not this. You can't ever die on me." Her sudden request puzzled him. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said. "What happened, Alexan– Alexis?" Her birth name sat heavily on the tip of his tongue, almost escaping in his concern.

Over time, she'd built a reasonable resilience from Alex's relentless questionings, yet today her defenses lowered. "Back there... He said he'd kill you, he'll make me watch," she swallowed the rising bile. "And I let him go... Fuck."

Alexis felt like an utter failure. Not only did she fail to extract information about the stolen gas, but more people would suffer as a result of the Wolf's escape.

Losing the usual silver lining from her interrogations made her dangerously close to spiral out of control. In her mind, she unjustly tortured a man. And it was vile—even if that man was Omar Sulaman. Now, she found the line between her and her torturers blurred.

Though she didn't specify, Alex placed two and two together. "The Wolf?"

She merely nodded, still gripping his arm painfully like he'd slip away. The desperation her pleads carried haunted him.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," He saw red, only able to suppress his anger by making this promise. Without hesitation, he levelled their faces together, mumbling reassurance of I'm not going anywhere.

In the moonlight, Alex could still see the faint tint of pink that stained her nose—he compared it to the pink chrysanthemums he saw earlier today. How could anyone still look this enchanting while sobbing was a mystery to him, though he was staring right at the answer.

She never ceased to amaze him.

"I'm with you, okay? Always." This sentence never lost its genuineness. He'd do anything for her—the world begins and ends where she says so.

She felt his lips move against her ear, and her racing heart slowly composed itself from his assurance. Losing composure was uncommon for her, but even in this exception, she was sagacious enough to know the air between them had long changed.

Refusing to play host to her desire, her head stay lowered. She opted to wipe her tears and joked about how she didn't want his ghost to haunt her, hoping a distraction would alleviate her pounding heart.

Despite her prayers, Alex tilted her chin upwards to meet him, "Never happening."

They were so close. "Even when you're a ghost?"

"Mhm. I'm pretty hard to shake."

"You'd definitely be one of those annoying ghosts... With no sense of boundaries."

The magnetic allure of her lips called to him. On its own accord, his thumb ghosted ever so slightly over her parted lips, stealing a sharp breath from them both. They were dead silent.

And something in Alex warned him to reduce his voice to a whisper, afraid that he might scare this moment away, "Boundaries... You want it...?"

Everything was electrified. His touch, his gaze. Alexis worked hard not to crumble under his intense stare.

Then it happened, his gaze fell on her lips. She definitely didn't imagine that.

"Do you?" she deflected. Mildly embarrassed that her voice had the abraded texture of stone against stone.

Even when her lungs screamed for air, Alexis still forgot to breathe. She was busy listening to the angel and the devil warring inside her, pleading to her rationality. It was clear which side won when she closed her eyes.

Her world was pitch black. Senses put into overdrive. The touch along her jawline felt like it burned. She thought if this was what being set on fire felt like, she'd gladly pay the price.

His breath fanned across her nose. And then their noses touched.

Alexis felt horrible for her overworking heart, rapidly pumping oxygen to her brain—she certainly dared not to breathe, terrified to screw this up. Maybe there was a screeching voice inside her head, but it was fogged by her desires.

Tingles rushed through her when his lips brushed her own, the velvety feeling of it already so addictive. Alexis closed her eyes, waiting for the impact, and then–

A sharp knock forced them both apart.

She almost got whiplash from how fast she turned to the door, making her clutch her head in pain. The silhouette of Kyle Garrick stood in front of them, head still bowed while reading a prescription off a medicine tube.

"Nero- no, Neosporin," he cluelessly recited. "Antibiotic cream." When Kyle finally raised his head, a look of doubt crossed his face upon the flustered duo.

He awkwardly tossed the tube to Alex. "Okay... Weird vibe. Alia said to apply it or else."

"Thanks, Garrick," Alexis grimaced at her slightly pitchy voice, "Um. Get some rest, yeah?"

"Mhm. As you were..."

The door closed after him. Tensed at the shuffling sounds behind her, her brain replayed the scene much to her protest.

"Still want me to stay?" Alex said in a low voice. She hadn't realised she was still staring at the empty doorway.

What was that? She never loathed her noisy thoughts more than this moment. Oh fucking fuck, shit. I'm so stupid.

No... Why am I embarrassed? He initiated the stupid kiss! She reasoned, digging for some form of consolation to find the courage to snap around, preparing herself for what might come next. But she wasn't expecting the smug smile he so proudly wore. She then wondered if she should feel relieved or nervous.

But as a wave of dizziness forced her to grab a handful of bedsheets, she inwardly spoke gratitude that she didn't have to decide.

What was this? What were they, really? Too many questions and too little answers.

"Come on, it's past your bedtime," Alex pulled her back into the bed and started to administer the medication on her cheek wounds. Today was already a heck of a day, and with the soothing circles rubbed into her skin, she surrendered to her tiredness.

"Night..."

Upon her steady breathing, Alex tossed the tube across the room and it landed accurately on his vest with a soft thud. His finger outlined a path from her forehead and hovered hesitantly above her lips. The very same one he should have already felt.

Thanks, Garrick.

A frustrated sigh escaped him, loud enough to make Alexis nuzzle deeper into him, an arm draped over his waist.

He laid back down, replaying their scenes from earlier. A bolt of lightning might as well strike him now—maybe that would explain the bursting feeling in his chest.

"Wow," he mouthed in realisation. "I'm a damn idiot."

Years ago when she tipsily ended up on his doorstep desperate for him to take the pain away, he willingly obliged. No denials that he had the biggest selfish reason to say yes.

Fuck, it was a strange feeling to finally get all that he dreamt of. That night, he was too busy planning a confession in his head to sleep. But by dawn, the demons inside him questioned if he truly deserved someone like Alexis.

Someone like her? For him? It was too good to be true. His mind raced with the "What ifs?"

"What if our jobs clashed?"

"What if I put her in danger?"

"What fucking if the long distance fucks everything up?"

Their friendship would be in shreds. And she was one of the– the most important person in his life. No way would he lose her.

So he pushed her away—looked her in the eyes and lied. For Heaven's sakes, he wanted to punch himself. And he knew he made the right decision because when their friendship took a hit for a few weeks, the loneliness was unparalleled.

He didn't want to feel that way again. Ever.

Alex might have kept their friendship, but at the cost of everything. He liked to picture how different things would have been, if not for his cowardice. He thought about it frequent enough to imprint a permanent gnaw in his heart.

Now, here it was. A bloody second chance. His second chance.

Alex peered down to the butterfly tattoo on his bare chest, smiling. The universe's proof, alright, he whispered, "Gotcha."

The night ended with Alex falling into dreams of the woman he loved.

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n:        they're such stupid fools... & omg i hate this chapter so much idek. btw what do yall think alexis’ real name is?

taglist: @flyboidameron​​ @wanderlustgiant​​ (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

[darthspideys]

Normal People (t.h)

doctor! tom  x doctor! reader 

words: 1688 

Summary: You want to be normal, and he wants you to love you as much as he does 

A/N: This is my first fic for @fuckyou-imspiderman  ‘s writing challenge! I did not think this one would get this long but here it is! Now the middle portion of this is a total copy of greys anatomy, so don’t think I thought of it cause I wish. 

MASTERLIST “So what do you do for a living?”

You froze in your seat across from, what was his name? Alex. He’d asked the question, the one that you knew would most likely end the entire date. There is a reason why I didn’t put it on my profile because your going to think its weird, You thought, picking at your food again, trying to think of a way to change the subject. You couldn't think of anything so instead, you took a breath and sighed. “I am a surgeon.”

“Oh, very cool.” He eyed her, clearly curious. “I’ll admit here, the only experience I have with that is ER so, excuse me if I get anything wrong. What specialty?”

“Trauma.” You took a bite of your food, slowly, surprised at how well he was taking it so far. “So people falling off roofs, construction accidents, train derailments, building collapses and all that good stuff.”

You didn’t realize it at the time but that was your mistake, getting too comfortable. You weren’t as focused on gauging his reaction to that comment, you only focused on what he said next. “Sounds, interesting.”

“Oh yeah it really is. I love it, I mean honestly most doctors don’t like it, the rush, the smell, y’know? But I live for it, I love the chaos, bodies coming in and you’ve just gotta stop the bleeding. You’ve gotta do whatever it takes, whatever you have to put in there. Then sometimes there bleeding internally and you’ve just gotta get it out, you’ve gotta stick a million tubes in there. And then when the heart stops and all you hear is the sound of that monitor and you’ve gotta jump for it, you’ve gotta jump and just push as hard as you can.” To be fair, even if you had been paying attention to his facial expressions, you most likely wouldn’t have been able to predict what was coming next.

As soon as you finished talking, Alex took a breath and stood up at the table, throwing his napkin onto the ground. “Your sick, you know that?” He said, loud enough that everyone near you could hear.

All you could think was, Crap, crap, crap, crap.

He wasn’t finished. “Those are real people, you have lives in your hands and you enjoy watching people bleed out? You like to see people hurt and injured? You enjoy that. I mean I guess you do because you only get paid if people keep getting hurt and terrible things keep happening. You wanna know something? My grandmother died in a car accident and the doctors couldn’t get her heart started again and I’m sure you would've loved that.”

“I didn’t mean-” You stuttered out, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. “I-” You got up quickly and ran out of the restaurant as fast as you could. By the time you got to you your car, you were out of breath and in a mood.  

“He said what?” Tom asked in disbelief as the two of you walked through the halls of the hospital. “I cannot believe-”

“I know, most guys like politely excuse themselves to go to the bathroom and then never come back. I guess I struck a chord with him.” You let out a sigh, “Good news is I think that was enough public humiliation for a lifetime, let's hope I’ve peaked here.”

Tom smiled at that and ran a hand over your back, as the two of you continued to walk. “If I wasn’t on call, I’d say let's go get a drink.”

“I need a drink right now.”

“Well your not on call, you could just go get one. In fact, why are you here right now? Why did you come here instead of getting drunk?”

“Cause I am on call tomorrow and I would prefer not to have a hangover. I mean getting blackout drunk solves your problems until it doesn’t. Plus who needs to get drunk when you do a ten-hour surgery?” You looked down at your pager again and hit it with your hand. “If one would just come in!”

Tom laughed at you, when suddenly both of your pagers went off simultaneously, which sent both of you running down the hall, to get to the ER. “Looks like you got your wish.”

“Thank you trauma gods!” You replied, doing a little jump as you ran. “And Alex can suck it!”

“I think you're going a little overboard but I’m going to chalk that up to a trauma high.”

“Yup.”

By the time the two of you made it to the ER it was already in chaos with people coming in, and patients already being moved into elevators to go into OR’s. Soon enough you and Tom were assigned to the same patient, a man with a tear in his heart that needed to go upstairs to on OR right away. A minute later he two of you were running into an elevator and impenitently tapping the buttons trying to will the machine to go faster. The two of you just looked at each other as the elevator finally climbed to the OR floor, and then stopped. The doors didn't open, and then the lights went out.

The two of you looked at each other again, and said, “Crap.”

Tom tried to the pull the doors open as you pressed the call button multiple times to no avail. “We are so screwed.”

The two of you paced the elevator waiting for it to start moving again, until a harsh beeping broke the air, the man was going into cardiac arrest. “Well we have to do something now or he’s not gonna make it.” Tom said.

“You want to crack his chest? In the elevator?” You sputtered, “WIth unsterile equipment, no blood and not knowing when this thing is going to start moving again?”

“What choice do we have?” He replied, his eyebrows creased with worry.

“Yeah, fair point. Well, what do we have to cut him open with?”

“This scapel, from my pocket.” Tom handed it to you, and you nodded your hands shaking a little.

“Well at least you have one as weird as that is, I thought I was going to have to cut him open with this clipboard or something.” You tried to smile but you were too nervous. You took a deep breath and cut into the man's chest, moving his ribs out of the way, trying not to break them until you finally had your hand on his heart and you feel the hole in it. You shoved your finger inside and at last the beeping stopped, and the elevator started moving.  

“Did you get it?”

“The noise stopped so-yes?”

“You did a good job. He’s gonna make it.”

“Uh-huh.” The adrenaline faded and you could feel your body shaking, Tom could see it too.

He walked over and steaded you, pulling his body against yours, which made the shaking stop. “Your okay, he’s gonna make it. Calm down.”

“Yeah, okay.” You breathed out, trying to keep your teeth unclenched. A second later, the elevator doors opened and standing in front of you was the chief and the cardio attending, assigned to the case, Dr. Marling.

“What did you do?” Dr. Marling asked.

“Saved his life,” Tom said plainly. “Or not if we don't move him in the next two seconds.”

All Dr. Marling did was nod before a swarm of nurses helped pull the gurney into the operating room, with you on top, your finger still in the tear in the heart. After what felt like hours, you were finally outside the OR, your body pressed against the wall, breathing heavily.

Suddenly, tom appeared. “Come on.” He said, extending a hand. You let him pull you up and lead you outside to his car.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as he got up onto the roof of his car and laid down. After a few seconds, he called, “Are you gonna join me or what?”

Still confused you climbed up and laid down next to him. “What is this?”

“We are going to decompress. Calm down. Especially you, it has been a long night.”

“It has been a long night.” You repeated. The two of you sat there silently, Tom hand behind your head until at last you let out a long sigh and grumbled out, 

“Can't we just pretend we’re normal for once?” You paused, “Let's just pretend taht we’re not sitting on top of your car because my date yelled at my before enjoying his grandmother's death, and the fact that on this very same night I had to cut into a man's heart in an elevator.”

Tom turned to you and said, “Okay. So we’re normal people, who don’t cut into bodies. We’re normal people, huh. Yeah, I have no idea what that’s like.” He laughed a little.

“Normal people would probably be able to get through a date successfully.” You huffed.

“Or maybe not. Maybe a normal guy works with this girl, and he sees her every day, and after a while he realizes when he doesn't see her his world loses a little bit of its happiness. And for a while, he ignores it, because  its nothing and then he realizes he loves her.” Tom paused, searching your face for a reaction, “But he doesn't say anything, because she is so out of his league. He doesn’t tell her, he can’t.” He looked you right in the eyes, and you sat up a little to meet him, realization crossing your face. “Until one day after she does something amazing, and his heart lights up, he realizes he has too, cause whats the point of keeping it a secret?”

“But what this normal guy doesn’t realize is that girl loves him too. It just took her a little while to figure it out. So she leans in and kisses him.” You pulled tops lips into yours and for a long inescapable moment, it was just the two of you in the world.

“Is that normal enough for you?”

permanent taglist:  @downeeyjunior // @peters-vlogs // @tomsfireheart  // @spideydaddyboy // @built4broadway // @pensysto  // @mitamixer

[cuteeiji]

ostinato || part two

summary: the road keeps bending back upon itself, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. time loop au [start here] [part three] warnings: canon major character death, self harm, numerous errors in hospital procedure word count: 4758

ii.

“On earth, the terrible things and the beautiful things continue to happen beside each other.”

–Jeffrey Morgan, “All Night No Sleep Now This”

The first thing he sees is how the sun sets fire to the stray strands of hair that fall over her face, dust motes floating in the soft rays beaming through her window. The image seems to freeze in his vision, superimposed upon yesterday (today) and the day before that (today.) They align like the stars in syzygy, each a perfect mirror of the other.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Natalie says, glancing up from her chemistry book. “You were out longer than I wa–” Her eyes widen as they meet his, mouth dropping open in shock. “Whoa, what’s up with your horns?”

“What do you mean?” He feels himself saying, gaze trailing on the steady rise and fall of her chest, the movement of her lips as she breathes.

She’s awake. She’s alive.

She shoves her textbook to the side and heaves herself off the bed.

“They’re all…glowy and purple,” she says softly, poking one. He flinches away from her, and she retracts her hand in alarm. Natalie has never been frugal with physical contact, and over the months he had become used to her flopping onto him like he was a piece of furniture, playing with his hair, prodding at his horns until they shifted from amber to deep crimson. He doesn’t know why he moved away from her touch. Clearly, she doesn’t either; her face screws up into one of deep concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Perfect,” he says, standing up abruptly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting a little weird,” she says, slowly rising with him, eyes still trained on his horns. “Are you nervous about going to the coast?” She glances at the clock on her dresser. “Speaking of, when are we leaving?”

“I’m fine,” Lucifer says, running a hand through his hair. She looks at him expectantly, but he doesn’t let any explanation fall from his lips.

“And… I’ve been thinking…” He says hesitantly, rubbing the back of his head. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to go back. You should get your dad to take you to a hospital or something. I can do this alone.”

“What?!” Natalie says indignantly, “Why?”

“You’ve been living off of DayQuil and orange juice for over a week now, and even that’s iffy since you’ve been puking all over the place. It’s about time you get some professional help,” he says, eyes grazing over her chapped lips and the unhealthy pallor of her skin. Her face scrunches up in disapproval.

“Are you crazy?” She demands. “That’ll make my third hospital visit in the span of a year–my dad’ll flip.”

“So you’re just gonna let yourself get worse so you don’t worry your old man?” Lucifer asks sharply, feeling anger boil in his stomach. He welcomes it, lets it wash over him like scalding water, and it’s so much easier to bear than the sadness. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Why do you care so much? It’s not like I’m dying or anything!” Natalie says, folding her arms.

The words twist like a knife in his heart, and he forces himself to keep the scowl on his lips.

“You don’t know that, kid, that’s why you go to a doctor.”

They glare at each other for a few moments that seem to stretch into space. Natalie finally yields, slowly uncrossing her arms to have her palms rest surely on her hips.

“Okay, fine. You win,” she says. “But my dad’s not going with me.”

“I don’t see how that’ll work, kid,” Lucifer says. “He’s your emergency contact guy and you’re living with him. He’s gonna find out no matter what.”

Natalie’s face breaks into a sly smile. “Unless…he’s already with me when I go.”

“What are you talking about? You just said you didn’t want to–” He cuts off as her smile grows wider.

“Wait–you mean–”

“Yup,” she says, eyes glinting. “That.”

The thin wire of Alex McAllister’s glasses feel odd on the bridge of his nose. He pushes them up slightly, takes them off, rubs them on his shirt, and puts them on again.

“Stop fidgeting,” Natalie whispers as they walk. “You look fine. Very dad-like. Middle aged and dorky.”

He turns to send a heated glare at her. She tilts her head in fascination. “Whoa, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on my dad’s face before. Usually he just cries when he’s mad at me.”

“Hopefully you never have to see it again,” Lucifer mutters with disgust, shaking his head. The sliding door of the emergency room opens, and he wrinkles his nose at the clinical smell. Fortunately, it’s not as crowded as the hospital by the coast was, with only a few stragglers sitting on the ugly green chairs.

He walks up to the front desk, Natalie trailing slightly behind him.

“My, uh…daughter needs an evaluation,” Lucifer says to the cheerful-looking woman behind the desk, barely suppressing a cringe at his own words.

“Hi,” Natalie says awkwardly, pausing to cough into her sleeve. The receptionist smiles sympathetically at her.

“Hello, dear. What’s your name?”

“Natalie McAllister.”

“Okay, Natalie, I’m going to need you to fill out this medical history form…”

He zones out as Natalie begins to scribble on the piece of paper she was given, letting the off-white walls and burning smell of chemicals fade away.

What’s happening here?

The past two days feel like vivid nightmares, fragments of memory that he clutches onto with unrivaled panic. He remembers her warm words and her hair like fire, and the way she burned out as the day ended, the way her life was snuffed as easily as one might blow out a candle.

He glances at her, sick but still lively, flashing smiles to the receptionist as she chatters. It seems absurd to think that in the span of twenty four hours she would deteriorate so much…

He has to find out what’s going on.

“Mr. McAllister?”

He jerks, looking at the woman with wide eyes. “Huh?”

“Your insurance information.”

“Oh. Yeah. I have it,” He says, fishing around in his pockets for the card they snatched out of Alex’s wallet. He finds it and hands it to her.

She examines it, comparing the information to her computer monitor. “Alright, everything seems to be in check. We’ll have a triage nurse out momentarily to do some basic check-ups.”

He nods mutely, and they wander in the general direction of the waiting area.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Natalie asks softly as they sit down.

“Kid, you’ve asked me that five times today. I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” she says stubbornly.

“I’ll be fine once you stop asking me pointless questions,” he retorts.

She huffs, and slings her blue flu mask over her ears. “I feel ridiculous wearing this.”

He sees her, collapsed on smooth tile and barely breathing, hand barely touching the blue fabric abandoned on the ground.

His heart skips like a rock over water, stuttering beats sinking low in his stomach.

“You look ridiculous wearing that,” he says, mouth dry. “At least you’re not spreading your germs everywhere, though.”

She shrugs, and they sit in silence for a while.

Eventually, a nurse emerges from the doors. “Natalie McAllister?”

Natalie stands up, and so does he.

The nurse smiles at them. “Come with me.”

They follow her into a small room, machinery lined up like jigsaw pieces on the walls and counter. Natalie sits down on the leather chair in the center of the room. The nurse looks down at the form. “So I see you’ve been here twice already this past year, for…” she scrutinizes her chart, “first a concussion and superficial lacerations, and then severe penetrating abdominal trauma. Jeez, not a very lucky year for you, is it, Ms. McAllister?”

Natalie shrugs nonchalantly. “I dunno,” she says slowly, catching Lucifer’s eye. “…It’s had it’s moments.” She smiles slightly, gaze flicking back to the nurse.

He feels his face turning red, but it’s soon forgotten when Natalie breaks into a round of hacking, wheezing into the fabric of her flu mask.

“Oh my, that doesn’t sound good,” the nurse says, taking out a thermometer. “I’m just going to take your temperature; open wide.”

Natalie complies, and the nurse delicately places the metal spoke under her tongue. After a moment, she takes it out.

“101.3,” she reads with a frown. “How long have you been sick?”

“Like…maybe two weeks?” Natalie supplies, shifting uncomfortably.

“Okay,” she says, lifting up a stethoscope. “I’m going to listen to your breathing now, could you take off your sweatshirt and your mask?”

She places the chestpiece on Natalie’s back.

“I want you to inhale as deeply as you can.”

She listens intently as Natalie breathes, and even Lucifer can tell that what she’s hearing isn’t good. Her face screws up a little with concern.

“Well, Natalie, I’ll need to get you a medical screening with a doctor so they can confirm it, but I think you may have developed pneumonia alongside your flu,” The nurse says, standing up. “We’ll probably take an x ray and maybe some blood tests as well.”

He can’t help but shoot Natalie an I-told-you-so glance behind the nurse’s back, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Come with me,” the nurse says. “You can come too, Mr. McAllister.”

The x rays stretch on forever, and once they’re done they insist on taking some blood tests as well. Natalie sits through it, wincing as they prick at her skin. He finds himself tapping his fingers on his arms in restless beats, a stuttering rhythm that matches the anxious pulse of his heart.

He thinks of Pestilence, sitting eight hours away in a casino, playing her cards like a skilled musician would their instrument. He grits his teeth.

Is she the one doing this?

After the medical staff poked and prodded at her sufficiently, they put them in a room to wait. There’s a small cot surrounded by machines, a rickety grey stool propped in the corner. Natalie clambers onto the bed, collapsing in a heap on the stiff padding.

“Tired?” He asks her, claiming his spot on the stool.

“Exhausted,” She says, rubbing at her eyes and yawning.

“That’s understandable,” says the attending physician as he enters the room, examining a clipboard that presumably contained her file on it. “I don’t know why you didn’t come to see us earlier. I’m Dr. Jones, by the way.”

“What’s going on?” Natalie asks from her bed, voice garbled by the phlegm in her throat. She clears it roughly, hands instinctively coming up to rub her throat.

“We’re still waiting on test results, but its becoming more and more apparent that you have an infection in both of your lungs,” He says. “Normally we would say that it can be treated at home, but due to the long duration of your illness and the fact that you’ve also shown many symptoms of influenza, we’re keeping you here on an IV drip.”

Natalie doesn’t say anything, so he steps in.

“Okay, sounds good…I need to get to work,” Lucifer says, “Natalie’s friend… Stan will be coming over for a while.”

Jones nods, gathering his supplies. “Alright, then. Visiting hours end at 8:00. I’m going to push on your arm, Natalie, just stay still and relax.”

Lucifer watches as the doctor disinfects her arm and inserts a catheter. Natalie winces a little at the sting, but her expression clears as the doctor attaches a thin tube and tapes it to her arm. “There we go, you did great.”

Natalie smiles earnestly at him. “Thanks.”

“Okay,” Jones says, dropping the used needle into a container. “I’ll be back shortly with your test results. Feel free to call for a nurse if you need anything.”

As soon as he leaves the room Lucifer shifts back into his normal form, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

“Jesus, that was getting uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, a little,” Natalie says, raising an eyebrow. “You have no clue how to be a dad, dude.”

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, then,” he says, taking off Alex’s glasses and shoving them in his pocket. He lets his hands fall to his sides.

Natalie squints at him. “Are you absolutely sure–”

“Kid, if you ask me if i’m okay one more time I will not hesitate to kick your ass,” he snaps, clenching his fists. “I’m fine; I’m the last thing you should be concerned about right now.”

Her face lights up, ignoring the empty threat he threw at her. “Wait. Are you worried about me?”

“Well obviously,” he says irritably, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I don’t understand why, though,” She says, her grin melting away. “It’s not like being sick is that bad–” She pauses, eyes widening, trying to suppress something locked in her ribcage. She finally gives in, and an involuntary hoard of coughs wrack up her body. She hunches over, chest heaving, hands coming up to claw at her flu mask.

“Okay,” she gasps, ripping it off, “Maybe I should’ve come here a little earlier.”

“No kidding,” he says, clasping his hands together.

She glances at him, eyes watering and snot streaming down her face. She grabs a handful of tissues from the nightstand.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me, Lucifer,” she says, wiping away the evidence of her sickness. Her voice is quieter than usual.

“It’s no problem,” he says, averting his gaze.

“No, really, thank you. For everything.” She hesitates. “…You know I love you, right?”

He freezes at the words, the familiar ring of them chiming through his head, taking him back to a bus station where everything seemed so much more simple, the sunlight streaming through the window panes and her small smile a reverberation of the one she gives him now, sitting in a hospital room.

“…Yeah,” he mumbles, remembering the salty taste of the ocean and the burning fire in her voice when she traded her soul for his freedom. “Yeah, I know.”

He can tell she’s getting worse.

She tries to stifle the painful spasms that come with the coughs, her voice becoming more gravelly as the hour passes. Eventually their conversation trails off into silence, only broken by the rattling sound of Natalie’s breathing.The fluorescent lighting makes it hard to tell if she’s actually getting paler or if it’s just the light leeching the color out of her face. He stands up, peering at the perspiration accumulating on her temple.

“Natalie, are you okay?”

“So I’m not allowed to ask that but you are? Talk about double-standards,” She jokes weakly, curling in on herself.

“I’m not the one who’s sick,” he says, reaching out to touch her forehead. It’s hot against his palm. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”

The doctor from before–Jones–enters the room. “Well, Natalie–” He stops when he sees Lucifer hovering over her bedside. “Who are you?”

“I’m her friend, Stan,” he says curtly. “I think her fever’s getting worse.”

He frowns. “The IV should be helping with that.”

“Well, it’s not working!” Lucifer says, voice rising. “She’s not getting better!”

Natalie pushes on his arm a little, frowning at him. “Stop being a butthead, Stan; I’m fine.”

Jones looks at her, hand reaching to open a drawer and pulling out a thermometer. He holds it out to her. “He might be right; I’m going to check again.”

He waits for a few moments, and looks at the temperature. “103.2,” he says. “We’ll have you take some tylenol and hopefully it’ll break.”

Natalie deflates, sinking back against the bed. “Okay.”

The doctor pauses, and Lucifer holds his breath. He’s seen enough of humanity to know when they have something grim to say, locked behind their teeth like a morbid treasure.

“Also…” He says reluctantly, true to form, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your tests came back. You definitely have pneumonia in both of your lungs, as well as hypoxemia.”

“What’s that?” Natalie asks, looking up at him with confusion. Jones smiles at her, and Lucifer bristles at the subtle look of pity in the curl of his lips, the bend of his forehead.

“You don’t have enough oxygen in your bloodstream,” he says. “We’re going to need to put a mask on you so your levels don’t drop any lower.”

“…Oh,” she says timidly, clenching the thin sheets she’s resting on. Lucifer sees the slight glimmer of fear in her eyes. “Okay, then.”

A nurse comes in after the doctor leaves, sending Natalie a reassuring smile as she replaces the blue mask over her lips with a clear plastic one, attached to more tubes. “You’re doing great, honey,” she says soothingly. She looks at Lucifer. “Just so you know, visiting time ends in an hour.”

He gives her a short nod, and she leaves.

“This sucks,” Natalie says, voice smothered by her mask.

“I can imagine.”

“I’m so tired…”

“It’s been a long day,” Lucifer agrees. “Get some rest.”

She peers at him, examining his features. She doesn’t say it, but he can tell the question on her lips anyways.

Are you sure you’re okay?

He bites his cheek and leaves her silent query unanswered.

She eventually migrates her gaze to the ceiling and closes her eyes uneasily, her ragged breathing evening out into something less tangible.

He relaxes slightly in his stool, absently looking out the door into the hall. It’s stiflingly quiet, save for Natalie’s breathing, deadened with sleep and the oxygen mask obscuring her face. His eyes flicker to her face, her eyelids fluttering slightly, mouth slightly open.

Images jolt into him like a lightning strike, burning into his retinas.

Kid, get up.

She doesn’t answer, still and unmoving on the hospital floor.

He tries to shake the memories away like stray water droplets, but they seep into him and find a home there, venom leaking into his veins.

Natalie.

His fingers dig into his jeans. What the hell is happening?

The past three days have been reflections of each other, curving and twisting back to the time where he opened his eyes at 8:24 to Natalie’s sunlit room. He glances at the clock on the wall. 7:37 PM.

Natalie coughs in her sleep, and he jerks to look at her, automatically rising to his feet. It’s not a coincidence that the minutes and hours bent back on on the day she’s supposed to…

I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.

(Her breathing is uneven, and it sounds more like drowning than swallowing air.)

She’s not going to wake up.

(She shifts, and he can see the beads of sweat on her fevered cheeks, the red blotchy against her greying skin.)

The realization hits him like a bullet. It’s all centered on her.

She’s going to die, and the day will echo itself again, and she’ll keep dying until he finds a way to save her and he needs to save her.

He looks around, the world seeming to turn on its axis.

Why do you care so much? It’s not like I’m dying or anything!

He sees the crimson call button by her cot and he slams down on it, pressing until he feels the plastic start to crack under his fingers. His hands are trembling, and paranoia is crawling in his rib cage, tugging on bone and flesh, spreading through his chest like infection.

Natalie opens her eyes blearily at the sound. “What’s going…”

“You’re getting worse,” he says, starting to pace, words tumbling out of his mouth like falling stars. “Why are you getting worse? Aren’t they supposed to be helping? It didn’t happen so fast the last time.” He pauses. “Or maybe I was too stupid to see how bad you were in the first place.”

“What didn’t happen so fast…?” Natalie says, her voice hazy through her mask. “Dude, what are you talking about?”

“I thought that if you got to a hospital sooner it wouldn’t turn out his way,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “But you’re still getting worse. It’s all going to end up the same.”

Natalie pulls herself into a sitting position on her cot. “Hey, you’re freaking out. What’s happening?”

“I don’t even know how to fix this–how do I fix something like this?” he says, leaning his palm on the counter. “I’m so sorry. I’m–”

“Is everything alright?” a nurse says from the doorway.

Natalie turns to her, pulling off her oxygen mask. “My friend– he’s–” she gasps, and her spine curves like the end of a fiddlehead as she coughs up phlegm and a sickening yellow fluid, spattered with red. Her hands are vices around her bed rails as her diaphragm convulses.

The nurse rushes over to her, speaking in a low, soothing voice as she calms Natalie down, bringing her tissues and gently guiding the mask back up to her lips. Lucifer stands in the corner, frozen.

“I’m going to see what else we can do for you, Ms. McAllister,” she promises, and turns to him. “It’s time to go; visiting hours are over.”

“You don’t understand. I need to stay with her,” he says numbly. “I can’t leave her.”

The nurse shakes her head.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but if you’re not a patient, you’re going to have to leave,” she says, voice sympathetic but firm.

Natalie coughs into her oxygen mask, staring at them with half-lidded eyes.

Blood rushes in Lucifer’s ears. “…Okay,” he says simply, his voice surprisingly calm amidst his torrential thoughts. His hand comes up to grip his arm.

The nurse relaxes, visibly relieved. “Alright, I’ll escort you ou–”

Lucifer squeezes, and he barely registers the pain as a sharp, splintering sound cuts through the room. The blood drains from the nurse’s face, and he can hear Natalie’s muffled gasp.

“Okay,” he says again, cooly inspecting his bruising, broken arm. “I’m a patient now. Guess I have to stay.”

He does, but not in the way he’s expecting.

“This is bullshit,” he mutters to himself for what seems like the thousandth time, pulling at his restraints. His cast-clad arm itches, and when he reaches to tear away the plaster the padded cuff on his wrist stops him short. He glances at it in annoyance before ripping it off of the cot they’ve confined him to.

Looking back, he shouldn’t have been surprised when the nurse called security, and after putting a cast on his broken arm, they took him directly to the psych ward for reasons they didn’t bother to explain in detail. Something along the lines of being “a danger to himself and society.”

Ridiculous. He’s been a danger to society for the past few millennia and they’ve never locked him up for it before now.

It’s been hours since he’s seen her, and his heart beats faster with every tick of the fucking clock mounted on the wall of his locked room. It’s enough to drive anybody crazy. The hands taunt him as they circle closer to five in the morning.

He uses his free hand to rip his cast off, the plaster breaking apart as he pulls. He tugs his arm free and fumbles with his leg restraints, clumsily trying to undo them before giving up and tearing them off, too.

He stands, stretching his stiff limbs. He eyes the steel door, curling his hands into fists. He doesn’t necessarily want to do this but it’s not his first time breaking down a building to get to her.

It turns out he doesn’t need to, because in that moment the door swings open and an orderly walks in. “Alright, sir, I’m just here to check up on yo–”

He doesn’t get to finish the rest of his sentence before Lucifer hits him cleanly on the neck, letting him drop to the ground with a loud thud.

“It’s nothing personal,” he mutters as he steps over the man’s unconscious form. “I just don’t appreciate being locked up.”

He strides out the door, letting his features shift, the clothes on his back melting away into plain blue scrubs. He walks down the hallway, past more steel doors and other nurses meandering about, desperately hoping that no one would stop him. There’s an elevator at the end of the hall.

There’s only a down button, and he presses it, biting his cheek. He stumbles inside when the doors slide open.

“Where are you, Natalie?” He murmurs, looking at the floor buttons. There are five of them, with him being on the top level. He pushes the third one.

The time it takes for the elevator to descend feels like millennia, and as soon as the doors open, he rushes out, noting with relief that this looks familiar, barely restraining himself enough to walk to where her room is. There’s a pit in his stomach, a sluggish feeling of unease that grows the closer he walks. It’s 5:00 AM.

(For a moment, everything is quiet.)

As he edges in on her room, a steady beep cuts through the silence, a tone that he’s heard before but never in reality, and other people are running to where she is, shouting and reaching for machines and shock paddles.

“Code!”

Something fractures inside of him, and he’s running too because this can’t be happening again. He pushes into her already full room, and he doesn’t want to look but he can’t stop looking as they press onto her chest and shoot her full of adrenaline and other drugs. She lays limply on the cot, jerking as they pump electricity into her body.

No. No. This can’t be happening again.

They try.

They try.

The clock ticks, ticks, ticks, and he can barely breathe as they crack her ribs to beat her heart for her, sending currents through her body and shaking their heads as they fail, time and time again.

“I’m calling it,” someone says, an hour later. “Does anyone want to try something else?”

There’s just exhausted silence in response. Lucifer can feel his knees starting to shake.

“I don’t know how she deteriorated so quickly,” a nurse says, distress evident in his tone. “She was talking and smiling just a few hours ago.”

“It happens sometimes,” the doctor says softly. He catches Lucifer’s eye, hands braced against the wall to keep himself steady. He walks up to him.

“She your first code?” He says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t say it’ll get easier. It’s always rough when they’re young.”

Lucifer shakes his head, a thump in his throat. “I need to go,” he whispers, backing out the door, away from the doctor, away from the straggling medical staff, away from her body.

He starts to run.

There’s a senselessness in his escape; he blindly stumbles out of the building, the cool night pressing on his skin. He feels himself grow in height, the scrubs disintegrating into air, horns ripping out of his forehead, and he can see the violet light they’re casting on the road.

His feet catch on the concrete but he loses his thoughts in the feeling of his bones pounding onto the road, pushing him further away from reality.

(Distantly, he thinks that he would be consumed by the voices by now, if not for her.)

(Distantly, he thinks that maybe letting Hell take over would’ve been easier than this.)

The ground below him eventually shifts from asphalt to grass, and he lets his knees buckle, collapsing onto the earth, a breath rattling its way out of him.

He looks up. The sun is starting to rise, the sky dyed deep crimson by the slowly emerging light. A bird starts to chirp. 

He vaguely feels his body convulsing, and after a little bit he realizes he’s crying, his ribs expanding almost painfully and air rushing out of his lungs in unsteady, choking sobs. He lets himself crumble, his shoulders shaking with grief.

He stays there for a while.

He doesn’t know when the daylight happens or when his tears stop, because one moment he’s kneeling in the grass and then he sees a dark silhouette cut against the sky and then–

His stomach twists, time bends.

He opens his eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Natalie says, looking up from her chemistry textbook, “You were out longer than I was.”