#cough cough mr doug side | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azuramarigold · 1 year ago

Text

Poisoned Heart

Summary: The trial of State vs. Phoenix Wright on April 11, 2014 - he can't ever forget it, it was one of the worst says of his life.

“Mr. Wright!” Ms. Fey shouted in panic, her hazel eyes wide in horror. “Are you okay!?” “Huh…?” “I need to call you an ambulance!” “…why…?” Phoenix felt his legs wobble, the corners of his vision going dark. He coughed again, gasping for air. He had to rip off his mask as it felt suffocating… but it wasn’t the mask that was suffocating. It was the blood that was splattering into his hand. “Uh… M-M-Mia…?” Phoenix softly called out, his legs buckling. “I-I’m s-s-sor…rry…” “PHOENIX!”

AO3

“MIA FEY! MIA FEEEEY!”

The young, angelic-face of a woman with blood-red hair stood on the witness stand – her hands gripped on the handle of her parasol so tight that she could snap it in half. Her eyes seemed to be almost a spiritual white – full of anger and spite, almost a demonic presence.

“You. Think. You. Have. Won?” the woman practically growled. “WELL!? Do you, Mia Fey!?”

Standing on the Defense side of the courtroom was a young woman with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes, a beauty mark on her chin, and wearing a skirt-suit with a tan scarf wrapped around her neck. Her purple magatama was sitting proudly in the middle of her chest above her breasts. She was considered a very beautiful young woman – but at that moment she looked terrified.

Literally minutes ago, Mia Fey was fighting for her client’s – Phoenix Wright – life as he was accused of murder of a young college student. The woman on the witness stand cursing Ms. Fey’s name was non-other than Phoenix’s girlfriend, Dahlia Hawthorne.

Who was planning on murdering him.

This… this isn’t really happening… is it?

Phoenix thought the worse of it was when he was accused of murdering Doug Swallow. He thought hiring a decent attorney from Grossberg’s Law Offices through the Law Program at Ivy University on a student discount would be fine. He thought everything would be an open and shut case.

That’s what Dollie told me anyway… she used to read some of my law texts…

Dahlia then laughed, a dark, and almost sinister laugh that Phoenix never heard before. “Heh... Heh... Heh... Heheh... That's. Just. Fine! For the time being...” Her voice just sounded so… cold. She then put on her “sweet” façade. “For the time being, victory is yours.” A lovely smile plastered on her face, a smile that Phoenix once would have said he really loved and enjoyed – but this smile… was different.

Stoney. Plastered. Almost… practiced.

It looks the same… but it’s not. I can’t really explain it…

“‘For the time being’”? Ms. Fey repeated, her hands on the desk, her giving Dahlia a hard glare.

Dahlia tilted her head to the side, her red hair gently falling on her shoulder. “Well... I have a very long memory, you know. You and I will meet again... I'm certain of it,” the woman stated.

Ms. Fey gave a perplexed look.

Soon Dahlia Hawthorne was escorted out of the courtroom by officers. She did not give Phoenix Wright another look. She did not say another word to him.

It was like he didn’t exist.

15 minutes earlier…

“OBJECTION!”

Phoenix had jumped from his Defendants chair and marched up towards the witnesses stand, ignoring the glares from his attorney, Mia Fey, and the Judge.

“On behalf of Dollie, I OBJECT!”

The prosecutor of the case, Mr. Winston Payne, began stuttering, “M-M-Mr. Wright! Control yourself!”

Anger had boiled in Phoenix. How could he sit there and watch his own attorney bully Dollie like this? Dollie was a petite woman with such delicate skin that she always carries a parasol, so she doesn’t get a sunburn. The girl studies literature so she can choose words over violence as “The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword”.

“I-I won’t let you bully her like this…!” Phoenix continued, tears threating to spill.

The Judge slammed is gavel. “MR. WRIGHT!” he shouted with authority. “I thought I had told you to stay in your seat!”

Ms. Fey slammed her hands on the desk. “Mr. Wright! W-why are you going through such lengths to protect her!?” the woman cried out.

“B-Because I’m madly in l-love with her!” the young man shouted, his face flushing in a combination of embarrassment and his low-grade fever.

He’s never said those words out in public. Both he and Dollie had always said and expressed their love for each other in private – either in his college dorm room or in her private apartment she had off campus. Saying it out loud, in front of everyone, made him want to crawl under the desk and cry.

You’ve always been so sensitive, Ryu. His mother had always told him, always calling him the nickname of his middle name.

Ms. Fey sighed in exasperation, “Mr. Wright…” she tapped her forehead in almost annoyance. “Have you ever thought about this? Why would a woman like Ms. Hawthorne want to date you anyway?”

I mean… ouch.

Phoenix would consider himself… average looking at best. He didn’t really date in high school – it didn’t help that he hung out with Larry Butz a lot and of course “When something Smells, it’s usually the Butz!” Once he started college there were a couple of dates, meeting a couple of guys at a local bar and grill, a girl or two at a movie, and going to a few parties at a frat house and chatting.

But Dahlia was the first one to willing… throw herself at him? He was the one who would approach others and it was usually the most awkward thing in the world until he had a drink or two in. The young woman literally gave him the heart-shaped necklace, made of glass, and gave him such a smile that he couldn’t refuse.

Then Ms. Fey mentioned the necklace… it was coming back to the necklace again…

That damned necklace.

“Y-you’re l-lying…” Phoenix kept mumbling to himself as Ms. Fey kept pushing about the necklace and how Dollie just wanted it back.

“You never gave it back to her,” Ms. Fey continued. “And you kept refusing. On top of it all, you kept showing it to everyone you met. That’s why she-”

“… I don’t… I don’t believe you!” Phoenix finally cried out, tears spilling over his eyes. “NOO! That’s a l…l-lie!” He rushed over by Ms. Fey and nearly tackling her, tears nearly blinding him as he wailed.

“EEK!” his attorney shouted in panic.

What she didn’t realize was that Phoenix slipped his hand into her pocket and grabbed the necklace back.

“The Defendant!” a bailiff shouted. “He’s getting away!”

Phoenix ignored the shouts as he ran out of the courtroom. As he had ran by Dollie, there was almost a… sinister smile on her face. Was he imagining it?

He ran down the hall and turned a corner, managing to slip into the restroom quickly before the bailiff could see. Quickly, he locked the door behind him and entered a stall. He opened his hand to see blue and gold pendant, heart-shaped, a glass crystal in its center.

Eight months… he thought bitterly to himself. I’ve had this for eight months. Ms. Fey says there is poison in this? Did Dollie really… poison that other attorney…?

Looking in the glass bottle, there was a quarter of fluid in there. Without thinking, Phoenix pulled down his mask, ignoring the cough building up in his throat, and began crushing the glass in his mouth.

He felt the iron tang along with something else tinging his tongue. But he ignored it. All that mattered was that he was going to prove that Dollie was not hiding poison or had been trying to kill him. Every swallow of the broken glass was tearing his already scratchy, sore throat.

He felt blood trickle down the corners of his mouth, and with a quick motion of a ripping a piece of toilet paper he promptly wiped it away. He ignored the bright scarlet. He ignored the iron taste. He ignored what almost smelled like flowers wafting into his nose mixed with iron – an almost bitter smell.

After a few minutes of breaking apart the rest of the necklace and disposing it (him eating it), he gave a few sneezes and coughs, ignoring the splatter of blood that he sprayed on the wall of the small cubicle he was in, and exited the stall. He made his way to the mirror and saw his reflection.

It was like seeing a hollow version of himself. He still had his usual spikiness of his hair, but his normally dark blue eyes were almost tinged gray – lifeless. Dark circles were under his eyes, his skin pale and clammy.

What does a poisoned person look like? He had been fighting a cold for the past three days – of course he looked sick. Is he going to look worse? Is he going to drop dead?

After a solid five minutes of nothing – Phoenix gave a smirk.

He finally left the bathroom with his hands up and let the bailiffs take him back to the courtroom.

Phoenix Wright was given a “Not Guilty” verdict for the murder of Doug Swallow.

He should be happy. He was not going to prison. He could still become a lawyer and help his oldest friend…

But… he wasn’t… Phoenix couldn’t.

So… it was all a lie…?

“Oh! Mr. Wright!” a familiar voice called out to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Congratulations!” Ms. Fey held out her hand for a handshake.

For a moment, Phoenix stared blankly at it, but he then grasped it and shook it gratefully. “Th-thank you, Ms. Fey…” he said tearfully. “I-I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused…”

Ms. Fey blinked at him in surprise. “Mr. Wright… I know you must still be in shock from everything…” she began to say.

“Dollie…” he barely whispered. “I don’t think that was actually her on the stand…”

“I…I’m not sure what you mean by that, Mr. Wright…” she replied in confusion.

Phoenix shook his head softly. Why did his head hurt suddenly? Maybe he was getting a headache from all this excitement…

“The Dollie I knew… would never say those kinds of things…” Phoenix explained, him still feeling bewildered. “She was always so sweet… and… and ca-car-” He gave a rough cough. His throat felt like knives were tearing at it. His stomach was burning. He needed to pick up a not poisoned cold-killing medicine on his way back to the dorm.

“Mr. Wright!” Ms. Fey shouted in panic, her hazel eyes wide in horror. “Are you okay!?”

“Huh…?”

“I need to call you an ambulance!”

“…why…?”

Phoenix felt his legs wobble, the corners of his vision going dark. He coughed again, gasping for air. He had to rip off his mask as it felt suffocating… but it wasn’t the mask that was suffocating.

It was the blood that was splattering into his hand.

“Uh… M-M-Mia…?” Phoenix softly called out, his legs buckling. “I-I’m s-s-sor…rry…”

“PHOENIX!”

The wailing of sirens was the last thing he heard as he crashed into Mia Fey’s arms, coughing more blood onto the white of her jacket, staining it scarlet.

He opened his eyes with a loud gasp, the sounds of beeping around him.

An oxygen mask covered his face, feeling a bunch of wires and tubing covering exposed skin, and something was uncomfortably shoved up his nose. A scratchy blanket covered him, thin and cold, it does nothing for him to contain body heat.

Phoenix darted his eyes around him, noting that the room was a stark white. Sterile. Unwelcoming.

It wasn’t his first time in a hospital bed for something dumb.

It was his first time however in a hospital bed for something idiotic.

“So, you’re awake now, Mr. Wright?” a soft voice asked.

Phoenix managed to crane his neck to his left to see his attorney in a chair, wearing casual clothing with a dark purple knitted sweater and a pair of black slacks, and her purple magatama that was almost glowing front and center on her chest. In her hands was a cup of coffee, most likely from a vending machine and from questionable origin.

“Ms.… Fey…?” Phoenix choked out, his voice dry and hoarse. He reached up to his face and pulled off his oxygen mask. He gave a cough to try to clear it, but when he did, he felt as though his chest was on fire.

“You were in surgery for about thirteen hours, Phoenix…” she worriedly said. “They actually said that was short.”

“… I was…?”

“You are lucky son of a bitch, you know that!?” Ms. Fey then screamed, her standing up from her chair. “You ate a knowingly poisoned necklace!”

“… I thought… it wasn’t…” Phoenix choked, him feeling tears sting his eyes.

“You were willing to bet your life on that!?” she furiously screamed, tears in her eyes. “My first trial ended because the defendant committed suicide from doing what your DUMB ASS DID!” She threw her coffee to the ground, it splattering to the floor. “Well… not exactly what you did… he just drank the full dose of poison…” Her hands were balled up into fists at her sides. “Someone… someone I care about is in a room a few doors down was unknowingly poisoned by that bitch! He’s been in a coma for the past eight months! And yet… you were willing to bet your life that she wouldn’t kill you…!”

Phoenix darted his eyes away from hers. He didn’t realize that’s what happened. “I…” was all he could manage.

Ms. Fey sighed, her voice shaking. “They said you were lucky… the poison wasn’t as potent due to half-life…” she explained, her voice softer, seemingly realizing she let out too much of her emotions. “The glass… luckily didn’t cut your esophagus… it did cut your stomach lining though and got into your small intestine.”

“…”

“They managed to get all the glass out and stitch you up on the inside to make sure there is no internal bleeding,” she continued. She glanced at the I.V. bag and the feeding tube that was going up Phoenix’s nose. “The poison may affect your absorption of nutrients as well…” she added. “It sounds like you may not like eating much anymore…” She gave a morbid chuckle dripping with sarcasm, “Every girl’s diet wish.”

“Can… I…” Phoenix tried to speak, but his throat was so dry.

“Do you want water…?”

He nodded.

Ms. Fey handed him a cup of ice water that was on a tray next to her.

Phoenix managed to prop himself up in the bed and gulp the water down in one swig. He cleared his throat.

“Much better…” he softly spoke. His voice was still hoarse, but at least it wasn’t drier than the Sahara Desert. He then took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m sorry I was an idiot,” he expressed full heartedly. “I… I should have listened to you… Dahlia was right… what use am I to anyone…? Maybe I should’ve just-”

Phoenix then felt a warm hand on his. “Don’t!” Ms. Fey’s stern voice interrupted. “Don’t you dare say you rather be dead!” Her hard glare was full of determination, confidence, and what Phoenix could describe as… hope. “You are worth it to someone! I wouldn’t have fought so hard for you in court if I didn’t think you were worth it, Phoenix!”

The young man blinked in confusion. Then he gave a bitter chuckle, “I thought you insisted on being my attorney because she was involved…?”

Ms. Fey looked startled. “I mean…” she choked out. “It… did start out like that…” she admitted. “But as the trial went on… I realized that you reminded me a lot… of myself. Scared and unsure of yourself. Dahlia mentioned in a testimony that you are also studying law…? Why as an art student are you studying law?”

Phoenix darted his eyes away. “I minor in law…” he lowly said. “I wanted to be a Defense Attorney when I was kid… I put it on the back burner for a bit and focused on art instead…” He then noticed a newspaper on the table next to where Ms. Fey was sitting, it showing someone very familiar on the front page… “Hey… can I see that paper for a second…?”

Ms. Fey looked confused as she grabbed it. “Um… sure?” she muttered as she handed it to the young college student.

Phoenix read the front page, the title reading: “DEMON PROSECUTOR WINS AGAIN”.

“What… have you become, Miles…?” Phoenix barely whispered.

“I beg your pardon, Phoenix?” Ms. Fey asked.

“Ms. Fey…” Phoenix began, him folding the newspaper up, the picture showing clear as day his old childhood friend: Miles Edgeworth. “A lawyer is someone who can help people when they’re in trouble… right?”

She gave a soft look, almost like an older sister. “I’m… still new to this lawyering thing myself, but I think that’s what a lawyer does,” she told him.

Phoenix gave her a large smile. “Then that’s what I’ll do!” he said confidently. “I’ll study my ass off! No more half-assing my lawyer classes! I’m going to become a Defense Attorney! Maybe we can meet each other again!”

“I’ll do you one better…” she said as she extended her hand to him. “I’ll help you get there… you can call me ‘Mia’ for now on.” She then gave him a wink. “Or ‘Chief’. I like the sound of that.”

“‘Chief’?” he echoed.

“Yeah… I’m probably going to be opening my own firm… ‘Fey & Co.’,” she admitted slyly as she tapped her chin. “How about I take you under my wing? You can be the ‘Co’ of ‘Fey & Co’.” She was beaming with every word.

Phoenix felt his face go red. “Wait… what…!?” he stammered. “Even though… even though…!?”

“You may be a dumbass in social situations,” Mia told him with a smirk. She then pulled out his transcripts from his college courses. “But… you’re actually good with your testing scores – you just don’t like doing your actual work.”

Phoenix crossed his arms stubbornly. “Well… the tests should be what counts…” he muttered.

“You’re a straight A student in every test you take – even going past the grading scale with extra credit questions because you think outside the box.”

“…”

“So, let’s get your grades up and get you to pass your Bar Exam.”

“Are… you sure you want to put all your faith in me, Ms. – I mean, Chief?”

Mia then gave him a large smile. “Phoenix Wright – you may have gotten a poisoned heart from love, but you’re an amazing person, this one incident isn’t going to break you. We Fey’s have this uncanny feeling about this sort of thing. I’m going to make sure you become a damn good attorney – an Ace Attorney if you will.” She winked at him again.

A smile crossed his face again. “Th-thank you, Mia…” he whispered, his voice wavering.

September 10, 2016 - 9:00am

Los Angeles Hospital Cremation Services

It was a little more than two years since that day… since that trial…

Phoenix Wright stood in the hallway in the basement of the hospital with Maya Fey, the younger sister of his mentor - his old attorney, his friend – waiting for hospital staff to seal the doors of the cremation room.

She’s right there… on the other side… her body…

But it was just the night before he heard her voice in the office. She told him that he was finally leaving the nest… that she would always watch over him. Mia had saved him again at the trial at the last moment – Maya being a Spirit Medium-in-training was able to channel the deceased Mia finally gave Phoenix the last piece of the puzzle he needed for Maya – and his – acquittal.

Miles Edgeworth – the man that was the reason why he even became an attorney in the first place – was the prosecutor in the case. He was even shocked at the turn in of events, and for the first time since 2013, he had lost a trail. The Demon Prosecutor had lost his perfect trial record to a rookie first year Defense Attorney who was only defending his second trial.

Lost in thought, Phoenix didn’t hear the operator as a switch was pulled. Orange engulfed his view through the window. A small gasp escaped Maya as she then began to mumble prayers to herself.

Phoenix was not a religious man – he never was. He remembered a few phrases from his Soba Naruhodo that were prayers for the deceased, something they did for their ancestors from time to time, so that was what he prayed to Mia.

“Don’t worry, Phoenix – we’re not done with each other yet!”

M-Mia?!

“Don’t let my death poison your heart, Phoenix – remember, you’re an amazing person! Please take care of each other, okay…?”

I… we will, Chief…

Thank you… Mia.

Phoenix and Maya had split Mia’s ashes in half.

Maya had kept her half of the ashes in a purple urn that was the same color as the late Fey’s magatama, her name engraved in the stone. The young Spirit Medium also kept a special hollow magatama and kept a bit of ash in there to carry on her person – she stated it was easier to channel Mia’s spirit and she liked the fact that her sister was always with her.

Phoenix had a purple urn as well, but it was more subtle looking. In a way it resembled a house plant pot… He had looked into it, a “Living Urn” it was called. At that moment, Phoenix had Mia’s ashes mixed in soil in a biodegradable urn to help lower pH levels and for the soil and ashes to become acclimated with one another. Once all that was said in done – he was going to transfer Charlie the plant into the large purple “Urn” pot so that Mia would help Charlie continue to grow and live in the office.

Mia was the life of the office. She was the life of Maya. She was the life of Charlie.

And she was the life of Phoenix - the one who helped heal his poisoned heart.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney fandom #ace attorney fanfiction #naruhodō ryūichi #a03 fanfic #fanfiction #phoenix wright ace attorney trilogy #mia fey #dahlia hawthorne #a03 link #a03 #a03 writer #a03 fic #chihiro ayasato #ayasato chihiro #miyanagi chinami

17 notes · View notes

randomstarmuffin · 5 months ago

Text

AUgust Day 1: Canon Divergence

dunno how many of these i'll actually manage but yay to at least 1!

cross-posted to ao3 and i'm so sorry but i work in 5 hrs and haven't slept so i'm just going to leave the actually good tagging there, apologies

April 11, 9:48 AM District Court Defendant Lobby No. 3

“Mr.… Swellow, right?”

“Uh. What am I, a Pokémon? Heh. Like, ‘Who’s that…’”

“…A…what?”

Well. Mia’s really off to a rocking start, here.

Mr. Grossberg’s correct, of course, in his little defendant’s lobby pep talk—she shouldn’t let the client see her like this, but she can’t help her frown or involuntarily biting her lip all the same. What the hell is a ‘pokey-mon’? Is that somehow relevant to the case? Did she miss something important in the court record, or–

“Er, you know what, never mind,” Doug Swellow says hurriedly, looking at her in concern—great, Mia, really great work, way to keep the client calm and assured. “I just meant, it’s actually Swallow, not Swellow. Like…huh, actually. Like the bird, I guess—just, the real one and not the ��mon, y’know?”

Mia…really doesn’t know. She’s also not sure if several of those words were even words.

“A-hem,” Grossberg coughs pointedly. “That aside, Mr. Swallow, rest assured, you’re in good hands.”

“Right,” Mia says, possibly a little too grateful for the save, “I promise, if you’re truly innocent, I will do everything I possibly can to save you!”

“Uhh,” Doug replies, leaning back as far as he can, “yeah, great. Would you mind, maybe, letting go of my jacket? Thanks.”

Right, right, right, it’s totally alright. Mr. Swellow—er, that is, Swallow—is the one on trial, and Mia’s got this. She knows what she has to do, and she can totally get through this and there’s no reason to be nervous at all. Once all’s said and done, she’ll be able to rest easy, she’ll be able to tell Diego he can rest easy, and Doug here will be able to rest easy, too…and preferably won’t be looking at her with such a clear questioning of the wisdom of his decision to agree to let her take over his defense from Mr. Grossberg anymore.

On the bright side, things can only go up from here.

April 11, 10:12 AM District Court Courtroom No. 2

Things go downhill very, very quickly.

It’s easy enough to answer the court’s first few questions: the defense is ready; the cause of death was poisoning; the motive, the “bad blood” between the parties involved, was, of course, Dahlia Hawthorne, the victim’s girlfriend and the defendant’s ex. Mia knows all that, even if it’s insulting to be treated like such a rookie she had to be asked the basics of the case at all—even more so that Winston “Rookie Killer” Payne was the one so smugly leading the discussion.

…Even more so, that, maybe, she really had been freaking out enough that some of the fundamental basics of court had fled her mind. Only for a moment, of course! But it still stings that Prosecutor Payne’s annoying needling actually helped her in any way.

Even then, it’s one thing to be treated like a rookie who doesn’t know the basics of the case (even if she had been furiously catching up on everything in the court record as the trial began). It’s another thing entirely for all of the evidence to stack up so quickly and concisely to implicate her client.

It’s another thing entirely to have to cross-examine her right off the bat.

As if that demure, crocodile grin wasn’t bad enough, the crocodile tears Dahlia Hawhorne hits the court with as soon as she steps on the stand are genuinely nauseating. Then again, maybe Mia’s the only one who thinks so—the judge and Prosecutor Payne are clearly charmed, and even Grossberg murmurs, “Poor girl,” from Mia’s side, despite the sharp elbow jab he receives in response.

In fairness, she would be, if Mia weren’t positive that not even an ounce of her so-sad sympathy-sculpting sorrow is sincere. If Mia weren’t sure that this woman is the one behind this whole thing, to begin with.

If Dahlia Hawthorne weren’t so clearly trying to get away with poisoning someone again.

Mia almost misses it, but someone scoffs as Hawthorne launches into her latest round of tearful, sobbing “testimony” (more accurately: accusation)—“I thought Dougie was better than this, how could he let his jealousy get the best of him, what did poor Feenie ever do to deserve this?!”—and when Mia surreptitiously glances askance to find the source, she finds the only other face in the room darkened with clear disdain rather than bleeding sympathy is her client’s.

So maybe there’s hope, then. Maybe despite having dated her in the past, Doug Swallow actually sees this megalomaniac for who she really is. It would certainly be a breath of fresh air, and it’s all the second wind she needs to reaffirm she has to prove this man’s innocence, however she can.

She’ll make sure he walks free, and she’ll make sure to get justice for the victim—for all of Hawthorne’s victims.

As for the cross-examination at hand…

Hawthorne sniffles piteously as she finally answers the question Payne had actually asked her: “We had dinner plans, so that’s why I went to Feenie’s place to meet up, and–! Oh, it’s too horrible!” She punctuates it with some more sobbing, but Mia isn’t deterred.

On the contrary, she calls, “Hold it! When you say ‘it’s too horrible,’ you’re referring to…?”

“F-finding his body, of course,” Hawthorne sobs, “he was just lying there, and, oh, poor Feenie–!”

“Witness,” Mia interrupts, “we are looking for facts with your testimony. We don’t need–”

“Ms. Fey, have a heart! Can’t you see the poor girl is in mourning? I can’t even imagine how hard this must all be for you, sweetie; please, take your time,” Payne cries.

Unfortunately, the judge all too readily agrees that she is, somehow, the one in the wrong here, and Mia is forced to try a slightly less aggressive approach.

“Urgh–! Okay. Fine. Then, Ms. Hawthorne, when you say you had dinner plans, when exactly were you supposed to meet?”

Altogether, it’s, to put it bluntly, a slog. Dancing around Hawthorne’s lies and the judge and Payne’s incessant gooey-eyed protectiveness of her is infuriating, but eventually, they can put together something of a timeline.

The problem is, Doug Swallow was witnessed exiting the victim’s building around 4 PM—and not just by Hawthorne, but corroborated by a bunch of Art Department students who knew the victim as well (not that he would have been hard to identify, considering his obnoxious sweater)—and Hawthorne herself claims to have entered it later at around 5:30, at which point other students heard her scream and someone eventually called 911 at exactly 5:34, which would seem to line up perfectly.

Hawthorne is vague about why she would have been hanging around the victim’s building at 4 if she wasn’t going to go in until later, but Mia isn’t able to press her about it very hard before His Honor stops her from “going too far” for something not particularly related to the case.

In any event, when Payne calls the defendant to the stand to testify himself, Mia meets his eyes and finds again a kinship to her own feelings about Hawthorne, and she can definitively state that the defense has no objections. Besides, Swallow is innocent.

All she has to do is prove it.

April 11, 12:17 AM District Court Courtroom No. 2

“Proving it” is proving difficult.

It’s news to Mia that they’d found the defendant’s fingerprints on the victim’s bottle of cold medicine—even when the judge calls for a 20 minute recess following the change of witness and this revelation, and she takes the opportunity to grill him about it, he just laughs humorlessly and sits heavily on the couch with his head in his hands, saying, “I’m fucked. She got me.”

She’s hoping getting back in the courtroom will make her client more forthcoming, but he clearly doesn’t want to tell them what actually happened.

“What’s the point?” Swallow asks, smiling bitterly. “No one would ever believe me.”

“Mr. Swallow,” Mia implores, or perhaps begs, with how desperate she feels, “I swear to you, I believe in you. I believe in your innocence, and I want to help prove it. But I can’t do that unless you tell me what happened. Please.”

He stares her down for a moment. “I really don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say.”

“That’s fine. I don’t have to like it, I just need to know what really happened. If—if you want me to get—the person who did this—and to get due justice for you and Mr. Wright, I need to know.”

Doug sighs. “That poor sucker. He never knew what hit him… Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll tell you, but…don’t blame me if you have to eat your words.”

Mia wishes she could say she wasn’t worried about it, but she has no idea what to expect. Indeed, she doesn’t expect what he tells them, but it’s not as bad as she feared. That doesn’t make it good, but…

“I called him out to talk—Phoenix Wright, I mean. We were supposed to meet at 2:45 PM after class behind the Pharmacology Building. I was there on time, but he never showed. I waited around for a while by myself, but eventually I figured he wasn’t coming and left. I…got worried, later, and…that’s why I went to his place. The medicine bottle…that…wasn’t my fault.”

Sure, there’s more than enough clearly wrong with that, but it’s also something to work with.

“What did you want to talk to him about?”

“Oh. I…well, to be honest, I wanted to warn him about Dahlia.”

“‘Warn’ him? How so?” Mia presses, hoping she doesn’t sound too eager.

“She’s…” he hesitates, eyeing the judge mistrustfully, “she’s not the person she seems like she is. There were…there were a couple of…thefts. In the labs, in the pharmacology department.”

“Thefts of what?” Mia prompts.

“…Deadly poison. Once the night before the incident, and once eight months ago.”

Eight months ago! Finally, finally.

Swallow continues, “I wanted to warn that guy—Mr. Wright—just in case. I was worried because…Dahlia had come to the lab both times. She was the only one who could have stolen it! I have no idea what she was doing with it, but…well. Rather, I had no idea. Now that it’s come to this, though…I feel like it’s pretty clear.”

Mia can barely hear the murmur of the gallery over the pounding in her own ears. Dahlia Hawthorne stole deadly poison from the pharmacology lab eight months ago. It’s exactly what she’s been waiting for.

Before she gets ahead of herself, she needs to make sure she gets everything she can out of this cross-examination, though.

The judge calls for order, and Mia takes a deep breath of her own.

“Then, Mr. Swallow,” she prompts, “when you say you were worried about the defendant and went looking for him at his place, you mean…?”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect the guy to end up dead! I just…when he told me he’d be there at the meeting time, he sounded pretty set on coming. I guess I was more worried Dahlia had gotten to him first—er, well, not like… Like, that she’d told him not to talk to me, y’know.”

“And when you arrived at Mr. Wright’s room, what happened?”

“I knocked, but no answer. His neighbor saw me in the hall and told me he’d tried to go out earlier but his cold had apparently gotten worse and he barely made it to the end of the hallway before some of the other students had to take him back.”

“Did they see Ms. Hawthorne?”

“I…didn’t ask, sorry. I should have. But, I kind of doubt it…”

“That’s okay,” Mia says. There’s only one last thing she really needs to follow up on, then. “Mr. Swallow. When you said the medicine bottle ‘wasn’t your fault,’ what did you mean by that?”

He lets out a heavy breath, like maybe he’s been expecting this all along. “Right. Well. That would be because…”

His hesitation lasts long enough Mia has to prompt, “Because?”

“Because,” Swallow sighs, “I didn’t end up seeing Phoenix Wright at all that day, but I did run into Dahlia Hawthorne.”

The judge has to call for order. When things have quieted down again, Mia has to reign in her own excitement. She’s so close. She can almost taste it.

“And when was that?” Mia asks, “What happened then?”

“It was while I was waiting for Mr. Wright. She passed by the Pharmacology Department…and ran into me, literally. She bumped into me—I thought because our umbrellas had been obscuring us from each other, and she’d had headphones on, but…”

“You don’t think that anymore?”

He laughs harshly. “Yeah, not really. She fell over when she bumped me, both our umbrellas went flying…and she dropped some other stuff she’d been carrying. Including a bottle of Coldkiller X…which I stupidly picked up for her. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was literally the whole reason she approached me in the first place.”

Prosecutor Payne sneers, “Hah! How convenient! Your Honor, the witness is clearly lying through his teeth to cover his tracks!”

Mia’s pretty sure Swallow mutters, “That’s what I was afraid of,” but she doesn’t have time for that.

She has to convince the judge that her client is telling the truth. And… She thumbs the corner of the newspaper clipping in her pocket. She has to find a way to connect this to Diego’s poisoning. She has to.

She is so, so close.

April 11, 2:59 PM District Court Defendant Lobby No. 3

She never gets close.

There just isn’t any evidence. She can’t prove Dahlia Hawthorne stole the poison from the lab, and all she has is Doug’s word that she was ever there at all. No surveillance cameras, no entry or exit logs, no nothing.

She can’t prove it.

She can, and does, however, prove Doug Swallow’s innocence. The words “Not Guilty” have never sounded so bitter. It’s a fluke, honestly. Most of the end of the trial is a blur. It turns out Swallow has an airtight alibi that somehow they’ve all missed. It turns out, by some miracle, Swallow never had the opportunity to take the specific poison that was used, that he was always with at least one other person in the lab, that—honestly, even if she only just proved it all, she barely remembers the specifics; it’s just, it doesn’t really matter.

It doesn’t matter, because Mia fails. She couldn’t prove she stabbed Valerie Hawthorne, she couldn’t prove she pressured Terry Fawles into taking poison to silence himself for her, and.

She can’t prove Dahlia Hawthorne murdered Phoenix Wright.

She still can’t prove Dahlia Hawthorne poisoned Diego.

The insidious tinkling of Hawthorne’s smug laughter chases Mia out of the courtroom. She was honestly ready to lay everything on the line just for a chance to bring Dahlia to justice, even a very, very slim one, but Mr. Grossberg had stopped her before she’d pressed hard enough to lose her badge entirely. He’d had a point, she supposes. If she loses her badge, she’s that much further from being able to do anything about any of this. If she loses her badge, she’s that much further from her original goal, from finding the man who ruined her mother and her village and bringing him to justice, too.

But it hurts.

Diego once told her a lawyer can only cry when it’s all over.

But fuck, she wants to cry. She wants to scream and bitch and moan and curse until her throat is raw, too, but she really, really wants to cry.

She won’t. He’s right. She still has work to do. But that doesn’t erase the want.

Still. Even if there’s a dark, heavy pit in her stomach, even if this is somehow nearly as bad as the worst day of her life, when she’d had to watch her first client die on the stand before her very eyes, she still has a duty to her current client.

She forces the brightest smile she can muster.

It might not be enough, but it’s something. She has to try. It can be the darkest hour, and she still has to try. She couldn’t live with herself otherwise.

“Congratulations, Mr. Swallow,” Mia manages, turning to him. Smiling.

“Yes, congratulations!” Grossberg agrees, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. Mia’s boss is undoubtedly faring better than she is, but she can tell he’s far from unphased. Still, she appreciates that he’s able to muster a little more enthusiasm—Doug deserves it from somewhere, at least, and it sure as hell isn’t going to get there from Mia.

“Thanks,” Swallow says. He smiles back, although Mia can tell he’s feeling a much more real sense of relief at his acquittal than she is. He winces a little, like maybe he can tell as well. “I’m…really sorry I didn’t have anything else to help prove it was her.”

“No, no, that’s… You have nothing to apologize for,” Mia replies honestly. “If anything, I really need to thank you. Even just knowing where the poison was from…that’s a great clue. Really.”

Swallow looks like maybe he can’t decide if she’s just being nice about that or not, but if he has doubts he doesn’t say anything about them.

Mr. Grossberg asks, “What will you do now?”

The question reminds Mia—she feels terrible she’d forgotten to even think about it, frankly. She gasps, “Shit—sorry, Mr. Swallow. But—I don’t think she’s going to just forget about this. You might still be in danger–”

“Ah,” Swallow says, not sounding particularly surprised, “yeah, I…was kinda thinking the same thing. Then again, if anything happens to me now, it seems like it’d be pretty obvious, so maybe… Well, either way, this is my last year. I graduate in a couple months. Maybe I’ll be a little extra paranoid during that time, but, hey, y’know. I got falsely accused of murder, and all. I don’t think my classmates will find it all that weird if I insist on taking a buddy with me everywhere.”

It’s not a terrible plan—it is, in fact, an exponentially better plan than anything Mia had come up with, which was a big fat nothing, because she’d been so clouded by her dark, bitter disappointment and rage that she’d let Dahlia Hawthorne get away again.

Grossberg seems to agree, for whatever that’s worth, because he says, “That sounds like a wise course of action, but still, be careful out there, my boy.”

Actually, Grossberg looks a little like he’s thinking about how he might need to watch his own back, too—which, in all fairness, is absolutely true.

“Yeah,” Doug agrees, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “You too. You know…it’s a shame, really.”

“What is?” Mia asks. Which specific shame are we talking, here? There are oh-so-many to choose from.

Doug is looking at the doors to the courtroom like he hasn’t quite caught up with the fact he doesn’t have to go back into it yet. “It’s a shame about Phoenix Wright, I mean.”

“Oh,” Mia says, feeling stupid. Obviously. And it is a shame. She’s feeling keenly her own shame at not being able to catch his killer.

“Yeah. He must have—I mean, they spent so much time together, you know? He had to have known something else—maybe, if only you could ask him, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong, the guy seemed like a total simp, but still. You can’t spend that much of your time with someone and never give anything away, right? Or pick up on something? He must have known something that could have helped prove it. Then again, I guess that’s probably why he’s, you know…”

“Y…yeah,” Mia says faintly.

Her mind is whirling, overloaded, her processing running slowly. She’s stuck on—if only you could ask him.

If only…there was a way…to ask someone…someone dead–

“Well,” Grossberg is saying regretfully, “if only that were possible, and we might not even need lawyers working court cases after all. Imagine, if you could just ask every victim about what happened. You’ll put us out of a job, Mr. Swallow!”

The two men laugh, albeit more than a little lackluster, not as if it’s something particularly funny per se but more like the only thing you can do about something so ridiculous, so idealistic, so impossible, is in fact to laugh at the mere suggestion of it.

Mia feels like laughing, too, but maybe not in the same way.

April 11, 4:56 PM RosAnzerusu Mia Fey’s Apartment

Mia doesn’t laugh until she’s safely home, and, importantly, alone.

She thinks she said goodbye to them both, at some point. She’s pretty sure they all went their separate ways, considering she’s definitely by herself, now. She’s also pretty sure Grossberg dropped her off at her apartment, not being subtle about doing it because he was worried about letting her walk or take the bus alone after what just happened. She hopes she thanked him. She appreciates it, and it’s not his fault she’s got something else on her mind. It won’t exactly be fun to go back to the office on Monday, but she doesn’t think it’ll be completely suffocating, either.

Still, she laughs.

It’s, frankly, a terrible idea.

The last time anyone tried it for this specific purpose, Mia’s mom fucking vanished into the ether because of how utterly terribly it went, leaving not only Mia but also her 10-years-younger sister to fend for themselves in the downright ravenous jungle of the power struggle vacuum she left behind for them.

Then again, last time, it had been to name the killer, not to find evidence to implicate an already known killer. So maybe not, technically, this specific purpose.

It’s still a bad idea. It’s still such a bad idea.

Mia doesn’t realize she’s picked up her phone until it’s already ringing, and by then it would be far more cruel to hang up first.

“Sis!” comes the phone-distorted young voice to prove her right in no time at all. “What’s up?! You never call on Fridays!”

Even just hearing Maya’s voice is enough to make things seem less bleak. Mia hadn’t realized she needed that right now.

Mia can’t help but chuckle, though she hopes it’s a little less manic than the kind of cackling she’d been doing as she slid down her apartment door as soon as it closed behind her. “Hey, Maya.”

“I– Oh, oops, hang on,” Maya says, and then, slightly muffled: “No, it’s fine, Aunt Morgan, it’s just Mia! Yeah, I– Yeah, I know, don’t worry!” and then once more in her normal voice: “So! Hi! What’s goin’ on?”

Well, if only that weren’t such a loaded question. “Just got home from a trial.”

“Oh, well, that’s pretty— Wait, what?! Like a trial in court?! I thought you didn’t want to do those anymore? You never mentioned you were going back! What gives?”

Mia can’t completely hold back her sigh. She can’t unload all of this on Maya, she’s still so young—only fourteen. Mia is the older one; she’s the only truly loving, reliable family Maya has left in the world. It’s too much of a burden to share with her. Which is exactly why Mia should never have even remotely entertained the idea in the first place, and why she definitely shouldn’t have called, and–

“Helloooo? Mia? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m– I’m still here, Maya.” And then Mia stops there. And then Mia stops there and doesn’t continue because if she lets herself continue she’s going to say something stupid like: “Hey, Maya? How would you feel about coming for a visit? Maybe stay with me over the weekend, or…?”

Mia’s so busy refraining from smashing her face into her own door frame for her complete lack of self control, she almost doesn’t notice how unexpectedly lengthy the pause is before Maya replies.

She doesn’t have time to question it before Maya is saying, breathless and somehow both trepidatious and excited at the same time, “…You really mean it? Me come there? The whole weekend?!”

There’s too much jumbled around in Mia’s head to fully appreciate what it means that her sister doesn’t immediately believe she could really be inviting her over to her place. She can’t think about that, too. Not right now.

So she laughs a little (and no one can see her if it’s a bit helpless) and repeats, “Yes, Maya, the whole weekend. Unless you get sick of me, I guess.”

“No!” Maya shouts, maybe a little too quick and a little too loud. “No, I mean, that’s– Of course I wanna come! I just– I mean, I thought you’d be calling for a favor, or something. Haha.”

“Ah,” Mia says, wincing. “Well…”

“Oh,” Maya says, though she recovers her lighthearted tone much faster this time, “What, you need a housesitter or something, Sis? For shame, using your one and only little sister for manual child labor…”

“Ha-ha,” Mia replies flatly. “Not that kind of favor.”

In fact, if she can keep a hold of herself and her own better judgment, she might not ask any kind of favor at all. That’s what she knows she should do, at least.

Only…Diego. Only: Mr. Fawles, and Valerie Hawthorne, and Mr. Wright.

“Oh yeah? What kind of favor, then?”

Mia should just let it go. In all likelihood, he won’t react well to the whole thing, anyway. In all likelihood, he won’t be able to give a coherent answer, he’ll freak out, he’ll want nothing to do with them, he’ll—any number of things. A million ways it could all go very, very wrong. Not to mention—bringing Maya here? Now? Right after she challenged Dahlia Hawthorne again in such a direct way?

Mia would never forgive herself if she got her sister involved in something dangerous—and, well. This particular thing already has at least four bodies in its wake—three cold, one warm but unmoving.

Mia can’t do this. She can’t–

She can’t. She can’t let her go. What will she do when the next victim appears? When she could have tried something more to stop her?

“Well…” How to say this. In the end, Mia decides: “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, if you’re willing, Maya.”

And Maya answers, “Oh yeah? Sounds easy! Are they cool?”

“You know? I have no idea.”

“Huh? You mean it’s not someone you know?”

“Not really,” Mia laughs, “no. Want to find out together?”

“I,” says Maya, “have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but do you even have to ask? Of course! Which train do I take?”

If Mia were smart, if she were responsible, she’d call the whole thing off now.

So of course, Mia asks, “When’s the next one leave?”

And honestly, it might all be worth it just to hear Maya’s delighted laugh in response and to know, if nothing else, at least she’ll get to see her sister’s bright face soon.

It might.

Hopefully, she’s right to wager that it will be.

#au gust #au gust 2024 #ace attorney #uwahhh im!!! attempting!!!!#tbh just writing anything at all at rn is kinda a relief lol so thanks AUgust folks for providing some much desired Writing Motivation #t&t spoilers #i guess just #aa spoilers #in general lmao. kind of. sort of #i mean. tho its Very Much an au lmao thats the spirit of the whole thing #idk like i said better tags on ao3. GOODNIGHT #(and shhh. i did finish writing the fic yesterday it just took me another hour afterwards to post it and whatever)#OKAY well i tried to do a fun thing with the green text but fuck if i know how to fix whatever its doing lmao so. whatever! whatever

2 notes · View notes

carnationcreation · 4 years ago

Text

Safe haven (Will Byers x reader)

Masterlist

Prompt/summary: Reader is new in town and gets trapped in the upside down with Will

Word Count: 1,988

Warnings: Kidnapping (if you can call it that), mentions of PTSD, trauma bonding, etc.

Hawkins, Indiana was definitely a… strange town. I could never really pinpoint what made me think that but somewhere in the back of my mind that is just how I would describe it. Adjusting to a new life in a town that made me vaguely uncomfortable was not how I pictured my middle school years to finish up.

The move came as a surprise. With my dad getting a job at Hawkins lab my mom and I didn’t really have a choice but to move with him. After about a week of unpacking my mom finally got a job at the local newspaper as a secretary.

My science class was definitely interesting. Mr. Clarke was an enthusiastic teacher who really only taught to the four boys sitting up front, the rest just seemed like background characters. Everyone realized that they could get away with raising their hand only once a day and sometimes even less than that. Regardless of if the answer was correct or not Mr. Clarke would take that as participation and wouldn’t really force anyone to talk after that. Being the new kid that was amazing.

When I wasn’t at school I was either one of two places. One being at the office with my mom, or two blowing my allowance money at the arcade. Tonight was arcade night. Mom stayed late to finish up some last minute papers while I spent 2 hours playing Dig Doug and stuffing my face with chilli dogs from the concession stand. I even made the top score tonight. Before I knew it the clock finally hit 8:30 signalling closing time. I grabbed my bike off the rack and began my ride home.

The ride home was dark. My bike lamp was out so I tried to use the flashlight I kept in my bag. Riding one handed was not fun. I could feel clouds forming leaving the moisture smell in the air.

I heard something behind me and soon enough Will Byers pulled up next to me, “Hey!” he shouted, “you ride through Mirkwood?”

“What?” I shouted back.

“This road is called Mirkwood by the locals, where’s your house?”

“Just beyond the ridge, my dad works at the lab” I said, his bike lamp was now illuminating the way so I put my flashlight into my front basket.

“I didn’t even know you lived that close to me,” he smiled.

“Me neither.”

Just then Will’s lamp started flickering. We both jolted on our bikes trying to adjust to the darkness. Right as we started up the hill a tall lanky figure appeared in front of us. We both swerved to the right. We sped down a hill and into a ditch. My bike crashed into a try sending my flying onto my back. For a second I laid there trying to regain the wind that was knocked out of me.

“(Y/n)! Come on we gotta get out of here!” Will said. He pulled me to my feet and we began to run through the woods. Tripping over tree limbs and stumbling over rocks.

“My house is right over here,” he yelled.

We ran inside. Turning the lock and the deadbolt before he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the back. “Johnathan? Mom?”

His dog continued to bark. Will grabbed the phone and tried to dial 911, but a loud static sound was heard even from where I stood. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest knife out of the block. A loud bang was heard at the front door and Will dropped the phone.

“There’s a gun out back,” Will said.

We barricaded the shed door as much as we could, Will fumbled with the rifle but soon had one in the chamber and pointing at the door. I gripped the knife so tight my knuckles went white.

A strange gurgling was heard behind us.

As we turned around, there it was.

We were gone before we could react.

________________________________________________

We woke up in the woods.

Not in the same woods we ran through, but I swear it was the same one just… dark. The same feeling I got in the back of my head walking through town. Random particles flew through the air. Spores? Dust?

Will groaned from beside me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I think so.”

From ahead was the same gurgling we heard last night.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Run.”

________________________________________________

We ran.

For 2 days we ran. Breaking into gas stations and the grocery store to hide and steal food when we could. Everything tasted bland or stale. We stashed water bottles in our backpacks along with chips and granola bars. Taking turns sleeping and staying on the move.

It was terrifying.

Every single noise felt like it was my last moment alive. Every movement out of the corner of my eyes made me jump. When I could sleep it felt like I hadn’t at all. We never got a good look at that, well, thing, that took us. All we knew is that it was huge and dangerous. The tentacles tried to grab us but we dodged as much as we could.

It was so cold we would sleep in the same sleeping bag we found. Any embarrassment went out the door due to me almost getting frostbite on my toes. We took shifts sleeping when we could. I think Will let me sleep longer than our agreed time but I never said anything. It made me feel selfish.

Sometimes when we thought it was safe we would talk. Anything that came to mind we would discuss, trying to make it feel like we weren’t being hunted by a creature in a strange world we didn’t know. We talked about music, books, science, video games. Anything.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” I asked. Will shifted so he could look down at me. My head was on his shoulder and his arm was around me. The ground was hard under us but I felt the most comfortable I could be at that moment.

“Well, I think so. My mom always tells us how she loves us more than anything, and Johnathan is the only brother I have. What about you?”

“My dad isn’t around much, my mom tries her best to make my life seem normal but it doesn’t always work out. I know she’s probably tearing up the town trying to find out where I am. Oh gosh I hope she doesn’t think I ran away.”

“Our bikes were left in the woods, I think they would’ve found them by now. How long has it been?” Will said, he stretched his right arm out to place behind his head as a pillow.

“A few days at least,” I said before I yawned loudly.

Will smiled, “Get some rest, I’ll take first watch.”

I pressed my nose towards his shoulder to hide my smile. Just as I began to drift off the words popped into my head. He’s my safe haven.

We were exhausted.

I think that was part of the creature's game. It wanted us to run and wear ourselves out so it could kill us easier. I tried to fight that theory with everything I could. I stocked energy drinks when we could find them, we made coffee one night to drink the next morning, anything we could to give us enough energy to run the next day.

But it wasn't enough.

________________________________________________

It finally got us.

All that running just made us fall into its trap.

Watching Will get picked up by the tentacles and dragged away from me played over in my mind. The last thing I remembered was the thing shoving some sort of gross tube down my throat. And now it just feels like I’m lucid dreaming. I saw my house, not the one in Hawkins but the one I lived in before we moved. My family was inside. I thought I was safe yet I still felt that feeling in the back of my brain. That’s when they attacked me.

The nightmares only got worse from there.

I felt myself slowly slipping away. Like a battery in my brain was slowly being drained. I fought to keep dreaming but I was getting flooded with the exhaustion and the want to give up.

Where was Will? I just wanted to be back in the sleeping bag with him. I wanted to feel his arms around me and his slow breathing in my ear.

I felt something being ripped out of me. My lungs felt like I was underwater. I felt someone pressing on my chest and I woke up coughing. I sputtered, gasped, and cried as I was lifted into someone's arms.

“(Y/n)? This is police chief Hopper. You’re safe now.”

He looked familiar. I racked my brain trying to think of where I saw him but I only had one thought on my mind. Hopper placed an oxygen mask over my face.

“Will?” I gasped out. My chest still hurt.

“He’s right here,” a woman said, she had him cradled in his arms.

I reached out to him. I needed to make sure he was still there. That this wasn’t a nightmare.

He grabbed on to my hand.

“Please don’t let go,” I sobbed.

“I promise,” he said.

And he didn’t.

Not when we were put into the car, not when we got to the hospital, not even when we were being treated. The adults just left us alone. We were put in two beds as close together as possible. At one point a doctor came in to take my vidals and tried to pull me away from him, I don’t know exactly why but I broke down. Another doctor came in and explained something about trauma bonding and PTSD.

My parents came to see me. Dad didn’t look too happy about me holding hands with a boy, but he still didn’t say anything. Apparently he quit his job at the lab.

Weeks passed by in an instant. The nightmares never stopped but they did get better. Will showed me castle Byers and we often went there after I asked him over the radio. His friends accepted the fact that I would hang around since I never wanted to be far from the Byers boy.

At one point Mike pulled me to the side, “Thank you for keeping him alive.”

“We kept each other alive.”

I never got to meet El. Which was a shame because I’d always wanted to meet a real life Jedi. But as time went on she became an afterthought. My mind stayed focussed on school and the next time I’d get to see Will again. I slowly managed to deal with my separation anxiety (as my therapist called it) and began doing my own thing most days, but I was still over at the Byers house as often as possible.

“Do you think they’ll stop?”

“Stop what?” I asked.

“The nightmares,” Will said, “Do you think they’ll stop?”

I sat the comic book I was reading down on my lap and sighed, “Maybe one day, for now I’m just so thankful that we’re alive they don’t bother me as much.”

“Can I say something?”

I looked in confusion, “You can tell me anything Will.”

“I think-” he coughed into his hand, “I think… I’m in love with you.”

I wasn’t surprised but was still left speechless. I scooted closer to him on the bed.

And we kissed.

After that, I knew there was gonna be no one else but him. No one else who will ever know what I went through, no one else who will know how I need to be held after I had a nightmare, no one else that can calm the racing thoughts I’ve had since November 6th, and no one else I would want to face the fear of something as new as relationships.

He was my safe haven.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #will byers #will byers imagine #will byers x reader #noah schnapp #noah schnapp imagine #noah schnapp x reader #carnationcreation #netflix

570 notes · View notes

jbsforever · 4 years ago

Text

for moments like these

A million years ago, I started a story inspired by another one of @spidey-art‘s wonderful pieces of work. It just occurred to me I never posted it, so here it is!

(some lines of dialogue near the end belong to her.)

- - -

Peter comes back to life in the fall of 2023, five years after his death. He's sixteen still, because the world kept moving without him, because he blinked himself to ashes and woke again, caught up with time and found himself the same in a universe so different and new. Welcome back, welcome home.

So he's sixteen and he's standing in the bathroom of the Stark cabin upstate, smudging blue paint across his cheek. The sink faucet runs blistering hot and Pepper is in the doorway watching him, her mouth curled in amusement. Peter meets her eyes in the reflection of the mirror as she announces, professional voice and all, “Princess Morgan would like you to know you're late to the royal tea party.”

Peter laughs. “Oops,” he says, and dips his hands under the water to wash them clean. His fingertips are stained colorful, strong with the smell of Morgan's fruit-scented markers. “My apologies to her highness.”

“She hasn't threatened to behead you yet,” Pepper says. “So I think you're okay. She seemed more interested in trying to make Tony wear a dress.”

What an image, Peter thinks, laughing, and asks, “I'm guessing she didn't succeed?”

Pepper smirks. “Not even close.”

“Worth a try,” Peter says, and smiles at Pepper in the mirror, soft, polite. “Please let the princess know I'll be down soon.”

Pepper doesn’t leave right away, just hovers there, eyeing the multi-colored clips in his hair, the bands Morgan twisted through his curls with all the haphazard grace of an over-excited four-year-old. She coughs into her fist like she's trying not to laugh. “As you wish, Sir Peter,” she says, and mutters to herself, on the way out, “Tony is gonna love this.”

Ah, Peter muses, drying his hands on a towel, there it is.

He gets it, the ridiculous of it all, the pure, raw irony of the blue star drawn on his cheek sat perfectly where a bruise blossomed just weeks ago, fresh and bright from the fight to save the universe. It’s stupid, but in a fond, comforting way. Peter can’t quite explain how it unravels something warm inside him, something that begs for normalcy, for the hours he can't get back in the years he wasn't around. Tony is always telling him this is what he needs – normalcy. Like he doesn’t need it too.

Downstairs, May and Pepper are drinking from wine glasses, and they watch Peter go by in his socked feet and his pink apron, their voices strained and wavering as they try to keep it together.

“Wow, Peter,” May says. “I've never seen you look better.”

“Tea party icon for sure,” Pepper adds. “Just look at that apron.”

“Can you give me fashion tips later? I have a date.”

Peter rolls his eyes.

Normalcy. A part of him has been searching for it since he was a child, since he lost his parents and longed for something to make sense again, those nights Ben sat by his bed, holding him as he cried, as he mourned, saying, “You just have to take it one day at a time.” Peter didn't understand what that meant. He hid away under his covers, in a room that wasn't his own, in a house that wasn't his own, and Ben waited patiently the whole time, peeled away the layers bit by bit and guided Peter to his feet to stand with him at his door, looking out into the hall, out into the world.

“I'm not asking you to run a marathon,” Ben said. “It takes time to be okay again.” And he shifted around to stand in front of Peter, on the other side of the threshold, some invisible line between them. “Just take this step. That's all.”

“And then what?” Peter whispered.

“And then we'll figure it out,” Ben said.

One piece at a time. Peter steps now through the front door of the cabin and onto the porch. At the edge of the yard near the lake, Tony and Morgan are waiting, and Peter joins them, sits in a chair too small at a table he can't fit his knees under. It's warm outside, warmer than normal for this time of year, but the world is different and Peter is different and they're all just taking steps the only way they know how.

“You're late,” Tony says, judging from beneath his sunglasses, a set of paintings on his face to rival Peter's and a black witch's hat on top his head. Peter snorts and accepts the teacup Morgan thrusts his way.

“I sent my apologies via the messenger,” Peter says.

“Don't let Pepper hear you call her that,” Tony replies, knocking his leg against the teddy bear in the seat next to his. He rights it again before it can fall over. “Actually, do. I want to see what happens,” he says, and pats the teddy bear's back, adding, “Sorry, Doug.”

Morgan fumbles with her teapot. “He says he'll forgive you if I can have your sandwich.”

“Square deal,” Tony agrees. “That's bribery, by the way.”

“Nuh-uh,” Morgan argues. “Mommy says bribery usually involves money.”

“I'm concerned why you two were discussing this,” Tony says, and shifts his gaze to Peter while Morgan shrugs and starts examining the inside of her teapot, her nose scrunching, expression concerned. Tony slants Peter a critical look.

“What are you supposed to be again?” he asks, at the exact moment Morgan yells, “Oh no, Daddy! The tea is poison!”

“I'm tea party icon, Mrs. Nesbit,” Peter says, swallowing a laugh. “Obviously.”

Tony hums a little and takes a sip of his apple juice.

Peter says, as serious as he can muster, “I don't know if you got the three-second-ago memo, but that's poison now.”

Tony takes another sip. “Shame.”

“I'll save you!” Morgan declares, jumping up and clutching the teapot tight. She races off toward the house, her red cape billowing behind her, her cowboy boots clunking across the wood of the porch.

In her wake, Tony asks, “Think she's coming back?”

“Probably,” Peter says, and so they both sit there, a silence settling between them, a quiet, private feeling they don't have to explain. Peter’s sure Tony gets it too, the ridiculousness of it all, how a month before this they stood side-by-side in a place of war and now they're sitting at a plastic table and everything is saved and everything is different and none of it quite makes sense. They don't have to say it.

Time is strange. It's a fickle thing, a monstrosity of grief and pain and love. But somewhere in it, you breathe – for moments like these, the warmth of the sun on your face, the feel of the grass beneath your feet. Peter doesn't have Ben to guide him anymore, but there are still people waiting on the other side of the threshold, ready to help him move mountains. One step at a time.

“Well,” Tony says, raising his cup, “To poisoned tea,” and Peter raises his cup too.

That's the thing about the world: through all the trials and tribulations, it learns to heal again.

“To poisoned tea,” Peter says, and he takes a breath.

He's learning to heal again too.

64 notes · View notes

fanfoolishness · 5 years ago

Text

Home Cooking (SUF)

(Fluff and angst in nearly equal measure, Connverse, 8800 words. Set between Little Graduation and Prickly Pair. Steven experiments with home cooking and decides to share his creation with the Maheswaran family, but he finds himself getting unexpectedly emotional. Many thanks to @honestlyhufflepuff and @followerofmercy for help bouncing ideas around, and @taikova, whose tweet about the sadness of Together Breakfast is briefly referenced here.)

*************

Steven shuffled aimlessly down the aisles of Beach City’s small organic grocery store, his shoulders nearly brushing against the wares more than once in the cramped space. Grocery shopping was one of the few errands that got him out of the house these days. He supposed he should be grateful for that, at least.

He paused in the freezer aisle, wrinkling his nose as he looked at the lean selection of vegetarian options. He was getting sick of the macaroni, even though it came in three flavors, and he hadn’t been impressed with the tortellini or the enchiladas. They always seemed to come out mealy and weird when heated.

He left the microwave dinners in the freezer case, wondering what else he should get. He’d already loaded up on a few packs of protein shakes. He wandered into the spice section and noted a hand-written recipe card under some Cajun seasonings. He looked it over for a moment, raising his eyebrows, then took a picture of it with his phone.

He nodded to himself. He pulled a few things into his basket, then wandered back into the loaded produce section, piling peppers, celery, onion, okra, and garlic on top of the spices.

“Why not?” he murmured, and headed to check out. The worst that could happen was that he might ruin it, and messing up dinner sounded a lot less intimidating than some of the other mistakes he could make.

***

It had been a long time since Steven had properly cooked anything, and he was starting to realize it.

He did mess up in a few ways. Nicked himself badly, his eyes burning as he tried to cut the onion. He kissed his hand to heal it and tossed the bloodied knife into the sink, reaching for another one. Luckily the onion remained unscathed.

He was fine with chopping the okra, celery and peppers, getting into a steady rhythm. He julienned them first, then diced the resulting strips until he had piles of colorful, slightly unevenly chopped vegetables. The garlic was tricky, but he was more careful this time, using a smaller knife. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he focused.

The roux almost stymied him. It took three attempts before he stopped burning the flour and creating a sludgy black mess in the bottom of the pan. He summoned his shield to fan away the smell out the front door, grumbling to himself.

But he’d come this far, hadn’t he? The fourth attempt with the roux was okay. He had been tempted to give up and order another cheese pizza, but he was determined now. What else was he going to do with the vegetables he’d bought if he gave up now? He stirred the roux carefully, brow furrowed in concentration as he added more ingredients and allowed them to simmer.

It smelled so good. So different, too, from the greasy smell of pizza, the clean scent of tea, the dull lifelessness of protein bars. He really had been eating just to eat, hadn’t he? The kitchen hadn’t smelled this good in months.

He half wanted to text the Gems and ask them to try it with him, but he felt a little uneasy at the idea. They weren’t talking much these days; Steven spent most of his time working on his plants in the greenhouse, now that he’d left Little Homeschool, and the Gems were working hard to pick up his slack. They mostly saw each other in vague elliptical orbits these days, a hello from one of them running into a goodbye from another. He wasn’t sure how to fit back in with them again. Maybe he was just going through a phase. He stirred the pot, taking care to keep the vegetables from burning.

Besides, food wasn’t exactly the Gems’ thing. Garnet only ate occasionally, mostly at Steven’s request. Pearl would share a cup of tea with him once a month or so, though he knew she still didn’t actually care for it; tea was just the least offensive thing she had discovered in the entire lexicon of human foods and drinks. Amethyst would readily eat both the food and the spoon as well, but he didn’t exactly trust her judgment when it came to fine dining. Yesterday he’d seen her eating dry ramen in the wrapper with chocolate and motor oil.

He thought about inviting Dad over for dinner. But lately things had been kind of weird with Dad, too. Steven knew he was still having a hard time adjusting to losing his hair and being attacked, but he wondered if there was more to it than that. He also kept trying to ask Steven questions that made him uncomfortable, questions about plans and the future and how he was doing, and Steven wasn’t sure he was up for it right now. He let out a long breath.

His phone buzzed. Hi you! What are you up to? Connie asked.

He mentally kicked himself. Of course, it was a Saturday. Connie actually had a little time to hang out some weekends. Why hadn’t he asked her to do something earlier? Too wrapped up in his own head, he supposed.

Trying out a new recipe. It’s hard. I burned it three times already, but I think this time is the winner. It smells awesome. He sent her a picture, having to try twice because steam from the dish clouded the first shot.

That looks amazing! Wish I could try it. Actually, I’m getting hungry just looking at it!

He gulped, fingers firing off a reply before he could stop himself. Want me to bring you some?

The phone buzzed again. That sounds like a great idea! But I told my parents I’d hang out with them tonight. Dad found a new strategy game and he thinks he can take out my mom, but he doesn’t know how badly she’s going to stomp him. My mom gets really competitive. It’s gonna be hilarious.

He considered. Well, there’s a huge pot of this vegetarian gumbo. I could make some rice, and we could all share?

Let me check!

He paced back and forth with his phone in his hand, hoping to feel a familiar vibration. He gave the gumbo a stir, then nodded. It looked like the recipe had said it would, three hours after starting it. He dipped in a tablespoon and brought out a steaming spoonful, blowing on it gently, then swallowed a bite.

Oh.

“That’s… that’s really good,” he croaked to the empty dining room. Tears pricked his eyes unexpectedly. He tasted garlic and pepper, heat and spice. He felt warmer than he had all week, a warmth that had nothing to do with his jacket or the temperature outside. It seemed to fill him up from his chest and belly outward. How was food this powerful?

His phone buzzed. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and read Connie’s reply, and his face spread into a smile.

They’d love that! Come by as soon as you can! Miss you <3

***

Steven rocked back and forth on his heels, standing on the Maheswarans’ doorstep, the food carefully nestled in his largest grocery bag. He could feel the heat radiating through the cloth bag against his leg. He rang the doorbell, his stomach flip-flopping as he did so.

She asked you to come, he reminded himself. Yet he was seized with a sudden fear that the Maheswarans were just being polite, that Connie must have talked them into pitying him, that they didn’t actually want him around --

The door opened. Doug Maheswaran grinned at him, looking comfortable and relaxed, no trace of pity in his warm eyes. “Young Universe! Good to see you. Wow, have you grown again? It’s been too long. Come in, come in.” Doug reached out and took the bag of food from Steven. “Thank you for bringing dinner, it smells delicious. Saves me from having to come up with something!”

Steven blinked, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer force of Doug’s cheeriness. “Hi, Mr. Maheswaran, you’re welcome! Um, well, it made a much bigger batch than I thought it would, so it seemed silly for me to try to eat it all on my own…”

“Doug, for heaven’s sake, let the poor boy get inside before you badger him to death,” Dr. Maheswaran called from the dining room. Steven peeked around Doug, hoping for a glimpse of-- “Connie! Steven’s here, come on down.”

A barrelling of footsteps down the stairs, and Connie burst into the living room, grinning all over. “Steven!” She wore a shirt he hadn’t seen before on her, a pretty purple one with little white polka dots. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face. He fought a burst of giddiness.

“Connie!”

Steven grinned back at her. Normally they’d go for a full-on, leap-in-the-air style hug upon seeing each other again, but he held out his hand for a stiff handshake instead, conscious of Doug still standing a few feet away and Priyanka leaning into the doorway between the living room and dining room.

Connie batted his outstretched hand aside and hugged him anyway. He closed his eyes, her hair soft against his cheek, and held her for just a moment before she pulled back. She was still taller than him by a good inch or two, but hadn’t grown since the last time he’d seen her. Good. It hadn’t been too long, then.

“It’s, um, good to see you,” he breathed.

“Likewise,” she said, blushing.

Doug coughed delicately. “All right, you two. Come on, let’s get dinner set up before it gets cold.”

Steven followed Doug toward the dining room, but couldn’t help but take the opportunity to grab Connie’s hand and squeeze it, for just a moment, before letting it fall. “You’re sure they’re okay hanging out with me?” he whispered to her.

She gave him a sweet smile. “Of course they are. My parents love you, Steven.”

He chuckled, his nerves catching up to him. “Are you sure? I’m surprised they don’t think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of being a bad influence on myself, Steven,” said Connie loftily. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She winked.

They entered the dining room, where the table was already set. He could see into their small kitchen through the propped open door, where Doug was already putting the rice and gumbo into serving dishes.

Priyanka pulled glasses down from the shelf. “It’s good to see you, Steven,” she said with a faint smile. “This is so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“Oh, uh, no thought at all, really,” blustered Steven. “I just was trying out something new and thought it would be nice to share it.”

“Were your father and the Gems busy?” Priyanka asked, opening the refrigerator. “Water, or iced tea?”

Steven glanced at Connie, who caught the look on his face. “The Gems are pretty busy these days, Mom,” said Connie. “And they don’t have to eat, remember? Iced tea for me, please.”

Doug laughed. “Oh, yes, I remember now. It was very nice of them to try that time we went out to dinner.” He set out the serving dishes on the table, faint wisps of steam still rising from the gumbo and rice.

“And Dad… doesn’t like Cajun food,” said Steven quickly. “Iced tea would be great.”

Priyanka gave Steven an odd look, but brought out their drinks without further questions. “Well, I’m excited to try this. Connie tells us you’re an excellent cook.”

“Aw Connie, come on.”

“You are!” said Connie, sitting down at the table. Steven sat beside her, and Doug and Priyanka took the seats across from them. “I mean, I know you don’t cook fancy things all the time, but when you do, they’re always really good.” Steven’s ears burned.

Doug doled out portions to each shallow bowl, setting out a scoop of white rice on each dish, followed by a full ladle of gumbo and a sprinkle of chopped green onions. The gumbo was rich and reddish, thick-bodied and clinging to the edge of the rice, glorious with the scents of pepper, onion, garlic. Steven peered into his bowl, hoping it tasted as good as he thought it had in his own kitchen.

Priyanka was the first to take a bite. She chewed thoughtfully, then smiled in satisfaction. “Steven, that’s quite good. This is your first time making this?” He nodded. “Well, color me impressed.”

Steven’s eyes widened. He knew exactly how much a compliment from Priyanka meant, and he blinked in astonishment.

Beside her, Doug dove in. “Steven, this is fantastic. This tastes just like something you’d have visiting the Crawfish State. Send me the recipe, all right?”

“Sure,” said Steven. “Really? You -- you guys like it?”

Connie licked her spoon. “That is insanely good. What did you put in it? It’s nice and spicy. Not exactly hot-spicy, but more of an earthiness? It’s delicious.”

“I just followed the recipe,” he said, shrugging and looking from face to face. They each kept eating, apparently honestly enjoying the food. He’d known he could cook, he supposed, but it was different sharing that with people besides himself. He felt a sudden stab of sympathy for Lars being nervous to share his ube roll cake, back before when Lars still worked at the Big Donut.

But Steven had no reason to be nervous, right? Connie was sitting beside him, relaxed and happily eating his cooking, and her parents both wore warm smiles. There was something strange and familiar both about this, a scene he’d seen a thousand times on television, a scene he’d tried to recreate at home more times than he could remember. He tried to imagine Dad and the Gems sitting around the table, each enjoying the meal, laughing together, conversation flowing as easily as breathing. It seemed both more and less possible than it ever had before. He watched the Maheswarans, eating and talking together, and he felt hungry in a way that had nothing to do with his food.

“Don’t you want some?” asked Connie, nudging him a little with her elbow.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah,” he said, carving out a bite of rice and gumbo. The whole reason he’d come here! He popped it into his mouth, heat and spice hitting his tongue, combining with the sharpness of scallion and the comfort of fluffy rice. He swallowed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Oh. Oh, no.

There it was again, that warmth, a comforting feeling that seemed less about the food than what the food meant. He blinked, tears starting at the corners of his eyes. Not here! Not in front of Connie’s parents! He stared furiously into the depths of his bowl, willing himself not to cry. A losing battle. A tear trickled down his cheek, falling into his food before he could wipe it away.

The conversation fell quiet, and the Maheswarans’ faces shifted from open and relaxed to suddenly worried.

“Steven? Are you all right?” asked Priyanka, her voice cautious. Soothing. He wondered if she saved that voice for her patients. He’d only rarely heard her use it with Connie.

“Is something wrong?” said Doug. “It is a little spicy --”

“No! I’m fine,” Steven muttered, setting down his spoon and rubbing at his face with his right hand. More tears. Was he bright red? He felt his cheeks flushing. “I -- might have put too much garlic in, that’s all --”

He felt Connie’s hand on his left hand, nestled in his lap beneath the table. She took it in her own and squeezed. He didn’t trust himself to look at her without crying even more obviously, and that was not what he had come here to do.

She fumbled, trying to come up with something. “Steven Universe, afraid of a little garlic?” The words were teasing, but the tone was concerned.

He sniffed, straightened up, and let go of her hand. “You’re right. I’m being silly.” He took a few more bites, the food as delicious as before, his eyes feeling puffy. He smiled through it. “So, Connie said you guys were going to play a new board game?”

“Oh! Yes,” said Doug. “Now, Priyanka always claims to be above such frivolous things as board games --”

“I do not,” she protested. “Games have a place and purpose, as long as your responsibilities are taken care of first. Besides, they’re a good way to hone critical thinking skills and --”

“And crush everybody,” Connie supplied. “Don’t pretend otherwise, Mom, you love being competitive. How were you surprised at all that I took up swordfighting?”

Priyanka arched an eyebrow. “Because swordfighting is an archaic form of battle and you were twelve. But I have to say, I have always admired your determination.”

“She’s the best, isn’t she?” said Steven, finishing another bite. The comforting warmth in his chest was more manageable now that the topic had changed, and he found himself enjoying what he’d made, something filling, something delicious, something real. The stinging in his eyes faded. “She’s always worked so hard. She’s amazing at swordfighting, and science, and literary analysis -- I mean, the conversations we’ve had about books --”

“Steven!” Connie hissed. “You flatterer!” She giggled and nudged him again.

“All right, all right,” he laughed.

“I know it’s rough on you two not being able to see each other as often,” said Doug sympathetically. He ladled a second helping into his scraped-clean bowl. “What are you up to these days, Steven? I heard you’ve been busy.” He dug into his food.

“Hm,” said Steven, pushing a chunk of pepper around in his dish. What am I up to? “The school for Homeworld Gems is going well, I guess. We had our first graduating class.” Don’t think about the dome.

He kept babbling, aware that the Maheswarans were looking at him. “It went really well? They were all pretty excited to head back out to space and move on.” The chunk of pepper slid around in circles, aided by his spoon. “I kinda stepped back from the school, though… I figured the other Gems were the best ones to be in charge. You know, they actually know what it’s like, trying to adjust to life on Earth without being ruled by anybody. I… don’t. At all.” He shrugged glumly. “But I hear they’re doing great without me.”

Priyanka looked at Steven, then glanced at Doug, giving him a slight nod. Doug finished his second portion, letting his spoon rest back in his bowl.

“That’s excellent news about the graduation,” said Priyanka, her voice measured. “You must be proud. But I know that for me it’s always bittersweet, seeing the interns match to their new residencies and move on. It does sound like you’ve helped a lot of people.” She got to her feet and collected her dishes. “Doug, would you please give me a hand with these?”

“Of course, dear,” said Doug, gathering up his own dishes and following her into the kitchen. As soon as the kitchen door closed behind them, Connie turned to Steven, taking his hands in hers.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he said, gazing into her dark eyes. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “That was bugging me.”

“It was very cute though. It made your ear look like an elf’s. Just the way it peeked through the hair.”

She smiled, but the action didn’t reach her eyes. “Are you okay?”

He looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Ugh. You noticed that, huh?”

“Of course I noticed you getting teary at the dinner table, and don’t tell me it was garlic. You love garlic. If you hadn’t realized, I know you pretty dang well, Universe.”

He squeezed her hands. “I -- I don’t know if you do,” he mumbled. “I don’t know if anyone does right now. I feel like I barely know me.” He gulped past the sudden lump in his throat.

Connie leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Isn’t that what being a teenager is all about?” They were quiet for a moment, their breathing matching.

“Are you okay, Connie?”

She spoke into the stillness, her words winding, wandering. Wounded. “I don’t know. Mostly? Not completely.” She shrugged.

“Come on. You can tell me.”

“I know, it’s… hard to get started, is all.” She held tight to his hands. “I swear, I feel crazy some days. It’s like I’m normal me, the same as I used to be. But then there’s this new Connie fighting to form inside me, trying to figure things out, and I don’t understand her. And in between the two of them, everything is just a mess. Sometimes I mouth off to my parents and get in trouble, sometimes I just want to cry for no reason, sometimes I just don’t care about school, sometimes I hate everything --” She squeezed his hands back, much harder than he had squeezed hers. “Mom says it’s pretty normal for my age, but if that’s the case, this is a stupid age.” Her eyes shone with sudden tears.

“That sounds really hard. And… kind of familiar, actually,” he said in a soft voice. “I didn’t know you were going through all that.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell you,” she whispered. “I knew you had your own stuff going on, and I didn’t want to pile on, especially when we don’t get to see each other as much as before. It’s been weeks!”

“I know,” said Steven miserably.

“But it’s all so frustrating, and I hate not feeling like the me I’ve always been. It makes everything more difficult. I have a harder time focusing on my classes, but I need to, because for the first time in my life they’re actually challenging and it’s weird. I got my first C on a test last quarter, did I tell you? And sometimes I try talking to friends at school like Jeff or Bri, and that helps with the human stuff, but they don’t understand how much I miss seeing you and the Gems all the time. Especially you. Because I do miss you, jam bud.”

“I’m sorry, I should have been around more -- I should have been here for you --”

“Don’t apologize, you dork,” said Connie, wiping her eyes. “It’s not like it’s your fault. Sometimes stuff sucks a little and that’s how it is.” She took a deep breath. “Now. Tell me what’s been going on with you. I went first because I knew you’d feel bad telling me unless I shared my stuff too.” She leaned back and stuck her tongue out at him.

“So rude,” said Steven, laughing despite himself. “I guess you do know me pretty well still. Um, as far as what’s going on with me, I -- I don’t know. It’s like, everyone’s growing up, you know? You’re getting ready for college prep stuff, and Lars and the Off Colors went back to space, and Lars, of all people, is… actually mature now. I think he finally has his head on straight. And it’s good, but it’s also confusing, because that was never the guy I knew. And he and Sadie never made it work, and they’re fine with it, and that’s fine, but it just feels weird.” He bit his lip. “Did you hear, the Suspects broke up --”

“No!” Connie gasped. “I heard about it, but I thought it was some sick prank --”

“Right? Me too! But they all have their own things going on now. Buck is going to medical school, Jenny’s got a little business going, Sadie has this new partner Shep and they have a totally different sound together… I don’t know.”

“Welcome to the club,” said Connie. “Why do things have to be so confusing now? I thought growing up was supposed to make things clearer. Instead it seems like everything just gets more complicated.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Steven mused. “I keep thinking, it seems like Beach City is doing fine without me, and so are the Gems, too. I hardly even see them now. They’re doing great with Little Homeschool, and I wonder did they even need me at all? What was I doing, trying to run a school? I’ve never even been to school! I was making it all up as I went!” He huffed in frustration, then continued.

“I guess I’m glad my schedule’s opening up now, but I haven’t figured out what I should do instead. I have time to sleep in but I keep waking up in the middle of the night. I could do music stuff, but I haven’t felt like it in forever. Lately I’ve been messing with plants, growing them the old-fashioned way, but that doesn’t really feel like anything.” His voice trailed off.

“And…” He hesitated. He hadn’t told her yet about the dome he accidentally created on graduation night, how he’d nearly hurt everyone. Or what happened in the Reef with Pearl and Volleyball. He still wasn’t sure how to say that out loud. To anyone.

“-- and I think my dad is still messed up after what happened with Bluebird,” he said instead. “He was starting to get more comfortable with Gem stuff, but now he’s not coming over as much. He doesn’t say it, but I think he’s kind of worried something might happen again. I am too, I guess. It honestly scared both of us.”

“I still can’t believe they went after your dad,” said Connie, a glimpse of her warrior side shining in her eyes. “I know you let them go, but if I’d been there with my sword --”

“There’d have been no stopping you,” he chuckled. Could they have stopped me? If I hadn’t stopped me?

“So what we do, then? I’m a mixed up bunch of stupid hormones and you don’t know what to do with your life or your family, and I guess that makes us both at least a little awkward,” said Connie.

“I don’t know,” said Steven honestly. But not knowing wasn’t as scary with Connie holding his hands. There was that much, at least, and that was a lot.

The kitchen door swung open and Steven and Connie quickly let go. He wasn’t sure if holding hands would be frowned upon by the Maheswarans, but didn’t want to find out, either. “All done with your food?” asked Priyanka. They nodded.

“That was truly delicious, Steven,” she said. “Why don’t you help me finish up, Connie, and Steven, you and Doug can set up the game. That is, if you’d like to stay for it. You’re certainly welcome to join us. From what I’ve seen perusing the rules manual, this game is much better balanced with four players than three.”

“Oh, please stay, Steven!” said Connie brightly. “Maybe we could form an alliance and actually take my mom out for once.”

Priyanka let out a sharp bark of a laugh as Doug took down a board game from the bookshelf behind the dining room table. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

“All right, I’ll give it a shot,” said Steven. “But no promises, Connie. Gemkind has abolished warfare, remember? Strategy’s not exactly my strong suit.”

“Well, check out the rules and see what we can swing. You’re going down, Mom,” said Connie. They retreated, and Steven joined Doug in the living room, where he already had the game out on the coffee table. Steven sat down beside him on the sofa.

“Have you played this one, Steven? It’s called Interstellar Showdown. It can be collaborative and cooperative… or intensely competitive!” Doug’s face glowed with anticipation. “Priyanka always wins no matter what we play, but I’ve been studying strategies for this game on the sly. Just between you and me, of course.” He opened the box and started rifling through the instructions. “Would you mind organizing the pieces for me?”

“Sure,” said Steven. He held up one of the small transport ships. “This is actually a pretty close version of some of the Gem ships I’ve seen,” he said. “Do you think it’s a coincidence?” He grouped the blue pieces across from him, where he guessed Connie would probably sit, and got to work separating the pink pieces from the plastic that held them in place.

“Hard to say. What’s that thing Connie was telling me about the other day -- convergent evolution? Sometimes nature makes things very similar to each other because it’s the best shape for the task, like bird wings and bat wings. I think that’s what she said. She’s always telling me about interesting things she’s learned in school,” said Doug.

“Me too,” said Steven. “I never knew our atmosphere was mostly nitrogen-based until Connie told me. Who knew, right?”

“Right! Nitrogen’s not the first thing you think of when you think ‘breathable.’ I always thought it was all oxygen, all the time.” Doug set down the instructions and picked up a deck, tearing off the plastic wrapper. He shuffled the cards, doing both the regular shuffling as well as the bridge where the cards fanned upward. Steven watched, slightly jealous. He’d never figured out how to shuffle like that.

“How do you do the bridge thing?” he asked Doug.

“Bridge thing?” Doug looked down at his hands. “Oh, with the cards. It’s not too hard. You basically do the same shuffling action, but in reverse. Give it a shot.” He handed the cards to Steven.

“See, I can do the regular shuffling just fine --” He demonstrated. “But then this always happens.” The cards limply collapsed between his hands, refusing to arc. “Splat.”

“Try again,” said Doug, pulling out another deck of cards from the box and shuffling them downward. Slowly he arced them upward, the cards bending into perfect semicircles. Steven watched his hands closely.

“Okay, let’s see --” Down shuffle. He fanned his fingers outward, trying to urge the cards to go up instead of sideways. They splatted again, and he frowned, mouth twisting. “I can never get it,” he muttered.

“It’s hard to explain. I think I had to keep practicing. And try to change the shape of your hands as you lift the cards. That’s key,” said Doug. He shuffled again.

Steven tried it three more times, getting more irritated each time. The third time the cards fluttered away from him, making a mess and knocking over the pile of pink spaceships. A few of them skittered onto the floor and Steven flushed, suddenly embarrassed at his own irritation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he said hastily, picking the pieces back up.

“Hey, it’s fine,” said Doug, picking up a ship he’d missed under the couch. “No big deal if the bridge doesn’t work out for you. But if you want to keep trying, we can.”

Steven took a deep breath. “Okay.” He tried again, this time flaring out his fingers more widely, driving his thumbs downward as he did. A few of the cards finally arced, weakly, and he looked in surprise at his own hands.

“See, you’ve got this!” Doug showed him again, and Steven studied how his fingers curled beneath the cards on the upswing, the angles in relation to the table, how the thumbs moved.

Steven tried again, and this time the arc was actually visible, if not as neat as Doug’s. “Hey! I’m doing it!”

Doug set his cards down, smiling. “You just needed a little help. It’s tricky!” He clapped Steven on the shoulder, and Steven shuffled the cards once, twice, a third time, smiling. Doug switched decks with Steven, and Steven shuffled the cards, the action getting smoother with each attempt.

“Thanks, Mr. Maheswaran.”

“No problem.” They went back to punching out spaceship pieces from their plastic frames. Doug took the white pieces, and Steven took the pink ones, leaving yellow for Priyanka.

Doug cleared his throat. “I’m sure you already know this, Steven, but in general, there’s never anything wrong with asking for help.”

Steven’s hands stilled on the plastic spaceships. “With… shuffling?”

“With anything.” Doug kept setting out the yellow plastic pieces, one at a time, his hands steady and sure. “No one knows how to get everything right on the first try. Sometimes it’s shuffling cards. Sometimes it’s stuff at home, too.”

Steven’s cheeks flared. “It -- it was just too much garlic --” he faltered. “I wasn’t --”

“Hey, hey, I’m not trying to put you on the spot, Steven,” said Doug, turning a little to face him directly. He looked worried, but kind. “But you’re important to Connie. And you’re important to Priyanka and me, too.” He reached out again, and this time instead of a quick clap, his hand rested on Steven’s shoulder. “If there are things that are worrying you, I know you already have a lot of people in your life you can turn to. But when I was your age, sometimes the people closest to me were exactly the ones I didn’t feel like I could talk to. And if you’re ever in a place like that, I want you to know you can talk to me and Priyanka, even if you feel like you can’t talk to Connie or your family.”

Steven looked into his face, then sniffed, reaching up to rub his eyes. Part of him wasn’t sure what he could possibly say to Mr. Maheswaran. But part of him felt like he was thawing, a cold layer of fear slowly breaking up and dissolving in parts. Not completely. Still, though, the feeling was a good one.

“Thank you, Mr. Maheswaran. I -- maybe I will.” He let out a long breath. “Though we should probably finish setting up the game.” But impulsively he leaned forward, and Doug’s hand on his shoulder became a hug, brief and a little clumsy but warming all the same.

“Sounds like a plan, kid,” said Doug, smiling. His own eyes looked a little watery, or was that a trick of the light? “Come on, ladies,” Doug called. “Are we going to defeat you, or what?”

***

They did not, in fact, defeat Priyanka. Though it was very, very close. Steven’s Pacifist aliens did form a powerful alliance with Connie’s Warrior race, and Doug’s strategic use of the Zombie aliens constantly stymied them. But in the end Priyanka’s Virus aliens stood victorious with their colonies towering above the others’, with most of the other players’ ships lost to the warp.

Priyanka was a restrained, if slightly smug, victor. “Well,” she said, smiling faintly at her collection of yellow colonies. “That was certainly tricky.”

“Modest as always,” Doug teased, reaching out to squeeze her hand briefly. “Ahhh, one of these days I’ll get the perfect strategy together. Maybe.” He let out a long sigh. “I thought for sure that last gambit was going to work….”

“My dad, the eternal optimist,” said Connie. “What’d you think, Steven? It ended up being a very Gem-like game, didn’t it?”

“Uncannily so,” said Steven. He was glad he’d managed to draw the Pacifist card at the beginning of the game and could worry more about helping Connie win. Even in board game form with painted on planets, the idea of colonization couldn’t help but creep him out a little.

Despite that, though, it’d been fun to see Connie with her brow furrowed in concentration, poring over the board to come up with a strategy. He’d enjoyed Priyanka complimenting him on a particularly clever bit of negotiation, and it had been fun to cheer Doug on with Connie for the final encounter. “It’d be cool to play again as some of these other alien species. They all seem to have a special power that breaks the rules just a little bit. It’s a neat game.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a rematch another time,” said Priyanka. She checked her watch. “But it’s nearly nine o’clock. Won’t your family be getting worried, Steven? Beach City’s not exactly down the block.”

Steven met Connie’s eyes. He knew he’d probably be unable to convince the Maheswarans that it was fine to stay longer, that the Gems hadn’t had the concept of “bedtime” for him in years. “I hadn’t realized it was getting so late,” said Steven. “I hope I didn’t intrude on your family time --”

“Not in the slightest,” said Priyanka. “It’s been a pleasure to have you, Steven. We should do this more often.”

“Besides, you were kind enough to bring over a delicious dinner!” said Doug. “Don’t forget to send Connie that recipe for me.”

Connie reached out and poked him in the side. “If you don’t remember, he will hound me forever about it,” she warned. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Steven?”

“Of course not,” he laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll send it as soon as I get home.”

“Speaking of dinner, there was a little bit left. Let me go package it up for you,” said Doug. “There’s plenty left for a few more servings.”

Doug and Connie both stood from their seats, and Steven gave Connie a questioning look. “I’m just going to the restroom,” she said. Steven nodded, and realized he was now alone with Priyanka.

For a moment they didn’t speak, looking at each other from across the game board. Steven wondered about Doug and Connie both excusing themselves, remembering how long Connie’s parents had taken in the kitchen after dinner. After he’d cried. His cheeks burned as he put the pieces together.

He cleared his throat. “Dr. Maheswaran, can I ask you something?”

She blinked, looking as if she had been lost in thought. “Of course, Steven.”

He looked down at his hands, fingers twisting together. “Did you and Mr. Maheswaran plan on… giving me a talk?”

“What do you --”

“Mr. Maheswaran talked with me earlier. He told me I could always talk to you both.” Steven looked pointedly at his shoes. “That was planned, wasn’t it? After I got weird at dinner?”

Priyanka sighed, then rested her elbows on her lap, leaning towards him. “I suppose I can speak plainly, then. Yes. We saw that something seemed to be bothering you, and we didn’t want to leave it unremarked upon in case you needed to reach out.”

Steven blinked in surprise. He’d fully expected her to deny the whole thing. It was what the Gems would have done.

“Oh! You -- I thought so.”

Priyanka smiled ruefully. “You’re nearly an adult, Steven. I’m not too surprised you realized. I hope you don’t think that we’re trying to patronize you.”

Steven stopped twisting his hands and shoved them in his pocket instead, willing them to stay still. His leg betrayed him by starting up a quiet jitter. “No, I don’t think that,” he said in a rush. “At least, not exactly.” His leg stilled a little, remembering Doug’s quick hug, the way he’d felt like he was thawing. “It was… really nice, what he said.”

She nodded. “That’s why I asked Doug to talk to you, instead of talking to you myself. He’s far more approachable than I am. I have been told I can be… intimidating.”

Despite himself, Steven could feel a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “I was pretty scared of you at first,” he admitted. “I think Connie was too.”

Priyanka’s gaze softened. “I can be very stern. Subtlety isn’t one of my strong suits, Steven. That’s why I wasn’t going to belabor the point by trying to corner you, if that’s what you suspected is happening right now.”

Steven looked anywhere but at her face. “Maybe…”

She chuckled. “No. I wasn’t planning on pulling you aside myself, and Doug really did just decide to go box up the food. And Connie wasn’t in on it, if you’re worried about that. This was solely a parental decision.”

Steven relaxed, a fear he hadn’t even fully articulated slipping away. “Oh. That’s, um, good to know. Thank you.”

“However, since you’ve brought it up… would you mind if I shared my thoughts?”

He thought for a moment. He was, quite honestly, still a little afraid of her. But he liked that she had asked. “I’d like to hear them,” he said cautiously.

Priyanka straightened back up, leaning against the back of the sofa and looking thoughtful. “I worry about you both,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “To be frank, this is a terrible age. Every problem is magnified, large or small. Human brains struggle so much at this age to mature, to grow, to form identity. I wouldn’t go through it again if you paid me.” She let out a short, sharp laugh before continuing, still keeping her gaze fixed above him.

“I know Connie is having a hard time of her own, and sometimes she lets us in, but sometimes she doesn’t. It’s normal, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult.” She sighed. “And I know she worries about you. She’s always wanted to fight by your side, but soldiers often struggle after their war ends. I know that neither of you was a soldier in the traditional sense, but still… as I said, I worry.”

“Was I a soldier? I don’t know.” He’d never thought of himself like that. Yet he knew battle, didn’t he? Didn’t he know sacrifice?

“Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know all the details. But I know it was a war.”

“Yes. It was.” He swallowed. “There are things that happened to me I still haven’t told anyone,” he said, so softly that he could barely hear his own voice. He followed her lead and gazed up at the ceiling, its plain eggshell surface slipping and blurring in his vision. “And some things that only Connie knows. Terrible things.”

A moment’s pause. “I... wondered.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say them out loud. They’d be real, then, wouldn’t they? The war is over. Why do I still think about old scars?” The tears started again, but if he didn’t look at Priyanka, he could pretend they weren’t happening. He kept staring at the ceiling. “And then there’s new things. I’m not human. Not fully. And sometimes things happen that I don’t understand -- that I can’t control --” He sucked in a breath, suddenly remembering where he was. He snapped his head back down and tore his gaze from the ceiling. “No. I shouldn’t --”

Across the table, Priyanka’s eyes looked red. She folded her hands in her lap. “What if you did talk about it?”

Steven stared at her, his cheeks damp, his nose running. “I can’t. I -- I’ve already said more than I should. I’m sorry.”

Priyanka nodded. “All right. You don’t have to speak about it to me. Or to Doug. Or even Connie. But I would ask you… please think about sharing with someone. When you’re ready.”

Steven nodded blearily. “I’ll… think about it.”

She stood up, bringing him a tissue from the box on the end table and taking one for herself. She dabbed at her eyes. He got to his feet, feeling uncomfortable sitting while she stood. He wiped his face, then balled up the tissue and stuffed it into his pocket.

“You aren’t alone, Steven,” she said, standing beside him with her arms crossed, looking through the window to the darkened street outside. “Even if it must feel that way sometimes.”

“It does,” he mumbled beside her. “And I feel stupid for even thinking that, when you’ve both been so kind, when I have Connie, and my family, and --”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult. Sometimes, it makes it even harder,” she said, and the fact that she didn’t tell him it was fine, or that he was going to be okay, made his chest ache. He was more grateful to her for it than words could convey.

“Um… Dr. Maheswaran,” he said awkwardly. “I don’t, um, I don’t know if you’re a hugger, but --”

Before he’d finished his sentence, she put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him to her. He rested his head against her shoulder, closing his eyes, trembling only a little.

“Usually, I’m not,” she said, and he could tell by her voice she was smiling. “But I make exceptions for those I care about.” She embraced him a moment longer, then let go. He found the balled up tissue in his pocket and used it again.

“Thanks, Dr. Maheswaran,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“You’re very welcome, Steven.”

“Uh… what are you guys up to?” asked Connie uncertainly from the entrance to the dining room.

“It’s a clear night, and Steven was pointing out the regions of some of the nearer Gem outposts,” Priyanka answered without hesitation. “I was curious about some of the missions he’s been on. Once things settle down with school, hopefully you’ll both be able to explore further.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Connie, though she still looked suspicious.

Doug appeared beside her, holding the bag of Steven’s food. “Thanks again for sharing with us,” he said. “Any time you want to come by and bring us dinner, you won’t catch me saying no.”

“Nor I,” said Priyanka. She nodded toward the front door. “If you two want a few minutes to say goodbye outside, take your time.”

“Just not too much of it,” Doug joked. He handed the bag to Steven, and gave him a warm smile. “We’re up for a rematch any time though, Steven. Take care.”

“Drive safely,” said Priyanka, smiling as well. “We’ll see you in a few moments, Connie. Goodbye, Steven.”

Steven followed Connie through the front door and onto the doorstep, where she promptly sat down, patting the step beside her. He closed the door and gratefully joined her, setting the food down between his feet.

“Um, what was that?” Connie asked.

“What was what?” said Steven, trying to keep his voice casual. Not that that would work on Connie.

“You and my mom talking.” Connie waved a hand at the night sky, which was covered in clouds. “I know she didn’t develop a sudden interest in astronomy.”

Steven buried his face in his hands, the ups and downs of the evening catching up to him. He took a few breaths before he lowered his hands and looked at her with a watery smile. “They worry. About you. About me.”

“About us? Being together?”

“Not like that. I think they’re fine with that. I do think they like me,” he admitted. “But they know we’re not exactly fine.”

“Mm.” Connie leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. “I thought they might try some kind of concerned talk after I realized how long they were talking in the kitchen. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to warn you, but they came back too soon. That’s where they go to be sneaky. ‘Oh, we were just doing the dishes, Connie!’ And then the next thing you know it’s ‘we’re not mad, we’re just disappointed.�� They didn’t do that, did they?”

“No, no. They were kind. Really kind. Your mom… She’s actually a big softy, isn’t she? I never knew that before.” He reached up, putting his arm around her shoulders. He’d never stop marveling at how right she felt beside him.

Connie laughed, the sound sweet and silvery. “It took me a long time to realize that’s why she’s so scary sometimes. She doesn’t want anyone to know. Whereas Dad -- he’s just out there with it. He doesn’t care who sees.”

“Sorry if I made dinner weird.” He tried to think of a way to explain how he had felt. “I just… did I ever tell you about Together Breakfast? That was before I knew you.”

“You mean Garnet’s wedding cake that we didn’t get to eat? I figured there had to be a story behind it.”

“Yeah, we had one then, but there was an original Together Breakfast. There was one day I was trying to get the Gems to hang out with me. I was twelve, I think. I made this nasty breakfast -- waffles covered in chocolate and whipped cream and popcorn -- and I wanted them to share it with me so much. But they were all hiding in the Temple, and then Amethyst tried to eat the whole thing, and Pearl and Garnet were too busy.... Anyway, a Gem monster got out and it turned the breakfast into this hideous horrible whipped cream nightmare. We defeated it and went out for pizza in the end.”

“That sounds messed up, but also, completely normal for you.”

“Right?” he laughed. “But I thought about it a while back. The messed up part wasn’t the monster.” This was hard to say. Harder than he’d thought it would be. “Why’d I have to beg them to hang out with me? I was twelve.”

“Oh, Steven.” She was quiet. “They really are aliens, aren’t they? But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“I saw you and your parents sitting around the table, happy and normal and enjoying something I’d made -- something good, something I was proud of -- and I don’t know.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I really enjoyed dinner with all of you tonight. But it was hard, too.”

“I didn’t know all this stuff was going on with you,” said Connie.

“I didn’t know about your stuff, either,” he reminded her gently.

She nuzzled against him, her face soft against the crook of his neck. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll talk to you if you talk to me. Deal?”

“That seems fair,” he said, though his mind raced with thoughts of pink flashes and white-hot rage. He forced the thoughts away, stuffing them down. He’d talk to her about more things. No need to bring up everything. There were still some things he had to figure out on his own.

“I don’t know if I can see you every week,” said Connie sadly. “Not until some of my classes start dying down. But we should do a video chat every week for sure. We’ve been bad at that lately.”

“Agreed,” said Steven. He’d been the one to say he was too busy for the past three or four calls. He swallowed his guilt and kissed her forehead again. “I missed you, Connie.”

“I missed you too, Steven.”

A gentle knock at the door. Connie let out a long sigh. “Ahh, that’s my cue. I could sit here with you forever, you know. But I guess they have a point. I’m freezing.”

He laughed, holding her close. “I’d better warm you up before you go.” A quick kiss, then a longer one, slower, softer. They broke apart, blushing furiously.

“Now they’re really going to give me a concerned talk,” Connie giggled. “‘Why are you so flushed, young lady?’”

“Because it’s cold outside!” said Steven, his eyes wide in the picture of innocence. They broke down laughing almost immediately.

She got to her feet and crossed her arms. “Go on, you. Before I do get in trouble.” She beamed at him.

“Oh, fine,” said Steven, standing up and grabbing the bag of food. He grinned as she kissed the tip of his nose. “But… call me tomorrow?”

“I will. And don’t forget to text me that recipe!” She blew him a final kiss as she opened the front door.

“Bye, Connie! Bye, Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran!” Steven called. He turned and headed back to the Dondai, gently swinging the bag in his hand until he remembered it held his food.

He drove back home, the car still pleasantly full of the smell of spices and peppers. This time of night there was an utter lack of traffic on the road. The drive home passed quickly, smooth and dreamlike in the cloudy dark.

The Dondai’s wheels drove over the gritty sand, coming to a stop just below the path up to his house. He sat in the car for a moment, considering, then pulled out his phone.

First he sent a text to Connie. Made it home, safe and sound. Here’s the recipe, he sent. He included a few photos and perhaps an overabundance of heart emojis.

Then he hit a familiar phone number and raised the phone to his ear. After three rings, it picked up. “Steven?” asked Greg. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh! Sorry, Dad. I forgot how late it was. Everything’s fine. I was just wondering… have you had anything for dinner yet?”

“No, I was just snacking around…”

Steven smiled, looking at the bag in his passenger seat. “Want to come over and watch a movie? I made dinner.”

Greg’s voice through the phone was surprised, but glad. “I’d love to, son. I’ll be over in five. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

He ended the call and lowered his hand. He let out a long breath, then unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his dinner. He stepped out into the sand, heading up the path home, and he left behind the sound of waves upon the shore.

*****************************************

(Note: I chose gumbo based upon the meal I had at a soul food restaurant for my 33rd birthday, five days after my brother died. My family and my friends gathered there, and it was the first food we’d had all week that I could actually *taste.* It made me feel alive again. It made me feel human. And I thought Steven needed that too.

And yes, this is a real board game. It’s called Cosmic Encounter in our universe and it’s delightful.)

#steven universe #steven universe future #suf #connverse #connie maheswaran #priyanka maheswaran #doug maheswaran #the maheswarans #fanfoolishness' steven universe fic

198 notes · View notes

multipleservicelisting · 4 years ago

Text

Overwhelmed, More States Turn to National Guard for Vaccine Help

LANDOVER, Md. — As tens of thousands of his National Guard colleagues descended on the nation’s capital to ensure the peaceful transfer of presidential power, 10 miles up the road, Emmanuel Alfaro was doing what he viewed as the pinnacle of his career in the Guard: administering Covid-19 vaccines to his fellow citizens.

“It’s a highlight, being able to come out and help the public out,” said Mr. Alfaro, a senior airman and medic with the 175th Air National Guard, whose normal duties are helping at health care centers in Maryland.

As the pandemic continues to rage nationwide and a vaccine program to control it struggles, governors are increasingly turning to the National Guard to help expedite the process. At least 16 states and territories are using Guard members to give shots, drawing on doctors, nurses, medics and others skilled in injections.

Many more states are using thousands more Guard personnel for logistical tasks, like putting together vaccine kits and moving them around, logging in patients and controlling lines at state vaccination sites. In West Virginia, for example, about 100 Guard troops are assisting with distribution across the state.

“We are a logistical operation here,” said Maj. Holli Nelson, a spokeswoman for the Guard there. “That is what the military does best.”

The growing presence of the Guard is a stark reminder that even as the country reels from the attack on the Capitol last week, a pandemic continues to roil all the states, which are struggling to expedite a complex vaccine program with no modern precedent.

Since January of last year, 1 in 14 people who live in the United States have been infected with the coronavirus, and at least 1 in 862 have died. States like California and Arizona, with some of the highest number of infections in the nation, are contending with exhaustion among health care workers and inundations across their medical centers.

“States are naturally looking at alternative ways to get out the limited supply of vaccines,” said Claire Hannan, the executive director of the Association of Immunization Managers. “We are seeing more and more states using the National Guard and thinking bigger.”

In Maryland, Gov. Larry Hogan originally planned to disseminate vaccines largely through private health care providers and drugstore chains, setting up state-run health care clinics later. Last week, realizing that the private sector was unable to ramp up operations as quickly as he had hoped, Mr. Hogan turned to 140 Maryland National Guard members to help with pop-up sites in two counties and will be adding six more next week to help county and state health officials.

States have struggled to get the roughly 30 million doses of vaccines released by the Trump administration to Americans. The desire for vaccines has greatly outstripped supply, even as some Americans who qualified for an early dose have rejected them, causing the federal government and states to adjust their guidelines on who can receive them first.

Covid-19 Vaccines ›

Answers to Your Vaccine Questions

If I live in the U.S., when can I get the vaccine?

While the exact order of vaccine recipients may vary by state, most will likely put medical workers and residents of long-term care facilities first. If you want to understand how this decision is getting made, this article will help.

When can I return to normal life after being vaccinated?

Life will return to normal only when society as a whole gains enough protection against the coronavirus. Once countries authorize a vaccine, they’ll only be able to vaccinate a few percent of their citizens at most in the first couple months. The unvaccinated majority will still remain vulnerable to getting infected. A growing number of coronavirus vaccines are showing robust protection against becoming sick. But it’s also possible for people to spread the virus without even knowing they’re infected because they experience only mild symptoms or none at all. Scientists don’t yet know if the vaccines also block the transmission of the coronavirus. So for the time being, even vaccinated people will need to wear masks, avoid indoor crowds, and so on. Once enough people get vaccinated, it will become very difficult for the coronavirus to find vulnerable people to infect. Depending on how quickly we as a society achieve that goal, life might start approaching something like normal by the fall 2021.

If I’ve been vaccinated, do I still need to wear a mask?

Yes, but not forever. The two vaccines that will potentially get authorized this month clearly protect people from getting sick with Covid-19. But the clinical trials that delivered these results were not designed to determine whether vaccinated people could still spread the coronavirus without developing symptoms. That remains a possibility. We know that people who are naturally infected by the coronavirus can spread it while they’re not experiencing any cough or other symptoms. Researchers will be intensely studying this question as the vaccines roll out. In the meantime, even vaccinated people will need to think of themselves as possible spreaders.

Will it hurt? What are the side effects?

The Pfizer and BioNTech vaccine is delivered as a shot in the arm, like other typical vaccines. The injection won’t be any different from ones you’ve gotten before. Tens of thousands of people have already received the vaccines, and none of them have reported any serious health problems. But some of them have felt short-lived discomfort, including aches and flu-like symptoms that typically last a day. It’s possible that people may need to plan to take a day off work or school after the second shot. While these experiences aren’t pleasant, they are a good sign: they are the result of your own immune system encountering the vaccine and mounting a potent response that will provide long-lasting immunity.

Will mRNA vaccines change my genes?

No. The vaccines from Moderna and Pfizer use a genetic molecule to prime the immune system. That molecule, known as mRNA, is eventually destroyed by the body. The mRNA is packaged in an oily bubble that can fuse to a cell, allowing the molecule to slip in. The cell uses the mRNA to make proteins from the coronavirus, which can stimulate the immune system. At any moment, each of our cells may contain hundreds of thousands of mRNA molecules, which they produce in order to make proteins of their own. Once those proteins are made, our cells then shred the mRNA with special enzymes. The mRNA molecules our cells make can only survive a matter of minutes. The mRNA in vaccines is engineered to withstand the cell’s enzymes a bit longer, so that the cells can make extra virus proteins and prompt a stronger immune response. But the mRNA can only last for a few days at most before they are destroyed.

Registration websites have crashed. Endless waits on phone lines have frustrated people seeking appointments or simple information. And some private health care centers have been unable to work through bureaucracies to get doses to the right people, at times wasting opened vaccines or giving them to people far down the priority list. In Florida, older residents camped on lawn chairs outside centers waiting for their shots.

State health department officials say they are happy to have the Guard’s ability to put up tents in 15 minutes and turn to a bevy of skilled personnel to quickly scale up and change direction when steps like registration are bogged down.

“It was a no-brainer for us,” said C.J. Karamargin, a spokesman for Gov. Doug Ducey of Arizona, a state that deployed the Guard immediately after receiving its vaccine supply in December. “This crisis has seen the largest mobilization of the Arizona Guard since World War II.”

The Guard was called on to assist with personal protective equipment and testing, and “they hit it out of the park,” Mr. Karamargin said.

The federal government currently will reimburse states — many of them struggling from large drops in tax revenues — for only 75 percent of their National Guard costs associated with coronavirus relief.

At one point, the Trump administration gave 100 percent reimbursements to Florida and Texas, and governments from both parties say they intend to press the Biden administration to make whole on this front.

“North Carolina has been clear we would like to get to 100 percent reimbursement,” said Sadie Weiner a spokeswoman for Gov. Roy Cooper. On Monday, the state’s first teams of 75 Guard personnel in two cities began to “stick, plunge and pull,” said Lt. Col. Matt DeVivo, a spokesman for the Guard. They expect to greatly increase their sites over the next few weeks.

Some heath care experts were skeptical that the Guard could keep up when vaccine allotments became larger.

“All hands on deck are important,” said Dr. Georges C. Benjamin, the executive director of the American Public Health Association. “But I think you have to be realistic, though, about the Guard’s ability. We have to be careful that we are not expecting them to bring more medical assets than they can to the table. Guard members are working in hospitals and pharmacies already detailed to provide services for Covid.”

Guard officials say they have the capacity to manage the need.

While the Defense Department has frequently boasted about its role in Operation Warp Speed, the federal vaccine effort, Pentagon officials have said that active-duty troops would not be administering shots.

Further, many officials are mindful of a history of the United States conducting unethical medical experiments on Black Americans and general distrust of government. Having uniformed Guard troops give shots was something that could require extra assurances, officials said.

“I do think that is something we really need to pay attention to,” said Ms. Hannan of the Association of Immunization Managers. “I don’t know if we understand all the questions around that. But the trust and confidence in the vaccine is in a different place than it was in July and August, when there were strong concerns about the military delivering the vaccine.”

This week, uniformed Guard troops wove among state and local health officials around the sporting center in Landover, Md., to get to about a dozen white tents to give residents — largely emergency medical workers — their shots.

Taylor Brown, an official with the Office of Emergency Management in Prince George’s County, Md., looked on with approval; the county has been one of the hardest hit in the state.

“Thank goodness they are here,” she said. “The more the merrier, really.”

Multiple Service Listing for Business Owners | Tools to Grow Your Local Business

www.MultipleServiceListing.com

from Multiple Service Listing https://ift.tt/2XG9qFc

#multiple #service #listing #news #local #business #ads #near #me

0 notes

bexstlyben · 7 years ago

Text

@strawberryprincessofdarkness answered your ask

Mal had been sitting on the balcony enjoying dinner with Ben when the barrier broke. The villains had plotted and schemed until they finally found a way to free themselves from Fairy Godmother’s magic, no doubt helped by Uma who’s magic had only grown stronger since she’d escaped. The quiet majesty of the evening shattered, Mal had gone to rally her friends while Ben attempted to organize a plan of attack with the council.

The first wave of villains had divided them, Ben and the royals stuck on one side while Mal and her friends were on the other. Maleficent’s wrath was swift and terrible, Mal grabbed those she could, retreating to the mines Doug knew like the back of his hand. The stone labyrinth making it impossible for the villains to track them further.

Days passed, turning to weeks, until a commotion was heard coming from one of the other tunnels. Turning the corner, prepared to collapse the roof down on top of the villains Mal froze, her green eyes fixed on the dirty figure leading the royals. “B-…Ben?” She dared not believe any further in case it was her mind playing tricks on her.

Ben coughed around the mine dust, tucking his face down as he struggled over rocks. It had been a long time since he studied the maps of the mine- which made it all so much worse in his head. A wrong turn here or there, he’d be stuck, trapped in confusion until the thirst got to him. He just couldn’t stay in the castle any longer. Since the Villains invaded, he had done his best to help his father and the council, until the doors crashed open and all he saw was Maleficent.

He wasn’t sure where his mother was, or Lumière and Mrs. Potts. The cuts on his arms from the shackles were starting to heal over, as he managed to yank his way past Flotsam and Jetsam, and headed out to find anyone. He heard the rumors of people down in the mines, and it was his only option now, with Cogsworth leading the way. Ben coughed again, seeing a hit of coal dust blowing off his now gray sleeve, distracted only by the lilting voice calling his attention.

“Mal?” He stared through the dark shadows, twisting his head around as Cogsworth gripped his elbow in a bruising, tight hold. “Mal?”

#strawberryprincessofdarkness

44 notes · View notes

oneinathousand · 4 years ago

Text

Oh, I know that! It was just an exaggeration on my part. That’s why, for example, so many people who have tried to replicate the Monty Python sense of humor (*COUGH-COUGH-Doug Walker-COUGH-COUGH*) have totally failed because they only focus on the weird, surreal side of it, because they don’t realize that a lot of the time their humor wasn’t random, it was actually based on history, language, philosophy, etc. and like it or not it took a tremendous amount of work to accomplish.

Or take Mr. Bean. He’s just a dumb character that anyone with enough physicality can recreate, right? Well, no, because the scenarios created in that show require precise planning and timing to pull off, like when he’s getting dressed while driving or when he’s driving the car from on the roof of it. There’s a method to the madness.

There is a discussion to be had about how the best comedians, regardless of whatever educational level they had, have developed strong observational skills that allow their humor to ring true, even if it seems random or thoughtless on the surface.

British comedians be like “I’m gonna spend years and years at prestigious schools getting my degree in stuff like Medicine, Law, Medieval History, Engineering, getting an education a lot of people would love to have, that doesn’t have anything to do with acting, maybe even get a Ph.D/masters, and then I’m gonna say “nah” and go in an entirely different field that uses absolutely none of the things my major is for, and, like, maybe I’ll do stuff relating to my degree on the side?”

#comedy #british comedy #monty python #rowan atkinson #hugh laurie #stephen fry

107 notes · View notes

sweet-christabel · 8 years ago

Text

A Trusted Friend In Science

FF.net: (x) AO3: (x)

Chapter Thirty-Five - 2035. Return.

Doug barely had time to yell before Chell disappeared in a flash of excruciatingly bright light. He squeezed his eyes shut with a brief exclamation of pain. Barely a second later, the room dimmed beyond his eyelids, but it took a moment for his vision to return to normal. The ship was gone, along with the gangplank and the two workbenches that had been closest to it. Chell was gone too.

He felt numb. Knees giving out, he sank down, lowering Wheatley to the floor. His mind raced as he tried to process everything that had happened. It had happened far too fast, had stolen his breath. She was gone.

She was gone, and he had no idea what to do.

He felt a sudden urge for the companion cube’s silent support, but he’d left it in the back of Gordon’s truck. He was lost. All his plans for the future had involved her in some way. How was he supposed to go on alone?

But then there was a cough.

He looked up with wide eyes, acute hope elbowing its way past his defences, halting all coherent thoughts.

A pair of hands reached up to grip the edge of the dry dock. Chell hauled herself up on wobbly arms, soaked to the skin and shaking badly.

Doug shot clumsily to his feet, accidentally kicking a yelping Wheatley in his haste to help her. Ironically, the dry dock was full of water, the surrounding area wet. Chell’s trembling limbs were making it difficult for her to scramble up, and he clutched her arms, helping her pull herself out of the dock. She was breathing hard, looking to be teetering on the outskirts of shock. Heart in his mouth, he placed a hand either side of her face, studying her stunned expression.

“Chell,” he said in a choked voice. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head slightly, muttering, “Bruised.”

Letting her go, Doug shrugged out of his jacket, draping it around her shoulders. She clutched it, nodding her thanks.

Gordon appeared in his peripheral vision, and he turned to see what the bespectacled man had to say.

“Get her outside,” he ordered quietly. “The sun’s still pretty warm for this time of year.”

Doug nodded in agreement, reaching out to help Chell to her feet. Before they could stand, however, an irate Kleiner stormed up, followed by Alyx, who was plainly trying to calm him down.

“What have you done?” Kleiner demanded, glaring angrily at Chell. “Do you have any idea of the time and research that went into that thing? The experiments aboard are–”

Doug lashed out with a growl of irritation. “Back off, old man!”

Chell’s hand on his arm stopped him from saying anything more, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Gordon stepped in to talk evenly with Kleiner, giving them an opportunity to leave the hangar. The sun was gentle on their skin as they left the shadow of the doorway, and Chell turned her face towards it, eyes closed. Doug sat with his back against the wall, knees bent, while Chell settled between his legs. He traced paths up and down her arms, trying to warm them.

“It was like before,” she mumbled, breaking the peaceful silence away from Kleiner’s ranting.

“Before?”

“When I…shot a portal on the moon and I was pulled out. The only thing I had to hang on to was Wheatley.” Her voice grew quieter as she recalled. “I never told you this, but right before GLaDOS saved me, Wheatley…told me to let go.”

Doug glanced at her in disbelief, a sharp flare of anger darting in the pit of his stomach. “He did what?”

“He panicked,” she explained with an awkward shrug. “That’s no excuse, I know, and I still find it hard to forgive him, but…he doesn’t handle panic very well.”

“Even still, that doesn’t mean he gets to order you to die.”

Chell nodded in acknowledgement. “I know. But it’s done. I only mentioned it because this time he yelled at me to hang on. After you did it first, admittedly, but he did it. But even still…it just brought all those memories rushing back. I fell unconscious almost immediately after GLaDOS dragged me in the last time, I never had time to really deal with what I’d gone through. So this time…” She shivered violently, and Doug pulled her closer. “I guess that’s why I can’t stop shaking now. I wasn’t in the water long enough for it to have an effect like this.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed her.

At his words, she shook her head, and he turned her face towards him with one hand.

“It is,” he assured her, meeting her gaze. “You’re the strongest, most tenacious person I’ve ever met,” he told her, drawing a smile. “But it’s okay for you to feel like this. Everyone does sometimes. It’s not weakness, it’s your body dealing with what it needs to deal with in its own way so that you can carry on being strong.”

“And I haven’t had a near-death experience in a while,” Chell put in quietly.

“Uh…no, I guess you haven’t,” Doug agreed. “Which is…always good.”

Chell gave a snort of laughter, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I was so lucky,” she said thoughtfully after a moment of silence. “The portal closed just before it would have pulled me through. I think the water pouring in knocked me off course.”

Doug said nothing, his mouth set in a grim line as he considered what might have happened, what almost had happened but for circumstances. They sat in silence for a long while, until Chell’s trembling lessened, then stopped altogether.

“Are you okay?” he asked her when she fidgeted and sat upright.

She nodded, wrinkling her nose. “My butt is wet,” she complained.

Doug raised his eyebrows. “Not really sure how I can help with that. You’d better hope that Kleiner will let you use his shower.”

Chell shot him a wry look. “After you shouted at him and called him an old man?”

He grimaced, already regretting his brief annoyance. “I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted.

“It’s okay,” Chell said with a grin. “It was very…chivalrous.”

By the time that the others joined them, Kleiner had calmed down enough to listen to what the former Aperture employees had to say. Despite his obvious interest in Wheatley, (who did not seem to appreciate being fawned over), his face was pinched in a steady expression of disapproval, which only let up when Chell invited him to the labs. Taking advantage of his apparent intrigue, she took the opportunity to ask about the shower. While she was gone, Doug told Kleiner all about GLaDOS, making sure to leave nothing out. If Kleiner, Gordon and Alyx were going to insist on accompanying them to Aperture, he wanted to make sure they did so with their eyes open.

The plan worked a little too well. Already impressed by Wheatley’s technology, Kleiner was unable to contain his fascination with Aperture, and spent the entire journey talking about it, pausing only for food, sleep, and necessary human functions. By the time the group reached Ishpeming, Doug could have quite happily strangled him. Chell kept diplomatically silent, but he could sense her annoyance. Wheatley, who spent the journey perched on Doug’s lap, was suspiciously quiet too, clearly disliking the fact that he was no longer the mouthiest personality in the vehicle.

They attracted a lot of attention when they drove into Ishpeming. Doug wasn’t at all surprised by that. There were few cars in the town, and none that looked like Gordon’s modified Jeep. Still, the thought of the blur of faces peering at them all when they emerged had him grimacing. His medication kept him clear-headed, but large crowds still made him nervous, and he avoided being the centre of attention where possible.

At Chell’s direction, Gordon pulled up not far from Trevor and Gerry’s house, and the group scrambled out of the car, stretching their stiff limbs. Doug glanced around for familiar faces, spotting curtains moving in several windows. Then the front door opened, revealing Gerry’s frowning countenance. Doug offered him an awkward wave, and the older man’s expression cleared at once.

“Doug?” he called out. “It is Doug, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t sure if Gerry was having trouble recognising him or if he had forgotten his name, but he smiled warmly. “It is.”

“I thought so! We never thought we’d see you again.” Leaving the front door open, Gerry jogged over.

“There’s some business to clear up,” Doug explained. “At Aperture.”

Gerry nodded in understanding. “Well, you know Trevor and I considered leaving after what you told us, but this is our home. We decided to take our chances. And truthfully, nothing’s really happened since you left. Brad and Trish went out looking for the entrance to Aperture, but they couldn’t find it.”

“Good,” Doug said succinctly, frowning.

Gerry sent him a smile. “I know. You told them not to. Did you come alone or did you bring lovely…”

Chell jumped out of the back seat right on cue, prompting Gerry’s grin to widen.

“Chell!”

She beamed back. “Hi, Gerry.”

“You can talk!” he exclaimed, making her laugh. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

“It’s certainly easier than writing everything down.”

He appraised them both with a searching glance. “You both look well,” he commented, sounding pleased about the fact.

“We are, thanks,” Chell replied. “Although,” she added with a shrug, “it wouldn’t be hard to improve on how you first saw us.”

“Well, I didn’t like to say,” Gerry shot back, eyes twinkling. “Neither of you are bleeding this time, so I’ll take that as a plus.”

They shared a laugh, then Gerry froze, his mouth falling open in stunned surprise.

“Is that…? Oh my god, it is!”

Chell and Doug exchanged an amused look.

“Gordon Freeman!”

Gordon turned at the mention of his name, hiding his pained expression admirably well. He gave Gerry a cordial nod.

“Ohmygosh!” Gerry squeaked, hurrying around the car to shake Gordon enthusiastically by the hand. “Mr. Freeman, I am such a huge fan. It’s an honour to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Gordon muttered politely.

Chell stepped up to Gerry’s side, cutting in and stealing his attention to give Gordon a few moments’ grace. “We’re all heading to Aperture in the morning. We were hoping you’d know of a place we could crash for the night.”

Gerry managed to tear his star-struck gaze away just long enough to tell them about a new guesthouse that a friend of his had opened. The group followed him to a large house in good condition, its open doorway guarded by a sleepy-eyed cat. They fully expected to trade work or goods for their rooms, but Gerry’s friend settled happily for Gordon’s autograph. Alyx quietly fumed about the attention, knowing how much Gordon hated it, but Kleiner seemed openly amused. Doug felt a pang of sympathy for the famous man, but he couldn’t deny that it was a good price to pay for three rooms.

They all gathered in the dining room in the morning for breakfast and disputes. It had been decided that Chell and Doug would leave Wheatley with Trevor and Gerry, but Gordon was arguing that Alyx should also stay. Alyx was, of course, in vehement disagreement. Doug sat cradling his coffee cup between his palms, listening to them fight it out while trying to seem invisible. An equally silent Chell and Kleiner had apparently decided on the same tactic.

“I’m not trying to belittle you,” Gordon said for the third time, his quiet voice weary. “I just think we need to put the baby first.”

Alyx pulled a disapproving face, but she seemed to be in partial agreement. Her hand hovered over the bump beneath her shirt even as she stood up for her independence.

“I know better than anyone how capable you are,” Gordon went on gently. “But we said things would change when we became parents. This is one of them.”

“I’m not far along enough for it to make drastic differences to my lifestyle,” said Alyx.

“No, but if this place can be as dangerous as Doug and Chell have said, I don’t want you or the baby anywhere near it.”

Alyx opened her mouth to retort, but the newest Freeman took matters into their own hands and stopped the argument in its tracks. Alyx gave a gasp, pressing her palm to her stomach.

“What?” Gordon said, instantly on alert.

“It kicked,” Alyx told him, eyes wide. “It’s never done that before.”

She seized Gordon’s hand, placing it on the spot where the baby had made its presence known. Gordon smiled as he felt it.

“I think our child agrees with me,” he said softly. “Don’t you?”

Alyx gave a heavy sigh, but nodded. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay here. Happy?”

“Yes.”

She glanced away, and Doug tried to look engrossed in his coffee, aware that Chell was doing something similar next to him.

Wheatley spoke up from his position in the fruit bowl. “You’re definitely leaving me behind, right?”

Doug nodded. “Yes, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried, mate, wasn’t worried. Just, uh, you know, wondering.”

“Of course,” Doug said dryly.

Following Wheatley’s accidental talent at ice-breaking, chatter started up around the table. Doug turned to Chell.

“What about you?” he asked quietly. “Are you worried?”

Chell swallowed the mouthful of toast that she was chewing, turning to him with a thoughtful expression. “Um…no, I don’t think so. I’m wary, but not worried exactly.”

He nodded in understanding. “I feel the same way. Sort of…anxious to get going and get it over with.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Do you think we can find that hut again?” he spoke up, swirling the dregs of his coffee around his mug.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Chell said with a shrug. “It’s not like we have a choice anyway, GLaDOS specifically told us to go in that way. There must be some structural issues with main reception.”

“I, uh, think that might’ve been my fault,” put in Wheatley. “From when I was…redecorating. It’s entirely possible that I may have accidentally melted the stairs in that part of the facility.”

“Melted the stairs?” Doug repeated incredulously. “How do you accidentally melt something? You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“Actually it was for security reasons.”

“Security reasons?” Chell queried, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. I thought if anyone tries to break in, a whopping great hole in the floor would be a good deterrent. I tried to move the stairs elsewhere, but it didn’t quite work out. Turns out the incinerator doesn’t make for a good storage room.”

“No kidding,” Chell muttered.

“Oh, don’t mock me, lady,” Wheatley said irritably. “You’re just sitting there smugly with your cup of…whatever that is, you’ve never tried to run a bloody massive science facility, have you? You’ve never, y’know, thought to yourself ‘you know what, there’s this great big room with loads of free space, perhaps I could store things in it’, then found out that said room is actually full of fire. Melted six flights of stairs, two small offices, and a bunch of water coolers that were just hanging around. Bit of a pain, really. I had plans for those.”

Chell backed down with a quirk of an eyebrow, choosing not to ask what sort of plans involved multiple water coolers. She fell silent for the remainder of the meal, clearly lost in her own reflections in anticipation of the trip ahead. Doug found himself doing the same, although he chose not to dig too deeply. He was afraid of what he might find.

Before long, they were bidding Alyx and Wheatley farewell and climbing back into Gordon’s car. Alyx’s expression was once of severe disapproval, but she didn’t argue.

“If you can’t talk to this thing, kill it,” she commanded firmly. “I’m not bringing up a half Freeman child on my own.”

Gordon valiantly repressed his smile, nodding instead. “Deal.”

Wheatley eyed Chell and Doug with a small, nervous movement. “Um…just…be careful, I suppose. And, uh…maybe tell Her that…I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Are you actually sorry or are you just trying to make her stop wanting to kill you?” Chell asked with obvious curiosity.

“Both,” the core answered at once.

Alyx shot him a bemused glance, and he shifted to look up at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replied with a sigh, lightly tapping her fingertips on his outer shell. “At least I’m going to be entertained while we wait, right?”

Gordon starting the engine drowned out Wheatley’s indignant reply. He leaned out of the open window to shoot a quick “See you later” to Alyx.

“You better,” she responded curtly, her tight smile taking the edge off the words.

Gordon nodded to her, then pulled away from the guesthouse. Doug felt a flutter of apprehension as they finally got under way, casting a glance back at where the companion cube sat silently as ever. He didn’t miss having to rely on it, but it did seem quiet without its voice sometimes. Chell wasn’t quite as talkative, although her advice was just as sound, and she put his mind at ease much more effectively.

In the front, Kleiner started up his enthusiastic speculation once again, but as Gordon picked up speed, the rush of wind through the Jeep’s open sides snatched his words away. Doug was grateful for that. He needed to focus on staying calm, and silencing the small part of him that was aghast at the thought of trusting GLaDOS.

If we don’t show trust in her, she has no reason to trust us, he reminded himself.

But at the back of his mind, he knew he would never quite forget who had killed his co-workers, just as he was sure Chell would not forget who killed her father. GLaDOS, he was sure, would not forget their betrayals either. As starting points went, it wasn’t a particularly promising one, but at least they were on somewhat equal footing.

Beside him, Chell was equally quiet, the breeze whipping strands of hair out of her tidy braid and sending them dancing across her face. She scowled but let them be, knowing that trying to tame them would be a losing battle until the car stopped. Her thoughts looked as solemn as his own, and he hoped he hadn’t made a huge error of judgement about GLaDOS’s sincerity.

Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

A/N: I'll be taking a break for a week or so. We're fast approaching the end, and I've reached the point where I don't have chapters already completed, so I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me. Also, I apologise for leaving you with a filler-ish chapter.

Truthfully, work has become incredibly stressful in the last few weeks. I’m not coping at all well. My anxiety has spiked higher than it’s been for a long time, and it’s making it very hard for me to concentrate on creativity or fandom things. I’m doing my best. I will not abandon this story. But I can’t promise weekly updates for the last few chapters.

#A trusted friend in science #chell #Doug Rattmann #chellmann #wheatley #short chapter is short

14 notes · View notes