#couldn’t figure out where Leaf’s legs would be so I figured they’d be underneath her and didn’t draw them

[nonbinaryriverclan]

So I saw a blue-haired boy Crossin the road the other day I didn't say much of anything

~

Hey, blue-haired boy Please come back my way I finally know what to say to you

-Blue Haired Boy by Madilyn Mei

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of Med: Season 1: Glad I Didn’t Make it that Far (A Halstead brothers + Halstead sister! imagine)

Trigger warning: Talk of eating disorders

As always, I do not own any quotes from Chicago Med 1x04 that show up here!

Your age: 14

Jay's age: 28

Will's age: 30

"We should go to a movie," your best friend Emma suggested when you were sitting on the playground of Central Chicago's elementary school one summer day.

You had been coming here since it was pretty close to your house to be able to read without worrying that your dad would show up drunk. He wasn't violent, he was just rude, asking why there was no food and when you explained it was because he wasn't going shopping, he'd scoff and tell you to get a job if you wanted to eat. It wasn't your fault; you'd tried to get a job, but no one would hire you because you were only fourteen. Most places required that you be at least sixteen and the occasional place would let you start at fifteen, but only with very limited hours. And, the places that let you start at fifteen were too far away for you to walk to. You'd have to take the El...and that would turn out badly if Will and Jay found out, even though your dad wouldn't care in the slightest.

"Em, I don't have any money. I'm literally rationing out my feminine products at this point."

"Hey, just tell me if you need any. Me or my mom can get you some. Oh, and some neighbors of mine run a little kettle corn company. They're looking for some extra help on the weekends and they'll pay you under the table. I can give you their number if you want."

"Really?" Emma smiled and nodded. "Yes, please! And, you're the best."

But, what you didn't tell her was that you hadn't eaten since yesterday since there was barely anything in your house and that your cramps were killing you and because of all this, you were feeling nauseous.

"Let's go to the movies. My treat."

"I can't let you pay for me."

"Yes, you can. Best friends help each other out. Now c'mon, let's go." You sighed and closed your eyes as you stood up. "You good?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just dizzy."

"You wanna go home?"

"No, no I'm fine. Just seasonal allergies from all the pollen," you lied.

"Okay, let's go."

You started to slow down as you got closer to the movie theater. "I'm so excited to see The Longest Ride!" Emma squealed. "Scott Eastwood is just mwah!"

"Yeah, but he's- he's a lot-- I gotta, I gotta sit down," you stuttered, starting to feel more lightheaded and seeing your vision become blurry at the edges.

"Okay, let's get to the front where you can sit on the curb."

You slowly started to make your way there, but it was too late. "Em- Emma," you slurred as you tried to reach for her as your legs gave out underneath you, and then everything went black.

"Y/N!" Emma yelled as she squatted down next to you and pulled out her phone.

Just then, everyone started running out of the theater shouting something about a shooting.

***

Will's pager went off as he was eating with Natalie and the rest of the team from a taco truck outside of Chicago Med. And, everyone else's pagers were going off, too, making it sound like alarm clocks that were all set for the same time. Then, Maggie ran outside.

"Shooting in a movie theater! Mass casualties! It's about to get crazy!" she yelled to the doctors and other nurses. "EMTs are four minutes out!"

Not even a second after she finished her sentence, an ambulance pulled up with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

"Check that!" Will yelled as he threw his food in the trash can. "They're here!"

Then, all of them sprinted into the hospital, their main focus now being saving as many lives as possible.

"Another maniac gone crazy in a theater," Will said as he put something over his scrubs to keep them from getting blood all over them. "Is this the world we live in?"

***

You slowly opened your eyes to be met with the white ceiling and an IV in your arm. You groaned. "Where am I?" you asked as you rolled over to see Emma sitting on a bench. "Are we in an ambulance?"

"You don't remember?" Emma asked.

"You passed out, sweetie," a female paramedic told you as she put a blood pressure cuff around your arm. "Luckily for you, we came pretty quick after hearing about the shooting."

"The shooting? There was a shooting?"

"In the movie theater," the paramedic answered you. "You were lucky you didn't go in."

"Guess so."

Your eyes widened as you realized they were probably taking you to Chicago Med. You couldn't let your brother know that the most likely reason for you passing out was that you hadn't eaten since yesterday. They'd freak out.

"Am I good to go when we get to the hospital? I feel fine." You were still nauseous, but that was better than being passed out.

"You passed out, we need to get you checked out at the hospital."

"But I feel fine," you protested.

"I understand that, sweetie. But you need to get checked out anyway to make sure that there wasn't something that made you pass out other than the heat."

"She's right, Y/N," Emma said. "You need to get checked out."

You huffed. "Fine." Maybe Will would be too busy to even notice you were there. And, you figured your dad wouldn't pick up his phone, so you could just sneak out undetected when the doctors and nurses weren't watching.

When you got in, you were met by Natalie. "Y/N?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

"It's nothing. I just passed out. I'm fine, really."

"Shoot," Emma said. "My mom's here to pick me up. Said she doesn't want me here because of all the press since I'm not hurt. I'm sorry."

You waved your hand. "It's fine. Hopefully, I'll be getting out here soon, too. See you later."

"Bye, Y/N."

"If you passed out, you're not fine, Y/N," Natalie said.

As you were wheeled past a trauma room, you saw your brother. Luckily for you, he was too focused on his patient that he didn't notice.

"Want me to get Will?" Natalie asked when she saw you glance in there.

"No! I mean, he looks really busy and I'm not dying. They should be the first priority."

"Okay, well I'll have Maggie call your dad because after all the standard tests, if I need to do more, I'm going to need your dad's permission since you're still a minor."

"Okay."

"Hey, Maggie," Natalie called, "Do me a favor and call Y/N's dad for me. I just might need permission to run some additional tests."

"You got it."

You got on the bed in the treatment room and allowed Natalie to listen to your heart and lungs. "Were you part of the crush?" she asked. "Did you get the wind knocked out of you? Is that why you passed out?"

"No, I got dizzy before we could get inside. I felt nauseous, too, but I think that was just from period cramps."

"The paramedics said you were dehydrated and that they had to administer an IV. Have you been eating and drinking properly? I know it's hot and that can cause you to pass out. Other than that factor, have you been eating and drinking normally?"

"Yes," you lied.

"Okay, I'm just going to need to get your height and weight and other vitals before we continue."

You nodded and followed her to where she took your height and weight. She wrote it down and you started to walk out, but she stopped you. "Uh, Y/N, come with me."

You followed her to the doctor's lounge where she handed you her sweatshirt. "Why are you giving me this?"

"You bled through your shorts. There's free pads and tampons in the bathroom if you don't have any on you."

You nodded. "Thank you."

"Meet me back here once you're finished."

"Okay."

When you got into the bathroom, you took all the pads and tampons you could fit in your shorts pockets after you had finished changing your dirty one.

Now, it was time for your great escape. No one would see you; they were all too busy treating other patients and worrying about the press.

You were almost out into the waiting room, but then a voice stopped you.

"Y/N?"

Shit. Jay.

You stopped in your tracks but then continued walking.

"Y/N, I know you heard me. Come back."

You sighed and turned around, hoping you wouldn't have to spill all the secrets about what's been happening at home.

***

"Poor guy," Erin said as she and Jay exited Sharon Goodwin's office. "He thought what he was going was right."

"I probably would've done the same thing if I were in his shoes," Jay agreed. "I mean, if I thought I saw a guy with an AR-15 in a movie theater and then thought the shots from the movie were coming from the gun, I sure as hell would've acted. Not that my service weapon can shoot bullets off as much as my sniper, but I'd try. Try and save civilians."

"Jay." Erin placed a hand on his arm. "You're not in Afghanistan anymore."

"I know. There's just some sick and twisted people in this world. Why would someone go into a theater with a leaf blower anyway? With all the mass shootings that have happened, that's probably the stupidest idea I've heard."

"I agree with you. But he's just a kid. He didn't ask to get shot. But, if I were in that teacher's shoes, I'd probably do the same thing and draw my gun."

Jay furrowed his eyebrows as he saw someone walking towards the exit of the ED and towards the waiting room. She had shorts and a t-shirt on with a burgundy sweatshirt tied around her waist. Jay wouldn't have given it a second thought, but he knew you had the same gray beat-up Converse because he had gotten them for you for a birthday present two years ago and you always wore the same polka dot scrunchie when you needed your hair to be in a bun and needed it to be tight.

"Is that?..." Erin trailed off.

"I think so," Jay answered, quickening his pace to catch up with you before you got out of the ED and he lost sight of you due to the number of people in the waiting room. "Y/N!" he yelled.

The girl he thought was you froze for a split second and then continued walking, this time at a faster pace. That was all the confirmation he needed. "Y/N, I know you heard me. Come back."

You sighed and turned around.

"I was going to tell you," you mumbled once you were in front of him.

He scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest. "Yeah? And when were you planning on calling Dad? You know you're a minor so a parent needs to be notified."

"Y/N!" Natalie yelled. "I thought you left, I was so close to getting security to look for you. We couldn't get a hold of your dad and were going to call Jay since he's your secondary emergency contact, but he's here now, so if both of you could follow me then that'd be great."

"You got it from here, Erin?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, text me if you need me to pick you up and bring you back to the district."

"Will do. Don't let Voight bust my balls because I skipped out."

"I'll tell him Y/N had a medical emergency. He'll understand."

"Thanks."

You, Natalie, and Jay walked back into the treatment room where Natalie had been previously treating you.

"First of all, let me just say it was not a medical emergency," you told your brother.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you here?" he asked.

"I was feeling nauseous."

"And you came to the ED just because of some nausea?" He raised an eyebrow. He so knew you were lying.

Meanwhile, Will was walking out of a trauma room after Rhodes brought a victim up to surgery.

"Hey. You hear?" Reese asked as she walked up to the doctor. "The kid at the theater, the one who got shot, he didn't have a gun, he had a leaf blower."

"What?" Will asked, stunned. He had worked on that kid and knew that it wasn't good.

"Yeah, turns out it was some kind of prank." She was about to turn around to leave, but then stopped. "Oh, and your sister's here. Treatment one."

"What? Why?"

"I think she passed out or something. Dr. Manning's in there with her right now."

"Thanks, Reese."

Will barged into your treatment room. "So, she comes into the ED and nobody has the common decency to even notify me?" he asked rhetorically.

"You were busy treating other patients, Will. I was going to get around to it eventually," Natalie said.

"Natalie, please just finish explaining what happened. Or just start from the beginning because Will's here now," Jay suggested, not wanting to have to break up an argument between the two doctors.

Now it was Will who was the one who crossed his arms over his chest.

"So, Will, what happened was that Y/N passed out. She was almost inside the movie theater, but she passed out, so she didn't go in."

"The movie theater where the shooting happened?" Jay asked. You nodded. "Jesus, kid, if you would've gotten inside, you would've given both me and Will heart attacks."

"Sorry. But, I'm glad I didn't get that far."

"Yeah, us too," Will agreed. "So, why'd she pass out?"

"Can I talk to you two for a minute? Outside?"

They nodded. "Be right back," Jay told you.

"So, what's going on?" Jay asked once the three were safely outside of the room and out of earshot from you.

"Have you noticed anything strange with her eating habits lately? Any skipping meals? Going to the bathroom right after meals? Not wanting to eat?" Natalie asked the two brothers.

"No, nothing," Jay answered. "Granted, we don't eat with her a lot because she lives with our dad and we both live on our own."

"Okay, because since her physical check-up a month and a half ago, Y/N's lost fifteen pounds."

"Fifteen?" Will asked, flabbergasted.

"I thought she looked smaller, but I just thought I was hallucinating from lack of sleep because of all the crazy cases we've had," Jay said.

"No, she's lost fifteen pounds since her last check-up," Dr. Manning reiterated.

"So, what are you saying?" Will asked. "Our sister's anorexic? Bulimic?"

"I'm not saying any of those yet. But, I talked to Dr. Charles while Y/N was in the bathroom and she said to try and have her eat something, like the greasiest thing you can find in the cafeteria, and see what she does. We'll even leave the room after to chat and I'll have Maggie keep an eye on the bathrooms to see if she goes in there. If she refuses to eat or freaks out over it, then we might be dealing with anorexia. If she goes into the bathroom after, we might be dealing with bulimia. Or, it could be a combination of the two or just possibly her trying to lose weight. Has she ever mentioned wanting to lose weight to either of you?"

"No, not all," Jay answered. "Even when we went out after her last day of school, which I think was about two weeks after she had that physical, she ate a ton and she didn't go to the bathroom right after."

"But you did go home right after," Will pointed out.

"Yeah."

"But, with some bulimics, if they know that the food has already been digested, they won't try to purge. And, it sounds like the food had time to digest."

"Alright, I'll go grab her a bacon cheeseburger."

"And a side of mac n cheese," Jay suggested. "She loves that stuff." Will started to walk out, but Jay stopped him once more. "Can you pick me up a bacon cheeseburger, too? I'm hungry."

Will rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but just so you know, you're paying me back."

"I know," Jay said and then went back inside the treatment room.

"Where's Will?" you asked.

"He's getting you some food. How does a bacon cheeseburger and mac n cheese sound?"

God, your mouth watered just at the thought of the bacon cheeseburger alone. The juicy patty, melty cheese, and crispy bacon, yum. And, you hadn't had a burger in who knows how long.

"That sounds amazing honestly," you answered.

"Okay, good because that's what Will's getting you." He paused. "Is everything okay with Dad? Everything good at home?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," you lied.

"Did someone tell you that you were fat at all?"

Shit, he knew I'd lost weight. "No," you answered. "I guess I'm not just mindlessly snacking when I'm doing homework anymore. It's not like I'm trying to lose weight."

No way were you going to tell him that there was rarely any food in the house, not here anyway.

"Okay, good," Jay answered. Then, he looked out of the room to see Will talking with Natalie. But, they were close enough that you could hear them, so you turned your attention to the two as well.

"Hey, Nat," Will said, carrying a bag with three cheeseburgers and a side of mac n cheese.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"I'm thinking, I only live a mile from you. So, when you go into labor, call me. I'll drive you here."

"Thanks, but...you know it could be three in the morning, right?"

"Sleep's overrated anyway."

Then, Will made his way back into your treatment room. "I wanna take you to the hospital," Jay mocked. "Very smooth, Will, very smooth."

"Will's got a crush, Will's got a crush," you said in a sing-song voice.

"Would you two knuckleheads keep it down? And no, I do not have a crush, I was just trying to be helpful."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah right. You totally have a crush on her, man. Now, give us the food and we won't say anything."

***

"Everything seem normal?" Natalie asked Will as Jay was still sitting with you after the three of you had finished your food.

"Yeah, she ate a little faster than normal, but we waited an hour and she didn't even get up to go to the bathroom, so I don't think that's the issue. She told Jay she wasn't trying to lose weight. She said she just wasn't mindlessly eating anymore when she was doing homework. But, I don't think that could make her lose fifteen pounds. Do you?"

"No. But unfortunately, given her height and age, she still has a normal BMI, so we can't do anything."

"Yeah, I get it. Me and Jay will keep an eye on her. It was around this time when our dad just kind of checked out on parenting us."

"What do you mean?"

"He wouldn't cook or really help us with anything. But, it was okay because our Mom was still around, so she'd cook and help us with things. He just thought we were old enough to deal with stuff on our own."

"Things that a teenager without another parent still needs help with."

"Exactly."

Jay poked his head out of the room. "Everything good? Y/N's asking when she can leave."

Will rolled his eyes. "Wonder where she gets that from."

"Shut up."

"I'll grab you the discharge papers," Natalie said and then walked to a nurse's station.

Just then, Will's pager went off. "I gotta go." He fished into the pocket of his scrubs. "You can take my car home and then just come pick me up from work and we can drive back to the district to get your truck. That way you don't have to bug Erin."

"Thanks, man. Go save some lives."

Natalie came back and handed him the discharge papers.

"Thanks, Nat. Me and Will will be sure to keep an eye on her, maybe have her over for dinner once or twice a week to monitor her eating habits."

"That's a good idea. Good luck with all this. Will told me that this was around the time that your dad clocked out on you, so maybe pay him a visit when Y/N's not there and check? I don't know if that's something you'd want to do or not."

Jay nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

"No problem."

Jay signed the discharge papers and then walked back into the room. "Good news."

"We can leave?" you asked excitedly as you sat up.

"We can leave," he confirmed.

***

You got out of the car and stood on the stoop of your house, Jay right next to you. "Jay," you started, "I have to tell you something."

"Okay, what is it? You can tell me anything."

You opened your mouth to tell him that there was barely any food in the house and that your dad refused to buy you feminine hygiene products because, by his logic, if he had another son, he wouldn't need to buy them, so you should buy them yourself.

But then, the door opened, revealing your dad.

"I was just going to say thanks for staying with me at the hospital. I would've left if you didn't stop me."

"You're welcome."

"Care to tell me where you've been?" your dad asked.

You knew he was just putting on a show because Jay was there.

"I was at the park and then me and Emma were going to see a movie and then--" your phone buzzed, alerting you that you had a text message.

"I've got it from here, Y/N. Dad, can I come inside?"

Pat Halstead nodded and you walked inside followed by your brother. "I'm gonna go upstairs and change," you said.

As you walked past the kitchen, you noticed a bunch of grocery bags, all of them full. He must've gone grocery shopping. At least you didn't have to worry about food for the next few days. But, you didn't know if he just did that because he finally listened to his voice mails and heard that you were in the hospital and were worried that they were going to find out that he was an unfit parent or because he finally came to his senses and realized that he was still responsible for you because you were a minor, which meant he needed to have food in the house.

As you walked upstairs, you checked your phone. It was Emma's neighbor asking if you could start helping her with kettle corn this Saturday. You responded with a yes because now, if your dad went back to not buying groceries, at least you'd be able to buy some for yourself.

A/N: Sorry this one was so short! It's kind of just to foreshadow the next installment of this. And, in the next installment, I will probably combine Seasons of PD: Season 4 and Seasons of Med: Season 2 because the storylines kind of go together. Anyway, thank you for reading! Please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think! As always, if you want to be added to the taglist, just tell me and I’ll be happy to add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e 

[may-b-a-u-shewritestoo]

Chapter 2 | | Lamplights and Lonesome Bridge

warnings; mention of assault (being bullied)

word count; 3k

Tapping the end of her pen on her bottom lip, Zuli took a moment to close her eyes and breathe in the fresh air. She sat cross-legged upon her burnt orange blanket on a grassy square outside the Astronomy and Astrophysics building, writing pages and more pages for her thesis.

The transference of energy in the universe and its inability to be created.

So far she’d handwritten sixteen pages, the words just flowing from her mind but now she’d hit a wall. Slowly laying down onto her back, Zuli looked up at the sky. How could it hold so much space? Matter, particles, chemicals, stars, meteors, planets. And yet all she could see was clouds; aerosols consisting of liquid particles and crystals. The sky is just plain azure; like a door hiding so much beyond it. A crisp orange and brown leaf swivelled down from a nearby branch, landing only centimetres from her head.

She was truly fascinated by everything the world and the galaxies had to offer, intrigued by discovery; obsessed with learning. Letting out a deep exhale and closing her eyes, she almost began to drift off; her brain realising it needed a few minutes to reboot and recover. But a ruckus of sarcastic laughter and shouting stirred her from her relaxation.

Sitting up and shielding her eyes from the glowing sun, Zuli looked around to see where the noise was coming from. Sight finally following Sound, her stomach dropped as she noticed what was happening.

All too familiar she recognised five grown seniors underneath the arches by the Mathematics classrooms surrounding somebody, whoever it was being thrown around like a rag doll. Passed between each student, they were being shoved, hit, laughed at and verbally abused. While she knew she could be quite assertive and intimidating, that really only applied to people her age or younger. Seniors were different.

Continuing to watch at the same time as keeping an eye out to see if any staff were walking past.

“Ha ha, won’t be able to read your sappy love letters without these huh?” One older guy shouted, holding up a pair of clear framed glasses. Oh no. Her heart sank. Something began tingling in her stomach, flowing through to her feet and her arms and hands; she grew angry, scared, overwhelmed.

Collecting her textbooks and notepad, Zuli stood up and marched straight over to the group of boys. Adrenaline and dopamine worked evilly beside each other, triggering Zuli’s instincts of fight or flight; both of them somehow coming into play.

“If you don’t leave him the heck alone, I’ll report you to the dean of the CARE team. I know you. You,” Zuli addressed two of the group, “are from Chemistry. You others are from Mathematics. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. Back off.” She spoke with such a seething tone to her voice, regardless of her being a small 15 year old kid; the boys listened, gathering their things and jogging off in a different direction.

“Spencer?” Zuli’s tone changed immediately, as she whispered to the boy curled up on the floor clutching his bag. His glasses were thrown just a bit away from him so Zuli picked them up, wiped the lenses with the hem of her sweater and handed them back to Spencer. He snatched them, scrambling to get himself together and stood up.

“It’s a silly question, but are you alri-“ Zuli couldn’t even finish the sentence before Spencer ran off, the back of him becoming a small shape as he got further and further away.

Shrugging her own backpack on her shoulders properly and adjusting her own glasses on the bridge of her nose, she tried to tell her brain not to take it personally. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to anybody after being exploited like that in public.

As she took a step forward to follow him, her foot nudged against something thick on the floor. A book covered in tight lavender coloured woven cloth lay on the floor, as if discarded like trash. Picking it up to observe, she noticed it had S.R embroidered down the spine. Holding it to her chest, she looked up to see if Spencer was still visible.

Watching as he became a little dot in the distance, she watched as he stopped underneath a junction of trees. Go left. Go left Spencer. He looked to his right before running off to the left and Zuli sighed with solace.

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

The sunshine and clear sky was quickly a thing of the past as the weather turned into what should be expected of the fall; darkness creeping in early, and light raindrops hitting the ground. And as Zuli creaked open the recognisable doors to the library, it was the rain against the windows that made the soft sound of sniffling even more melancholic.

Following the soft sniffles to where she hoped in foresight Spencer would be, she sighed at the confirmation. Curled up in one of the big leather armchairs in what they’d both christened as ‘their’ corner of the room, Spencer had his knees tucked into his chest and his head tucked into his knees.

Arms wrapped tightly around his legs, he squeezed himself tighter at the sound of soft footsteps creeping toward him. He wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to speak to a dean or a librarian or another student.

But as he peeked underneath his elbow and saw Zuli’s maroon Doc Martens standing by the chair, he lifted his whole head to see her smiling down at him.

“Hey you.” She spoke, for the first time, truly gently.

“Hi.” Spencer sniffed hard, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his sweater sleeve and trying to sit up properly.

“You don’t have to get up for me Spencer, I’ll sit over there,” Even though her instinct was telling her to give him a huge hug, she knew he wouldn’t want it, “I think this is yours though.”

Holding out the mysterious book, Spencer’s eyes widened and he let out a breathy chuckle of disbelief.

“I thought they took it,” You shook your head as he took it timidly from your hands, “It was a birthday gift.”

“Wait. Did I miss your birthday?” Zuli asked, eyes widening and mouth open in surprise. Had she been so caught up in her thesis she didn’t notice her own friend’s birthday? As her brain attempted to figure out his birthday, he spoke.

“It’s today.”

“What? Why didn't you say anything?” Zuli supposed also, how hadn’t she noticed from the years before? She would’ve got him gifts, made him some cupcakes, anything.

Spencer shifted in his seat a little, fingernails stretching at a loose bit of cotton on his pants. He was evidently uncomfortable, for reasons that Zuli didn’t know and didn’t want to press on. Looking over Spencer’s shoulder at something happening outside in the hall, Zuli let out a little giggle.

Joining her in looking, Spencer too giggled at the sight of some students carrying a range of pumpkins and running down the hall with them.

A tradition they’d both learned takes place every Halloween at Caltech; students dropping pumpkins from the 9 floors up, watching them smash into tiny pieces at the bottom. It was one of the first things that Zuli and Spencer had done together besides study, laughing at the atmosphere of excitement and madness as the pumpkins shattered on the ground.

Zuli had picked miniscule bits of pumpkin out of Spencer’s hair for hours after.

“Shall we go watch?” She asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and holding onto her bag straps, “It might make you feel a little better.”

Spencer smiled at the doorway before turning to look at Zuli, overwhelmed by her kind soft voice; also wanting both to feel better and see the tradition.

“Let’s go.” Spencer stood up, brushing down his pants and running his hands over his face, removing evidence of his upset minutes ago.

As they both walked towards the doors, Zuli nudged Spencer’s shoulder with her own; getting a little chuckle out of him. Reaching down to turn the doorknob, Zuli leant her full body weight on the door to push it open.

But it wouldn’t. Jiggling the door handle over and over, the realisation creeped in that it wasn’t going to budge. Turning to Spencer, she let out a splutter of anxious giggles, his eyes wide however returning the same laughs.

“Well, looks like we’ve been locked in.” Spencer said, attempting to look through the glass and down the hall in case anyone was still walking around. He knew that everybody would be outside watching the pumpkins, but surely they would’ve seen them both in there.

Looking over to the corner they were sat in, he realised that the chairs were tucked in a corner behind some bookshelves, out of sight from the entrance door. Brilliant.

“Let’s just use the desk phone and call the caretaker or somebody?” Zuli suggested, pulling out her planner from her backpack and heading over to the phone sitting on top of the librarians desk. She’d taken all the emergency numbers of staff and authorities down in case anything ever happened. Preparedness was a relatively strong suit for her.

Spencer paced around the front of the desk as Zuli tried different numbers, stopping only when she began talking to somebody. It wasn’t that he was worried about anything, he adored the library; however he was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. Spending his birthday trapped in a library almost sounded fun, and it was only counting on the fact that Zuli would keep him entertained and busy.

“Okay, that’s fine. No it’s not that bad actually. See you soon. Thank you sir. Bye.” Zuli sighed as she put the phone down, hopping down from where she was sitting on the desk, “They’re sending a caretaker out to come and unlock the doors, but they won’t be for another two to three hours because of the rain.”

“I suppose that’s significantly better than staying here until 7 tomorrow morning.”

“The lady asked if it was cold in here, because the heating turns off at six-ish, buuuuut-“ Zuli unzipped her backpack and pulled out the blanket she was sitting on earlier, “I came prepared. Oh my god! I have an idea!”

Spencer just smiled and pulled his bag strap back over his head, settling it down on a nearby chair as he watched his hyperactive friend begin to push one of the leather chairs forward. He had no idea what she was doing, but whatever it would be he was going to just leave her to it.

*********************************************************“Is your neck hurting too?”

“Yeah. I completely misjudged the size of the blanket, and the distance between the chairs.”

They were both crouched underneath Zuli’s blanket that she had draped over the backs of two chairs; attempting to make a small fort in which they could hide from the cold threatening to creep in. But the blanket was only a small kind of throw, the chairs were absolutely huge and she and Spencer were squeezed so close together they might as well have been fused.

“I’ve got shoulder cramp, how is that even possible?” Zuli chuckled, rolling both shoulders back and wincing. The sudden movement tugged on a part of the blanket dipped behind them, and it soon fell to cover them entirely.

“If a muscle is overused or held in an awkward position over a long period of time, it can spasm. While only temporary, it seems like yours would be in the trapezius muscle, so before it entirely locks up I’d recommend a few stretches.” Spencer spoke, voice muffled by the blanket covering his head.

Bursting out into laughter, Zuli pushed the blanket back off of their heads, letting it sit around their shoulders. Rolling her head around in semi-circles, she sighed as the pain began to drift away. She knew it wasn’t just the way she was sitting, her posture had grown awful. Constantly hunched over books, or telescopes, she barely had time to stand or sit straight.

“Spencer…” Zuli mumbled, her voice coming out in the same way a person would sneak down the hall to the fridge at midnight.

“Mm?”

“May I ask what was so important about your book? Is it a first edition?”

Spencer smiled sadly as he reached for it, the spine poking out of his bag. If only he just told her everything with his mom; she wouldn’t have to ask these things and he wouldn’t have to answer them. He knew she would be kind and considerate - that’s just her in general - but he felt like it was too much to offload to somebody else. He didn’t want a pity party, he didn’t need one. But at the same time, if there was somebody to understand a tiny part of his struggle, it could make it easier. He wasn’t sure what was harder. So he calculated the simplest, vaguest answer possible, so as not to attract any further questions.

“It was a gift from somebody special. My favourite poems, mostly romantic, sonnets etcetera. Those seniors thought it was funny so used their own insecurities to lash out.”

There was a sadness behind his words, Zuli knew he wasn’t saying everything but trusted him enough to know if he wanted to share, he could. Deflecting slightly, her brain held on to the words ‘somebody special’ and ‘romantic’. No, it wouldn’t be something like that, he’d tell her. Surely?

“I feel like I can hear your thoughts, Zuli.” Spencer snapped her out of her thinking, eyebrows furrowed with intrigue, “It’s not what you think at all.”

“No, oh my god, it’s fine, I was just thinking that's all. I want you to feel like you can talk to me if you need to, but also you don’t have to, I just can see that you’re upset by something and I’m here if you-“

“It’s from my mom. She’s um…she’s not well. But she remembered my birthday and sent it to me. I read hundreds of books, but this one means the world to me.”

Zuli watched him with intense eyes. She felt full of adoration, sadness, love and contentment for Spencer. She could see he was hurting, but the lavender book gripped tightly in his fingers clearly brought him fondness. Spencer looked up at Zuli to see why he got no response, to find her smiling with enamour. Two lamplights on the table next to them cast a tuscan glow over the two of them, and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly warm.

“Do you know what?” Zuli sat up quickly, keeping the mood from dipping down and switching it to popping up, “I have something that makes me feel like that.”

Reaching into her own knapsack, she pulled out a medium sized leather book and handed it over to Spencer.

“You can look inside if you want.”

Spencer ran his fingers over the carved outline of a tree on the cover, the flat grain of the leather smooth and cool underneath his fingertips. It was beautifully made, and he could tell from the feel of the leather bindings and the smoothness of the handmade paper. He laid it down in between them both, gesturing for Zuli to open it herself.

She excitedly unravelled the leather strips wound round the outside and opened it up to her cover page. Written in magnificent calligraphy the words;

My Dream Adventures

lazuli aged 6

“It was a gift from my mom too. I’ve written a lot of hopes and dreams here, some of which I’ve achieved and some I’m yet to. She used to say to me that ‘adventure is out there.’” Zuli articulated, flipping the first few pages and pointing at different coloured writings.

“Own a lemonade stand and make fifty dollars.”

“Achieved,” Zuli spoke proudly, “age eleven. Made ninety dollars and bought this new backpack.”

Spencer laughed with true merriment before going back to some of the other scribbles.

“Keep bees and sell my own honey.”

“Yet to.”

“Quite the businesswoman it seems, Zuli.” Spencer giggled at her straightforwardness. Zuli’s smile was wider than the Amazon river, her passion and true self coming out as she expressed herself through her past stories.

“This one looks cool, I like your artwork. To fly a house to Lonesome Bridge and live there forever. Where's the Lonesome Bridge?” Spencer asked, trying to rack his brain and think where this ideal living space was.

“It’s in Utah. I love how you don’t care about how I get there, just where I’m going.” Zuli smiled, looking down at the drawing she’d made as a young kid, a white wooden house with multicoloured balloons poking out of its chimney.

“Not to crush your dreams but how do you expect to fly a house. If I’m not mistaken, Utah is at least six hundred and seventy miles…” Spencer’s voice trailed off as a dark frown dropped over Zuli’s face.

It was replaced with a burst of laughter and an excited flap of Zuli’s hands. “Okay so, I estimated that my dream house would be roughly around one hundred thousand pounds in weight, and if I used balloons that were around six feet in diameter, I’d only need, oh what was it..” She hurried to flip to the next page, covered in scribbles of calculations and more drawings of coloured balloons across the page, “Ah! Thirteen thousand, two hundred and eight balloons.”

Spencer watched as she smiled down at her drawings, continuing to explain how the impossible was actually possible. Although he definitely didn’t have a life threatening disease in which this was a symptom, he felt as if his heart was swelling. Unfamiliar with this feeling, he should’ve been uncomfortable but he couldn’t feel more at ease and peace as he did then.

Zuli felt the same unknowingly to him, her heart pouring out of her mouth within her words as she unravelled her future and shared it all with Spencer. She hoped deep, deep, deep down inside that he would stick around and see these wonderful things with her.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part IV

(Author’s Notes: Does anyone even read this part? I’m going to pretend like you all do... Hello everyone! Here is the next installment of my Jordelia fan-fiction based on the characters created by the amazing Cassandra Clare in her trilogy Chain of Gold. This is really turning into what the cool kids call a “slow burn”. I never intended it to have such an extensive plot, but this quarantine is really bring forth my imagination. Anyway, if you enjoyed this please give it a like, reblog, comment, or feel free to just pop in and say hi. As always, thank you for reading! Happy and safe quarantine to you all. P.S. I have added an original character “Martin” for the selfish reason that I didn’t want to kill Cyril. Please forgive the inconsistency.)

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Part IV

“Maybe he should lie down?”

“I don’t need to lie down, mother,” said James, not unkindly, but with a bit of annoyance. “He’s removing a bracelet, not my arm.”

“If you don’t remain still,” said Magnus, his dark eyebrows glistened with flecks of glitter when he arched them, “it might well be.”

Magnus stood in front of James in the center of the Institute library with James’s hand suspended between them while the warlock focused his attention on the seemingly inconsequential silver band that adorned James’s wrist. If one were looking from afar without any context at all it might appear comical. Flecks of blue light danced from Magnus’s fingertips causing the silver to rattle against James’s skin. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or if the bracelet had begun to glow. No. It was most certainly glowing and hot. It rattled and spun until it became so hot that James ripped his arm away on instinct. 

Magnus looked up, resigned and slightly paled. “It’s a much more powerful spell than I initially realized.” 

“How do you mean?” Will asked from where he sat on the desk under the arched stain glass window cut and stained to look like the angel Raziel rising up to the heavens. Rain hit the glass as thunder crackled against the Institute’s walls rattling the crystal chandelier above them. “Will it come off?”

“It’s the strangest thing.” Magnus picked up James’s wrist again. “An absolute work of genius, actually. It’s as if it’s alive and it’s fighting against my magic.”

“Well I’ve had quite enough.” Lucie stood up from the floor where she had been petting Church in long, absentminded strokes. The cat gave a placid meow when she’d stopped. She smoothed out her dress and walked towards the door. “There seems to be only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” Matthew asked from where he stood in front of the door, blocking her way. He seemed more steady than his usual self. His hand wasn’t twitching where it held the door frame; his eyes remained focused and clear. They had all wondered what brought on his sudden sobriety. It seemed after one conversation with her father and he’d dropped the sauce like one of his waist coats that he deemed “out of style”. Will had that effect on people. It was best not to question it.

“I’m going to collect Grace Blackthorn and drag her here so that she can ask James to remove the bracelet her-bloody-self.” Lucie came to a stop in front of Matthew. It may have been the shadows cast across his face, but Matthew almost appeared afraid.

“No, Lucie, we aren’t sure what Grace is capable of,” said Tessa. “You said only moments ago that she confessed the truth about the bracelet, but you failed to think to bring her here to remove it?”

Lucie’s mouth opened in defense, but closed as if she forgot what she intended to say. She turned back to Matthew with a quizzical grimace. “Why didn’t we bring Grace back with us?”

“She—“ Matthew raised a pale eyebrow. “I must say I don’t recall.”

Lucie turned her back against the wall and crossed her arms over chest. Heat radiated to her face despite the chill that surrounded the room. Anxiety prickled underneath her skin like the desire to run as far and as fast as she could. 

It’d been a whole day since she last spoke to Cordelia. They’d stood in the foray of her Aunt Cecily’s home after having walked in on her brother ravishing Grace Blackthorn against a wall. It was not an image that would soon evaporate from her memories. A blind rage filled her so suddenly that she feared she might have blacked out for a moment. When she came to, the walls behind James and Grace started to ripple and crease as translucent figures emerged from the atrocious paisley wallpaper. Their fleshless hands reached for the disentangled couple when Cordelia wrapped her hand around Lucie’s wrist and the door closed between them. 

No one had seen anything. Not even her brother whose eyes were fastened on Cordelia. No one knew the dark depths to which her power could reach— not even herself. 

“I know you’re upset, darling,” said Tessa, from beside her daughter now, “but have faith that Magnus can remove the bracelet and we will figure this all out.”

“We don’t have time for faith and waiting.” Lucie dropped her arms back to her sides. “Cordelia is on her way to Idris and after what James did, she’s likely to rune her room with wards not even the Angel himself can get through.” 

James grimaced. Good, she thought. He deserves to be in pain.

“That doesn’t sound like Cordelia to me,” said Tessa and pressed a hand to Lucie’s cheek. “You’re warm darling, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.” Lucie insisted. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment I think I’ll pop into the kitchen for a glass of water while I have faith and wait.”

Tessa looked resigned. “Maybe someone should go with you.”

“It’s only down the hall,” said Lucie, skirting past her mother towards the now empty doorway. Matthew stood beside James, an arm around his shoulder, as the two of them studied the bracelet. Matthew said something in James’s ear that brought a small smile to her brother’s face. Whatever they had fought about only days ago, it seemed not to matter now. Or if it did, other things took precedence at the moment. 

Tears stung her eyes as she turned from the scene and exited the room.

The framed pictures on the hallway walls rattled with the thunder. Lucie stopped to readjust one that had tilted slightly of her sitting in a deep purple velvet arm chair studying a book. She secretly hated the likeness— not because it didn’t capture her respectfully— but because of the memory of it. She had to sit for nearly four hours listening to the artist drone on about his holiday in the Americas while her brother clashed swords with Matthew in the training room next door. 

“Chin up, dear.” Bridget would say from time to time. “You’ll look like a potato.”

Lucie left the photo off center and pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. To her relief, it was empty. Bridget was probably in her room reading or minding the Institute’s many chores. The kitchen always smelt like rosemary, freshly baked loaves, and exotic spices. It was heavenly and had an instant calming effect on Lucie. Memories of being a child and helping Bridget beat dough with her tiny fists until she was covered in flour from her mess of mousy brown curls to her apron came to mind. What she wouldn’t give to have a mound of dough to beat now.

Lucie walked around the center island, covered in a thin layer of flour, to the cupboard that housed the glassware and pulled a cup from the shelf. The pitcher of cold water sat beside the sink; she filled her cup to the brim and took a sip when a slight chill brushed against the exposed skin on the back of her neck. 

“Not now, Jessamine.” Lucie stared down into her reflection in the cup. The soft wispy hair around her face stood out in delicate curls she’d inherited from her father. A leaf sat tucked behind her ear. The coal she’d lined her eyes with had run making her eyes appear wide and fatigued. 

“Should I return later then?”

The cup fell from her hands and shattered at her feet, but she hardly seemed to notice. She spun around and faced the voice. “Jesse.”

A smile curved at the corner of his mouth. His straight black hair fell against his pale skin and swept across his green eyes that studied her from across the room.

“Where have you been?” The shattered glass crushed under her shoes as she moved forward to meet him. An uncontrollable desire to grab him around the shoulders and collapse into him made it difficult for her to breath evenly. She knew she couldn’t; that it wasn’t possible anymore, but reality rarely dissolved desire. 

“Tracking my fugitive mother,” said Jesse, his lips curled over his teeth. “I thought how hard could it possibly be to find a woman who still chooses to wear an enormous Victorian bird hat? Well, it turns out that it’s extremely difficult. If you needed me why didn’t you summon me sooner?”

Lucie averted her eyes to the ink stain marks on her fingers. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

After commanding him against his will to take her to James, she’d made a promise not only to him, but to herself to never command him to do anything again. That included summoning him to her even when she longed to just hear his voice. 

“It’s alright, Lucie.” Jesse stepped towards her but stopped. “Why did you summon me now?”

She looked up aghast. “I didn’t.”

“I heard you,” said Jesse, his expression softened. “It was faint but I heard you.”

Lucie shook her head. “Jesse, I promise you that I did not, or if I had, I hadn’t meant to.”

Jesse opened his mouth to reply when he looked to the kitchen doors. “Someone’s coming.” 

Lucie waited for the doors to swing open to reveal her mother, or father, or Matthew coming to retrieve her after being gone for too long. The air in front of the door rippled, like heat rising on pavement, until the form of a man materialized out of the haze. He was dressed in a rain soaked driver’s uniform, but his back was bent out of shape and his right leg curved out at an unnatural angle.

“Martin?” Lucie balked, recognizing the man that has driven her carriage since she was a child.

Lucie and Jesse both moved towards the ghost from either side of the room. The water that dripped from his coat splashed onto the floor and instantly dissolved into mist. 

“What’s happened to you?” Lucie demanded.

Martin looked between them as if he wasn’t all together sure how he’d come to be standing in front of them. “I was told by others that you would be able to see me; that you would be able to help.” He looked down at his hands. “I feel so strange. Everything and nothing at the same time.”

“Martin?” Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized that he was dead; a ghost standing in her kitchen as he had all of her life. Always casually slipping in to steal a fresh biscuit behind Bridget’s back with only crumbs and Lucie’s giggles left to give him away. He would listen to her stories on long drives and praise her for her prose. He’d laugh in all the right places and made her promise to sign a copy of her first published work, so he could keep it on his mantle. “What happened to you?”

“I was taking Mr. and Miss Carstairs to the London Portal when we were attacked.”

“Cordelia.” Lucie rushed forward. “Where is Cordelia?”

“I don’t know—“ Martin’s body began to flicker and wain, “I don’t have much time. I’m not supposed to be here, you see, but I fear something terrible may have happened. Something truly, truly terrible.”

Lucie burst through the library doors, the hem of her dress wet from her cup of water and her face noticeably pale.

The previous occupants of the room where joined by three more: Christopher stood beside Magnus surveying the bracelet and Thomas towered next to Matthew. Anna Lightwood was holding Church like a baby beside the fireplace. They all looked to her as she entered.

“It’s Cordelia.” Lucie shouted, her hand gripped the wall to keep her stable. “She’s been attacked.”

The room fell silent except for the small yet noticeable ting of metal hitting stone. Lucie’s eyes, along with everyone else’s, looked down at James’s feet where the bracelet now rested half on the toe of his boot and half on the floor. 

[noncanonlove]

Trust

This piece is a companion piece of Compromises and its predecessor Choices.

Draco tightened the knot down until the silk blindfold was snug, but still comfortable. He gently tapped the tails with his wand, satisfied now that they wouldn’t budge until he removed them.

He spun her around and looked her over. Jeans, a jumper, her favorite fall boots and her Gryffindor scarf. He inhaled secretly, silently, and caught a whiff of himself on her. Once he scrutinized her more closely he could just see a bit of a t-shirt underneath the jumper at the collar. Must be one of his, but he couldn’t understand why she was wearing it. Neither had gone anywhere since the day before last.

He looked over the loaded clothes hamper and peeked into the breast pocket of his coat, ensuring that the picnic basket was still there before shrinking and adding the hamper in there with it, charming the pocket closed afterwards.

She jumped slightly when he closed his hands around her shoulders, a grin shooting to her lips as he directed her through the house and out to the back yard where his broom waited. At the presence of its owner, it practically vibrated until he took it in hand. Hermione had went stiff as he mounted it and wouldn’t so much as budge when he went to guide her onto it.

“Draco Malfoy, is that a broom you’re trying to get me on?” she asked somewhat shrilly.

Great Merlin, she’d flown a thestral bare back to London and here she was afraid of a little broom ride with him. Well, according to Potter, with literally anyone, but still.

He dismounted, leaving the broom hovering next to them. He spun her to face him, his hands moving up to cup her face.

“Would I ever, ever let anything happen to you?” he asked quietly.

“Well no, but,” she said hesitantly, getting cut off by Draco, who knew better than to let her get anywhere.

“Would I not give my very life for yours?” he stroked her cheeks tenderly as he asked.

“Yes, of course you would,” she murmured, rubbing her nose against his before he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“Don’t you trust me?” He replied, just as quietly.

“Of course I do,” she said, shoulders sagging.

If she’d seen the way he brightened at his win she’d surely have smacked him.

Draco took a brief moment to savor the victory as he turned her back into position to mount the broom after he got back on it.

He’d made good on his promise to her in the bedroom three weeks ago and admittedly life had gotten largely better and dare he say, almost to how he remembered it before all of this Veela absurdity had awoken inside him.

He could only imagine what Hermione really thought, deep down, about his need to have this be as close to a normal relationship as possible, but it was important to him. He’d never admit it even under threat of the cruciatus, but ever since his father had told him in detail about how one day he would court and woo a woman to become his wife he’d secretly been dreaming up plans for when the time came and there was no way he was abandoning them now. Hermione was worth courting properly regardless of the circumstances. At Draco’s request Lucius had recounted his own courting process, including as many details as he could remember. It was easily one of Draco’s favorite memories, how they’d sat before the fire together over tea and Lucius had become unusually unguarded.

He shook off the memories as he got himself situated.

Draco maneuvered her onto the broom in front of him, settling her as best as he could before he kicked off. Biting his lip not to laugh at her panicked squeal, but it was likely she felt it as his chest shook with it if the slap to the thigh was any indicator. He floated not five feet off the ground, pausing to get her sorted first.

He’d made to remove a hand from the handle but she’d grabbed his arm in a death grip once he’d lifted it no more than six inches.

“Hermione, let go of my hand, please,” he asked.

“But-” she was interrupted.

“I thought you said you trusted me,” he said, inflecting a bit of hurt into his voice, an old habit of his to soothe her into letting him have his way.

He could tell it was with great effort that she peeled her fingers off of his person, trembling like a leaf. He pressed a kiss of thanks to the back of her neck as he slid his arm firmly around her waist, bringing her tightly against him.

Apparently this was the right move because he felt her slowly relaxing against him infinitesimally. She laid her head back on his shoulder, still leaning snugly against him, and took a deep breath in and out.

He guided the broom higher in the air and looked at the view, saddened that she couldn’t enjoy the glorious fall evening. It made him resolve to take her on more broom rides until she realized that with him, at least, it could be a good experience.

She’d tucked her face against his neck and had been breathing him in during the ride, which pleased something within him. It was blissfully satisfying for Hermione to seek comfort in him, especially in that manner.

He’d guided them easily across the forest until he spotted the clearing he’d been to earlier in the day while she’d been out.

They touched down with ease, he helping her back to her own two feet before dismounting and propping it against the enormous old oak.

She waited quietly, tilting her head this way and that to try to determine if she could figure anything out about their location based on sound alone.

He unshrunk everything and set up the picnic, thrice charming the blanket to be cushioned before he turned back to her and removed her blindfold.

She gasped as she looked around the area. They were beneath an enormous, old oak tree in a large clearing surrounded by trees that had changed to a myriad of colors with the season and were slowly losing their leaves, some of which floated across the surface of the small pond. It was completely silent and so she guessed how far they were removed from anything. Her eyes drifted across the fairy lights that had been placed all along the branches above them as well as the trunk of the tree, then followed the large circle of wide, squat urns that were filled with bluebell flames.

It wasn’t dark yet, but she could tell that the area would be well lit even after the sun went down. Her eyes drifted to the picnic blanket he’d set up, feeling warmth bloom in her chest. It filled her in lazy tendrils and she couldn’t stop the stupid, happy grin from curling across her mouth. Her hand squeezed his and she decided that the broom ride had been worth it.

He could feel her happiness and appreciation tingle at the edges of his consciousness, basking in it before leading her to the blanket. They sat close together and he served her a small plate with a bit of all the offerings before pouring them wine.

They slowly ate, talking about any and everything. She regaled him of tales from Hogwarts, particularly of how they’d rescued buckbeak, to his exaggerated, plaintive sigh. She’d laughed hard at that, throwing hear head back with it, as if he could keep the grudge that long. He couldn’t stop his own silly grin as he drank her in.

He signaled her to excuse him a moment as her laughter began to die down. He retrieved a small stereo from behind the tree and charmed it on. The dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald and the accompanying 50′s jazz horns filled the area, to her great surprise. He returned to the blanket and offered her his hand, silently asking for a dance.

She let him pull her up before sliding her arms around his neck. Another smile curled her mouth as his warm hands rested on her hips, pulling her against him as they swayed, heads tucked against one another.

Many songs later she looked up and marveled. It was fully dark, but much to her earlier guess, the area was still well lit. She couldn’t stop the thought of how she hoped her wedding one day would look similarly enchanting, a dreamy expression drifting across her features. She felt something else too, a hint of power that told her that this area was rich in old magic. Sacred, something whispered in her mind and suddenly the date meant even more important to her. Nobody had ever done anything remotely like this before and it made her fall that much more in love with him.

“May I kiss you?” he murmured.

She nodded and then his hot mouth was pressed against hers, gently at first, then ever more hungry, as if he were a man starved. Her hands tangled themselves in his silky hair as his hands splayed across her back and held her against him.

He broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as they breathed heavily.

“I would like to pleasure you,” he requested hoarsely.

She could only nod, stealing the opportunity to nip at his lips.

He walked her backwards over to where she discovered he’d summoned his favorite wood and leather wing back chair. Somehow, amongst the flickering lights and the fall foliage it looked like it belonged there, a throne drenched in magic.

He undressed her slowly, taking in the sight of her as if he’d never seen her before, paying each newly discovered area its due with his mouth and stroking hands. By the end, she was naked, small shivers running through her at the thrill of the situation.

He sat in a slouch, pulling her into his lap, situating her so that her back was to his chest, her legs draped across his thighs to hang along the outside of his. He pulled her hair to the side, his mouth exploring along her neck, nipping and kissing a range from her ear to her shoulder. His hands toured her reverently, up her outer thighs and sides, around her rib cage to cup her breasts and tease her nipples. He drunk in each and every groan, sigh and stuttering breath, watching her greedily.

“Put your hands on the arm rests,” he breathed against her.

She did as asked and he rewarded her by drifting his hands down across her quivering stomach, her pubic bone and along the tops of her thighs as far as he could reach. Her flesh was so sensitive from all of the focused attention he’d given her in combined with the old magic she still keenly felt. She watched under hooded eyes as his long, thin fingers drug trails up her inner thighs and across her lips. Her hips jerked against his when he parted her finally with one hand, stroking her exposed clit with the other before sliding down to her slit. She was already slick from his previous attention, to his immense pleasure. He gathered some on two fingers, returning them to her clit where he began to rub slow circles.

Her groans and keens spurred him to move faster, the one hand keeping her spread returning to toy with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples in turn between long, nimble fingers. She began squirming against his lap, making him hiss as she ground into his hard cock.

He nipped at her lobe again, “Let me pleasure you,” he requested hoarsely in her ear.

She made herself go limp against him, her knuckles white from gripping the arms. It was hard not to participate but somewhere in the back of her pleasure hazed mind she recognized this experience as a way to show that she trusted him as much as she professed to. She’d allowed him to undress her in a strange location, no questions asked and carnally pleasure her, asking her to rely on him to bring her satisfaction. Hermione had never been able to give up that much of her control before, ever.

Her moans turned to keens as he drove her ever closer to the brink. All it took to rip the screams from her throat and turn her vision white was a small bite to her shoulder, the action juxtaposing so sharply with all the other care he’d bestowed upon her. She’d expected him to stop but had to firmly stop herself from squirming against him again when he’d merely slowed down after she came back down.

The hand on her breast drifted down to stroke her lips for a moment before he slipped two fingers inside her, experimentally feeling her from this angle until he found the sweet place that made her keen again, paying rapt attention to it as he pumped his fingers in and out.

“Draco,” she whimpered, the desire to squirm strong.

He shushed her soothingly as his fingers increased their pace until she screamed for him again, fluids rushing out to coat his fingers.

After she began coming down he slowed his fingers to a stop and gathered her up, cuddling her close against him.

“Thank you,” he breathed into her hair.

“I should be the one thanking you,” she said drowsily.

“Nonsense, this is the best evening I’ve had in years,” he gently insisted.

She merely hummed in appreciation and burrowed closer against him.

He drank her in for a while as she rested content in his embrace. Finally he silently summoned all of their things and his broom, shrinking everything and returning it to a pocket. He pulled out the silk covered portkey from a pouch that had been stuffed down next to the cushion and held out the bauble for her. She looked slightly relieved to not have to ride a broom in this state and touched the small glass orb, blinking when she suddenly found them back in their living room.

He didn’t give her a chance to stand, however, carrying her to bed and tucking her in, stealing one more kiss before she was gone to dreams for a while. He lay there beside her, head propped up on one arm as he watched over her.

So few people trusted him and it amazed him to no ends that she did entirely.

He rubbed at his sternum absently. He’d been drawn to the area every time he’d went flying but had found himself increasingly compelled to land there. Once he had given in, he discovered why. Old magic of the purer variety was concentrated there and it was what had drawn him in. He couldn’t think of a better place for this evening aside from there. It had helped anchor the bond they were building together. It would have happened anyway, but this was special and rare. Something he couldn’t not give to her.

He looked forward to feeding that voracious need for knowledge on the subject that would come roaring back to life tomorrow. He would also have to talk to her about returning there for other things but he had a feeling she wouldn’t mind. Part 4/? of the series is Reminders

[donteattheappleshook]

Stone Hearts Chapter 11/13

Here we go, only one more chapter after this and then the epilogue. This one is over 10,000 words so I hope you enjoy it!

Summary:

Emma should have known. She should have known that they couldn’t just go to the underworld and not suffer any consequences. She should have known they’d bring something back with them.

Cannon Divergent after 5x21 Last Rites. No Hyde. No serum. No Evil Queen split. No prophecy. No season 6.

Read from the beginning on Ao3 or FFn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Rated M

Chapter 11

Belle led them to a small, makeshift camp they had set up underneath the Town Hall. Emma had been right, there were tunnels that spread out through the entire town, and the one below Regina’s office was dead center. Ariel explained how there were secret entrances all over Storybrooke, that the three of them had been using them to navigate their way around, to collect supplies, to raid Gold’s shop and even Regina’s vault. Nearly every establishment in the town had an access point. 

Emma tried not to think about how creepy it was that Regina had a secret way of getting into any building at any time during the first curse. But it made sense - the Evil Queen would have wanted to make sure she was in complete control of her little prison. 

She followed the women, leading Killian along behind her. The whole way he kept casting strange looks at Ariel and Emma couldn’t figure out why. She wondered if perhaps there were new memories emerging, if maybe he was remembering what he had done to her in the Enchanted Forest. She thought they had put their differences aside. Ariel wouldn’t look at him, avoiding his gaze as they made their way to the camp and settled there. She squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. Old grudges didn’t matter now. Those things had to be put behind them. They had a common enemy now. 

“How long have you guys been down here?” Emma asked, looking around. The camp was surprisingly nice and Emma realised that they must have been settled here for a while. Their collection of supplies and the small comforts they’d amassed was impressive. They had stockpiles of food and medicine and even toiletries. There was also a very comfortable looking little pile of blankets and pillows that made up a sleeping quarter, and a makeshift table built out of an old door and books stacked for legs. 

Emma shouldn’t have been surprised by the sheer amount of books scattered around the tunnel. Belle was a librarian after all. And, you know… the actual Belle from the Beauty and the Beast. But Emma’s heart started racing as she noticed the massive pile of spellbooks. They were scattered across the table, several open with notes in the margins and dog-eared corners. Belle had been researching - just as she had. Maybe together they could find a solution, learn how to break the curse. 

“Tink and I have been here… almost 9 weeks now I think,” Belle told them. “We found Ariel on one of our raids a little over a week ago.” 

“I came to visit and couldn’t figure out where everyone had gone,” Ariel explained. “It was like a ghost town. I didn’t know what had happened but then I saw Belle and Tinkerbelle and they told me about the attack. I stayed to help them fight.”

Nine weeks, just over two months. Emma did the math in her head, trying to put together how much time had passed. Weeks and days had become a blur, irrelevant in her life but she thought back. Killian had been taken six weeks after the attack - she’d never forget that date - and then she, Ruby, Henry and David had survived on their own for two more without him, plus the week she’d just spent in captivity… that meant…

“You guys have been here the whole time? Since the attack? Nobody’s found you?” Had it happened? Had they finally found a safe place? A real one?

Belle nodded. “Hardly anyone knows about these tunnels. Those who did have forgotten. Rumple -” Her voice caught. “The Dark One didn’t even know about them.”

“How did you find them?” 

Belle shrugged. “I found one by accident once when I was working in the library. I didn’t think it was smart to share their existence. I was planning on finding a way to seal them off, in case a villain ever wanted to make use of them. I’m glad now that I didn’t.” She looked up at Hook who was still holding Emma’s hand. “I was going to ask Killian what he thought, see if he could find a way to destroy them. But then everything happened.” 

She looked at him sadly, and Emma realised that maybe Belle had missed him too. Hook however, was still fixated on Ariel, who was looking uncomfortable under his gaze. What was wrong with him? Was it because Ariel had threatened her? Was there more bad blood between them than Killian had told her? Was it enough that even now, buried under the stone around his heart, he remembered, or felt, some sort of animosity?

Emma set her bag down in the middle of the table, reaching in and taking out the food she’d grabbed before leaving the house as well as the other supplies. Killian stood behind her as she did, closer than he had been standing before and she felt the strange sense that he was being protective, watching her back. He didn’t know them. She’d told him to trust them but maybe it would take him time without his memories. She tried not to think of how it warmed her heart a little to know that he was still looking out for her.

“Here,” she said, gesturing at them. “Add these to your stocks. If we’re staying with you then we should at least pool our resources. 

“Thank you,” Belle said, and Tink and Ariel collected the supplies and started dividing them into the neat little stacks and towers they had built further along the far wall. Emma started to leaf through some of the books on the table. No wonder she hadn’t been able to find much - Belle had hoarded all the spellbooks in Storybrooke. 

“Killian,” Belle started, but the man beside her didn’t react. 

“Hook,” Emma corrected, and he caught her eye. She nodded towards Belle and he looked at her. Belle raised a brow but didn’t comment on the name.

“Could you help them please?” she asked. Hook turned back to Emma, hesitant and unsure. He stepped a little closer to her, clearly suggesting he wasn’t planning on leaving her side. Belle smiled a little. “I just want to talk to Emma alone for a moment.” 

Hook looked at Emma again and she gave him a small smile. “It’s fine.” He hesitated another moment and then gathered the supplies that were still on the table and headed over to the other women. Emma watched as he awkwardly stood by them and handed them things as they asked for them. 

“That’s quite the bodyguard you’ve got there,” Belle commented. Emma nodded.

“I don’t know how it started. The King caught me, kept me in a cell and kept him outside my door as a guard. But… I don’t know… he didn’t act like the others, even from the beginning.”

“How so?”

“He - he listened to me. If I asked him not to touch me or to find out if Henry was safe, he listened, he did it. And then I started telling him stories about me and Killian and he asked to hear more.” Emma frowned, realising how clear it had been from the start that Hook wasn’t like the others, that there was something more human about him than she’d seen in any other stolen person. How had she missed it? How had she let herself be so blinded by her anger and her grief and hatred that she hadn’t seen the bits of this man coming through?

“When did it start?” Belle asked. Emma frowned, trying to think, to see clearly through all of her doubts and denials. 

“I think,” she remembered how he reacted the first time she’d seen him, when she’d refused to let him touch her and he’d hesitated, how he’d reacted the next day when she’d gotten angry with him and he’d gone to check on Henry. “I think it was right from the start. I yelled at him and -” An amused, knowing smile crossed Belle’s face. “What?” Emma demanded. Belle pressed her lips together, trying to school her features but doing a poor job.

“Killian’s always had a type, hasn’t he?” she said. Emma frowned at her. “You know, we used to talk about you sometimes, when he would come visit me in the library or on his ship.” 

Belle had been staying on the Jolly Roger since they’d come back from the Underworld and her father had woken her from her sleeping curse. It had been one of the few places she’d felt safe from her husband after she learned she was pregnant. Emma and Regina had put up the protection spells themselves. Killian would go there some nights to spend time with her, to talk about books and the Enchanted Forest. But she knew he also went to make sure she was safe. She wondered if that was where she’d hidden when the first attack had happened.

“He told me that the first time he realised he liked you was when you threatened his life.” She smiled a bit and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “He said you tied him to a tree?” 

Emma shrugged. “It’s a long story.” 

Belle laughed. “The point is, Killian liked you because you were strong and you fought him. You stood up to him and challenged him - not many people have done that, you know.” Emma smiled. She did know that about Kilian. I quite fancy you from time to time, when you’re not yelling at me... Yeah right. “Maybe, this version of him isn’t so different,” Belle continued. “Maybe you yelling at him sparked something, found its way into the feelings that had been locked up. Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe,” Emma agreed then hesitated. She looked over at where Killian was now standing in front of a stack of books. He ran his fingers over the spines carefully. Belle followed her gaze and smiled curiously. “Something else changed,” Emma said. "Today." She looked back at Belle. “He’s started remembering things.”

“Like what?”

“He knew who Ruby was. He remembered Regina’s apple tree… he remembered his name - sort of.”

“Did anything happen today? Anything that could have triggered it?”

Emma blushed. “I kissed him.”

The smile Belle gave her was understanding and a little sad. “He’s your true love, Emma. Even if he’s buried under darkness and stone. And you’re the product of true love - that’s a powerful combination. Maybe you reached that part of him that’s trapped, helped him break through.”

“Like with Graham,” Emma said quietly to herself, remembering how kissing Graham had sent him on a quest to find his heart, believing he was someone else - he’d been right, she just hadn’t known it then. 

“Who?”

“Nevermind.” She didn’t want to get into that particular tragedy. She had enough loss to focus on already. “So what have you found out about the curse?” she asked, looking at the books again. Belle didn’t push her.

“It’s called the Stone Heart curse. It creates a prison around someone’s heart, locking away all their memories and emotions - effectively erasing their personality. In theory it kills the soul and leaves behind a sort of living-dead corpse, a shell that the one who cast it can feed orders into. The cursed are loyal only to that person, They’ll do whatever they ask. I think his cauldron is some kind of conduit. He can use it to communicate with all of them, tell them where to go and what to do.”

Killian came to join them now and Emma couldn’t help the way her body reacted when he walked up to her side and placed a hand on her back, as though it was something he did all the time. “Have you found a way to break it?”

Belle shook her head. “No. You’ve come closer to that than any of us have. The thing I don’t understand is what the King’s purpose is. Why is he doing this? What is the point of creating a living dead army if there’s no war to fight? There has to be more.”

Emma hung her head. “He was looking for me. For my heart.” 

Her eyes widened. “Your heart? But I thought your heart was protected.”

“It is. That’s why he kept me prisoner. He said he needed the heart of the product of true love and he wanted me to figure out how to remove it. The way he said it was weird though.” Emma paused, trying to remember the exact phrasing Gold had used, knowing that any details they had could help. “He said he needed 'the heart that belonged to the product of true love’.” 

Belle frowned, muttering to herself under her breath. “The heart that belongs to the product of true love.” Her eyes snapped up to Emma’s, shock registering on her face. She dashed across the tunnel - as much as she could in her current state - and headed over to another stack of books. 

“What is it?” Emma asked, following. Killian followed with her, like a magnet who was being pulled along. 

“I’ve heard that before. It was something I found Rumple looking into before we went to the Underworld. She tried to grab a book but it was weighed down by a few others that were out of her reach. Emma went to help but Hook was quicker, lifting them off with one hand. “Thank you,” Belle said with a little shock in her voice. She headed to the table and sat down, opened the book and flipped through the pages. She stopped, reading over one of them quickly. Her face lit up then, with success and surprise, and then it was replaced with fear and panic. 

“This is what he’s doing,” Belle said, turning the book around so Emma could see the pages. “Your heart is the primary ingredient in a spell that will allow him to break the laws of magic.”

Emma’s heart raced. “But that could mean…”

“He could do anything. Anything he wants. Bring people back from the dead, perform magic without a price, live forever… make someone love you.” 

Emma’s chest tightened, thinking of how Gold had been helping the King. She looked at the sadness on Belle’s face and reached for her hand. “We’ll save Gold. I know that he’s under the control of the King but if we can get his dagger we can -”

Belle stopped her. “He’s not under the King's control. Rumple has his dagger locked away where no one could ever find it, not even me. He -” she stumbled, her words catching in her throat. “He made a deal with him, of his own will.”

“How do you know?”

“He came to me the day before the attack. He found me on the Jolly and asked me to come back to him. I said no.” Tears were welling in her eyes and Emma’s heart went out to her friend, proud of her strength and her decision to choose herself despite how much it must have hurt to give up on the man she’d loved. “He said I would. That he’d find a way. That somehow, I’d love him again.” Belle’s tears fell. She put a hand over her swollen stomach. “That’s what he wants. To make me and the baby love him.” 

“Hey,” Emma said, taking her hand again between her own. “We won’t let him. We’ll figure out how to break this curse and then we’ll find his dagger. We’ll stop him. I promise.”

“He’d also… Emma, he could bring Neal back.” Emma fought against the way her heart raced, against the way a small part of her wanted that, not for her but so that Henry could know his father, so that Killian could see Balefire again. She knew how much his loss had hurt both of them. 

But she couldn’t let herself think that way. That kind of thinking made her just as bad as the King and Gold. It wasn’t worth the sacrifice of giving them that kind of power just to bring him back. She shuddered though, fearing what she might be willing to do if it meant bringing Killian back. She reached out for his hand. He was here. He was coming back to her. 

“We’ll stop them,” she said again and Belle let out a heavy breath. 

“Thank you.” She moved to stand. “I’ll go look through some of the books we found in Regina’s vault. Maybe there’s something more about what’s happening to Killian. Maybe we can find a way to -” She stopped. She’d been in the process of standing, awkward and clearly difficult for her to do from her low seat when suddenly Hook was at her elbow, steadying her, letting her use him for leverage as she got to her feet. She blinked at him. “Thank you,” she said and he nodded, letting her go. 

Emma’s heart leapt into her throat. It was another sign that Killian was in there. She’d been worried, still, that maybe some of Hook’s actions had only been because of this new version of him’s apparent affection for her. But Killian had loved Belle, Hook didn’t know her. But he was looking at Belle now with the same protectiveness and openness that Emma saw when he looked at her. She looked at the other woman and knew she’d seen it too. 

“Do you want to help us?” Belle asked and Hook cocked his head. “We’re going to look through as many of these books as we can to try and figure out what happened to you.”

“Why?” he asked. 

“So we can fix you,” Emma said. Hook looked at her now. 

“Am I broken?” 

She felt her gut twisting. Shit. Nice job, Emma. Belle stepped back, making a point to look very interested in the book on the table, offering them some privacy. How could she explain this to him? How could she explain that he wasn’t who he thought he was, that there was someone else trapped inside and that she wanted that person back? How did she explain that without hurting him?

“You know how you told me about your dream?” she asked.

“Yes. You were there. And the man.” 

“Yeah, that’s right. I think it was a memory. You had all of your memories stolen from you and we want to get them back so that you can remember everything else about your life, who you were before the King made you.”

He frowned, looking at the floor, taking in her words and then looked up at her again. There was that openness again. “Will I still remember you?”

Emma smiled, her eyes watering at the sweetness and the concern on his face. Yes, you’ll remember me, she wanted to scream. You’ll remember who you are and you’ll be the man I love again. She only nodded, worried that her voice would betray her.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.” She was going to step away, going to go find a book and get started, but the way he was looking at her kept her where she was. He was still an open book, even now. He looked so worried, so unsure, but still, he trusted her, believed that she wouldn’t wrong him. 

He still wasn’t Killian, not yet, but when she got him back - and she would get him back - she wanted to remember this version of him too, keep him in her mind with the other versions of him that she’d been lucky enough to know. And for now, for now this version of him needed her, needed her to believe in him, to protect him, to reassure him that things would be okay despite the risk he was taking. 

She took a step towards him, noticed the way that longing returned to his eyes the moment she was close, saw the way his breathing picked up just a fraction. She put her hand on his shoulder, balanced herself as she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek. He turned into her touch, the same way Killian always did, and she smiled. He followed her as she pulled away, leaning forward, his hand brushing her arm but not taking it. 

He stood there, watching her as she and Belle made their way over to where Ariel and Tink were. “You’re right,” Belle said and Emma glanced up at her. “Something is definitely happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Tink said then. “I didn’t know. But I can see it now. I can see the way he’s looking at you.” 

“It’s okay,” Emma assured her. “I get it.” Tink still looked a little ashamed. “Really. I do.” She nodded.

“If it was going to be anybody,” Tink started, “it would be him. I’ve never seen anyone survive the way he does, never seen anyone fight that hard for the people he loves. I’m sorry I doubted him. I just -”

“I know. I miss him too,” Emma said and Tink nodded, her lips pulling into a thin line, fighting the emotion on her face. 

“Then let’s get him back,” Ariel said. 

Hook joined them and helped them carry as many books as possible to the table. They grabbed everything they thought could be useful. In addition to her spellbooks, Belle had amassed an impressive collection of storybooks. None of them like Henry’s, but novels and fairytales and myths and legends - anything that had some link to magic. 

For a brief moment, Emma was worried about whether or not Hook could read but he took a book at random and opened it, getting to work. But he didn’t stop casting glances at Ariel. She didn’t notice, her own head buried in her own book, but Emma did. She wished she knew what memory he had or what information he’d been given that made him so anxious around the mermaid. 

“What’s with you?” she whispered to him and he caught her eye. “Why are you glaring at Ariel?”

He continued to stare. “She seems… familiar,” was all he said in answer. 

“That’s because you know her - or you did know her,” she tried to explain. He frowned. “She’s one of us,” Emma said. “She’s on our side.” He didn’t look convinced. “Look, you and her… the old you and her had some issues. But you need to ignore that now, okay?” 

He relented finally, nodding. They returned to their task, all of them focused and frustrated as they found useless spell after useless spell. She had learned how to freeze a heart, how to crush one, how to control one, how to connect one to another, all sorts of different ways to curse hearts - but nothing about how to free one, how to chip away at the stone. 

She was getting antsy. Her leg bouncing rapidly under the table as she continued to be let down by book after book. She felt like she was about ready to scream. They’d already been at it for hours and the closest they’d gotten was a spell on how to draw water from a stone. Unhelpful. She’d also found the note that Gold had refered to. The only way to remove a protected heart, the heart of the product of true love, was for the one who was protected to break the spell. Of course it didn’t say how someone would go about doing that - no, that would be too easy. 

She felt a hand fall over her own, looked up to see Hook, his eyes still on whatever page he was reading, but his fingers closing over hers on the table between them. She didn’t even think he’d done it intentionally, like it was a reflex, an impulse, but it calmed her almost instantly, the calluses of his fingertips familiar and the warmth of his skin spreading through to hers. She turned her hand under his and he nearly startled before letting her intertwine their fingers. She smiled. So it had been a reflex.

“I think I need a break,” Belle announced finally and they took that as permission to stand and stretch. Belle looked at her. “You look exhausted.”

“Thanks,” Emma deadpanned, only half joking.

Belle laughed. “I only meant you look like you could use some rest - especially him.” 

She gestured towards Hook and Emma took a closer look at him. Belle was right. He was pale and dark shadows were beginning to bloom under his eyes. She remembered how she’d woken to him crying out, loud enough that she could hear him down the hall, how he’d been sweating and tossing and turning when he woke up. They hadn’t had a particularly long day, but it had been a big one, especially for him. It was funny, she thought, she hadn’t remembered ever seeing him look tired before. She hoped it was another sign, another thing that proved he was becoming more human. 

“Maybe you’re right,” she agreed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, regardless of how tired she was, but she wanted him to. She was also pretty sure that he wouldn’t go to sleep unless she went with him. He seemed pretty opposed to leaving her side. 

“You should rest too, Belle,” Tink said. Belle started to protest but the fairy gave her a stern look. “Your baby needs you to take care of yourself. Now go. Lie down and read it one of those bedtime stories you’re so fond of and try sleep a little. Ariel and I will keep watch.” Belle agreed but begrudgingly, putting her hand on her stomach and stroking it protectively. 

Belle led them to the pile of blankets and pillows they’d converted into a cozy little corner. Killian didn’t protest when Emma rose and pulled him along with her and she worried that maybe he was more exhausted than he was letting on. Maybe all of those nights not sleeping outside her door were catching up with him now. 

Belle lay down first, propping herself up against one of the walls and pulling a large book from under one of the pillows. Her Handsome Hero, Emma mused. This must have been the bedtime story Tink had mentioned. She smiled a little, it was fitting that Belle would start reading to her baby before he or she was even born. 

Emma lay down next to her and groaned at how nice it felt to lie down. She felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. They were safe - for the time being, a voice in her head reminded her, but she ignored it. They were somewhere that the King didn’t know existed, somewhere Gold didn’t know existed, and they had allies. They weren’t in this alone anymore. And Killian was coming back, with every passing moment he did something else that assured her that she’d find him. She just had to keep digging, keep looking for him, help him find his way back to her. 

Hook stood above her looking uncomfortable. There wasn’t room for much more than three people on the pillows and she wondered if he was remembering how she’d sent him away last night… but then, she’d also stayed with him until morning. He looked torn, like he wanted to join her but didn’t know if he was allowed, like he was waiting for permission or a command. She didn’t want to give him a command. She wanted him to decide what he wanted.

She sat up. “Are you gonna join me?” she asked and he looked at her, eyebrows shooting up in surprise for a moment before he nodded. He sat next to her and hesitated for a moment before lying down. He seemed to be doing his best to keep his distance, to avoid touching her. She didn’t like that. She took one of his arms that was folded over his chest and stretched it out on the blanket so that she could lay her head on it. She didn’t think she would sleep but the smell of leather and the familiar feel of his shoulder under her cheek might help. 

He hesitated for a moment and then slowly, the arm that she was using as a pillow curled around her, holding her to him. He was still for a long time and Emma listened as his breathing slowed and then evened out. She closed her eyes, listening to his breathing and to Belle’s story as she read aloud in a whisper, trying to find a little rest. It was useless. 

She rolled onto her side, facing Belle and froze when she felt Hook move again, rolling onto his side with her and wrapping his other arm around her, pulling her back against his chest. Her heart raced against her ribs. She looked up at Belle who had stopped reading and was looking at them with wide eyes. Emma frowned.

“What is it?” Belle asked, speaking quietly so as not to wake him. Emma took a moment, unsure how to explain the worries that still plagued her. She could barely explain them to herself, they were so confusing, everything about this was confusing. 

“I just… I don’t know what’s Killian and what’s Hook. When he does things like this I don’t know if it’s Killian breaking through or if it’s this new person developing… feelings.” It felt strange to say but she couldn’t deny the way that Hook had reacted to her, even before the kiss, before the crack in his heart. 

“Maybe it’s both,” Belle said. “I’m pretty sure that any version of Killian would fall in love with you. Maybe Killian breaking through has allowed Hook to care about you on his own, as his own person - but I don’t think that means that Killian is any less there,” she said. Emma nodded and Belle gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s okay to like him like this too, Emma. It’s not betraying Killian to feel something for Hook.” 

And there it was. Exactly what she’d been afraid of. Because she did like him like this. Of course she wanted him back - all of him. But she couldn’t fight the growing affection she had for the version of him that was with her now. He was kind and he was good and he cared about her and he was still so very much Killian, despite not having his memories. 

She remembered the way she’d had the same battle when she met the shy, nervous deckhand, when she met Captain Hook in the past. Each time, every Killian she met, she couldn’t fight the pull she felt towards him, the connection. And each time it felt like a betrayal. She swallowed, guilt eating at her even now. 

Belle reached for her hand. “True love is a powerful thing,” she said. “It transcends everything - time, space, magic, curses. I think that you and Killian are just fated to love each other no matter the circumstances. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Think of it as a gift. Not everyone gets to experience love like that.” 

Emma nodded, some of the tightness in her chest lightening. She was right. She couldn’t imagine a version of Killian she couldn’t love. She’d known him at his darkest, both when they first met in the Enchanted Forest and when he was under the power of the dagger. But she still loved him. And now, this version was no different. He’d had the darkness inside of him but he’d fought it - he’d fought it for her. 

She took hold of his hand that was splayed over her waist, pulled it up to her chest and held it there between her own. No matter the time, the place, the circumstances - she loved him and she would always love him. She just needed him to remember that he loved her. 

Belle grunted sifting and arranging pillows around herself, grumbling that she could never get comfortable anymore. Emma smiled, remembering the hell it had been to sleep when she was in the later stages of her pregnancy with Henry. She felt a pang in her stomach thinking about him now, about how much she missed him, how she hoped he was safe. She needed to find a way to break this curse, to get back to him and make him forgive her. She’d lost him once, when she was young and too afraid to fight for him. She wouldn’t lose him again. 

Emma frowned, watching as Belle shifted again, thinking of Henry… she froze. She could feel the blood rushing from her face. Shit. Shit. “How long did you say you’d been here again?” she asked. Belle looked at her, frowning.

“A little over two months,” she answered. Shit. She looked back at Hook behind her, tried to do the math in her head. When she looked back at Belle she had another one of those understanding, sympathetic looks on her face. “How late are you?” she asked. 

She didn’t even know. She’d lost track of all sense of time and what was normal and what was human in the weeks that had passed since the attack. She tried to think of everything that had happened since, how exhausted she was all the time, the way her mood swung from one extreme to another, the fluttering feeling she’d gotten in her stomach, thinking it was pain or guilt or grief - she’d fainted in the hospital a few days ago. Fuck. She’d chalked it all up to stress, up to a reaction to the absolute hell she’d been living in. But what if it wasn’t just that? 

“Late enough,” she answered.

Her heart was racing, her ears ringing, she couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t do this again. Not alone, not without Killian. She sat up, shrugging Hook’s arms from her, feeling claustrophobic. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not here. Not when everyone she loved was slowly being taken away from her. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Belle tried to sooth her. “Believe me, I understand.” Emma looked at her, tried to calm her pounding heart as Hook stirred behind her. He rolled onto his back but didn’t wake. Belle settled her, told her to breathe and slowly, Emma’s hands stopped shaking. She thought of all the times she’d put herself in danger, the reckless lack of regard she’d had for her own life since the King arrived. And now to know it might not have been just her life she was risking… 

“I can’t think about it,” she said, doing everything in her power to push the thoughts away. She didn’t even know if she was pregnant. And she couldn’t be right now. There was too much - it was too much. She looked at where the man next to her still slept. “I can’t do this alone,” she said, turning to Belle. 

“You won’t. You have us. And you'll have him. I promise.” Belle frowned at Killian then and Emma couldn’t read her expression.

“What?” she asked. 

“Do you think he knew?” she said and Emma’s brows shot up. “Killian, I mean.”

“Why?”

“I just - I know the love you can have to your baby before it’s even born. I have it now. I’m sure you had it with Henry. The love between a parent and their child, that’s true love in its purest form. If he knew… then he’d be fighting his way back to two true loves - that’s a powerful pull. Enough to break a curse.” Belle looked at Killian again, tilted her head. “And even now, he’s so protective of you…” 

Had Killian known? Had he figured it out before she had? She wouldn’t put it past him. He was a very perceptive man. And he wouldn’t have said anything, not in the state she was in then - he knew her, he knew she couldn’t handle this, not now. But he’d protected her, kept her safe, kept her healthy… He was continuing to do it now, even buried under rock and darkness. 

Later, when Emma had had a bit of time to come to grips with the possibility of being a mother again, and to rise above the panic and the fear that possibility brought with it, Belle asked her how she felt about it. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you want to be pregant? Do you want to have another child? Are you happy?”

That was a hard question. If she’d been asked two months ago she’d have said yes. Of course, yes. She loved Killian, she knew he wanted this, she wanted it with him. They were in love, happy, together. But now, now she didn’t know. She was too afraid of having to do it alone, too afraid that they wouldn’t defeat the King before this kid showed up and then what kind of world would that be for her to raise it in? 

“I don’t know.” 

Belle nodded. “I understand,” she said, her hand coming to her stomach. “But, life goes on doesn’t it? Despite everything, all the horribleness that gets thrown at us, it’s still life. We need to seek out the good and hold onto it or we’ll lose ourselves to the bad.” 

Emma nodded. She tried to think of how she’d feel if this wasn’t happening now. She was happy. It was a confused, complicated kind of happy, one that brought with it more anxiety than joy, but she was happy. She looked at the man laying next to her, the one who had protected her since she’d met him. She loved him so much that it hurt. She loved them both and she needed to do whatever she could to keep this version of him safe and save Killian. She needed Killian to share this with her, knew how much it would mean to him, how much he wanted it. Emma reached out, brushed his cheek gently. 

“Come back to me,” she begged for what felt like the hundredth time. She lay her head down on his chest, wrapped her arm around him and held him tight. “Come back to us.” 

***

They were woken later by Ariel shaking her shoulder gently. Emma blinked up at her, wondering what time it was, how long she’d slept. “What is it?” she asked and a playful smirk crossed Ariel’s face. 

“Want to go on a raid?” she asked. Emma looked up, Belle and Tink were sitting at the table again, discussing something intensely. 

“A raid where?” Emma asked, sitting up slowly, trying not to wake Hook. 

“I found something.” Emma’s heartrate picked up, feeling suddenly very awake. Ariel smiled. “One of the books made mention of a magical object that could break any curse. A dagger that can sever magic from an afflicted person’s body.” 

Holy shit, this was really something! Something that could help them, could maybe free Killian, free her parents, free everyone. She leapt up, jostling Hook as she did and he bolted to a seating position, looking between the two women. She ignored the way he wrapped a protective arm around her, shielding her from whatever threat he thought might have woken him. 

“Where is it?” Emma asked, brushing Hook’s arm away and standing. He stood with her.  

Ariel’s smile widened. “On the Jolly Roger.” 

“Wait, what,” she demanded, shocked and confused. “Killian had it?” 

Ariel shook her head. “Not Killian, Blackbeard. When he had possession of the ship he hid treasure all over it. I remember seeing a dagger that looked exactly like the one described in the book. I don’t even think he knew what it was, just another prize.” 

“What are we waiting for?” she asked. “Let’s go!” Hook moved to follow her and she hesitated, not sure if he would be a help or a hindrance, not sure what was going on between him and Ariel, but also not wanting to be separated from him - not again. Ariel must have seen her hesitation.

“Bring him,” she said. “Maybe the Jolly Roger will help spark some memories. And,” she hesitated, like she felt bad about her next words. “He knows how they think. If we run into any shells he could help.” 

Emma turned to him. “Will you come with us?” she asked. He nodded, took her hand. She smiled. “Good.” 

The tiny, hesitant smile he gave her in return was familiar and made her heart race even now. She would be careful, she promised herself. She had two people to protect now. But she needed to go, had to go if there was a chance that this dagger could save him. She nodded for Ariel to lead the way. 

“Be careful,” Belle said as they headed to the stockpiles and armed themselves. Emma was happy to find a gun. She could use a sword but at the end of the day, a gun was familiar and more reliable. She tucked it into the back of her jeans. She tried not to smile as Hook found a sword and secured it to his hip.

“Take care of her,” Ariel told Tink. 

Belle frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not a child,” she said. 

“No, but you’re carrying one,” Tink reminded her. She still didn’t look pleased. 

“We’ll take the tunnels,” Ariel told her as they headed down in the opposite direction of the way they’d come in this morning. “If we magic there in broad daylight we could draw their attention.” Broad daylight? Had they slept all night? 

“There’s an entrance that comes up in the warehouse,” she continued. “If we’re quick, and careful, we should be able to stay hidden through the covered docks, climb down to the water and swim to the Jolly Roger.” Emma wanted to groan. Of course the mermaid would suggest swimming. At least it wasn’t winter. 

They made their way through the tunnels until they reached what Ariel said was the right exit. Thankfully Storybrooke wasn’t a very big town and Ariel seemed to know her way well enough. They came up through a trap door in the harbormaster’s office, making sure to crack it open and be sure nobody was around before climbing through. 

“Be careful. They usually have three guards to each post,” Emma said.

“Four,” Hook corrected and she turned to him. “Four guards. Three visible and one hidden. For backup. Or to deliver a message back.” She raised a brow at him, not only was that the most he’d spoken yet, but she was surprised at how much he knew, she’d somehow forgotten he was one of them so recently. He only shrugged. 

“Okay, four. Do you know where they are?” she asked. He smiled and it was the most Killian-like smile she’d seen since she met him, full of mischief and a little cocky. He nodded. 

“They guard the shore, not the water.” 

That meant they were behind them. They wouldn’t have to face any of the shells if they avoided making enough comotion to draw their attention. Emma smiled at him and he looked so proud it made her smile more. 

Carefully, they made their way down to the edge of the water and ditched their boots. Emma tried not to make a sound as the freezing cold water hit her. She could handle this. The Jolly wasn’t far off, maybe a few hundred feet. She was a strong swimmer and so was Killian and, well, Ariel was a mermaid so they should be fine. They allowed her a moment to get used to the cold, to lose the heaviness in her limbs and be able to breathe easily again before they started making their way to the Jolly. 

They reached the side of the ship and grabbed hold of the nets that hung down it’s side, starting the slow, steady climb onto the deck. Hook climbed expertly to her annoyance, occasionally reaching out to steady her with his hand on her back when she lost her balance on the uneven terrain that moved every time she reached up. He was doing it one handed too. 

She was reminded of the beanstalk, of how they’d climbed together then, how this wasn’t so different. Both of them on a quest to find a magical object that would reunite her with those she loved. Killian was still Hook then, still someone who had only just chosen her over the evil he’d to whom he'd promised his allegiance. She knew better now though. She could trust him. And she would. 

They finally made it on deck, Emma taking just a moment to flop down on the wood, exhausted. Hook reached it just after her, smiling down from his spot standing next to her head. He reached his hook down and she grabbed it, let him haul her up to her feet. 

“We should split up,” Ariel said. “Search the ship. Blackbeard would have hidden it well. He didn’t like anyone coming near the things he’d stolen. Especially anything that could be valuable.” 

Emma nodded, and Ariel suggested she start with the deck and Emma with the captain’s cabin since she was the one here most familiar with it at the moment. It was understood that Hook would come with her. Ariel said she’d start with the healm, knowing that Blackbeard had a habit of hiding things where he could keep them close. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself?” she asked.

Ariel brushed her concerns off. “If anything happens I’ll jump overboard. They won’t find me in the water. I can swim away or stay under until they give up.” 

Emma agreed reluctantly and she and Hook made their way carefully down below deck. She felt safer now that they weren’t out in the open, but she still worried for Ariel out there alone. They were in the galley, the crew’s sleeping quarters to the left and Killian’s room to the right. She figured his room would be the best place to start. 

Hook was looking around with a strange expression on his face. It was the same look he’d had when they were in their home, in Regina’s office. Like he was trying to put the pieces together but couldn’t. She hoped it felt familiar, hoped it would spark something. 

She led him towards his room, only making it halfway down the narrow hall when Hook shushed her, his whole body going stiff. He reached for his sword. 

“Someone’s on deck,” he said. She heard it then, the creaking of the boards above them. Her heart leapt into her throat, her body suddenly on high alert. He was right, she could hear it, footsteps above them. Not Ariel’s, the helm was at the bow of the ship, the sounds were coming from the stern, but they were making their way to the front quickly.

“Are they usually on the ships?” she asked, her heart racing, hoping he’d have an idea of how many people they were facing. 

He shook his head, “Never.” 

Oh crap, she thought as she realised - They were looking for him. If they’d suddenly posted guards to the Jolly Roger then that meant that they were expecting him to come back, maybe expecting her to bring him back. She should have expected this, should have seen it coming. They needed to get off the ship. They needed to get to Ariel, save her before she was caught unawares. 

“Hurry,” she said. “We need to help her.” 

He jumped to action, heading back to the stairs and she rushed after him. They climbed back up on the deck, hiding for a moment in the stairs to try see how many there were. She could see three. Hadn’t he said four? That meant there was another somewhere. 

She motioned to two of them, indicating that he should take them on while she took the third. She should have grabbed a sword. She couldn’t use her gun now, it would draw too much attention. Stupid. She thought. How had she been so stupid? Hook nodded and headed up first. She followed after him. 

He cut down the first before he had time to make a sound. He was rounding on the second as Emma tackled the third, knockin him to the ground and whacking him in the head with the butt of her gun as hard as she could. His head fell against the wood with a hard thump. She looked back up and saw Hook standing over the second shell. She almost smiled before she heard the scream. 

Ariel. She and Hook cast a glance at each other before running off towards the sound. When they reached it there were two more, each holding one of her arms as she struggled in their grasp. Emma charged, gun raised, they’d been found out now anyway. She took a shot, getting one in the shoulder and wounding her enough that she flew back with the force of the bullet. 

She kept her distance as she circled the second one, keeping her back to the railing, trying to get a shot but he kept Ariel between them as a shield. She heard a sixth running towards them, saw as Hook whirled around to take him down, their swords clashing. But Hook was a better fighter, he was always the better fighter. She nearly had her shot. 

“Emma watch out!” Ariel screamed and she barely had time to follow her gaze to the woman she’d shot down, aiming her own gun straight at Emma’s heart. She  heard the shout of Hook’s ‘no’ echoing across the water, heard the crack of the bullet leaving the chamber. She waited for the impact but before it could come he was there, throwing himself between her and the bullet.

“Killian!” she screamed as he was thrown back by the force of it, falling over the railing and crashing into the water below. She didn’t even know if she screamed, she didn’t think, just threw herself over the edge after him. She hit the icy water, ignoring the way it constricted her lungs and numbed her limbs. She opened her eyes, searching. Where was he, where the fuck was he? 

She found him, sinking deeper, his eyes shut, his body lifeless, blood turning the water around his stomach red, seeping out into the darkness around him. She swam, kicked and dived, her lungs screaming at her, her eyes burning from the salt. Just get to him. She couldn’t lose him again. Not now, not like this. 

She reached him, wrapping her arm around his chest, under his arms and slowly making her way up to the surface. But he was too heavy. She had nothing to push off of and she was running out of air. The surface was too far away. She kept pushing, kept kicking but she knew she wouldn’t make it. 

If she hadn’t been underwater she would have laughed when she saw Ariel dive in beside them, saw her spot them and swim over. Arielgrabbed hold of one of Hook’s arms and Emma grabbed the other. Together, they heaved him up. 

Emma gasped as they broke the surface, not even taking a second to appreciate the air in her lungs because Hook hadn’t taken a breath. She leaned back, holding him to her chest, keeping his face out of the water. She put her fists to his sternum and squeezed harshly, a desperate, relieved sound leaving her when he spit out water, coughed and gasped desperately for breath. 

“Emma,” Ariel said, getting her attention. “Can you get us back to the tunnels?”

She nodded, focusing, struggling as she tried to balance calling on her magic, stretching it out to include Hook and Ariel, and focusing on keeping herself above water, on not panicking at the fact that Hook was still shot, still bleeding out, that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. It took a moment but the white smoke surrounded them and suddenly they collapsed to the ground, soaking wet, in the middle of the camp. 

“What happened?” Belle shouted, she and Tink rushing to their sides. Both of them turned their attention to Hook. He’d stopped coughing, his breathing coming in shallower and shallower bursts. Emma didn’t answer, let Ariel explain. She had to save Hook. 

You idiot, she thought. She wanted to scream at him. Why would you do that! He’d jumped in front of a fucking bullet for her, had nearly drowned, had nearly left her. She brought her hands to his stomach, over the wound there. She tried to rein in her panic at the amount of blood that stained her shaky hands, flowing out of him freely and quickly with each beat of his heart. He groaned at her touch but it was weak. 

Emma shut her eyes, focused on him, on Hook, Killian, whoever he was. It didn’t matter who she was saving. She needed them both. She loved him, all of him, and she focused on that love, let it pour out of her heart and into her blood, let it course through her veins and into her skin where she touched him. A golden glow shone there and she opened her eyes, watched as some of the paleness left his face, as his breathing evened out, the blood slowing. 

She lifted her hands, pulled open his shirt and vest so that she could look at the wound. It was gone. Not even a scar left. The only evidence it had been there at all was the blood that was slowly rolling off his stomach with the water. She broke down, finally let her fear and the fact that he’d almost died again crash over her. She fisted her hands in the open collar of his shirt and bent over him, let her forehead fall against his chest as a sob wracked her body. He was alive. He was alive. He was still here. 

She felt his arm come up around her, felt his hand rub soothing, and hesitant up her back and she remembered she was angry with him. How could he have been so careless, so reckless with his life? How could he have been so stupid? He’d nearly died, he’d nearly left her again. She wouldn’t have survived it. And now she wasn’t the only one who needed him anymore. 

She stood, storming off under the guise of wanting to wash the blood off her hands. She’d seen some wipes in one of the stockpiles and she found them, ripping the packet open and rubbing aggressively at the stains on her skin. There was so much of it. She’d almost lost him. She heard him coming up behind her but she didn’t turn around.  

“Thank you,” he said and she tensed. She didn’t want his thanks. She wanted him to not be a fucking idiot and throw himself in front of guns for her. She didn’t answer him, kept working on cleaning her hands. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. She felt the fury rising up inside of her, she couldn’t stop herself, she whirled on him.

“Yes, you did something wrong!” she snapped, anger taking the place of the fear and the pain that seeing him like that had caused. Anger was easier, anger didn’t hurt as much. “How could you do something so stupid, so dangerous?” she demanded. “You almost got yourself killed!” He looked down at his feet, worried the end of his hook. She stared at him, panting in her rage, waiting for him to say something, something she could yell at him for again. 

He looked at her and her breath caught in her throat. She knew that look. He was looking at her the way Killian always looked at her, the way he looked at her before she let him in, before she admitted she loved him, after he admitted he loved her. Her anger faded away, snuffed out by the affection and the dedication in his expression. It was overwhelming after not having been looked at like that for so long. 

“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” he said and her chest tightened. “Not you.” He stepped forward, always hesitant, always unsure. “I - I don’t understand it but,” he frowned, his face screwing up under the effort of trying to find the words. “You make my chest hurt,” he said and it was her turn to frown. “You make my chest hurt and my stomach twist and when you’re far away it hurts more.” He reached out, brushed her arm, let it trail down to her hand where he wrapped his fingers around hers. “When I touch you it stops hurting. I don’t want to let go.” He squeezed her fingers. “I couldn’t let you get hurt. I don’t know - I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.” Emma looked into his eyes and was nearly knocked back by the emotion there. “I need you,” he finished. 

It was a clumsy declaration, an awkward explanation. Killian had always been good with words, she was usually the one to stumble over her feelings. He didn’t understand what he was feeling but it didn’t matter, she did. He loved her. This version of him loved her, Hook did, and he had risked his life for her, to protect her. And she’d yelled at him. He loved her. She could feel tears stinging her eyes. Belle was right, any version of them, in any universe, they would find each other, they would love each other.

She reached for him, brought his lips down to hers and kissed him. She kissed him to say thank you, she kissed him to say she was sorry, and she kissed him to say she loved him - in a way that he would understand. His arms came around her as he pulled her close, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe but she didn’t care as his lips moved over hers with an intensity and a rightness that had been missing from their last kiss.

She felt it when it happened, felt the light burst from between them, the shock of magic that blew out, surged through her and filled the room, scattered out beyond the walls and out into the world. She stumbled back, knocked over by the force of it. She held on to him as he tumbled with her, trying to steady herself. When she looked at him again it was Killian looking back at her.

“Swan?” he said. 

Emma let out a sob, throwing herself at him with so much force that it knocked him back a step. He caught her, letting out a surprised ‘oomph’ when she pressed her lips to his again, kissing him over and over to make sure he was real. He was here. He was back. He’d come back to her. 

“I knew you’d do it, Emma,” he said when she released him so that she could wrap her arms around him, tuck her head under his chin and feel him pull her close, feel his fingers run through her hair. “I knew you’d find me.” 

They turned as the others came running, looks of shock and excitement and bewilderment on all their faces. She released him but grabbed his hand, not ready to let him go just yet.

“What happened?” Ariel asked, looking between the two of them. 

“We did it,” Emma said, not able to keep the happy laughter from bubbling up in her voice. “We broke the curse!” 

“How?” Tink asked. 

“True love’s kiss," Belle smiled. "The most powerful magic in the world.” She stepped forward, pressed her lips to Killian’s cheek. His ears went red. “It’s good to have you back, Killian.”

“Is it really you?” Tink asked and Killian smiled at her.

“Aye, Tink, it’s really me.” 

She jumped forward, slamming into him and throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tight before remembering herself and stepping back, looking embarrassed. 

“This is wonderful news,” Ariel said. “I’m so glad you figured it out.” And with that, she plunged her hand into his chest and ripped out his heart. 

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  Chloe and Lucifer are survivors in a post apocalyptic world trying to make it through life step by step. (The cause is not biblical, but still falls in the canonical universe of the show.)

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter and the little goodies within it! Comments are greatly loved and appreciated! (Sorry it’s been a year lol)

                                                 Chapter Five

Fighting one's instinct versus knowledge on the situation at hand was becoming very clear to Chloe as she ventured deeper into the brush and away from Lucifer. Together, the Devil was vulnerable to any injury he received. Yet, as crudely humorous as it was, the same could be said when she was separated from him. Vulnerability. Such a fine skill to hold during the end of the world.

Twigs scraped against the detective's skin as walked as silently as she could. Every time a dead leaf crunch underneath her shoe, the more on edge she became. Despite their remote location, it was never a bad thing to be on the alert for looters. Or worse. These dark times had really turned some into true monsters. The things she'd witness, the stories she'd heard. It was something she tried to never think about, pushed far back to the outer limits of her mind.

Not much further, Chloe. She said to herself. Soon enough you can turn around and go back to Lucifer and-

There came a rustling noise behind her, a very distinct, undeniable sound. Chloe's blood ran cold as she froze in place, mouth completely dry. It came again, closer now. Heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, she tried to decipher the sound. Human? Animal? Before the next foot fall, the detective began to sprint.

Noise seemed to come from every direction as Chloe ran blindly through the dying forest. Blood pumping, breathing ragged, she kept going and going as what she could only presume was her hunter closing in on its prey. Just as she thought her limbs couldn't move any faster, someone grabbed her from behind.

"Detective," Lucifer tried to steady Chloe as she struggled against him, still in a state of defense. "Detective, it's just me. It's Lucifer."

"Something," she swallowed thickly, gasping for air as she pointed behind her. "Something-"

"It's alright," he soothed, letting her lean into him. "It was just a deer."

There, standing a few hundred feet away from them, Chloe could just make out the body of a doe. The creature seemed to meet her gaze, dark eyes staring back curiously. How odd it was to see such a thing out in this wasteland. A forest once teeming with life now stripped of its beauty. How the animal had survived this long, she wasn't sure. Before she could even make a remark, the deer bounded off, leaving both Chloe and Lucifer alone once more.

Embarrassment flushed in her cheeks as the adrenaline faded away. Months ago, or however long it'd been, she'd gone for her gun first. Fight versus flight. But just then, her gut reaction was to run. Flee into the uncharted woods and into a trap for all she knew. She was exhausted, strained from their days trekking through the wilderness. Sometimes it even surprised her that her sanity had somewhat remained intact.

"Shit!" She cursed, breaking away from Lucifer. Her foot connected with a small stone, sending it flying into the base of a tree. "I could've just gotten us both killed. If it had been...if I had…"

"Technically, you could claim that I was at fault since I'm the reason we're down here in the first place." He gave a tired smile, hoping she'd take to his crude attempt at humor. She didn't. "Everything's fine now," he reassured, moving to her side. "We're okay and that's what's important." Lucifer dangled his leg in front of her. "Good as new!"

Chloe's mouth twitched into a small smile, her head shaking at the gesture. Optimism at its finest. Inhaling softly, she reached over and gave his hand a small squeeze. The Devil's eyes flickered down to her fingers before flashing up to meet her gaze.

"No more injuries," she murmured, her smile weary.

"None," he agreed.

                                                     XXX

Even though she was expecting it, the sound of shattering glass still startled her as Chloe watched Nate ram a rock straight into the vending machine. It took a couple good strikes, and while she knew Lucifer could easily do it in one with his fist, she didn't feel the need to explain her partner's true nature to their group. So she waited hungrily, the desire to eat overpowering the guilt of stealing.

"Hell yeah," the young man chuckled, lunging straight for a bag of cheese puffs. "I love these damn things!"

But before Nate could even open his beloved prize, Lucifer quickly snatched it from his grasp. The man reeled around, a look of pure resentment burning in his eyes as the Devil held it just out of his grasp. Unlike him, the others had not immediately gone into a frenzy for the food. While each one of them wanted nothing more than to dig into whatever the machine offered, it was a silent agreement some sort of rules needed to be set in place.

"Give. That. Back." Nate growled, trying in desperation to retrieve his meal. "That's mine. I earned it!"

"Ha," Lucifer snorted, clearly amused by the other man's desperation. "If anything, you've earned yourself a first class ticket to Hell-"

"We need to ration," Chloe interrupted, throwing her partner a look. "Despite our luck in finding this before someone else, we need to figure out how to divide this to last." Her eyes flickered to the vandalized machine and the junk food it held. "Not that candy and chips are the best form of nutrition."

Though the machine was far from empty, it clearly hadn't been refilled before the chaos hit. Off brand chips, some chocolate bars of various kinds, gummies that looked a little stale even from where Chloe was standing, and a few packs of gum. That was it. Empty calories that would cause them to crash and burn energy. But it was all they had and anything was better than nothing.

"Come on," Nate groaned. "We've had barely anything to eat in the past several days. I'm starving. We all are!" He wildly gestured to the others. "What's one bag of chips going to do?"

"I'm with Chloe," Ruth spoke up, moving to the detective's side. "We need to have a plan. If we're going to make it far." She swallowed, her shoulders rising as she inhaled. "Before we turn on each other."

"You have my vote," Charlie agreed, throwing Nate a cold look. "Sometimes you have to sacrifice to get things done."

"Mine too," Kate added, her eyes focused on the ground. "It's for the best, I think."

All eyes fell on Lucifer, who, still holding the chips, simply shrugged. "You know whose side I'm always on." Chloe's smile only deepened Nate's scowl. "Especially when it comes to crisp eating pricks-"

"It's settled then," the detective cut in before Lucifer could finish. "We split things up. Divide and conquer." With a small smile, she reached in and grabbed a bag of old gummies. "So how do we go about this?"

After much debate, mostly on Nate's part, the snacks were gathered and split up. They had a good few days worth of "meals" if one would call them that. Chloe's stomach was already twisting at the look of all the sweets. It wasn't that she didn't like sugary foods-she really did, but for however long it would last, that's what her diet would consist of.

"Eat."

The detective was pulled from her thoughts as Lucifer continually poked at her with a chocolate bar. She eyed him carefully before taking the candy and breaking it in half. Handing him his piece, she began to nibble on hers, trying not to cram the entire thing down in one bite. She didn't have to look at the Devil to know he wasn't consuming his.

"Eat your own," she mumbled. "I'm fine."

"I'm not hungry," he countered. "You have it. I don't even like chocolate." Like a child, he obnoxiously poked her with it again. "Quick, it's melting in my hands and I don't want my clothes to get bloody chocolate stains on top of everything else."

Chloe huffed and shook her head. "You're being ridiculous right now, you know that?"

"And you love me for it," he smirked before forcing the treat into her hand. "Now eat, I'll be fine. I'll just have a few extra licorice whips later."

They both knew that it'd be a long while before they'd eat again, but neither spoke up about it. Instead, Chloe just leaned against him feeling his arm wrap around her waist. The wind began to blow, but only silence followed in its wake.

                                                       XXX

"Damn mosquitoes!"

Lucifer slapped the back of his neck as they trudged on through the woods. The air was sticky and the heat made Chloe's head spin. Despite the fact they were heading up north, the weather had turned out of their favor. Days had passed since they last saw rain, maybe even weeks. She was too tired, too thirsty to concentrate.

"Hey, hey," she hadn't even realized she was slipping down to the ground before Lucifer grabbed her. "Stay with me, detective. I know it's hotter than Hell, but we have to keep walking. We have to find water, yes?"

Chloe nodded her head weakly, her dry lips smacking together as Lucifer threw her arm around his neck. Weather seemed to be going from one extreme to the next. Maybe it was normal. Maybe it was from the bombs. But she needed to fight through this. Fight to stay alive. Survive for Trixie. For Lucifer.

"You know what I want," her voice slurred as if she was drunk. "A nice, big swimming pool of water that I could drink out of."

"I could go for a few shots of whiskey myself," he added, but a glass of water would be nice too I suppose." He chuckled, but Chloe could hear the worry in his tone. "Tell you what, we survive this and I'll build you the biggest bloody pool in all of Los Angeles."

"And we'll skinny dip," Chloe mumbled deliriously. "It's too hot for clothes."

"Ooh, you are quite the temptress, detective," Lucifer smirked, shifting to carry more of her weight. "I'll hold you to that."

They continued to walk on, Chloe growing more and more out of it as they went. Lucifer fear for her outdid his own concern for his well being as they pressed on. He knew if they didn't find some source of water soon, their outcome wouldn't be so pleasant. If running Hell was still a concern of his, he'd consider making this a torture option.

"Lucifer," Chloe murmured, bringing Lucifer back to reality. "If something happens to me-"

"Stop," he interrupted firmly. "It won't."

"But if it does-"

"It. Won't."

For a brief moment, his eyes flickered a crimson red. Though his anger was not aimed at Chloe. No. Literally at everything but her. As they moved on, almost painfully slow, suddenly the detective's voice broke through the silence.

"Lucifer, look," she nearly rasped. "A house!"

At first, he thought she was hallucinating, her hand shaking as she pointed towards the distance. He was going to ignore her words when his eyes did too catch a glimpse of something past a thicket of trees. By Father, she was right. There was a house. Right in the middle of bloody nowhere. The Devil couldn't contain the grin that spread across his face.

"Why my dear detective, I believe we found something much better than a pool," he breathed, looking down at her. "Much better indeed."

At least, he hoped as much.

[beans-shadow]

looking for the truth (pt 9)

Fandom: Naruto

Relationship: Kakasaku

Characters: Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura

read on ao3: here

part one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen

The most talked about event of the festival final arrives -- the masquerade.

----

When Kakashi had gotten ready for bed, he prepared himself for another night of restlessness and zoning out Sakura’s light snoring.

However, the weirdest thing happened when he woke up that next day in the Village of Mountain Streams.

He realized he had slept the entire night, free of any chakra expenditure. With a lurch, he sat up in the bed in search of the wall clock. The second hand ticked steadily as he read the time as nine twenty-seven. Nine? Kakashi thought with astonishment. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d missed the break of dawn, either working in his garden, practicing a new move, or taking his ninken out.

Immediately, Kakashi was on high alert.

On instinct, he sent a surge of chakra to his left eye, with the sharp pinch of energy reminding him of his loss of the Sharingan. With shake of his head, Kakashi ripped off the covers and stood in a ready stance, hands together preparing for any necessary signs. Scanning the room, Kakashi went cold when he noticed Sakura’s side of the bed empty, no traces of heat signatures or chakra residue.

Mind racing, Kakashi listed reasons for the current situation. The only probable explanation he came up with was a jutsu of unparalleled power that had snuck into his senses just before they went to bed, resulting in his loss of awareness. And where was Sakura?

And then he heard a squeak in the bathroom. It suspiciously sounded like the movement of a door. Light on his toes, Kakashi inched towards the door. Keeping his breath as shallow as possible, Kakashi prepared himself for the incoming fight.

Just as he was reaching for the door, it slid open, releasing a thread of steam and Sakura wrapped in a towel.

“Kakashi?” Surprise was evident on her face, open and honest. “Is everything okay?”

Sakura was completely relaxed; did she not realize the danger they were in? She gripped her towel around her small body, but that was the only rigidity that Kakashi could observe. She tore off the wrap from her head, and shook out her pink hair, splattering Kakashi with a few droplets. “Are you going to continue standing like that, or explain to me what’s going on?”

Kakashi looked down at himself, now noticing his fighting stance: legs splayed, arms up and fists clenched at the ready. With a snap he straightened himself, but not before he took a quick surveillance around the room.

“Do you feel anything off? Did you notice anything when you woke up?” He questioned her, eyes wide.

Crossing her arms, Sakura contemplated his inquiry. “I did a perimeter check, and found nothing. No seals, no chakra signatures, no heat residues. You were sound asleep snoring like a bulldog, so I decided to let you rest while I got ready.”

The shinobi let the last sentence absorb. Had he heard her correctly?

“I was sound asleep?” Kakashi repeated.

Tilting her head, Sakura’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Yep. I even stubbed my toe on the bed frame which may have resulted in some loud swearing,” she admitted. “But even that didn’t wake you up."

There was no way. Kakashi didn’t believe it. Rubbing the fabric of his mask, Kakashi turned away from the female ninja. He hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in over a decade, maybe more. But all other signs pointed to Sakura’s account being the truth.

And now that Kakashi was out of danger mode, he was frighteningly aware of the fact all that was around Sakura’s body was a small, thin towel. Hiding his face, Kakashi turned away and fled back to the bed. His spine felt fuzzy, and it made him uncomfortable to say the least.

Traces of Sakura’s scrutiny followed him as he sat back on his side of the bed, but Kakashi’s nonplussed state quenched anything she would have said about the matter.

Cutting the tension in the room, Sakura said, “You know what today is?”

Still relatively absent, Kakashi answered in a muted voice. “No.”

“It’s the culmination of Futoshi’s festival: The Celebration of Inner Beauty. They have the carnival tonight, as well as masquerade,” Sakura explained.

“Masquerade?” Kakashi parroted.

Placing herself in front of Kakashi, Sakura nodded. “Yeah. You know, parties where people wear masks? The point is to appreciate how people contain beauty, and how we love others not for superficial reasons. Perfect for you, as you never go anywhere without a mask.” She flicked his nose, and Kakashi finally stepped out of his funk.

“I’m not sure about that. I mean, besides Jiraya, I’m probably the number one fan of Itcha Itcha girls. And goodness knows it’s not because of their intellect…”

“Kakashi!” Sakura threw her hair towel at Kakashi. “Don’t be gross!”

The towel obscured his view of the shinobi as she withdrew back into the bathroom, sliding the door shut. Kakashi was left in a perplexed state, holding her damp towel on his chest allowing moisture to slowly make its way through his shirt and contact his warm skin.

“What? It was just a joke!” He called through the wall.

“Oh, shut up, you nasty old man,” Sakura called back.

Stricken by her harsh words, Kakashi simply stood there. Never had Sakura ever talked back to him in such a way.

But then he started to chuckle, and before long he was full-on laughing, holding the towel close to his body.

Timidly, the bathroom door slid to the side. Sakura peered through the small crack she made, still glowering. “What’s so funny?”

Straightening his mask, Kakashi explained through laughs. “I would never have imagined my most obedient student ever speaking to me that way. I just thought it was humorous.”

Taking a beat before responding, Sakura decided this was indeed something to laugh about. Although she wasn’t one to easily let go of a feud, no matter how petty or little, she let herself smirk lightly.

“Fine, you’re right.” She opened the rest of the bathroom door. Today she dressed in almost her normal attire – a simple red shirt and a pink skirt. Only the elements of shinobi were removed. They must be her civilian clothes, Kakashi thought. He didn’t have any, but she’d come from a civilian family, so of course her parents would always have clothes for their beautiful daughter.

“Kakashi, you’ve gotten yourself all wet.”

Kakashi blinked. “What?” He’d lost his train of thought yet again.

Tutting, Sakura yanked her towel out of his hands. Sure enough, a dark splotch of moisture was left on his chest. Sidestepping him, Sakura shoved him into the bathroom. “Get ready for the day, and let’s try and decode as much of the scroll as we can before the masquerade.”

“Yes, the scroll…” Kakashi scratched his head. “I can do that. We can do that. Let me just get ready.”

Feeling the eye roll from beyond the bathroom, Kakashi heard Sakura mutter “Yep. That’s exactly what I just said.” Even more quietly, he heard a soft, “What a weirdo.”

As Kakashi removed his shirt and left it to dry, he glanced at his body in the mirror. Not completely vain, Kakashi was willing to admit he looked in great shape. Slapping his abs, he admired the six pack that had been present since he was a teenager. His slim figure hid the strong musculature underneath, including the intense chakra levels he could summon for short periods of time.

But then, as always, his eyes would catch the jagged “X” buried in his chest. The many small puncture wounds, be it from kunai piercing his skin or shiruken finding there way through his defenses. Lines of scar tissue, lumps of callouses, and discoloration made a topography map out of his body of his entire career.

And of course, his eyes drifted upward. Staring at the left half of his face, Kakashi reached out to his reflection. Anticipating the touch on his own skin, Kakashi brushed the scar running down his forehead, over his eye, to his cheek on the silvery surface. The mark of his first failure as a ninja; a mark of his first failure to his first friends.

Eyeing the door that separated him from the pink-haired shinobi waiting on him, Kakashi wondered. He’d felt something at the picnic. He’d heard something in her voice, just now. Was he going crazy? Was this assignment making him soft?

He returned to his ugly face. No, he thought. Finally touching his own face, Kakashi covered his left eye. He would never turn soft. If he did, something horrible would happen. Sakura was soft, and always will be. She’d never feel anything towards him, so why should he entertain these fleeting thoughts? They were just a result of their cover story, nothing more.

-----

“This doesn’t sound good,” Kakashi grumbled from the couch.

After moving to the living room to continue decoding, Sakura had placed herself to his immediate left, much to his discomfort. He doubted he’d ever get full control of his vision again, and the weak position list left him in was disturbing. But Sakura was fully focused on the message.

Little by little, they’d put together the message over the course of the entire day. The festival was quickly approaching, but neither had stopped to think about that as they drew closer to uncovering the scroll’s secrets. The coffee table was a mess of drinks, snacks, schematics, deciphers, and half-completed codes.

More flowers needed for Leaf shipment, increase total fertilizer by two tons. Fertilzer and seeds alike, Continued instruction of planting as usual. Infiltration about 95% complete. Suspicion low, Hokage not involved in plant industry. Preparation ready and awaiting the go.

“Infiltration? Suspicion?” Sakura asked, rubbing her chin. “Infiltration of what, flowers? That’s all we get. And we would notice if anything else came with the order, we always have our entrance guard check cargo.”

“It is an odd thing to say,” Kakashi agreed. “Overall, this scroll isn’t all too alarming. But combined with the secrecy, and select vocabulary…”

“There must be something we are missing,” Sakura finished his sentence. “We should snoop around some more. Not at the fields, it’s too in the open with too many pairs of eyes. Do they have a holding area, or something along those lines?”

Kakashi shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. The maps I was given of the area were very crude, and it would bring up questions if we asked for a more detailed map now.”

Sakura glanced out the window. “It’s inconsequential for the moment, anyways. The sun is starting to set, and Futoshi would probably send a squad of scent dogs after us if we don’t show up to this festival.”

“Agreed. But maybe Pakkun can find something while everyone else is preoccupied.” Kakashi stood up and summoned his companion.

“I’ll also send a bird to Ino, maybe she’ll have an idea about this. Her mom knows everything about everything if it concerns flowers.”

Kakashi gave Pakkun the details as Sakura scrambled into the bedroom to write her letter to Ino. She admonished Kakashi after he reminded her to make sure to write it in a way that only the two shinobi would understand the true intent.

“I’ll have a look around, boss,” Pakkun said, licking his paw. “I have an idea where to start, too. What will you be doing in the meantime?”

With a groan, Kakashi said, “Sakura and I have to attend a festival tonight. That ‘celebrates inner beauty’,” he used finger quotes.

Pakkun looked up, one dog-brow raised. “That must be faked exacerbation, right?”

“Excuse me?” Kakashi crossed his arms.

“C’mon, young Hatake. You and Sakura will be having a blast, enjoying yourselves, while I do all the grunt work,” Pakkun said.

“I’d much rather be moving the mission forward. This isn’t exactly a vacation, Pakkun, and I’m not one to relax.”

“True,” the dog admitted. “But you sure have let your guard down more easily these past few days than I have ever seen before.”

Rubbing the back of his head, Kakashi looked away. “That night of sake was an accident,” he defended himself. “I’m sure you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Standing on all fours, Pakkun shook himself out. “You mean the newlywed game meant nothing? You didn’t need to have that picnic either, Kakashi. Plus, us canine have special senses about things like this.” He glanced up one last time at his summoner. “But what do I know?” And with a poof, he disappeared.

Coughing away the bellow of smoke, Kakashi walked away from where his dog used to be seconds ago. No, he angrily thought. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s crazy.

“Did I miss Pakkun again?” Sakura came out of the bedroom, letter in hand. “How does that always happen?”

Wordlessly, Kakashi shrugged. Squirming by her to enter the bedroom, he rummaged through his bag for a change of clothes.

Following him lead, Sakura went to her bag and started pulling out piles of clothing. “It’s fine, I’ll see him later.”

Kakashi grunted.

“This… festival, ball, whatever,” Sakura said as she sorted her clothes, “seems important to Futoshi and the entire village, so we need to at least make our presence moderately known. No skipping with surprise picnics or anything.” She turned, casting a smile at Kakashi, but he kept his back turned away, rejecting any hint of relaxation.

Not letting his fluctuating emotions bother her yet again, Sakura kept smiling. “Word on the street is the Daimyo went all out this evening, as well. Lantern lights all over the village, special food trucks on every corner, and even a live band. I can sense it will be a beautiful night, with great weather. Let’s try to enjoy this, Kakashi, if we have nothing else to do besides be vigilant.”

Kakashi’s back only seemed to get tighter as she continued talking. Knowing her next question would piss him off, Sakura walked over to him with a shit-eating grin. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched, making Sakura jut her hand back. She tried to not let that bother her, chalking it off to shinobi jitters.

In lieu of touching him, Sakura leaned over his back. “Are you nervous, Hatake?” She whispered to his ear.

Now Kakashi stood up straight as an arrow, hands holding the clothes so tight Sakura thought he would leave permanent wrinkles in them. “I’m going into the bathroom to get ready. Let me know when you’re finished as well, and I’ll come back out.”

He rushed to the restroom with such urgency, Sakura’s hair flipped in his wake. Shaking her head, Sakura went back to her pile of laundry and selected her nicest dress. An ankle-length, sunrise dress with a sweetheart neckline was her selection. The ombre effect would be dazzling in the festival lights, the seamless transition between purple, pink, and light orange complimented her hair as well. The dress would hug her in all the right places, but was roomy enough for quick movement if she needed to spring into action. With the long skirt, she could also hide all sorts of items she refused to leave in the apartment.

Knowing this night would be semi-traditional, Sakura also picked out a cover that looked like a see-through kimono. Light green and powerful silver brushstrokes mixed together in a harmony that Sakura could stare at for hours, if she did not have other pressing matters to attend to.

For the final touch, Sakura picked up her mask. She’d gone out and bought it a little while ago by herself, as Kakashi did not find the need to accompany her when his outfit always consisted of a mask.

Hers was the opposite of Kakashi’s – it covered the top half of her face, instead of the bottom half. The structure was brown, shaped like branches, with leaves and cherry blossom flowers sprouting all around the top and sides. It was hand painted, fit her name perfectly, and Sakura simply could not control herself when the salesmen pitched the object to her. It also ended up being contoured to her face like a glove, and with that, the money was exchanged.

Sakura slipped on the mask now, feeling as though she was putting on a costume for a play. Playing the part of a happy couple, without any risks in the world to worry about. It sounded nice, and she was ready to fall into the fantasy.

But she could not let herself. With a deep breath, Sakura turned to her knife bag. She slipped her knife sheath over her thigh, and secured kunai knives out of anyone’s sight. In her bust, she stuffed some small scrolls for healing summons. On her other thigh, she slipped some paper bombs, just in case.

Straightening out her dress, Sakura called to Kakashi. “Okay, I’m ready. You can come out now.”

Kakashi was still busy fussing with his hair that refused to lay flat when he exited the bathroom. But when he finally laid eyes on Sakura, all the air left his lungs.

It seemed without his noticing, Sakura really had turned into a full woman. Standing tall in her pink dress, she looked like a fearsome warrior who had grown strong and independent throughout her life. She knew herself, knew her needs, and knew her duties in life. Whoever talked to her should feel honored she took the time to acknoldege their presence given all of her responsibilities. She held herself wih so much confidence, Kakashi almost forgot she used to be the small, pathetic genin no one had wanted on their team.

She didn’t have the body of females from Jiraya’s novels, but that did not matter at all. She shone from under her silver kimono that Pakkun surely must have picked out, and Kakashi realized he had been staring too long.

Her bright eyes shown through her mask despite all the noise, analyzing Kakashi’s outfit much more scientifically than he had hers.

Kakashi wore only the top half of a black Haori with white wave patterns, skipping out on the hakama for gray dress pants. He’d try to get his hair to obey gallons of gel, but it still spiked all around in the air. And of course, he still wore his signature black facemask.

“Alright, you look pretty well-dressed, considering what I know you’ll put up with,” Sakura said, teeth shining from under her mask.

“Why thank you, Ms. Haru,” Kakashi said with a bow. He extended his arm to her. “Shall we?”

Sakura bowed back, chuckling. Taking his arm, she replied, “Don’t mind if we do, Mr. Hate.”

----

They’d walked to the festival site in complete silence, arm in arm the entire journey. Sakura, along with not wanting to pressure Kakashi, was tired of initiating conversation, so instead she just took in her surroundings. From time to time, she expended some chakra to sense any dangers, but nothing came up besides Kakashi’s brief flares as well.

When they finally reached the center of the festival, it was clear some sort of pre-game had happened. Many of the attendees were already wasted; they clamored for food in the way only drunks did, and swayed to the music without any inhibition. The main street was unbelievably crowded, surprising Sakura even when she had the knowledge this festival was famous around here.

Wordlessly, Sakura dragged Kakashi around the sights. She admired the interpretive artwork that ran around the perimeters of the festival, laughed at the lantern lights. She greeted the few people she recognized even with masks on, and surveyed the food carts. Sakura tried chicken treats, feeding Kakashi as a fiancé would, and thankfully Kakashi played his own part, even if he still did not speak up.

He seemed absorbed into his own world again, eyes slightly distant. They refocused whenever Sakura demanded his attention, but quickly drew inwards when they dropped the act. But Sakura genuinely wanted to appreciate this festival. Its intentions were pure, even if there was something sinister hidden in this village. Tossing out conventional ideals of beauty, and instead celebrating the beauty on the inside? She was all about that. Sakura might have grown into her large forehead, but there were always going to be aspects about her body she would hate. She’d much rather find someone that loved her for who she was, not what she looked like.

Hands locked with Kakahi’s, Sakura led them towards the music’s source. With a noisemaker like Naruto, Konoha was no quiet village, but it did lack a sort of spice when it came to musicality. These talented musicians attracted Sakura, their movements enchanting, and she wanted the sound to be clearer.

Weaving through the thick crowd, Sakura lost her grip on Kakashi, but she kept moving towards the band. Eventually, she was close enough to the stage where she could watch them. She laughed and clapped along to the tune, even sang along when they played more traditional songs. She lost herself in the music, jumping and swaying to the melody, momentarily forgetting their dire mission.

There she was, just a woman in her early twenties, having a good time. Maybe later she’d accidentally bump into a handsome fella, who would ask her out to dinner. They would get to know each other, discover they shared a favorite color, and then debate philosophical ideas.

Or maybe she would find a lifelong friend, just by shouting out the words to a popular song and making eye contact across the crowd. They would dance towards each other, sing at the top of their lungs for the rest of the night, take shots together, and form a pact to never reveal what their night of drunk shenanigans led them to.

Or just maybe, she would decide when wants to learn how to play an instrument as well. After the concert, she would go up to the band and request a teacher. Finding her to be serious, they would take her on their tour of the world, and she would become a world-renowned artist. Armies would chant her names at auditoriums, and she would let in their words and channel their energy through her music.

Then the song ended, and reality struck Sakura again. She slouched, but resigned to her world. She was a ninja, bound by duty to her Hokage. That’s just the way it was. And her life was full of adventure, she couldn’t deny that. But sometimes, she envied her civilian’s parents lack of drama.

The band switched to playing softer music, and couples took each other’s hands to slow dance. Someone grabbed Sakura’s hand, and for a second she thought one of the dreams was coming true. But it was just Kakashi. She’d thought she lost him in the crowd before, but didn’t let the startled feeling show on her face. Wordlessly, Kakashi brought Sakura in close, holding her steady with a palm on the small of her back. She was grateful for her mask that covered the rush of blood in her cheeks.

They moved to the music with several inches separating them. Sakura looked up at the tall man in front her, but Kakashi looked forward, face pale. Taking a chance, Sakura tugged him closer. He obeyed her without any fight, letting her rest her head on his chest. She could feel his neck bend down to look at her, Kakashi’s chin brushing the top of her hair. His heart beat at an alarming rate, making Sakura worry he was expecting an ambush at any moment.

Sakura took the proximity as a chance to talk about covert details, and mentioned the deciphered scroll. “I told Konoha to analyze the soil they received from this land. Hopefully Ino will get back soon. The scroll said ‘infiltration’. I’m worried we’ll need to eventually take someone out on this mission,” Sakura said.

Kakashi’s heart slowed down slightly as his voice rumbled through his chest. “Don’t worry. If it comes to that, I’ll do the deed. No problem.”

The conversation’s quick turn direction churned her stomach, but Kakashi was talking to her again, and she did not want to go another evening feeling like she had one step forward, two steps back with this man. “I know I’m a soldier of our village, and I have taken people’s lives… but I’m a healer. Every life hurts me inside. How can you say that so casually?”

“The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. The more you distance yourself, the less you will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others. I embraced the bad that is Konoha, letting the good seep away, so you can commit bad deeds.”

Shaking her head, Sakura retreated from the comfort of Kakashi’s chest. He looked down at her, eyes gray and empty. “You can’t just stop being good, because you’ve been exposed to so much bad,” Sakura answered, eyes pleading to Kakashi’s impassive face. “You have to be good, despite all the bad.”

Without thinking, Kakshi blurted, “But what if I think I’m what’s bad with this world?” His voice almost quivered, and Kakashi glanced away to hide the terror in his eyes of what he just admitted.

Sakura stopped dancing, forcing Kakashi to stop as well. He just stood there, eyes looking to the side, as she stared him down with those piercing green eyes. “Kakashi, why would you even suggest that?”

Now looking at the ground, Kakashi gave a sorrowful shrug, and resumed dancing. But his shifting of weight was slower, and less balanced. Sakura gave him his time, hoping he will eventually answer if she just waited it out.

Her patience was rewarded about a minute later, when Kakashi spoke in a soft voice, on the verge of being too quiet to pick up, even with her trained hearing.

“All the people I grow to care for, they all die. Sometimes by my hand. How can I not think of myself as bad? I can’t even keep those that I lo---”

His voice cracked. Kakashi swallowed hard, and resumed. “I can’t even keep them safe. There’s no room in my life for good, not anymore.”

Mouth agape, Sakura shook her head again. “I can’t even believe I’m hearing this, Kakashi. After everything you’ve done for our village, the countless missions you’ve completed, the ninja you’ve taught, you don’t think you’ve done any good, ever?”

Kakashi watched a lantern move with the soft breeze. “All of that was in service of the village, which isn’t the most pure institution, as I am sure you know. I don’t feel great about a lot of the missions I’ve been assigned.”

Kakashi had a point, so Sakura tried to find another source of argument.

“Well, what about Team 7?”

Kakashi looked down at Sakura, gray eyes sparking for the first time since they started talking. “What about it?”

Sakura smiled wide. “You taught us so much, showed us how to be the best versions of ourselves. You also saved us countless times throughout our missions, no matter how fucked up they became. I consider that a good deed.”

Kakashi snorted. “Yeah, because Sasuke turned out so great.”

“Forget about Sasuke for one second,” Sakura growled. She calmed herself. “Think of Naruto, think of me.” Kakashi locked eyes with her. “I know Naruto looks up to you still for guidance. He loves you. And I am thankful every day I had you as my teacher. You were the best team leader anyone could ask for. And now, I’m thankful every day I have you as a friend.”

Kakashi’s mask twitched, so Sakura guessed the man was attempting to hide a smile. His eyes dilated, and his cheeks reddened slightly. Laughing, Sakura reached up and brushed his cheek with her thumb. “You are so hard on yourself, Kakashi. Please see the good you spread in this world, and try to forgive yourself for what you may have done in the past. And if you struggle to give yourself that forgiveness, only ask me, I’ll gladly give it to you.”

Like a puppy, Kakashi leaned into her touch, eyes closing. She felt him calming under his hand, and smiled. To an outsider, they probably really looked like two intendeds, enjoying the intimacy of their quiet conversation.

“Thank you, Sakura,” Kakashi breathed. He reached up to cup her hand in his, and held it there as he turned his face into her palm. She felt the slight pressure of fabric against her skin, and stopped breathing when she realized Kakashi was giving her a soft kiss.

Quickly, she withdrew her hand from his grasp. Immediately Kakashi snapped out of his soft behavior, staring stupidly at her. He clearly did not realize exactly what he was doing, and his mind was still racing to catch up with his actions. But only surprise had wrenched Sakura’s hand away, and she did not want to punish him for being vulnerable. So, she rushed to him, wrapping him up in a bear hug, burrowing her head in his chest yet again. After a second, she felt Kakashi’s arms reach around her as well, and all the muscles in his body relax.

“I’m always here for you, Kakashi,” Sakura said to his body.

She felt him hum. “I know, I know,” he replied. His gratitude was not expressed again, but she knew it was still there.

She squeezed him a few more times, until Kakashi started protesting. “Please, Sakura, you’re going to break my back,” Kakashi laughed slightly. He removed her hands from around him, keeping her at a distance, but still holding her hands as if he could not bear the thought of letting go again.

But Sakura remembered something, and pulled her hands away. Kakashi looked downtrodden, but then a truly happy look on his face replaced it quickly.

“I just remembered,” Sakura said. “I bought you something when I was out looking for my own mask.”

Sakura reached into her bra and pulled out a small scroll. She unfurled it, revealing a seal with writing so small, only someone with surgical-like penmanship could have written it. Makings sure no one was paying them any attention, Sakura whispered a quick jutsu. She arched her back over her hand, and after a small puff of smoke disappeared, revealed the item.

A ball of silver and green fabric lay in her palm, glittering delicately in the lantern light. Sakura held up with both hands, smiling when Kakashi’s eyes widened in realization about what exactly she was offering him.

“It’s a new mask! I know you didn’t buy one since you already have so many,” Sakura explained, “but I figured tonight called for a special gift.” She held it out to Kakashi to take, who gingerly fingered the fabric. It felt like feathers in his hands.

“Sakura, I… thank you,” he said, still admiring the handiwork. Then he looked up at her, distressed. “I don’t have anything for you.”

“Oh, please, don’t worry about that,” Sakura said, genuine. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. That’s what friends do.”

Wonderment still shined in Kakahsi’s eyes, and Sakura had to wonder how often Kakashi’s friends did things like this for him. Who were Kakashi’s friends, anyways? Guy? He was great, but seemed a bit airheaded to Sakura. Genma would never buy anything for anyone, and Asuma was gone. Her heart pained for Kakashi now; those really were his only friends left.

Kakashi has lost almost everyone, Sakura remembered Pakkun mentioning to her earlier this mission. Not for the first time, she wondered how exactly he lost those people who were so close to him.

But she did not want those dark thoughts to consume her, nor did she want to remind Kakashi of his melancholy past. So instead, she clapped her hands. “Go ahead, put it on. I’ll look away.” She turned around, closed her eyes, and for good measure, cupped her hands over her eyes as well.

Not willing to disappoint her, Kakashi obeyed her wish. He slipped off his black mask and replaced it with her silvery green gift. It was obviously made from expensive material; it was thick enough to appear opaque, but breathed much better than the old masks Kakashi had grown used to.

After briefly touching his own cheek, he tapped Sakura on her bare shoulder. She spun in an instant, the smile already lighting up her face, which ignited a quick heart beat in Kakahi’s chest.

“It looks amazing, Kakashi,” she murmured. Kakashi smiled wide under his mask, and from the way Sakura’s eyes fluttered down for a split second, he guessed this new mask did not cover up his mouth as well as his others. But he did not mind, even if he was more accustomed to emotional privacy. This was one of the most thoughtful gifts he had ever received, and he could not contain the joy that emanated from his every limb.

On a whim, Kakashi grabbed Sakura and spun her in place, lifting an arm high above her head. She let out a breathless squeal of happiness. He then twirled her back close to his body, and dipped her low. He doggedly followed her descent, almost touching noses with her just a foot above the ground.

“Truly, Sakura. Thank you so much for this wonderful gift.”

Sakura’s upper cheeks started to flush, but whether it was from the dancing or the blood rushing to her head from gravity, Kakashi could not begin to guess. He hefted her back up, and drew her close to slow dance together. Feeling completely comfortable around her, he rested his chin over her shoulder, breathing in her scent. It was sweet and floral, and calmed his every nerve. How had he not realized before now how much comfort Sakura gave him? Kakashi closed her eyes, breathing nice and even, finally fully enjoying the festival.

Sakura was tense in his arms, her shoulder hard as a rock. She’d initiated the close dancing before, so he wasn’t sure why should would react this way. But momentarily, she relaxed as well, returning to her resting position on his chest. He tried to force his heart to not beat as fast as before, but having Sakura this close messed with his mind, which in turn messed with his head. She relaxed him so much, but still made him so nervous. He hoped he would get over whatever this feeling was soon, so he could just be himself without any distractions. He knew his behavior was abnormal always, but his current behavior was exceptionally weird, especially after his talk with Pakkun.

Simply listening to the music, the two of them held the other tight, eyes shut. As one, they moved across the floor, never stepping on each other’s feet, or having to speak about their next movements. Kakashi felt Sakura’s thumb on his shoulder rub him rhythmically, and he swore it was some medical technique to make him even more at ease.

Kakashi’s guard was so down, he did not even notice when the hurricane Futoshi approached them.

“Look at you two!”

His piercing voice shocked Kakashi out of his drowsiness, and he sprung up from Sakura’s shoulder nook, blinking rapidly. Arms crossed, Futoshi looked smug, as if he knew some secret they did not.

“You’re both just so adorable, absorbed in your own world. I wish I could bottle you two up and keep you preserved here forever!” He clapped.

Sakura, always remembering her manners before Kakashi did, bowed. “My lord, it is a pleasure to see you again. This festival is wonderful,” she said, gesturing around her.

Futoshi’s chest puffed out. “Why thank you! I tried hard to make this as fun as possible. But I think you two only need each other to have fun,” he winked at them. Sakura blushed severely, and Kakashi tried to make his face as unemotional as possible. Don’t think about it, don't think about it, he repeated over and over in his head.

Futoshi touched Sakura’s cover slip, appreciating the material in his hands. “This is beautiful, Sakura.” He looked to Kakashi. “Your fiancé’s clothing certainly brings out the color in your hair,” he motioned to Kakashi’s rat’s nest that had refused to cooperate with him earlier. Kakashi, now very self conscious, mussed with it again. “Did you two coordinate?”

Angrily tugging at his locks, Kakashi grumbled. “No, we absolutely did not.” He failed to keep how irritate the was about Futoshi’s interruption. Sakura lightly slapped him on the arm.

“Well, you two must really just have a special connection,” Futoshi admired. He bowed to them, prompting a bow in return. “I’ll leave you two. Please, enjoy yourselves.” He returned to hosting the event, picking up conversations with everyone around him.

Kakashi was still grumbling and messing with his hair as Sakura tugged him back to her. She reached up and brought his arms back around her, massaging his upper arms. “Kakashi, please don’t be rude to him. We still might need more information from him later.”

“I know,” he muttered, offering no explanation. He would not know what to say to her. That he did not want to go back to the feeling of being a shinobi right now? That he actually preferred that innocent bliss he had felt for a few minutes back there with her?

Instead of pestering him, Sakura refocused his energy. “It’s okay to let yourself just be you sometimes, but at times, we don’t let out our best behavior.”

This felt almost like a continuation of their previous conversation, but Kakashi felt better whenever he let something off his chest to this short medical ninja. “I’m not used to holding back, when everyone back home knows to just let me be."

“Why is that?” Sakura asked, beginning to sway in place again.

“I’m not sure…” Kakashi said. “I think it’s because they know who I am, and that I’m not as nice as I ought to be.”

“You have it in you, I’ve seen it for myself,” Sakura replied, fixing her mask. Before Kakshi could ask when exactly, she continued. “But that happens to all of us. I know I’m far from being what I ought to be; sometimes I have to ask myself, will I ever be? But eventually, I just decided that others go to various lengths to hide their true selves. I used to do that, but people go to such lengths to hide their true selves. I used to do that, but it was exhausting.”

“I’m glad you don’t anymore. I like who I see in front of me.”

Sakura hid her smile by burrowing into Kakashi’s chest. He felt her speak against him. “Well, I can say the same to you, since I like who’s in front of me as well.”

A warm fuzzy feeling crept up from where she spoke, through his clothes, and into his heart. It pumped heat through his entire body, and Kakashi knew he had to cut this feeling off quick before he did something stupid.

So he did the stupidest thing he could think of: he mentioned the Uchiha. Mentioning her romantic interest should surely end his idiotic fantasies.

“Have you heard from Sasuke recently, Sakura?”

His question had the (reluctant) desired effect: Sakura removed her head from his chest, eyes scrunched in confusion. “No, why would I have?”

Kakashi raised his eyebrows. “Are you not in correspondence with the rogue ninja? I thought lovers kept in touch even over long distances.” Kakashi really had never approved of her and the Uchiha’s relationship; they’d seemed like an odd match, with far too much history and struggle. Some would have romanticized their past, and Kakashi would have it was in one of his novels. But in real life, he never forgave Sasuke for his actions.

Sakura blushed with embarrassment. “Kakashi, Sasuke and I were never lovers. I was a fool, believing to be in love with him. But that wasn’t love, it was a teenage infatuation. When he turned his back on Konoha, that was it for me.”

What? That was news to Kakashi. “But when he returned—"

Sakura cut him off. “I meant the second time. He could have stayed, but he went off alone. It’s his choice; I respect that. But it made me realize, when I didn’t feel anything when he walked away, that my feelings were gone, were temporary.” She stepped away from Kakashi, brushing out her dress as if Sasuke was the dirt sticking to her clothing. “I was never in love with Sasuke.”

I was never in love.

Her words broke Kakashi’s fixation of his goal. This changed everything in his mind. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, unsure how this revelation made him feel. It definitely affected him: he wanted to smile, wanted to rejoice in hearing that Sakura had finally realized how awful of a match the emotionless Uchiha was for her. Instead, he kept his cool. And he was damn proud of how well it did that.

“Don’t be,” Sakura responded, crossing her arms and looking away. “It never meant anything anyways.”

Dammit.

Now he was smiling again. Good thing Sakura was still gazing in the other direction, since this mask failed to cover up his emotional indicators.

“Regardless,” Kakashi reached out and drew her close again. “The Uchiha wasn’t good enough for you,” he said.

“Mmm,” Sakura said. Kakashi wasn’t sure if that was an agreement or not. But that did not matter, since his mind was elsewhere already.

Am I good enough?

But Kakashi didn’t have enough time to think about that, as Pakkun sent him a signal. His hand tightened on Sakura’s waist, and leaned in to whispered to her, “Pakkun is here, we need to find out what he’s discovered.”

Nodding, Sakura let Kakashi drag her from the dance floor and into an alleyway. They wound through the village for a few minutes until they were certain no one was following them, and they wouldn’t be found.

Pakkun ran up a few seconds later, ears flopping with sprint.

He stopped in front and center to Kakashi and Sakura, and started reporting without preamble.

“I found several places that are pretty well defended, but I assume some of those areas relate to this Land’s history, or precious items. There was one that seemed out of place, with an extraordinary amount of guards.”

“Describe it to me,” Kakashi demanded.

“It seemed to lead underground, but it was plain. Just gray concrete, airtight locks. But when someone walked through, I think I picked up the feint scent of plants.”

“That might be the one. We can’t go out again tonight, it would be too risky, but I need to you to survey this area a bit more. Once we have something definite, Sakura and I will make a move.”

Nodding, the dog disappeared in a puff of smoke. Rubbing his forehead, Kakashi looked to Sakura. “Do you want to go back to the festival?”

Sakura’s arms were crossed, one hand holding up her chin in deep thought. “No, my mind is back on mission-mode. Besides, Futoshi saw us, so our cover is still held in place.”

Slight disappointment raked Kakashi for a moment, as he already missed the intimacy of dancing with Sakura, whispering secrets to her that he’d never expressed to anyone else, except the night sky and the graveyard. But he had to agree with her; the magic of the previous few hours was gone, and his body was on high alert now.

Then a load growl permeated the alleyway. Eyes wide, Kakashi looked at Sakura who rubbed the back of her head in an apologetic motion.

“Ha, sorry, but sounds like my stomach has other ideas,” she said, embarrassed.

Kakashi laughed as well. “No problem. Let’s grab some little bites to eat, and head back. We can munch back at the inn.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kakashi reached out a hand. Sakura stared at it for a split movement before swiftly taking it in hers. “Let’s go, Kakashi,” she smiled up at him.

He smiled back down, loving the way she looked at that moment, still living the lie they were betrothed.

They gathered their food, and after having a mini feast, they resealed the rooms and went to bed. Laying there, Kakashi found sleep not coming easy to him, but not in the usual way. It was because he found himself explicitly admitting his feelings for the first time that day, and his mind was moving so fast he would not let him rest.

Kakashi realizes he wants more than what he currently had…. Being just friends.

He wanted Sakura.

But he could control himself, and control his body. He would never act on these feelings, now that they were in the open, at least to himself. It would be suicide to do so.

But the problem was, nobody can control what dreams they have.

And Kakashi dreamed of Sakura. The most talked about event of the festival final arrives -- the masquerade.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Depths Below: Masquerade, Part 1

)Happy to continue working on the conclusion of this fantastic work the fabulous writers who collaborate together have put together here.  “Masquerade” takes place directly after “Midnight Hour”  which is a five part simultaneous event detailing where each member of the order was, and what they were doing.  Marked in bold are the original authors and their work.  Thanks to all who support us and have continued sharing, liking and boosting our writing.  We’re so very thankful to have people appreciate other writers in this fantastic WRA community!  Please enjoy and spread the love!(

One and a half months after Kun-Lai

[ L.K ]  Kross was waiting in the massive council gathering hall. It was where he belonged in this time of need. It was where he would always end up waiting with Lazarius during these times of gathering.

More often that not he would be there setting out food and drinks for the guests who would be coming, arranging any paperwork and setting dossiers in their proper places. Ensuring the chairs were to the liking of each and every member of the order. But not this time; no, Kross was alone tonight.  He would be stepping in, where his Master could not.  And have to fill enormous shoes with keeping this powerful group banded, under such dire circumstance.

Though in what seemed like their darkest hour, he was reminded just how determined this group of individuals could be when faced with the most intrepid challenge.

When Zelinath, or 'Z' was bent on destroying them and sent his order of 'The Gallows' marching on their entrance hall. It was the Nine who stood tall, in fact there were several of them still alive today aside from just he and Lazarius who still served.

Kross needed to believe that this would be no different. The time had come for them all to begin making their way back to the Bastille, it'd been a rather quick gathering after the incident in Kun-Lai. They plotted, planned and dispatched as quickly as possible to handle the threat of eleven rogue magisters determined on squeezing every last drop from the Kashebahls.

They'd be gathering soon. The first of the many people to receive summons would be Siida Ray Kash'ebahl , and Zalra Azurestar. They were the first to leave, and the first to report back.

Pyravari Kash'ebahl would be the next. She was relatively close by dealing with a Magister who unfortunately decided that the nearby blighted tundra of Northrend would make a good outpost.

Verzatea Duskflame and Koltun Ancientveil would be next in the line of people who were to make their way back home into the Bastille after dealing with their needed Magister assignments.

The rest of Marseille, Brox and Whistletorque would all be on assignment.  The Shal’dorei had dispatched himself with plans on eliminating them all.  He was met in the jungles of Stranglethorn by Siida and Zalra.  Together they worked on their task.  As for the gnome and dwarf, one could only hope they’d not killed too many; by accident of course.

Even Lokiren , the mischievous illusionist who was leading the charge in Silithus with Morty Krazzlowe was invited to return. And if Koltun was going to have it his way, Raith would have also had been given the chance to stand beside his adopted Uncle, by way of the coming marriage of course.

Sennaris Dal'talah was also in the list of people to be summoned back to the Bastille at this point. She was charged with having to deal with her own Magister. The man known is Honeywell.

Honeywell was a very wealthy and rare posh Magister. But what he lacked in personality he well made up for in his fortunes and estate. She had worked her way up to the top of his staff, second only to his personal steward.

And now the waiting game. Kross would assume that within the coming minutes, the entire force of the council and eminent would enter. The hopeful Steward was waiting to hear success from them, waiting to hear some sign of resolve toward this matter. He hoped this would be over soon.

[ V.D ]   The Confessor's heels would clock noisily against the stone floor, her lithe figure dressed in a sleek floor length gown which tapered to her waist before fluttering toward the floor in a simple slip, the fabric caressing her long legs.  Further down the skirts of her dress was the color visibly darkening in its shade of blue; where as the top of her boat-neck collar was a shade of powder blue. Dark black bruises in the shape of a hand could be seen in stark contrast against the pale skin of her neck, her lightly bruised collar bone draped with a simple silver necklace with a single real finger bone dangling down toward the valley of her small bosom.

It was noticeable that her earrings were real finger bones as well. Well groomed and tightly wrangled silvery blonde hair was placed in a bun, silver leaf accessories twisted around the base of the bun. It was also noticeable, as she lifted her skirts to easily walk without fear of tripping into the hall, that her beloved serpent Go'Shal was curled around her left calf.

[ S.K ]   From the Grand Library, Siida made her way into the Council Hall and stood tall, confident...or at least she hoped she pulled off that look, knowing full well she would need it for the plan they were going to suggest. She smiled to Verzatea, the woman always took her breath away with how stylish she appeared.

[ L.K ]   Not any further behind the younger sister of the Kashebahls than her own shadow, would be the ancient shade who had since taken up a post as her guardian. He was only several paces to her back, his hands tucked nearly against the base of his spine much like his own master who stood in a familiar fashion. Marseille would have an amani tomahawk there, but with some careful navigation; that too could be worked around.

At the entrance of the Council Halls, he would see Verzatea. And in a most unexpected way, bow himself at the waist. Not a simple head nod, not a half assed glance, but a full bow at the hips.

"Confessor Duskflame, I am exuberantly pleased to see you have succeeded in your task, unharmed and undefeated as always." The ironic part about his exuberance was it was hardly able to be detected due to his often times flat and monotone voice, but it was there.

[ V.D ]   The small smile extended toward Siida would slacken only slightly upon addressing Marseille. She felt conflict, given she had a desire to lash out and condemn him for not trusting the rest of the Nine to begin hunting the Magisters.. But too, she wanted to congratulation him in his success.

She opted for a very pointed stare before she'd turn her gaze toward Siida, hands gently smoothing the skirts of her dress down,

"I'm pleased you're both home, alive and seemingly well. How is Zalra? I've not seen her recently..."

[ S.K ]   “She did very well and came to my aid in Stranglethorn when I needed it, as did Marseille...last I saw her, I was helping her to bed since we drank a little too much in celebration. I'm glad to see that you are home, you were missed.”  the celebration was in fact an evening wrought with laughs, truths and even a bit of embarrassment when the origin of the mysterious Nestor Lightbottom came to light.

[ L.K ]   Marseille would remain silent for now, choosing to at this point concede to the women who were a bit more comfortable with one another. It was true that he and Siida, and even Zalra had bonded on their trip. Learning a bit about one another, and becoming more friendly. He would need to mend bridges with Verzatea, now was not that time though.

[ V.D ]   The Confessor gave a brighter smile then, one that dared to reach her tired eyes. She seemed elated by the idea that she was cared for, and frankly even Tea couldn't deny the flutter in her chest. Though she'd voice her glee only with a softly spoken tone.

"Perhaps we may all celebrate together when the Nine is whole once again."

Quietly the maiden would find her seat, her eyes low the entire while she ran from her emotions and the blasted individuals who managed to drudge up such emotions... How dare they gently hammer and chip away at her wall.

[ L.K ]   "Lady Duskflame." came the tired and withered voice of the old gilnean. "Miss Kash’ebahl."

Kross would step into the light and offer a seat beside where Pyravari would be sitting that evening. The center obviously was left open for Lazarius.

"Please make yourselves comfortable."

Marseille would enter the room, and yet not offer anything more than a nod to the old man. He would take a place by the wall behind where Siida would be sitting. Ever silent and always watching.

[ S.K ]   Siida sat down in the chair she was given, feeling so small in them, but she sat as tall as she could and began to rehearse what she would need to say in her head.

[ Z.A ]   Perhaps finding familiarity at the bottom of bottles was not the best practice Zalra could be performing. She found herself nursing so many hangovers that she became numb to the feeling, almost. Imagine that. But, despite this very minor setback, the ren'dorei walked down the lavishly decorated hall with a militaristic poise; straight back and purpose to her movements.

It was out of habit considering her undercover infiltration of Alliance plans. Though, in her current garb, such a formal pace seemed...odd. Instead of armor; which would have proved to be more fitting, the huntress was wearing a lovely, two-layered gown. The dress underneath was black and slim fitting, while a sheer, sapphire lace accented layer draped over. It was accented with a cute collar and a matching satin sash around her waist. And in terms of jewelry, Zalra kept just her disguising amulet hanging around her neck.

As per usual. Nothing too fancy, right? Even her shoes were mere flats. And her hair only curled neater and out of her face. Entering the room, Zalra bowed her head politely to those gathered.

“Evening” she greeted. “Sorry if I am...er...late...?”

[ S.K ]   Siida simply stared at Zalra...jaw hanging open a little, the woman looked stunning. There was a little hand wave; innocent and playful, it was exchanged like two classmates realizing they were in the same study hall.

[ P.K ]   From the depths of the chamber, leading down the hall and into the grand entrance, the sound of a large winged beast could be hear squawking and hounding the students and workers as if to say, 'get out of her way'.

Pyravari Kash'ebahl could be heard marching down the saronite and stone hallway, the heavy clash of her boots against the polished rock only adding to the menacing caw of the avian messenger. Within minutes of the heavy footsteps breaking even the thickest of conversations in that room, the burst of cold energy and a radiant blue black glow would erupt from the hall and pour into the chambers.

Vari carried a heavy frozen aura that seemed to only be exuded when she was angry, murdering, fighting or angrily murdering in a fight. She was pissed that such a miserable creature had attempted to not only get the better of her using an illusion army. But also by trying to feign immunity. That piss-ant.

"What news Kross?" Pyravari snarled as she entered toward the table where her throne would be waiting; empty, and chilled, just as she liked it.

"Have we learned anything yet, his where-about, a hint even a whisper?"

She would move in closer and see her sister and Verzatea were both there already. Had they out-done her? That would be a rather remarkable feat. She nodded toward the Confessor only once, half a smile. More than usual. She then eyed her carefully. "Confessor. . .thank you for your diligent work. . ."

Her cerulean eyes drifted toward her baby sister; as she worked her way behind them, she would collapse into the seat beside her and place a hand over her shoulder.

"Siida. You had a tremendous task to complete. . .you did well. We. . .I. . .am proud of you."

And thus she went silent as she waited.

[ S.K ]  Siida was pulled out of her stupor by Vari's words and again...shock was all she could really offer and bowed her head, happy to have done her sister proud.

[ V.D ]   Verzatea all but remained silent when Vari entered the room.  Even when addressed as she wanted to hear what was said to the younger silbling, such the woman would clear her throat after and bow her head toward her.  It was a lingering mid head bob to absorb the fact that, yes, the backhanded compliment was still more compliment than back hand.

"For The Nine," she muses out, lowering her wand to the table, as well as her glass.

[ L.K ]   "Stop with the formalities, please." scoffed Kross, he was in no shape to be handling an organized meeting right now.  Verzatea was not getting any brownie points tonight. She was and had been on his shit list since she began slacking on her duties.

"Enough of this melodrama. Lazarius has not been heard from. We have not been able to track him.  He remains alive though because the Bastille is still standing.  If he was lost to us the countermeasure would have taken effect." Kross answered to Vari as he moved to bring the pitcher of water to the table, that way others could drink. "But results. . .you have all been successful, otherwise I know we would not be here . ."

[ V.D ]   How viciously the Confessor bit her tongue, her golden eyes staring holes into the ghostly stewards head. She felt guilt begin to swarm her and eat away at her frustrations when she dared to consider asking if he was moving on from this life yet.

Instantly the woman let forth a soft sigh.

"And what is our next course of action?"  She'd proceed to glance around the table to the rest of the order, "Does the final Magister; this Dawnseeker, know his comrades are dead? Does he have an idea that we're coming?"

[ L.K ]   Marseille would be standing to the back, but he would in fact notice Zalra when she walked in. More than likely other men would have been jaw dropped and floored. He was not outside the realm of mortal desires, though would keep it in check. He offered her a nod, it was a nod that seemed to keep him trained on her legs for a bit longer than usual, but a nod none the less.

"From what I know." the Shal’dorei said in a calm, and empty tone after ogling Zalra for a bit too long.

"When I was planning to eliminate these Magisters prior to all of this taking place, The Master assured me that these men knew nothing of The Nine, any of us, or the order. They were extorting the Kashebahl estate. And they were separated by many different venues. Some of them were in the shipping and transfer departments. Some were customs. Some were strictly for weapons. None of them had anything to do with one another. Dawnseeker. . .is the man behind the attack."

Marseille would nudge Siida's chair. It was her turn to speak about what they learned from Sunwood. "I will defer to the Matron, and beg for forgiveness for the interruption."

[ S.K ]   Siida's heart leapt up into her throat as she stood from her seat to address everyone, as this effected everyone.

"While in Stranglethorn, we learned something interesting...Sunwood had no idea what it was that he'd been backing when it came to Lazarius's abduction....the man is spineless and easily manipulated....he's agreed to be in our pocket and could be use to us through some of our other connections."

Siida took a breath as she felt like fainting, public speaking made her stomach flip.

"We also learned that Dawnseeker hosts a private event once a month for those he trusts the most, keeps the closest, and likely means the most to him from a power stand point....it is our belief that Sunwood could get those of us willing to go undercover,  to this party, giving us perfect surprise and a point to attack from, to end this siege on our order, on my family and allow us to return to Silvermoon and repair what damage has been done so that we may flourish again."

Quickly sat back down and plopped her hands on the table before her.

“Thank you. . .” she added before piping down quietly once more.

[ V.D ]   Gently the Confessor tapped a long coffin shaped nail against the top of her thigh, leaning back into her seat whilst her eyes peered right through Siida.  Absolutely lost in her own thoughts whilst considering the provided information.

"I imagine his parties are littered with security... If only a few of us can get through, it could be rather dangerous. Taking into account the off chance that the security is so good that shades and other stealthy operatives in our order cannot get through..," she'd slowly slip back to reality, blinking once before tilting her head.

"Unless hes coaxed away from prying eyes and dealt with quickly."

[ P.K ]   Pyravari was far less amused at the topic that was being spoken of. Her cold blue eyes were peered between everyone that had come. In the wake of the discussion, she would be trying to formulate a plan through everything that was said there.

"If I have learned anything from all of this, it is that Dawnseeker will not be so easily lured into a false sense of security.  The ones he surrounded himself with were clever, wealthy and powerful.  I would deduce he is within the top of his class, if not the top. It would be wise to attempt nothing until the remaining member of his network have been dealt with. . . which leads us to Sennaris. . ."

[ Z.A ]   Zalra would simply flash those who had their gazes lingered on her a playful smirk. The staring only seemed to fuel her with confidence, which she was desperately lacking at that point. While the others began to speak of their missions and what was gained from them, the huntress took a seat near Siida.

[ S.K ]   Siida sat quietly, offering a weak smile to Zalra s the woman took her seat, she felt like she'd let Marseille done...maybe he should have been the one to speak.

[ V.D ]   Que a slight breeze to meander by Siida, soon would pink and purple petaled flowers begin to fabricate from thin air. Falling near, upon and around Siida. Drifting lazily, carrying a lavender like scent in their wake... Absolutely calming if not entrancing.

Of course, Verza would deftly tuck her wand away before glancing every now and again away from Vari to see if she had succeeded in making Siida a little happy.

[ K.A ]   Koltun, fashionably late as always, strode calmly into the hall, boot heels clicking softly with each measured step. He wore his bandana over those terrifyingly empty sockets, though the aged fabric did little to conceal the glow of felfire shining through from twin orbs replacing a once shrewd emerald gaze.

Without a word, the demon hunter made his way to Vari, taking his place at her side with a casual flex of those large, leathery wings. He offered those gathered a cursory once over, then stood at attention, clasping clawed hands behind his back beneath the curved edges of twin blades hooked to the thick leather harness cross crossing his bare chest. Bright tattooing cast an eery green glow upon the Harbinger at his side, illuminating pale scarring that marred the muscled expanse of a well toned, now thickly scaled frame.

With a dip of his curved horns, he acknowledged the others and waited patiently to offer his own report, his presence alone a clear indication he was successful.

[ S.D ]   Sennaris enters quietly, not making eye contact with any of the others until she moves to her seat. She looks disheveled; her light purple robe wrinkled, dark circles forming under her eyes and her hair more out of control than usual. She mouthed a silent apology to them all as she found where her seat would be located.  With a sigh she looked to Kross, he would pass her the floor with a hand in her direction and she gave a nod before speaking; looking to the others as she does.

“Magister Honeywell. I have been working very closely with him and have gained his utmost trust. Both with and without my..powers of persuasion I have managed to have more control over him than he is even aware of. We can begin to set a plan into motion.”

She smooths out her robe before placing her palms into the table. Her attention moves to Siida. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“You’ve done impressively well. Are you ready to finish this?”

Once more looking around the room to everyone , “I believe we have all done well, know that I am proud of each of you for your hard work in our search for Lazarius.”

[ S.K ]   Siida offered a smile back to Sennaris, happy to have the woman's approval. She'd helped Siida greatly..especially on a matter that her brother was never, ever to learn about. "Yes....I'm more than ready, it's time we bring Lazarius home."

Was also wearing a big smile from the flowers that Verzatea had crafted around and rained upon her, such a flower child.

[ L.K ]   “So, what we currently have in our inventory is as follows.”. Kross would slowly make his way toward the group of them as Sennaris added her input.

“Magister Sunwood in our back pocket and indebted to Miss Kashebahl. Magister Honeywell under the manipulation of The Compellor . And the other four eliminated. That leaves us with Honeywell and four. Dawnseeker will be dealt with after this...”   Kross motioned toward Sennaris after.

Marseille then spoke from the silent corner behind Siida and Zalra. “If we can urge Honeywell to host the gala, I believe Magister Sunwood can be convinced to fuel the event and provide a rather nice cherry on top, would you not agree Matron?”

[ S.K ]   “I would like to volunteer myself as bait...for lack of a better...and surely less detested word these Magisters are after what this family can provide them...having the possibility to think that all living Kash'ebahl siblings are under thumb and or..." And Siida clearly didn't like the word she was about to use. "Disposed of....they will let their guard down only further.”

[ L.K ]   “Bait...”. Kross said curiously. He peered toward Verzatea, then Vari, then Sennaris and Zalra. Koltun? Anyone?

[ P.K ]    Vari hissed and shook her head. “No, absolutely not, we cannot put you into senseless danger and risk losing you...”

[ L.K ]   “ “I am curiously leaning toward the same thought but, Miss Kashebahl how can we ensure your safety? How are we to know we can keep you safe with these six men at a party where you are the bait? Kross added while the others seemed to be in thought.

[ V.D ]   "Perhaps if others of the council and elite forces of our army were smuggled in as guests it would be doable. Frankly, I'm not convinced they would kill her, or harm her in any physical way," Verzatea remarked, her gaze lingering on Siida in this moment.

"She's too valuable to them. She's beautiful, sophisticated and young which, to them, means naive. They'd think she's easy to manipulate."

[ S.K ]   “Verzatea is right, and I proved as much with Sunwood before in Stranglethorn, both Marseille and Zalra can attest that he was easily drawn in by every factor our Confessor spoke of....and I trust my life with anyone in this room, to doubt that is to doubt yourselves and we can't have that, not now.”  the young girl would state her case and clearly hold firm in her belief of it.

[ L.K ]   “They were prepared to turn her over to Dawnseeker for a hefty price. Perhaps death is not the most useful outcome for her but giving her alive as a martyr to be torture her.”. Marseille chimed in and stood next to Siida, a hand on her shoulder.

“I think the Confessor has made an excellent point, we need to implant ourselves into this event to keep control. Miss Azurestar has volunteered to pose as the Lady Sunwood and keep tabs on our magister mole and Siida. It would be wise to allow Sennaris to remain at the side of Honeywell.”

Marseille then nodded and motioned toward Verza. “Would you care to offer the Bakery as the catering service? I could pose as an employee and you the hostess...”

His pinkish eyes drifted back toward the others, a hand toward The Compellor.

“Granted there will be several services offering food but Sennaris could push to have us invited to serve the deserts.”

[ V.D ]   Arching a single, well groomed brow the Confessor would incline her head, her mind wandering to the Delightful Delicacies and the few employee's she had garnered over the course of the businesses existence. A cruel thought popped into her head then, eyes wandering around the table as she voiced.

"Perhaps, if Delightful Delicacies is granted an invitation into the party, we could take advantage. Delicious, high quality pastries for only the prestigious Magisters? It only so happens they be drugged." She'd linger momentarily before huffing, dropping her chin into her hand, leaning her elbow heavily against the arm of her chair.

"Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. We cant predict that the Magisters would gather together away from the party to be targeted so easily..." Exhaling from flared nostrils she'd wave her free hand about, musing,

"Though I'd be honored to be among those infiltrating the event. This wouldn't be my first party, either, I know how to behave among the high class."

[ L.K ]   “No but we can predict that they will gather when Honeywell and Sunwood promote that they have captured the last living member of the Kashebahl estate. They will come.”. Marseille squeezed Siidas shoulder and peered toward Verzatea.

“And no. Poison will affect guests that are not our targets. Honeywell and the four elitist magisters will be dealt with, we will not harm those who do not require it.”. Amazingly it seemed his stance was much more on the side of the young sister than even his master and his wanton desire to kill.

“The Matron will be in command of this mission, and I will ask the council to take a vote if that is to be challenged. This is her plan and I will see to it she commands the order through it.”

[ V.D ]   “No no," Tea smiled then, seemingly amused that one would think she was so cruel she'd poison people, "Not kill. Simply... Immobilize.”

She waved a hand regardless; perhaps it was not a solid idea to start drugging them all.  At least not yet.

[ S.K ]   Siida let out a soft breath, thankful to have Marseille's stronger voice as she wasn't sure she could stand at the moment....grateful that the table was hiding the shaking in her knees.

[ L.K ]   Marseille shook his head and peered away from from Verzatea, it seemed sensible but poor in taste. He would silence himself at that point and leave the council to decide how things should play.

[ P.K ]   Vari then cleared her throat and posed a question.

“What of Koltun and I? If this is to be a mission of deception and espionage, we should remain out of sight. Surely a Lich and Demon will expose the order? We do not want the Nine being seen involved in such an incident.” 

She would peer at Koltun, then back at Siida.

“These magisters who will be attending, will they have personal entourages and soldiers who will accompany them yes? Perhaps Koltun and I can silently eliminate these threats before the guests of the party can realize. Keep things silent and clean.”

[ V.D ]   For a long period Verzatea kept her eyes on Siida's face, inspecting for any sign or piece or evidence that this task was too heavy for her shoulders. Verza knew Siida wasn't naive like some might think, she was wizened and had a soul older than Gods. But even the strong can crumble under too much pressure, coaxing Verzatea to assure Siida, just after Varis spoken up.

"Do not think you're alone in this, Siida. We are all ready to serve and fight for one another. Put us to use.  We will not fail."  she said softly enough so the young woman could hear.

It was more like she was standing the obvious. And she was. She was stating the obvious in hopes to quell any nerves or doubt. Together they all absolutely could succeed.

[ S.K ]   “It is not the fear of standing alone Verzatea, quite the opposite, I wouldn't make this plan known if I didn't believe that you all would stand together and take this chance as it is the best chance we have....”

“...as for the guards and entourages..."

Siida had to think long and hard, but her morals and convictions were not to be changed.

"We do not truly know how loyal they are to their masters....if fighting should break out and it is done quickly and concisely I believe this could be a low casualty event...but I'm aware that is wishful thinking.”

To Be Continued. . . . “In Depths Below: Masquerade, Part 2″

@siidaraykashebahl

@pyravari-kashebahl

@whatadarkbitch

@daltalah

@thebladeitself

@zalraazurestar

[maj0rmayhem]

I Wish I Were Blind (so i didn’t know) Ch 1

Chapter Title: The Curse of Sight (Klaus)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Injury Description

Summary: Something in Diego’s face snapped, crumbling as he turned his gaze away, “Klaus he’s not here because he’s dead, okay? I fucked up on the mission and couldn’t to him in time to stop it! Are you satisfied now?”

The Umbrella Academy learns of the death of their Number Six

An air of worry hung thick over the Academy. Diego and Ben were supposed to be back hours ago. If there was one thing that didn’t vary in their lives, it was schedules. Even on missions, Reginald built time in case anything went wrong, and when they had gone out, there had been two hours of what they liked to refer to as “shit hits the fan” time.

It was also when the first seeds of anxiety set in. Most missions didn’t even have an hour built in, much less two, and Ben and Diego had never been sent on a mission alone together, without the others there their powers were considered “too aggressive”. Klaus personally thought that was bullshit, but never really thought about it beyond that until now.

Now it was all he could think about. What had that meant, what it could mean. The house was dark. The five of them had snuck back into the living room after curfew to wait for their return. Luther and Allison were whispering in the corner, curled up near the fireplace, shoulders tense and eyes flickering around the room like all they had to do was wish hard enough and their waiting would be over. Five was sitting in one of the many armchairs, legs and arms crossed and trying his hardest to look bored, to make it look like the furrow in his brow was from aggravation and not mounting unease. Vanya was pacing, her steps blending with the rain pounding on the windows until they became one monotonous drone. And Klaus… Klaus was curled on the couch, his head tucked between his knees and replaying his last conversation with Ben over and over until the words distorted and bit at his already fraying emotions.

“I just, I dunno man, something about this seems really off Benny-Bear”

“God, somehow the nicknames just keep getting worse,”

“No! I’m serious! I know I haven’t gotten good at reading the cards yet -”

“Klaus, last week you swore up and down the cards were telling you to dye your hair pink,”

“Yeah and maybe if I had I would have avoided this haircut. But, that's not the point! Every time I look at them I keep getting Death. Like seriously. Last night I pulled Death four times. That's not physically possible! Are you going to try and tell me that’s not a sign?”

“I mean, it might have to do with something else. You are connected to Death, and besides, I’ll have Diego with m-”

“I’m serious, Ben! Something is seriously wrong and I just think you going on a mission with the one person you’re not supposed to at the same time is a little convenient!”

Klaus hadn’t used his name in years. Not since he found more amusement in nicknames. Ben was silent.

“I’m… scared, okay? You’re right, I don’t know exactly what they’re trying to tell me. But it can’t be anything good,”

“I’ll… I’ll be careful, okay? You know I can’t just...not go. Lives are at risk, Klaus. I can’t… I can’t back out because I’m scared.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Thick with tension, until Ben retreated to the dresser (messy, but that was probably Klaus’s fault. He liked Ben’s mirror better). With a soft smile, he grabbed a small string bracelet. It was dark blue, with three faded purple beads on the center. The two had made them one night when Klaus had knocked on his door, in tears because of the screaming. It was the closest they ever got to a normal sibling activity. The smile grew slightly and he slipped it on while Klaus watched silently,

“For good luck, right? I’ll have you watching over me. You and your spooky friends.” Ben stepped forward and flicked at Klaus, who dodged out of the way and snorted,

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We’ll be there to watch you get your ass kicked,” And then he surged up to wrap the other in a tight hug.

Now, he looked down and fiddled at the ratty bracelet on his own wrist. It had the inverted colors of Ben’s: purple string, and dark blue beads. Ben didn’t wear it with his uniform normally, not after the first time. Klaus didn’t give a shit what Father Dearest had to say about it.

Gradually, the occupants of the room left. First, Vanya and her pacing retreated up the steps, although Klaus doubted she would sleep. Then Allison and Luther, still whispering as they disappeared. The last to go was Five, but when he left, he literally disappeared, Klaus looked up and he was just gone, having jumped to god-knows-where.

So that left Klaus alone, wide awake and curled up and staring at the front door with an intensity like he could summon them. That's the way he stayed for the next hour, hardly moving, barely daring to breathe like doing so would break the silence and reveal his darkest fear.

He wasn’t sure when it happened. One moment he was starting to nod off, and the next moment there was the sound of a choked sob from the front foyer and a figure curled on the ground.

Klaus shot up so fast the world spun, but he rushed forward regardless.

“Ben? Diego? Are you guys alright? Where have you been?! We were all worried sick!”

Very softly, more like a sigh of wind than a voice, he heard, “K-Klaus?”

Said boy immediately dropped to his knees in front of the figure, “Yeah, Ben. Where’s Diego?”

“I-I don’t know. E-Everything was so chaotic, a-and we got separated and i-it really hurt and then… then…”

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay.” His hands hovered uncertainly over his brother, not sure if or where he was hurt, “Geez, you’re shaking like a leaf. Come on, let’s warm you up,”

The commotion brought footsteps echoing behind him. Light and hesitant. Vanya. He knew she wouldn’t be asleep.

“Vanya, thank god! Ben’s back and I… I think he’s hurt but I can’t see and I don’t want to leave him. Can you get the lights for me, pretty please?”

“Oh… oh my God, yeah. Yeah of course,” Warm yellow light flooded the room following the panicked exclamation, and Klaus immediately flinched backward.

Ben was covered in blood. That wasn’t technically what alarmed him (they’d all seen it before) (Well, except maybe Vanya) (which made her sudden silence… odd). For the first time, he could tell the blood was mostly Ben’s. There was a deep cut from his left temple to the bridge of his nose, he was curled protectively over his chest and stomach, where blood was steadily leaking, forming a pool beneath him. There were tear stain tracks through the grime on his face, and his mask was missing as he looked up at Klaus, confused and frightened.

“Jesus fuck!”

“Klaus, I don’t-” Vanya tried to cut in, only to be interrupted.

“Let me… let me get Mom or something… she, she can help just don’t… don’t move!”

Ben winced, “Klaus, wait -”

But before anyone could get any further than Klaus scrambling to his feet, the front door burst open in a loud crash, revealing Diego. He stood leaning on the doorway and there was a similar slash across his face, although it looked much shallower than the one marring Ben’s. His face was grim and somber as he looked at the startled group.

“Get the others,”

“B-But what about Ben! We can’t just… leave him here!” Klaus gestured wildly to the curled figure, who was looking between the two almost helplessly.

“We’re not leaving him anywhere because he’s not here, Klaus. Now is not the time for your games,” Diego’s reply was curt.

“What do you mean? He’s sitting right there and obviously bleeding out on our floor, Diego!”

Something in Diego’s face snapped, crumbling as he turned his gaze away, “Klaus he’s not here because he’s dead, okay? I screwed up on the mission and couldn’t get to him in time to stop it! Are you satisfied now?”

Everything in Klaus suddenly went very still, and his gaze slowly traveled back down to Ben, who underneath the fright on his face, his gaze looked unbearably guilty.

“Benny-Bear?” Klaus breathed, slowly slinking back to his knees and reaching for his brother, watching in an almost detached horror as his hand phased right through his shoulder.

“I… I tried to tell you, Klaus.” Ben murmured, looking up at his brother, the fright fully giving way to sadness.

“What… what happened?” It was Vanya who asked.

“We were separated, Ben… lost c-control and I couldn’t reach him fast enough to talk him down before it… ended,” Diego explained, voice rough as though he were fighting for each word.

“I didn’t even realize what happened at first. That was why I was so hysterical when you first found me,” Ben explained, shivering slightly, “No one ever told me being dead would be so cold,” He chuckled, but it was jagged and broken, lacking any mirth.

Klaus shook his head, ignoring whatever was going on above him as the rest scrambled into the room, “No. Fuck that, Ben. Fuck trying to be brave right now.” His voice broke, and he wiped aggressively at the tears on his face, breaking down as the weight of what talking to Ben right now truly meant hit him, “You just died. You get to be scared. You get to be- fuck Ben, you shouldn’t have to be going through this shit,” In that moment, Ben looked so small, he had always been one of the smallest, but now, curled up and covered in his own blood, breaking down, he had never looked smaller. He looked so lost, and confused and endlessly, endlessly frightened of what his existence would be as his cries caught in his throat. Klaus wanted nothing more than to gather him into his arms and assure him that it was okay, and he wouldn’t be alone. Instead, he let himself cry too, and though he knew Ben wouldn't feel it, silently placed one hand over top one of Ben’s relishing in the quiet feedback of energy back through his arm. Ben looked up and offered a watery smile, and Klaus returned it.

For years, he had wished to be rid of his powers, but now, at this moment, he was grateful for them. He may never hug his brother again, but he caught a glimpse of the bracelet still tied to Ben’s wrist and knew that he was luckier than most. He would learn to still have Ben, count himself lucky they could still be there for each other, for better or worse.

 It would have to be enough.

[fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction]

Family Matters

Not much is known of Meera, and that’s the way she prefers it, even if it means leaving herself alone in the world. Or perhaps she’s not as alone as she thought?

"...and then the kids went and pulled the pinata down! You should have seen it, they were like little hyenas! I'll send you the video!" a bright tone was easy to hear in the young woman's voice on the phone. Meera smiled as she listened, loading her dishwasher and pressing buttons for cleanup.

"Whose birthday was this?" she asked, the speakerphone picking up her question.

"Letti's; she turned eight. Tia Marie splurged on the party and invited the whole family...!" The voice trailed off into the silence of someone who realized they said too much.

Meera smiled tightly despite knowing the phone wasn't set to video calling. "It's okay. I wouldn't have been able to make it anyway. Looking for a job and all that. Bills to pay," she remarked as casually as she could. "Thanks for sending the video though!"

"Have you... reconsidered changing back?" the voice asked quietly.

"No," Meera shook her head, voice firm and resolved. There was silence in the air between her and the voice on the phone. She took a deep breath and pressed the button to key on the dishwasher. "Tell me what else happened this week. Did Lupe get that book he was after?"

"Oh my god, he wouldn't shut up about it! Okay, so what happened was..."

Meera collected her mail and sifted through the letters. A few late payment notices that she set aside to work with and juggle, offers for credit cards she fed to her scented candle, the usual. There were also a few notes from relatives, last names only marked with a 'C' for privacy reasons, addresses from a post box that wasn't connected to a physical location.

She opened those and was treated to a few store-bought greeting cards, signed by those few cousins that still wanted to keep touch in some way. Well-wishes from the older ones, questions of why she never visits from the younger ones, folded bills of money tucked inside pocket envelopes for assistance.

Meera read the notes, counted the money to see which bill would eat them first, and spent a few minutes afterwards in silent tears, burying her face in her arms as she huddled at the kitchen table.

"What do you plan to do for Thanksgiving?" the bright voice on the phone asked, a hint of concern in her tone.

"Same as before," Meera replied with a shrug. She stretched out her legs before tucking them in underneath herself, curled up in her favorite recliner. She would have preferred stretching out on her sofa but it was currently occupied.

"Eating takeout and watching novellas is kind of sad to do for that day," the voice sighed in exasperation. "Are you sure about not changing back?"

"Did you not see the news about Afton Robotics?" Meera countered dryly. "I'm dead serious about what I did and I'm not changing." She stretched out a leg again and wiggled her toes, watching them pass through the translucent blues of the figure sleeping on her couch. "Anyways, takeout and novellas is okay. I can catch up on the episodes I missed while working."

"How about Lupe and I come over and have dinner with you sometime?"

Meera opened her mouth, then closed it, humming in consideration. "You won't get in trouble with the others for it, Adriana?" she asked after a moment. The other woman laughed brightly, but the tone didn't sound genuine.

"Oh, what does it matter? We're family, prima! We stick together!"

Now she felt irritation flare up. "Oh? Like they stuck together when they decided to cut me out and send me as far from everyone as they could?" she bit out, tears she had bottled up on that day springing up hot and resentful.

"They're just scared. Can you really blame them?" Adriana replied softly. There was the faint scratches of pencil on paper and Meera used the lull in the conversation to rub her eyes dry. She wiggled her toes again, smiling a bit at the figure shifting to 'rest' her toes in a spot to allow more constant contact. "So I'll bring those tamales Papi used to make, I got better at making them, and Lupe will bring arroz, and we can make the rest at your place and have dinner together! Just the three of us!"

"You're actually gonna try that?" Meera asked, one eyebrow raising in disbelief.

"Mhm!"

She decided not to put her hopes on it.

Three applications out and no return calls. Meera sighed into her cup of coffee while Stephanie pat her shoulder comfortingly. Their meetups at Meera's favorite coffee shop were starting to lean more to Steph's favor of paying for drinks when before they had been on equal footing. It hurt but Meera was grateful all the same for being able to go to her calm spot.

"You think people know I'm the one responsible for Afton Robotics imploding like that?" she whispered, looking up at Steph with wounded puppy eyes. The fashion designer sighed and shook her head slightly.

"I doubt it. Your name was never properly registered, right? All they know is a man named Eggs Benedict managed to wreck the place and set off an explosion that took out the front business." She gave a little shrug. "There's not even word of the underground facility being discovered."

Meera sighed again. Small miracle, that. She still wasn't sure if the Master File's source code was still active down there. She hoped not, for people's sakes. Not with the Afton Family's plans for manipulating life and death still in its clutches....

"Have you tried applying for college again? Maybe some education can open more opportunities!" Steph suggested. Meera cringed, clutching her mug closer to herself.

"Kinda dropped out at one point before I took that job at Circus Baby's. I don't think they'd be happy if I came back with debts on my head and acting like I can just pick up where I left off," she replied. Not to mention that she would have to fill out the information honestly and that would raise some red flags in conflict with her identification.

"What about opening your own shop? Teach classes on self-defense?" Steph tried another idea. Meera lifted her head from her slump, blinking as she thought it over.

That could work, if she had the money to start a business. If she started her own, her identity wouldn't matter to anyone but herself and the institutions who were already aware.

"I'll look into it," Meera replied and then waved her hand to shoo the subject away. "So tell me about this guy you've been seeing. Is he cute? Is he sweet? Does he have any available siblings?" She smiled widely at her friend's sputtering and stammering, enjoying the lighter side of their get-together.

"Weeeeeee-" Stephanie had a habit of dragging out words longer than needed, eyes wide and teeth bared in a smile that made Damien bury his face in Ven's chest to escape it, "-should have a dinner party at your place!"

Meera lifted her head from her hand where she had rested it while looking at her letter tiles for the board game the bunch of them were playing. "Huh?" She blinked, lost, then felt a slight headache come on as Steph continued smiling widely at her. "What?"

"A dinner party! We come over with some dishes, cook the rest at your place, and just have dinner together! It'll be fun!" the fashion designer went on cheerfully.

"It'll be cramped," Meera countered, worry flooding into her stomach and making her skin feel cold. "You know my apartment's tiny."

"I had lunch with you there, it's not that small," Steph shot back with a wave of her hand.

"There's not much I have in the way of groceries for cooking," Meera said, fingers fiddling with the tiles.

"Then we'll just bring everything," Ven replied easily, fingers running soothingly through Damien's hair. "Just go with it. You know how Steph can be."

Meera sighed, a faintly exasperated smile on her face. She knew. "Fine, fine. Just give me time to clean up the place. What time are we doing this?" she gave in with a laugh.

Meera stared at the stack of bills and notices until a hand swept them away from her sight. She blinked and looked up at Lucian's stern expression. "You're supposed to be cleaning, not moping," he told her and walked off with the stack in his hand. "I'll put these away. If you can stand there for hours looking at these, imagine how captivating they might be for someone else."

She couldn't help but smile at his words. Scolding as they sounded, she knew the words he actually meant underneath them. Feeling a bit better, Meera went back to dusting off shelves and tables, tidying up her magazines and books, and setting her workout equipment to lock in place for safety.

It used to be she would put on music to keep the apartment sounding lively as she cleaned on her own. The silence otherwise suffocated her and made it to where she could only do small sections at a time before heading out to the garden to relax or watch her shows.

Now she listened to the chatter of her ghostly roommate as he criticized the clutter on her shelves, the clothes she threw into a corner of her room when she didn't feel bothered to put them in the laundry basket, and the lack of maintenance of her vacuum cleaner when he hauled it out to use on the carpet. Meera still had music on, but it was tuned to the energetic dance songs of mariachi bands, giving her the chance to grin and laugh when a particularly nice one came on and Lucian danced to the melody with the vacuum as his partner.

She danced along as she continued her part of the cleanup, feeling lighter than before.

"...and that's why my last commission has a ten-year-old's doodle incorporated in it!" Ven declared with a rueful smile over a glass of mixed juice. Meera found herself laughing along with Steph and Damien at the story.

The apartment was full of sound and warmth from the talking and cooking that had taken place. The dinner table was laden with food, enchiladas and Shepherd's pie and chicken curry and spinach leaf salad and cheesecake. A variety of foods that Meera wouldn't have thought she'd be eating in one dinner had been shared, which made her appreciate her friends that much more.

Stories of childhoods were shared, and Meera shared a few memories of her own, carefully sifting out any unneeded information and focusing on the fun she had playing family games. Sometimes she would wave a hand dismissively whenever Lucian poked his head up from the sofa to squint at her for her words. It didn't matter.

The phone rang, interrupting the group as they portioned out dessert to take to the living room and continue chatting in a more relaxing area. Meera gave it a puzzled look but headed over to pick up. A debt collector? Had her notices and final warnings caught up to her at last?

"Meera~!" Adriana's voice was bright and chipper as always on the phone. She pulled it away from her ear for a moment before daring to hold the receiver close again. "I am sooo sorry! Things came up and I had to babysit some of the cousins and Lupe went out of town for his 'supplies'." Meera gave a sad smile and shook her head in fond exasperation. "I really wish we were able to come by to have dinner with you. I can't stand to think of you out there by yourself. Family matters, no matter what the others in it think!"

By herself...?

She blinked, confusion on her face. That's right. She'd been sent out to be on her own, away from family that could be dragged down because of who she chose to be and the path she took in life. And yet...

Meera looked over at the group of people that had come into her life since moving to the town to live on her own. There was her ghostly companion talking casually with Damien about the Shepherd's pie and cheesecake he'd brought, eyes glancing up to check on her now and then. There was Ven, smiling happily as he bit into a forkful of cheesecake and flicked through the channels on her television for something they could watch. There was Stephanie, watching her with concerned eyes as if sensing her discomfort as easily as her twin could.

"Everything all right, Meera? We're setting up to watch a movie as soon as I get the remote away from Ven," Steph called out.

"Eh? Who is that? You have guests over?" Adriana remarked in surprise, and Meera returned to her phone call, a more genuine smile on her face.

"Oh, I have some friends over," she replied, "We had dinner and we're about to watch a movie. I'll talk to you and Lupe another time, all right?"

"Uh, of course! Have fun!" Adriana told her brightly and Meera put the phone down before hurrying back to collect her serving of cheesecake and join the group for movie night.

Family mattered to her, but to Meera, her friends were family too. Maybe one day, she'd have the courage to share with them the truth of who she was, but for now, this warmth and love chased away the chill of loneliness. For that, she was grateful.

END

[friendshipcampaign]

Session Recap 6/23/18: The Fiends That Plague Thee Thus

As they told their stories to Kriv, Tsova slowly seemed to fade, eventually falling entirely silent. It seemed the god was sleeping once again -- though not, this time, without hope of return. Knowing that it had been a long day and the shadows were still milling around the woods -- on a very dark, nearly moonless evening, no less -- it was discussed and decided that the group should probably take an evening’s rest rest before heading back to Folly’s End. Palava cast a Tiny Hut within the small underground space where the eggs were in order to protect everyone.

Several party members were gathering up some of of the Caftner eggs to put in protective places for the night, causing Voski -- who had also noted Erwyn crying, but avoided stepping in until now -- to wrap one of the eggs in a very fancy embroidered scarf from her bag and place it in his hands. She placed her hands over his momentarily, and told him that the scarf was very nice and expensive and she was going to want it back. Acting a bit dazed, Erwyn nodded.

Curious about whether or not the shadows’ behavior had changed not that Tsova had faded and the portal was closed, Amaranth crept out of the Hut and climbed back up to the forest surface, taking a peek around. She noted that they seemed to be much more aimless. When she went back down to the others to report this, it was discussed that the ones provided by the townsfolk were likely to fade in the next few days, and that the remaining numbers would at least be manageable. This, of course, meant that they would only have those few days to figure out how they intended to deal with Hayel before she knew that her deal was up.

Voski again asked Amaranth what she knew about Hayel, but the tiefling admitted that she’d only ever seen one member of the Devil’s Dirge before recently, and it wasn’t Hayel. All she said she knew about the crew was that they didn’t take kindly to people stealing their cargo -- of souls. (As Voski asked her these questions, Ditto directed Tiktik to wander over and cuddle up with Amaranth, who absentmindedly petted their cat form). While people talked about other possible things Hayel could be after, what it came down to was that, as a devil, she had to be looking to advance herself, and advancing herself would be what he wanted those souls for. It was going to come down to them in the end, which is what was going to make it impossible to bargain with her.

Erwyn’s suggestion was that they needed to get a look at the exact contract she had with the townspeople, since one of the only ways to deal with devils was to beat them at their own game -- looking for loopholes and the like that still followed the exact letter of the law. He admitted to not being amazing at figuring that sort of thing out himself, but that others in the group might be. Nearly everyone in the group turned to look at Voski.

Palava mentioned that, generally, devils were concerned with both the quantity and quality of their souls -- the latter spurring an interest in the souls of people with significant power or influence, or of those who would have kept fighting against them. He thought it seemed odd that in an area without any very notably powerful souls she had agreed to a deal that provided a relatively small amount. Even the town wizard in a place as small as Folly’s End didn’t seem to make much sense. When Ditto mentioned that she’d thought the townspeople would have the chance to choose the souls, the strangeness doubled, but it was agreed that they might not know the proper details and should probably look at the terms of the contract before speculating more.

As everyone settled in to sleep (or trance, in Erwyn and Palava’s case), Ditto started braiding a drowsy Amaranth’s hair. Tiktik was still cuddling up with her, and the she asked the wizard if Tiktik was like a normal cat that might maul her hand if she tried to pet them on the stomach. She was told they would actually like it. Amaranth asked Ditto how long she’d had Tiktik and was a bit taken aback to be reminded just how old some of her traveling companions were when Ditto explained she’d had her familiar for a long time -- probably even longer than Amaranth had been alive. When asked about details, Ditto admitted that Soreth wasn’t the last time she’d stolen something from a library, which piqued Amaranth’s attention more than a little bit -- in the sense that she seemed to be very excited in hearing about crimes. 

Ditto admitted she’d had to flee the library while copying the spell and made a joke about the best thing to steal being friendship -- which Amaranth said was a bit corny, but still seemed to agree. She asked Ditto if it had been just the two of them (her and Tiktik) traveling together for a while and Ditto admitted that she’d on-and-off traveled with others too, though usually only for about as long as she’d been with this group until it fell apart. Amaranth assured Ditto that they were going to do their best to keep that from happening. 

Erwyn didn’t slip into his trance quite as quickly as other members of the party due to glancing nervously at the egg Voski had handed to him, which he’d rested in his lap, occasionally giving it cautious pats. He also saw Palava whisper some sort of spell to Alembic, sitting next to him, before his husband went to sleep and then slipping into his trance himself.

When Erwyn ended his trancing, Palava was already up, sitting down with a small purple light floating in front of him as he wrote. The two elves momentarily discussed their still-resting companions, and the fact that even after being around those with non-elf sleep patterns for a while they still struck them as something that made other races seem strange and vulnerable. Palava, who had been writing in Elvish on the leaves of the Olospië plant, asked Erwyn if he would like any to do the same himself -- noting that he wasn’t certain, but wondered somewhat because of what the younger elf had said earlier.

At first, Erwyn declined, but shortly after that he felt a familiar little tugging at the cloak around his shoulders and seemed to have a moment of realization. He asked Palava if he could have an Olospië leaf to write on, asking if a message on one could be carried to someone who both couldn’t read and wasn’t elvish, due to never having thought to ask those questions about the custom. Palava said he thought it ought to be, and particularly hoped as someone who served the deities he did that the latter was true as he’d hope the messages could make it to someone regardless of whether they were in Arvandor or not.

Taking one of the leaves, Erwyn wrote his own brief message in Elvish, telling the lubberkin that now seemed to be following him around that he was happy to have them along for the ride. Palava waited for him to finish and the two elves headed outside. When they stepped into the moonlight, the cleric hummed a bit to himself before pulling out a candle and lighting it, slowly feeding the leaves he had written on to the candle. Erwyn followed suit, and the two of them sat back against a fallen tree for a moment, watching the smoke rise into the night sky. The pair remained there for a bit, the sweet smell of the leaves hanging in the night air. Eventually, Palava muttered a small prayer over the candle and extinguished it so they could head inside the Hut once more. As Palava let his small purple light fill the space once more, Erwyn felt a small weight settle on one of his legs, sitting with him in the early morning until the others awoke. It was a fairly peaceful time, briefly interrupted only when an interesting bug crawled into the center of the floor and both the elves got excited about it.

One everyone us was up, Palava offered the party members all some weird dried Underdark fruit. Behind his back, Alembic silently discouraged everyone from trying it, but Voski, Ditto, and Kriv all still accepted some. Kriv actually seemed like it liked it. They then made a move to gather all the eggs from underneath the large tree to take back to town. As they headed out, Amaranth referred to the trip back as an egg-scort mission, eliciting glee from some of her companions and groans from others. Animals were starting to appear on the forest path, and when a bold squirrel approached the group, loudly chittering, Erwyn crouched down and gently shushed it. It seemed persuaded to fall silent.

As the party walked along, Ditto kept doubling back near where Alembic and Palava were walking, but after a few unsubtle loops, Alembic just Messaged her to ask what she needed. She mentioned that she’d lived there once, elaborating that she had “heard a story” from some people who’d traveled there from another town that “kind of sounded” like it might have involved portals and catching sight of a creature they couldn’t really describe. Palava and Alembic exchanged a look, clearly not fooled by her brilliant attempt at subterfuge, and told her that they’d been mostly dealing with disturbances in the Underdark around the time the she’d given, but wondered if the town might have been Briardale (she hadn’t given the exact name). It had remained an unexplained mystery, but most people nowadays chalked it up to some people with an overactive imagination seeing an otyugh.

Ditto then heard Alembic’s voice in her head again, saying if she had anything else she wanted to tell them about the incident she didn’t have so speak aloud. She seemed very nervous and hesitant, but she told them that she’d been thinking about it a lot lately because of what the sea hag had told her about events there setting in motion something that would shake the foundations of the world, and it maybe being something they should look into. Alembic asked if she had more information. He said that he wouldn’t be mad at her if she shared it, but that the increase in interplanar activity as of late was getting to be more than their organization could handle, and if Ditto had anything that could help they’d want to know.

After a long silence, she quietly muttered, "it was an accident." She confessed that she’d tried to make an arcane focus out of a crystal she’d come across when she was closer to Kriv’s age than anything, and described that there had been a disastrous aftermath. Alembic told her he couldn’t look into their archives on the road, but would see if they had anything useful when he got the chance. Ditto also mentioned to him that she had been wondering about trying a Sending spell to contact the thing that had appeared there, and he said he would certainly spot for her should she choose to try.

The rest of the walk passed more casually, with Voski playing some traditional music on her lute and Palava singing along when he recognized an elven tune, and Ditto and Amaranth talking more about the story the former had told the previous night.

Back in Folly’s End, the group informed the warren about all the eggs they were bringing back and the kobolds said they would clear out a secondary nesting chamber for them for the time being. Once the eggs were deposited safely, they headed to the larger chamber they’d visited before, where Krys was waiting for them. He was confused about the news they delivered, but got excited when Kriv mentioned he had a lot of stories to recount. 

He also passed out papers with information on the ballads Amaranth had asked him about, related to the Devil’s Dirge -- explaining that he had a couple different ballads she might be interested in. One of them, the most recent, had been collected by a colleague of his trying to pinpoint the origin of a song called Amaia’s Farewell, but others went back about three human generations. As of late, it seemed there had been a resurgence of the tales.

Amaranth asked Palava and Alembic if they’d ever heard of the Devil’s Dirge or what they knew about it, but neither had. They suggested that for it to be appearing on the Material Plane, someone had to be summoned, but Erwyn brought up what he and Amaranth had read in the planar book he’d found about a possible ship that could travel between planes created by the residents of Stygia. When he mentioned that it had probably been created to be a weapon in the Blood War, Alembic and Palava were both very surprised, saying that conflict wasn’t even something that most folks knew was going on, much less that he had very much information on. He and Palava exchanged a meaningful look when he said it was surprising Erwyn had been able to get anything on it at all.

When asked about how the ship had appeared when she’d run into it, Amaranth described it as having come out of the mist, with no indication before that it had been approaching. She said that it seemed to attack sporadically, spreading out its attacks and largely going after people who wouldn’t be missed -- particularly pirates -- to avoid suspicion. Her ship, however, had not been the first attacked in the area. Talk turned to what Hayel would be doing in Folly’s End if she usually crewed the Dirge, but Erwyn pointed out that it was entirely possible she’d been summoned out here through complete coincidence, either by type or by her name making it out here.

Amaranth explained that the devils of the Dirge had tried to get her to sign a contract -- and their was a brief moment of fear from the others before she admitted her crew had stopped her from taking it, as it would have offered up her soul for theirs. The wreck that sank their ship had occurred when they fled out to sea to escape the devils and run into a storm. Erwyn quietly pointed out that her getting away would prove they weren’t infallible, but Amaranth seemed skeptical -- she said that sometimes they left survivors on purpose. He said that either way they were going to make that their mistake. Ditto squeezed her hand and agreed.

Alembic mentioned that if Hayel had gotten sloppy with negotiations due to the Dirge apparently not operating the way devils were really known to, her contract here in Folly’s End might not be airtight. He said there was a court on the first level of the Hells, Avernus, where people could challenge contracts. If she had broken hers in any way or left a loophole big enough that they could exploit, it might be possible for them to appeal. 

It was decided that they should head back into town and get a look at the contract to know if this was an opportunity. As they headed out, Erwyn nervously stopped Voski to hand her back the scarf she’d wrapped the egg in the other night. Palava and Alembic were to stay with the kobolds, so that Hayel didn’t know there were more people who might pose a problem for her in town, but before the party left Alembic Messaged Ditto to tell her to let them know before she tried that Sending spell.

Once they were outside of the warren, Voski stopped the others in order to point out that, technically, they had now accomplished what the Lady had likely wanted. Anything they accomplished now would probably be extraneous. The group argued about whether or not they should continue with any of this. Kriv hated the idea of going to the Hells, if that was where this was going to lead, but said that he wanted to help the people of the town. Amaranth obviously wanted her revenge. Erwyn said he would be in on stopping this regardless, but that even if other people wanted to be more pragmatic, it was entirely possible their own souls might be in danger when the contract ended. Ultimately, Voski said that if the group continued to try to run themselves into the ground like this for every single thing, there would be a last time that they stuck their necks out. The conversation seemed to leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouths and they finished the walk in silence -- though after a bit, Ditto Messaged Amaranth to say “Remember, don’t stab Voski” -- to which the tiefling replied “I may be angry right now, but I’m not going to stab Voski. Even if she does get on my nerves. Every group needs a pragmatic one.”

Eventually, if in silence, the reached the inn. Erwyn stopped Voski before the two of them headed in, nervously sticking out a hand to grab her arm. “I know it may not be your choice,” he said, “and I can respect that, but I want you to perhaps consider that some of us have sacrificed a lot in order to stick our necks out exactly like this.” Both walked inside without further conversation.

The kids rushed out to greet the party once more -- and Kriv in particular, Nika once again running up to and climbing all over him and Karvel asking about Volfred. The paladin joked around with them for a bit while Voski asked Lacha for confirmation on the names and places of business of the other council members. She was informed that the three left (other than Lakaphai) were the storekeeper, a woman whose family historically controlled most of the land around the lake, and the smith. Lacha also mentioned, when asked, that one of the biggest dissenters to the plan to make a contract with the fiends was an older man, Old Ranneck, who had lived in one of the houses near the lake but had died over the winter.

The party all sat down to eat something at the inn before making a decision which council members they intended to speak to. As they did so, Ditto Messaged Voski to say “I know this isn’t really something you want to do, but I appreciate that you’re really being helpful.” She didn’t respond, just sipped her drink.

It wasn’t long before the kids again rushed over and Karvel, getting Erwyn’s attention, asked if they could play with “his friend.” He looked to see if the lubberkin was visible in their occasional glowing form, but they didn’t seem to be at the moment. But the kids persisted, and Nika asked about their name, and he informed her it was Melima (the one he had, despite some cultural reservations about naming someone else, chosen for the lubberkin around the time he’d performed the ritual to calm them) and the choice would be up to them. A tiny light appeared as Lacha’s kids waved at it, and they all ended up engaged in a game of hide-and-seek. The others asked, seeming a little surprised, if the lubberkin had actually been hanging around, and he confirmed he’d continued to feel their presence.

When the party began to talk about options for getting a look at the contract, Erwyn suggested something that he prefaced by saying was a very very very very very bad idea. He did want them all to recall, however, the Philter they’d picked up in the demiplane that could be used to sway someone’s feelings about an individual to the positive side, and if the only way to get the contract was from Hayel directly, they might have to consider it. Even as he said it his eyes were screwed shut and his ears twitched wildly. He seemed pained entertaining the idea, which Voski immediately said he needed to add about six more “very”s to, but the party did seem to put a pin in it instead of dismissing the idea entirely.

Voski asked Lacha if Hayel was still stopping by in the evenings, thinking they could at least fake interest in something like a contract of their own (or even just discussing things on more civil terms again) if they needed to have that sort of interaction with her. When it was confirmed she was, they decided that Voski and Erwyn would stay behind at the inn to possibly catch her while Ditto, Amaranth, and Kriv (the three who would struggle most to have that kind of conversation with Hayel) talked to some of the council members. 

The latter trio headed to try to talk to the smith, a man named Alberth, and see if he could tell them more about the contract, but when they entered his place, given the small size of Folly’s End and the fact that the group stood out more than a bit, he instantly recognized them as being from out of town and didn’t take kindly to their questions. Instead, he was defensing about the contract even getting mentioned, denying that it existed at all and saying that he didn’t know what they were talking about. Ultimately, they left without any new information.

As the other two sat waiting, both nursing cups of tea, Voski spoke, not making eye contact with Erwyn as she did so. She said that if he wanted to talk about sacrifice, as she had mentioned earlier, he ought to also consider that should these townsfolk decide to try to offer up the party’s souls instead of their own, she wouldn’t be going quietly, which would make her a greater danger to them here than anywhere else. She said she wasn’t negative about the situation doing to expecting the worst of people, but because of trying to imagine the best for them. And that he could believe whatever he wanted. Quietly, Erwyn told her that he hadn’t been passing any judgement on her -- he had just wanted her to know that he had reasons for what he was doing, because he’d sacrificed quite a lot to try to help people in the manner that he was now trying to, and he didn’t want another person thinking he was stupid for that. A lot of people already had, and he said it would have hurt far too much to add Voski to that list due to the respect he held for her.

When the other party members returned, deciding they were unlikely to get any more from the other council members, Voski seemed less than impressed with their methods -- but admitted that if they really were that defensive it would be hard to learn anything, especially without arousing some suspicion. Deciding all they would attempt that even was the conversation with Hayel (who had not stopped by yet), everyone but Erwyn and Voski headed upstairs to retreat to their rooms for the evening and not get involved.

Upstairs, Kriv asked Amaranth if she knew about blood being important to devils, since Hayel had marked the place on the map with her own. When she and Ditto both admitted to not really knowing, and asked why he wondered, he ushered them into a room and pulled out an old book from his bag, slit his hand, and let the blood drip onto the page. Before the two women could express alarm, they all saw strange writing appearing on the surface of the book. No one present, however, recognized it -- marking Infernal off the list of languages it could be, as Amaranth would have been able to read it. Kriv told them that he’d found it in some old ruins while he was traveling on his own and still didn’t know what it represented, only that he hadn’t been able to write in it himself and had, recently, figured out that it responded to blood.

The conversation turned to the more pressing matter of dealing with Hayel and their concerns about the conversation that was going to occur downstairs. Kriv again expressed how much he hated the idea of going to the Hells, and Amaranth reassured him that he didn’t have to come. He replied that at this point he would literally go to hell and back to make sure that no member of  “this family” got taken by Hayel, or even touched by her. Ditto in particular got immensely emotional about his statement and all three of them ended up hugging each other tightly.

Downstairs, Lacha gathered up her children and sent them back to the family’s living area. The little light they’d been playing with wandered back over to Erwyn and faded after tugging on his shoulder. He was nervously fiddling with his cup as Voski plucked idly at her lute. Not long after this, Hayel stepped inside, noted the pair, and smiled, saying “Oh, hello! You’re back. How wonderful to see you.”

[wordsturnintostories]

After-Credits/ Remnants of Time

Chapter 12 | Epilogue | ... | After-Credits 2 |

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,020 Song Choice: See What I’ve Become by Zack Hemsey Special a/n: SURPRISE! AN AFTER CREDIT SCENE. Hope you stayed, you loyal Marvel fans. I thought to myself, if you write Marvel, you gotta do it right. :D have fun, guys. Hope you like it.

Being honest, Sam hadn’t expected any results to turn up, especially not so soon after leaving Munich and that pile of rubble that had been a modern hospital back in the 50s. The team had rushed into the Quinjet and taken care of Scott, who had nearly bled out. Thanks to Natasha, a doctor had awaited them on board, ready to save their friend. The secret base was a blessing. Finally, they could all tend to their wounds and get some rest. Bucky had recovered, after hiding himself away in his room for weeks, after nights of screaming and mornings with a metal hand around Steve’s neck.  Being even more honest, Sam hadn’t expected Natasha to pull him out of bed in the middle of the night to get him aboard a plane to … Bulgaria? Or something in that direction. He wiped his eyes, still tired, pulling his Exosuit on before realizing he didn’t even wear a shirt yet. At least his wounds had healed, especially that nasty bullet wound in his shoulder. This base was equipped with perfect medical supplies. Sam was very grateful for his healing process.  Not being able to fly around anymore would’ve taken a big toll on him. It was the last thing he and Riley had done together.

Sam admired the Russian’s determination to find someone who had caused her so much pain and put her into a position where living turned into running, just because the girl meant so much to Barnes. Of course, also because it was Hydra. No one should endure what cruelty Hydra managed to apply. And he totally understood Natasha had been more than disappointed their time in Munich had not resulted in Zola’s death. But Sam still had his money on these two, Barnes and Romanoff. Steve had lost his ten bucks the moment the bet was settled. That day felt like ages ago now. Back then, they’d still sat around in Wakanda, trying to kill time. Multiple sources had confirmed Hydra activity in the destination region and Natasha wasn’t taking any chances. “Finding Barnes took us years because we were too cautious. Not this time”, she’d proclaimed in the mission briefing on the jet. So, they all went to Europe again. Sam really didn’t want to know how much Nat owed all her spy friends by now or how that favor thing worked, he was just gonna be glad when everything was over. Of course, however, he knew this mission was something special for Natasha in another sense. It was her shot at redemption, even if she didn’t call it that. She had messed up when she tricked Steve and even though he treated her with kindness, she, as well as everyone else, was aware of the fact that she needed to make up for holding a knife to James Buchanan Barnes’ throat. The earlier the better.

Steve already analyzed a blueprint of what looked like a warehouse. It didn’t give the impression of a fortress, but with Hydra in there, it probably was the same level of dangerous. Next to him sat Bucky, silently scribbling into his worn-out, yellow-edged journal, not looking up once. He’s been doing that a lot since he and Wanda started their sessions, Sam thought, good for him. The dim light above the seats created a gloomy atmosphere and proved how tired Sam really was. Since no one sought conversation, the former pararescue decided to rest some more. They landed and parked the jet outside the city, off-road and off-sight. Despite the thunderstorm roaring and lashing against the windows, everyone ignored the dark warnings the sky sent and jumped out of the vehicle. Just in time to see the first red of the morning peek through from behind the mountaintops on the horizon. Finding the warehouse was no problem in this city that couldn’t stand a comparison to the size of New York or even Berlin. Luckily, there was no traffic at this time either. That exact warehouse didn’t really distinguish itself from its neighborhood - shattered windows, sooty walls and loosened, but thick chains hanging from the ceilings. The mechanic cranes, now without use, were characteristic for this former heavy industry region.

When the three of them - Sam had already left to fly control rounds - stepped onto the muddy ground, nothing moved, everything was quiet except for the crackling of the rain. It was a little too quiet for Natasha’s taste, who had expected much more activity. Steve couldn’t make out any signs that screamed ambush, so he contacted Sam. “Any signs of enemy units?” “My heat camera doesn’t give me anything. Building’s unarmed. There is one signature, but it’s far from usual.” “What do you mean?” “Body temperature very low, subject not on the move.” “Alright, we’re going in.”

The inside of the building looked as abandoned as the outside. No one had stepped into this building in a long time, at least not through the front door considering the thick layer of dust on the floor here. Now, water dropped softly from the three intruders, whose clothes were drenched. When Bucky turned on the flashlight, signs of past fights appeared. Bullets stuck in stone pillars, the indentations visible from a distance, implying guns heavier than simple handguns. Bucky even spotted indentations on the floor, edges smeared with brown tones that probably had been red once. A side entrance to the main hall captured the intruders’ attention. The door leaf was completely crooked, but still hanging on the hinges. Who- or whatever had unloaded its rage here, it was a force to be reckoned with. Steve wondered what they were really dealing with. He didn’t know it, but Natasha was thinking the same thing. Had the Rem- Rebecca really done all of this? In Steve’s memories, she’d always been a sweet girl with the gentlest fingers of all. She’d cleaned his bruises after his fight with Tom Honeycutt from across the street and all the others too, every time he came home with Bucky after school. There was no version of this universe that he could imagine Rebecca as an assassin like her brother. She hadn’t even been in the war. The facts just didn’t line up. Was this a trap? Leading away from that side door they found drag marks, guiding them deeper into the massive hall that was probably impossible to fill with warmth. No wonder Sam’s heat signature showed a cold body. Everyone would hibernate in here.

As soon as Steve’s eyes made out the lonely figure in the dark, he began running. Sam would’ve warned them of Hydra mercenaries by now, right? The way was clear and the others followed more or less hesitantly. When Steve came to a halt and stood in front of the Remnant, however, he wished he’d never seen this - image. He knew this could never be unseen by anyone. Tears welled in his eyes, silent tears he wanted no one to witness. Hydra had, once again, outdone themselves, but not Steve’s mind. Because in there, he’d seen something similar before. The worst possible outcome, just with a different body hanging in chains, one with a metal arm. A hundred nightmares. This one, this woman, had her head hanging so low that one could almost think she was dead. This place smelled bitter, of blood and urine and burnt flesh, but every time a cool breeze crept through the slits in the walls, a little more of the nauseating aroma got carried away.

A firm hand rested on Steve’s shoulder. Bucky appeared by his side, offering silent comfort although he should’ve been the one haunted by the sight. But he showed no signs of emotional distress. Before Hydra, he’d been good at shoving the outward manifestations of his feelings away. The sight - Hydra’s lethal asset and master thief chained up by both her wrists, with arms stretched out to the sides. Her only clothes were her combat pants and a shirt that had undoubtedly seen better days. The combat mask was missing; they’ve stripped her to the essence, Steve thought bitterly. She resembled a dead person, but he’d never seen a corpse in a position like that. Not with the whole front unprotected, not with tight chains clawing into her flesh and her arms keeping the torso up to prevent a collapse. All the blood reminded the super soldier of his time at the army, when he’d rescued the 105th in Azzano and when they’d lost part of their division just behind Chambéry in Southern France. But her legs stood, stiff like pillars, just not as straight, holding her body up. The floor underneath her boots was damaged, showing cracks and more blood, dry like the blood covering her hands.

Bucky cautiously stepped around her. He examined her back. Natasha had already rushed by to see if their surroundings offered any intel or belongings left behind by Hydra. She returned with a harness of chains that was obviously meant for the woman and, judging by the multitude of red-brown stains, had been in use before. It made Bucky speak up. “It’s her.” Everyone turned to him. “She’s not my sister, but I know her.” Not Rebecca, it echoed within Steve’s mind. Not his sister. How? He’d seen her face. Steve’s mind hadn’t been scrambled, instead his memories haunted him at night because they were so vivid he couldn’t tell them apart from reality. He saw Brooklyn in those nights, his Ma, their tiny apartment, the places he discovered with a 9-year old Bucky, spending time with his family, everything. In contrast to Bucky, he could trust his memories. Right? If this woman wasn’t Rebecca, who was she? “She looks the same”, Steve mumbled. “See her neck? Remember when I took a shot at our kitchen window and one of the shards hit her neck?” “With that old tin? I remember your Dad polished your ass for it. Twice.” “Yeah”, Bucky grinned sheepishly, “me too. But look, her scar’s missing. Also, our twin mole behind her ear isn’t there. Not her.” Natasha piped up, whispering like the others. A little necklace with an arrow hung from her hand. She must’ve found it somewhere. “And who is she instead?” “I don’t know her name. But this harness was hers. No one else needed it. They created her in Siberia, like us, must’ve been in the 60s. Back then, Belyakov called her хищник. Predator.” His blue eyes wandered over her body, calling memories to resurface. There was an expression on his face Steve couldn’t describe. His friend raised his eyebrows. “She shouldn’t be this still. She should’ve heard us from outside. Must be her second week.” “Second week?” “Hydra doesn’t abandon their soldiers. They bring them back to order. This”, he gestured around, “is standard procedure. Probably preparation for a wipe.” “Are you telling us she’s been hanging here for two damned weeks!?” Steve’s heart cramped. “At least two. She’s strong, makes it hard to break her. You smell the urine though, right?” "Man, I’m starting to feel sick and I can’t even smell it”, Sam mumbled through the comms.

It was probably Natasha’s fault that the dormant girl roared back to life. When hanging the harness back, she missed the hook and the chains clattered against the concrete floor. In an instant, the Remnant stirred. Steve’s skin prickled in response. Suddenly, he noticed the trail of dried up blood leading away from her. Behind a little flock of dust, his eyes spotted a tooth, half brown, half white. The trail led away from her. Steve swallowed hard. If they hadn’t taken her off her chains, it must’ve been someone else’s blood. A low, vibrating growl came from the woman’s chest and rumbled back from the walls, echoing tenfold. When her head lifted, Steve heard Bucky take in a sharp breath. Hydra had taken her mask, but left her with a dog’s muzzle. The muzzle didn’t cover the fleshy scars running over her cheek and onto her neck. It didn’t hide the dried blood plastered onto her skin, under the nose and her head wound. There was more on her chin and throat. Even her short brown hair had blood sticking to it. She did look like the Winter Soldier now, thanks to the trim by Steve’s hand. It left a downright frightening resemblance. Actually, appearance, Steve thought with a grim face. Like a monster left to devour the next idiots brave -dumb?- enough to enter this godforsaken place. Her muzzle also didn’t hide the bruises on her skin, matching the blue of her eyes. For a moment, Steve was alarmed. One of her eyes gleamed in a way it shouldn’t have, it even looked like it glowed, but he blamed it on the rays of sun suddenly peeking through the cracked windows. It looked blue, bluer than he’d ever seen in eye colors, before returning to a very normal shade much like Bucky’s. The other eye, however, seemed dull, too gray in its entirety before returning to a normal blue. No matter the eye color, both eyes looked hostile. They shot more than just daggers at the people around the woman. Natasha stepped back a few steps, never letting her eyes stray from the woman in chains. The latter’s head turned towards Steve, who’d wanted to soothe her by explaining their actions. But she rushed at him, like a sharp dog, hissing like a feral cat. The chains rattled and Bucky pulled the blond out of her reach. There was something inhuman about the woman, besides the low growl. She’s ready to kill, Steve thought. Either he was going completely illusional by the tiredness lining his own body or he actually saw sharp teeth behind the muzzle, he couldn’t tell. Her nostrils flared and if the chains hadn’t been, he imagined hell would’ve already broken loose in here, like in Bucharest, with the special task force coming after Bucky.

Barnes started mumbling something in Russian, soft and slow, like a quiet melody, a song meant to say more than a lifetime of words. She quieted down, her bloody wrists still twisting in the handcuffs, but her face was focused on his and her whole body language pointed at him. He stood before her now, still out of reach, because her muscles were taut. She couldn’t be trusted when standing tense like the pulled string of a bow. Steve could’ve sworn he sweated underneath his uniform. How would they get her back to their base? Natasha solved that question with an elbow to the Remnant’s neck which sent her back into unconsciousness. On the one hand, Steve was relieved, on the other, he doubted this was the solution. “Nat. There was no need-” “Oh yeah? What were you gonna do? Sing lullabies all the way back? We know she’s alive and dangerous. Enough so to keep her locked up until we can fix - this.” The redhead shot a look to Bucky, who still stared at the young woman. “Tell Rogers I’m right.” “I guess”, he shrugged. “At least it’s less of a struggle this way.”

Bucky carried her onto the jet. Before, they’d put on the harness, after yet another discussion. She was heavier than he expected, even without any metal appendages and after two weeks of hunger. Bucky didn’t say anything when her shirt slipped upwards, revealing a pattern of bruises on her pale skin. His eyes fell on the muzzle and it pained him to see this device on her face, especially when he still felt what it meant to wear one of them. It screamed animal and it cost him one hell of an effort to not take it off. But he had noticed the sharpness of her teeth as well and definitely wasn’t keen on them sinking into his skin. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, during his time with Hydra. When the chains rattled again, he swore to himself that he’d destroy them as soon as he could. They wound around her neck, pulled her upper arms and her wrists behind her back, connecting there, restricting all her movements, but apparently didn’t keep her from curling up against the wall of the jet. The Soviet assassin swallowed hard when Steve sat down next to him. “I have a theory”, the super soldier started. “She’s not Becca. I’m sure, Steve.” “I believe you, Buck. Is there anything else you remember about her though? About her past, how Hydra found her?” Long pause.

Bucky didn’t need to think about that for long, he’d rather avoid that topic entirely. It was just another point on his “everything I regret about the last 70 years“ -list. He sensed that Steve already assumed things, but he also knew his friend gave him the freedom to decide against saying them. But things usually get worse when you keep them inside. Speaking them out loud can prevent horrible stuff sometimes. He swallowed hard, words beginning to echo in his mind again, he’d heard them when everything was a blur, but he’d heard them, so they felt it was their duty to torment him in every possible way.  “I did. Chased her and her siblings down in New York after killing her father.  Took me three weeks, they were sneaky children and good at hiding. Couldn’t kill her, got a wiping and turned her into a monster like me. 1964.” He raised his eyes to meet Steve. There was some much insecurity in them, Steve almost cried out. “I don’t blame you, Buck, you know that.” “What do you believe in that you can look past all that? There is so much I did and”, Bucky sighed, “… so much, Steve. It’s just so much. So much blood. So much death.” “I know you’d fix it if you had the chance. But maybe this is it. Turn her into your new hope. You have my forgiveness, what else do you need?” Bucky sat quietly after these words, but he sent a kind smile towards Steve. My own forgiveness. But you can’t give me that. “So, what is your theory?” “She’s Becca’s daughter.” Of course. It made sense. Complete sense. The resemblance. The age. She was born in the 40s, just after the war. The mark on her arm, displaying the old SSR emblem with Peggy’s signature (this one still didn’t make that much sense to him). The mole on her finger, a Barnes’ family trait. The sun gleamed through the windows, lighting up the jet’s inside. “It’s a possibility”, Bucky agreed. “That would make her… my niece.” “It would make her family.”

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[elsewhereuniversity]

in. out. in. out.

She repeated the mantra over and over in an attempt to slow her labored breathing. Her face flushed, her knees skinned, her shirt sweaty, she lay flat on the concrete pathway in between the forest and the Elsewhere cafeteria. She wondered briefly where her heels had gone, but dismissed the thought.

“I made it. I actually made it. I outran them,” she muttered to herself in between gasps, “I’m safe now” She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the steadiness of the stone beneath her spine and the refreshingly still night air. Her feet ached, god how they ached, and between her ribs there was a sharp pain, but despite all odds she had made it. Faintly, she heard the thrum of drums and the ancient call of the hunting horn, and the steady beat of something not-quite-horse-hooves. She was dizzy, giddy with her victory. “I made it”

she was struck with a white-hot fear as she heard the call, she ran, she ran so fast, she ran like she never had before

Not-Ellie, her current roommate, had warned her about the Hunt tonight. They were on well enough terms that Blossom considered herself vaguely Favored- not that Not-Ellie was a particularly powerful Fae, but she knew when the Hunts came to Elsewhere, and she knew when it was best for mortals to find shelter.

she could hear the slow peaceful breath of the not-horses, she felt sharp teeth around her ankles, and she kept running

Despite her words of warning, however, Blossom had found herself caught between a late-night writing class and the relative safety of her dorm. Stupidly, she figured she had enough time to make it back, but her shoes (comfortable as they are) were not made for sprinting, and before she reached the halfway mark she could hear the baying of the hounds. stupid stupid stupid. Laying there on the concrete, she hardly remembered how she got there. “Running, for sure,” she relayed to herself, “lots of running. Jumped over a river, maybe.”

she tripped over a gnarled root when the loop of it hooked the edge of her heel, she fell face-first into the freezing stream. the wind around her howled mournfully, as if it knew what fate was to befall her. her hands scrabbled for purchase on the riverbanks, but the tide was too swift and the current tore her away. a moment of blackness overtook her when the jagged rocks struck her forehead, and she came back to consciousness seconds later choking on the moldy water.

“Jeez, maybe I should try out for track or some shit. Never knew I could run like that before.” Her hand flopped up to her forehead of its own accord- she felt as if there should be something there, but nothing was felt except a thin sheen of sweat. She was still a bit dizzy, though, so she made no movement to get up.

her palms stung, her fingernails were in shards, but she found the strength to push herself out of the murky water. the stream widened here, and the current slowed, and she gave herself a moment to rest. perhaps, she thought, the flowing water was enough to stop them. her eyes drifted shut-so tired, so incredibly tired, she hardly noticed the not-hooves slowing as they approached.

Blossom coughed. She slowly sat up, noting the soreness of her feet. “I really got lucky. I didn’t think they’d ever let up.” She thought about Not-Ellie and her words of warning: 

“Once they get your scent, they never let go. It’s part of the thrill of the hunt, you see,” Not-Ellie’s eyes had flashed a dangerous violet for a moment, and her teeth looked too white. “What fun would it be if they just gave up!” Blossom had laughed nervously, while Not-Ellie threw her head back and let loose raucous peals of laughter. Blossom eyed the door, wondering if the other students were listening in. “No, Flower-girl, you don’t want to be out there on the night of the Hunt. Though it would be amusing to me!” 

“Pretty damn lucky, that’s for sure,“ Blossom said. 

she was barely awake. her lungs burned, her ribs were white-hot with pain, her feet were white and cold, she couldn’t move, her words stuttered in her mouth, she was being dragged (no, not dragged, she wasn’t touching the ground) the leaves shifted in the breeze beside her

Blossom coughed again, harder. There was something caught in her throat- it didn’t hurt, but it was a bit irritating. The spinning world slowed for a minute or so, and she took advantage of this fact to rise to her feet and survey her surroundings. The cafeteria was further than she had thought at first, the dim streetlights somehow distant (as if there was fog wrapped around the fluorescent bulbs) (or her)

she was delirious. she heard voices, or just one, or thousands of overlapping tones of the wind, and they were all calling her nickname.

“what would you give? what would you give?”

her lips were too cold and numb to move, she couldn’t form the words so she just thought.

“I would give anything, I would give anything to live”

the vines twisted lovingly around her wrist, a flower bloomed above her left ear.

“would you become one of us? would you join the forest? would you give your skin and your speech?”

her mind was fuzzy, the riverwater dripped from the tip of her nose, moss began to travel up the trees where she hovered.

“I would give anything” she repeated in her mind. “my skin, my life, my name, my speech”

“you will be safe,” the forest sang. “you will be loved.”

she felt safe. she felt loved.

the vines gently set her down on the moss. dazed, she stumbled barefoot onto the concrete path between the woods and the elsewhere cafeteria.

Blossom’s throat itched, it burned like hell. She doubled over, coughing, hacking, and it felt as though something was making its way out. With dawning alarm, she scratched her arm furiously, something itched, something burned, all over her body.

She coughed, she coughed again, harder, and a leaf drifted down from her mouth. Again and again, and more and more leaves cascaded down. She watched in horror as her nails strained against the swelling of her fingers, as they popped off one by one (it didn’t hurt, why didn’t it hurt), as her hands twisted and gnarled. Her hair was wet with riverwater, and then with sap, and then it fell down her shoulders and she looked and every strand was a string of willow leaves. She reached upwards to her cheek and felt the soft pillowy texture of moss, her lips grew hard and crackly like lichen, her breath caught in her chest and she tried to gasp but she couldn’t anymore.

The baying of the hounds grew closer again, it had never left completely. She tried to call out but her vocal chords had stretched into petals.

The baying of the hounds grew ever closer.

She felt the moss spread down, down, over her neck and her collarbone, down, down to her hips, down her legs.

 She felt the roughness travel up, up from her bare feet, up her legs, her hips, her ribs, her collarbone. Her facial muscles stiffened, the bark dug underneath her skin until it replaced it entirely.

 The baying of the hounds was loud in what used to be her ear. The Hunt had arrived for its quarry, but all that remained was a tall tree (some horrific combination of flowers and bark, with long willow-leaves oak-leaves and gnarled branches and bright red berries) blocking the concrete pathway between the woods and the Elsewhere Student Dining Hall. If what used to be Blossom still had ears, it would have heard the irritated snort of the horses, or the long, mournful howl that followed. But it didn’t have ears, and so it heard nothing.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Not-Ellie grinned as she watched from the nearby shadows. She had told Blossom not to go outside during the Hunt, but she wouldn’t be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the show. Stupid mortals, she giggled to herself, one way or another, the Hunt will always get you. She waved jovially at the train of dogs and not-horses as they melted away, then peeled herself out of the darkness and leaned up against what used to be Blossom. 

"And to think, you really believed we were friends. It’s okay, I won’t blame you for not getting it." 

The tree leaves rustled, as if curious.

Not-Ellie shed her glamour like a snake sheds its skin, and rose a vine-arm to caress Blossom’s used-to-be-cheek. A flower bloomed in the center of the fae’s chest cavity. 

"Once we get your scent, we never let go. I won my quarry in tonight’s Hunt. And now, you belong to me.”

Used-To-Be-Blossom screamed inside its timber “You said i’d be safe, you said I’d be loved!" 

"Really, dear,” Not-Ellie responded, “of course you’ll be loved. Much like a hunter swells with pride at the sight of his first kill, so too do I love you, Emily. Now calm yourself, before the stress affects your branches.”

The tree, bound by the True Name it gave up so freely, shuddered once, then fell silent. 

It was calm now. It was loved. And it would never be Blossom again.

Another pseudo-horror Elsewhere drabble, I guess! This one is quite a bit longer, and probably doesn’t make much sense, but it’s 3:00 in the morning and I haven’t slept in 48 hours so I might as well submit it!

x

[hyliotasong]

ovw: the beach episode {2.2k}

this was a commissioned work! if you want to see more like this, drop me a line!

why is it that 95% of pieces of media have a beach episode? this work does absolutely nothing to find out.

When Doctor O’Deorain told them that Widowmaker was highly encouraged (read as: was going to be forced) to go on vacation, Widowmaker had some protests. If she was supposed to be the perfect killing machine, why would she need a vacation? Her time could be better used actually doing her job, or at least cleaning up around the base. The doctor insisted that a vacatiofn would be a good way of ensuring that her body was at peak performance. A resort was less intensive than the Talon labs, and it would ultimately do less damage.

Personally, Claw wondered when Talon got so worried about how intensive Widowmaker’s training was, but he didn’t actually mind. After what happened with Pharah at the research facility, he was sure that he and Widowmaker both could use a vacation. She didn’t have a choice, so why not enjoy it?

When they arrived at the resort, Widowmaker was given a swimsuit to change into. Apparently, going around in armor would scare relaxing businessmen. As she changed in a room near the front desk, Claw perched on a plant and looked around the place. The map posted nearby was large, and Claw got dizzy just looking at it. Instead, he turned to the walls, eyeing the intricate patterns and the familiar logo. It was subtle, but he swore that he saw the Talon symbol worked into the elegant flourishes.

That would explain why they were alone here, and why Widowmaker didn’t have an escort.

...Unless, he was the escort? He would know if he was supposed to be the escort, wouldn’t he? Doctor O’Deorain would have tracked him down and given him responsibilities or threatened him or something! He easily reasoned it to himself. He wasn’t her escort, so he could just relax.

Relaxing was easier said than done.

The heat was oppressive, making Claw’s perch on the leaf heavy. He tried to back into the shade, but since the heat wasn’t caused by light, all he did was scoot. Internally, he groaned. He was sure that humans enjoyed the heat, especially if they could take a dip in the pool after to cool off. They were all lucky, knowing how to swim from a young age. They didn’t make floaties spider sized, and he never learned how to swim. The pool was out of the question.

Though, he did begin to wonder if Widowmaker could teach him how to swim. She was human, so she probably knew how, and she was smart, so she could figure out a way to get it to work with eight legs. He contemplated it for a moment, but realized that he didn’t want to bother her. It was their vacation! After everything they’d been through together, she deserved a chance to relax. Claw groaned again and melted onto the leaf, only perking up when Widowmaker came back for him.

Her hair was loose, pulled out of her face in a messy bun at the back of her head. The swimsuit fit her nicely, and she had a wrap on to resemble a cardigan and a skirt. She was dressed for the heat, and Claw couldn’t help but be jealous. He crawled up to the edge of the leaf to catch her attention as she walked past. Her gaze softened slightly when she saw him, and she held a hand out for him to crawl up onto.

“You waited for me,” she said as he crawled up onto her shoulder. She turned to look at him as he began to melt onto her. “You didn’t need to. Are you feeling hot?” Claw only responded by rolling onto his back and splaying his legs out. Widowmaker nodded in understanding, anyway. “It will get better. You’re a smart spider, you can find a way to cool off.”

With the reassurance, she started off farther into the resort. It was no cooler as they went deeper inside. Claw wasn’t certain how the humans managed to work without rolling over and dying every time it got too hot.

He sulked in his own misery for a moment before he was set down in a blast of mercifully cool air. When he looked up, he saw himself perched in an ice machine, the sort that’s in every hotel. Widowmaker stood before him, tilting her head slightly.

“The doctors would like me to visit the massage parlor,” she said. “To increase blood flow. You may wander as you wish. I set you here so that you could cool off for a moment. Meet me here soon, yes?”

She didn’t wait for his response before she stood and walked down another hallway.

Claw took a breather in the merciful cool as he surveyed his surroundings. This part of the resort had a handful of smaller stores, almost like gift shops. The store directly across from him seemed to have beachware for the outdoors- umbrellas, coolers, and towels. The beach didn’t seem to be Widowmaker’s style, but she was trying new things on this trip. Maybe he should prepare, too? He looked both ways down the hallway and hurried across, braving the heat for another few moments as he tried to avoid any oncoming foot traffic.

It would have been a lot more dramatic if there was any foot traffic to speak of, but it looked like an action movie in his head, which was the most important part.

When he got into the store, he was blessed with sweet, sweet air conditioning. He basked in the cool for a moment before climbing the displays before him. Once he was on the table, he marveled at what he saw.

Talon employed a variety of agents in a variety of sizes. Claw figured that he shouldn’t be surprised that there were items small enough for him to use hidden behind the human equipment. He combed over the products and settled on a tiny ice cooler. He wasn’t able to tuck himself into it, but he could find ice for when the heat got to overbearing. As he picked up a radio and a little tote bag to keep everything in, Claw came to a very important realization.

Spiders don’t have money.

He didn’t want to try and survive without the bag and its accessories, but he didn’t have the money to pay for it. He didn’t even know how much it cost! He held it close to himself and looked over at the teenager behind the counter. He looked bored. Claw was certain that he wasn’t actually paying attention. But, even if he wasn’t paying attention, would there be alarms? Even if there were alarms…

Well, he was small enough. He should be able to avoid most of the guards that would come after him.

But what would this make him? If he stole this bag of treats, he would be some common criminal! He would go to jail- And then he would never see his Widowmaker again! …Wait a minute.

Talon was a terrorist organization.

They were all criminals. It would probably be fine.

Claw climbed off of the counter with his boon and hurried back to the ice machine. There weren’t any alarms, but he still felt a thrill at genuine criminal activity. The hallway was still overbearingly hot, but he could take shelter under the cool air of the machine until Widowmaker returned.

When she returned, her shoulders looked much less tense than usual. She almost seemed relaxed. She looked for Claw right where she left him, offering her hand for him to climb on. There was a bag over her shoulder now, and Claw wondered if she, too, had stolen from a small store when she was getting her massage.

“I’ve finished,” she said. She didn’t bring up anything about shoplifting, so it probably wasn’t important. He didn’t have to worry about it. It was fine. “They said we should go to the beach now. Will you accompany me?”

Who did she think he was? Some kind of coward that didn’t follow his friends to the end of the Earth? Claw wiggled his tote bag, climbed his way onto Widowmaker’s shoulder, and tried to hide in the shade of her hair. It still got warmer as she walked, but he tried his best not to melt and become a puddle of spider soup.

The beach was quiet. There wasn’t anyone around to stare at the blue girl and her spider. Widowmaker stopped a fair bit away from the ocean, underneath an umbrella near a long beach chair. She sat down, taking special care not to crush Claw under her. “You can feel free to do as you’d like,” she said, taking a book out from her bag. “I hear that children at beaches enjoy making castles.”

Widowmaker turned a page in her book and quickly got absorbed in it, leaving Claw to his own devices. She didn’t pay him any mind after that. At a loss for anything else to do, Claw crawled off of her shoulder and down to the ground.

The sand was baking hot. Claw bounced back and forth on it to try and keep from burning his feet. Eventually, he got used to it, and he settled down to dig up a pile of sand. He didn’t have the proper tools to shape it into a castle, but it was pretty amusing to move sand from one place to another. And, sure, it was fun and all, but he wanted to relax. The heat made everything drag down. It was too hot to function like a child having a beach day!

Widowmaker would have an idea about what to do. At least, she would be able to get more ice or something. Frustrated, Claw began to climb back up the chair. In his adventure to find sand and pile it on top of itself, he ended up somewhere near the opposite end of the chair. He would have to make the trek all across her body in order to reach her face. He paused when he reached her ankle, catching the red glint of her nail polish out of the corner of his sixth eye. Widowmaker didn’t normally wear nail polish. Claw admired himself for a moment, despite the warmth. Sure, he looked a little flat and sad (like a spider pancake), but he still was handsome looking!

He only rested for a moment or two. Eventually, he had to get moving! So, he sucked it up and turned to start the journey down her leg. Once he made his way up to the top of her knee, he couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms up and slid down her thigh, like he was on a roller coaster. The ride ended safely at the bottom, and Claw bravely started on the smooth expanse of her stomach.

Despite how lean Widowmaker was, there was some give on her stomach, and Claw bounced on it as he moved like it was a big mattress. It was a small amusement, though it stopped when his foot fell into a hole. He stopped around her belly button, having almost fallen in.

It looked deeper than most other belly buttons. Claw stared at it for a moment as the cogs began to turn in his head. On a whim, he stepped into the hole, pushing himself inside with a small bit of effort. It was a bit of a squeeze, but when he got inside, he was pleasantly surprised by what he found.

The space, albeit a little tight, was surprisingly cool. It made sense- Widowmaker got her color from a very low body temperature. She was cool in general, and the walls of her navel were soft enough to lay on. He could stay for hours, if he wanted to. Nobody would stop him, either- Widowmaker was on vacation.

Claw hefted himself up and out of her navel, intent on setting up camp. It wasn’t like she would mind if he took refuge for a moment, right? He started off on a mission to find his bag.

-

The Widowmaker made a surprised noise in the back of her throat as she felt someone walking over her stomach. Having people tread on her was only somewhat unusual: Those that tried generally got a bullet in their neck before they could get too far. She glanced up from a story of a dissatisfied wife and her husband to watch her spider and the sole exception to her no-touch rule crawl about on her stomach.

Claw had been feeling the heat. He was far from his normal, joyous self, and he hadn’t been since the moment that they landed. The Widowmaker watched him lug that small tote bag he found from around from over her book and noticed a definitive pep in his step that he didn’t have earlier. She wondered if he had finally found some way to cool off. He must have, judging by his path on her body.

He set the bag into her belly button, then crawled inside after it. The Widowmaker gave a quiet hum as she looked back at her book and turned the page. It was good that he had finally made himself comfortable- it would be a shame if Claw ran off because he was having an awful time in the heat. He was making himself quite useful to Talon, and she would have to admit that she would miss his presence if he was gone for too long.

Not that she would tell him that, of course. Claw knew how much he meant to her. That was enough.

[unwiltingblossom]

A Dance of Flame and Shadow (1/?)

Summary: There are times when one does not so much meddle with time, as time meddles with them. They were never meant to meet. They always would. Cause and effect can be difficult to determine, but the shadow has always been moved by the light, not the other way around. Time travel, a stable time loop or two, and many casualties lie ahead. DanzoSaku. You read that right, you’re not on crack. (Probably?) This isn’t a new story, I just noticed it slipped through the cracks ages ago and it seems weird not to have it here since it’s based off of this Sakura’s RP. ‘Based off’ is the key word, because it’s ‘adapted’ from it like a ‘true story’ is adapted from true events. Not that it matters cuz lul who is even around to remember this or care if they don’t remember.

Prologue

'Ghost-Girl!'

She was weak. She was a weak, cowardly girl, so she ran away.

The laughter behind her somehow managed to be full of both happiness and malice, and she hated it. Tears ran down her face, and she ran. Somewhere, somewhere in the direction she ran, she'd find home. Home would be safe. At home they'd leave her alone, they'd all stop chasing her and laughing at her. Home wasn't cruel. At home, her parents would wipe off her face and tell her nice things.

"Ghost-girl~!" The voice of the one who started making fun of her first called over the wind. "Where oh-where are you haunting now?!"

She tried to stay out of their way. She didn't want to be noticed. Nothing about her was worth being noticed over, but those girls...they always did. Her big forehead made it impossible to hide anywhere, they'd said. So, she'd started to cover her face and hide behind her hair. But...it was too pink, too obviously different and they found her anyway.

They'd started chasing her off when they found her now, calling her a ghost, insisting that they needed to rid the village of her before she stole away their souls.

She only wanted to be left alone.

Ahead of her, a rustle of robes caught her attention. She didn't recognize the person, but he was an adult. The sounds of the girls behind her were close now, so she ducked immediately behind him, clinging to his leg and crying in desperation.

For a few moments the figure simply stopped, silent. When the girls approached, though, he spoke in a gruff and commanding voice.

It wasn't at her.

With some reluctance, the girls turned and scattered away.

He said something to her after that. She thought it might have been chastisement, but she was too busy sniffling and rubbing at her face to hear what it was. Before he left, slim fingers tapped lightly on the top of her head.

)+(

Her first trip outside of the village wasn't to go anywhere else. Students were separated into small teams and then sent off into the forests outside Konoha. They were meant to be out for the afternoon, gather mushrooms, and then come back to their instructors.

It rained that day. She liked the group of students around her, none of them were the mean ones who made fun of her, and they were all just as excited as she was to go on their very first 'mission' outside the village. With all the rain, finding mushrooms would be easy, their instructors said, and they only had small bags to fill.

They weren't supposed to split up, but they'd only filled half of their bags and they didn't have very much time left, so all of them went different directions and promised to come back to the same spot.

It didn't take long for her to become lost. Even though her bag was mostly full, she couldn't remember which direction she'd come from, and everywhere she looked seemed familiar. When she picked a direction and started to sprint that way, the mud underneath her gave way and she slid violently down a cliffside.

Everything hurt.

Her back hurt. Her legs hurt. Her ankle looked bigger than it should have been, and when she reached out to touch it, pain shot through her leg.

Like this, she couldn't move.

Like this, no one would find her.

Like this, she'd never get home at all.

She scrubbed muddy hands into her face and wept.

"Fool."

She froze. The voice sounded nearly her age, but it wasn't familiar at all. Could it have been...an enemy...?

Hesitantly, frightened, she slowly lowered one hand to peek out in the direction of the voice. A boy only a little older than her scowled down at her. His shoulder and his chin and neck were all bandaged, but he didn't seem bothered by the injuries. Instead, he just glared down at her.

"You won't fix anything crying, stupid fool."

Her lip trembled looking up at him. "B...but...but I don't know how to get home..."

His expression turned to something like disgust, and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Home is that way. If you can't find your way back on your own, you shouldn't leave at all."

He walked on by her then, and no matter how much she called out to him, complaining that she hurt, that her ankle wouldn't work, he didn't answer.

She stumbled and limped in the direction he pointed, and after only a little while longer one of her teachers appeared, flustered, worried, and more than a little irritated that the students hadn't followed orders.

)+(

"Please...! Please just bring him back to me!"

She felt sick.

Her stomach knotted up, and she actually felt sick.

She'd felt plenty helpless, she'd felt hopeless and sad and frustrated before. She knew her life wasn't as hard as her teammates' lives had been. It wasn't hard at all, really. But she'd still felt sad, she'd felt all of the things she felt now.

She'd never felt them so keenly before.

She'd never felt so completely alone. She'd failed to stop Sasuke going, even when she knew he would. He never listened to her before, so of course he didn't this time, either. All of the hope she felt when he whispered those last words to her shattered into horrified despair when the team that went out - her friends who promised to bring him back to her after all - came back to Konoha in critical condition, all of them nearly killed trying and failing to bring him back.

She hadn't done anything. She couldn't do anything, everyone nearly died, and Sasuke was still gone.

Before she knew it, Naruto left too.

She felt alone, and now she was alone, and it was all because she couldn't do anything. She'd promised Naruto and herself that it would change. She promised she would do something next time. It didn't make him stay put, though. He still left, and she was still here.

They were gone, and life still continued, and somehow that life was one without them.

The Hokage accepted her as an apprentice, promised to teach her all the Sannin knew so that, in three years time when they would seek out Sasuke again, she'd be able to do something that time. The Hokage trained her so mercilessly, so brutally that often all she could do between sessions was sleep and struggle to eat to regain her energy.

On the days when she didn't, Konoha still had missions, and Sakura was still a genin of the leaf.

The team she worked with today were all out gathering food while she tended the fire and protected the camp.

So, of course, that would be exactly the time a small child (so young he might not have even been Academy age yet) stumbled into the camp. His dark eyes were wild with confusion and paranoia as he looked around the area, and then he settled his gaze on her.

"Hey!" He shouted, making her jump. "Where did you take me?! What did you do?"

"Wha-?" She shook her head. "What are you talking about? Who are you?" She stood, reaching for the kunai at her waist. It was weird, but maybe this was some kind of attack - appearing like a harmless kid and expecting her to be off guard. "How did you get here?!"

He took a step back, and settled into an admirable defensive position, pulling up a kunai of his own. "Don't pretend you don't know, Traitor! I was somewhere else, and you kidnapped me!"

"Kidnap-Traitor?!" She shook her head, confusion beginning to melt into frustration. For being such a tiny kid, he had a loud mouth. And he was rude. Why the hell would she be a traitor? "What are you talking about? I've never even seen you before!"

"Seen who?" One of her teammates sprinted up to camp from the treeline, drawing her attention briefly away from the child in front of her.

"The-" She cut off abruptly in frustration when she turned back to where he had been. "Damn it! He ran away!"

Whoever it was must have been some kind of a scout. If they didn't catch him now, they'd have to move the whole camp and set up somewhere else entirely.

And she'd just gotten the fire at the level she wanted it.

)+(

She flipped through the papers clipped into the metal board she carried. For the most part, all hokage duties were handled by either the Hokage herself, or Shizune her oft-beleaguered assistant. Every once in a while, a flood of paperwork required so much attention that it was just simpler to borrow an extra pair of hands.

It wasn't like she handled anything sensitive. Honestly, any jounin in the vicinity of the Lady Hokage could have done anything handed to her. Most of the jounin knew better than to linger in the woman's vicinity. She didn't mind, though. Helping with little things really was the absolute least she could do in return for all the instruction and help that the Lady Hokage granted her. Besides that, she wanted to help. She wanted to be useful.

Naruto and Sasuke had both been gone for nearly two years now, and the crushing sense of helplessness she felt whenever she thought of them hadn't alleviated at all. By the time Naruto came back, by the time they'd go and bring Sasuke back tomorrow, she promised herself she wouldn't feel it at all anymore. She'd make sure she was someone who wouldn't need to.

If reading and memorizing a few long reports from various jounin from time to time happened to be a part of that, she didn't mind.

She'd walked the path often enough that she didn't worry about looking up from the papers, so long as she walked at a reasonable pace. The people of Konoha generally had enough manners to get out of the way of someone walking, and it wasn't as if she wouldn't sense someone near her long before she actually bumped into anyone.

...She assumed, anyway.

A hand touched her shoulder, and thin lips pressed to her cheek just above her jaw. She didn't know when the person got close enough, she didn't immediately recognize them, either.

He showed incredible nimbleness to dodge the right hook she responded with.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

The man...actually, he looked about her age. She didn't recognize him at all, but part of the reason behind her lack of recognition could have been the lingering blind rage she still felt. He actually had the audacity to look annoyed. He snuck up on a kunoichi (somehow!) and stole a kiss! And he looked annoyed!

"What you asked." His tone was entirely too calm for narrowly avoiding a fist that would surely have sent him through a house or three. It was as flat as if she'd just asked him why they were hidden in the leaves.

Which made the least sense of anything that just happened.

"I did not! I don't even know who you are."

His lips twitched in irritation, as if he only just managed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes or say something derogatory.

Maybe she ought to make another attempt at avenging her cheek.

"And yet you asked me for a kiss all the same."

Why did he look so irritated? He was the one being unreasonable!

"First. No. I didn't." She pointed at him, settling for now on asking him questions before clobbering him again, just in case he forgot any answers between now and the end of his hospital stay. "Second, why would you even want to kiss someone you don't know, even if I had?"

His lips twitched, and he squinted at her a moment. Afterward, his expression smoothed to neutrality again and he shook his head. "Curiosity. It's not a request I often receive from strangers."

"Well you wouldn't." Yet, he seemed...perfectly serious. Annoyed, but serious. Not at all like the kind of lecherous pervert she'd expect from someone who randomly walked up and kissed strange women on the street. She found it disconcerting.

Come to think of it, actually, he didn't look familiar at all. He moved like a shinobi (no civilian, no matter how prepared, would have been able to dodge her attack so easily), and he wore a headband from Konoha, but he didn't even look like someone she'd seen in passing before. His dark hair spiked out in even wilder ways than Naruto's ever had, lines already started to form on his face that suggested he scowled far too often, and he had a distinctive set of scars she'd never seen before on his chin. He didn't look familiar at all.

Which was weird, because she lurked over the Hokage's shoulder often enough when the Lady Hokage gave out missions that she'd been certain she'd seen every face in Konoha at least once. Every face not hidden by an ANBU mask.

He watched her as if he were expecting something, and for a moment she worried that she'd missed a question.

No, he'd definitely just been looking at her, as if he were waiting for her to do something else. Maybe he was properly wary. Or maybe he was waiting for her to realize he wasn't a shinobi of Konoha after all. "...I've never seen you before."

His brows knit a moment. "So you've said."

Well...not in so many words. She squinted at him. "I've seen most of the people in this village."

"As have I."

He said it as if she weren't the Hokage's student and not the one under suspicion! It was like everything he said he specifically designed to make her angry ahead of time.

"Well then? Why are you stalling? Who are you?"

"You hadn't asked me before now." He frowned at her, expression a bit like she'd expect a teacher's to be if she failed to pay attention in class before a test. She couldn't actually decide whether to be flustered or angry about it, honestly. "My name is Danzo. And yours?"

She blinked at him in silence for a moment or two.

But-that was...

Wait.

She'd never personally met him, come to think of it, but she'd definitely heard descriptions which the man in front of her did not fit. There weren't two shinobi of the same village named the same thing, neither of whom she'd met, were there?

"You...what?"