#damn i wish i was teaching the upper level class where i could use this graphic but we don't get to octatonic this semester

[legobiwan]

The use of the octatonic scale here is driving me insane, if for no other reason than that I want to know why this scale in particular was chosen, because it is a deliberate decision. (I have a whole post ready to go with some bat-shit music theory (over)analysis that I may or may not put up later today).

[spookysanta]

The TA - two. (h.c., c.e.)

Summary: everything about this situation is...weird.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: none

here’s part two! she’s a bit lengthy, fyi. enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

After a couple of days, she’d gotten used to the formality that is Professor Chris Evans (and company). She’d gotten used to the emails that open with, “I hope this message finds you well”, even though it rarely did.

So thanks, Chris, for the well-wishes but no thank you.

The first day of Fall classes was stressful, to say the least. She woke up later than she intended for her 8 a.m. class, then she got lost on her trip from one lecture hall to another, and by the time she had to get to Franklin for Chris’ class, she was practically running across campus. She burst into the lecture hall two minutes before class was set to begin. Walking to the main podium where Chris stood preparing for that day’s lecture, she breathed out, “Sorry I’m late.”

He turned to her with a smirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of a rough day is all.” She waved him off, completely ignoring the loud slam of the lecture hall’s doors. A figure emerged next to her holding a tray of coffees from The Bistro.

“Good morning!” Henry greeted, clearly having a better day than she was. He offered Chris a cup, then set the tray down on the desk that sat adjacent to the presenter’s podium, taking the other two and offering one to her. She thanked him quietly. “You ready?” he asked Chris.

Chris laughed. And for the first time, she laughed along with him. And seeing it firsthand, she could tell they had a good relationship by the way they interacted. She could tell that Chris genuinely enjoys Henry’s company as his TA, and not just for the things that he does to be helpful—they have a good thing. “Yeah, I’m ready—I’m excited. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“No problem. It was on my way here.”

She felt out of place as they engaged in banter.

She looked around the steadily filling classroom and saw students from all walks of life; she’ll admit, that’s one of the only perks of college in her mind—there was always someone for everyone. There are all kinds of people from different races, religions, creeds—all gathering to pursue higher education. In that respect, she found college to be interesting. But in any other regard, she hated it.

Henry took note of her silence, “Are you excited, (Y/N)?”

She turned to him sharply, not having anticipated him addressing her so suddenly. She nodded curtly, “Yep.”

“You don’t sound like it.” Chris retorted as he set up his laptop to broadcast a slideshow on the projector screens that took up nearly all of the space on the wall behind them. “C’mon, this is going to be fun!”

She offered them a dry chuckle as she watched the screens illuminate with a bright white background and black lettering that read:

WELCOME TO CHEMISTRY 120, SECTION D346-0

PROFESSOR CHRIS EVANS, D. SC.

HENRY CAVILL AND (Y/N) (Y/L/N), GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE TAs

Yeah, that’s totally not intimidating. “Ooh,” Henry nudged her with his elbow, “look at that—you’re official.” He turned to her, pointing an index finger at the screens. “Listen, this is going to be no big deal.”

“You sound like him.” She pointed to Chris, who was hooking up a small microphone that he would connect to his shirt.

“Well I mean it. You’ll be fine. The most we’re going to have to do is pass out papers and introduce ourselves—easy peasy.”

She hummed in understanding. “Mhm.” She took a big gulp from her coffee cup, its liquid now only warm from Henry’s commute. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Henry shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good morning, class.” Chris spoke into the microphone, his voice projecting through the speakers in the room. The chatter among students died down quickly. “I’m Professor Evans and welcome to Chemistry 120, section D346-0.” She noticed that he was like her—he fidgeted, too. His hands were behind his back, but she could see him fiddling with the remote that was in them. One hand was wrapped around his opposite wrist, and his free hand twirled the remote between his fingers.

“I’d like for my TAs to introduce themselves. They’ll be helping you a lot this semester.”

He took a handheld microphone from behind the podium and turned it on, handing it to Henry. “I’m Henry, I’m a graduate TA studying microbiology.” He stated with a muted wave. “I’ve been working with Professor Evans for about four semesters now, so I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.” He handed the microphone to her, his thumb brushing hers when she took it. Their eyes met briefly.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m an undergraduate student studying bio. This is my first semester as a TA for this class so I’m very excited to work with all of you.” There. That was easy enough. Henry looked to her with a small smile.

“Alright,” Chris spoke up after she handed him the microphone to be put away, “so I’ll be quick with the introductory stuff—I know no-one wants to hear me drone on about safety procedures for the next ninety minutes.” He gestured to a stack of papers that sat on the desk. “Could you pass those out?” he asked Henry and (Y/N) politely.

Henry nodded, effortlessly picking up the large stack of papers. He approached her and instructed in a whisper, “Take half.” She grabbed a substantial stack of papers, making her way across half of the lecture hall and handing students a sheet of paper going by rows, mimicking the movements that Henry made. They both made it to the middle; there they stood on a walkway that connected to the path that led to the front of the room. He followed behind her back to the podium as they awaited their next tasks.

“So, what you just got are information forms. We’re going to read them, go over the most important stuff, then at the end, you’ll sign them, and they’ll be collected.” Chris cleared his throat, beginning to read from the page, only really emphasizing the important aspects of the course.

She took a page off the stack, reading as he spoke. 

COURSE POLICIES:

No food/drink/snacks in the lecture hall or lab (water in a clear container is allowed)

No electronics of any kind are allowed in the lab

Late work will not be accepted in any capacity

All paper assignments must be turned in at the end of each class to TAs

Online work must be submitted before deadline—pages will close after the assigned time

Attendance (especially on lab days) is mandatory

All absences are considered unexcused unless otherwise authorized with a note or confirmation e-mail

Now it’s all come full circle for her. She can clearly see why a lot of his previous students called him a hard ass. And majority of the policies he listed, she doesn’t even plan to uphold herself. So how could she expect three-hundred students—freshmen, at that—to comply?

The policies were reasonable, sure, but hard to enforce.

He made sure to emphasize the dress code, late work, and attendance policies; it was apparent that those were real issues among his classes over the years. “Additionally,” he continued after having spoken without stopping for twenty minutes, “this is the only introductory chemistry class I’m teaching this semester, which means everything you submit will be read and graded. There are no grades for completion or participation.”

She heard several students groan. She leaned to Henry, “Wait. He teaches other classes?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back, “He also teaches upper-level biology and organic chemistry, and he taught a statistics class last year but I’m not sure if he still does.”

Damn. No wonder he was so organized.

And she found that interesting; that definitely explained why he would have her and Henry do a lot of the grading for this class’ assignments. He probably didn’t have time to breathe in between classes, let alone grade three-hundred lab reports.

By the end of his class that seemed never-ending, she was absolutely exhausted. She was having daydreams of her cozy bed when Henry approached her after he finished collecting signed forms from his side of the classroom. “You alright?” Henry asked.

She stifled a yawn, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good class today, guys. I’m really excited for this semester.” Chris gushed, visibly happy with their help.

“Me, too.” Replied Henry. “I think this batch will be better than last semester’s.”

“Ugh. Don’t even get me started on last semester’s class.” He shook his head as he began to gather papers and his laptop into his bag. “I’ve never wanted to rip my hair out more than I did last semester.”

Henry laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

The two assistants prepared themselves to leave. Before they said their “goodbyes”, Chris asked them to meet with him in his office (as there was another class filing in).

“So,” Chris closed the door to his office, muffling the bustle of the room outside that was quickly filling up with the literature class that started right after theirs. “I wanted to know what you’ll be doing this weekend.”

“Um…” (Y/N) was confused. “Why?”

“Because I want to get a head start on grading these papers and entering everyone’s information into the database.” He pulled the stack of forms from his bag and clamped them together with a binder clip. “So, if you and Henry are free this weekend, that’d really help me out.”

“I’m not busy,” Henry shrugged. “I keep my weekends open anyway.”

She wasn’t busy either, but the weekend to work? This couldn’t wait until later?

“I’ll be free this weekend.” She kept her voice cheery but really regretted not lying when she had the chance.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “We’ll plan for a time for you to come over and we’ll knock it out in an hour or two.” Come over?

“Come over where?” she asked.

“Oh! My house.” Chris clarified, “When Henry and I had a lot of papers to grade, he usually comes over to my place early in the morning, we grade papers, and we go about our day. That’s not an issue for you, is it?”

“No, not at all.” It was a bit odd, though. But she’ll be honest in saying that she found all of this…odd in one way or another.

“Cool.” Henry looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, I don’t want to miss tonight’s game.”

Chris’ eyes widened in realization. “Dammit.” He swore, “I forgot there was a game on tonight.” He stood and grabbed his things, going around his desk to the door, and ushering us out of his office. He shut and locked the door behind them. They walked swiftly and quietly across the front of the classroom and out the door to converse in the hallway. “Alright, you guys. Have a great rest of your day, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.” He waved, then turned and left through the faculty doors.

Henry looked at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Together, they walked leisurely down the stairs and out of the lecture hall, through the hustle of the “afternoon class rush”.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time today. “You’re quiet.”

“Do you think…” she paused, wanting to pick the right words to say. “do you think it’s—I don’t know—odd that Chris wants us to meet at his house to grade papers?”

“What would make you think that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems weird to me.” Someone who was on their phone bumped into her causing her to drop the books she was carrying. “Shit.” She went to grab her book, but Henry picked it up for her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He opened the doors to the lecture hall, where they looked outside and saw that it was pouring. “Wow, it’s really comin’ down out there.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.” She groaned out loud. “Fuck my life.”

Henry laughed at her misery, “You need a ride?”

“Your car’s fixed?”

“Yeah.” He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. “I took it to the shop after our meeting. Obviously I had to call a tow truck before I could get it to the mechanic’s, but I got it there eventually. It’s doing great now in case you were wondering—it almost runs perfectly.”

“I wasn’t.” she gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thanks for the information, though.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed playfully. “You want a ride or not?”

She really shouldn’t. This guy, as holy as he is in the eye of the Almighty Chris, could be a monster. He could be a serial killer. He could be plotting to attack her—she’d lost count of how many news stories she’s read about kidnappings on college campuses—and who knows, she could be on his list.

But then again, it was pouring outside, and the walk back to her apartment was long. The air was getting cooler and combined with the darkness of the sky and the time of day, she’d end up with the flu by the end of the afternoon.

“Fine.”

He took his jacket from his shoulders and handed it to her. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You need it more than me, okay? So put the jacket on.” He commanded.

She didn’t like that he didn’t ask nicely, but she did it anyway. And she wouldn’t tell him out loud, but goodness, his jacket smelled good. Like every kind of good smell that someone would want on a man combined with the smell of men’s shampoo in the hood, she was in heaven. She tried not to let it show but she made sure to take deep inhales through her nose as they journeyed to his car.

They exited the lecture hall, running down the slippery cobblestone sidewalk like the rest of the students in their avoidance of getting wet from the impending storm. He guided her to his car, opening the door for her, then climbed in the driver’s seat. “Whew,” he breathed, buckling his seatbelt. “that was interesting.”

His car was quite nice. She’d expected it to be really junky and out of shape—because of the godforsaken breakdown—but it was surprisingly clean and smelled good, too. Not in a cologne way, but in a “detailed car” way.

“Yeah, it was.” She replied, also trying to catch her breath from running, “You have a nice car.”

“Thank you. I was trying to tell you that earlier, but you didn’t want to believe me.”

“No, I didn’t.” she laughed. “You proved me wrong.”

He revved the engine. “So, where to?”

“Brookwood Heights.”

“Shut up.” He all but exclaimed, his eyes widening to the size of Mars. “I live there!”

Oh, that’s great.

“Really? That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, that’s so funny!” he pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the busy street. “What a small world.”

They managed to get to their apartment complex without issue. He helped her get all her belongings out of the car, then grabbed his and locked his car before they went inside, the cool air of the complex’s lobby almost smacking them in the face. They trudged to the elevator, entering the small box and leaning against the guardrails in exhaustion. She pressed the 3 on the keypad. “What floor?”

Not looking up from his phone, he mumbled, “3.”

Are you kidding me?

“That’s my floor.”

His head snapped up. “So, we’re floormates, huh?” he smirked.

“I guess so.”

The elevator dinged and they stepped out. It seemed like they were deliberately walking slowly down the hall so that they could see where the other person would drop off, but they just kept walking side-by-side until they got to the very end of the hall. She stopped in front of her door. “Well, this is me.”

He stood at the door across the hall from hers and pointed at the number, “This is me.”

So, they’re neighbors.

They’re co-workers…and now they’re neighbors.

Because of course, life can’t get any more cliché than it already is.

“See you around?” he called to her once he unlocked his front door.

“Yeah, see you around.” She waved with a small smile, opening her front door and stepping into her abode.

Damn, she missed her apartment today. She tossed her keys in the bowl by the door and took off her wet shoes. Then she set her bag on the adjacent counter. She shuffled off her jacket—

Wait.

This wasn’t her jacket. She didn’t wear a jacket today. It was Henry’s jacket.

She wanted to yell. She didn’t feel like being social anymore today. She decided to set the jacket on the coat rack by the front door; that way she’ll be able to bring it to him in the morning. She went to her bedroom and stripped from her wet clothes, going into the restroom and starting a shower.

Finally.

*

The following days were surprisingly good. She didn’t gripe and moan about the weather—it was rainy every morning that week—Henry rapped on her front door at the same time and offered to drive her to Franklin Hall. Some days, she accepted, and they even stopped at The Bistro if they had the time. Some days she didn’t, and those were the days where Henry seemed more on edge, only to visibly settle when he saw her enter the classroom or laboratory.

Today was Saturday; today was the day that she had to meet at Chris’ house to grade the lab reports from Tuesday and Thursday’s classes.

She wasn’t particularly excited about it.

She had to get up early because Chris wanted to get started at nine a.m., which was ungodly early for a Saturday—or any day, really.

Three knocks sounded sharply on her front door, “You ready?” Henry’s voice bellowed through the wood.

She rushed, opening the front door. “Almost.” She shuffled on a hoodie over her t-shirt, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He entered wordlessly and sat on the first chair he saw, which just so happened to have his jacket laying across the back. “So, I’m assuming this is yours now?”

She looked at the item he was holding. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “I meant to give that back. I’m sorry.”

He chuckled at her demeanor, “It’s fine. It’s bad out today, so I don’t mind if you need it.”

“I should be fine, thank you,” she forced her feet into a pair of sneakers, fighting to get her index finger from between the shoe’s fabric and the heel of her foot. “plus, I don’t want to hog your stuff.”

“You’re not hogging anything. If you need it, wear it.”

“But it’s yours.” She threw on her backpack, grabbing her keys, phone and wallet from the bowl by the front door. “Take it.”

“No.” he laid it back in its original position on the chair. “Give it back once the storm passes, okay? I’m just looking out for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but it made her smile anyway, “Fine. Thank you.” She opened the front door and practically shoving him out of her apartment and down the hall.

“You’re welcome.”

She’s not sure what’s happening. She’s started to like Henry’s company. Her goal when everything started was to remain polite and formal, and now…she thinks of him as a friend—which was not her plan.

They rode in a comfortable silence to Chris’ house. He could tell she was stressed. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Her shoulders shrugged, the fabric of her hoodie rubbing against her seatbelt. “I still think going to Chris’ house to grade papers is weird.”

“Nah,” he retorted, “it’s really casual. He makes a pot of coffee, and he even made me breakfast once. It doesn’t usually take long either—in and out.”

“So, I have nothing to be worried about?” she asked, their eyes meeting when he stopped at a red light. “This isn’t a setup for the two of you murder me, right?”

“If I wanted to murder you, I’ve had ample opportunities before today to do so.”

As if that’s reassuring.

“Thanks for sparing my life, I guess.” She muttered.

“Seriously, though. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And if you get uncomfortable, I’ll say my apartment flooded and we’ll leave. Okay?”

She snorted, “Flooded?”

“Flooded. On fire. Intruder. My cat died. I’ll make something up.” He turned into a neighborhood of houses, pulling into a driveway behind a blue SUV, and shifting the car’s gear into “park”. “Say the word and we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

She nodded. She felt the slightest bit better about the situation. She didn’t really know if it was because he was so willing to drive her home, or if it was because he was so willing to drive her home just to keep her comfortable. Nonetheless, she appreciated it. “Okay.”

He reached behind him and pulled his shoulder bag from behind her seat. “And then, when we’re done, we can go to The Bistro and load up on cookies.”

“Their cookies are good…”

“Easily the best cookies I’ve had in a while. So, don’t do this because we’re required to, do this for the incentive of sugar.” He looked at her. “Lots and lots of sugar.”

They got out of his car with their bags and trudged up the driveway’s pavement, him following behind her to the front door. He emerged next to her and rang the doorbell.

Chris opened the door with a smile, “Hey.”

Not to mention, he wasn’t dressed like a professor at all. He was wearing grey sweatpants along with a cobalt blue zip-up jacket that was opened, showing off the white tank top he had on underneath.

And let’s not forget about the cross necklace—a minor addition, but still very important to the outfit.

“Good morning!” Henry cheered.

“Morning.” She greeted timidly.

Henry allowed her to step into the threshold of Chris’ home first. He entered, too, commenting, “Ooh. It smells good in here.”

“You caught me while I was making myself some pancakes—are you guys hungry?”

“I could eat.” Replied Henry as he plopped himself onto the couch in the front room, setting his bag on the coffee table before he sat down.

Chris looked to her, “Pancakes?” he asked simply with a point.

“Sure.” She shuffled off her backpack and sat next to Henry on the opposite end of the couch. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered to herself. She unpacked her bag and set her laptop on the coffee table.

Not a few moments later, the two of them heard Chris shout from the kitchen, “Pancakes!”

Henry hopped up from his seat. He held out his hand in front of her, “C’mon.”

She took it and allowed him to pull her up…his hands were soft. Calloused at the knuckles, but soft, nonetheless. She almost hesitated to let go. But she did, regrettably. She followed him into the kitchen and took a plate from the stack on the counter next to the stove. Henry wasted no time in stacking his plate high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, drowning everything in sticky maple syrup.

She, however, was a bundle of nerves, so she didn’t grab much—only two pancakes and two strips of bacon for herself. Henry balanced his plate, a handful of silverware, and a cup of coffee in his muscular arms and walked carefully back to the living room.

“You sure that’s all you want?” Chris asked, pointing to her plate as he poured the hot coffee from the carafe and into a large mug. “There’s plenty to go around.”

She shook her head politely, “I think I’m good for now.” She took a mug from the counter and held it out to him. “Could you pour me some, please?”

“Of course.” He poured the coffee into her mug a bit more than halfway. He offered her milk from the refrigerator, and she took it, pouring into her mug leisurely. He watched her and said almost in a mumble, “So…how are you liking things?”

“What things?” she replied.

“The position. The class itself—hell, your classes. How are you getting on?”

“Good, I suppose.” She shrugged. “I like the job a lot, and working with you guys. My classes are hard this semester—I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, Calculus seems so much more difficult than I remember.”

“Who do you have for that class?” he took a long sip from his mug, leaning his back comfortably against the countertop. “Mackie?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He assigns so much work, I can barely keep up. And his class is in Jackson Hall—on the other side of campus—so I basically have to run to his class in order to get there on time if Henry doesn’t drive me.”

“Henry drives you to class?”

Out of all she said, that’s what he clung to?

“Yeah, most days. Apparently, we’re neighbors in the same complex, and he has a class in Jackson at the same time as mine. I don’t have a car and he does, so it just made sense.”

Chris hummed. “Well, I’m good friends with Mackie; he and I were actually roommates in undergrad. So if you need me to, I can put in a word.”

“A word?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Your studies are important, but so is your job. So if you need to be excused from his class every now and again, or you need help catching up, I can help you.”

“Oh.” She pondered for a moment. She needed this job, yes, but not so much that she feels the need to fall behind on her schoolwork to keep Chris company. “Well, I think I’m fine for now, but thank you for the offer.”

“Sure. Anything to help.” He patted a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her flesh, then left the kitchen.

She sat back on the couch next to Henry and timidly ate her breakfast while he and Chris engaged in conversation about the upcoming events in the area.

We do shoulder rubs now? She asked in her brain. He seemed almost…flirty? And when I mentioned Henry driving me to class, he visibly almost tensed. What was that about?

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea for the two of you to go.”

That’s when she started to pay attention. “Go to what?”

“There are student tutoring sessions in Hampton Hall for all undergraduate classes. Generally, I don’t make my students attend because there aren’t any undergraduate TAs in my class. But now, you’re here, so my class is on the roster.” Then, he muttered, “And Henry can take you.”

She nodded, taking her planner out of her bag. “When are they?”

“Thursdays at three. I’ve been told that they usually run about an hour, so it won’t take up all your afternoon. Then, you and Henry can do…whatever.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing to her, then back to Chris.

That was strange.

She didn’t question it. She was eager to finish grading her set of papers so that she could shove Henry out the door, get their cookies—that he suggested, and thus, will pay for—and head home to sleep the rest of her day away.

It took them a total of two hours to finish grading that week’s lab reports and put them into Chris’ online gradebook, and put the students’ information into a spreadsheet. After they cleared their trash and put their plates and silverware into the kitchen sink, she all but threw her belongings into her backpack. Henry put his bag over his shoulder, bushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Well,” Henry began, taking his car keys from his front pocket and twirling the keychain around his index finger. “we should get going.”

“Sure. I don’t want to keep the two of you busy.” Chris replied as he ushered his two assistants to the front door, his tone not displaying any care for taking up the early part of their afternoon. “Have a great weekend, guys. See you Monday.”

They left and walked quietly side-by-side to Henry’s car. He backed out of the driveway and sped out of the neighborhood and down the street. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked her.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeated, “What makes you unsure?”

She almost hesitated to mention it. But there was no logical way Henry didn’t pick up on Chris’ comments throughout their time there. “Chris was just acting weird, is all.”

“Define weird.”

“He kept saying things about you and me carpooling, and he even offered to excuse me from my Calc class with Mackie.” She suddenly found her fingers much more interesting to look at than the road in front of them. “And he touched my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder, actually.”

“You think he was acting out of the ordinary…because he touched your shoulder?”

“No! Well, yes, but he seemed upset when I told him that you and I carpool, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s professional.”

“If he didn’t think it was professional, he would’ve said so, instead of making snide comments.”

He parked the car in front of The Bistro, then turned it off and turned to her. “Maybe he doesn’t like us hanging out.”

Hanging out? Is that what he called it?

The two of them got out of the car and walked into the cold coffee shop, standing in line behind the last patron. “I don’t know,” she said lowly so as to not disturb the other customers with their conversation. “I just think that it doesn’t make sense for him to be so…intrusive.”

He looked at her. “Do you want me to say something?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If it’s not what I think it is, he may get offended.”

“I don’t think he will.” It was soon their turn to order. “Six chocolate chip cookies, please.” He pulled out his wallet and paid for their snacks in cash, then moved to the other side of the counter to pick them up. He handed them to her, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

The two sat at a table—a similar table to the one they first sat at together, but this one was by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He opened the parchment bag the cookies were in and handed her one. “I will say,” he started with his mouth full, “he seemed off today.”

“See? I knew it—”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s being gross, alright? Everyone has an off-day every now and then.”

The two sat in silence after that. He watched students and professors alike walk past The Bistro, some of them entering the café to enjoy pastries and coffee like they were. He began to bounce his leg on the ball of his foot; something, she noticed, that he couldn’t help but do when he was deep in thought. Either that, or sitting cross-legged and wiggling his foot back and forth.

He cannot sit still. Neither can she usually—but it’s apparent that since she’s met him, he made her feel more comfortable…safe, even. She doesn’t pick at her fingers nearly as much.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” he asked her after a few moments of them silently people-watching. “Are you uncomfortable around him?”

“Not really.” She replied, not knowing exactly how she felt about Chris. She was intrigued by him, yes; she found him attractive, certainly; but she still didn’t know him. And because of that, she seemed to be more on edge when speaking to him. Henry wasn’t anything like that.

“A part of me just has a feeling that he’s coming onto me.”

He coughed, almost choking on his lemonade. “Like, romantically?”

“Yeah. That’s what it seems like.”

He hummed in response. He got up and threw away his trash and hers, offering a hand to help her stand. They soon left The Bistro. He opened the car door for her, then pulled out of the parking lot.

The atmosphere shifted. She knew that there was some form of attraction towards him from her, but was it reciprocated? She didn’t know, but judging by the way his eyebrows were persistent in their angry furrowing, there was something wrong with what she said at the restaurant.

They eventually got back to their complex. He didn’t say a word to her on their trek from the lot to their hallway. “G’night.” He said simply, unlocking his front door and shutting it behind him.

***

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[pie-yrites]

I was a touch from six years old when it happened. Dean was four, not even halfway to five, and little Sammy was six months old. Mom burned on the ceiling, Dad telling Dean go run out with baby Sammy, our entire lives falling apart in a split second. 

I don't write any of that, of course. My teacher asked for our name and one important fact about ourselves onto a note card, to read out loud to the rest of the class. Not only is it disturbing but also unbelievable, and would raise too many questions. 

"My name is Violet Winchester, I hate the colour purple and I'm seven years old." I pout, reading out from what I actually wrote down in red crayon. My attitude seems to garner some giggles and a smile from the teacher, who all think I'm simply being playful. The positive attention brings a small smile to my face and I sit down, not even bothered by the fact that I just got laughed at for hating my own name. 

I wonder how Dee and Sammy are doing.

--

Since mommy died, my life is a lot different. Once it's time for our first recess, I sneak out of the colourful room (walls decorated with paper crafts, soft traffic and space rugs covering the floors, some toys scattered around) and run through the hall, to where I know my Dee is. He's two years younger than me, and Its my job as the oldest to check on him. Dad said so, and what dad says goes. 

Later on I'll realize just how many levels of wrong everything is, just beginning with the fact that my brother should be in kindergarten, but right now that doesn't faze me. My world is small, just me, my family, and the Impala. 

I knock on the door loudly, practically banging my tiny fist against it. The door opens, revealing a teacher unfamiliar but friendly looking nonetheless.

"Hi! Is Dee Winchester in there? I mean Dean. Is he here?" I ask, a stutter coming out from my nerves. This teacher is a boy, unlike mine and it makes a strange difference in my mind. The only boys I like are mine, my family, other boys tend to pick on me for being strange. 

The teacher smiled, slightly unsurprised. It wasn't hard to guess the situation at hand. This wasn't uncommon, for siblings to try and find each other. 

"You must be Violet! Dean has talked a lot about you. Here, come in!" He motioned in and held the door open. I poke my head in, unsure, but instantly relax upon finding him sitting at a table. His classroom was similar to mine, but that wasn't important.

"Pie!" He called out, excited. We ran to each other, and to his dismay I grabbed him into a fierce hug. He was now getting to that age where he wanted to be a man, too tough for his big sister's affection but that didn't bother me.

"Let me go! You have cooties!" He shrieked, as we devolved into wrestling. He was still smaller than me, so I had the upper hand. 

"Nope! Big sis wants her love!" I laughed, not aware of the attention I was bringing us in that classroom. Within seconds, Dee's teacher came over, chuckling. 

"Alright you two, break it up. Violet, you need to go back to your class." And many times over the next few years, that's how it'd go. Any chance I got, I'd seek out Dean. And then eventually, pick him up and find whatever Sammy may be, once he got into school. 

At whatever school we were at for the month, we seemed inseparable, happy, but ultimately normal. 

--

"Grab me a beer, huh Pie?" My dad groaned out, from the couch. I could tell today had been long for him, his voice extra gruff and his movements fatigued and slow. His entrance into the hotel room thankfully hadn't woken Dee or Sammy up, from where they were curled up together on one of the beds right next to the couch. 

"Can I get a pop?" I asked in response, already opening the mini fridge and seeking the cold, brown bottle. The fridge was like many we had before, each in a new and forgotten city, each time stocked with only the bare necessities. Beer and whiskey, formula and baby food, and sometimes if we were on good behaviour, cheap off brand soda pop. 

"It's past midnight. Grab me the damn beer, now." He demanded, his temper short. I'll take that as a no, then, I thought sourly. My only outward response was silence, and then to sit down next to him. The tv was already on, set to the animal channel. He took the bottle from me, a nod as thanks and popped the cap off with the bottle opener he kept on his belt, while I flicked the channel to the local news. 

At this point it was common enough to be a habit. On the nights dad was out late on a hunt, I'd put the boys to bed with a promise that I was just going to shower than lay too. Typically I only took a fast one, in case dad wanted the hot water. Wait on the couch for him, even if it meant staying up far too late and sleeping the next day away. Some nights, dad would order me to bed immediately as soon as he came back, and I'd scurry and try to force myself under to avoid his exhaustion-induced wrath. Other nights he'd ask for a drink and we'd watch television together. On the best nights, his drink would be a pop and I'd even get one too. 

I was physically six,  but with the way we lived sometimes I felt far older. I was old enough from the beginning to realize that our new nomadic lifestyle was something bigger, something much darker. Looking back, I can see that from the youngest of ages, I could always tell when someone was lying to me, or was hiding something insidious. It didn't take long for me to find out what dad was really doing everyday, moving us from city to city, state to state.

"Sammy's about to start walking." I broke the silence between us one night, clearly trying to infer something to my dad. He grunted in response, and took a sip of his beer. The news was covering a traffic accident, involving a motorcyclist. 

"Yea dad, he's been trying his hardest too all day, he's got standing down. Dee's been teaching him, it's been great to see." 

"..." John Winchester was no fool and it was easy to see where his daughter was going with this topic. With a sigh, he turned to me and turned down the tv. 

"You know what I do. I have to protect you, you three are all I have left." He said, slightly sympathetic. 

"Don't go tomorrow. There's a park down the road, take us there. Please dad!" I whined, trying to keep quiet. I didn't know how else to explain myself, that we need him here. That I need him here, and how hard we were living. 

"Go to bed Violet. You're getting cranky. Now." As if the discussion was over and done with. I huffed, which got a glare out of him. 

"Violet…" Dad threatened.

"Yes, dad." And with that, I got up and curled myself up under the covers of my crappy uneven bed. In most situations, dad would try and get a room with two beds and a pull out couch, so Dee and Sammy could share, I could get my own bed, and he'd take the couch. 

--

The next day, after all was said and done, I took a peek at my dad as I fell asleep. He was smiling, writing in his journal on the couch. We were all tuckered out, piled up on the same bed into a power nap. Today Sammy finally walked, towards his big brother (but my little brother), and fell on his face. I hoped that maybe our conversation helped, changed dad for the better. 

I wish everyday was like today. I thought, finally letting sleep and the comforting presence of my brothers lull me to sleep. 

--

Anyways thanks for reading if you got this far. I plan on writing more better stuff, with some actual plot and direction. This turned into more John and reader insert interaction than intended, but I guess that's a given since she takes on the role of eldest now?

[poisonivysparks]

Runners, Teleporters, and Mermaids, Oh My! {Kurt Wagner X Reader X Peter Maximoff}

My hair floated in the murky, blue water, dancing around me in the most beautiful way. Suddenly, a hand tapped the top of the water, I quickly opened my eyes and swam up to the surface, my mermaid-like tail propelling me forwards in a split second. The lake was long and looked more like a river rather than a lake, but the water did not flow.

As my head broke the surface of the water, I noticed it was Hank, a lanky, nerdy teacher who worked and lived at the Xavier mansion. My hair was stuck to my forehead and my skin was soft from the water. My turtle, Mizūmi, followed me like lost a little puppy. Her name meant lake, and I loved

"Hey, Hank." I smiled at him, setting my crossed arms on the land. "What's up?"

"Your swim class starts in about an hour, so be ready." He told me, crouching down to my level.

"Thank you, just please make sure everybody's in proper swimwear." I flapped my tail on the surface, a bit of water splashing on Hank.

"Hey! I still have to teach some classes, here." He got back up, wiping off his glasses.

"Alright! I'll see you later." I waved and plunged back into the water, my arms helping me skim the surface.

Teens were hanging out with their friends, laughing and smiling. I sat on the grass, sighing. I wished that I could be up there, walking, but the only thing I could really do, socially, was, well, not very much. Everyday, but only for a brief amount of time, I would get up into my wheelchair and go to a class or two, everybody just gave me dirty looks and ignored me.

I hadn't bothered to go up today, I just stayed in my Atlantis-esque home I had built for myself. It was small, but quite cozy at the bottom of the deep lake.

I sat there for a while, until a sudden 'whoosh' told me exactly who I would see sitting next to me. "Hey, Y/n." Peter said with a smirk, putting his hand on my shoulder. I quickly brushed it off and smiled at him.

"Shouldn't you be putting on your swimsuit?" I pushed his arm playfully, laughing.

"Nah, I can do it in a flash, and I wanted to talk to you." He said, while I pulled my knees, well, where my knees would be, up to my bikini-clad chest.

"I would've never thought somebody would want to talk to me, of all people." I chuckled quietly, spreading water across my scales.

"I'm surprised that nobody talks to you, you're one of the most interesting people I know." He mumbled in that oh-so-cute way of his.

"The only other people who talk to me are Hank and Kurt, everybody else just gives me these dirty looks." I told him, starting to push myself back into the lake.

"Why are you trying to leave me so soon?" He whined, grabbing my hand.

"People are starting to arrive, Peter, go get fucking dressed." I laughed, pushing myself fully into the lake.

"Alright." He groaned, getting up from his dusty spot in the dirt. He quickly zoomed off, and was back in a flash, but with everybody else instead of just with me.

"I hope I am not late." Kurt's accented voice filled my ears as he bamfed in front of me, he was wearing black swim trunks that suited him really well, bringing out his eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, he was always a little embarrassed about his looks, even though he had an incredibly toned body. He kept his eyes on my face, and only my face, which was slightly creepy.

"You're actually early, Kurt." I smiled at him, waving everybody over to me.

"Thanks, I was really worried. I would not want to miss one of my best friend's classes." He smiled, his amber eyes shining brightly.

"Thank you, Kurt, I really appreciate it." I flapped my tail down on the water, splashing the people who were already in the water.

I went over the rules and re-explained the basics of how to swim, they started with a warm up. They eagerly got into the deeper water and I wordlessly helped their posture from below the surface. Peter and Kurt were doing the best, I didn't have to help them whatsoever. Mizūmi surprisingly didn't try to attack anybody or make friends.

I went up to the surface, my hair completely drenched. "You two are doing really well, are you sure this is only your 3rd time swimming?"

"Yes!" Kurt said, slightly breathless.

"Yeah, I was kind of afraid of water before." Peter said, not breathless at all.

"That's alright, Pete." I smiled at him as Kurt's face turned slightly sour.

"Uh, thanks." He said as I plunged back into the water, helping the students who had bad posture.

When the class had ended, only Kurt had stayed with me, the others walking away, wet and tired.

"I really like your classes." He said, putting his arms across his chest.

"I-I... Thank you, Kurt." I stuttered, not knowing what to say.

"You're welcome." He smiled, sitting next to me on the wet grass.

"Okay, this has been bothering me, why are you so ashamed of yourself?" I asked, resting my chin on my hands.

"I-I-I just don't like the way I look, I'm so different from everybody." He explained, making me frown.

"You should love the way you look, Kurt. It's unique, and that's a good thing. I mean, I'm the person who should be ashamed of myself, I'm half fucking fish, for God's sake! I haven't walked since I was 13! While you, you have an acrobat's body and it's okay that you're blue and have a tail, it's unique and beautiful."

He suddenly hugged me, taking me by surprise. "You always find a way to make me feel good about myself, Y/n. Even if you put yourself down at the same time."

I hugged back, "I seem to be pretty good at that, both putting myself down and making people feel good about themselves." I laughed, letting go of him.

"I still do not think that you should put yourself down, just to cheer people up, though." He frowned as I held his hand, going into the water.

"Well, that's what I do. Come with me, please, I want to show you something." I smiled comfortingly at him as he looked warily at me, but coming into the water anyways.

"What are you going to show me?" He asked, confused.

"I can't tell you." I booped his nose. "Not very many people know about this, so, please, don't tell anybody." He nodded, and I brought his head underneath the water, quickly forming an air bubble so he could breathe.

"Woah!" He exclaimed, clinging onto me for support."Is that your home?" He pointed to my house, and I nodded, smiling brightly.

The little adventure didn't go much farther than that, only a bit of swimming around and playing with Mizūmi. I had to give him up when he realized that he had almost missed dinner and that it was dark.

"Hey, Kurt!" I called to him as he was about to bamf away. "Can you please get Mr. McCoy or somebody to help me into my wheelchair?"

"I can help you." He said, smiling as he dried himself off.

"Are you sure? I'm kind of heavy." I asked him, not sure if he'd be able to lift me.

"I am sure I can get you into a wheelchair, Y/n." He smiled, grabbing my folded chair that was beside the lake.

"Kurt, I am 250 pounds of dead weight, because of my stupid tail." I laughed, coming towards the edge of the lake.

"I can carry you, my liebchen." He said as I hoisted myself up on the grass. I had no idea what liebchen meant, but it spread a weird, warm feeling in my chest.

I gave him my arms and he lifted me up rather easily into the chair. "Thank you." I told him, goosebumps forming on my skin from the cold, night's air.

"Are you cold?" He asked me as I nodded, trying to cover up my skin.

"A blanket or a shirt would be nice." I smiled up at him, hoping that maybe he would get them for me.

"Alright, I'll go get them for you." He smiled and quickly bamfed away.

Peter zoomed in once Kurt was gone, "You joining us for dinner tonight?" He asked, the same cocky smirk on his handsomely childish face.

"I guess so." I smiled at him. "Kurt's currently getting me a blanket and maybe a shirt, because it's fucking cold out here at night." His face slightly dropped when I mentioned Kurt, '

'Is there something going on between them?' I thought, rolling away from the lake.

Kurt bamfed beside me, a shirt and a cozy looking blanket in his three fingered hands. I graciously took the shirt, and put it on, it was fairly big and the sleeves went down to my elbows.

He was giving me the blanket when he noticed Peter standing to the side, watching everything that was happening.

I made sure that every part of my upper body was covered in the fluffy blanket, and that nothing would get caught in my wheels.

The two boys stared at each other as if waiting for the other to say something.

I broke the silence by saying, "Are we going to get food, or are you two just going to stare at each other?" They both looked at me as I laughed. "And could somebody push me to the mansion? It's cold and uphill, and I don't feel like pushing myself."

Peter was instantly behind me, and Kurt looked kind of bummed out.

"Please don't use your powers, Pete." I said as he chuckled at my words.

"No promises." He smiled and started pushing me up the hill while Kurt followed us like a lost puppy. "Damn you're heavy." He groaned as I laughed at his struggle.

"Why don't you let Kurt do it? He's strong." Kurt's face lit up, and Peter's became slightly sour at my words.

"But I want to do it..." He frowned, bringing out his cute puppy eyes.

"Fine, just try to go a little faster." I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, the wind was starting to pick up.

"Now that I can do." He smiled and sped up, making me regret what I had said.

"Oh, fuck." I muttered under my breath, I shouldn't have trusted him.

He quickly pushed me up the hill as Kurt struggled to keep up, bamfing everywhere. My hair was completely messed up, because of Peter.

We walked to the cafeteria, where Hank looked happy to see me.

"Y/n! I didn't think you would be up today. Who helped you out of the lake?" He asked, coming over to us.

"Um, Kurt did, actually." I smiled, rolling myself closer to him. "He's surprisingly strong."

"Well, he must be strong if he can lift you up into that chair." Hank smiled back at me while Kurt sat down at an empty table, purple-faced.

"Yeah." I rolled myself next to Kurt, pushing the chair to the side. Peter sat down on the other side of me, looking a little bitter.

We all ate together, laughing and joking with each other, Peter and Kurt still seemed a little mad at each other, for whatever reason.

"Well, guys, I'm going to go back home, my tail's starting to dry out." I told them, starting to roll out of the cafeteria.

"I can teleport you there!" Kurt said, grabbing my arm.

"Sure, Kurt, and you can take your blanket and shirt back." I smiled at him, taking his hand.

"Alright." He smiled and we bamfed away, the few seconds between places was dark and cold, shadows dancing around us and it felt like I was floating.

"Holy shit, Kurt!" I said as we landed, about a yard away from the water. "That was amazing!"

"Uhm, th-thank you." He said, his, now purple, face almost glowing in the dim light from the mansion.

"Here you go." I handed him the blanket and started taking off the shirt, he squeaked a little bit as I pulled it over my head.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" He asked, putting the blanket and the shirt on the ground, avoiding all forms of eye contact.

"Well, how else am I supposed to get out of this chair?" I giggled, putting my arms up.

He surprised me by grabbing me behind my back and where my knees would be. "Should I drop you in the water or put you on ze ground?" He asked, picking me up.

"Can you please put me on the edge of the water? I can swim in the water by myself." I smiled at him while he put me down.

"I'll see you tomorrow, mein Liebchen." He said, walking away, he looked absolutely adorable.

"I-I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt." I told him, pushing myself into the lake.

I spent the night sleeping with Mizūmi occasionally waking me up to play.

Once the sun rose, somebody woke me up by quickly kicking the water.

I swam up to the surface, very, very, annoyed, but the feeling of annoyance went away when I saw a flash of silver hair.

"Peter! It's dawn! What the fuck!" I yelled at him, but still smiling.

"I missed youuuu..." He said while I hoisted my upper body on top of the grass, where he was kneeling.

"Well, you could've waited until classes started." I put my arms right under my chest to hold myself up.

He looked down at me. "Hey, my eyes are up here, buddy." I laughed and his face turned red from being caught.

"I was just looking at the beautiful view." He smirked, and it was my turn to be embarrassed.

"Shut up." I slapped his arm playfully. "It's rude to stare at a girl's chest, y'know." I fully hoisted myself onto the ledge. A little self-conscious about myself, I covered up my chest with crossed arms.

"I know, it's just fun doing it." He chuckled, taking his shoes off and rolling his pant legs up.

"So, what did you come here to talk to me about?" I asked him, playfully splashing him while he skimmed his feet on top of the water.

"I was thinking, and I have a bet for you." He smirked cockily, splashing me back as I nodded. "I bet that I could run across this lake faster than you can swim."

"Ha! I doubt it, you fucking pussy." I teased him while he looked offended.

"I am not a pussy, okay." He pouted, sticking his lower lip out.

"You wanna bet?" I laughed, getting back into the lake.

"You're fucking on." He said, getting into his running stance.

"Ready! Set! Go!" I said and we raced off, him going way faster than me at first, but he started to slow down, making him fall.

"Y/N! What the fuck is under me!?" He asked, panic evident in his eyes. I swam over to him and noticed Mizūmi swimming below him.

"This is Mizūmi, my pet turtle. Everybody knows about her, how do you not know about her?" I asked, confused. Mizūmi nudged him lovingly in the chest, making him jerk away from her and cling to me.

"I-I was late to the first class. Is this thing friendly?" He asked as I laughed.

"Only if I tell her to, but she seems to really like you." I smiled as he started petting her leathery head, giving her an awkward smile.

"Aww, she's a sweetiepie." He said, letting go of my side.

"I know, she's my pride and joy." I smiled softly at him, he looked cute with completely drenched hair and bonding with a turtle.

"She's beautiful." He said to no one in particular.

"I know, Mizūmi's one of a kind." I said, while he turned to look at me.

"Who said I was talking about her?" He smiled at me as my face turned a light shade of pink.

"S-shouldn't you be in class?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Shit, I should be." He said, getting out of the lake and running around to dry off.

"I'll see you at swim class!" I yelled at him as he waved at me, still a little wet.

~Time Skip~

I didn't have to explain any of the rules to them during swim class, Peter was late again and Kurt was right on time, smiling, but still only looking at my face.

They all got in the water, they were improving greatly and Peter was showing off, swimming with Mizūmi and being a lot faster than everybody, besides me.

Kurt was trying his hardest, swimming with such passion and fervor.

"Holy shit, Kurt!" I smiled at him as he smiled weakly back at me. "You're doing AMAZING!"

“Th-thank you." He breathed, hopping on top of the ledge, taking a swig of his water bottle, and standing up.

"No problem." I hopped up on top of the ledge with him, suddenly yelling out, "Alright! Everybody out! You all did wonderful!"

They all hopped out, drying off and leaving, but only one person stayed.

~KURT ENDING~

Kurt still stood there as everybody left, his hair still soaked from the lake.

"You're buff as hell, y'know that, right?" I told him, smiling slightly as his face turned purple. "Ahh, you're cute." His face turned to a look of confusion.

"That do you mean that I'm cute?" He asked, tilting his head like an adorable puppy and sitting down next to me.

"You're adorable, and you make me happy." I fully smiled at him, kissing his cheek.

"I make you h-happy?" He asked, his face almost completely purple.

"Well, yeah, I love how you talk to me every day, and how hard you work while trying to get better at swimming. You're so passionate about everything you do and you're surprisingly strong." I ranted, splashing a tiny bit of water on myself.

"Well, you are kind, an amazing person, even though nobody talks to you, and you make me feel good about myself. I love how you have a tail and are so different from everybody, I still can't believe that you haven't walked in six years! It's amazing. I don't get how you can be so happy when you can't walk." He said, moving a little closer to me as I put my head on his shoulder.

"Kurt, you make me happy, you're the reason why I'm not sad all the time." I told him as we faced each other.

"How do I make you happy?" He asked as our faces got closer, our breaths colliding, my anxiety was sky-high, my heart racing.

"I dunno, I just love the way you make me feel inside." I told him, my tail going slightly above the water, our lips were only centimeters apart, my s/c forehead resting against his blue one.

He collided his lips with mine, I moved my soft lips with his chapped ones, it was complete and utter bliss. His hand moved up to my face, where he caressed my cheek and moved a stray piece of hair away from my face.

His other hand was on my long tail, his slender one wrapping around my waist. We both pulled apart, completely out of breath.

"First kiss?" I asked, he held my face closely to his.

"Yeah." He breathed out, his beautiful amber eyes boring into my e/c ones.

~Peter's PoV~

I stood at the top of the hill, watching at Y/n kissed Kurt. My heart felt broken, I was always too damn late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~PETER ENDING~

Peter was the only person who had stayed, Kurt had bamfed away to God-knows-where.

"So, whatcha got goin' on tonight, sweetcheeks?" He asked, smirking and sitting next to me, his feet barely hovering over the water.

"I was thinking that I could go and have dinner with you guys again." I smiled at him

"Do you want me to grab your wheelchair?" He asked, getting up as I nodded and he

"Hey Pete, do you know how to braid hair?" I suddenly asked, taking a piece of my h/l hair and holding it out.

"Yeah, I have a younger sister, why do you ask? Do you want me to braid your hair?" He asked, sitting behind me.

"Please do it! I've never had my hair braided before." I looked back at him, smiling.

"Alright, but you gotta stay still, or else it's going to look weird." He laughed and started tugging at my hair, weirdly twisting it for a few minutes, until calling out. "Finished!" He smiled as I looked at my reflection in the lake.

"Holy shit, this looks amazing, Peter! How did you do it?" I asked, amazed at his handiwork.

"I learned it from my mom, maybe I could teach you how to do it, sometime." He said, smiling and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I would love that, Peter!" I gave him a slightly awkward side hug, my cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Do you want me to grab your wheelchair, Cutie?" He asked, getting up.

"Um, I was thinking, could you carry me? Just for fun." I asked, giving him a slight smile.

"Yeah, I could do that." He smiled as I put my whole tail on top of the grass.

"Pick me up!" I made grabby hands at him, while he smiled and picked me up bridal style, putting his arms under my back and under my tail. He lifted me up and I smiled, I could hear his rapid heartbeat pounding against his chest. "Your heartbeat is way too fast." I told him happily.

"I know." He smiled cockily, holding me a little closer.

"Are we gonna walk around, or what?" I asked him.

"Hold your damn horses, fish girl." He smiled and started walking.

"Don't call me that!" I pouted, crossing my arms.

"What? Fish girl?" He asked, walking somewhere that I hadn't been before.

"Yeah." I continued pouting. "Where are we going anyways?"

"The garden." He said simply, walking towards a nice looking garden with a maze and lots of flowers.

"Woah." I breathed as he sat down on a stone bench, I was now sitting on his lap. "It's beautiful."

"I know you're beautiful." He said, my cheeks turning red.

"Oh, shut up, Peter." I told him, resting my head on his chest.

"But I don't wanna!" He said, moving his face closer to mine.

"Well, you're gonna have to soon." I told him, inching my face close to him.

"What do you mea-!" I cut him off by smashing my lips into his.

He was surprised at first, unmoving and stiff, but once he realized what was happening, he moved his lips with mine. My hands were tangled in his hair and his hands were resting at my hips.

He pulled away, smiling. "Huh, I never knew a fish could kiss."

Masterlist

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Link to my masterlist for earlier chapters or other stuff I've written

His Queen

Part 3

Bri ripped open the letter, amazed it was handwritten and in cursive! Knowing Roman, he had an assistant write it, but she felt a warmth in her chest knowing he’d truly loved her all along.

To My Queen, Briana Godfrey,

(Admit it! That sounds way better than Tucker, have the lawyers change it.)

Oh, and before I get into it, I wrote this myself. No assistants, so fuck you for thinking it.

Bri smiled a sad smile at how they still knew how the other thought.

I have to start off by saying thank you for reading this letter. That means you're at the white tower. I don't deserve you. I've turned into everything I never wanted to become. Everything you made me believe I could escape. You are the light to my darkness and I'm so sorry I disappointed you. I don’t have a lot of time, but I needed a plan in case I fail. You’re the only person I trust with my company, my money, my daughter, my legacy, my heart, all of it. I am an absolute crack head level blood addict, and I couldn’t trust myself when we got overly emotional to keep my head. Because I love you so much, you can make me so upset, and That last fight we got into, I scared myself. I don’t blame you for slapping me, but to hold back from returning the blow, I literally broke my own hand... but this is not what this letter is about.

Peter and my sick half-sister Annie have stolen my daughter. Peter is hell-bent on destroying me because he killed Destiny's trash fiance, and lied about it, so she blamed me and attacked me and I hurt her bad enough to foresee issues with peter, so I broke her neck to avoid problems figuring it was showing her some mercy since she was heartbroken. Annie was there and when I refused to carry on an incestuous relationship with her, she turned on me and told Peter about Destiny. So he came after me and fucking shot me, we fought and I won, but didn't cut his head off so I knew he’d be fine. Well, he calls me and has my kid and won't turn her over, and says he's going to kill me so even though I doubt it, Nadia needs someone to raise her, and if I'm killed it's not my whore of a sister Annie. I need you to find Nadia and take her home and raise her as she deserves. She’s such a sweet baby and she adores you.

Find Shelley and she can help you maybe. She’s in love with this weird old poet and chooses to live at the old steel mill. Calls it Rooster Poop. Can’t make this shit up.

The entire security team is trying to find Nadia, so contact them and see where they’re at with it.

you are the love of my life and I refused to ever say so, even though we both knew it was true. I would bullshit and say it’s cuz I was saving you from myself, but I’m not that fucking noble. You scared me more than anything ever scared me in my life. God, it's great to admit I love you. Like I need to make up a new word for how I feel for you cuz love isn’t strong enough.

there’s a pretty poem I saw that reminded me of you;

I’d still choose you.

In a hundred lifetimes,

in a hundred worlds,

in any version of reality,

I’d find you and I’d choose you.

Even though I knew you were going to break my heart again and again.

I’d still choose you.

It’s crazy how happy I am writing you a letter, even with every aspect of my life in shambles, you’re my light.

You get everything. Fuck all of them. You were right about everything. If I survive this shit, I am winning you back if it takes 100 years and I have to spend every cent. This is literally a reset.

I tried to forget your baby girl but I never could. No amount of drugs, money, blood, or bullshit could ever distract me from the constant ache in my heart for only you. You’re the only pussy I ever wanna see again. I ran thru a fantastic amount of pussy after you left and none of them made me forget you for even a moment. I pictured you or I could not get off. It was pathetic. I hope I get to see you again and rip up this fucking letter.

I looked back over this and there’s a reason I have other people write shit up for me. A few requests to seriously consider:

-->Blitzky should take over for Pryce. Not only is he a genius, he's a good guy. He's a bit soft, so you may have to be the bad guy.

-->Get a new nanny. The current one looks good on paper but she's an idiot.

--> Live in the white tower. It's secure and safe and you can make as many floors as you like home.

--> if an animal killed me, it's Peter and he's still a wolf. He’ll be white. Kill him, cut off his head and burn him up in the incinerator.

--> if Annie comes around at all, kill her. She's very manupulative and acts religious and nice. She's crazy and not to be trusted.

-->try and convince Shelley to live in the mansion and have her little homeless community there. She doesn't care about money but she cares about people, so offer it as a safe haven. Make sure it stays stocked in necessities like toilet paper, soap, cleaning materials, etc and write it all off as a charity contribution. Make the whole endeavor a big tax write off, but don't tell Shelley that part. Just tell her it was my dying wish she had a home.

--> the loser she's with has legal problems. Have the legal department solve them so he's got no reason to desert her.

-->if Peters mom comes sniffing around, don't tell her a damn thing. I doubt she will tho, she's a wanted fugitive.

--> don't trust any gypsies.

--> Nadia is very intelligent. She can read minds, influence dreams, and kill anyone or anything just by looking at them. She's dangerous and shouldn't be allowed around animals or people until she can understand the concept of death and consequences. There's no way to control her, I have found.

--> I promised a homeless man I ate that id pay for his sons school. Anonymously pay for Mathew Shandwicks classes, books and dorm at Penn State for all 4 years. His father traded his life without a single complaint so it's imperative you keep my word.

-->make sure Nadia isn't a spoiled brat like me. Teach her about her mother and her father and all the good things about us. Leave out we were related if you can swing it. Just say we were young and loved each other very much. I enclosed a pack of photos of me and Letha for her.

I wonder what you’re wearing... That reminds me; if I’m really dead, you have to be in mourning at least two years. That means all black suits and dresses that cover you up, black nails, big black hats like you just left a Catalina Yacht Mixer or you’re going to a royal wedding. I even got you black lab coats just in case.Don’t half ass this. It’s important.

Also I want “Fuck you” by the Archives played at my funeral, if it comes to that.

Hopefully, you never see this letter because I got everything fixed here, and went and found you and you ran into my arms and we lived happily ever after, and I have a whole lifetime with you... But just in case...

All my love,

Roman Godfrey

P.s. - since you're a genius, hopefully you can fix me or bring me back. I hope you still love me even 10% as much as I love you, because then nothing can stop us.

Brianna stared at the page as her tears fell on it swirling the ink in designs and spirals. She knew he’d always loved her, but it was bittersweet seeing him finally admit it. She took the photos out of the envelope and looked through them.

Looking through the pictures was heart-wrenching. There had to be a way to fix all this! She tried to remember everything she’d learned about Upirs from that dreadful Russian women and Pryce. Luckily they’d been a bit of an obsession for her that she delved into when Roman pulled his shit. Being obsessed with Upirs had distracted her from obsessing over the real issue.

Just as she started to wonder when Mueller and Edwards would be back, as if by magic, the elevator doors opened. They had brought Dr. Blitzkey with them as well.

“Oh my gosh! You’re alive! I’m so happy to see you’re ok and still here!” Bri said as she ran up and embraced Blitzky. “Where is Roman? I need to see him.”

Blitzky looked at the ground nervously before meeting your eyes. “It’s not fixable.”

“No matter. I just NEED to see him. Please?” She begged.

“Okay. He has several severe traumatic injuries so please prepare yourself for that.”

“What happened to him?”

“Some Type of animal attacked him in the old mansion and pushed him out the upper story window, fracturing his spine and neck which most likely left him paralyzed and vulnerable. His throat and heart were then ripped out.”

“Peter.” Bri said darkly. He was going to pay for his betrayal. She would make sure of that.

“I mean that’s the most logical conclusion but after all Roman did for that little degenerate, ” Blitzky muttered.

Bri nodded solemnly.

“Hate to interrupt your happy little party but we have several forms that need immediate attention, to get this shit show back on the road,” Edwards interjected.

“They’ll have to wait till after I see Roman. You lead the way Blitzkey, you two stay here.” She said firmly stepping into the elevator with the doctor. Both lawyers looked furious but did as they were told since they were honestly intimidated by this young woman that had all this piled on her, and seemed unfazed.

As soon as the doors closed she sank to her knees and screamed. The tears came flooding out of her eyes as her body was wracked by sobs. It’s like she’d been hit by a truck. The realization that Roman was really gone finally sinking in.

Blitzky didn’t know what he should do. He was a genius, but completely clueless when it came to social and interpersonal skills. He hesitantly patted Bri on the head like a golden retriever, unsure how long was comforting so he just kept doing it. “You’re strong.”

Bri glanced up at Blitzky through her foggy tears and couldn't help but agree. She WAS strong.

The elevator opened to their floor as she looked down at the floor.

“Well” Blitzkey peeped, unsure of what to do, “this is it.”

“We have to fix him Blitzkey. There’s got to be a way.” she said rising to her feet, as if the little display he just witnessed never happened.

“You’re the boss.” Blitzky said as cheerful as he could muster.

“I’m giving you Pryce’s position. I trust you.”

“Thank you! I wasn't sure if maybe you'd want to take charge.... What will you do? Take over for Roman?”

“Until I can bring him back, I guess I’ll have to. I will bring him back Blitzkey.... If I have to make a deal with the Devil himself.” Bri stated adamantly before setting off down the hall like a woman possessed.

[kk095]

Wrong place, wrong time

@beggingforbreathe and I worked on this story together. We hope you like it!

*****

In my experience as an ER doctor, I feel that most trauma cases are the result of poor decision making in some capacity. However, there are people that were simply victims of circumstance and sometimes those are the hardest to take. And now, sitting at my computer as I type in notes for the coroner, I realize I had one of these victims of circumstance today.  It ended up being a particularly difficult case for me.

Patient info:

Name: Madilyn Morris

Date of Birth:  10/17/1979

Description: 38-year-old white female, 5'11, Impossibly fair skinned with a hint of pink in her cheeks, she didn't wear much makeup, but she didn't need it as her skin was clear.  Chocolate brown eyes that were large and fringed with dark lashes. Tall with softer curves that had a slight hourglass shape. Wider hips, naturally large breasts. Dark hair with a touch of white hid by the streaks of honey and purple. Small wrinkles around her mouth and eyes from laughter, and a Celtic moon tattooed on her hip.

Medical Problem: … I stare at the screen remembering.  

It started a little after 12 pm.  Normally, weekday afternoons are totally empty in my emergency department so I take a lunch break between 12 and 1. However, my lunch break was cut off rather quickly.  My pager went off, telling me that EMS was on the way with a critical patient. Calling the desk, all they could tell me was “female, late 30s, multiple gsw’s.” With a sigh, I thought a few things: First . . . who gets shot on a weekday afternoon?  Second . . . how serious was this case? Were these gunshot wounds going to be flesh wounds or was she going to be basically dead on arrival? I hoped for the best but mentally prepared for the worst.

I left the hospital cafeteria and quickly started ordering my nurses and residents around. “Ok, let’s get trauma 1 ready. Let’s get blood, FFP, an intubation kit, a chest tube tray, a thoracotomy tray, and a crash cart. I wanna make sure we’re prepared for EVERYTHING! And call the OR and make sure there’s an OR ready for us just in case.”

My staff members hurried around the emergency department as they geared up, prepared the trauma room, and got the supplies I felt we needed. “what’s our ETA?” I asked. One of the nurses replied, “ETA is 5 minutes.”   I nodded and went into trauma room 1 and put my gown, gloves, and face visor on. The room was eerily quiet in those few minutes, you could probably hear a pin drop. Little did I know, that was the calm before the storm.

When the ambulance and patient arrived, the trauma team and I were bombarded with a wall of sound. The ambulance’s sirens were very loud, running at the highest level possible and were followed by all the commotion that ensued as they ran the gurney in.   The paramedics wheeled our patient in and said “38-year-old female, 1 gsw to the left chest, 1 to the upper left abdomen, and 1 grazing wound to the left calf. Hypotensive, tachycardic, probable hypovolemic shock, altered mental status…”

“Seriously?” she coughed and swallowed hard.  “Altered mental status? I just got shot! Wanna trade places and see how your mental status is?” she said weakly with very sharp brown eyes glaring at the man as she intervened in my conversation.  She was a feisty one, probably running off adrenaline, but that worked in my favor.

“Alright, ma’am, can you tell me your name?” I asked as she was transferred to the table carefully.

“Madilyn. My students call me Mrs. Morris.” She answered with a sigh.

“So you’re a teacher?” I asked, trying to make conversation to put her at ease and hopefully gather potentially vital information. “What do you teach?”

“High school English.”  She’s a little short of breath as she responds.  “Today, the death scene in Romeo and Juliet. Fitting huh?”  Her eyes blink closed for a few seconds as I almost miss the grimace and the slight way she scrunches her toes.  She is in some pain, but I am reluctant to give her anything that might dull her senses right now. “Really living the dream, aren’t I?” she replied a bit sarcastically, but I could tell there was humor under the sarcasm and the corner of her mouth turned up showing off the little laugh lines at the corner.  This was a woman who seemed to have no regrets.

“Can you tell me what happened, Madilyn? I know you got shot, but is there anything you can tell me beyond that?” I asked.  I really just wanted to keep her talking. If she was talking, it can’t be that serious. I wanted it to not be serious.

“I was just getting my class settled …  we had a fire drill.” Her sentences are short, broken, but to the point.   “I heard some noise in the hallway … yelling and cussing. I knew the voice so I stepped out into the hall.  He was shoving the guard and trying to take his gun. He tackled the guy, almost had the gun and the guard warned him that he was going to shot.  He was so strong . . . the boy just grabbed his arm and tried to wrestle the gun free. Somewhere in there, the guard pulled the trigger. He hit me… I don’t think he even knew I was in the hall.”

“So you were at the wrong place at the wrong time,” I reply as people work around her and I quietly observe.  “Can you tell me the name of the boy or the security guard?”

“I can’t,” she sighs.  I remember that names are protected information and nod.  “He’s fairly new, autistic. He has some challenging behaviors.  He doesn’t like noise and I didn’t see his headphones. The alarms probably upset him. He saw me after … I don’t think he understood.  As for the guard… it was an accident. I don’t want anyone in trouble over this.” I look at her thinking that maybe her mental status is a bit altered.  

“Alright Madilyn, I can’t make any guarantees about them.  We’re gonna focus on you now and make sure you’re ok,” you reply as you touch my bare shoulder trying to be reassuring.  

I removed the blanket that EMS placed over Madilyn's torso. Her chest and abdomen were covered in a decent amount of blood, almost marching the burgundy bra and panty set she was wearing. “Ok, I want a chest x-ray, a chest and abdominal ultrasound, and let’s hang o-neg and FFP from the rapid infuser,” I ordered.

“It hurts,” she finally breaks down looking at me.  Her brown eyes were starting to show it now as I notice the thin sheen of tears.  The adrenaline protecting her was definitely fading. “Could you do something for the pain?” She didn’t shout.  She didn’t scream, but her jaw was locked and her toes were curled tight now. Her fingers were wound tight around the sheets.   

“Alright,” you agree wishing you could be reluctant but knowing you can’t.  “Let’s push a round of morphine,” I said, realizing that Madilyn was in pain, despite her tough, sarcastic persona.

We removed her bra and panties along with the backboard, c-collar, and head stabilizer and turned Madilyn onto her side to locate exit wounds. It was a pretty quick initial assessment: 3 entry wounds, 3 exit wounds. Now the next question was: what structures were injured? Madilyn was awake, talking and seemed “fine” despite the circumstances.  Her stats, however, suggested substantial blood loss. “Let’s get that chest x-ray and the ultrasounds,” I ordered.

“Madilyn, how’s your breathing?” I asked concerned.  The morphine had started to kick in and her body was much more relaxed.

“Fine,” she sighed.  But I ’m cold. The room might be spinning.  Is this worse than I think it is?” she asked as her eyes closed.

“We don't know just yet but we’re gonna get to the bottom of this, Ok?” I said back to her.  “How’s that blood coming?” you say knowing that they need to keep the supply going. You look up, but it’s full and dripping into her arm.  

The chest x-ray didn’t really show anything significant. However, both ultrasounds concerned me greatly. The chest ultrasound showed pericardial effusion and the abdominal ultrasound showed evidence of a large bleed but the source was unknown. My main concerns were the spleen or the abdominal aorta as the source of the bleeding. At that point, I decided to get a consult from our trauma surgeon about our next step. Madilyn seemed adequately stable so I figured I’d hand her off to surgery and be done with the case . . . or so I thought.

One minute she seemed fine, the next she started to deteriorate rapidly. Her blood pressure started to tank and she started spitting up blood.  Madilyn was scared at that point. Her bravado was totally gone. She looked at me while shivering and asked “am I gonna die?” while more blood entered her mouth as she coughed.

“We're gonna get a surgeon down here. I just need you to stay with me, ok?” I asked her while looking into her brown eyes.  I grabbed her hand and squeezed it for a second before knowing I needed to get back to work. The second I let go, it was as if she suddenly fell asleep. The monitors displayed ventricular fibrillation.

“Damn it! Where’s that surgical consult?!” I shouted as one of the nurses started pumping away at madilyn's chest.  Her large, natural breasts bounced around during each individual compression as the sound of the defibrillator paddles charging could be heard in the background. “Ok, everyone clear!” I shouted as the defibrillator paddles were placed onto the woman's bare chest. Her body arched slightly and crashed back onto the table as the shock went through her body. “No change! Push a round of epi and recharge the paddles.” I ordered while the nurse resumed deep, violent chest compressions. An Ambu bag was placed over her nose and mouth so air could be forced in. “I don't think she’s moving any air, we need suction!” Shouted the nurse that was in charge of bagging. Once blood was suctioned out of the woman's mouth, another shock was delivered. Madilyn's size 10 feet flew into the air and slammed down quickly, showing off a few prominent wrinkles in the soles of her feet. The monitors showed an idioventricular rhythm. She’d slipped into the grey area between asystole and v-fib; it’s not a shockable rhythm so all we could do is get blood into her, push meds, and keep doing CPR.

After another round of epinephrine and 2 and a half more minutes of uneventful CPR, I decided that we should intubate her. As her chest was being continuously pounded, I watched as the resident with me grabbed the silver scope and opened her mouth wide with gloved hands.  A plastic tube was inserted into her airway and held in place with tape. “Tube's in,” said the resident that did the intubation. An Ambu bag was attached to the tube and ventilation was resumed. I placed my stethoscope on her chest just to make sure we had good breath sounds.  They’d done a great job. Air moved through her lungs.

The nurse that was performing CPR started to get tired so I swapped out with them, wanting to keep the best possible flow of blood going. I placed the heel of my hand on the center of Madilyn’s chest, kept my arm straight, interlocked my fingers over her heart, and pushed down hard and fast without bending my elbows. I could feel Madilyn’s fading body heat against my palms as I heard one of her ribs snap like a twig. I heard a muted cracking sound with each individual compression after that.

Another 3 minutes went by as my arms grew tired and my muscles ached. We pushed 2 more rounds of epi along with a round of atropine, and then angiotensin 2. Unfortunately, she was still in this idioventricular rhythm. I started to feel extremely fatigued since I was pumping the beautiful woman’s chest with maximum effort.  If ever I wanted someone to pull through, this was it . . . she didn’t need to die, not under these circumstances. I looked down at her face. If it wasn’t for the ET tube hanging out of her mouth, I would’ve thought she was asleep.

“Come on Madilyn! Come back to us! I wanna hear you make another smart alec remark, ok?!” I shouted at her as if I was convincing her not to die. “You can do it.  Stay with us.” I was starting to get short of breath from this effort, even with the break in between as we constantly switched places.

CPR went on to no avail for another 2 minutes. At that point, I had to make some changes to the code because what we were doing obviously wasn’t working. Her pupils were sluggish but still reactive so she wasn’t dead just yet.

“Get me the thoracotomy tray! We gotta open her up now!” I shouted, hoping that my desperate attempt would bring Madilyn back.

I swapped out of doing CPR so I could perform the thoracotomy. A nurse squirted betadine on the left side of Madilyn's chest. I picked up the 10 blade off of the thoracotomy tray as someone lifted her arm for me. I made an incision in her 5th intercostal space starting at her sternum and ending at the mid-axillary line, near her left armpit. After the incision, I used blunt forceps to cut through the muscle, connective tissue, and fat to expose the space between her ribs. Once the cutting and snipping were done, I placed a finochietto rib spreader into the incision site and quickly began turning the knobs. Madilyn’s chest was still being pumped as a cracking, popping sound filled the room as I forced the teacher's chest open.

Once she was open, I reached into her chest and started feeling around to see what was injured. “Damn. There’s a large hole on the anterior and posterior side of the left ventricle. I need suction!” I shouted as a nurse suctioned out blood from the patient's chest cavity.  The chest X-Ray had not shown this. Maybe it was the low blood volume at the start. Whatever the reason, I’d had no reason to think it was this bad. I might have cracked her chest open sooner if I had.

I quickly tried to patch up the two wounds as one of the residents started internal cardiac massage. Her heart was barely quivering at this point.  I stitched up the wounds quickly to try and limit the damage; it was simply a temporary fix. After that, I took over internal compressions as the final round of epi was pushed. To my surprise, Madilyn converted to a shockable rhythm. I suddenly felt her heart squirm around in my hands as I forced the damaged organ to pump effectively. “Ok, someone charge the internal paddles,” I ordered as I pumped madilyn’s heart manually. “Come on Madilyn, don't do this!” I said to myself. I’m not in the habit of showing any such emotion to the staff around me.  Most people think I’m cold.

Seconds later, the internal paddles were charged and ready for use. I grabbed the large, spoon-shaped paddles and placed them into her chest, delivering a shock to her exposed, twitching heart. A dull, wet thump was heard as her body jolted slightly. “No change, resuming compressions!” I shouted as the internal paddles were being recharged. Madilyn’s heart squirmed around in my hands again as I forced it to pump. “come on…come on!” I said to myself while looking intensely at the heart monitor.

“Paddles are ready, Doctor,” one of the residents said holding them out to me. I grabbed the internal paddles, placed them onto Madilyn’s quivering heart, and shocked her again. Her body twitched and her toes scrunched as the electricity ran through her lifeless body.

“No pulse.  She’s still in V-Fib.” Said one of the residents. The sounded a little defeated.

“Resuming internal compressions.  Charge the paddles again,” I ordered the resident. I massaged Madilyn’s heart for several seconds as the sound of the internal paddles charging could be heard behind me. Once the paddles were ready, I placed them back into Madilyn's chest cavity and delivered another shock. Her arms flailed subtly and her breasts jiggled.  I plunged my hand back into her chest to feel her heart. The monitors displayed no change whatsoever as her lungs fluttered around my hand as they pushed air into her from the bag. Pulling my hand out, I immediately shocked Madilyn again and got the exact same result.

“She’s still in v-fib. Charge again!” I shouted refusing to give up on this woman’s heart.  One of the residents checked Madilyn’s pupils as I massaged her heart and the sound of the internal paddles charging was heard throughout the room.

“Doctor,” she said gently as I worked compressing her dying heart.  It was as if she could sense I didn’t want to hear what came next. Maybe she could.  “Doctor, her pupils are fixed and dilated….” Said the nurse in a defeated tone. “She’s gone.”

I paused for a moment, still holding her heart in my hands as the paddles were held out for me. The room became eerily silent during this pause. Madilyn was still in V-Fib but she was gone. I looked over at the clock and said “time of death, 13:04.”

Everyone around me looked like they felt the same way I did.  The monitors were slowly shut off as the Ambu bag was detached from the ET tube and the patient laid motionless on the bed. They placed the internal paddles back on the crash cart as I looked down at Madilyn's body as the nurses slowly removed EKG electrodes. I wanted to reach in and keep her going, but I knew I couldn’t.  Madilyn's heart twitched for a few more seconds as the nurses removed the last of the electrodes from her bruised, and bloody chest. Her body was deathly pale, her lips were pale, and she was a bit cold to the touch.

I removed my trauma gown and visor, which were covered in madilyn’s blood.  The door to the trauma room swung open as an admitting nurse walked in on the scene unfolding.  I can hear her sigh when she realized what was happening. “Her husband just arrived.” Her body was still bare on the table as people started to remove equipment.  

“Okay.  I will be out in a few minutes.  Just let me….” Let me what. Nothing was going to make this easy on him if he wanted to see her.  But I could make it at least easier. Normally I wouldn’t even bother. I reached down and began to undo the rib spreaders, turning the knobs back until I was able to pull them out.  Most people were trickling out of the room because they were needed elsewhere. I probably was too, but I couldn’t leave her like this.

“Do you need help?” she asked kindly.  

“Let’s clean her up,” I said quietly.  “I don’t want him to have to see her like this.”  She nodded at me as she moved to pull the tube between Madison’s pale blue lips before she got the stuff to clean the blood off of her chest and abdomen while I slowly closed the emergency thoracotomy I had done trying to save her life.  It didn’t take long to have her looking pale, but at least not like she’d died in such a tragic, violent way. I watched as the nurse got the cover for her body. I took it from her and placed it over Madilyn’s pale, lifeless body. Only her feet were left exposed. Lastly, I took the toe tag and placed it on the big toe of her left foot. The tag dangled in front of her prominent wrinkled soles as the nurse walked out of the room.

“I’m sorry, Madilyn,” I said quietly to her on the table and the empty room.  I knew I had tried. But I felt extremely defeated by this case. It’s hard when it goes like this….  when she was awake and alert when she came to my ER. She was a strong woman with a likable personality and she was much too young to be under this sheet right now.  And she’d died doing a job that’s supposed to be “safe.” It all left an unsettling feeling in my stomach. Especially now as I type out the notes for the coroner which will end my involvement in the case, but I’m pretty sure I know what they will say, she died from hypovolemic shock secondary to comorbid injuries to the left ventricular combined with a splenic laceration from the second bullet.  It still doesn’t make it any easier to write up though.

[lore-a-lie]

Chapter 3, Act 10: The Inmate’s Sonatine

CLASS TRIAL- IN SESSION

Again the students filed out of the elevator and made their way to their podiums. But as Kaede looked around the mockery of a courtroom, she saw that the memorials of the fallen were different this time.

Ryoma’s wasn’t that different, aside from technically not being held at his true height. Much like during the actual trials it was made at the level he participated at, minus the box he’d have to stand on for it. And seeing that cross over his monochrome face stung her all the more with how impersonal his was compared to other students. Just a harsh blocky x, not a trace of his talent or personality to it.

(As if his death was one set from the very beginning, no need to make it at all unique.)

The second alter made it look like their fates being set in stone was unlikely, though. Particularly as it was present on a podium that was still occupied.

BehindHero’s head there was another colorless photo, at the same level of his own regardless of any height differences the siblings were meant to have had. But from what she could see of it, that was Kiyo's photo rather than an image of his sister from his motive video. And it wasn’t because he was blocking anyone’s view of it, despite how seeing it made him tremble like a fragile branch lost in a hurricane.

Instead of being vandalized in red, there was an orange question mark rather than a cross like the others. And while the Kiyo of the portrait’s mask was still on, the dot of the symbol completely covered where his mouth would be while the upper curve hid both eyes from view. Probably to allude to his “sister’s” most overt differences from him, despite having no image of her own to present for the court.

And Kokichi wasn’t about to let them go through another lousy explanation for a process they’d suffered through four times previous after being presented with an oddity like that.

“Jeez Louise, you kids sure like being confusing, dontcha? At least I don’t have to deal with my bumbling brats failing to keep up anymore. I really oughta thank you all for making such an exe-cute-tion possible, don’t I?” Monokuma scratched at his head before exposing his claws like a threat as he fumed. “But speaking of “.exe” you just had to go playing with toys that don’t belong to you! Serves you right for trying to avoid your schoolwork! Kids your age should know better than to waste all day playing video games-”

“Says the robot bear forcing them to play games or die,” Kokichi stated, arms behind his head like he hadn’t a care in the world while his eyes told a much angrier story.

“It gets you all up, active, and social, don’t it? Don’t lump my wonderful killing game in with your newfangled time wasters, mine can teach you real-world skills! Think of it more as a... social culling.”

“Culling would indicate such deaths were natural, doesn’t it? That’s hardly fitting,” Kiyo pointed out.

“Who asked you?!” Monokuma snapped. “Just because I “should” be thanking you for disciplining my uppity upstarts doesn’t mean I’m not still furrrious about you acting all high and mighty, trying to play my system to waste some of my valuable murder victims! Why don’t you just drop dead already?!”

And with Monokuma so distracted Kokichi saw his chance to get to the point. “Speaking of, why don’t we cut to the chase? What’s that question mark about?”

“What are you asking me for?” The bear innocently asked with a tilt of his head. “You’re the ones that kept acting like someone died during one of your little VR chats. But without a body, how am I supposed to believe you? So I improvised! It’s important for all victims, real or imagined, to be present when justice is served!” He nodded his little head and lounged in his throne.

But as he got comfortable a light flashed over his head. “Hey, wait. Speaking of tricking your dear headmaster and judge, you’re trying to make me forget to lay down the rules, aren’t you!” He shouted, puffs of smoke rising from his ears.

“Come on, we’ve been through this already enough, haven't we!? We know what to do. So let’s just jump into it!” Kaito argued.

“Hey! Even if you say that, what do you know? Refreshers don’t hurt-”

“Mastermindsaysyeah”

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME OR I’ll HOLD YOU IN CONTEMPT!”

“Well that “didn’t hurt” either, now did it?” Kokichi asked in his sweetest of tones with a bat of his eyes. &I'm not annoying you, am I?~&

“What would “contempt” even mean for this?” Tsumugi asked, though largely to herself.

“Whatever it is, it’s either deadly or redundant so best not to push it. We’ve all beaten Monokuma to having &contempt& for this kid,” Tenko stage-whispered to her behind her hand. 

“HEY!”

“WHATEVER!” Monokuma roared with a sense of finality. “Any useful questions since you’re all so eager to get on to the main event?”

“Is there anything actually stopping me from going over and strangling the first person to seriously accuse me of murdering my own sister?” Korekiyo asked, hand raised as though they were in school.

“... Ya know, I hadn’t considered that. You’re all normally so prim and proper about everything it’s never really come up before. I wish ya woulda told me if you were planning some Jerry Springer shenanigans, then I could’ve brought my mondo butter to have with some popcorn as you kids went at it! But you know stabbing would probably be easier to do uninterrupted.”

“Alas, I haven’t been allowed to touch anything sharper than a pen in quite a while, and even that’s only because its stabbing ability is so often underrated.”

“... And the fact this is how you try to convince us to not accuse our resident evil psychopath of being a part of yet another double murder makes a pretty good case to take those away from you too,” Kokichi snarked, but since Kiyo had adjusted best he could to the cruel reminder behind him he managed to keep a stoic facade despite the jabs.

“You’re free to say what you will about me in regards to Ryoma’s untimely end, but I assure you I wasn’t responsible for either of these tragedies this time. Certainly not Hers...”

“Ow, you made that pun on purpose didn’t you? B-but what was that he said about butter-” Kaede heard Tsumugi complain before Kibo cut her off.

“Don’t encourage them Tsumugi, we need to focus! First, we need to clarify if this is actually a set of two murders or not. Kiyo’s still here after all, so not only can we not prove his “sister” is dead but when she was killed may not matter for whoever is the blackened we need to find.”

“Sure we can, she’s been dead this entire time! Being here at all is supposed to be enough “proof” of that, right Kiyo? Assuming she ever existed outside of his head in the first place.”

“Please stop that Kokichi, you know what I mean! Kiyo being involved with Shinguji’s death seems unlikely, provided the damage assumedly done to her avatar could have negatively affected her,” Kibo scolded, but seeing he only got raspberried in reply the bot shrugged and looked to Kaito beseechingly.

“Can we just call her a normal name for now? If she’s not here to bitch about it what’s the harm?” The astronaut offered, and explained his reasoning before the bot got too disheartened at being seemingly ignored. “It’ll be easier to focus if we’re not stuck worrying over what to call one of our possible victims, yeah?”

“If you must,” Kiyo answered with a sigh as he shook his head at such a minor gripe.

“YEEES!” Kokichi cheered, eagerly hopping on his platform using the railing for support. “Okay, so who’s the guy we need to thank for finally offing Cersei before she could go all wildfire on us?”

“... From the Odyssey? Odd theme, given how Angie’s addressed her by the birth name of Persephone. Though She hardly turned men into beasts.”

“Sounds like she certainly enjoyed grooming the ones she could-” Kokichi teased, and finally got the reaction from Kiyo he was looking for as his toothy grin only widened in the face of his fury.

“ YOU HOLD YOUR TONGUE OR I WILL BE SOON ENOUGH! ” ( God damn it, we need to move on! )

“Knock it off you two!” Kaede snapped. After getting their attention she tried to calmly propose a real starting point. “I think we should prioritize Ryoma’s case first. We have more evidence there and she might not even count as a victim or be related to this at all.”

“Are you sure you’re not just being biased?” Tenko questioned with a scowl. “Neither case has that much for us to work with. At least with Circe we can rely on more testimonies to add something useful. We know she never left the simulation, and the virtual world isn’t that big. Someone must have seen or heard something!”

“How do we even know for sure that was her body? At least we know Ryoma’s dead, and we know if we get his case wrong we’ll all be dying for it!” Kaito yelled, slamming a fist on his desk. Which he quickly regretted judging from his wince and how he flexed his hand afterward.

“Of course it was her avatar by the river, if it wasn’t hers whose could it have been?!” Kibo argued back.

That’s a good question. But at the same time there was evidence it might not be her original avatar, wasn’t there?

It’s one of the few pieces of evidence for this case that we do have, with how Monokuma rushed us. Could it be a hint that what we found in the virtual world is all we need?

That would explain why Ryoma’s cause of death is unknown, if we don’t really need a murder weapon.

But we need to take this one step at a time. If we rush ahead we could slip up.

And if we do that’ll be the end of us.

“Why are you asking that, Kibo? Weren’t you the one who made it possible for us to change between avatars? How exactly does that work?” Kaede asked him, as she hadn’t been able to before.

“Oh. I mean, it’s pretty simple. You enter the wardrobe, it brings up the list of all of the avatars I’ve made, and among those not currently being used you can select one. Obviously, trading avatars will add your previous one to the list of options, I just wanted to avoid another case like when Kiyo and his sister had identical forms. It’d just make things really confusing.”

Kokichi was quick to see where she was going with this. “And how many avatars don’t we use anymore? Is there an accurate Keeboy option?”

“Well, let’s see… There’s no other version of me, I didn’t see any reason to.” Kibo started and counted along with his fingers as he went on. “Kiyo has three variants, his original, the haircut, and the “gender flip”. Angie has two, the latter with adjustments to how it senses the cold since I had troubles with just updating her original. And Tenko has two, she asked me to make a duplicate of hers so she and Ryoma could test the wardrobe while I was still tweaking it. So that’s three unused sprites in addition to the 10 of us and Kiyo’s sister.”

“Yup! I actually got Ryoma to play twinsies with me!” Tenko said with a smile before her face fell. “It was nice of him... Miss Shinguji was willing to do it too of course! Gonta just thought it’d be a bit too risky so that was a no-go. So Ryoma offered since Angie said she was too busy trying to cheer up the weirdo.”

“I did not! Atua thought it was a bad idea!” Angie objected and puffed her cheeks. “So what if I was having fun?”

“Also you were practically buried in Christmas supplies at the time,” Kiyo added nonchalantly.

“I could have gotten her out!”

“Unlikely. Not unless you would be willing to work with me to get her out of that mess, you would fare no better than my efforts were.”

“Angie wasn’t stuck! There was a lot of fun stuff in there, once you tipped the boxes over,” Angie insisted.

“You weren’t supposed to do that!” Kibo complained. “I set them up like that for your own safety.”

“We’re getting sidetracked!” Tsumugi interrupted. “Was Angie playing in the decorations before or after the walk along the river?” (That’s still losing the point of Kokichi’s question though!)

“Before, getting her out of that mess so Kibo wouldn’t get stressed out by the havoc she had wrought was one of Ryoma’s stated objectives.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh! And Ryoma leaving Kiyo alone to try and mess up my beautiful interactive art piece was weird! Very weird!” Angie eagerly nodded. (So that’s what she meant by he was acting funny. He hasn’t trusted Kiyo as far as he could throw him since the last trial. Did he get over that? When? Why?)

“That… Is not the way I’d describe it.” Tenko stated with a wary look on her face as she poked her fingers together.

“That’s because Tenko has terrible taste!” Angie beamed, while Tenko and Kiyo traded similarly exhausted looks in what might have been their most civil and casual interaction to date.

“Okay, well, at least that helps give us some sort of timeline. But we’re losing the point of Kokichi’s question!” Kaede reiterated, “And we do have evidence that the body we found wasn’t Cersei's avatar.”

“What?! But there was no one else it could be-” Kibo tried to argue.

“Kokichi found Kiyo’s mask and gloves in one of the avatar’s pockets! Unless you mean to tell us that was part of how you designed her, Kibo, I think that counts.”

“Also she was flat as a board!” Kokichi gleefully added, hoping to ruffle feathers.

“I can’t tell if you’re a brave man or a dead one for saying that right in front of a girl’s brother. Or lover,” Tsumugi joked, as she warily eyed the man next to her.

Said man was left looking rather confused. “It’s hardly like he confessed to feeling her up or something. It’s merely a statement of fact, and is a simple observation which does add weight to Kaede’s theory.”

Even if that’s true, why is he so calm about that? Besides, he should know better than anyone if his sister is still around or not! I mean she has no reason to use his avatar. They’re so similar there’d be no point.

Not unless… It wasn’t his sister. And if that was Kiyo’s avatar, who was using it?

This is Kiyo we’re talking to, isn’t it?! They couldn’t have switched! He can’t be dead, not yet!

I know it was his voice I heard when he spoke in the sim, not her’s. So he has to be fine! Doesn’t he?

Why does him dying bother me so much anyway? Is it just because he’s the lesser of two evils?

It doesn’t matter. Not yet at least. I can’t go zoning out right now. Not until we’re all safe.

“So, Kibo? Is that proof enough for you?”

“I… Yes. But when could she have gotten access to the wardrobe?!”

“It’s okay, Kibo, let’s just take things one step at a time. Hell, maybe it wasn’t even her,” Kaito offered.

“If it wasn’t Kiyo sister who could it be? Can Ah-vu-tars be left lying around, like clothes?”

“Well, I didn’t think that they could,” Kibo said with a troubled expression, “They always disappear when a person logs out. But with how unresponsive she was I don’t see how else to explain it.”

“Then maybe we should focus on something else for now,” Kaede suggested. “Did anything weird happen with any of you? Or Angie, you said you were with Kiyo most of the time, did he and Cersei get some time to themselves or something like that?”

The question made Angie look uncomfortable, as she kept nervously looking to Kiyo. But he completely froze up.

“Kiyo? Did something happen?” Kaede pressed.

“I… Nothing of note.”

“Come on, out with it! There’s no point in lying,” Kaito urged.

“Are… Are you sure the person we thought was my sister in the simulation, wasn’t?” he only asked.

“No one would know who your sister was or wasn’t better than you, right?” Tsumugi asked.

“Were you the one that killed her?” Tenko accused. “We all saw you try to hit her earlier, did she say something else to set you over the edge-”

“It was nothing like that!” Kiyo snapped. “I don’t know what came over her, I was alone on the bridge and suddenly she just-” he cut himself off as he clutched at himself again.

“She just what?”

“She… Was still upset by my earlier… “weakness.” She expressed an interest in seeing if there might be a different means of accomplishing my objective.” Kiyo quietly muttered, gripping his arms tighter the more he went on.

“So… She attacked you?” Kaito asked, trying to put together the dots.

“If I had a life I was willing to give she made it clear she would be more than happy to take it off my hands.” He conceded, but it sounded like Kiyo couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Wait, so she tried to kill you?! And you just kept quiet about it!?” Kokichi shouted.

“As opposed to what? It was hardly anything more extreme than what she’s asked of me before.” Kiyo cooly stated, but his eyes looked distant. Glossed over, almost broken in a way, not that unlike how he looked when she first saw him that morning. “If my spirit could die in the realm Kibo made without ending my body, she was hoping that she could take it over in my stead. Without the need to share.”

“What the fuck?!” Kaito sputtered.

But out of everyone who looked equally shocked and appalled by what Kiyo was saying, and the almost matter of fact way he said it, there was one who barely batted a lash.

“Did you know something about this, Tenko?” Kaede asked. “Were you trying to help her do this?”

“Wh-what gives you that idea?” She sputtered. “I mean come on, I know me and Miss Shinguji are getting kinda close, but I’ve never been able to really talk to her alone! So how could I be involved with anything like that?”

Tenko did have a point, but a look around the room showed Kaede that despite being her strongest witness Angie seemed troubled and unconvinced.

So there might be a contradiction here. I better find it.

“You don’t seem too shocked about her wanting her brother dead.” Kaede shrugged, but tried to keep her voice level and non-aggressive. “Since you were the one to offer the wardrobe to Kibo, I’m wondering if she had something to do with that. Like if she was hoping a feature like that could let her freeze Kiyo like the rest of the female avatars do, to make it so he couldn’t fight back.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” Tenko irritably asked. “His sister said she never actually wanted him to kill anyone, so if we were left with only one of them she’d obviously be the better choice! But that doesn’t mean I have anything to do with that, I had no chance-”

“Is that what she talked to you about when Angie was talking to Kaito?” Angie’s voice cut in like a knife, and made Tenko stop cold. Taking her friend’s ashamed silence as her answer, Angie explained. “Kore used that argument during one of our talks, Kaito was with us but Tenko didn’t want him spying.”

“Of course she didn’t,” Kokichi shook his head with a sigh. “Gawd Tenko, I wasn’t expecting you to really be that stupid.”

“HEY! I am not, and that doesn’t prove anythin-”

“Then why did you want me to make you a second avatar?” Kibo asked, though his tone sounded hurt. “You asked me about how the Shinguji siblings’ limiting would work with avatar switches too…”

“What the hell, Kibo why didn’t you mention that sooner!?” Kaito spoke up.

“I-it was a good question! And Tenko had expressed an interest in dressing up like her friends before so I thought it wasn’t that unusual at the time. With Ryoma there, I didn’t think there would be any problems.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Kibo stared down at his feet. And Kaede asked the question she didn’t want the answer to.

“Tenko, was Ryoma aware of what you were doing?”

Tenko slouched and swayed herself in her stand as the class waited for an answer.

“Yeah… He caught me talking to Cerci about it when Kibo was distracted. But he didn’t think it was a bad idea or anything! I mean… If there was no body left behind, there wouldn’t need to be a trial, right?” She went on as she fidgeted, body language being more than enough to show her conscience wasn’t so clear as she wanted to make it sound. “That’s why we have that question mark now, right?! So Kirumi would get the justice she deserves, Cerci would be free, and Kiyo wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again!”

“And that’s why you thought the body in the river was Kiyo’s… But wait, does that mean it was Kiyo!?” Tsumugi thought aloud, and all eyes turned to the Shinguji who was still with them, hoping for answers.

“Of course it wasn’t!” Angie insisted, “We never went near the wardrobe, and Kiyo never stopped having short hair! If only one of them is with us then I swear on Atua’s name-”

&If you were with him the entire time, when did that attack on the bridge happen-&

“Does it really matter, if none of you honestly believe you can tell the difference?” They cut Kaito off as they held their hand up as though to cover their mouth. And as he did Kaede caught what it meant.

There’s no reason for him to do that while he’s already wearing his mask, unless it had to do with his sister. Either “Kiyo’s” overcompensating so Shinguji can hide her face while being the only one in there, or she’s fighting with the real Kiyo for control of his body and he’s still winning.

Between the two the latter sounds more plausible, but that wouldn’t explain why he won’t let her out. Even if she attacked him before she can’t do anything out here right? Or is he hiding a witness from us?

Should I try to get him to lose focus so she can tell us directly, or could this be for our own good?

As she looked to the others while weighing her options her gaze met Kaito’s, and he seemed to be having similar suspicions. And if it was Kaito doing the talking, if Kiyo’s sister was in there in any way, she wouldn’t be able to resist lashing out. So Kaede gave him her nod of approval.

“Why should it matter if Kiyo’s Sissy side is out of the picture anyway? Ryoma was real, and we know she wasn’t, so why bother?” he arrogantly said as his chosen taunt. And with the way Kiyo’s right hand spasmed before he physically took hold of it to calm “himself” down they had all the proof they needed.

Kokichi’s forced dry laugher cut them off from making sure everyone else was aware of their discovery. “You better be just stealing Angie’s earlier joke, Kaito. Because if not, you’re getting short-sheeted tonight, and things will only be getting worse for you from there buster.”

“WHAT?! What I say? And how do you expect to manage that, huh?”

“I can pick locks genius, the only one safe from night-pranks is Kiyo!” Kokichi bragged with a dark aura. And past experience led Kaede to assume he had worse in store for Kaito as he went on. “Because unlike Gonta and Ryoma, I can’t get his stupid door open anymore. I don’t have the strength or momentum to move those stupid boxes Gonta barricaded it with. Speaking of, if Gonta wasn’t able to get Kiyo this morning and Ryoma didn’t check on him, how could you get through, Kaito? Sure was lucky you did, considering what he was up to, riiiight?”

Oh. Oh no. He doesn’t seriously think Kaito would kill Ryoma for whatever happened earlier, does he?! Obviously he wouldn’t! He was angry, sure, and even if Ryoma… If Ryoma really did leave Kiyo there to die, that wouldn’t be something to kill him over! Not that I’ll ever be able to ask him about it now…

Jeez, does he really think Kaito would have gone to the effort of trying to get Ryoma breathing again if he had been the one to attack him? Where could the other two witnesses have come from if he did?!

But should I use that truth to make that obvious, even if he’s only putting Kaito on the spot to see if the real killer takes the bait, or let it stand for now? Could lying be to our benefit here? It has before.

… Maybe I should fib a little just to see where this goes. Kokichi might know what he’s doing, and we don’t need to bring up Shinguji’s survival right away. We all saw that reaction just now.

“Can you really say it was lucky?” Kaede asked, and only felt a little bad about the resigned but pained nod Kiyo gave at that as he clenched his eyes shut while Kaito nearly gave himself whiplash at the perceived betrayal. “You really are full of it sometimes Kokichi, you know Kaito’s been doing nightly training sessions. Why wouldn’t he be able to move some stupid boxes out of the way? He didn’t even need my help to do it.” She went on, and hiding his failing health did seem to put Kaito marginally more at ease.

“Besides, it was like noon when we went to get him, wasn’t it? If Gonta couldn’t get him closer to 10, and Ryoma had no reason to bother, what’s there to suspect?” Kaito followed her up, to strengthen her lie. “Why the fuck would I ever want Ryoma dead?! He hasn’t done anything wrong since we woke up here!”

And the only other person who might have known what had happened between Ryoma and Kiyo that morning spoke up as she had hoped.

“Why Kaede lie? You blinking like butterfly trying to take off. Why?” Gonta asked, and apparently Kaede’s partial goal differed from Kokichi’s, given how the boy rolled his eyes at his lessons being put to work.

“What are you talking about Gonta, what could I be lying about?” she bluffed, trying to relax her expression as much as she could to keep any more tells from throwing her off too soon to make her point. “You got to the cafeteria with Kokichi long before we had any idea where Ryoma was, so what’s there to doubt? Going with Kokichi assuming someone moved the barricade before Kaito, if Ryoma visited Kiyo before we did he probably did it right before he got to the cafe himself, wouldn’t he?”

“... So Kaede lie ‘cause Gonta lie?” Gonta asked, looking rather ashamed and hurt by his assessment.

“When did you lie? You had been with Kokichi all morning, haven’t you?” Kaede pressed again, and this time Kokichi was less bored by the direction things were heading.

“Ah. No. Kokichi not there when Gonta check on Kiyo, but Ryoma was already talking to him. It rude to interrupt, so Gonta wait outside until Ryoma finish arguing. Ryoma say Kiyo not in mood to see people, and that Kiyo ask him to drop his audition tablet in dining hall, so Gonta let him be and Ryoma went on ahead before taking a walk to calm down. Gonta no mind ‘cause it gave more time to go over motive with Kokichi! And also practice with lie catching.”

“Oh? So you just left him there because Ryoma told you too? That’s pretty fishy. What exactly was this “argument” about, Kiyo?” Kokichi asked Kiyo, though his eyes kept wandering back to Kaito.

“Nothing worth killing over.” He tersely replied, his right side still acting up on occasion. When it became clear that wouldn’t cut it he continued with a sigh and shrugged. “He wanted to see my audition. To see if the other me was “like his was”.”

Kiyo’s mask quirked like a bitter smirk, but he refused to make eye contact with anyone. “When he saw I wasn’t fit for visitors he had a few choice words to say about the nature of karma. Particularly given that if my memories are reliable, even though I killed less than him, I might have deserved his punishment far more. And yet, by virtue of but a single year, had I been caught the death penalty would have been impossible for me. The dubious benefits of still being a “minor” in the eyes of humanity’s fickle laws.”

“However, Ryoma didn’t fully close my door behind him when he left my life up to the fates. Kaito and Kaede knew that all too well.” He corrected Kaede’s lie at last. “Had Gonta claimed my door was unsealed when they left that would be true, but only because from what I heard he was equally sure the threat I had presented towards our feminine companions before had passed with recent revelations.” He side-eyed Gonta as well. “So if Ryoma’s actions been “wrong”, would Gonta’s be any better?”

“That sounds like a motive to kill to me!” Tenko snapped.

“Nonsense. As far as I’m concerned both were merely respecting my wishes at the time. Unless you seriously believe there is anyone here that would desire retribution on my behalf?” Kiyo countered, “Aside from someone who may have had their own self-interest in mind with such an act, of course.”

“And why should we rule her out?” Kibo asked.

“Because how could she move Ryoma’s body, silly?” Angie replied while pulling a face. “Atua and I never let Kiyo out of our sight, so without him Kore couldn’t have left the simulation! If he died after leaving it can’t be her, and if he somehow died inside of it Kore would have needed an accomplice to help hide it.”

“Besides, if she killed Ryoma, why would Kiyo’s old avatar be there? The only reason we thought she was involved was because we mistook it for her’s.” Kaito agreed.

“So… Kaito saying Kiyo die, and this Kiyo is fake?” Gonta asked after visibly struggling to keep up since the idea of swapping avatars came up.

“I don’t know. Maybe? This is pretty confusing, huh?” Tsumugi laughed at her own difficulty to help put Gonta more at ease. “Maybe explaining it all again in smaller chunks would help clear things up?”

“Nah, we can get back to that later. Even if the body isn’t Kiyo’s or his sister’s, her wanting Kiyo dead could be important.-”

“It’s not about wanting me dead! She’s just scared of what would happen if she experienced dying again!”

But despite his anger towards Kaito, Kiyo didn’t look like he believed a word of his own excuses for her. He was practically turning blue, and grasping at straws like a drowning man seeking a lifeline in order to find any conclusion aside from the obvious. As if the betrayal would hurt less if it was on his own terms.

Like her trying to kill him at all wasn’t proof enough that she doesn’t care about him anymore. At least he’s not trying to blame it on Tenko “corrupting” her or something.

“But why would little-big-sister attacking mini-Kiyo change anything? If that not her body in river, she no die right?” Gonta asked again.

“Not necessarily, but that is a possibility!” Kibo brightly nodded at him, “I mean it fits Monokuma’s reluctance in regards to treating her as a dead student.”

“You don’t need to keep babying him,” Kokichi spoke up, killing Kibo’s attempt to help Gonta feel useful. “Gonta doesn’t need to keep caught up if thinking like this is too hard for him right now. We’re timed here! We can just explain everything right before we vote, and help him understand later.”

“No, it’s better for him to struggle and come to his understanding on his own terms,” Kiyo firmly objected. “There’s nothing gained by simply spoon-feeding him a sequence of events he’ll have little choice but to agree with. His input could help be the difference between life and death for all you know.”

“It’ll be our death if slowing down for him chews up too much of our time! If he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it. It happens, and we don’t need to make him feel guilty over it,” Kokichi argued.

“I hardly think that’s fair to say, considering our dear Gonta’s been clever enough that not one of you noticed he’s been prepared to kill me since he first caught wind of a possible murder in the simulation.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Kaito yelled, but Kiyo didn’t so much as bat an eye with how matter of fact he was being.

“What!?” Kaede shrieked in near unison. “Wait. Gonta, was that why you were waiting in the salon?! You told us you were just guarding the phone because Kibo told you to!”

“Huh? Why would I need him to do something like that?! What are they talking about Gonta!?”

“I dare say that rests my case. Wouldn’t you, Gonta?” Kiyo asked Gonta with what could have been guilt in his eyes. That same strange glimmer in them that he had when confronting Kaito about his disease.

Gonta looked ashamed, as he stared at the floor of his podium. Like he couldn’t bring himself to face his friends. But to build up nerve he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and gave Kaede the quickest of remorseful smiles before answering.

“Yes, Gonta was. Gonta need to protect friends. Gonta thought, if Kiyo survive killing Kirumi, then Gonta survive killing Kiyo if friend die. Either Gonta survive with friends so no threats left, or Gonta die for failing to protect friends from Kiyo. That how “You Break It, You Bought It” rule work, right?”

“GONTA?!” Kokichi screamed at him, looking absolutely betrayed and heartbroken. Kaede could swear the pain she saw was genuine, and with the way Gonta flinched at his reaction she knew she was right. “Were you trying to leave when we got there just so you could make sure Kiyo was physically dead!?”

“You can’t be serious, right Gonta?” Tenko asked, before furiously turning to face Kokichi instead. “YOU, you put him up to this, didn’t you?! I knew it! You hate murder enough to not dirty your own hands, but not someone else’s, right? That’s what a leader does, you delegate-”

“NO. ” Gonta’s voice growled, as the horrible sound of wood cracking filled the courtroom. With his hands flat on the desk area of his stand, it sounded like he scratched deep into its surface in frustration. “This Gonta plan. Kokichi no want to hurt people. Gonta promise to protect friends, so this how Gonta do that! Gentlemen need to take full responsibility for their own actions. And no one else’s.”

Gonta paused for a breath again before taking a deep respectful bow before the class. “Gonta sorry he hurt friends by keeping plan secret. Kiyo not supposed to know about it. Gonta sorry he not be as open as…” He took a ragged breath for a moment. “As Ryoma. Gonta sorry he fail Ryoma. But…” As he paused again he stood straight up and looked Kiyo dead in the eye. “Gonta not sorry about wanting Kiyo dead.”

Kiyo only nodded his own agreement of sorts, “Good, you have no reason to be. On the contrary, I think it was rather astute of you.”

“I… I don’t agree with your plan, but I agree that it proves you’re smart. It’s smart to plan ahead and defend others. But you didn’t need to prove it to us!” Kaito firmly stressed, but his face fell as he went on. “Or you shouldn’t have felt you had to, and you shouldn’t have felt you had to hurt someone for us. I’m happy you didn’t have to.”

“Happy Gonta no get chance you mean. I know Kiyo’s sick, sick with the other Kiyo. Seen parasites like it in bugs.” Gonta said, mostly to himself as if to justify his own idea. “Ants know what to do if worker infected by Cordyceps or similar fungi that take control of ant body. Worker thrown out of colony to protect everyone else. ‘Cause it not an ant anymore. Fungus controls the body, ant mind no matter.”

Kaede couldn’t shake how cold she felt, as she helplessly watched the sweet boy beside her talk like this. But she desperately hoped talking some sense into him would help. “That’s not the sort of sickness we’re dealing with Gonta, I swear! We don’t need to do anything like that and you definitely don’t need to kill anyone for us! It’s not like with bugs, if he gets outside there are people who could help him get better.”

“Do we really want him to?” Tenko bitterly asked.

“It doesn’t matter what we want, it isn’t right to kill him!” Kibo snapped at her, taking her by surprise. “He’s one of us, like it or not. We know he’s not our enemy, so would you stop treating him like one?”

“Yup-yup, Kiyo’s not the one who put us here.” Angie agreed, which took more wind out of Tenko’s sails. “Besides, Atua’s not fond of that sort of reasoning anyway. He’s lost a lotta prophets before Angie ‘cause He forgot to support them when times got tough and His people lost faith and turned on ‘em like that.”

“He’s not our victim either, and if his sister isn’t actually dead that means we have another suspect here. So can we just try to figure out what happened to Ryoma?” Kaede urged.

“But Kore couldn’t have moved Ryoma’s body-” Angie firmly repeated, but the frustration in her voice betrayed her ever-present smile.

“Then maybe someone else moved it!” Kokichi offered up as a new angle of approach. “Or she used Kiyo’s spare body during the crime, ditched it to frame Kiyo, and however she managed to ditch it got her back to the salon so she could log them both out.”

“But he didn’t-”

“And why the hell should we believe you!?” he angrily snapped at her, to which she had little response. But his gaze kept bouncing between him, Kibo, Kiyo, and Tenko as she struggled to find words.

“Why shouldn’t we trust her?! What reason does Angie of all people have to help a man like him!? Yeah, she’s been nicer to him today, but that’s not ‘cause she wanted to!” Tenko spoke up in her stead, seeing Angie’s hesitation. But that only infuriated Kokichi more.

“What sort of reasoning is that?! Why should we all bet our lives on one person telling the truth? Both Angie and Kiyo could be lying, or the sneaky son of a bitch might have tricked her and she’s too proud to admit it!”

“But what would be the point of framing Kiyo? If we voted for him instead of her, why should it matter?” Kaito asked. “They share a body! Either both of them escape or neither of them do, right?”

“Oooh, that is a pickle, ain’t it? I mean, I’d like to think it matters.” Monokuma teased as the twisted teddy scratched at his chin with a blackened paw.

“What do you mean “you’d like to think”?!” Tsumugi asked in a panic, wringing a lock of hair between her fingers to try and spend some of that nervous energy.

“Welllll, there’s no reason for two “different” people to have the same execution. It’s no skin off my nose if the blackened living means one of the spotless will be forced to live the rest of their lives with guilt.” He chuckled and rubbed at said nose for emphasis. “But the odds sure aren’t looking good for either of them, are they? Pu-hu-hu~”

“Hey! Don’t go jumping to conclusions!” Kibo told their tormentor with an unusual air of confidence. “We have no evidence to doubt Angie’s testimony, so the probability of either sibling’s direct involvement in Ryoma’s death are low.”

“Well, it’s not like we have a better suspect, do we?” Tenko complained.

“That doesn’t mean we should just accuse who seems most convenient!” Kaito shot back.

“It’s not about “convenience”! It’s about not getting us all killed,” Kokichi said. “And if there’s no evidence against it we don’t have a whole lotta other options. Do you really want to roll the dice on a suicide when someone else had to be involved to move his body?”

“No! Ryoma no do that!” Gonta objected with tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “He have no reason to. He had family and friend waiting for him.”

“Besides, who here would do anything like that?!” Tsumugi agreed. Kiyo’s “polite” cough was answer enough to that though, so she backtracked. “ASIDE from Kiyo, since Angie says he couldn’t leave.”

The arguing just kept going on in circles from there, and Monokuma watched them bicker with a mix of joy and pride in the worst of ways. But Kaede stayed out of it and tried to focus on keeping track of the theories and objections being fired across the room.

And as she did she noticed she wasn’t the only one. Kiyo was still fighting with himself to stay as much out of the conversation as he could stand. Angie also held her tongue, but she seemed far more conflicted. So much so that Kaede was sure she knew more than she’d shared.

But if she does, why hasn’t she mentioned it? Is it related to why Kiyo’s refusing to let his sister get involved?

Did something happen during their walk? There is the bridge, maybe she saw the avatar in the river before it got caught on the rocks. Or she saw how it ended up getting in the river.

At least she’s more willing to talk than Kiyo is. God, I hope he’s not keeping his mouth shut just to spite us. But if he is still suicidal this could be a way to keep from dying alone. Or risk being stopped again.

Either way, maybe she just needs a little push to talk about what she knows. Hopefully whatever she has is enough to clear things up so we can get this trial over with.

If it isn’t then we’ll have no choice but to hope whatever “Cersei” has can bring us to the truth. I really don’t want things to come to that. She’s too dangerous for us to trust, and the stakes here are too high.

So here’s hoping Angie or her “Atua” will do the trick.