#declan harp

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

My Alpha Ch. 6

Donations | Send Thoughts Here | My Alpha Series| Chapter 5

(Author Note: Thank you guys for being so patient!! I am transitioning into a new job I got a little carried away with this chapter Lol but I hope y'all love it just as a much! ;) lots happening here! Please leave me a comment on this chapter if you enjoyed it or if you have any feedback at all!! Love you all!!)

That dinner you’d had with Declan was wonderful, you fell asleep with him on the phone that night and the next morning when you got ready for work you couldn't explain how you felt, but it was incredible. You didn’t want to ever be without him again. Coming downstairs you smelled breakfast and coffee, and huffed out a sigh. Things weren’t great with your father; not like that was a secret or anything. But there were things that you were not up for sharing with anyone else. You had a small, secret hope buried deep down inside of you, that maybe Declan was the one. 

The one to take you away from this man, the awful things he had subjected you to in the past, hell, even the things he subjects you to now. You slowly walked into the kitchen in your work uniform, taking a seat at the island your father turned and smiled at you before pouring you a cup of coffee. “How was your night last night? You were fast asleep when I got back from the trip.” he said. 

You looked at your coffee before looking up at him, “it was good. We went to that little place on the corner of Elm, and I had a really wonderful time.” you said softly as he plated your breakfast and placed it on the cloth placemat in front of you. “Good. I guess that Declan isn’t so bad, I��ll need to have a chat with him if he thinks he’s going to date you without my knowledge though.” Arthur said as he turned back around to continue cooking. “Dad, we’ve only gone to dinner once…while I had a good time, who knows if he did.” you said quietly as you pushed your food around on your plate. 

Arthur watched you closely as he sat down beside you with his own plate. “Something wrong hon?” he asked as you shrugged. “I don’t really want to talk about it. I just want to go to work dad.” you said quietly as he turned more toward you. “Y/N, tell me whats wrong right now.” he held an agitated tone in his voice and you finally looked at him. “Honestly? I do not want to go with you tonight after work. I hate it. I hate it so much!” you raised your voice as you got off the stool. “It's wrong and you know it is!” you flinched as he gripped you by the arms and slammed you back against the counter. 

“You know damn good and well how bad your life can be if you keep up this new attitude girlie. I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again, if we didn’t do this, then someone else would! You know I wouldn’t be able to protect you if someone else was in control. Our family has been doing this for centuries! It’s part of our pack! It's part of our ways!” he yelled as you coward down, shaking in fear. Arthur let go of you, moving away to grab his keys. “You can clean up breakfast and get your ass to work.” 

You worked a better part of the day with your mind focusing on the tasks at hand. Cleaning tables, filling waters, taking orders, and chatting up customers like nothing was wrong. You looked up seeing Declan walk in with some of the other construction crew members and smiled as his eyes met yours. He grinned and nodded over to a booth for the guys to sit in while he walked over to the counter where you’d just rounded to place the coffee pot back on its burner.  

You were not sure what you and Declan were, but your heart would jump from your throat, down to your stomach everytime your eyes caught his. You looked at him before glancing at the booth. “You gonna sit here and have your lunch or over there with your friends?” you smiled as he leaned his crossed arms on the counter leaning over on them to be closer to you. “Well, I figured I would come say hello, before we ordered lunch all together.” he smiled as you smiled bashfully. “well…hello there…I’m sorry I fell asleep on the phone last night, and also if I forgot to tell you, I am sorry I fell asleep last night on the phone,” you admitted as you grabbed your pen and pad and walked around the counter.

Declan smiled as his jaw tensed, not having a barrier between the two of you anymore. “Well that’s alright, I didn’t mind,” he smiled as you let out a soft giggle. “well I’m glad, I did have a wonderful time last night,” you admitted looking up at him as he glanced down at you, standing at his full height. “I did too. Why don’t we do it again tonight?” he asked as you both walked over to the booth. Before you could answer, the guys began teasing Declan and talking loudly. You laughed some before you got them all to pay attention and took down their orders. 

The lunch rush kept you busy, so busy in fact you didn’t get to spend any time at all talking to Declan apart from your brief chat when he’d first arrived. You rushed around, serving tables, refilling the crew members drinks, bringing out extra sides and desserts when asked. You’d laugh at their jokes, hearing them tease one another. You’d collected a couple of the checks and started ringing everyone out as the lunch rush died down when Declan came up to the counter. 

“So what do you say? You wanna go out with me tonight?” Declan smiled at you as you wiped down the counter in front of you. “I’m sorry I can't tonight, I have to work.” you said, giving him a sad smile, “But maybe tomorrow night after the pack meeting?” you asked looking up at him. Declan raised an eyebrow, “You sure your father won't march you home?” he asked with a chuckle. “No, I'm going to tell him I'm busy with you.” you said with a smile as you leaned over the counter and pressed a kiss to his cheek softly. 

You grinned up at him as he stood and threw some bills down on the counter. “You know you don’t have to pay for lunch when you come visit me, I take care of it.” you said softly as he raised an eyebrow. “Missy, you better not be paying for my food outta your checks,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. You smiled up at him, looking up under your lashes. “I like taking care of you,” you whispered softly. Declan chuckled and grabbed your hand softly, “I’m sure you do, but I can handle my own.” He smiled down at you. 

“Y/N! Get back to work!” your boss snapped at you as he stuck his head out of his office. You jumped and let go of Declan turning around. “Sorry boss!” you yelped before turning back around. “I gotta go, I’ll call you later okay?” Declan looked over at your boss’s door before he looked down at you and nodded. “Of course, I’ll talk to you later,” he gave you a quick wink and left without another word. 

After your shift at the diner ended, you changed into your jeans, a t-shirt and a heavy coat before heading out to the old barn your father owned. Once you got there, your father stood inside and looked at you as you entered. “Y/N, perfect timing. I need to speak with you about Declan.” he grabbed your arm and pulled you off to the side. “What's going on between the two of you?” he asked as you shrugged, “Nothing, we’re friends dad, he does want to take me out again tomorrow night after the pack meeting and I accepted.” you said as he pushed his lips out. “I want you to stay away from him. He’s an alpha and an outsider. He doesn't know what’s good for you or this pack.” he growled before turning toward the stalls. “Get them ready, tonight's color is blue. NO ONE enters without that color on their wrist. Do you understand me?” he growled as he got in your face. You nodded. “Yes Dad-” “What?” he snapped. “Yes Alpha.” you whimpered and walked over to the stall. You absolutely hated this. But an order was an order and you couldn’t say no to the pack master until you were claimed. 

You pulled open the door, the girls inside were crying already, and you knew that tonight would be a rough one. You took each girl, hosed her down, and then chained her up. You put a different girl in each stall, and waited for your father to come back to approve each one. 

Your father walked through each stall, nodding to each girl. He rearranged some, but kept them mostly the way they were. You walked outside as he followed you. “Been hearing rumors you were locking lips with that Declan at the diner today. That true?” Your father asked as you shook your head, “no, he just comes in for lunch and we talk is all, he's real nice. I’d like to go out to dinner with him again tomorrow night after the pack meeting…” You said softly as you sat down on the stool. Your father walked up to you and trapped you between him and the wall, placing his arms on either side of you. “You listen to me Omega, the only reason you ain’t chained up in there is because you’re my daughter! You know damn good and well I can make anything happen to anyone. You wanna be locked up and used like those whores in there?!” He asked, gripping your throat. “Are you a whore, omega?” He growled as you struggled to breathe, clawing at his hand, shaking your head, you whimpered. “Please,” you gasped as he watched you with dead, cold eyes. “Say. It.” He growled. 

You felt the tears running down your cheeks, the pressure of no air entering your body starting to become too much. “Alpha please.” You felt yourself start to lose consciousness. 

As soon as he released his hand, you gasped for air, falling from your spot, you landed on the cold hard ground coughing violently. A tall figure hid in the trees, watching with dark and narrowed eyes. 

As the damp, cold night air sat in more, you kept your place out by the barn, betas and alphas coming up, giving you cash and the magic word, and bam, they were in. You opened the door to let them through, hearing the screams and cries, the moans, the smells. You swallowed thickly, biting back tears as you returned to your seat. Then, Marcus Phillips walked through the treeline, and his two beta buddies, grinning at you from ear to ear. You looked up at him. “Fee’s $100 bucks tonight, and I need the passcode.” you said as he chuckled. “I wanna know how much for you.” he smirked, leaning closer as you leaned back against the barn. “I'm not part of it, I just man the door.” you tried to get as much distance between the two of you, but Marcus wasn’t having it. 

“Oh yeah? Bet ole’ Pack Master would let me have a special taste.” he gripped your jaw scenting you. You pushed at him trying to get away but he moved his grip to your throat, “Easy Omega, or I might end it now.” he snarled. 

A loud growl ripped through the treeline sending a cold chill down everyone's spine, as Marcus fell to the ground, you were grabbed and swung behind a strong, tall figure. “Back off.” a deep, gravely voice growled out. You stared up at the man in shock. “Who the fuck are you?” Marcus smirked as he looked up. 

You shook behind the familiar alpha, your hands clutching to his warm jacket as he growled. “You’re messin with a member of my pack, back off.” His voice had deepened and his body was shaking slightly with anger. “Look caveman, that there is Pack Masters daughter, he decides who has a go at her. NOT you. So why dont you fuck off and let me get my moneys worth.” he stepped forward until Declan grabbed him by the throat, “Do you need a reminder of how two alphas fighting over one omega usually ends?” he growled, narrowing his eyes. 

Marcus’s eyes widened as he struggled against his hand, Declan threw him down on the ground and stood over him. “I’d say, you lose this one. Go on, before I bring out the old laws.” you stayed close to Declan as the three boys took off through the trees. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying until Declan looked down at you, his features softening as he wrapped you up against his chest inside his jacket. “Come on, you’re coming home with me.” you whimpered and shook your head. “I can’t leave, my father won’t let me…the night isn’t done.” you whispered. Declan looked down at your confusion covering his features before he looked at the barn, the smell and sounds finally hitting him. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck is going on?” You whimpered quietly as he looked from the barn to you, then back to the barn, it took less than a second for him to piece it together. “You’re not staying here. You’re in danger here.” he held you closer to him, the anger radiating from his body as he snarled in the direction of the barn, before he pulled you back through the trees. 

You knew your father would be angry, “I won’t be able to return home,” you whispered quietly as you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. Declan stopped and looked down at you, his features softening as he pulled you into his arms once more. “Shhh, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, you can stay with me, and everything will be fine. I promise, I’m going to fix all of this, no omega should be put through this type of torture.” he kissed your head smoothing your hair as you sobbed into his chest. 

Tag List:

@notebooks-of-nonsense @fdl305 @bval-1 @calimoi @syntheticavenger

[romangoldendream]

give yourself to me

[momoamadness]

More of Declan Harp's 'Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.'

Frontier S02E04 Mutiny

[viking-raider]

I'm watching Frontier. (Finishing it, rather. I started the first season months ago and I just got back to finishing the last two seasons)

Of all the characters we lost over the course of the 3 seasons, Charlie (aka Charleston) was the only one that had me in tears. The letter from his wife utterly broke me, then him asking Harp to be merciful to him. I'm tearing up just thinking about it.

Demetrius Grosse, you deserve an award!

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

PLEASE LORD IM TRYING TO WRITE MY ALPHA!!! WE ARE IN THE CRITICAL CHAPTERS TOO!!!

This is the magic lucky word count. Reblog for creativity juice. It might even work, who knows.

[cheriihoney]

got an ask about more info on my ocs harp and declan ^^ it was a sent a long time ago and now that i have time i decided to answer it! More info on Harp and Declan under the cut

📱 as i said government assigned agent to keep tabs on you on what you do on the internet and stuff. you aren't the first one he was assigned to watch but something about you seems different.

 📱he started this gig because of life circumstances that lead him to take some not so ethical and moral choices, so him taking on this job to watch a cute lil guy like you wouldnt be the worst thing

📱the cash is pretty good, he doesn't do much on the job really as he just watches well you. which definitely beats he's previous active life style where he had to take care of some people

📱now he's looking to settle down and there you were! being all cute for him! atleast that's what he believes because you are so darn cute when you don't realize you're being watched by him

📱harp isn't his real name, that's just his code name. he left his old life behind to start a new one. He doesn't want anyone to know his real name. Despite wanting to be closer to you he would still want some distance between you and him since he's never had anyone to be close to emotionally.

📱His descent to obsession with you is a slow one. Like real slow but undoubtedly its a slow but sure process. He started personally going through your accounts, photos and the like on his off time. Even at some point convincing the boss to let him have access to your webcam more to observe any 'suspicious' activity. not because he wanted to see you more.

📱it's similar to liking someone you just know based from what they post online and ideally harp shouldn't have been obsessed with you but since he has access to everything and anything that pertains to you. he feels he knows you the most - like a husband would :))

📱after he's come to terms that he's obsessed with you he starts craving the domestic life you seem to lead.

📱now he's picturing himself having a domestic life, something he never considered before but now he would love it as long as you were his wife (gender neutral)

💐his first life was set in those isekai manwha versions of europe with all those fancy balls and etiquette. thats when he first fell in love with you.

💐he met you, you got to know one another and eventually fell in love with you

  💐cant say the same for you lol you just thought he was just a really good friend!

💐anyways at any point where hes close to confessing his feelings for you, you would always be out of reach somehow. things like falling in love with another person or dying

💐over the course of a few lives later, his patience grew thin as in each life time you guys were in Declan still never had a chance to be with you himself.

💐he's always told himself to be patient and that eventually his time will come when he gets to be with you fr fr

💐yk he says like a very impatient and exhausted man practically waiting for centuries to finally be with you

💐he doesn't exactly remember each life clearly but he does know you and that he has to be with you no matter the cost

💐used to let fate guide his to lead him to you but now he's reconsidering if he should man handle fate

💐current day Declan is from old money who spares no expense to woo you the minute he found you again

💐just straights up introduces himself as your fiance. Because he wanted to atleast take things slowly, atleast he didn't introduce himself as your husband

💐he rizzes up your parents to atleast let him court you like ye olden days. old habits die hard

💐would rather be in a very very very long engagement as opposed to be being your friend first

💐somehow you do agree to atleast know him alittle

💐thus starts Declan's plan of being with you in this life. This poor man is desperate and tired of not being with you in any of his previous lives

💐let him have this one?

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

My Alpha Ch. 4

Donations | Send Thoughts Here | My Alpha Series | Ch. 3

(Thank you all so much for your patience while I get my hectic life sorted out. Here is Chapter 4!! Thankfully I've already finished the first half of chapter 5!) (For some reason my tags are not working, its only letting me tag a few of you and I don't know why. I will keep on tagging blogs if you want to be tagged though!)

______________

Declan and you both sat in your fathers tent, you were trying to wrap your mind around what had happened but no one had seen. “One minute we were walking and talking just fine, the next, he was just…gone. Y/N…I swear I don’t know what happened.” Declan said quietly as you nodded, “it’s okay, I imagine he just lost his footing is all, at least you guys were able to get to him and he’s going to be okay.” you cleaned the scraps from your fathers head, looking back at Declan who sat on the cot on the other side of the tent. “he can’t travel in this condition.” he nodded, “We’ll stay until he’s good enough to travel again, until then, I'll watch over the pack and make the necessary adjustments, I'll put together smaller groups to gather different things such as wood for fires, hunting trips, etc. we’ll get this all figured out.” Declan nodded as you stood up and covered your father up. “Thank you,” you whispered as you walked out of the tent.  

Declan looked back at Arthur as he laid there in bed, breathing shallow and light. He could do it, he could end it now. He could do it for you. To protect you. 

-Flashback- 

Declan followed Arthur through the woods, the rifle slung on his back. He didn’t mind hunting, he actually liked it alot, however, he did not want to be out here with your father, he’d rather be sitting by the fire, you by his side as he listened to you tell story after story. He tuned Arthur out, walking on until he heard a few branches break behind him, looking back Arthur was gone. “Arthur?” but he was gone, “Arthur!” Declan shouted louder and began to walk back where the pack master had been just moments before. 

Declan looked around and saw him lying on a cliff about ten feet below the edge, he was unconscious, he had landed near the edge, and Declan knew it would be difficult to get to him, he also knew he could just jump down to him and kick him off. But, what kind of pain would that cause you? He hollered for the other alphas, so they could form a plan. 

-End- 

You sat outside by the fire, warming up some tea and soup for the other alphas who were still awake. You were lost in thought when a hand touched your shoulder, causing you to gasp and jump slightly. Evan, another alpha in the group, who belonged with Marine, smiled down at you. “Evan, hey, what's up?” you asked standing up from the log you’d been sitting on. “I wanted to check on you. Arthurs going to be fine…I’m sure of it.” he smiled down at you. His eyes traveled from your face, down your unmarked neck, pausing for a moment at your pulse point before moving toward your chest. 

You visibly shivered and slightly pulled away from him, “I actually need to go check on him again, excuse me.” you tried to move but he grabbed your arm. “Why don’t I come with you? My dad is a doctor after all, so I know a thing or two.” he grinned, but it didn’t ease your nerves. It only made them worse. “Evan, that's nice but-” “We can handle it. Why don’t you go check in on your pregnant omega? Marine was asking for you earlier when we returned.” Declan's voice came from behind you as you felt his chest against your back. Evan looked at him, squaring his shoulders before he nodded a little. “Alright, just holler if you need anything.” he said before quickly walking back to his tent. 

You watched him go for a moment before you turned and looked up at Declan, the closeness between the two of you, made your cheeks grow hot, biting your lower lip at the feelings flooding your system, you glanced up at him. “Thank you,” you whispered. Declan swallowed and nodded, “I’ll always protect you.” he whispered back before he glanced around. Most of the pack were tucked away in their tents, and the few who remained outside were packing up for the evening to head in. You watched as the last camper climbed into their tent and zipped it up, before looking back at Declan. 

“I heated up some tea and soup if you want some…I’m sure you'd like to eat and go to sleep after the long day you’ve had.” you whispered as he stared down at you. “Honestly? I’m content just standing here talking with you…” he sighed, “But I imagine you have other things you need to take care of, and I don't want to stop you from doing whatever it is you need to do.” you instantly grabbed his forearm, “I don't.” you said urgently, “I just need to check on my father, if you give me a minute maybe we can continue our conversation from earlier?” 

Declan grinned and turned “that sounds great, I'll make us some bowls and I'll grab some glasses.” you smiled and walked back into your fathers tent checking on him, he was still sound asleep, his wound still looked good but you wanted to keep a close eye on him incase anything changed over night. 

After checking on your father, you rejoined Declan out by the fire and enjoyed some soup. “This is delicious,” Declan commented after a few minutes of silence. You smiled over at him, swallowing the bite you’d taken. “Thank you, Stews and soups are my most favorite foods,” you took a drink before turning toward him, “There's this festival, once a year in Italy, that is nothing but soups and stews! You can buy little sample jars from vendors and get recipe cards as well, it's so cool, I’ve always wanted to go…one day,” you smile was sad, as you looked back down at the bowl. 

“I’ve never been to Italy, but it sounds incredible. Maybe we can go together one day?” he asked as you grinned up at him, your eyes lighting up even in the dark evening. The flames danced across your skin in patterns, “I would love that,” you whispered as he scooted closer, “its chilly tonight, would you like my jacket again?” he asked as you moved closer to him automatically. “I don't want you to be cold,” you whispered. Declan chuckled and draped his jacket over your shoulders once again. “I’ll be okay. I just don’t want you to be cold.” You lifted your shoulder, pressing your nose into his jacket and breathing in before you scooted next to him, pressing yourself into his side. “I think I’ll be plenty warm right here,” you breathed out looking up at him from under your lashes. 

Declan wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer, though it was impossible and stared down at you. “I want to try something,” he whispered as you stared up at him with doe eyes. “Okay,” you breathed out as he lowered his head, his lips brushing yours gently. You closed your eyes feeling his lips graze yours; there was a spark the moment his lips touched yours. You pushed yourself against him, pressing your lips to his urgently. Declan’s hand found the back of your head instantly as he threaded his fingers through your hair. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling like fire was pulsing through your veins. You craved to be closer to him in every way, craved the feeling of his skin against yours. 

Declan bit your lip, growling as you gasped, the need and hunger growing deeply in his soul. Time stood still as you melted together, feeling like your souls intertwined and the earth stopped moving beneath your feet. That tiny voice muttered in your brain, ‘True mates’ as your lungs felt like fire was igniting in them. Desperate for air, you pulled back slightly to catch your breath. 

“Wow,” you breathed out, panting softly. Your eyes remained closed as you pressed your forehead against his. “I’ve never felt that way before…” he stated in a husky breath as you met his stare.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added)

@notebooks-of-nonsense @fdl305 @bval-1 @calimoi @syntheticavenger @mrsjenniferwinchester @chaneajoyyy @mommad @ellen-reincarnated1967 @adriellej @coffeebooksandfandom @patzammit @posiemax @auriel187 @ladybug05 @stoneyggirl2 @fallenoutofrose @mrspeacem1nusone @teamfreewill-imagine @inlovewith3 @auvisanspeur @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @leaveitbythewave @sleutherclaw @sandlee44 @aaqua-tofana @nohumanswereharmed @msgrandma49 @traceyaudette @cevansbaby-dove

[momoamadness]

Frontier S02E04 Mutiny

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

I wasn't expecting to be called out on a Friday night like this.....yikes,

[neverenoughmarauders]

Ch 64: Quidditch

Lily is at the Quidditch match between the Holyhead Harpies and Kenmare Kestrels with her friends Mary Macdonald, Maeve Ryan and Maeve's family. She can't believe she gets to meet the captain of the Holyhead Harpies, that is until James Potter shows up.

Lily felt as though she needed at least two extra pairs of eyes to take in everything around her. She could hardly believe she was there, at the Quidditch match between the Holyhead Harpies and the Kenmare Kestrels.  Wizards and witches filled the area, more than she had ever seen in her life - even in Diagon Alley. As almost everyone was dressed in green robes, Lily felt like she was walking in a forest on a particularly breezy day. In amongst the green crowd, Lily could spot saleswizards and witches, carrying trays full of merchandise. Amongst the items, Lily couldn't help but notice the stack of harps similar to the one Ciara had brought with her. 'It's not going to be easy to tell the fans apart,' Mary observed. 'Ah, sure but y'know they're Kestrels fans if they've brought their harp,' Ciara grinned. Maeve rolled her eyes.  'What was that, M?' 'Nothin'.' 'Traitor.' So the two sisters were at it again, Lily thought. 'Martha's family,' said Maeve, crossing her arms, 'and she plays for the Harpies.'  'Aye, and when's the last time ya even saw her, I wonder? Not since you were three. Hardly a reason to support a team. Anyways she's out now,' Ciara shot back. 'Where I live shouldn't decide who I support either.' It wasn't the first time Maeve had made this point. 'The Harpies have far more fans across all of Britain and Ireland. Why? Because they're better.' As a Harpies fan herself, Lily agreed, but she stayed out of the argument. Firstly, she didn't care all that much about any of this, and secondly, both sisters really seemed to enjoy the discussion - any discussion really. Petunia would have hated staying with the Ryans, but Lily enjoyed the passion the Ryans seemed to harbour.  'It's because they're an all-lass team,' Declan offered. 'I don't see many blokes supportin' them.' 'And what in Morgana's name d'you think I am?' Maeve snapped. Declan gave Maeve a puzzled look, before a grin broke out across his handsome face: 'Hardly.' 'Why does everyone keep sayin' that,' Maeve complained, throwing up her hands. 'Ah sure now,' said Declan, squeezing his sister's shoulder. 'You know I'm just havin' a laugh.' 'Hilarious,' Maeve scowled, shoving her brother away. 'Don't be like that,' said Ciara to her sister, her smile gone. 'It's just good fun.' 'She knows that,' said Declan quickly, giving Ciara a warning glance. 'Listen, you're in luck, M. I know the captain of the Harpies a wee bit. Fancy meetin' her?' 

Read the rest on AO3

[void-botanist]

I'm curious about Declan and:

Gil

Tatya

Bo

Horatio

Asking you to write a whole essay lmao

Send me a platonic pairing and get an essay lol

genuinely thank you Kendrick I want to write you an essay lol (and honestly good excuse for more dynamic building)

Declan & Gil

Declan is happy that Tristan has someone else in her life telling her to stop blaming herself for Cady's death, because even though she introduced him to warp racing everyone knows Cady did whatever he damn well felt like and no one can hold her (the person who also got out of warp racing and told Cady to) accountable for his actions. He also likes listening to Gil's tales of school shenanigans and explanations of her craft projects. He feels like she actually listens when he talks, and that means a lot. But he's never fully gotten over the feeling of envy that Tristan gets to have a partner while he remains in permanent mourning. He tries not to let it color his relationship with Gil. But on some level Gil knows that's what he thinks and she can't really blame him. She actually knows a lot more about Declan in general than he knows about her, not because he's not interested in her life but because she's good friends with Rodney, and Rodney always ends up eventually talking about Declan. She also knows things that Declan doesn't (or at least doesn't discover until Nicea), like that Rodney has been secretly borrowing Declan's storage unit keys to check up on things. She won't say this to anyone except Tristan but she wishes there was more she could do for him beyond occasional gifts and distractions.

Declan & Tatya

I harp on how Tatya is a lover and a flirt and oupy but she is also a genuine professional, and when she's around Declan (read: the boss) she gets right to the point and is very clear about what she can and can't do. Declan loves this, and also loves the absolute smoothness of her warps. Like, professional warp witches who work out of contracting companies do good warps, but never with the same almost-imperceptible entry and exit Tatya can manage. Declan is, however, kind of over the conflict between her and Isabel. It seems to be mostly ribbing, and they keep it out of his bridge, but oh boy does he not want to have to lay down the law about them shutting up, so he hopes it doesn't become anything beyond that. For the most part Declan just doesn't think about Tatya outside of her doing her job or hanging out in the bridge - even though she's constantly in the Nicea instead of her own attached ship she hasn't been incorporated into the flow of the crew in his opinion - but he is vaguely fond of her presence, maybe because she reminds him a little of Cady. Tatya mostly just wants to impress him, because she wants to do well and get paid, but also it's obvious to her that he's in charge of this weird quasi-family dynamic and if he's cool with her, then Isabel has to actually face her requests instead of complaining to this guy about it (if anyone actually complains to this guy. she's beginning to doubt that he even accepts complaints).

Declan & Bo

To be perfectly honest Declan doesn't get Bo. No one really does except Tristan but Declan is especially ??? when it comes to them. On the plus side, Bo is usually pretty quiet and doesn't try to draw Declan into shenanigans. On the minus side, they're always saying weird shit and getting everyone around them to be loud and eating everything (that can be a plus too. depends on whether they're eating the things he wanted). Because Bo is very pro-warp racing, Declan has always been kind of suspicious of them, but Cady always came back in one piece, so… He doesn't blame Bo for Cady's death exactly, but he also very much does not not blame them for it. Without easy access to a warp witch even Cady's thrill-seeking ass would not be out there warp racing so much, but also without that witch being Bo that might have been a more dangerous prospect. Perhaps the best description of their relationship is that Declan tolerates Bo, in the most neutral way possible, and Bo thinks that Declan is a real solid guy. Nothing like Cady, and probably doesn't even like them, but still solid. And also sometimes points them to the food in his fridge he doesn't want, which they are happy to take care of. After spending a decade with Cady Bo has a lot more understanding of Declan, but I'm not sure how much that comes out in their interactions.

Declan & Horatio

Declan has an immense respect for Horatio based 50% on Horatio's meticulously-kept records. I realized because of this ask that if Nicea and AOM take place at roughly the same time (as I assumed) and Cady picked up the old dashboard corona from Horatio a little over ten years ago, this means that Horatio has been running a little side hustle in plant sales since he was in college, which honestly checks out. But I think that also means that Declan has never seen Horatio's shop before Nicea, because that definitely didn't exist a decade ago. Still, Horatio has always kept handwritten sales records in an extremely neat and readable print hand (Declan can't fathom this. how can you write that much print, with a pen, no less) and Declan is extremely enchanted by this. The other 50% of Declan's respect comes from the fact that Horatio was the one who decorated Cady's funeral (in this culture, more a party/celebration of life than a funeral, and divorced from the actual burial) and never once made a fuss to him about anything or turned his customer-service cheerfulness on him. There was simply a moment as Horatio was packing up everything where, unprompted, Horatio cut him an orchid to put on Cady's grave, and explained that it was a Summer Band symbol of grief. Horatio, for his part, has no idea what it feels like to lose someone like Declan has - multiple times! - but he figures that's a good reason to just stay out of it.

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @kk7-rbs @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

YES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 COMMUNICATE WITH ME. TALK TO ME. ASK ME QUESTIONS!!!! This seriously helps keep my writing spirit alive!!!

Reblog if this sight on your blog makes you smile and you would like your followers to talk to you more. 

[meadow-of-rye]

12 Names That I’m Loving Right Now

Girls

1. Poppy - Meaning: Red Flower

2. Georgia - Meaning: Farmer or Earth-worker

3. Mabel - Meaning: Beautiful, loving, lovable

4. Sutton - Meaning: Southern Settlement

5. Lyra - Meaning: Harp

6. Ava - Meaning: Life, Bird

Boys

1. Jude - Meaning: Praised

2. Maverick - Meaning: An independent man who avoids conformity

3. Declan - Meaning; Full of Goodness, Man of Prayer

4. Briggs - Meaning: Dweller by the Bridge

5. August - Meaning: Great, To Increase

6. Strummer - Meaning: Music Man

[itsawhumpsideblog]

In The Ranks Of Death You Will Find Him, Book 1

Content notes: The first battle and all that goes with it; the trauma of survival; a sprained ankle; another difficult family conversation; the introduction of the only romance plotline I've ever written and liked. The chapter title and lyrics are from The Minstrel Boy, the song that inspired Rory. This was probably my first "favorite song" (yes, back in the cassette tape days) and has been a favorite ever since. The first two verses are Irish, written in the late 1700s, but the third verse is an Irish-American Civil War-era addition. As in past chapters, this is the version I grew up with, although there are others that I think are prettier. Listen here: https://youtu.be/N3kEd7jiAVQ And a bonus song, the inspiration for Jack (who is the only one of the boys not to have inspired a chapter title). The song is Banks of Newfoundland and the version is by Great Big Sea! Listen here: https://youtu.be/rIynC1KndZQ

"The minstrel boy to the war is gone

In the ranks of death you will find him.

His father's sword he has girded on

And his wild harp slung behind him."

~The Minstrel Boy

In late May, we were finally ordered away from our drill site of the past few weeks. We packed up everything we could carry, and fell into formation one hot morning to march into rebel territory.

"Mary, Mother of God," Jack swore when we stopped for water mid-day. "If I ever make it to our camp, it's going to be a genuine miracle."

Patrick grinned as he scooped water in his tin cup. As usual, he looked cooler than the rest of us did. He took a long drink and then held Rory's beloved fife as Rory went over to the creek to fill his canteen.

It was a long day, but that night we were camped with several other regiments- the 13th and 79th New York regiments among them- and we found we had been assigned to Sherman's brigade of McDowell's division. There was more drill, more Virginia heat, and plenty of thunderstorms to drench us every afternoon. Sometimes I welcomed the rain for the cool it brought, and sometimes I cursed it for the humidity.

It was late July. We had been in the army for two months now, with only a month left to go, and we hadn't seen any fighting.

"Remind me again why we enlisted," I grumbled after a particularly long, hot day. We were sitting around in front of our tents eating cold beef and hard tack, because it was too hot to light a fire and too tiring to put more effort into our meals.

"For the adventure of it, of course," Patrick laughed. "I just can't for the life of me figure out why I didn't let Declan come with us. He's missing all the fun. This would've cured his war fever for certain."

Jack shook his head. Ted laughed. "Patrick, lad, you did a good thing making your brother stay home. He's surely getting more work done than we are."

Having had that conversation, of course the next day we were ordered to pack up and start marching. We were headed for a town called Manassas, and perhaps, so they said, for a battle. We were excited, a little nervous, and highly skeptical that there would be any excitement. We forded a river at a place called Sudley Springs in the mid-morning and at noon we were on a hill, watching cannon-fire before us and trying, on the advice of our officers, to choke down a little hard tack and drink some water.

"You're going to need all your strength, boys," Sergeant O'Malley cautioned us. He stopped in front of Rory. "You doing all right, Coleman?"

"Yessir."

"Not nervous, are you?"

"Nosir."

"Good lad."

It was a white lie- we were all a little nervous. They said there were some ladies from Washington who had come to watch the battle. Somebody was supposed to have seen them, but all I could see were soldiers, and lots of smoke and it was scaring me.

A little before one o'clock we were ordered to fall back, off the hill where we had been waiting and past some woods.

"What do you suppose that means?" Jack asked nervously.

"We're just moving back so we can get a running start," Ted replied, all confidence. "If they'd just put the boys of the 69th in, then they'd see how fast the Rebs can run." He laughed and we tried to join him, but it sounded thin and insincere even to my own ears.

It was a little after two when we got the order to move again.

"All right, boys," called an officer, "We've got our orders. Up on that hill-" he pointed "- Ricketts' battery has been captured by the Rebels. We're going to get it back." We started forward and I realized I was sweating, but not from the heat. The sweat pouring down my back was ice cold.

I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because as we crossed Bull Run and started up the hill towards the battery we were going to try to rescue, the first of a storm of bullets flew past us.

Next to me I saw Patrick duck and then laugh and blush, standing up straighter. Ted flinched and seemed to shake himself. His jaw was set tight and he gripped his gun. We fired when we could, or were ordered to, and advanced grimly up the hill.

The first of our men died in that volley and I'll never forget the sounds of it. Lead striking flesh and bone, the way they screamed when they fell, all of it was a blur in my mind but stayed fresh in my senses for days afterward. We went on, through it all, leaving the fallen where they lay, and I shook as the bullets whistled over my head.

I was afraid to look around to see whether my friends had made it. I could see Patrick beside me, out of the corner of my eye, and Ted on the other side, but Rory and Jack weren't in formation with us and I wondered where they were in all this- whether they had stayed behind or come with the regiment into this lead rain.

As we got closer, I noticed, somehow, that there was a little house on top of the hill, near where the guns were. The windows were shot out, and for a split second I thought I saw a woman's form in the window. No, I thought, of course there isn't anyone inside, and I gave myself a mental shake and turned my attention back to the task at hand.

I remember fewer of the details than I had expected to, although my sensory impressions are perfect when I close my eyes and allow the memories of that first battle to surface in my mind. The details of some of our other engagements are clearer after all these years, but then, they were made up of less anticipation if not less raw fear.

Off to our left, a grey shape came through the mist. We spun almost as one man towards the direction from which they came and were trying desperately to get them in our sights when, luckily, there was a yell.

"Hold your fire!" a voice screamed. "They're our boys!" My hands shook as I turned back to the hill. That we had come so close to firing on our own men, dressed as they were in grey uniforms, frightened me. We knew that a few regiments wore grey. We had seen them before and should have known their position. The enemy was in front of us- fellow New Yorkers were on our flank.

We took the cannons, and all around me men fell. Some were dead right away, and made no noise. Others screamed and cried. I saw one young soldier, not much older than myself, fall holding his side. Blood was pouring through his fingers and he was crying out in Irish, curled up on the rusty grass. His voice haunts me to this day. When I closed my eyes that night, all I saw was him lying there. I never knew his name and I don't care to guess what happened to him in the end, but for days afterwards, whenever I lay down to sleep, his voice echoed in my ears and the sight of him stained my dreams.

We had taken the cannons at the top of the hill, so near the little house with its windows shot out, when the order came to retreat.

"Just get out of here," the officer shouted who gave us the order. "Just get the hell out." Almost in a body, we turned and ran.

I was halfway down the hill when it occurred to me to look for my friends. I had been so caught up in loading and firing and keeping my feet moving in the right direction, in stuffing down the panic I felt, that I had stopped paying attention to who was next to me. Suddenly I was worried- I turned to my right to find a stranger there. It wasn't Patrick. My heart dropped and I whirled around to the left and found that Ted was just a few feet from me, whole and running as fast as he could. It brought me some relief, but not much. We made it to the stream and scrambled through it, then kept on going, more slowly the farther we got, towards Washington.

I couldn't find Patrick. I looked all around, barely watching where I was going, nearly blinded with panic. As I got farther from the sound of guns and the battlefield, my head cleared. The more aware of my surroundings I was, the more frightened I was for Patrick. After several minutes, I stopped still and a man I had never seen before promptly plowed into me.

"Watch where you're going!" he fumed, probably out of the sheer fright we all felt, and I apologized without really thinking about it.

I felt the need to do something, and I knew that I would never be able to live with myself if I didn't find Patrick. The thought that he might be ahead of me never entered my mind. I was consumed with the idea that he was wounded or dead, and that he had been left on the hill by that house, where we had been fighting.

I turned and began struggling back the way I had come through the stream of men, determined to find Patrick. I had been walking for only a few minutes when I heard something.

"Micheál!" a voice shouted and my breath caught. "Micheál!" I spun around, searching the crowd of uniformed men, and after a moment I saw Patrick, waving to me. He was limping and I ran over to him.

"Patrick," I gasped, out of breath and shaking. "Are you wounded?"

"No," Patrick said in disgust. "I've sprained my foot." He rolled his eyes. His face was dirt- streaked, as my own was, and there were rivulets of sweat running through the soot on his cheeks.  

"How did you manage that?" I asked, laughing with relief.

"I tripped crossing the stream. I was trying to catch up with you and Ted when we retreated."

"I was ahead of you?" I asked, trying to figure out where we had lost one another.

"Yes, I was next to you until we started back down the hill, and then I fell behind." So he had been there almost until the moment I looked around. I felt better about that.

"Come on, let's go catch up with the others," I suggested

"I'll try," Patrick agreed. We went on, but the going was slow, with Patrick limping, and after a little while I got impatient.

"Here, lean on me," I told him. He sighed, embarrassed, but slung an arm around my shoulders and we followed the line of men on towards the capitol.

Somehow we managed to catch up with Ted. He looked relieved and came over to walk with us. "We've all made it," he said. "I saw Rory and Jack a bit ago. They were sent back for the wounded- as stretcher bearers, you know." We nodded and Ted put his arm around Patrick, taking some of his weight onto his own shoulder so that we could move faster. Again, Patrick looked embarrassed and he frowned. Patrick hated having to admit that he needed help with anything.

We kept going and by the time we stopped retreating we had gone a good long way. At last we could sit and make a fire, eat something and rest for a while. Patrick sat down by the fire while Ted put on a pot of coffee and I went to wet a rag in the nearby creek to wrap Patrick's sprained foot.

"Ouch," he said, making a face, and then he looked disgusted. "I feel like an idiot," he complained. "Men getting shot all around me, and I only tripped."

I shrugged. "Your good luck again, I suppose."

"That it is."

Ted finally lounged next to us in the waning light. "I'm with Patrick," he informed me. "All the things that could have happened back there and the lad takes a spill? That'll be a fine story to tell the girls at home. A proper hero he is." Ted looked at Patrick and shook his head. "What were you doing, dancing out there? Did your shoelace come untied?" The relief of stress was enough to set us laughing and we tried hard to stifle the noise, but couldn't stop. We went from laughter as though at a joke, to hysterical laughter that wasn't funny and from which we couldn't calm down.

Then, Jack and Rory returned and the looks on their faces sobered us right up.

Jack's face was white and drawn. His eyes weren't focusing properly and he looked unsteady on his feet. Rory's eyes were empty and his expression very carefully blank. They came over to the fire and Rory took Jack's elbow and helped him sit down. Rory sat down, too, one arm reassuringly around Jack's shoulders. Jack ran one shaking hand through his hair and stared into the fire with wide, horrified eyes.

"What's happened to him?" Patrick asked in a shocked voice.

"He'll be all right," Rory said, his voice steady. "He just needs rest." He looked at Patrick's bandaged foot. "And what happened to you?"

"I tripped," Patrick said in disgust. "Jack, what happened?" To our horror, tears began to roll down Jack's face in torrents.

"It was-" he started and had to stop and take a deep breath. Collecting himself, he continued in a shaky voice, "They sent us back for the wounded. God, it was awful. He died on the stretcher. We were right out front of the field hospital and he died. He gave me his letter and he died-" Jack's voice broke and we stared at each other, helpless, as Jack buried his face in his hands. He sobbed, his shoulders heaving, and Rory silently pulled out a sooty handkerchief and gave it to Jack. His arm still around Jack's shoulders in that silent gesture of comfort, he explained in his usual way.

"He was a drummer, younger than me. We were taking him to a field hospital. He gave Jack a letter for his mother- I don't think he had the chance to send it before the battle. We were standing out front of the hospital when he died." Rory was silent for a moment. Then, his voice thicker than it had been before, he added, "Jack's just taking it hard. That's all." Struggling to master his emotions, he motioned for a cup of coffee, the first time I had ever seen him ask for anything. Surprised, I handed it to him and he pushed it into Jack's hands and made him drink.

Jack downed the hot liquid in just a few sips. Tears were still falling down his sooty face and when he had finished half the cup he handed it wordlessly back to Rory. Rory took a few sips of his own and then stood, pulling Jack up with him.

Jack seemed in shock and did as he was told. His arm still around Jack, Rory walked him in the direction of the creek. When they came back, Jack's face was clean, though he was still sobbing and his eyes were puffy and red.

"Lay down, there by the fire," Rory said quietly. Jack lay down; facing the flames, his head on his knapsack, and Rory covered him with a blanket. He sat down next to Jack who lay crying quietly until exhaustion set in and he finally slept.

Rory nodded, satisfied that Jack would be all right, and after a moment he spoke.

"It was worse than anything I've ever seen," he said solemnly. "And I've… I've seen some bad places before. This was different." There was a long silence. We had been there, too, and seen our own nightmares, but watching Rory and Jack had made me acutely aware of the fact that when the order came, we had turned and run and that they had cleaned up after us, in a manner of speaking. I felt suddenly guilty.

"He'll be all right in the morning," Rory said, looking over at Jack, whose face was more peaceful in the firelight. "It was just a shock for him. It was a hard place to be."

We nodded and the discussion ended there. We didn't waste much time in laying down for the night, although I, at least, lay awake for a long time.

Duty for the next couple of days was very light. Not only was the army recovering from the battle, but our ninety-day enlistment was up on the 25th of that month and we were to be sent back to New York.

Sergeant O'Malley excused Patrick from duty for those couple of days. His foot was still painful and so swollen he couldn’t put his shoe on. We gave Patrick the jobs of tending the fire and preparing supper and between us we handled anything he might have done before. Then, finally, the day came when we helped him onto the train for the trip back to New York.

The train was quieter this time, I noticed, and not just from the loss of over a hundred voices. Our own conversations were more subdued, and there was no boasting or daydreaming of killing rebels. We'd seen that, and we knew what it meant now.

We perked up some, though, when we finally got off the train. There was to be a parade through the streets and it seemed more in line with what we had expected when we signed our enlistment papers.

We formed up, our uniforms dirtier than they had been, our ranks somewhat thinned, and marched proudly past cheering crowds, all come out to welcome us home. This was what I had envisioned when I had enlisted. Honor and glory, pretty girls and parades, the battles fought and finished and the group of us home in one piece, to be made much of. Then I thought back to a conversation we had had on the train.

"So, will you be staying home for good?" I had asked, curious. My own mind was long made up- after all I had seen, there was no way I could stay away. It had been terrible, and terrifying, but the war had to be won. We had to fight.

Patrick had shaken his head. "I can't," he said, and Jack and Ted agreed.

Rory merely shrugged. "What would I go home to?" he asked, and that was that. We would all be re-enlisting.

That thought dampened my enjoyment of the parade, knowing that the war was far from over for me and my friends. I could only hope that our next homecoming would be this glorious. Then I looked around again and the cheering crowds and buildings of New York City, such a far cry from that little house on the battlefield, brought me back to the present, which I was enjoying.

I saw Rory smile shyly as a young girl thrust a flower into his hands. Ted laughed and thumped him on the shoulder and then accepted with a bow a flower from the same girl. I shook my head and Jack laughed at me. Patrick snickered at the look on Rory's face, and then went back to concentrating on getting through the parade. He had refused to stay behind and his foot was mostly healed, but he was still limping some.

When at last we were given leave to go, Patrick leaned on Rory's shoulder and mine to go the few blocks home. Ted's mother met us at the end of the parade route, and we watched in amusement as she and his crowd of siblings rushed over.

"Oh, Teddy," his mother exclaimed as she hugged him, "it's so good to have you back." It was funny to see big Ted submitting to hugs from a crowd of girls, all with their hairpins just exactly in place and their aprons starched, in contrast to his mud and dirt. His little brother, too, was freshly washed and combed and Ted picked him up and let the little boy ride on his shoulders.

"Are these your friends?" Mrs. McGrath asked her son, motioning to us.

"Yes," he replied. "Mother, this is Jack, Rory, Micheál and Patrick. Boys, this is my mother and the rest of the clan." He laughed.

"How do you do, ma'am," we said politely and she smiled.

"It's good to meet you, boys. Now, Teddy, we'd best be getting home. Your father will be home soon, and he'll be wanting to see you." She took the littlest girl by the hand and looked expectantly down the street, clearly ready to get going.

"I'll be seeing you, lads," Ted promised, and headed home in the middle of that crowd of girls.

Jack was the next to leave, though as it turned out he lived only a few blocks from my own home and walked most of the way there with us.

"We'll be enlisting together, won't we?" he asked and the three of us nodded.

"Don't think I could go off again without you lads," Patrick grinned and Rory nodded, much more seriously.

"Well, then, I'll be seeing you about," Jack told us and with handshakes all around, he went home.

Rory stood still outside our building, not following us as I helped Patrick inside, and he had his old, frightened look on his face.

"What's the matter, lad? Come on in," Patrick said, motioning to him to follow us.

"You don't mind?" Rory asked, timidly, and Patrick understood suddenly.

"Of course not," he said. "You're to stay with us as long as you like. Come, now, let's go see how the families are getting along." Rory smiled shyly and followed us up the stairs.

At last we were on the third floor, where Patrick's family lived and where I suspected I might find my own family as well. Sure enough, when we opened the door, they were all inside. Maura and Mother were darning socks with Mrs. Murphy while Bridget and Colleen washed dishes, Declan was working sums on his slate from a schoolbook open on the table, and Mr. Murphy was reading an old newspaper.

There was a collective gasp as we entered and our families stood, almost as one, and hurried over to us.

We just had time to get in the door when we were smothered by hugs and kisses from our mothers, Mr. Murphy clapping us on the shoulder, and our sisters cheering. It was, in truth, rather embarrassing. Rory smiled sadly as he watched the scene.

"Patrick," his mother exclaimed, after a moment, "were you wounded?" She had seen the way he was standing, and she looked shocked and worried. Patrick flushed red.

"No," he admitted. "I've wrenched my foot, that's all."

"Come, sit down and I'll have a look at it," his mother said, and his father helped Patrick to sit down and put his foot up on a chair.

"Mother," I interrupted, putting a hand on Rory's shoulder, "this is our friend Rory. He's got no place to go in the city- do you think he could he stay with us for a bit?"

"Of course he can," Mother said. She smiled kindly at Rory and I saw him relax. "Rory, it's good to meet you. Why don't you come in and sit down? Bridget, put some coffee on for the lads."

Rory and I sat down at the table, across from Patrick, and I looked around, taking in all the familiar details of home. Mrs. Murphy had examined Patrick's foot, which was swollen and reddened.

"You've not broken it," she decided, "but you've sprained it, sure. Better bandage it, and put you to bed." Patrick rolled his eyes, and was about to protest, but Mrs. Murphy's mind was made up. He allowed her to lead him over to the big bed in the corner of the main room, with the trundle bed underneath it, and he relaxed against the pillows, clasping his hands behind his head.

"Now I feel like we've really made it home," he said to Rory and me, grinning. There was a long silence between us, broken by Bridget who came over and announced in her bossy way,

"Supper's ready. Come on, Micheál, and bring your friend with you. Patrick, Colleen said she'd bring a plate over."

"Thanks, lass," Patrick grinned, laughing a little at all the ways in which the girls had not changed. Declan, however, seemed to have changed much more. He was quiet and a little sullen looking. He closed his schoolbooks with a snap and practically threw his slate in the corner. He said little, but he looked at Patrick and I, and particularly Rory, who was his own age, with envy in his eyes.

We went back to our own home after supper, down a flight of stairs.

"We'll be back tomorrow," I told Patrick as we left and Rory smiled and waved a little as he shut the door behind us.

That night was one of the best I had ever spent. Unlike Patrick, I slept in the small second room. With all the girls in my family, they needed more space. Mother got the largest bed in the main room, and the girls slept on a trundle bed and a cot. My cot was as I had left it, exactly. I was touched and a little saddened by the fact that they had not put the room to use while I had been gone.

Rory offered to sleep on the floor under his coat, but Mother refused that. Instead, she went across the hall and borrowed a cot from our neighbors, who had an unused bed since their oldest son had gone off to sea, and we fit it snugly into my little room. Then mother insisted that he borrow a nightshirt from me and that we both take baths.

She drew a tub of water and, to Rory's obvious relief, let us take it into my room to bathe. Rory undressed and got into the tub and when I turned around, his privacy assured, I winced at the sight of the scars on his back, now long healed but still visible.

When he had finished it was my turn to wash away the dirt of three long months. We had bathed in the army, of course, but it was different to be home with a tub of hot water, and not wading into a creek and hoping the soap didn't float away. Few things in my life ever felt so good as that warm bath, and when we were finished, we dried off and got into bed.

Being home was like a dream. When I woke the next morning, it took me several long minutes to remember where I was and it wasn't really until I opened my eyes that it sunk in; I was home.

Mother and Maura were working that day and so was Bridget, which meant that they were gone by the time Rory and I woke up. I left Rory sleeping, his face perfectly peaceful, and went into the larger room. Colleen had gone off to work with Bridget and Declan, I knew, would be at school. That meant that Patrick was alone upstairs. I went back to my room to dress, and left a note for Rory before heading upstairs to the Murphy's apartment.

Patrick was more or less as we had left him. Though he had washed and dressed in a nightshirt, he was still in bed, lounging among the pillows. He grinned and waved as I came in the door and sat up cross-legged.

"Where's Rory?" he asked.

"Still sleeping," I replied. "I left him a note, but if he doesn't come over soon I'll go back downstairs and see if he got it."

"That sounds like a good plan," Patrick said. He paused a second. "Micheál, Mother thinks I’m staying home."

"Uh-oh," I said. "There's going to be a scene, isn't there?"

"There is. At your house, too, I suppose."

"Probably."

We sat silent, brooding on the conversation we would eventually need to have with our families, when there was a tap on the door and Rory came in. He smiled shyly at us, and walked over to sit on the floor by Patrick's bed. He had dressed in his uniform again, having nothing else to wear.

"You found my note," I guessed.

Rory looked confused. "Note?" he asked

"I left you a note, telling you where I was," I replied.

He ducked his head, blushing. "I can't read, Micheál," he said in a quiet voice.

"Oh," was all I could think of to say. "Sorry."

"No matter," he replied graciously. "I'll learn someday," he added, smiling at the thought. "I'd like that."

It was a quiet day. With our families gone and no work for us in the city, we had nowhere to go and not much to do- for once. It was a quiet couple of weeks, in fact, as we ran errands for our mothers and began planning for the future.

When the day came, however, there were no two ways to break the news. The call went out late in August for volunteers to join the 69th New York Volunteer Infantry- we had been members of the militia before- and we simply went back and enlisted.

"Again?" Mother cried when I came home with the news. I just nodded. "And you, too?" she said, looking at Rory. She had grown fond of him, for all he didn't talk, and Rory liked being mothered. She frowned and asked, with despair in her voice, "There's nothing I can do to stop you?" We shook our heads.

Mother came over and hugged each one of us. "Take care of yourselves. Come home all in one piece, and when the war is over, you come back here with Micheál, Rory." We promised that we would, and not long after came the day when we were told to report again.

It was November and we were about ready to leave New York. We were ordered to form up on the morning of the 18th for a ceremony before we left the City- we were to be presented with a flag made by Tiffany and Co, and, I figured, to hear a lot of boring political speeches.

I was right about the ceremony. We stood there, our legs going numb, for longer than I cared to think about while politicians spoke, while the flag was presented, and while more politicians spoke. The part I was looking forward to, not necessarily happily but for which I was waiting, was leaving for the war again.

The flags were handsome, I had to admit that. One was a big American flag, and the other flag was our new regimental one. It was green, with a golden harp on it and our regimental number on a banner across the top. Rory, who was musical, liked the harp in particular. What I liked most was that when the flag was presented the ceremony was over.

It was a familiar scene at the train station, not long after. Patrick and Rory and I had found seats on the car and were looking out the window, watching Ted's mother kiss him goodbye, and looking around for Jack. He was nowhere to be seen, and Patrick and I were leaning out the window, searching the crowd in case he was looking for us.

"Hello, again," Ted greeted us as he bounded up the stairs into the car and sat down next to Rory. "It's been a while since I've seen you lads. Where's Jack?"

"Haven't seen him yet," I replied. "It's odd he's not here yet."

"Hmm. That it is. He was coming back for sure, was he?"

"Last I heard."

"When did you last hear?"

"Tuesday. He told me he'd meet me at the train." No sooner had I said this than we heard footsteps come running up the aisle of the car and Jack sat down next to me. He was breathing heavily and had arrived just in time- no sooner had he taken a seat then the train began to move.

"I've made it," Jack panted. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath. When he at last sat up, his hair stuck in a dozen different directions, he explained, "I had a letter this morning." He stopped and took a few more gasps. "I was trying to finish a reply and get it mailed, but…" he shook his head. "Never mind," He laughed. "I probably should have started writing it this morning."

"Who'd you have a letter from?" Ted asked, and Jack blushed. We all stared at him, amused to see this new side of our friend.

"Sinead Rafferty," Jack muttered, and I realized that I remembered him talking about her before.

"Sinead, hmm?" Ted teased. "She's your girl?"

"I guess so," Jack said, smiling to himself.

"What did she have to say?" I asked.

"She's coming to New York," Jack burst out, as soon as the words had left my mouth. He was grinning broadly. "I… I wrote her and told her to come. I said I would find her a place to stay. She's like you, Micheál, she's always wanted to come to America, and she's finally found the money, working for some Englishman that owns a house in Dublin. She wrote to say she'd gotten passage on a ship and she'll be here soon as she can."

"But you won't be there when she arrives, will you?" Ted pointed out.

"That's what took so long getting here," Jack explained. "I just got the letter this morning and I had to find someone to meet her, and then I had to write her to let her know I've enlisted again." He had been starting to catch his breath, but he was out of breath again with excitement.

"Are you going to propose right away, or will you wait a bit?" Ted teased and Jack blushed again.

"Who said I was going to propose at all?" he replied, getting obstinate.

"You didn't have to say-" Ted began, but Patrick cut him off.

"That's good for you both," he said to Jack. "Ted, leave the lad alone, will you? He'll propose when he's ready, and besides, he can't do it from the other side of an ocean." Ted snickered and Jack colored up again. They managed to keep the argument going until we had almost left the city and were well on our way back to the war.

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[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

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