#dunno if radio company had the time to catch up since I only started listening maybe a week ago

[sudden-memory-loss]

spotify wrapped is so fucking funny when you don't use spotify. like, 'you listened to one genre', yeah bud, i guess i did. you're lucky I even did that

[katsukikitten]

WARNING 18+ BIRB NOT BIRB SMUT! Band AU, harem collab. In which reader meets her favorite faceless singer. Little over 3k

Sweat trickles down your spine as your favorite song is blasted from the large speakers. Fog from the stage lingers just above your head as you feel as if you were in a dream. The setting is surreal especially since you actually managed to WIN those rare radio tickets to see a band in concert. And not just any band, your favorite fucking bad.  

TOKYO MOB

The band consisted of four people, Bakugou Katsuki, the drummer who was angrier than any person you'd ever seen wearing nothing but skinny black jeans and a perpetual frown. Jiro, so cool and sleek in anything she wore as she tore up her guitar as side vocals. Then there was Denki, funny, cute even, on the bass with his electric blonde hair and killer smile. Lastly there was "Dark Shadow", the lead vocalist. 

No one knew his real name or what he looked like, he chose to wear a headpiece in the shape of a raven or crow. You loved him, even without knowing his face. 

He was so fit, strong arms and deadly abs that could be seen from beneath his cut off band tee crop top, much like you were wearing now. His voice was soothing as a bird's song, whether he was screaming or singing. The sound so uniquely beautiful it brought tears to your eyes the first time you heard it. And standing here with nothing but a small barricade and stage separating the two of you was a dream made in heaven. 

He sings your favorite song, looking out into the crowd, body drenched in sweat from the high energy show as he jumps to the beat. He pauses to hit a long note and while the guitar riffs he looks into the VIP section. You swear you feel as if he is looking dead at you. The next few lyrics are packed full with emotion as he gets onto his knee, one hand holding the microphone while the other gently floats towards outstretched hands. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

But it's yours that his fingers brush, intertwining his fingers with yours as tears prick your eyes. 

"Mine. Forever miiinee~" 

The world stops, his silky voice smoothing over your skin before it erupts in goose flesh, he holds on to your hand as he sings the chorus again. The screaming people around you fade away as you hear nothing but his sultry voice. 

As if he were serenading you in the kitchen of your home. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

"Mine. Forever miiinee~"

He squeezes your hand as he finishes the note, releasing your hand slowly before starting to stand. The music begins to fade as he huffs, trying to catch his breath before looking over the band. He sees that ever might need just a second more to take in some water so he brings the mic close to his face as he shouts. 

"Are we having a good time tonight?!" 

The crowd erupts into a scream, so loud you can barely hear the one tearing up your throat. 

"I can't fucking hear you, extras!" Bakugou shouts into his own mic. The sold out stadium shakes rivaling the bass of the sound system as they all play off random notes and beats. When the deafening roar becomes a hushed, dull roar Bakugou sets the beat, Jiro and Denki join in as their most popular song begins to bump through the speakers. The song sets a heavy, hype beat that can get anyone to bang their head to. You start along with them, booze lighting up your system and causing you to ignore the charged air around you  

Some of the bystanders, some of the women especially were jealous of the fact that you were holding hands with none other than the DARK SHADOW. 

"Stupid bitch." They murmur amongst themselves, "Let's really fuck her up." 

One says before shoving her unsuspecting and overly excitable boyfriend into another guy while shouting. 

"MOSH PIT!" The crowd follows suit, putting you in the thick of it. Normally you could handle a little mosh, staying on the fringes to avoid too much damage but being in the center was beginning to spell trouble. The world spun as body after body began to slam into you, turning you this way and that before someone begins to take advantage of the situation. A sleazy guy you had hoped to avoid "falls" into you, rough palms grabbing a handful of your ass, beneath your skirt. A yelp lost to the crowd leaves your lips, tears burning in your eyes as this man set out to ruin what was possibly the highlight of your life. 

He was going to ruin it with his disgusting cigarette breath, lips sloppily kissing at your throat as he moved the two of you closer to the barricade. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading your cheeks as he shouts into your ear. 

"These fishnets for me slut?" He slurs, chuckling as he presses your back into the cool biting metal, "Love the crop top baby, do you got a bra on underneath?" 

A sob threatens to rack through your body as your elated high quickly turns into stomach churning nausea. Desperately you look up to the stage, anything to distract you from the fingers that try to venture between your thighs, while the other rips at your favorite top.

Tokoyami jumps, stopping to adjust his feet for steady ground to do the screaming part of the song, he glances down into the crowd, silently looking for you. The woman who made his heart flutter for the first time in years and when he sees your face tilted up towards him with fear and pain twisting your features he loses his cool. 

"Fucking stop!" He shouts, the lyrics gone for now as the music abruptly stops, the man holding you startles as the light follows Dark Shadow's accusing finger. He is illuminated by the stage light as bystanders rip him from you, he punches one guy and makes a run for it. 

 "Aye yo security. Get this asshole!" Dark Shadow shouts, leaning down for your now outstretched arms. Pulling you on stage with ease as his fingers flutter over your shoulders and sides for injuries.

"You okay my sparrow?" He coos softly and you nod, and he guides you towards the back of the stage, leaving the two front members to appease the excited crowd. He presses a cold water bottle to your hand before pulling up a chair a few feet from the drum kit. 

"Stay by Bakugou okay? He'll take care of you." He wipes some sweat from your face before squeezing the nape of your neck. Bakugou glares your way with mixed emotions before doing his show starting beat to get the crowd jumping. 

"Anyone else wanna act like a fucking douche?" Denki asks, walking up and down the front of the stage waiting for Tokoyami to return to the forefront. 

"NOOOOO!" The crowd shouts, Denki offers a cheeky smile before adding. 

"That's my good fans!" He blows a kiss to the crowd and the screams fly up an octave. 

"Alright let's start this shit from the top!" Jiro shouts, letting out some hypnotic notes before looking towards Tokoyami. 

"Actually, let's give them a sample of the new album. Let's give them a tease. Do you wanna be teased?" He asks the crowd aiming the mic towards them as if he needed to. 

"SHOW US! TEASE US!" The crowd chants before Tokoyami looks towards his band members. 

"I dunno do they deserve it?" Bakugou prodes and the audience lets out a dejected whine. 

"Promise to behave?" Jiro teases and the crowd collectively screams out desperately "YES!"

"Well keep your hands to yourself and listen up cause you're only gonna hear it this once til it drops!" Tokoyami shouts before Jiro starts playing that hypnotic sound, shortly after Denki joins in. Bakugou twisting his drumstick as he waits for his cue impatiently. Dark Shadow takes in a deep breath before singing the haunting first lines of their new song. 

"What do you do, when it's stalking after yoouuu? What do you say when it's just a breath awaaay~? Coming closer and you can't seem to get awaaaaay?" 

"Always watching, always loooomming-" 

Bakugou slams his sticks down hard onto the kit, foot tapping the bass drum at an alarming speed as everything seems to be hitting a climax. 

"WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN ITS COMING FROM INSIDE OF YOU? WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN IT SHARES YOUR NAAAAME? 

WHEN YOU CAN'T HIDE THE DEMON THAT'S LURKING INSIDE!" 

The last line he screams and the crowd is overcome with emotion. The height of the music and the new song that the band pours their hearts into, sends the crowd into a frenzy. Sweat dripping from everyone as their black shirts dampen around their collars. 

The song the crowd wanted to last forever comes to an end and you find yourself standing to scream, tears in your eyes.

"That was amazing!" Curling your fingers into a fist, Dark Shadow turns back to see you, out of the millions of people there tonight, in that moment he could only hear you.  

"Well I think we gave them a good show huh?" Denki asks into the mic, Bakugou drums a heavy beat as he shouts. 

"FUCK YEA WE DID!" 

"HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!!" The band members shout in unison before waving and slowly backing off stage. Tokoyami rushes towards you, hand slipping around your natural waist as he guides you into the darkened stage towards his dressing room. Your heart is racing in your ears as the silence becomes deafening. Being this close to Dark Shadow you couldn't help but notice the little cushion that keeps his helmet from damaging his throat and the intoxicating smell that rolls off of him like a cool breeze. He smells like cedar and pine at twilight while the wind brings with it the threat of snow. 

You shiver despite the warmth of his touch. Swallowing the lump in your throat you force your tongue to cooperate as he steps in front of his door politely opening it for you. His small silver chains clink from the motion.

"You must be tired, are you sure you want...company?" If you could see his face you imagined he'd be smiling. Pressing his hand at the small of your back to urge you inside. 

"I'm sure." He walks in, waiting for you to follow before he slumps onto a worn leather arm chair. Your platform converse move on their own as you cross the threshold of the room, closing the door behind you. 

"Lock it, would you sparrow?" All you can do is nod as you turn the lock until you hear a soft click. He gestures for you to sit on the couch beside him before his broad hands go towards his helmet. 

The blood rushes from your face as a moment of honor and horror wage war in your gut, pulling your heart down towards your feet. 

"Wait!" You shout, startling both of you and you feel heat rise into your cheeks and throat, "I don't want you to feel obligated to take it off. We can just...talk." 

Nervously you fidget with the hem of your skirt, thinking he was going to kick you out for being so lame. 

Boring. 

He stands and you flinch before he sits beside you on the love seat. If you could see his eyes you wondered if they were sparkling. His winter woods smell tickles your nose and you smile. 

"I'd love to just talk. But first." He must notice your ripped shirt as he stands again. Rummaging through his suitcase to find the first edition band tee ever made for TOKYO MOB.

"I couldn't!" You half shout and then squeak, "I shouldn't" 

"I insist." He says softly placing it on your lap before giving you his toned back. The cropped tee he wears shows off the dimples in his lower back that has you thinking of what it would look like while those hips piston into you. Quickly you toss your ripped shirt aside and slip his over your head, relishing the present smell, heart stirring.

"It's safe." You say softly and he turns around taking the seat beside you again. 

After a small awkward silence the two of you begin to talk, the conversation coming easy as you gushed over his voice and where you went to college when he asked. Him wanting to know more about your life and the night ended up being about you instead of him for once and it was nice. 

Nice to not have someone prying or clawing at his neck to find out just who he was and what he looked like, suddenly heat rushes to his pants. His hand comes to rest on your knee just below the hem of your skirt, ringed fingers sliding beneath the black fabric. You swallow, looking into the face of the bird mask and softly speak. 

"How- how would we kiss?" It feels stupid, embarrassing that you would even think that. He kills the light by the love seat flooding the room in total darkness before he takes off his helmet with a clatter. 

"Like this." His lips are by your ear now sending ecstacy through your body in the form of a spine tingling shudder. He kisses at your lobe working his way down your throat and then up to your jaw, avoiding your lips as he tastes every inch of you he can. His damp hair tickles your nose as he moves you to him, hovering over you as he kisses the plane of your stomach beneath his lifted shirt. 

"You look damn good in my shirt baby." He trails his tongue up your sternum causing you to moan, he smirks against the bone before sucking at the supple skin of your breast. Choosing them for his canvas to paint in blacks and blues that you would soon come to wish would last a life time. His free hand twists your nipple, pulling it as he scrapes his teeth against your other. Tongue flicking against the sensitive nub another moan escapes your lips as he plays with you for what feels like hours. He doesn't even go to touch your aching cunt until you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Begging for his hands to move lower as your vision spots in the dark from his sensual touch alone. Your own hands explore up his defined abs and torso occasionally catching the cool metal of his chains, this time you decide to pull him into a kiss. Your lips touching his for the first time all night and you feel like a live wire. Hungrily and aggressively trying to devour him as you feel music dancing through your blood, humming in your bones, he groans amplifying the feeling as his clothed hard on presses into your core. His tongue swipes over yours and the thought of not even knowing what he looks like arches your back into his touch. 

Finally he flips your skirt up, his fingers venturing between your thighs and when he finds no fabric and the satisfying sound of your slick he bucks his hips, biting at your breasts. 

"So wet sparrow…." His voice is soft breath and a little desperate causing your cunt to clench. He circles your clit until you're crying, his fingers occasionally checking for a stream of tears. When he feels the droplets on your face he chuckles shoving his fingers knuckle deep going agonizingly slow until you're fluttering around his thick curled digits. You cum hard and he whispers praises in your ear, several times as your body shakes and you think you won't be able to make it through the night. 

"Ready for my cock babe?" He asks gently swiping his thumb over your swollen and heavily abused clit. You perk right up, ready for the finale silently thanking the gods for a band members stamina. You notice him shaking as he leans down for a kiss, his stomach sweaty and sticking to yours. You fist his hair, pulling him back just a bit. 

"You'll be okay?" You can just make out the gleam of his teeth from his smirk before his voice comes out as pure sinful husk. 

"The question is, will you sweet sparrow?" 

Too stunned to answer he swallows your silence with a kiss before he sheaths himself inside you. Relishing the moan in his mouth and the fluttering of your velvet walls as they adjust to him. You were so wet, so ready for him as he slowly rocked his hips. Your half wish from earlier coming true as your hands fly to the dimples of his lower back, trying to urge him to quicken his pace but he keeps it languid, deadly. Each stroke hitting with purpose. The head of his cock hitting that cushy spot as his pelvis snapped against your clit. The sensation sends you into a never ending moan. Each gasp his stage name as he marks you as his, nails raking down your arms as he praises. 

"Such a nice pussy you have. Taking me so fucking well." He lingers by your ear, his tone the opposite of his lustful words. Your own nails claw down his back in viscous lines as he keeps you on the edge. The coil, steady and tight as you feel the pressure in your stomach growing. He can feel how tightly you're squeezing him and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He press his fingers into your stomach as his thumb swipes over your clit, his hips snapping faster and faster as he waits for what he hopes is coming. The pressure becomes too much he overstimulates your body, shaking as you cry out. 

"I can't, I can't…" 

"You can, just for me. Don't be shy, cum for me baby." His deep voice sends a chill through your body, you go rigid, quiet before your body jerks and releases a clear liquid onto his pelvis and cock. Shaking as he fucks your through it before his voice comes out strained as you milk him. 

"Imma cum baby, where do you want it?" 

"In me, I promise I have an IUD just fucking cum Dark Shadow!" You gasp and he obeys, adding to your pleasant after shocks, filling you to the brim with his hot seed with a husky grunt. He collapses onto you fixing your shirt before he gently withdraws, keeping his face to your chest as your fingers find his hair. You try not to let your thoughts wander and as if he could read your mind. 

"I promise you, you're the only one who's made me do that." He kisses your throat gently before his hand searches for your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours before he hums. Slowly singing you to sleep. You welcome the feeling as exhaustion blankets you in darkness.

"Uh miss." The voice comes as a shock as a large man tries to wake you from a distance. You startle, grabbing at blankets to cover yourself although you're fully clothed.  

"Hate to wake you miss but we're locking up. The venue is closed and the band is…" Although he looks a brute he clearly has some sort of heart. Unable to say what you know.  

"Gone." Tears burn your eyes as you think of how stupid you were. To ever think you were special enough to be anything more than a groupie. A note sits on the bedside table. 

"Should we cross paths again, Sparrow. I'll make you forever mine" 

The note blurs as you recognize the lyrics to the song. You look down at his band tee and wonder if your favorite song was more of a gimmick to pick up fans than some fated promise. 

And so life moves on.

You can only tell that time has passed from the fading color of your bruises. Slowly they melt from a cold bluish black into cool greens and warm dotted yellows. You sigh, looking in the mirror before you head towards your room for clothes.  Finally mustering up the courage to wear that stupid band tee he gave you again. It still smells faintly of him, of the winter woods suspended in forever twilight. Of musk from your sweat and his. You fight back the tears as you remind yourself you just put on mascara, finally choosing to participate in a social life after having your heart broken for being a fool. You decided to get ready sooner rather than later, otherwise you would have backed out from the plans and mopped around the house. You figured some coffee would help kill the time as you lace up your converse thinking of your favorite shop. You head out and walk leisurely to the cafe off the beaten path of downtown.  The street is full but not overly so as people browse the shopping district of the huge city you call home. Everyone fades into the background until your eye catches against a handsome man, dressed in tastefully torn black jeans, and an onyx turtleneck. You would be concerned for his attire in this weather if he wasn't so damn handsome. You must catch his eye as well as his face instantly lights up when he makes eye contact. He beats you to the cafe door, holding it open for you with ringed fingers like a gentleman waiting for you to enter. The gesture feels familiar causing your heart to squeeze in your chest, feeling trapped beneath your too small rib cage. As you walk past him you think you smell something familiar. 

Like cedar and pine, dancing on a snowy wind as the sun sets the world on fire. 

Your world on fire as you grip at the front of Dark Shadow's shirt trying not to cry. You just wanted your fucking macchiato and to move on with your life. You had lived every fan's dream of sleeping with your favorite band member. Tasting Dark Shadow's blackberry mouth. Shouldn't that be enough? 

Your aching heart said otherwise. 

Suddenly warmth is behind you, radiating off of a thick body as the handsome man bends over to put his profile to your ear. Goose flesh prickles your skin in late August as he says with a voice that drapes you in sinful black silk.

"You look damn good in my shirt, sparrow." 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 17

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 17: Amelia turns to faith for help, Danny Owens gets his nickname in the trenches

            Max found Polly in the betting shop one morning. “Auntie Pol, mummy’s gotten sick again.”

            “It’s okay, love. It’s natural.” Polly assured the little boy. “Come sit with me, I’m sure she’ll be down in a moment.”

            “’Cause of the baby?” He asked, climbing up onto Polly’s lap as she worked in her office.

            “Yes, darling. But she’ll be alright.”

            They had told Max about the baby a little while after they got Tommy’s letter back. Though it was bittersweet, Tommy remarked that he was happy and hoped that he would be home soon. Though he didn’t give false hope about being there in time for the birth. At that point in Amelia’s pregnancy, everyone had given up hope on that happening. Especially as more news about the war hit the homefront. And more men were starting to come back.

            It was horrifying. Men burned, deformed, missing limbs. Their stories started to circulate around Birmingham, the things they’d seen. The things they’d done, what others had done. The horrors they’d witnessed. Knowing the Shelby boys were in the middle of all of that, made Amelia sick to her stomach. She began to go to church with Polly every week. But it never seemed to be enough, so she started to go multiple times a week, sometimes every morning. Even when there was no service, she would go and sit in the empty church and pray.

            She was never particularly religious. Her parents seemed indifferent to the church, as they were more focused on succeeding in life. They never saw prayer or submission to God as a way to move up in the world.

            Amelia felt almost guilty that she was trying to use religion. Trying to comfort herself with prayers to a God she never really believed in. But at that point, she felt so helpless that she needed to do something.

            The priest of the church began to recognize her as she went to church more often. He offered to sit with her for company.

            At first, Amelia just agreed to let him sit with her. Then, she began to tell him about her fears and her doubts.

            Telling a man of the cloth about her lack of faith was a bit funny to her. But Father Carr didn’t seem to mind.   

            “Sometimes I think that it’s all just a cruel joke,” Amelia admitted one day. Max was with Martha and the betting shop was quiet, so she took the free time to visit the church. “To take Tommy away from me while I’m pregnant.”

            “Some things are hard to explain. We ask why God would allow for war to happen. We ask why he allows hardship in our lives. It is beyond our knowledge. Sometimes, religion doesn’t have all the answers like some people think.”

            Amelia looked up at the stained-glass windows that allowed some of the dim light to come in. The particles of light mixed with the hazy smoke from the candles lit at the altar. “I just want him to come home to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Danny Owens was the first in the Small Heath group to get seriously injured. While out of the tunnels, in one of the trenches, he was hit by a piece of an artillery shell.

            “For fuck’s sake, if you’re gonna get injured, don’t get hit in the neck,” Arthur said as he held a shirt to Danny’s wound right at the base of his neck.

            “It just grazed me,” Danny replied, trying his best to stay calm and breathe.

            “It’ll be okay.” John kept him propped up so he wouldn’t bleed to death.

            They all learned early on that no one liked tunnelers. They were seen as a danger if they were nearby. So, no one liked to see them in the trenches. That meant they had to take care of themselves and each other.

            “Hold ‘im still,” Jeremiah commanded as he examined the wound, dowsing it in alcohol.

            Danny let out a scream through his gritted teeth as he fought John and Arthur’s hold.

            “No more getting hit with whizz-bangs, Danny,” Tommy commanded, holding Danny’s feet down so he didn’t kick anyone.

            “Yeah, or else we’ll start calling ya that.” John grinned.

            The men chuckled, even getting a bit of a smile from Danny. “Alright.”  

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            It became clear after the first trimester, that this pregnancy would not be as easy as Max’s had been. Amelia began to have spells of dizziness and nausea that could last for days. Polly said it was because of stress, so she tried her best to keep the woman calm and at ease. But there was nothing she could do about the boys still being over in France.

            Everyone was frightened, even Amelia although she wouldn’t admit it. She felt afraid that she was failing her second child before they were even born.

            Max was starting to pick up on the anxiety around his mother and became very clingy to her. He would wail and cry if she was even in the next room. She couldn’t leave him for more than half an hour before he would panic. He began to sleep in her bed, terrified she would disappear in the middle of the night.

            “He doesn’t want you to go anywhere.” Polly surmised one afternoon when Amelia could finally get the young boy to go down for a nap. “He remembers Tommy leaving so he doesn’t want you to leave either.”

            Amelia felt so helpless. She couldn’t even comfort her own child because the world was in such chaos.

            Polly had to stop her from reading the news or listening to the radio. She wrote to Tommy telling him to keep his letters to his wife light. She said Amelia couldn’t handle any bad news.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            On Max’s sixth birthday, Amelia tried her best to keep everything together. She threw together a party. Polly closed the shop for the day and all their friends and family gathered. Well, the friends and family that were still there and not serving overseas.

            Amelia bought toys for Max, some she signed ‘daddy’, just so her son felt like Tommy was near. He had already sent a letter wishing his son a happy birthday and wishing he could be there to celebrate. Max seemed sad his father couldn’t come to attend the party, but it wasn’t any different to any ordinary day. It had been over a year since the Shelby boys had left. Next March would mark two years.

            On the morning of the party, Amelia found Max looking at a picture of Tommy in his uniform.

            “You alright, love?” She asked softly. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

            “Yeah.” He replied quietly, his mind off wandering.

            “What are you doing with daddy’s picture?” She wondered.

            “Dunno. Just looking.” He shrugged, not looking away. “Don’t wanna forget what he looks like.”

            Amelia couldn’t shake that feeling of heartache the rest of the day. Even during the festivities and among familiar faces. She felt utterly alone.

            After Max had opened all his gifts, everyone was sitting in the parlor enjoying each other’s company. Amelia felt distant, standing near the couch, half-listening to the conversations around her.

            Then, she picked up on a conversation Charlie was having with one of the Strong men who had come to celebrate with them.

            “Yeah, right on Farringdon. Those fuckers.” Charlie muttered. “Twenty-two people dead. Only a matter of time they set their sights on Birmingham.”

            “For fuck’s sake.” The other man shook his head. “Thought this was a war among countries, not a war on the innocents. They wanna bomb each other, go ahead, but they can’t be fucking bombing regular people like us.”

            Without having much access to the news under Polly’s advice, Amelia hadn’t heard of the bombings or attempted bombings on British soil. Suddenly, shock and panic overtook her entire body. It felt like her heart stopped completely and her vision went black.

            Luckily, Charlie was able to catch the pregnant woman before she hit her head on the coffee table. The party ceased the fun and immediately rushed to Amelia’s aid. Polly shoved to the front and checked on her.

            “Call a doctor!” She shouted when she saw Amelia’s pale face.

            Max began to cry for his mum as Ada comforted her nephew best she could.

            Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[sheerbeautyreigns]

DESIRE

Part 32

It was almost 12pm when Joe was returning from his run. It was so refreshing running in the countryside. Back home in Tampa, he’d normally run on the beach. It gave him plenty of time to just think about things between him and Paul but one thought he couldn’t shake was his conversation with Drew. He hated that he wouldn’t be able to spend time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Paul’s car in the driveway. He thought it’d be another while before he would be back. He unlocked the front door and kicked off his Nikes.

Paul was sat at his laptop in the living room when Joe entered. “Hey.” He said looking up from the screen.

“You’re back early.” Joe said approaching him. “Yeah it didn’t take as long as I thought. Good run?” Paul said eyeing the sheen on Joe skin. “Yeah, great. It’s so nice out here, the greenery. So peaceful.”

Paul smiled “I have some good news for you baby.” He said clasping his hands together on the desk. “What would you say to another run at the Universal Championship?” Joe eyes lit up momentarily “It’d be great but Drew’s feuding with Bray right now? I thought he was set to become the number one contender?”

“Right now yes but I’m talking Summerslam.” Paul said leaning back in his chair.

“That’s only a few weeks away?” Joe was confused. “Creative proposed a triple threat match next Monday night. They want you in the mix.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything to warrant it.” Joe eyes followed Paul’s as he rose to his feet.

“Oh you’ve done plenty.” He said in his gravelly tone, pulling Joe against his body. “Was this your decision?”

“I might’ve pulled a few strings.” An uneasy look crossed Joe face. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy?”

“I am, It’s just…” He started. Paul stepped back and looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to come off as being ungrateful but I just don’t want hand outs just because we’re fucking.”

“So what? Everyone knows how much you bust your ass every week and it’s been almost a year since you had a shot at the title.” Joe pursed his lips. “It’s nothing to do with Drew at all?”

“What are you talking about?” Paul was getting annoyed now. “Well I know you didn’t like things between us two...” Joe hated bringing this up but it seemed too obvious. Drew had been happy with his push and there was a lot of talk saying he was due to become the champion for the first time.

“This is not fucking about Drew!” He said raising his hand to slap him across the cheek only to have Joe block him. The young man was seething, his eyes wide with anger.

“You were gonna hit me! Again!?” Joe backed up and left the room with Paul in hot pursuit. “Baby I’m sorry!” He said following him up into his room. “I let my temper get the best of me!” He watched helplessly as Joe flung open his suitcase and threw his belongings in. “I told you I’d be outta here if you tried that shit again.”

“What was I supposed to do? You were pissing me off!” Paul said grabbing his arm and spinning him around. Joe stumbled, falling onto the bed. Paul immediately pinned him down by the shoulders. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He said firmly “I swear it won’t happen again.”

“Get the fuck off me!” Joe could feel tears forming in his eyes as he struggled to his feet. Paul exhaled heavily as Joe threw the last of his things into his suitcase and zipped it shut. He carried it out of the room and proceeded down the stairs. “Where the hell are you gonna go?”

“Away from you!” Paul could hear the shakiness in his voice now. Quickly he produced his phone and called a local cab company but it just rang out. “Look, let me take you.” Joe stood with his head bowed, a frustrated look on his face. “I’ll take you to the airport if that’s what you want?” Joe nodded, refusing to look at him. Paul grabbed his keys that were on the small table nearby and opened the door wide for him. Joe walked out.

Although the drive to the airport was only around 15 miles, it felt painfully slow. Both men didn’t utter a word. Paul chose to put the radio on to break the uncomfortable silence. Joe was trying his damnedest to hold back his tears. His stomach sank as they pulled into the departures area. He felt he would lose it at any moment. He hoped the airport wouldn’t be too busy for a Monday afternoon. He took out his shades and slid them on as Paul parked. “Thanks,” Joe uttered before getting out of the car. Paul felt so defeated. He looked in the rear view mirror and Joe pulled his suitcase out of the trunk and closed it. The best thing for him to do now was just leave.

Joe spent the next few days working on his place and catching up with his family. He felt heartbroken at how things had changed between him and Paul so quickly but he made himself a promise to get out if it happened again. He hadn’t heard anything from Paul either. Maybe it was the best thing for both of them. Scrolling through Instagram, he saw a post from Drew with his cat which made him smile. Impulsively, he called him.

“Hello?” came Drew’s voice. “Hey” Joe padded around his living room. “I just wanted to call and say sorry about how I acted on Monday. There was no need.”

“S”ok, don’t worry about it.” He was always so laid back. “How you doing?”

“I’m OK. I’m in Tampa now.” He hesitated before going on “I…I ended up leaving Paul’s early…”

“Is everything alright?” The Scot asked cautiously. “You were right about him. I wish I had listened to you.”

“Did he hurt you?” He asked with alarm. “No but he was going to. I left in time.”

“Shit man, sorry to hear but I’m glad you’re OK. Is there anything I can do?” He offered. “I’m OK, I just wanted to call and apologise. Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I was just packing when you called.” He responded. “Cool well I guess I”ll see you tomorrow.”

“I”ll look forward to it.”

Joe arrived in Phoenix for Smackdown the following afternoon. There were a number of familiar faces when he arrived. He went out to the ring to run things through with the team. Turns out he would interfere in a No Disqualification match between Drew and Bray. He would run in and attack his old foe Bray with a chair leading Drew to get the win. It seemed the story was going towards a triple threat Universal Title match at Summerslam, according to creative.

Joe was surprised it was still happening after what had happened with Paul but he went with it. The crowd loved it and he got a huge pop. Bray was doing a great job being the heel throughout his feud with Babyface Drew and for all they cared, Bray got what was coming to him after his sneak attacks on Drew over the past couple of weeks.

After his match, Joe went to his locker room. He proceeded in getting undressed to quickly shower when Colby walked in. He hadn’t seen him since Raw the week before. He attempted to look at him but he actually felt nervous. Probably because he knew that Colby would ignore him after all the shit they gave each other over the past few weeks. He was opening his locker when Joe finally spoke. Colby was always too stubborn to make the first move. “Hey, you OK?” He actually looked around as he took out his rucksack. “Yeah, good. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“I’ve had some time away.” Joe said forcing a small smile. He was just happy that Colby actually answered him. “What are you up to?”

“What, now?” He asked, leading Joe to nod. “Actually gonna chill out. Just tired. You know how busy it gets on the run up to Summerslam…”

For the first time in a long time, Joe felt awkward talking to him. It felt like they could never be friends like they used to be.

“Well I’m gonna head. Good to see you back.” Joe felt so defeated, watching him leave. He wanted to tell him that he was no longer with Paul. Maybe that would help get their friendship back on track. He just had to be patient.

Later after Joe had checked into his hotel, he was answering some emails when his phone rang. He froze, seeing Paul’s photo on the screen. He hesitated before answering.

“Hey,” He said lowly.

“I was hoping I’d catch you before you left the Arena.” Paul started. Joe shifted on the sofa, hearing his voice for the first time in days. It did something to him.

“I just wanted to get back to my hotel room. Didn’t really wanna stick around.” He said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you OK? I mean, you looked good out there tonight but…I wanna, talk.” Those three words made Joe stomach sink. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you.” Joe confessed.

“Why not?” Paul questioned. “I was pretty pissed when I left on Monday.” Joe said pulling his knees up to his chest.

“I wanted to give you some time. I was hoping we could talk this through?” Paul sounded hopeful. “Are you staying at the Hilton?”

“Yeah.” Joe answered with hesitation. “So am I if you wanna meet in my room? I just think it’s better in person.”

Joe wanted to be mature about this. “What room are you in?”

“475. End of the hall.” Paul informed him. “OK. I’ll be up soon.” Joe got up and started pacing around the room regretting his answer. He would have to see him in person again at some point so regardless of the outcome, he just wanted to get it over with.

Gingerly, Joe entered Paul’s suite while the older man looked him over. He looked good in his navy suit and crisp white shirt. Joe could feel his eyes on him.

“Would you like a drink?” Paul offered, gesturing for him to have a seat on the sofa. “I’m OK. Thanks.” Paul lowered to the sofa but kept a distance to make sure that Joe was comfortable. “Listen, I’m just going to cut to the chase. I’ve been thinking a lot about us over the past few days. You mean more to me than I could have imagined and I don’t want to lose you. I want you back.”

Joe swallowed at his confession as his eyes met Paul’s. He could see how sincere he was. “I’m not enough for you. We both know that.”

“What do you mean? You are enough. I was so happy when you were at mine. Granted, I didn’t always show it but I was the happiest I’d been for a while.”

“I dunno,” Joe said leaning back a little on the sofa. “Sometimes, you scare me. Your temper…” There was an uneasy look in his eyes. “I know, baby, I know. I’m working on it. After I left you off at the airport, I was so pissed off with myself for losing it again. I don’t wanna be that guy.” Paul said inching closer, placing his hand on Joe leg. The young man could feel his cock stirring at Paul’s touch. He shifted his position trying not to make it obvious.

“What about the dynamic we had?”

“What about it? I was happy with the way things were with you that last day. I was so happy with how you were just going with it. That was what I was working towards.”

“I was trying. Sometimes, I just feel I’m not enough…”

“Believe it or not, that’s how I want you to feel. It sounds strange but It’s good that the submissive doesn’t always feel like they’re good enough. Like, having low self worth.” Paul explained. He felt he was starting to get somewhere. Joe gave him a questioning look. “Why’s that a good thing?”

“Because it gives me, the dominant, more power in the relationship. Look, I know it can be a bit confusing at times and you’re still new to this but I don’t want to do this with anyone else.” Joe hesitated a moment as Paul searched his eyes, waiting for an answer. “OK.” Paul’s face lit up. “On one condition.”

“Just tell me.” Paul leaned in closer to him.

“You lose it again, I want out. You let me go. For good.” This lead Paul to nod in agreement. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

[allsassnoclass]

OKAYYYY here we go: “First second I saw you and I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.” mashton!!! steer that mashton ship baby xoxo bella

hm theoretically this would be a fluffy prompt but this is not a fluffy fic. subversion of expectations, baby!

mashton: “First second I saw you and I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.”

Michael hasn't shared a room with Ashton in what feels like a very long time.  It's just easier to share with Luke or Calum instead, in the same way that it's easier to hang out with Luke and Calum, or talk to Luke and Calum, or exist in general outside of Ashton's proximity.  At every opportunity, he claims one of the others as his roommate, and typically Aston does the same.

They're both pretending that they don't notice.

It's not that Michael doesn't like Ashton as much as the other two, but it's harder to act normally around him since they almost kissed.

It just... had seemed like the thing to do.  Michael has long since acknowledged the fact that he has a crush, and he can recognize flirting when it happens.  To an extent, they all flirt with each other, but with Ashton it felt different.  Ashton doesn't typically drape himself all over them like the others do, but there have been these little touches that linger longer than should be normal, gentle brushes against Michael's arms or the back of his neck that make the hair on his arms stand on end.  There have been looks, too.  Ashton doesn't zone out while looking at people like Michael does, but that doesn't mean that Michael hasn't felt his eyes on him while they're hanging out.  Sometimes he has looked away by the time Michael turns to face him, but sometimes he catches him.

When he's caught, Ashton maintains eye contact, even if he's blushing.  Sometimes he winks.  Michael almost always looks away first.  That hasn't changed, even though everything else in their relationship now feels stiff and awkward.

Maybe Michael is the only one feeling it.  Maybe Ashton hadn't noticed that he was leaning in, even though it feels like they haven't had a direct conversation since it happened.

It had been late at night, because of course it was.  Michael's best and worst decisions are always made sometime between 2 and 5 in the morning.  Michael had wandered down to the kitchen, hoping for a late night snack and instead finding Ashton sitting on the floor, notebook in front of him.

"Hey," Michael said.  "Why are you up?"

"Thought I had something to say, but it's shit," Ashton said.  "What about you?"

"Dunno," Michael said, opening the fridge, hating everything he saw in there, and closing it again.  In the end, he just got a glass of water and sat next to Ashton.  The silence stretched between them for a bit, but Michael wasn't in a rush to break it.  Silences with Ashton have always been comfortable.

"I just wish I was better at this," Ashton said suddenly.

"What?"

"This whole... music thing."

"What are you talking about?"

Ashton shrugged, then gestured to his notebook, since closed.

"I can't write.  I want to, and I feel like I have stuff to say, but I'm just not good at it.  You'd think that after this long in a band I'd have picked something up."

"Ashton, you helped write our biggest hit to date," Michael said.  "You know, the one that was played on the radio all the time?  That was you."

"That was Jake and you."

"Shut up," Michael said.  "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, because you're being an idiot.  Stop being so mean to yourself."

Ashton huffed a laugh.

"You're very comforting."

"Yeah, well, someone has to be," Micheal joked, bumping their shoulders together.  "Seriously, though, I can't reason with you when you're like this.  Everyone writes really shit stuff sometimes.  You can't produce too many hits or no one else would ever get any radio time."

"If you say so," Ashton said, but it was lighter than it had been.

"I do say so, and I'm always right, so you have to listen to me."

Ashton snorted, and that's what Michael had been looking for.  It wasn't derisive, it was a release.

"I will just this once, but know that it's against my better judgement," he said.

"Ha, ha."

Ashton had turned to Michael and smiled, just a little.

"I really appreciate you, you know?" he said.  "I know we all joke otherwise a lot, but you're really important to me, Mikey."

Michael swallowed, startled at the sudden change in atmosphere and steadiness of Ashton's gaze.

"I appreciate you, too."

There was that hint of a smile again, and the same weight in Ashton's gaze that appeared so often when he was looking at Michael.

Ashton's eyes had flickered down to his lips.  Michael's heart started beating double time, quick and powerful like one of Ashton's drumbeats.  Ashton swallowed.

Michael still doesn't know what had made him lean in, but he knows that it was the wrong choice.  Ashton had reared back, then immediately scrambled to his feet with a quick excuse about trying to sleep.  That had been weeks ago, right before tour restarted, and now Michael has to figure out how to survive the night in a hotel room with only Ashton for company.

Michael kills as much time outside of the room as possible, dreading having to retire for the night.  He hates Calum and Luke for immediately choosing to room with each other tonight.  He hates Ashton for pulling away and making things weird.  He hates himself for misreading things and leaning in in the first place.

Eventually he has to sleep, but only after a full minute of staring at the door with his key in hand, trying to psych himself up.

Ashton is laying on his bed with the TV on, but he's scrolling on his phone instead of watching.  He glances up immediately, offering Michael a strained smile.

"I'm going to shower," Michael says before Ashton has a chance to open his mouth.  He spends the next half hour in the bathroom, hoping that Ashton isn't insulted by how obvious he's being in his avoidance.

The lights are off when he gets back to the main room, and Michael finds himself relieved and strangely disappointed that Ashton didn't wait up.  He doesn't want to have to talk about what happened, but maybe they could've tiptoed around it in a way that wasn't excruciating.  Just because he doesn't want to talk to Ashton doesn't mean he can't miss him.

He slips under the covers, fully aware of the fact that sleep is not going to come easy tonight.  Ashton shifts in the other bed, lighting all of Michael's nerves on fire, and he feels the anxiety rise in him.

"Michael?" Ashton asks.  Michael considers staying silent, but it's much too soon for him to have fallen asleep and deliberately ignoring Ashton would be cruel, even if this is probably the rejection talk he's been dreading.

"Yeah," he sighs, defeated.

"I wanted to kiss you, too."

What?

Michael turns over, but he can't see anything in the darkness of the room.

"That's what was happening, right?"  Ashton asks.  "You were trying to kiss me?"

"Uh, yeah," Michael says.

"I didn't pull back because I didn't want you to kiss me.  First second I saw you and I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.  I've had a massive crush on you this whole time, but I don't think it would be a good idea."

Michael swallows.

"Why not?"

He waits for what feels like forever until Ashton speaks again.

"The band.  If something went wrong, it'd change everything.  This--you, the boys, the music--means everything to me.  I can't risk that."

"I thought you've been trying to be optimistic," Michael says.

"Sometimes you have to be realistic instead."

Michael clenches his jaw and attempts to keep the whirlpool in the back of his throat down.

"I think..." he starts, then has to take a steadying breath, "I think it would've been nicer if you let me keep thinking you didn't like me, instead of telling me you do just to reject me anyway.  And I think you're wrong.  You're not being realistic, you're just being a coward."

"Michael--"

"I don't want to talk to you about this anymore."  He throws back the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed.  "I'm going to sleep in Luke and Calum's room."

"Mike, wait--"

"Do you think you could change your mind?" he asks.  "Could you agree to give this a chance instead of deciding it'll be a disaster right away, or would I be fighting a loosing battle?"

Ashton is silent.  It's all the answer that he needs.

"I'm going to sleep with Luke and Cal.  See you tomorrow."

He leaves the room without another word, squinting in the jarring light of the hallway.

What the fuck was that?

Michael clenches his fists, then releases.  It does nothing to ease everything swirling inside him, a confusing concoction that he doesn't want to think about or make sense of.

What the fuck?

Luke and Calum's door is right there, but he can't bring himself to knock yet, too much energy thrumming through his veins.  He wants to scream.  He wants to punch something.  He wants to cry.

He wants to break onto the roof, and if he can't find a way to do that he's going to keep walking up and down the stairs until everything threatening to bubble up feels manageable again.

He already got rejected, so theoretically it shouldn't be as bad the second time around, but it is.  The first time Michael felt like he was a fool; now he knows that Ashton doesn't think it'd be worth it, that he would be worth it.

He can't keep standing here.  He forces himself to take one step, then another, and tries to focus on that instead of the tears stinging behind his eyes.

[commonalex]

Broken Nose

-Oh my, a talking fox!

-Oh my, a talking fattie!

-Wait, what?

   I don’t know what else I could expect coming down here from the tower today. I had this bad feeling stepping into the woods for the first time. It was really on the nose.

-He he, “on the nose”. Never gets old!

-Huh?

   The fox keeps on giggling but maybe not on purpose. Judging by the dirty yellowish fur and the burnt patches on its weak body, you could say this creature has seen better days.

-Uhhh girl? Still here. I can hear, you know.

   Wherever this fox was (before it comes to horrify me) the fire must’ve get it just in time, but it doesn’t look like hurting. On the contrary, the fox is playfully stretching like a cat on the dirt. I guess I seem so damn funny (or pathetic) for it to dare to come so near. Not that I would mind some chit chat at the time, I haven’t spoke to a person (or whatever that is) for far too long. But the way it follows me around with this sarcastic laugh rubs me the wrong way.

-Come on now, foxxy, I’m seriously busy right now. I can’t afford spending time with you. Stay away and no one gets hurt, nosey.

“Nosey”? Ha ha! It’s like you already know!

-Whatever.

   I throw middle fingers and keep on my route putting in and out the batteries of my walkie talkie. No luck. Dad (or whoever was talking at the frequency I was catching from the tower) didn’t speak a word again and of course no one’s around here as far as I can see. So I already had my misery, but I guess I should come down here to play hide and seek besides still life. Thank god it’s still afternoon with the sun beaming through the trees so I am not scared shitless yet.

But still, the fire keeps on burning whatever is on its way and no one bothers if I’m burned alive or not one of those days. So here comes the panic again. I’m climbing a tree to see the valley burning a bit better, while screaming furiously on the walkie talkie in case signal comes up. I scream my lungs out, touch my throat, lose balance, slip of the trunk and fall face first. When I managed to get up blood was pouring off my nose like a fountain. I guess I knew better when I was staying in the watch tower picking my…

-...”nose”, huh? He he he. You are funny, but you really don’t listen.

   I turn around to stare at the fox in a way so it gets the message and run away from me but here it is with its eyes shining like it’s waiting for something. I walk slowly to a direction, here it is following me, here it is talking shit about me, here it is turning to go somewhere else, here I am trying to catch her from going towards the fire, and we’re back at the start. Fuck it, I say. I let her leave to stop worrying. And that’s how I get lost in here. You see, all this time I had the smoke as compass and with all this chasing I failed to notice that the fumes scattered all over the place. I raise my head to see the sun radiating this weird red-like colors. Why on earth am I still here?

-Does anybody listen on this channel? I know some of you do. Dad, can you hear me? I’m the fire lookout and try to find you all this time. If you hear me, tell me your location so I can get to you. Copy?

   I’d be damned if this walkie talkie thingy is even necessary at this point. They have probably gone deaf by my stupid screaming.

-Just hoping you understand how futile this is. It’s like the thousandth time I tell you that at this exact point, but I have my hopes that one day you will stop doing this. Mainly to yourself. Just like I have my hopes that you will stop wearing shorts that make your thighs look unevenly thick.

-Can you please help me with your mouth shut? All it takes is a second to become human torches. I don’t need your kind of silly attitude.

-Pardon me? What attitude. I said what I said for your own good. But I don’t judge you. Spending all this time trapped in here, no wonder why your brain got a bit rusty.

-Trapped?

   The fox’s looking at me head to toes, sighs and sits in front of me waiting for something once again. What, exactly? No idea, but I wish it would be something that would take my guilt away and leave this thing get baked. It would smell like cooked fox all over to the watch tower.

-Highly doubt you could smell anything with a nose that fucked up.

-Shut-your-god-damn-mouth.

   I get caught off guard by the walkie talkie screeching with an incomprehensible voice. I don’t get much, just small phrases like “wish you could hear me” or “one sign of life” and such. All enough to hear my dad on this. I press to reply with my hands shaking by the stress. I keep on losing him, without ever getting my voice across. Signal worsens, but if I can hear him that must mean he is somewhere around here, right? But what if he is somewhere near the fire? I’m mic screaming “DAD JUST TELL ME IF YOU’RE HERE” like a ten year old and that’s where I lose all contact.

   Trying to catch a breath on a treat I get blood in my mouth (which has got everywhere and made me look sick) and burst into tears. I feel finished. I watch the ash raining down on my from the coal black slope on my right and I’m feeling shaky once again. I don’t even know if I’m crying being here all alone or because by the next few meters I could see my dad… You know how. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I see something like that.

-Come on, girl, please, don’t say that. I’ve listened to you say that like a hundred times and every time my heart is screaming for mercy. Come, get up.

Barely even remembered the fox is there all along.

-What do you want from me?

-Dunno. Company? A little adventure? This boredom you feel all this time on that watch tower all alone, I get that too. But you only make us the favor to come down here and spend time when you catch your dad on the radio. Only then I really have something to do.

-So you have seen me up there?

-If I seen you? What else could a fox occupy it’s mind inside those fucked up woods than stalk a fire lookout in her fourties? You know, playing with the binoculars, searching up radio frequencies, drinking beer and listening to the same music all day from her cd player? Is there anything better around here?

-What forties? I’m seventeen.

-Well I’m telling you, you absolutely are in your thirties at least.

-Why do I even bother.

   But chatting with the fox really makes you forget, whatever bs you have to endure. And you have to endure a lot. And a lot of stuff the fox says are disses that don’t make much sense. However company is very much needed at this point, inside a dirt pool filling up with ash and red smoke.

-I’m not here to make your life difficult.

-I don’t even know why you’re here. And how come you talk? If that’s not too much.

-Why are you stuck on these questions by now? You do this every time. Even though that’s the first time I see fire getting that big around here. And to be fair you got lost in the woods too early this time. And to be honest I’m kinda like a baby boy right now, asking for his mama, cause I have no clue what the hell is going on.

-”Baby boy”? Are you male?

   He looks at me with the most dead and disappointed stare a fox could ever have. I don’t know why I assumed he was a girl. But since he can hear me in my head, I apologize for perpetuating those kind of stereotypes. My bad. Ok? The fox nods as agreeing. we are ok.

   During all that I forgot I had the walkie talkie on my back pocket so when it started “whistling” again I got shivers. Trying to hold it with my shaky fingers I drop it like the useless scum I am. Even the fox gave me a disappointed look.

   The signal was better this time. I could hear for about five minutes non stop before I tried (with no luck) to respond. This is for sure not my dad. Those weird fast paced accents that invade the back of my ears are definitely from my mother. She even said her catchphrase “look at your own lil princess”.

“...should we keep on putting up a show anymore, darling?”.

“I’m tired. You wanna hear me say it? I say it right now.“.

“...I don’t understand? So am I the bad one and the heartless bitch once again?”.

“...please accept the bitter reality. We really missed the boat...”.

And then silence again.

   Same attitude, same lines played out a thousand times in the kitchen or in front of people. The same arguing over and over again with dad. The reason was always dumb, but her voice here doesn’t seem so irritating. Something serious must have happened for my dead mommy to cry like a pig.

-No crying? So you’re over it?

-Don’t know.

-I get it, we’re still at the point where you adapt to all this. We have a little bit of walking left till you have to get back.

-Tell me, what’s this thing you seem to know but I don’t?

-We know the same. I’m just here as a reminder, like an alarm clock of some sort. You know, like that fox alarm clock you had besides your bed when you were younger? Do you remember? You even brought it to the watch tower. Weird to have an alarm clock if you’re waking up at noon, though. You a freaking fire lookout, woman.

   It was a while until my brain got to work again. The fox was right, he is just like that alarm clock I have since a kid. How did I not see it before? And what does that mean now? Well, we know we won’t get any further just by asking. I don’t know if what I feel about that creature is trust, intimacy or curiosity. And those enigmatic stuff he throws here and there get tiresome. We walk and chit chat without noticing the orange fog swallowing everything within a meter around us. All we see in front of us now are burnt tree trunks and melting animals. All of them teddy bears I had while being a baby potato. If my heartbeat wasn’t hitting those three digits I would get goosebumps right now.

   I’m covering mouth and nose with my hand and try to guess where the fox is, as he’s running in circles stunned. He doesn’t seem to care if we find my parents before we all get barbecued anymore. He is too busy looking somehow concerned at all this damaged landscape.

-Tell me, how long have you seen me in secret? Spent all the summer over there and I never saw a single soul besides you right now, my secret admirer.

-Are you serious? What summer? Get it together. We wasted our young years here. But what am I even saying and basically to whom. Sometimes I wish I had your luck playing in this kind of playground. You could say disconnection from the environment has its moments.

-I’m volunteering for the summer, that’s all. It was written on the papers I signed, too. I think.

-Wait… Is that it?

-After all that I’m going back home to find out if where I’m studying by September. It’s pretty much over.

-...so this was it all along? Disconnecting? -Wait, did I take the entrance exams? My brain just froze.

-Would you shut up about your exams? Something’s wrong.

-How could I forget exams, though? After all this studying?

-Oh man. We really are in deep shit and now’s the time for you to turn your nose up at what is happening.

-Oh, here we go with these nose jokes again.

-No, no. Didn’t mean it in a literal way. That was unfortun… Ah, you get it, right?

-Maybe that’s why there’s not a single soul down here. You must’ve killed them all with your crap.

-I don’t have a good feeling about this. Our routine feels off. We have done this walk so many times and something’s not quite ok right now. It seems as if we’re stuck at the same place for hours and I guess…

-”Guess” what…?

-...we’re lost. I guess.

   Oh-you-don’t-say. When you spend so much time fucking with a broken person’s nerves, you tend miss what’s happening. We’re technically blind and we just go around for hours. Are we running away from the fire? Going straight at it? Only god know, because everything turned brown around here. We’re bumping trees and get shitless when we step on those blackened teddy bear bellies. I don’t lose my chance of cursing out the fox for driving us here, but all he cares about it digging holes while “trying to find our designated course”. That’s how we spend our next hour. Or maybe more since my watch stopped.

-How much battery is left in the walkie talkie?

-One line. And I swear I had it full, just like every time.

-”Just like every time”?

-Every time I climb down the watch tower to get here.

   The fox leaves the digging on the side and looks at me with his eyes wide open. My brain gets stuck for a moment and before he gets to respond I get vertigo. When I return to normal he keeps on asking again and again if I “know”, as if I get what he is trying to say. I’m searching for the sun above us to make everything around me stop flickering, but no luck, so I have the fox right beside me irritating me with these questions while I’m throwing up.

-Oh boy, you really don’t listen. That’s it, we’re going back. Now.

-Back where? I have my parents over here!

-You play the fool all this time. We have to go back to the starting point, don’t you get it? With you at the watch tower listening to your parents on the radio, coming down to the woods and find me while breaking your nose. Dunno how more fucked up your nose can be than right now, but we might save our asses.

-You are the most irritating talking fox I’ve ever seen.

-Wow, that’s a lot. Now give me the walkie talkie.

-Stop, YOU’RE GONNA BREAK IT!

-WOULD YOU STOP THE BULLSHIT SO WE CAN SAVE OURSELVES?

-DON’T.

   The walkie talkie slips, falls upon some cracked branches and shutters to a million pieces. Our eyes are glued to the ground, scanning for every piece in case we lose it. Time suddenly hits the brake, the orange fog from before has grown to this sick deep red light from the sun that sets down the edge of the valley as if we are in literal hell. Is this it?

-Nah. Not yet at least.

-Cut it out.

-Sure.

   I’m paralysed. My head can’t get through this twisted procedure anymore; days are marching one after another as the same exact instance being copied again and again. I tried so much to resist but my “job” here stopped helping a long time ago. Every bit on me seems hurt and rough. How long was I force to see everything slowly catch fire as I try to not get burnt alive? I could never know. All I know is how much washed out I feel here. Breaking my face, getting lost and playing chase with flames while asking for my dad through a stupid walkie talkie. Not that I ever need it to hear him. I got him right beside my ear all the time.

Even now.

“Stop acting like that, you’re an old man. It’s like you think I’m not in pain myself.”.

“But is it so easy for you?”.

“You think I’m not suffering inside? We’re in the same boat and we’re sinking.”.

“And what is she stood up right now? Looking at you and asking you what were we discussing just before?”.

“Twenty years, dear. Twenty years talking ‘bout the same damn things. Our daughter is gone, don’t you listen to the doctors? Am I wasting away on my own? Am I struggling to keep up with money by myself just to keep on hoping? Why are you doing this? Why in front of others, dear?”.

“I won’t bear this. I can’t bear this.”.

“It’s time to let her rest, us too. Or whatever is left there...”.

“Don’t cry, damn it. Don’t you see I’m holding it myself?”.

   That’s my mom. Stiff as one can be at first just to breakdown in the end. Now my dad must hug her with those big ass arms until she eventually calms down. What I’d do to see them now, even though they must got so old through all those years.

   When my mother stopped sobbing I wiped my eyes and saw the fire waiting ten steps away. Clothes, shoes, all of them slowly melt and drop to the boiling ground. I take the fox in my arms and run away in case we can get saved somehow. The fox doesn’t seem to have much time left. All I see is burnt fur and burst open skin. I barely have the courage to look at his face with this bloody tongue and two concerning little eyes.

-Can you still talk?

-As much as you can run.

   He knows what he’s talking about. My body is slowing growing heavy and lags to respond. We are really dead meat.

-So nothing in here is real, huh? It’s all in my head.

-Does it matter? The point was to get a bit away from all of this. To stretch this as much as possible, until you wake up or until you… You know…

   I’m not forcing the conversation any more. I’m grateful for his stance amidst all this chaos. He looks at me and nods to seal the mutual understanding. I smile and the saltiness from the tears and the blood goes right into my mouth. Awkward yet suitable.

   When my feet start to sink from the upward sprint up the hill, the watch tower is finally revealed about a hundred meters away.

-A little bit of patience, we’re here.

-All of this is so unnecessary. We’re gonna be consumed by the fire in the end.

-I need to talk to them. Last try. Promise.

-As if we had more.

   The rusty ladder moans while I climb it with the fox on my right soldier. The door of the tower room slams by the wind and all the glass windows are shattered with dust pilling up all the way to my knee. All the beer can thrown out, all the books and cds buried; only the desk with the main radio got away through all this. I lie down the fox on a corner of the bed and I examine the completely fucked up world outside. Everything is red and everything flickers in the flames. It’s a matter of minutes now.

   I plug the radio and fix the antenna that gets dragged by the wind outside. The fox is watching me like he wants to make sure I do everything right. I make a weird gesture with my hand to reassure him during his last moments and he smiles. Then I play with the mic switch in my hands due to awkwardness. How much time do I have left? Judging the fire coming close to the window I kinda get the idea. But it seems I don’t need this kind of boogieman anymore to live and move in here; just patience. So I’m looking the frequencies one by one, calling and waiting for a response.

-I don’t know if you can hear me, maybe you escaped. Old people don’t particularly stand those situations. I just called for the sake of it. I called to say it’s ok and I understand, dad. And please tell the other not to whine and be bitter. The only thing missing right now is one last hug with you. If only I could feel a touch on my hand, damn it. Anyway, I’m tired. Be strong. I have no idea if, but I wish we meet again someday. Somewhere by the sea if it’s easy. So much desolation and so much pine, I can’t stand it anymore.

   It’s like I had it written down with the words flowing so easily. I repeated them about twenty or thirty times out loud until my mouth went completely dry. I turn off the mic and look at the flame waving me from every direction. I wave back.

-We’ve said it well, even though no one got to hear it. The most beautiful in vain gesture ever.

How poetic. Didn’t know he had it in him.

   I leave the radio in a frequency full of white noise to scratch my ears to oblivion. I don’t wanna hear my head go off until they reply back. Afterwards I give a tight hug to the fox with all power I have left to a point I think I’m strangling him. He doesn’t flinch, he understands. We sigh together and watch in slow motion the whole process. Fire knocking on the door to come in, surrounding everything, painting them all with a different color as I leave my sweat (and something more) on this cheap mattress. Maybe they didn’t get my message, I think, and I’m kinda holding a grudge at myself. Maybe if I had another chance I wouldn’t waste so much time. Maybe I could even wake up and see them, even if that meant I would die right after. Talk about bad luck, twenty years here and the alarm clock never get me out of bed once. My nerves. I have so much anger I could a person right now. I swear if someone would close my nostrils right now I’d explode from rage.

-So much for breaking your nose, I guess.

-For the love of god SHUT UP.

[marmolady]

Like Old Times

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending (Rourke ending). Set after my previous Rourke ending fics, but probably easy enough to follow without reading them first. 

With attempts to rekindle the friendships lost met with minimal success, Taylor is in desperate need of a night off. No worrying about what she doesn’t have, just appreciating her small victories in the face of Rourke’s plans for her. But the boat dance might just stir memories in places she hadn’t expected...

Word Count: 7556

Warnings: the usual. Bit of coarse language and sexual references.

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @sceptilemasterr @bbaba-yagaa@edgydepressedchoicesthot@blightarts@princessstellaris@acidsugar0@taramitch96 @sapphovonchat @strangerofbraidwood@noeschoices @queerchoicesblog@kennaxval@queerchoicesblog@mrsmontoya @saivilo @mind-reader1 @ezramitchells

The sounds, the scents, the images of the pristine beaches surrounding The Celestial took hold of Estela as she carefully managed her breathing. In her meditative state, it was where she always ended up… the thoughts that overcrowded her tired mind fell away, and it was just peace. Her time on La Huerta had been chaotic, but had also given her the nearest thing to the opposite of that- something close to tranquility, that she’d ever known. It was her happy place. Cross-legged on the couch in their Hartfeld apartment, she might as well be miles away.

In the background, Taylor was helping Diego with his outfit for the boat dance, the social event of the season. They would all be going- at least, as far as she could tell. It had taken some convincing to get Zahra on board, but if all she was ready to contribute to their mission was just to passively be there, then she’d need to passively be there when it mattered. Taylor was convinced that the more they spent time together publicly, as friends, the more memories would trickle back to those as yet beyond her reach. And so, she’d resigned herself to doing Zahra’s share of the housework for the next month as payment for her cooperation.

“Are you sure I’m not gonna be the only guy in a suit?”

“Diego, it’s a dance. I’m pretty sure it’s semi-formal affair. You’re gonna look very dapper.”

Taylor hugged him. That he was brave enough to go along to an event that would no doubt be brimming with happy couples, in spite of how much he ached for Varyyn, said a lot. Diego really was something special.

“Well, that’s me sorted. You might want to bring Estela back to the land of the living, it looks like she’s falling asleep.”

“Yeah…”

It had come as a great relief to Taylor that Estela had found a way of easing the storm in her mind; she hated to disturb her. She did, however, have her own special way of gently doing so. Reaching out with her mind rarely worked except with receptive Vaanti, but with the receiver in a meditative trance, it seemed she could manage a sort of crude one-way communication. She closed her eyes, and focused, sending out imagery like a radio signal.

Diego watched intently. “What are you saying?”

“It doesn’t really work like that… it’s not like with Varyyn. It’s kinda… vague and wordless. A feeling. Like a weird, fluffy mind hug.”

“So, you’re not, like, sending her mind sexts?”

Taylor snorted; her concentration broken. “Diego! Get that head of yours out of the gutter!”

Slowly, Estela blinked back into the present, and stretched out her arms. “…Hey.”

“Hey. I just thought you might want to start getting ready. We’ll have to make a move in half an hour.”

It took a moment for Estela to recall, deep as she’d been within herself. “Oh, that dance you’re dragging us along to.”

Taylor made air quotation marks as she spoke. “Yeah, ‘dragging’. You can’t pretend to me that you haven’t been looking forward to it, just a little…”

To be honest, Estela wasn’t sure how she felt. It would be awfully reminiscent of the times they’d all shared on La Huerta, celebrating together in defiance of everything that kept on trying to crush them. But it wouldn’t be like that this time. Most of her friends were far out of reach, and to see it starkly before her would not exactly be enjoyable. Taylor was convinced that the opportunity to let loose would be good for them all, and Estela trusted her judgement. She was determined to have fun, to forget about… everything… just for one night. It was what Taylor needed after being a supportive rock not just for Estela, but for Diego and Zahra as well. However hard it might be, Estela would make sure her wife had the breath of fresh air that she so deserved. She shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll admit it; just a little.” Letting herself be pulled onto her feet, Estela pecked a kiss to Taylor’s cheek. “I guess I better go get dressed…”

______________________________

The boat was heaving when Taylor’s party arrived.

Zahra winced. “You’re gonna want to point me towards the booze, because I will not survive this sober…”

Taylor whipped around, and handed her a Dark ‘n’ Stormy. “I’ve already got you covered, babe!”

“Call me that again and I’ll cut you.” Zahra took a swig and forced a smile. “But thanks, I guess.”

A face in the crowd drew Estela’s attention; pale, surrounded by long mane of russet. Quinn stumbled away from the dance floor, and sat down on one of the plush seats around the edge, fingers visibly digging into the cushion even at a distance. Instinctively, Estela glanced around for Taylor, someone rather better at offering friendly overtures than she herself was. But now, she was nowhere to be seen- lost in the sea of students.

Estela approached cautiously, going over in her mind what she might say. She’d talked to Quinn just the once since Rourke had implemented Project Janus, and it had been brief. To the demure redhead, she was good as a stranger. At least on La Huerta, there had been no need for awkward ‘getting to know you’ nonsense. Estela had focused on survival, on succeeding in her mission, and the friendships developed naturally, born of the experiences they’d shared. Shit, where was Cetus when you needed him? They’d have gathered together, kicked his scaly ass, and bada-bing bada-boom, they’d come out of it as friends… none of this awkward reaching out. Pulling herself together, Estela sat down beside Quinn. Should she smile? Quinn looked ill… surely, she shouldn’t look amused by that? But if she didn’t, would her serious gaze make Quinn nervous…? Where the hell was Taylor when she needed her?

“Hi,” she said quietly, at long last. “I just thought…” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to make sure you were all right… you don’t look so good. Can I do anything?”

Quinn smiled weakly. “Someone’s already getting me a glass of water.” Her eyes flickered over Estela’s earnest face. “You’ve probably got people to be with… but, if you don’t, I… I’d really like the company.”

The brunette sidled closer, by way of an answer.

“It’s Estela, right?”

A nod. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. How have you… how have you been?” The last time Estela had encountered Quinn, she’d found her to be frighteningly weak, everything about her had just been tired. Now, she was clearly not healthy by any means, but she lacked the heavy rings around her eyes.

“Actually, I’ve been good. I’ve been sick for a long time, but recently… it feels like I have a reason to feel hopeful. Right now, though? I guess the movement of the boat’s making me queasy. I’ve been on a treatment for a little while; it’s helping me, but my body’s fragile.”

“If you’re prone to seasickness, maybe going to a boat dance wasn’t the best choice of social event for you to make your comeback on…”

With a hollow laugh, Quinn shook her head. “’Comeback’ kind of implies that I’d ever really been fit for these parties. I just hoped… this new treatment, you know, that I might finally catch up on everything I missed out on growing up.” Realising she was talking to a near stranger, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry! You came out for a good time; you don’t want to listen to this. You barely know me…”

“No. But I’d like to.” Hesitantly, Estela put her hand on Quinn’s arm, and to her relief, the action was met with a grateful smile. “If it helps, I’ve never really done stuff like this either. I met someone, not long ago; she’s shown me a lot of things I didn’t think I’d ever experience. What I’m trying to say is… you might feel like you’re, you know… different, but things can get better, and you’re not…”

“…Alone?”

“You’re not alone.”

Quinn studied Estela thoughtfully. She’d called herself a ‘friend’, and although Quinn couldn’t place her, she was certain that she knew the serious-eyed brunette from somewhere. Estela must have made an impression, for her face had cropped up in strange dreams. The new medication came with vivid dreams as a side-effect, but it struck Quinn as odd that vaguely familiar faces just kept coming up. A sharp, sudden pain made her gasp.

“Quinn! Are you…?” Estela’s eyes grew wide in alarm.

At that moment, Michelle returned. Immediately drawn back to Quinn who was clearly in distress, clutching her forehead, it barely registered that Estela was there too. “Is it your head?”

Quinn winced and nodded. “I think that water’s exactly what I need; thank you.”

Michelle handed her the glass, and began to gently rub her back. “Just take little sips, all right? Are you sure you don’t want to get back on dry land? It’s just a dance; there’ll be others.”

A sad cast of shadow seemed to flit across Quinn’s eyes, and her cheeks puffed as her lips formed a small pout. Of course, no one could understand what this meant to her; they didn’t have a clue…

“You shouldn’t miss out,” Estela said, causing Michelle to flinch, truly noticing her presence for the first time. Though the reaction was hurtful, she let it go. “This is important to you. Maybe, if you did have to leave the boat, we could keep you company. I dunno… have our own party.” She glanced away the second she’d made the suggestion, doubting herself, but looked back again, knowing that she owed Quinn that she at least try. “It’s gotta be better than sitting around feeling like you’ll hurl your guts.”

For a moment, Michelle’s mouth hung open, as if in preparation to protest, but she floundered. Estela, that quiet, scarred creep, looked at her expectantly. Who the hell did she think she was to put her in that position? Then she looked at Quinn, and something within her was stirred. A protective instinct. Was it just the doctor in her? She would, of course, be a natural. But it wasn’t just that… it was almost familial, the need to care. Who was Quinn, anyway? And who was Estela?

The words formed before Michelle could even comprehend why she was speaking them; “She’s right. You’re not about to just sit here sick and miserable, not on my watch. Let’s got you back on dry land- at least for now. You’re going to have a good time tonight if it kills me!”

_____________________________

Taylor sat herself down with a drink in her hand, taking in the buzzing atmosphere on the boat, having lost Diego to the appetiser table. She felt a sad pang at the sight of Raj at the centre of a bustling, laughing cluster of revellers. Sean and Craig were there too, magnets for the university’s popular crowd. It was a world where Taylor was unwelcome, and as much as she wanted to go running over and put her arms around her friends, they weren’t on La Huerta anymore. She shook her head. No; she wasn’t going to get hung up over all that. This should be a party party, not a pity party.

“Are you okay, Taylor?”

When she looked up, there was Grace, her face a picture of kind concern.

“Grace, hi!” Taylor beamed, and scooched over, inviting her friend to join her. “It’s… really good to see you. Finally letting your hair down, with exams finished?”

Grace smiled, right to her eyes. “It’s really good to see you, too. I’ve been meaning to catch you for ages; it’s just… sometimes I think I’ll drown from the pressure. From everything. Tonight… it’s one of the first times I’ve let myself switch off for so long. I feel as though I’ve been holding my breath for months, and I was just so used to it I didn’t notice.”

Taylor put an arm around her. She’d tried to be there for Grace, but through all her attempts to connect, she’d felt as though she was just another burden. “Well, take a deep breath; you’ve earned it. And… before you go back under, do you wanna hang out?”

The two girls leaned on the boat’s edge, looking out at the water, sparkling in the moonlight. Taylor hadn’t expected this -Grace was not one to frequent social events. Grace’s amiable nature made her someone with whom Taylor had been able to easily form a comfortable acquaintance, but moving beyond that had been challenging.

“You look really gorgeous tonight,” Taylor said, admiring the glittering violet dress Grace was wearing. The whole time they were on La Huerta, she never saw her dress up like this.

“You too!” Grace replied brightly. “My mom bought it for me. I was supposed to be going along to this gala a few months ago.” She sighed. “It didn’t last long before I realised, I was there only as another sparkling accessory. Tonight, I’m wearing this for me. Who knows when I’ll give myself another night off?”

“Good for you. Between you and me, I think you’re absolutely rocking it.”

Grace laughed. It was true, she’d been missing out. Desperate as she was to meet the lofty expectations she was held to, there had been no time for friends. And Taylor, she’d realised, was a wonderful, wonderful friend. More than that, there was something there… something mysterious that was beginning to fall together.

“It’s funny, Taylor,” she said. “When I’m with you, sometimes I feel like I could be a whole other person; courageous, someone who would take on the world, someone who her friends could always rely on.”

“Grace… that’s always been you.”

Grace glanced away shyly, her cheeks flushing. “No one’s ever seen me in that way. I know my mother never has. For so long, I’ve been afraid that no one would ever truly see me, believe in who I am. You barely know me, but somehow, I feel like there’s so much beneath the surface. Perhaps some people were always meant to be friends!”

Her heart thumping wildly, Taylor put her arms around her dear friend in a gentle hug. Can’t you see that you know me? Everything we overcame together? Don’t you remember?

“I believe it. Some people you just can’t help but be drawn to.”

“…Taylor? Can I tell you something… strange?” Grace bit her lip nervously. This was something she’d not dared talk about, not to anyone. It was all so fantastical, almost beyond belief. “I know you won’t laugh at me.”

“Of course.” Taylor’s breath caught in her throat. Was this… did she…?

“I’ve had dreams. The same nightmares over and over; every night after I’d talked to you- sometimes even if I only saw you. It made me afraid of you, and I’m sorry. I knew all along that you only wanted to be a friend, and I so badly needed a friend…”

Taylor gave her hand a squeeze, trying to be reassuring, even though adrenaline was surging through her own body. “Oh, honey, don’t apologize! That would make anyone nervous…”

With a weak smile, Grace continued. “First I dreamed the same thing over and over… I was kept prisoner in this cell, all alone. There were guards… guards with metal armour… I never saw their faces. But what was frightening was that it felt real. I’d never had dreams so vivid. And they wouldn’t fade from my memory in the way dreams should do. It was the opposite, in fact. I’d get flashes, more and more, even after I’d woken up, as if I was remembering something that had really happened to me. Well, I was terrified of going back to that place… so cold, so lonely, so I avoided you. Until that day when you were looking for Estela… that night I dreamed it all again, but this time, I kept dreaming… and you rescued me. You… your friends, some other people I recognised and knew I knew… but it was you, clear as day. It was then that I realised that I need never be afraid of you; whatever these dreams -or are they memories?- whatever they’re trying to tell me, I knew you’d understand, that you’d want to help me.”

Her mouth dry, Taylor struggled to find the words. “We’ve all had dreams like that. Estela, Diego, Zahra… I’m sure the others have too.” She automatically glanced back to the dance floor, to where Sean, Michelle, Raj and Craig were laughing together. They had to be remembering something by now. “And I think, I mean, I know… they’re memories. Of a life we should have shared. I know it sounds crazy-“

“It does,” said Grace steadily. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen them myself. I kept on dreaming, you see. It was though I’d passed through a barrier and the memories could suddenly reach me. I kept a journal beside my bed, and wrote down everything I saw, everything I felt.” She gave a bashful smile. “I was very close to Aleister, wasn’t I? I’ve been too nervous to speak to him when I see him in classes, but sometimes our eyes will meet and something so happy bubbles up inside me.”

Taylor could scarcely dare to believe what she was hearing. Grace, her gentle, brilliant Grace, had opened that wonderful mind of hers and seen the truth of everything. With a weak laugh, Taylor nodded. “Yes, you and Aleister. You were such a pair. He so badly needed someone like you in his life. Do you… do you remember what happened?”

The relief that she was not, in fact, losing her mind showed on Grace’s face. The final pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “It was Everett Rourke, wasn’t it? He used technology beyond anything ever seen before… he used it to unravel time itself, to bend it to his will. It’s why he’s the Emperor today. Taylor… it’s all true? Everything I’ve seen in my head? My friends… our friends?”

“It’s true,” Taylor confirmed, voice hushed and threatening to crack with emotion. A tear fell from her cheek. “You’re a hero, Grace. Fighting to save the world. There was so much we could have never done without you.” She choked back a sob. “I’ve missed you so much…”

“I’ve missed you too. When it all started to come back, I felt so empty, like I’d been missing something important. All this time it was you… all of you…” Suddenly, she simultaneously laughed and spluttered with tears, and pulled Taylor into a tight hug. Not only was she not going crazy, she had friends… friends who appreciated exactly who she was, who’d put their lives on the line to see her safe. Frightening as those dreams had been, they’d also shown a kind of love she’d silently craved for as long as she could remember. “Oh my gosh, Taylor!”

They embraced, laughing and crying, sheer relief that their friendship was a fire that for all Rourke’s efforts, could not be extinguished. As Grace came away, lines of worry returned to her face.

“Most of us still haven’t remembered…” she said quietly. “Rourke… he’s treated time as his plaything, hurt so many people, and he’s just… getting away with it?”

Taylor placed her hands on Grace’s shoulders, and leant down just a little, so that she was eye-to-eye with the shorter woman. “He won’t. I swear to you, he won’t. This time, we’re not racing an apocalypse. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but… look at us. Back together; and Estela, Diego, Zahra… that’s already shown that we are so much stronger than he bargained for. I’ve gotta trust that the rest will come in time. And when the time comes, we’ll finish this. For good.”

There was something in the way she spoke that made Grace feel like it was possible. “When this is all over, you really ought to consider a career in motivational speaking.”

“We’ll see. First, let’s enjoy tonight, yeah? Like I said, you’ve earned it.”

__________________________________

“So, um… dancing?” Estela took Quinn’s hand and swayed awkwardly. Wait- she’s seasick! That’s not gonna help. Shit. Her cheeks suddenly bright red, she stopped in her tracks. There’s gotta be a way of doing this without making poor Quinn barf…

Quinn laughed. She was utterly intrigued by the brunette, who was clearly putting herself out of her comfort zone… for her… as if she really was a friend. When she thought about it, Quinn realised where she’d seen Estela before… the strangest dream. She was reaching out to a frothing sea monster, a great beast that towered over her… willing an object to rise out from its throat. And there, arms securely around her, holding her out of harm’s way… Estela. It was funny; she could almost feel those strong arms embracing her, as if it were a memory of something as real as she was standing there. What was even stranger was that she was certain she’d seen Michelle’s face too, in that very same dream.

“Dry land has done me some good; I’m up for a little dancing. Michelle?”

Still side-eyeing Estela, Michelle took Quinn’s hand. Something about this was familiar; spookily so. As much as she couldn’t admit to going along with Taylor’s crazy… there had been flashes of a different truth coming to her since they’d violently collided several weeks before. She’d fought it. Whatever madness Taylor had planted in her head was a distraction from what mattered; she had it all- the sorority, Sean, and she was killing it in classes. Everything right on track. She was still scared of Estela. Not because she was some creepy figure that the other girls would nervously giggle about, but because she was all that, and still Michelle couldn’t shake the growing urge to slap every idiot who said a word against her. It was the same thing that made her protective of Quinn; a deep knowing that she couldn’t understand. None of it made any sense. But, no. This was just a dance… hanging out with a sick girl. What the hell kind of doctor would she be if she didn’t show compassion for someone who clearly needed her? That was all this was, of that much Michelle was certain; she’d keep Quinn company, and at the end of it all, she could go back to keeping her distance… keeping the crazy, the madness that could throw everything she’d worked for into shambles, safely at arm’s length.

“If it means I can make sure you don’t over-do it…” Michelle started to bounce along to the music, and tentatively reached for Estela’s hand. The calloused palm was slightly rough in her fingers, the grip returned to her was strong yet gentle. This was all for show, she told herself, but still she found herself offering the dark-eyed brunette an encouraging smile. “I know this isn’t exactly your scene either. Just follow my lead, okay?”

It was awkward at first. Both Estela and Michelle gratefully took several opportunities to grab a drink between songs, loosening them up just enough that they could forget that they were supposed to be strangers. Reluctantly, though, Michelle found herself having fun- laughing even. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point she must have stopped flinching away from Estela, and her companionship was suddenly… easy.

While she twirled Quinn around, Estela remained quiet. This was well beyond her comfort zone… it would have been even if her friends remembered their relationship. Quinn was bubbly and bouncy, and Estela simply wasn’t. Her slightly tipsy party-goer self was far more self-conscious, stilted, than the average drunken student. Life had taught her to keep her guard up. But as Quinn took both her and Michelle by the hand and spun them in a wild circle, Estela was enjoying herself so much more than she knew how to show them. But that look on Quinn’s face, that look that was like sunshine breaking through the clouds, it was enough to tell her that she wasn’t doing too badly.

Some twenty or so songs later, Quinn collapsed onto the bench, her face happily flushed, sweat upon her brow. She’d pushed herself, perhaps harder than she should have done, but the reward had been what she’d missed out on for so long- a genuine human connection. It had, however, knocked the stuffing out of her.

“Wow, I’m wrecked.” She put her hand to her head, the troubling ache still present in intermittent twinges. It was bizarre, the strength of the complaint seemingly linked to feelings of closeness to the two women who’d put their own plans aside, for her. “Good wrecked,” she added quickly.

“Honestly?” Michelle sighed, sitting down beside her. “Me too. It’s almost like I caught your headache. I think exam week caught up with me.” It wasn’t the night she’d planned, but of all the parties she’d been to in her freshman year, this was the one she’d remember. “Hey, Quinn? If you wanted to share an Uber with me, you could crash out in my room. If you wanted to hang out some more?”

Her sapphire eyes widening at the first invite she’d received in… how many years?... Quinn couldn’t hide her surprise. “Oh, Michelle, you don’t have to. You should spend some time with your friends, I’ve kept you a long time as it is.”

“This isn’t me being nice. I don’t wanna go back in there and face Craig right now; my head would explode.”

Both Quinn and Estela laughed.

Michelle found herself grinning along with them. “And Quinn, you’re a friend. Shit- maybe I am being nice. What a night.” She offered Estela a glance. “I’m guessing you’re here with…” Crazy Taylor… “Taylor?”

“I am. I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I called her over after… you know.”

Her cheeks suddenly very pink, Michelle was uncomfortable, and it showed all over her face. The last encounter she’d shared with Taylor and Estela had been memorable for all the wrong reasons. There may have been a slap-fight involved. She said nothing, but gave a small nod of acknowledgement that Estela had probably made the right call. The more she’d thought about it, the less Crazy Taylor seemed like a threat to her relationship with Sean, but it remained she who was the source of those insane stories, the ones that somehow haunted Michelle in her dreams. Bad news… that’s what Taylor was. But Estela seemed nice enough; creepy as all hell, but honestly… nice. Certainly not deserving of being treated like something slimy that had crawled out of a horror movie. How she, Michelle, had treated her.

Quinn put her arms around Estela, receiving an unsure, but clearly heartfelt hug in return. “You’re here with your girlfriend? I wouldn’t have kept you if I’d known!”

“It’s all right. You needed a friend. Taylor would get it; this sort of thing is usually what she’d do.”

“Wait- blonde Taylor?” Receiving a nod, Quinn beamed. “I know Taylor! Whenever I’m on campus and she bumps into me, she’ll stop and chat- every time.”

“That sounds right.” Estela couldn’t help but smile. Being a stellar friend was pretty much what Taylor was born for, and it was where she shone. It was a good thing, too, what with the fate of the world relying on their rekindling the bonds the twelve had once shared. “She’s got this pathological need to be friends with people. She latches on, and that’s it, she’ll care about you for life.”

It had been strange for Estela to take on that role. She hoped she’d risen to the challenge; it wasn’t like old times, but she’d felt comfortable with Quinn and Michelle, refreshingly so. “I should get back to her. She’s probably propping up a drunk Diego somewhere…”

“I think I’ve kept you long enough,” Quinn said, gratefully. She wasn’t sure what it was about Estela, but so quickly, the friendship that was blooming between them felt easy, natural. For the first time in her life, a friendship that might just have a chance… a chance of growing and not simply being snuffed out by the reality of her illness. “You say ‘hi’ for me, okay? We should all hang out sometime.”

Estela looked her steadily in the eye, her cheeks slightly pink. That someone would actively seek out her company… it was surreal. She could only hope Quinn knew what it meant. “I’d like that. Thank you. And I… I will.” She gave them both a small nod. “Get some rest, yeah?”

With that, she turned to head back to the boat, back to her wife, who would no doubt be wondering after her. She felt a hand on the crook of her arm, and when she looked back, there was Michelle, a bizarre expression on her face… as if surprised by her own action.

“Look, Estela, I don’t often make apologies; I’m sharp, and it’s how I survive. But I was a real bitch to you; you and Taylor. I’m sorry, all right? And you can pass that on to her too.”

“…Michelle…”

Michelle looked up, but still pointedly avoided eye contact, not realising how much it stung.

“Thanks…” Estela said, “you know, for helping keep Quinn company.”

“I’m not a complete asshole.” Michelle glanced upwards, meeting brunette’s dark, serious eyes at last, and gave her a small but genuine smile. “You’re welcome.”

_______________________________

In the middle of the dance floor, Taylor was hopping to the beat, a great smile plastered across her face. She was supposed to be going for top-ups, leaving Grace and Diego to briefly carry on their giggly game of charades without her… but how could she stop herself from dancing? Sure, she didn’t have the whole gang behind her, but buzzed as she was over the breakthrough with Grace, the usual hurt couldn’t touch her. Taylor was on cloud nine, on top of the world…

-crash!!-

“Heeeey, Crazy Taylor!”

Looking up from the floor on what she knew would be a very bruised rear the next day, Taylor held her hand out, letting herself be pulled back to her feet by the very solid figure she’d danced right into.

“Hey, Craig, having a good time? Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Pffft, chyeah… it’s a party, duh!”

“I can’t argue with that,” Taylor laughed. This felt good, natural. Or was she just drunk? Was Craig just hoping she’d start another entertaining fight? Her nerves returned. Easy, Taylor. Just let it come the way it’s meant to. He’s your friend; he’ll work it out eventually. “Food’s been pretty nice too…”

“Hey, where did your friend go? She hasn’t bailed already?”

Taylor followed Craig’s eyes to the seat where Zahra had been sitting earlier that night, glaring daggers out into the room while downing the finest cocktails on offer. A sinking feeling in her stomach told her that Zahra had indeed left. Immediately, she felt guilt. Caught up as she was in her excitement over re-connecting with Grace, she hadn’t checked in with her reclusive housemate. Zahra was hurt, much more than she cared to let on, by her history with Craig having been erased. It had been excruciating for her to open back up to him on La Huerta… to start over was too much.

“I think she went home,” Taylor said apologetically. This, she knew, would be one of the major hurdles in getting the group back together. As soon as Craig had started looking her way, Zahra had scarpered.

Craig’s face fell, but he recovered quickly. “I’m not, like, interested or anything! Not into nerds.”

“Come on, really? And you haven’t ever played a video game in your life? Between you and me, I’ve always found I was happier when I just rolled with what made me happy, not what might make me popular--“

“The hell you mean by that? You don’t know me!”

Shit. Abort mission; abort, abort!

Taylor briefly babbled, tripping over her tongue in panic. “I didn’t- I mean that… uh…. Shit. You’re right; I’m over-stepping. But if you wanna try something different, you should drop by our place sometime.”

To her relief, the indignant anger seemed to have faded from Craig’s face as quickly as it had flared up there, replaced by simple… curiosity, even in spite of himself.

Taking a chance, Taylor kept talking. “Yeah… yeah. We picked up a few old games last week, you know, retro… and honestly? I keep getting thrashed by Zahra. Y-you know… my friend you were asking after. She’s wicked smart; way too much for me to handle. And I dunno… I thought maybe you could help me take her down. Diego’s crap, and Estela’s plain not interested. I know it’s weird to ask, but I just got a feeling… you might have a good mind for that kind of thing.”

“Huh. Uh, uh, okay.” His face taking on a pink glow, Craig glanced hastily over his shoulder. “No nerdy wizard quest shit, though, aiight?”

“What, no! It’s uh… ‘Deadly Bloodsport’. And like I said, I keep getting my ass handed to me. You really should come around, bring a few beers or something.”

The strange nervousness fell from Craig’s face. “Now you’re talking! Why didn’t you say there was gonna be booze?”

Okay; good, good, now you’ve just got to track down one of those damn consoles… and hope that Zahra doesn’t stab me in my sleep.

As Craig walked away, Taylor realised she’d been barely breathing through their whole encounter, so terrified she was that she’d put her foot in it and make a difficult situation even worse. She chuckled to herself. Go let your hair down, girl! This is meant to be a night off from freaking out.

And, for the most part, it was. Taylor couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much, but it must have been back on La Huerta. It was almost as if… she’d stopped worrying just enough that things were starting to fall together on their own. She had her old Grace back, sweet and smart, and the friend she’d always been. And she could have sworn she saw something clicking in Craig’s head back there! The night, by her reckoning, was a roaring success. Something, though, something was missing…

“Estela-baby! There’s that badass love of my life!” Taylor leapt into a run, losing one of her heels in her exuberant rush to put herself in her wife’s arms. “I thought you’d fallen overboard or something! You haven’t missed all the food, have you?”

Estela was pleasantly flushed, glowing. “Sorry, I got caught up. I did eat though. Quinn was feeling rough on the boat, so I kept her and Michelle company on the marina for a little while. They’ve gone back to Hartfeld now, but I think having something to eat did Quinn some good.”

Doing a double-take, Taylor blinked rapidly for a moment. The last time Estela had been in contact with Michelle had been an absolute disaster. That look on her face now said that something had drastically changed. Taylor could only smile at her, big and broad and adoring.

“Estela Montoya, you are an absolute gem, you know that?”

She trailed her hands down until they settled on Estela’s hips, and pulled her closer, swaying gently in time with the music.

Smiling, Estela put her arms around Taylor’s neck. She leaned in and kissed her, letting feel of her lover’s lips, soft on her own, make the rest of the world fall away. The party was nice and all, but it didn’t compare to this- not even close. “Did you want to dance?”

“Is that something you do? Dancing?”

“No.” Estela shrugged. “Not really. But I figured we could work it out together. Is, um, one of us supposed to lead?”

“I think so? I don’t…”

They both stepped forward at the same time, and giggled as they crashed foreheads.

“God, you’ve got a hard skull…” Taylor laughed. “Hang on…” Tossing away her other shoe, she noticed that Estela was already barefoot, clearly having done away with the impractical heels at first opportunity. It made her smile all the more. “How about, you just lean into me, hold me… we’ll sway a little bit… and then…” She guided Estela’s arm upwards guiding her into a spin until she was flush against her chest once more.

“I guess we’re not so bad at this.”

“At least now we’re not. Helps that I’m not waddling around with one shoe like a complete doofus anymore.”

“You wanted to wear the stupid things…” Estela rolled her eyes. “You know, if you had to make a quick exit in these, you’d break your neck.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “And you can run in heels? Oh, my darling, even walking in them you look like a drunk giraffe. Sorry, a simultaneously very cute and very intimidating drunk giraffe.”

“Uh… thanks…?” Estela leaned in close and nibbled her lover’s ear before whispering. “I think you know that when the shit hits the fan, I’d have the heels off and be stabbing someone in the neck with them in a heartbeat.”

“There it is. Adorable and terrifying. So glad I’m on your good side.”

Estela giggled against the crook of Taylor’s neck, warm and giddy. “Always.”

Her arm resting on her wife’s back, Taylor grinned like a Cheshire cat, all the while, still swaying gently to the music. These little moments made the angst, the heartache, the fear… all worth it. A hundred times over.

“This has been really nice. Like, so nice. But I’ve actually got something to tell you.”

Immediately, Estela looked up, worry creeping into her eyes. “Taylor, is something wrong?”

Taylor kept on smiling. “I was talking with Grace. She remembers. Stel, she remembers everything!”

“Wait- what? You took your time spitting that out! Where is she? Is she okay?”

“Well, I figured, we’d all be hanging out together the rest of the night. I wanted to have a moment… just us, first.”

“Oh my god!”

“I left her playing charades with Diego… they’re probably wondering where I got to with their drinks. Come on…”

“I love you, but I am not playing charades. How fucking drunk do you think I am?”

_______________________________

Several giggly rounds of charades later- and Diego remaining undefeated, seemingly able to pick a mimed pop-culture reference within two seconds- Taylor succumbed once more to the dance floor, swinging her friends around her until her feet could dance no longer. Several drinks down, and all four of them were feeling it. Perhaps too much- as they discovered when an over-excited Diego ran up behind Sean and gave him the biggest hug he could muster, too tipsy to recall that in this timeline, they weren’t actually friends yet. Rescued by Estela before he could inflict another social faux pas, Diego was thankful that even in the midst of a scornful popular crowd, Sean’s good nature shone through and he’d awkwardly returned the gesture.

Grace was more relaxed, at ease with the world and within herself, than Taylor could remember seeing her- perhaps ever; the relief she found in realising her truth clear to see. She’d kept an eye out for Aleister; but he never made an appearance. Taylor had explained that it might have been for the best; Aleister was kept just close enough to his father that it was safer they all kept their distance until the rest of them were ready to come together and take action. Everything taken into consideration, though, this was the nearest Taylor had felt to… to feeling whole since she stupidly allowed Rourke to take away the bonds that had been the making of her. When Grace hugged her, it was to be embraced by a friend… and damn, that felt better than Taylor could put into words.

“I’m absolutely exhausted!” Grace lamented, even as she kept on grinning. “I’d better go and get some sleep; I’m still on catch-up after exams.”

Taylor hugged her in return. “Trust me, you’re not the only one. I think if I dance for a minute longer, my feet will sue my brain.”

“You say the strangest things, Taylor. And yet, somehow, you always make sense.” Grace spoke with a laugh, one well-earned after running herself ragged in the lead-up to the end of the quarter. “I suppose I’ll see you when school comes back? We ought to have lunches together… I’m honestly so tired of feeling like I’m struggling through alone.”

Taking a step back, Taylor held onto Grace’s arms and looked her straight in the eye, hoping with everything in her that she understood just how much she was cared for. “You don’t have to go through it alone. Never again, yeah? Because we’re a family. Whatever happens, we’re in it together.”

Grace’s eyes glistened with tears as she held her friend’s gaze. Her smile was brilliant, her face aglow. “We’re in it together! I’ll see you very soon, Taylor.”

Another round of hugs, and Grace was gone, almost skipping as she went to get her lift. With Diego calling up their own ride, Taylor gleefully put her arms around Estela. She’d hoped the party would have been an opportunity for some long slow-dances between them, a chance for her to simply hold her wife, and let her feel at ease- something so rare when her very mind was at war with itself- but surprise encounters had put paid to her best laid plans.

“I feel like I hardly spent any time with you tonight;” Estela murmured, as if she were reading her wife’s mind. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be- as much as I might want to keep you to myself, I’m a very kind and giving person.” Taylor reached out for Estela’s hand. “Seriously, though. I know how hard all this has been for you. To reach out to them, after everything, and being your wonderful, caring self… I just love you so much.”

With her free hand, Estela traced her fingers over the side of Taylor’s face, delicately brushing away an errant lock of hair. She quietly admired the pink glow that had painted itself across those kissable cheeks, the contentment and affection in those blue, blue eyes, the enticing glisten upon those lips.

“You’re beautiful…” she whispered. “Taylor… beautiful Taylor.”

“You’re beautiful, my darling Estela.”

Glancing down, a little bashful, Estela moved in closer, nuzzling against Taylor’s cheek. The skin so silky soft, shifting beneath her lips in what she knew was the formation of a sweet smile, the kind that made her knees buckle.

“Do you think, when it’s over… we’ll do more of this?” she asked, softly. “Not just ‘cause we’ve got to get some kind of escape from the mindfuck that is our lives, but just… for the joy of it.”

“So, you like the dancing?”

“With you, yes. But you can stop smirking. You already knew I wasn’t so hard.”

“True, very true. And, yeah, we’ll do more of this. Dancing like we haven’t got a care, because someday soon the fight will only be a memory. We’ll be, like, insufferably happy. And we’ll get there, soon. I can feel it.”

“Taylor, you’re feeling the champagne.”

Maybe she was feeling it herself, but Estela couldn’t quite extinguish the new spark of hope that had ignited within, nor could she suppress the beaming smile that had painted itself across her face. She put an arm around Taylor’s back, hugging her tight to her chest, so that she could feel her heart pounding with exhilaration against her breast. To hold her was magic, plain and simple. She leaned in, parting Taylor’s lips with her own, tasting the slight bitterness left by the wine. The kiss started slow, tender, every smallest brush and press of their lips savoured, held onto as if sacred, before it deepened, both women powerless in the face of the heat and passion that surged between them.

Estela drew her face away, just a little, so she could gaze upon the woman she loved. In Taylor’s eyes was something like aching longing, as though mere inches between them was too much to bear. She sated her with delicate kisses, trailing from her forehead, back to her eager mouth.

“Hey, you guys!!!” came a ringing holler.

“Ugh,” said Taylor. “Rude.”

“Don’t worry, carińa, we’ll pick this up when we get home. I’m sure I can keep myself awake for another hour. For you.”

“For me?” Taylor giggled, and snaked an arm around her wife’s waist, holding her close as they reluctantly began moving to join Diego in the Uber back to the apartment. She felt a kiss pressed tenderly to her temple, lingering and sweet. It would have to be just enough… for the time being at least.

Estela reluctantly left one last kiss against Taylor’s face. “Come on,” she said, suddenly commanding. “The sooner we get home…” A subtle wiggle of her eyebrows was all it took to kick Taylor’s butt into gear.

They hurried, hand-in-hand, revelling in the rare assurance that in their small way, they were on their way to winning.

[lizthefangirl]

If Bellamy heard her.

Now on Ao3!

madeoficeandfire said: Do you think you could ever write about Bellamy receiving the messages, but not being able to respond??? Your writing is incredible

So this is now my second fanfic ever—and it’s a monster. The reception of the first one about Clarke’s radio log was so positive, I truly appreciate it!

By the way, I referenced this incredible article about the mysterious ship in the finale, that explains a lot about the Eligius Company. A fan actually pieced it together two months before the finale aired! 

Word Count: 5,209 

Enjoy!

-Liz.xx

The sunlight shone through the trees, onto her hair—green and gold. Clarke surveyed the valley beneath them, that little crease between her brows. “Not long now,” she murmured.

She always said these things. Cryptic, awaiting. Though he never got a real answer, he still ventured, “Until what?”

This time, she peered at him, eyes sad. “’Til you have to go.”

Bellamy stared, surprised. He shook his head slowly. “I’m not going anywhere, Clarke.”

She just smiled, stray locks of hair drifting over her face as she tilted her head to the sky. “But you already did,” she said softly.

He followed her gaze, heart hammering as he saw the rocket take off in the distance. “No,” he rasped. “No, I’m right here—”

She was gone. The trees bore a metallic sheen, branches becoming angular—square. Vines turned into tubing, stretching and elongating towards the horizon until he sat in a hallway, thousands of miles above—

99 DAYS 

He woke with a start, tremors wracking his body. As usual, his skin was slick with sweat, but he wasn’t warm—just the opposite.

An oxymoron, she quipped in his mind. 

Bellamy snarled, throwing the covers off of him and stumbling to the sink in the attached bathroom. The light flickered on at the movement, and he splashed water over his face and neck, suddenly feverish. 

He dabbed away the excess moisture on a towel, catching his reflection as he stormed out—bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes, cheekbones jutting. They’d all lost a bit of weight since they’d arrived on the Ark due to their new diet, but he could hardly keep down a meal the first couple weeks. 

Mind still addled by the dream, he wondered if she knew—had known—how she’d shaped him. He had always been malleable in her hands. She was right, of course, when she told him he lived by his heart; it was always the people he loved that drove him.

Most of them existed in memory, now.

There was a time, not so long ago, when knowing that his sister was safe—and she was, as safe as the ruined planet would allow—would have been enough. Always her, his whole life. 

He had never anticipated that another person would wrap her fingers around his heart, his lungs. That even in death, the grip would not relinquish, but hold firm.

Use your head, Clarke chided.

“Trying to,” he shot back, flopping onto the cot. “But you won’t get out of it.”

100 DAYS

Raven was fiddling with something in one of the main rooms early the next morning, as she had been for the past few days. She’d waved everyone off when they’d tried to ask about it, until she simply bit out, “Radio.” 

No one bothered her further, knowing that logic was the last thing she needed. 

Bellamy studied her, concerned. She looked worse than he did. Murphy told him this was how she had been in the lab—completely out of it. Only, she wasn’t now, he was sure. She was still present, just… focused. Obsessed. 

A high-pitched keen rang out, and he covered his ears. “Ow?”

She didn’t respond. Her movements had quickened in the last minute, eyes sparking. “C’mon,” she hissed, turning a knob. 

The same noise rang out, twice as deafening. He imagined his friends being startled awake, half-expecting to hear Murphy bellow from his quarters—

“I really need to go outside, Bellamy.”

He stopped breathing. 

Raven sagged, a slow smile crossing her features as Clarke—voice riddled with static, but still—Clarke—spoke again.

“I think I’ve memorized every inch of this fucking place—”

“Say something back!” he cried, hoarse. “Raven—”

“I can’t,” she whispered, eyes glassy. “But she’s there. She’s alive.”

He was shaking. He sank down next to her, bringing his ear to the speaker. 

“Even hoped there might’ve been a spare rocket tucked away someplace… If I could get up there to you, I would. I’d do anything.”

There was a click, and she was gone, leaving them in hollow silence. 

365 DAYS

Raven eventually installed the radio into the control room’s console, and the transmissions continued, every single day around the same time in the late night or early morning. Some were devastatingly brief, others went on for minutes. And every one of them was addressed to him. 

Eight months, and they still couldn’t find a way to radio her back—it was simply not possible with the equipment on hand, Raven informed them. 

Still, he would be a fool if he didn’t hold onto every word. 

The day after the first message, the others listened with varying levels of awe as her voice rang out in the next one. Even Murphy and Echo appeared to be suppressing emotion. 

“I, uh. I started drawing again.”

These words came one year after Praimfaya, and he alone heard them. The others had not joined him that night to listen, and he was glad for it, moved by their understanding.

“Wish I could see,” he murmured back, mouth curving into a grin.

“I haven’t told you before, because… I dunno. I’ve drawn all seven of you—even Echo. You’re hard to draw, did you know that? Not because you’re too handsome to be properly rendered on paper. Don’t flatter yourself, Blake.” He snorted. “I think it’s the hair. Or maybe the eyes…” Her voice grew slurred with sleep. “Or the freggles. Hm…” 

After a minute or so of silence, he clicked off the radio. That night, he went to sleep with a smile on his face for the first time he could recall in over a year.

410 DAYS

He stood outside of her old cell. 

Since he’d forced himself to check the surviving prisoner records a week before to confirm its location, he had come here every night, unable to enter. He had the code memorized, but his legs seemed hardwired to the floor. 

Her transmissions were everything. And… nothing. They were ephemeral, there and gone. But this room… She’d been held inside during one of the darkest times of her life, and he was afraid of what he’d find within. Yet it called to him—she called to him.

So he used his head to open his heart, dialing the numbers into the key pad until a faint beep sounded. The door slid away, dim lights flickering to life.

Blood pounded in his ears at the sight of walls covered in drawings—exquisite sketches of all that existed on the ground. He recognized the monuments they studied in history books, as well as the various plants and animals. Her bunk was untouched. He hadn’t realized his legs had carried him forward until he glimpsed at his feet.

It was a night scene, a slender moon hovering above the trees, reflecting onto a lake below. An image that neither of them imagined they would ever see, years ago. A memory brushed at the back of his mind as he studied the sea of stars.

I wouldn’t even know what to wish for, he’d said to her once. 

He knew now. Every second, he knew. 

Careful not to smudge the marks, he lowered himself beside them, welcoming the exhaustion that swelled and dragged him under.

521 DAYS

“I went outside today. I went outside and I didn’t die!”

All seven passengers laughed (at least, the five that were capable of freely expressing emotion), sharing in her relief. Monty cuffed the back of his neck. 

“Maybe someone else is alive, after all… Maybe they’re even cute.”

This drew chuckles all around, and Bellamy vowed that he’d deny the heat that rose in his cheeks at her words until his dying day. 

702 DAYS

“Bellamy. Your rover is trying to kill me.”

He beamed at her irked tone. He had wondered if she would locate it. It had been Monty’s suggestion, to stash it away with some extra fuel—on the off chance of survivors, he’d reasoned.

She was certainly that.

For a few minutes, the feed went silent, until the strong hum of the engine crackled over. “I have conquered the beast,” she announced. “Raven will be so proud.”

She was, when he told her the next morning.

902 DAYS

“I found some guns on the opposite end of the island. They were tucked away in a barrel, just like the ones we found that first year on the ground. Only, these were in pieces.

“… You remember that, Bellamy? That was… quite a trip.”

Did he remember? He loosed a breath, exasperated. Did he remember. 

Long before now, the memories of that day—however warped by the hallucinogens they’d ingested—met him frequently. In the time she���d been away after Mount Weather, he would abruptly recall those odd, tender moments as he loaded his rifle, hands faltering in the memorized movements.

It was all fleeting sensations: His arms circling her own, such a natural gesture until the vaguely soapy, earthy scent of her hair hit his nose. Until he became aware of his heart stuttering in his chest at the way she held the weapon, with such stubborn determination. The realization that she was letting him touch her, instruct her—such a departure from their initially venomous encounters.

It had stolen the breath from his lungs, and thoroughly complicated things.

Clarke had gone quiet on the radio, but he lingered. When the words came through, his quiet fondness vanished at her quivering voice. “Bellamy, I… I hope you’re alive. I hope you all are. But if you aren’t—”

A sob tore from her throat. He stared at the speaker in wounded shock, flinching as he heard a sharp crack, as if she’d dropped her own. Panic flared, but he forced it down, waiting, waiting—

“I’ll see you again,” she said, words clipped with resolve. She was so accustomed to silence, and he hated it. How many times over that year on the ground had he wanted to reach for her, comfort her, and decided against it? Wasted it?

“Yes, you will,” he strained anyway, knuckles white on the edge of the console. “You will, Clarke.”

1,109 DAYS

“So you will never believe what happened today,” she hissed. “I found another person. A little nightblood girl named Madi.”

Today, Bellamy sat with Echo, of all people. She’d slinked into the room to listen. Even after three years in a confined space, they didn’t exactly have a friendly report, but they were civil enough. She cooperated with the rest of the team, and came in handy as he’d anticipated with tasks involving brute strength or a warrior’s precision. He couldn’t help but be moved by her moments of restrained surprise at the eternal night around her over the months—both hers and Emori’s. Each time it happened, he’d see Octavia in her makeshift mask, beaming as she gazed out the window. 

Echo’s eyes widened as she heard the news. Clarke went on to tell them how the child had travelled to the island on a raft, following her mother’s instructions. He was struck by the same awe in her soft words.

“Bellamy, I’ve never had a… Someone younger than me. You had Octavia, and I… I know I just found her, but I don’t want anything to happen to her. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

He felt… He couldn’t name it, exactly. Pride? Relief? Echo’s staunch eyes were on his face, and he glanced at her, emotions shuttering. “What?”

She remained expressionless, but only just, a lilt to her full mouth. “You were smiling,” she said.

1,481 DAYS

The crew aboard the Ark was enraptured by word of Clarke’s new companion. They listened eagerly over the next year as she would recount the girl’s steady progress in learning English, her existing knowledge of hunting and wildlife from Trikru, and general quirks she possessed that seemed to amuse Clarke to no end. Some while ago, the pair had decided it was time to return to the mainland, check on the remnants of Polis and the surrounding territories. All of them were anxious to know the state of the bunker and those it held.

Clarke told them of the failed vessels they’d constructed together to carry themselves, supplies, and the rover, though her hopeful tone never erred. At last, they successfully hit the current, using the satellite in the lab to ensure an ideal sailing forecast. She gave limited reports in the days of the voyage and Bellamy’s stress would subside each time they arrived. 

On the third day, her transmission was delayed longer than all the rest—by almost a full twenty-four hours. Everyone had paused in their tasks, riddled with worry. 

“We’ve hit the mainland,” she crowed, causing her friends start suddenly. Many were keeled over with sleep. Their eyes cleared quickly as they processed the information. “The rafts worked. Even the one for the rover.” In the background, high, muffled cheering rang out. “I can’t believe we pulled it off, after all of those tests—”

“I want to talk to him,” a young voice announced. 

The others exchanged bemused looks, and he shot them a withering expression, flushing. They had heard Madi speak several times, but never directly into the receiver. Nerves crept into his gut at how important this child had become to Clarke—to all of them.

Then she spoke, plain as day. “Bell-amy. Clarke says that you are tall.” 

Stunned silence swept the room, promptly shattered by peals of laughter. He waved at them to be quiet, even though a low chuckle had bubbled passed his lips at her matter-of-fact tone. 

The child continued, only a vague inflection to her words, which came quite smoothly. “It is night and the moon is full. You have black hair, and my hair is brown. Almost black.” Finally, she finished through a yawn, “I want to see the ship, please.”

Harper brought a hand to her mouth, eyes lined with silver. Monty smiled sadly. Murphy’s eyes went to the floor, though Emori’s hand tightened around his. Raven stared at the controls as if she could see the wiring beneath. Echo lifted her chin slightly, face blank. 

Bellamy wordlessly rose out of his chair and walked out. They knew better than to follow him. 

He didn’t leave Clarke’s cell until the next transmission was due to arrive, and when it did, he listened alone.

1,623 DAYS

“Bellamy, the temple collapsed. The bunker is sealed underneath. I’ve tried to reach them on the radio, but it still isn’t working.”

“I am so sorry, Bellamy. I thought… I thought…” 

The knowledge struck the group like a blow. They’d all seen Polis leveled in the lab. They knew the planned protocol: Five years of resources, of refuge, and then… The last of the clans was to rise from the ashes.

Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to them that the ashes simply would not permit it.

1,795 DAYS

“A month,” Clarke said faintly, desperately. “You could be back here in a month, Bellamy. You could—you could meet Madi, and…” She paused, catching her breath. “Thirty days. Why do I get the feeling they will be longer than the past 1,795?” She laughed weakly.

Thousands of miles above, Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut, an empty glass in hand, the nearly drained Baton sitting before him with hardly a finger left.

Because it wasn’t thirty more days. It would be another hundred. Two hundred. Another year, at most.

And she couldn’t know. He couldn’t tell her. 

He eyed the liquor. 

“I miss you. I need you back here—”

He almost dropped the glass as he lunged to click off the radio, forcing himself to exhale. He knew the exact date he would finally down the remaining contents, yet he sat tempted each night, contemplating it until his vision blurred.

Use your head. This time, the command was in his own voice, not hers.

He put the bottle away.

1,825 DAYS

He wouldn’t drink from it when the day finally came. For the first time in a little under five years, he didn’t tune in to her message. No, he would put as much space between himself and that transmission as possible.

When he arrived at Echo’s quarters, he told himself he was still following Clarke's instructions—using his head. Because it was a plain fact that the kind of pain ripping through him could be stifled by only a few things, and alcohol wasn’t strong enough. His arm didn’t feel like his own as he rapped on the door. She answered it almost immediately. 

No words came, but he could see that she had anticipated this on some level. And he wholeheartedly expected her to let him enter—not because he was entitled to her or anyone, but because she understood ravenous emotion, and what relieved it. 

But she did not shift. She merely looked at him, unyielding. “It will not be enough,” she said at last.  

He blinked. “I know.”

“It will not help you.”

At this, he glanced away, jaw working. “You don’t know that.”

“I do know,” she spat. 

He met her eyes, saw the fractures there and swallowed his shame. “Please,” he breathed, voice cracking.

She held his gaze. “Azgeda has a proverb,” she began. “’Kom ai tombom, ai nou slip daun.’” He pieced the words together a moment before she translated, “’To my heart, I do not fall.’” 

“That’s a shitty proverb,” he said dryly, dismissing her cold expression. “It’s not possible. We all fall to it, in the end.”

She did not respond, only leaned out slightly, looking towards the end of the hall. A window revealed the curve of the earth, an ember still smoldering after all these years. “Or we rise above it,” she murmured. Some emotion had surfaced on her face, and he quickly averted his eyes. The entire basis of his being here was detachment, which had managed to dissolve in the person who wore it best. 

“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded roughly. “Don’t tell me to fight it. To overcome it, because I can’t. I won’t. I—I left her five years ago, and I’m leaving her again today.” His eyes stung in wake of the truth, pressure building in his chest. 

He was relieved that there wasn’t a whisper of sympathy on her face as she studied him. But a wrinkle formed between her brows, as much expression as he’d ever seen from her. She seemed to steel herself before she spoke. “My king banished me, and still I tried to save him,” she said huskily. “The only time that I have saved someone is you, when we arrived here. And that was fulfilling a life debt.”

He dipped his chin, remembered finding her upstairs, covered in warpaint with a blade to her gut. The woman who he had saved once before in Mount Weather, who had killed Gina, who would have gladly killed his sister. When he stopped her the second time, it was because she would be an asset to the group. It was because time was running out and Clarke had not returned, and she would not have let her die. 

“Do not waste my efforts by breaking yourself further, Bellamy,” Echo ordered. “And do not dishonor her fealty to you after all this time.” 

He stiffened at the words, left gaping at the door as it slid closed. 

1,833 DAYS

“You sure?” 

Monty spoke, sitting with Raven and Bellamy in the control room. For the past week, he’d been unable to listen to the transmissions. The others had, though—and each one looked ill afterwards. But he needed to hear her voice, even if it was agonized. He needed to face this. 

“Yeah,” he rumbled. Monty still hesitated, glancing at Raven before turning on the radio, which had notified them of an incoming signal a moment before. 

“—been five years, and a week. It’s been five years.” 

She sounded hysterical. Bellamy bent until his forearms rested on his thighs, fingers curling into fists to keep them from trembling. 

“Clarke?” Madi’s voice was barely a ripple in the static. 

“I told you to go to sleep, Madi. I’m sorry, please just—go to sleep.” A pause, then louder, sharper: “Please! I can’t talk to you right now, I can’t—it’s been five years. It’s been five years, and he’s not—” Her voice cracked. “Oh, God. Bellamy.”

The feed cut out. 

He covered his face with his hands, unable to conceal his wheezing gasps, the way his shoulders quaked. He heard Monty’s shoes scuffle against the floor, a placating hand appearing on his shoulder, squeezing tight. Raven rubbed soothing circles on his back, pressing herself close. Both of them barely controlled the sounds of their own grief. 

“She’s strong, Bellamy,” Monty said a while later, after they’d parted. “She won’t give up.”

“Neither will we,” Raven finished, quiet and fierce.

He could tell that they truly believed what they said, and he willed himself to do the same.

2,059 DAYS

Clarke’s words did not stop coming. Slowly, their tone seemed to shift to something like determined optimism. A little over half a year later, she reported that they had found other nightblood children hiding away in Polis, and had managed to convince them to join their ranks. Together, with the oldest of the eight, they continued to attempt to remove the rubble blocking the bunker, to no avail.

“But if I know your sister,” she told him, “there’s no way she isn’t still fighting.”

He smiled a bit, gazing out one of the windows he so often evaded of late. 

The repairs to the rocket were nearly finished. Various studies were completed that could prove helpful to the planet below. Raven now estimated they would be on the ground in a few months.

Hope flared in him, and he clutched to it with all he had.

2,061 DAYS

“Madi found this spot for us the other day, overlooking Azgeda territory. The mountains.” 

Bellamy’s crew was prepping for the trip to the ground.

“It’s so beautiful. She told me she wants us to come here everyday so that I can talk to you, and she can have her lessons in peace.”

Each day, information was finalized, forecasts were checked. Trajectories. Emergency procedures.

“Her English is so good. You can barely hear the accent anymore. I’ve said it before, but you really would love her, Bellamy. All of the kids, I think.”

He glanced up from the inventory list he was reviewing at her final statement.

Exercising reason was key to surviving up here. He managed it well enough, though his dreams were exempt from control. As the remaining days until the departure dwindled, his dreams seemed to explore both the greatest joys and the worst horrors of his imagination. They fluctuated randomly, and he desperately wished for something to force them away altogether. Last night, it was one of the too-good ones (though the too-bad ones usually started that way). 

He stood on that overlook she’d described at dusk, surveying a sort of party. Madi—who usually appeared in his dreams suspiciously similar to a young Octavia—played with the other Grounder children around a fire, leaping and twirling. The rest of the Ark crew sat in their own parties: Monty and Harper—who cradled an infant in her arms—and John and Emori, smiling down at the child. Echo, sitting stoically with Roan, was dressed like an Azgeda queen. Raven was laughing with Sinclair over some broken device, her leg brace gone; Jasper was drunkenly slow-dancing with Maya, howling the lyrics to some song and dipping her in his arms. Kane and Abby stood by Thelonious and Wells Jaha, chuckling warmly with Miller and Bryan. 

And just across the clearing, Bellamy’s sister met his eyes from where she sat with Lincoln, flashing a grin. 

Best and worst of all, he felt no fear, no guilt when Clarke Griffin appeared at his side, rising on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek like it was the most natural act in the universe. She smiled at him fondly, hair shorn to her jaw, and handed him a glass before lifting one of her own. “How about that drink?” she said quietly, eyes sparkling in the firelight as they had on a night years before. 

It was an impossible future by all accounts, he told himself. And for that he was grateful. 

2,199 DAYS

“Medical stock is good,” Murphy said flatly as he entered the control room with Emori.

“So is fuel,” piped Harper.

“And water,” said Echo.

Bellamy nodded at them, marking the items off his list. “Good. Raven, is the final check done on the repairs?”

“Yeah,” she panted, swiping a hand over her forehead. She held her helmet under her arm. “Everything looks right.”

“And probably won’t explode,” Monty added cheerfully from her side, also in his suit. 

Bellamy breathed in through his nose. “Even better.”

Everything was set for them to leave, but the weather forecast suggested it was best to wait another two to three days. He’d be damned if they stayed a moment longer than that, regardless of what it predicted.

“Hey, Clarke should be on,” Harper said, walking to the radio and clicking it on. He didn’t look up from where he worked, but listened closely as the familiar high-pitched squeal broke into static, and then her voice.

“—can hear me—if you’re alive—it’s been 2,199 days since Praimfaya.”

The crew settled around the room as her relaxed voice filled it.

“I don’t know why I still do this everyday, maybe it’s my way of staying sane, not forgetting who I am—who I was. It’s been safe for you to come down for over a year now, why haven’t you?”

He stopped writing, as he always did when she said things like that.

“The bunker’s gone silent too, we tried to get them out for a while, but… there was too much rubble, I haven’t made contact with them either. Anyway, I still have hope—”

You still have hope? she’d asked him in Arkadia six years before, voice thick with tears.

He didn’t know where his next words came from. But it was a fact, and those were good—certain. We still breathing? he’d replied.

They were. 

“Tell Raven to aim for the one spot of green and you’ll find me. The rest of the planet from what I’ve seen basically sucks. So—”

His head bobbed up as her words cut away, feeling concern spreading amongst the others as the moments passed. And then—

“Never mind,” she breathed, “I see you.” 

“What the fuck?” Murphy blurted. 

Bellamy blinked in bewilderment, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he practically threw down his tablet, surging for the radio. He pressed the call button as hard as he could. “Clarke,” he rasped. “Clarke.”

Raven’s voice was thin. “Bellamy—”

He cursed, bringing his fist down onto the speaker with such force that it crackled and keened. “Enough,” he barked, turning to the others, their faces drawn. He pointed at the window.  “I do not give a shit if the third apocalypse is waiting for us down there. We have to go—”

Someone else said his name, but he couldn’t—

Who did she see—

Ice kissed his throat, and he jolted. Hands clamped down on his arms. 

But all he saw was Echo, glaring at him over her short-sword she always carried, the blade’s edge poised at his jugular. “Kom ai tombom, ai nou slip daun,” she hissed. 

To my heart, I do not fall.

He panted, blood pounding in his ears.

The only way to make sure we survive, Clarke whispered in his head, Is if you use this, too. A phantom finger tapped his temple. 

He relaxed his muscles with a shallow gasp, and waited. The grips on his arms loosened, but Echo did not retreat until he met her eyes. She read his, and stepped away, lowering her weapon. 

They watched him warily. “Raven,” he croaked. “Check the forecast again.”

He didn’t look at her as she complied, fingers clicking rapidly over a keyboard. “It’s the same,” she reported tightly. “Strong storms across Clarke’s region over the next two days, clearing out on the third.”

“She definitely saw a ship,” Monty said quietly. “You could hear it.”

“We haven’t seen another ship in six years,” Emori choked.

“Wait.” They all looked at Raven. Her brow narrowed, then her eyes widened. “I—hang on. Hang on.” She limped out of the room, Monty glancing back at them in confusion before following her. Harper went next, then Emori. Soon, all seven dashed through the corridor, Bellamy and Murphy at the tail.

Raven sat before a screen in one of the labs, typing frantically. “All records were synced from Becca’s lab. I’ve read them all since we got here, and there was one… Shit, what was it—here.” A window popped up, containing what appeared to be an old article. The headline read:

CONTACT LOST WITH ASTROID MINING PENAL COLONY

“It was called the Eligius Mining Company,” she explained. “Jackson and Abby… God, it was so long ago, and I’m pretty sure I thought I was imagining it with Becca in my head, but they found some stuff about this while researching nightblood. Which should be in the database…” She made a triumphant noise and another window popped up. “This must have been the record they saw. Criminals were sent to space in hypersleep for long-duration missions. And Becca was supposed to give them nightblood to protect them from solar radiation.” She laughed once and sat back, breathless.

“So… they’ve been woken up, now,” Harper ventured carefully. “Sent back to earth?”

“I mean, it has to be them,” Raven said. “We couldn’t track them on the Ark because they aren’t in range—there are plenty of viable astroids to be mined. Tens of thousands.”

Monty remarked, “Maybe we never found them because we never really looked. Earth was always the priority.”

“Did you say criminals?” Murphy asked.

Everyone went quiet. 

“It’s the same,” Bellamy murmured. “It’s the same as six years ago. A batch of delinquents sent to the ground… But Clarke is the Grounder, plus Madi and the others. They might be the only ones. Everyone else is still in that bunker—”

“Mountain men,” Echo whispered. He nodded, grim. 

“We can’t land yet,” Raven said, shaking her head absently. “We have to get to her—alive. We can’t risk leaving too soon.”

“And if they kill her and the kids first?” Murphy said. 

Emori smacked his arm. “John.” 

“What?”

“They won’t,” Bellamy said firmly, reading the bolded words on the screen a final time before meeting their eyes, one by one. “Because they don’t know what they’re dealing with.”

A slow, feral grin spread over Echo’s face. “Wanheda.”

“No,” he said, thinking about the walls of the prison cell, covered in images of Earth. “Hope.”

[zombierunfiction]

Season 1 Mission 9: Recovery

Nearly a week later Charlotte had completely healed from her late night run and was slowly getting closer to Sam.  They spent a lot of time when he wasn't watching out for the runners spending time together.  He showed her all around Abel including the closet where they kept the board games that they had found from runs.  

Charlotte actually felt hopeful for the first time since the event happened.  Currently she was sitting in the mess hall talking to Jack and Eugene over bowls of oatmeal.

"So Charlotte how's it going on those runs?  I've noticed our sports bra supply is getting bigger."  Jack said with his playful british accent.

Charlotte rolls her eyes.  "Hey there's a lot of women here in Abel and sports bras are a need."

"Your last run yesturday brought in 8 of them!"  Eugene said being one of the few Americans in Abel.  

"Not my fault."  Charlotte said holding up her hands.  "Besides if i remember correctly Sara brought in several pairs of underware the day before."

Both Jack and Eugene started laughing hard as Janine steps over.   Charlotte had yet to meet her in person but she looked exactly how she imagined the land owner to look.  Dark brown hair with a deep farmers tan that melded well with her green eyes.  

"Runner Five we need you to go on a run."  Janine said briskley.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow.  "I didn't hear any annoucement."

Janine rolls her eyes.  "Well now you have so get your gear and let's go."  She said roughily as she walked out of the mess hall.

"Woo... someone has a bee in their bonnet."  Jack whispered as Eugene gently pat Charlotte on the arm.  

"Go on.  It might be important."  Eugene said as Charlotte nodded and quickly walked to the packs.  She got her pack on then grabbed her axe tieing it into her pack.  She put on her head set then walking towards the gate.

"Raise the gates!"  Sam says as the alarm goes off while the gates rise.  "Runner Five, ready... gates are open... covering fire."  The gun shots start to ring out.  "and... go!"  Sam said as Charlotte took off away from Abel.  "So... just checking my mission sheet for your status... yeah, that's not a mission sheet.  You've seen my office or should i say, corrugated iron hut we decided was no good for a latrine, with enough electricity from the generator to power the transmitter, but not enough some days for, oh, I dunno, light?"  Sam said almost bitterly.

Charlotte chuckled.  "You're office is just like you Sam.  A mess but a very organized mess."

"I'll take that with the love that was intended."  Sam says with a grin.  "Did you hear that Janine?  It's okay.  Don't you worry about me Runner Five.  Just trying to keep everything together here while Janine..."  There was rustling around before Sam taks away from the mic.  "What are you doing with the electricity, Janine?"

"Remember, you're in MY house Mr. Yao."  Janine states harshly.

Sam chuckles slightly.  "Yeah, I thought we did away with private property after the whole, you know, end of civilization?  Remember that?"

"I remember this place was my farm house before all of you arrived.  And I remember I am the only one who knows where all the junction boxes are, because I wired the place myself.  So, yeah, those tools we were expecting from the military base would be pretty useful right now.  Any word on that?"  Janine said  sounding rather miffed.

"Ah, yeah... right, right, right... Yeah, so uh... we're sending you back to your helicopter today, see if there's anything you can, uh, find in the wreckage.  And I've got a surprise for you..."  Sam said with a smile as foot steps run over as Sara runs over with a green army hat on that held her hair under her hat.

"Hey there Five!  Remember me, your old pal, Runner Eight?"  

Charlotte shook her head.  "Of course I remember you Sara."  

Sara smiles.  "We're on the road together again.  Isn't that great?"  She says coughing roughily.  "We're making good pace here, Five.  We're heading into hostile territory.  You remember from your first run in?  But if we just keep running, and don't stop for too long at the chopper, we'll be just fine."

"Joy.  Not like I am dying to go back there... besides I jumpped out and parachuted down."  Charlotte said as she jumpped over a stump.  

"I'm pretty interested to see what we'll find in that chopper, you know.  That's why I volenteered for this duty."  Sara said as Charlotte glared at her.

"This isn't about you still thinking I brought down the copter is it?"

Sara looks at her.  "You can't be to careful.  I know what people say.  'Don't think about the past, just keep your eyes on survival' but I-"  Sara started coughing hard again.  "Well I just can't help wondering about things.  I mean, I've got the same problems as everyone else.  Lost my husband and my two boys back when the dead took the east.  Had to take them out myself when they came back.  Only had a shovel to do it with."  Sara said as she ducked under a tree branch.  "I never would have thought I had the strength in me, but you know!"  She laughs breathlessly.  "Like they say, we didn't know ourselves 'til this happened.  You never know what you're capable of."

Charlotte looked at her for a moment before looking ahead of her.  That was an understatement.  She was in the same position.  She had taken out several of her former neighbors when the outbreak first began and it was surprising her reaction to it.  She had none.  She didn't feel anything when she had to take out the neighbors that had welcomed her into their Northumberland neighborhood.  

It distrubed her.

"Well, I won't ask your story.  You'll share it when you're good and ready.  No one's story is ever good, is it, Five?"  Sara asked as they got up onto a small hill that led down a road.  "Anyhow, I didn't expect to wind up somewhere like Abel Township.  For a while there, I thought I might go mad!  But turns out... I can run really fast.  I always ran at school and college back when I was a girl, and that's a useful skill these days.  Useful enough for me to earn my keep... in lots of places."  Sara starts to cough again before taking a deep breath.  "Oh this damn cough just won't quit!"

Just as Charlotte was about to comment the sound of a distant cough is heard.  Both girls stopped and looked around, listening.

"I know I cough loud, but that wasn't an echo."  Sara whispered.

"No... someones out here other than zoms..."  Charlotte whispered back before a groan hit their ears.

"We've got more company!"  Sara shouted as she grabbed Charlotte's wrist taking off down the road as zombies began chasing them quickly.

"Hey Runner Five, Runner Eight - you're out of range for Runner Eight's transmitter, but I guess you can still hear me.  You're getting close to the chopper, and we've got more movement - hostiles behind you, just like we expected, but something up ahead too."  Sam said.

"No kidding Sam!"  Charlotte shouted as she dodged away from an abandoned car following Sara.

"Watch yourselves, because I -"  Sam sighs heavily.  "Janine, is this really nescessary?"

"Unless you want the whole base's electricity to go down in the middle of the night, I've got to replace this wiring right here."  Janine said matter-of-factly.

Sam sighs heavily.  "Yeah, apparently it can't wait.  They're switching off transmission AND scanner."

"So complete radio silence?" Sara said.

"Only for a few minutes!  You're on your own guys, You'll be fine."  Sam consoled.

"Unless we turn on each other, hey?"  Sara joked as the distant coughing happened again.  "Who is that coughing?"

"Okay... I'll be back in just a few minutes.  Sorry about this guys.  You know, if i could it all myself..."  Sam says slowly.

"You've be a very valuable asset to this base, Mr. Yao."  Janine said as static comes over the radio before silence hits them.

The coughing continued then began having a wheezing sound joinning it.

"So we're on our own, huh?  Just as we reach the chopper, and..."  Sara said as they got to the trees where the wreckage of the chopper laid among broken trees.  "holy... is that..."  Sara said as Charlotte looks in horror.  

"My pilot... yes..."  She breathes as she looked back seeing the zoms and seemed to lose interest in them.  They walked towards it slowly.  

"That girl... she's reanimating from the dead right now.  She must have been left half eaten like that, strapped into her seat in the chopper..."  Sara said as the woman was fighting against her seat belt.  Her face was half eaten as she fought hard.  The sound of fabric ripping is heard.  "Now she's... oh hely mary, mother of god!"  Sara said fast.

"Run!"  Charlotte shouted taking off grabbing Sara this time as the pilot broke free of her seat belt and scrambled after them fast.  "Holy shit i thought she died in the crash!"  She said as they weaved through the trees.

"Good thought.   Damn who was this girl?  A sprinter?"  Sara asked as Charlotte lept over a boulder chancing a look back seeing the pilot stumbling after them groaning loudly.

"She was just my ride.  I didn't even know her name."  Charlotte said fast.

"Hey Five.  I've got a plan.  We've got to find out what's in that chopper!  So if you - I know how this sounds, but just trust me -"  Sara starts.

"Yea like that's not the first time I've been told that."  Charlotte said with a laugh.

Sara smirks.  "If you circle round that way, she'll chase you.  I'll head back around quietly to the chopper to see what I can find.  Deal?  Okay I'll catch up to you.  Remember -  the newly reanimated are the quickest.  Run really fast!"  Sara broke off heading in one direction as Charlotte headed off fast.  She heard the pilot running after her hot on her heels.

It took her a bit to finally shake the pilot but after dropping down a small hill and running up the other side.  She jogged over to Sara who was picking at the chopper.  In the distance zombies were groaning and the snapping of branches signalling their approach.  

"I lost her.  Thankfully."  Charlotte said as she took off her bag.

"Good.  Got them!"  Sara said as she was stuffing the electronic equipment into her bag.  "Here, I can't carry all this, you take some."  Charlotte nodded taking the rest of the electronics.  Sara reached in the dash and pulled out something.  "Well, you know what I found back there?"  She pulled it out showing Charlotte's Mullin's Base Military ID.

Charlotte looked at it.  "My ID."  She said simply.  "Still think I'm the one who shot it down?"  She asked almost bitterly.

"It's looking pretty good for you.  There's your picture, there's your military cred.  Guess you're just a raw recruit like the rest of us, huh?"  Sara said as Charlotte gave her a look.

"If being a lieutenant is a raw recruit then yea."  Charlotte said sarcasticly as she reached for the ID only for Sara to pull it back.

"Now, I hope you don't mind, Runner Five, but I guess I'll be handing this to the head of runners when we get in.  Just because, you know, a bunch of us were wondering who you really were, and this... Well this is looking really great for you.  Imagine what I would have to do out there If I'd found someone else's ID in that chopper?"

Charlotte glared at her and stood up zipping up her pack.  "Stop speaking in riddles Sara.  I don't appreciate it."

"Just imagine.  Wouldn't have wanted old Sam to hear that.  He's a good kid."  Sara probed zipping her bag.

"Don't you dare-"  Charlotte said just as static came over their head sets as Sam's voice appeared again.

"And... we're back!"  Sam said excitedly.

"Yep.  Got you all hooked up again back here. Even boosted your signal a bit."  Janine said.

Sam chuckled softly.  "Did I miss anything?"

Charlotte stared at Sara for a long moment.  Sara had started out very suspious of her and even when she found proof, she still seemed hesitant.  And to bring Sam in on this was bellow the belt.

"No Sam you didn't miss anything."  Charlotte said tensely as Sara and her started to jog away from the chopper.

For a bit the two ran in silence before Sara pushed her mic up so Sam didn't hear.  "You know, Five,  I didn't know whether to trust you at first.  i've been in that military base myself, you know.  Never saw you there."  She said simply.  "But I guess people move around a lot.  Yes I was there, well, it must have been nearly five months ago!  Just after the outbreak hit."  Sara said running along the road they took to get there.  "They gave us all these shots, told us it might be a vaccine.  Might be a punch in the eye, you know?"  She chuckles softly.

Charlotte looked at her with a stone face.  The military had taught her that no matter your personal feelings fellow soliders stuck by you.  They trusted you until you gave them a reason not to trust you.  She had done nothing to Sara to warrent the mistrust.

"A lot of people thought they had a vaccine back then.  Remember how they said on the news?  'It's like small pox; it's like rabies!  We'll have a vaccine in a few weeks.'  Yes pie in the sky!  But a bunch of us thought we could make it to family down south.  We'll I guess you know how those journeys turn out.  I was lucky to find Abel Township before I got bitten."  Sara coughed hard again.

"Is this conversation going to continue on or do you have a point somewhere?"  Charlotte asked.

Sara looked over at her.  "I keep in contact with a bunch of those people back in the base, and I guess it's my job to say you and me - we've got to talk sometime, Five.  About Project Greenshoot?"  Charlotte looked at her in shock.

Sara was her contact about Project Greenshoot.  

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Season 1 Beginning

[constantgamer]

Missing Out on My Good-bye

I spent my entire youth in the company of close friends. My family moved from city to city chasing my dad's dream. He did very well for himself and he made sure that I was fed, safe, and educated. I was such a good boy, In every picture I see, because I honestly cant remember that far back, I am smiling like a goofy kid. As they years go by in photographs I can see my smile fading. I dont know what started it, but I can remember the first day I went bad. I was 17, it had frozen and school was canceled. My dickhead boss that paid me $1.75 per hour called me and said I had to come to work. I knew I was supposed to go in, but for the first time I chose not to do something I was supposed to do. I didnt call or try and make up an excuse, I just didnt. We didnt have cell phones then so getting a hold of someone who wasnt at home and didnt show up to work was impossible. I sat in my beat up ford escort in the parking lot next door to my job and smoked cigarettes and listened to the radio for about an hour. Then I went home, and on the way I felt anxiety about how much trouble I would be in when I arrived and my dad had found out I didnt go in. Walked in the door, mom said some greeting but didnt look mad, walked past the office and dad didnt say a word. I went upstairs and sat down at my desk and I remember every time the phone rang, Pins and Needles. But my boss didnt call. I ate dinner, showered, talked on the phone, and then went to bed. I remember thinking, man that was sooooooo easy, I got worked up for nothing. That was I guess the beggining of my downward slide. There is this mental structure your parents can discipline into you, a fear of failure. If everytime you fail they yell at you, the anticipation of being yelled at prevents you from giving up. However, once you cross that line and you realize that there isnt really anything wrong with saying fuck it, its all a social mind fuck, failing isnt scary. And boy did I test the limits, the next day I just didnt go to school. I left like I was going to school, but stopped in a neighborhood nearby and smoked cigarettes and listened to the radio. Wrote myself a doctors not and signed it with my own signature, and then walked into the school, gave the note to my assistant principle and then walked out. The note said I had contracted a serious illness of a personal nature and that I would require an undetermined number of days off school, and that my school work and lessons were to be collected every week and that I would study from home. And they fucking bought it. Both my folks worked so all I had to do was waste time until they would be gone come home and get on with doing what I wanted. Fuck me, what a dumb ass thing to do. The longer I didnt go to school the more difficult it became to go back. Sure I was picking my work up but I hadnt done any tests or in class work. I kept up in all honesty every few days I would hit the books for an hour and get the basics. About 2 months went by, I was stressed every day I was sure my house of cards would colapse, but it didnt. Not because I was a genious, which I sure thought, but because nobody really knew or remembered me. A transfer kid from another state, no friends, no memories. I remember the day it fell apart, I did what I had done for 5 months, school was going to be out for summer so I needed to get back in. I had already thought about how to rejoin the school, I was just going to go to class early one day and sit down like I had been going the whole time and wing it. But every day came and went and I just hid from my own stupidity. So I left, drove around wasting time, parked my car in the driveway, walked in the back door and up the stairs and I heard my dads voice and froze. He was home sick, and I was busted. He looked at me and asked why I wasnt in school, I said something like I hate it or I dunno. My dad looked at me funny, like I wasnt his kid, shock I guess. So he grabbed me by the arm and said your going to school. I knew it was going to be bad, I tried to have my dad drop me off, and he just drove right up to the front door and said that we had to explain the situation. I will admit for a teenage fuckup I was sharp. I told my dad that I went to the nurses office and that I had an illness of a personal nature and got a pass to leave for the day, and that if he said I was better and returning that I wouldnt get in trouble. We walked into my principles office and he looked at me like I remember you, but I dont at the same time. My dad said my son is feeling better and can go back to class. Principle said okay, well we are glad he is feeling better, thanks for letting us know, dad said is there anything else that needs to be done, principle said nope, I got up started to walk out thinking I was the greatest schemer of all time. And then my principle remembered who I was. He said wait, how many days have you been absent and started punching keys, my dad said oh he was just out for the first class today , hes feeling better, and that was that. I fessed up before they delved any deeper, I remember feeling so calm as I explained everything. Loosing my job, thinking I would just take a week off, and the days turned to weeks and then to months. The strangest thing happened, my principle got up and calmly shut his office door and pulled the blinds closed. He sat down right in front of ne and my dad and said.. This is not going to work out well for me, for you, or you. Thats right, there is a law that says I had to go to X number of days in a school year and I was way short. I hadnt really thought that when I sold my principle that lie that it was his job to catch me. And that he failed to notice or check back on the situation. He was trying to be a board member of education or some crap. He blatantly spoke of how he would not get the spot if word of what I had done got out. He then asked to speak with my dad alone and I was happy to get out of there. I ran out front and started chain smoming cigarettes. About 20 mins later my dad came out. He said alright, you are supposed to go to class, if anyone asks you were sick and are better now. And I thought to myself wow thats it. My dad must have seen me smile and said, your going to be sorry. I had to stay at school for 5 hours every day after classes. I had to do anything they asked, like clean desks, or log books, fill oyt paperwork, clean stuff, repair stuff, paint stuff. Anything they could think of I had to do. I had to take a series of tests for each class to prove I knew the material. And then after school got out for the summer I had to do so much work. I became an indentured servant to the school from 8 to 8. I managed to fullfill the requirements my principle laid out and they gave me a diploma and let me walk. At home it was more of the same, grounded no phone, no tv, no outside. I had no friends, and a sense that I was separated from those around me. After that I was never the same, I fucked up every opportunity I was given and nobody cared. I failed out of college, wasted a lot of ny dads money,. Tried to go back and wasted my own money. I jumped from job to job, never really got any respect, I have never owned a home, found a girl worth marrying wbich almost saved me but she died in a car wreck, and we had no kids. In the fall of my life I just now realized how far from the beaten path I strayed. I have no friends, or love interests, no skills, or education. I am addicted to drugs, and lieing, staying up late and good at going unoticed. I cant go back and fix my life, and I cant move forward in my current situation. I try and get a job that pays enough to support myself but nobody will hire me, its as if they can see through my paper lies and dont want me. I think I am going to end my terrible run of things soon I am so tired of being a failure. My dad looks at me like I am not his son, he stopped trying to motivate me a long time ago. Everyone that is a part of my life wontvlook me in the eyes. I see pity and sorrow in the faces of my life. This situation is of my own doing, and I blame nobody but myself. I honestly just dont want to be alive anymore. Watching everyone around me getting married, and promoted, becoming a dad, creating something, matterung to someone. All I feel is pain and remorse, and a feeling that I missed out. I think its time for me to depart this hell my life has become and get some answers to some questions I have been wondering about for some time. I thought about something today which I think is what will give me the strength I need to accomplish what I am planning to do next. Its been over 3 years since I felt the touch of another human beings skin on my own. No hugs or kisses, no hand in hand, no arm around the waist. I go to sleep alone, wake up alone, and the only people I communicate with are on the web and dont know me. My biggest regret is that I really wanted to be someones dad. I wanted to provide what my father gave me to a copy of myself like he did. But that time has cone and gone too. My advice to anyone who reads this is to make sure anyone you love knows it. You can never tell if you are saying your last goodbye or not.