#ezra x oc: clara

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Taking Root

A/N: This was supposed to be a micro-fic based off of a prompt sent to me when I was trying to kickstart the creative juices again, and it just... didn’t want to stay short. Which is just fine with me. This takes place roughly two years after Point of No Return (and the still upcoming epilogue/sequel Petrichor- I dropped a few hints about what to expect in that series here). It could probably be read as a standalone story, but it really should be read along with the main story for that universe. Huge thank you to @valkblue​ who sent the prompt that sparked this one shot!! Thanks, Angie!! <3 

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none at all. this is very very soft. 

Prompt: One character ruffling the other’s hair 

Summary: After everything that Clara has done for Ezra and Cee, the two of them team up to make sure that her birthday is a special one. 

“Are you sure she won’t be back before we’re done?” 

Cee asked the question as she dropped a stack of wooden slats next to the porch steps. They landed with a soft clanking thud in the spongy grass near the toolbox Ezra had just set down. Up on the porch, Number Four jumped at the sudden sound, her stubby legs splayed in different directions as she toppled to her side. Abe, on the other hand, remained curled up on the doormat in the shape of a plump honey loaf, one orange ear twitching towards the source of the noise and deeming it nothing worth waking over. The smaller gray and white cat scrambled to her feet, letting out a tiny mewling yell as she tottered over to Abe’s side and tucked herself under his tail. 

Brushing her palms together, Cee glanced over her shoulder at the long gravel driveway, as though expecting to see puffs of pinkish dust kicking up under the crunch of tires. Finding it empty, she turned back to face him, her lopsided frown almost comical to Ezra. No reason to fret, we have plenty of time. 

“Of course I’m sure, Birdie.” He shifted his weight and tilted his head, left hip jutting out for his hand to rest on. “When have I ever steered you wrong?” 

With a roll of her eyes, the girl snorted. “How about last week? When you told me to turn right on Plox Street instead of left, and then we ended up on the other side of town, three zones from where we were supposed to-”

“I did not intend for you to take that question so literally,” he responded through a smirk, eyes narrowed in faux irritation. “Besides, we did eventually end up in the correct location, and in doing so we discovered a new route to the Med Center.” Arching one eyebrow, he held up his pointer finger. “One that is much more scenic, I might add.” 

Cee tilted her head to one side and then the other. “Yeah, yeah.” Her frown finally faded into a smile that brightened her whole face. Though he wouldn’t know it for months after they came to be one another’s family, the girl’s smile - when it was genuine, when she was actually happy and it wasn’t forced or unsure - was infectious in the best way. As soon as he saw it, Ezra’s own cheeks pulled up in a grin. Because  I am not immune to its shine. “It was a nicer ride.” 

Beginning as soon as her second rainy season at the farm came to an end, Ezra had been teaching Cee to drive Clara’s truck. And she is taking to it like a lakefowl to water. Not that I am the least bit shocked there. Their lessons had started small, not leaving the property until she was comfortable with the pedals and controls. Once she was, Ezra let her drive short distances into town, always in the passenger seat giving calm encouragement, directing her on when to use signals, and reminding her to keep an eye on the power gauge. When trips to the butcher and the farm supply became simple enough for her, Clara suggested that Cee be the one to drive Ezra to his appointments at the Med Center, where he was being fitted for his prosthetic. 

Finally.

After just over two years of fighting, frustration, failed muscle matter scans, grueling physical therapy exercises and an endless regimen of pharmaceuticals, he had been approved to receive a fully integrated mechanical arm to replace the one he’d lost on the Green. 

Finally. I… I miss it. 

He was still a few weeks away from the surgical procedure to attach it, but he had already been fitted with the brace mechanism that his new right arm would connect to - a series of metal fasteners that had been surgically fused to the bones of his shoulder and humerus. Shrugging his right shoulder, he rolled it backwards and felt as the material of his t-shirt skated over the fasteners. It was an odd sensation, and an even odder thing to think about how the six knob-like devices were embedded into his skeletal structure. Soon they would be covered not by his clothing, but by his arm. 

And then I will be able to do things that I have not done in far too long. 

A flood of ideas crashed through his mind then. Holding Clara closer and more tightly than he had in seven years was, of course,  at the forefront. But it was followed by much simpler things. Like regaining his penmanship, lacing his boots without the use of a hook, peeling potatoes or chopping leeks in the kitchen, helping in the Thulian fields, having a catch with Siggi - and now Cee - at the end of harvest feast. They were things he was so ready for that the excitement kept him up at night, the phantom nerves of his lost limb itching with how close they were to feeling again. 

But first there was a project to finish. 

On Kamrea, and in the farmlands specifically, it was tradition to give handmade gifts to celebrate birthdays, and Clara’s was fast approaching. The previous year had been consumed by Ezra’s return and recovery, getting Cee settled into her new life, and planning and hosting Sig and Runa’s wedding. With so many moving parts and all at once, birthday gifting had taken a backseat. 

Clara still made sure to have something for Cee, though. 

He recalled the gobsmacked look of surprise on the newly turned 15 year old’s face as Clara handed her a small, brightly wrapped package after dinner, the look transforming into one of pure delight as she slid one finger between the paper to open it, revealing a hand painted photo frame. In it was a picture Siggi had snapped of Cee with Ezra and Clara at the Harvest feast a few months prior. There had been tears then, the girl flinging her scrawny arms around Clara’s neck in thanks. 

That memory warmed his chest as much as the midday starshine warmed his skin. 

Oh, Huckleberry, Birdie and I are both so lucky to have you. And I’m the luckiest of us three, for I have you both. 

Now that things had more or less calmed down for the three of them, Ezra had been eager to get back to the tradition. He had always put thought and effort into the things he chose to make for Clara, often using his time away on the Green to brainstorm ideas. It helped keep him from feeling too homesick, thinking of ways to make the woman he loved smile. Because that smile is still the most glorious sight these eyes have ever seen. It always will be. Past gifts had included the swing hanging from the crater-oak beside the creek as well as the windchimes that graced the front porch of the house. The fact that both of those objects remained in place even through his absence from the farm was not lost on him, and he looked forward to giving her something else that would become a part of their home. 

And this time he had an accomplice in Cee, the girl just as excited to have the chance to give Clara a gift as Ezra was. In fact, what they were currently in the process of building had been Cee’s idea. 

And it was a perfect one. 

In addition to learning how to drive and finding her feet within the Kamrean school system, Cee had also spent much of the last year and a half learning about Thulian - and plants in general - from Siggi. She’d seen the harvest right away, and after that, the preparations for the rains. But it was what she learned when the planting season came around again that seemed to strike a chord with her, the care and tending that went into helping things grow. Coming in from the fields one day while Clara was in town, her light hair stained pink with pollen powder and an enthusiastic shine in her eyes, she had informed Ezra that she knew what she wanted to make as a gift.

“But I’ll need your help,” she’d told him, biting her lower lip. “I’ve never built anything before. I’ve fixed things, like my headphones but- ” Her forehead creased as she shrugged. “But that’s electrical stuff. Wiring. I… I wouldn’t know where to start when I comes to wood and-“

Ezra chuckled. “Well, you can start by telling me what it is that you would like to construct, Birdie.” Reaching forward, he brought his hand up to the top of her head, brushing the Thulian powder from her hair and tousling the strands. Cee clicked her tongue in what Ezra knew to be false annoyance, the girl only half able to pull off a very unconvincing frown. The look only made Ezra’s smile lift higher. “If it is something I can assist you with then I promise that I will.” He arched one eyebrow, tilting his head towards his right shoulder. “Do, however, keep in mind that my carpentry abilities have been somewhat limited since the last time I took up a hammer.” 

Cee shook her head, her now powderless hair swaying around her shoulders with the motion. “I just need you to tell me what to do and… make sure I don’t muck it up.”

“Well then I’ll have an easy job, Cee. I have yet to witness you do a single task poorly.” Ezra brought his hand to his hip, shifting his weight to one leg. “Now, will you tell me what it is you want to build? Or should I venture a guess?” 

It was her turn to let a small amused huff slip through a smirk. “I could make you guess, but the idea is to have it finished before Clara’s birthday.” 

That made him laugh, this one more full. “Alright then, Little Bird.” He dipped his chin, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. “Let’s hear it.” 

She told him that she wanted to design and build a trellis for the front porch. Siggi had shown her how they were used in last season’s fallow field to help the newly planted Thulian stalks grow while they were still establishing roots. “It’s, well the porch is where we all spend a lot of time and-” She paused, taking a breath and not at all trying to hide the slight shake in it. “And a trellis is like… it’s like what Clara - and you - have done for me. Are doing for me. And I-” 

Ezra reached for her then, not to ruffle her hair this time, but to pull her into a hug. Her arms - still thin but now noticeably stronger as a result of farmwork and full meals - wound immediately around his torso. She gave a small squeeze that he returned, along with a quick peck to the top of her head. “It’s perfect, Cee.” He released her, pulling back to look at the girl who had become such an important part of his life. “Clara is going to love it.” Just like she loves you. Just like I do. 

“Okay, but seriously.” Cee bent down to pick up one of the wooden pieces, using it to gesticulate at the porch steps and snapping Ezra out of his daydream. He followed where she had indicated, his eyes landing on the framework for an arched trellis that was partially in place. “We’ve been working on this for two days already. Are you sure we’re going to finish in time?” 

Ezra stooped down with a grunt to open the tool box. “I am, Little Bird.” He handed her a hammer, her fingers wrapping surely around the grip. “The Kamrean Agricultural Authority’s annual convention is a seven cycle affair. Clara and Sig will not be back for another few days, which gives us plenty of time to finish constructing the trellis and to plant the seedlings.” Pulling a handful of nails from the box, he jumbled them around in his palm before selecting one to pass to her, pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger while the rest curled inward to keep the other nails from spilling into the grass. “You worry too much, you know that, right? We are making good time. In fact I would dare to say that we’ll have this finished by supper.” 

She lined the piece in her hand up to the framework, matching the pre-drilled holes to the markings that Ezra had shown her how to measure out. Letting out a sigh, she waited for him to replace her hand on the slat with his own, holding it still so she could drive the nail to attach it. “If you say so.” She set the nail, pinching it carefully as she readied the hammer. “Did you decide what we were planting in it?” 

Waiting until after she’d finished with that slat, Ezra nodded, handing her another piece of wood from the pile. “That I did, and I think you’ll be happy with my choice, too.” In fact I know you will. I have heard you talk about wanting to see these blossoms extensively. 

Cee scrunched her nose, taking the piece from him and repeating the process. “Me? This is a gift for Clara.” 

Again he waited until she’d whacked the nail, all the while watching to be sure that she wasn’t about to smash her own hand. But she didn’t. See? Like a lakefowl to water. Anything she sets her mind to, this one. “It is a gift for Clara, but it was you who pointed out that we all spend time together on the porch, was it not” 

“Yeah, but…” She trailed off, taking the next board that was handed to her. “Well, are you going to tell me, Ezra? Or am I going to have to guess?” 

He laughed, the sound carrying up onto the porch and again startling Number Four but going unnoticed by Abe. “Actually I am quite confident that you would be able to guess. I’ll even give you a hint.” 

Cee narrowed her eyes and pushed her lips to one side. “Fine. What’s my hint?” She continued on with her task of securing the slats that would act as a ladder for the vines of the climbing flowers Ezra had selected. 

“They can be found in your favorite bo-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the hint, though, Cee’s eyes widening with wonder. “Novalilies?! Ezra? Are… Did you… Are we planting Novalilies?” 

“We are indeed, Birdie.” He grinned. “I knew you’d guess it.” 

Novalilies were the flowering vines that grew over the great archway leading to the Bowsum Conservatory - a place that Ezra had taken Clara so many years ago, and one that Cee had read about so many times that he knew that she could see it in her mind without ever having set foot there. They grew quickly and blossomed into soft white flowers that hung down like trumpets. But the real splendor came at night, when the petals, having soaked up the daylight, twinkled like stars against the dark. 

“I…” She blinked, a smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t know they could grow anywhere but in the Ephrate.” 

“All kinds of things can grow on Kamrea,” he told her. “Thulian, Crater-apples, Novalilies.” With a wink, he passed her the last slat for the side that they were currently working on, lifting his hand up to tousle her hair. “Even skinny little birds.”

.

.

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Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly @fific7 @valkblue @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @disgruntledspacedad @novemberrain221 @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed​ @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfangirl​ @trickstersp8​ @princessxkenobi​ @imtryingmybeskar​ @wildmoonflower​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns​ @pedro-pedrito-pascalito​​

[strange-doll-child]

*stretches out my hands* headcannons?

Why, of course <3

Just random HM ones, some genderbent, some not, some fankid/oc

Had this idea that both duelists tried to cheat during the duel but they both at 7 somehow(They both laughed because of it while bleeding out)

(in the works but)I kinda wanna make Shadow Pianist(Disneyland) and Shadow Pianist(Disney World) two separate people, because I realized my OC story for Victor's brother, Wolfgang, makes a pretty good Shadow Pianist backstory

Not really a hc but I do sorta ship my fankids sometimes, I ship my OrganHost daughter, Katherine, and my Duelist x Shadow Pianist kid, Cassidy

HC that Ezra, Hattie, and Emily all died in the same month(In that order too)

Maid/Butler oc Clara/Clarence, the religious themes in their art were just a stylistic choice but tbh I might legit give them some Religious Mania, as a treat

My fankid Beverly(Alistair x Henry) is probably the only on of my Alistair fankids that would live to adulthood. She'd still get murdered though

Victor Guest & Lady Blue are married and they play music/sing songs together

on the talk of organist relationships, Victor Geist x Sally Slater for the Ghost Post, but tbh that's just canon

I hc the organist in the SLG comic universe to be named Viktor, I just did that so it's not confusing when I type out their names

Myra hunts rats for sport(And gives them as gifts,)

Alicia actually somewhat was upset about killing her mother a little after doing it, but also she can't really do anything about it soooo

Nicholas Crown is a vampire, idc what the Ghost Gallery says

HC the Ghost Host's mortal name as Elias

Clara/Clarence with a God Complex, just listen-(Not set in stone but hsh)

Myra bullies servants w/ her dad, she's a very fussy child

I gave Nelson joint issues, so he has a reason to use that cane now

Clara/Clarence x Alicia/Alistair, toxic relationship

All of my half-human/half-haunt kids can swap between mortal and ghost form

I've been thinking about Clara/Clarence getting executed for killing Alicia/Alistair so-

If I made anyone responsible for killing any of Alistair's kids, it'd be Clarence

I like making personality differences between the ogs and their genderbends, because my friend pointed out how changing their gender would affect a lot of their experiences and how they handle/react to them so yea

Alicia still freaks out about her period sometimes(I won't let her live past her 30s)

There's just a bunch of HCs so 👍 Feel free to ask questions if any

[thetwstwildcard]

Do you have any oc love children? For oc x canon ships

I have several ^^; and am working on art for some of them. My current ships with future children are-

Cater/Catherine: Cassidy(male) and Callista(female)

Vil/Lovette: Cerin(male) and Clara(female)

Leona/Kiara: Adira(female), Quinn(male) and Rori(female)

Jamil/Nasira: Nadia(female), Amir(male) and Kahlil(male)

Rook/Emery: Morgan(female), Alaric(male) and Emilia(female)

Azul/Veil: Liir(male) and Nimue(female)

*Trey/Galatea: Ezra(has both a male and female form)

Idia/Eirlys: Thrace(male)

Chenya/Lyss: Luna(female), Helio(male)[twins] and Laika(female)

*Malleus/Faline: Esme(female)

*Since Galatea died and Trey is a normal human they cannot have children(biologically), however they "made" a child. And made both a male and female form for them to choose. This is not the same for Faline and Malleus. When Galatea gets her body back it is a fixed version of her original body. Faline however gets a completely new body(as she was a cat before becoming a ghost).

[chantelle-x0x]

Chantelle-x0x MCU Writing Challenge 🖤

So for the longest time I’ve wanted to do this because I’m always participating in writing challenges, but I’m a procrastinator so that’s self explanatory. Anyway, this is a song writing challenge (because finding new songs is awesome) with different genres, but there are obviously rules so, here you go with the guidelines  x (Sorry for the amount of rules. They’re really easy to follow though, I promise!) Also, I’m going to make a masterlist once I have like, 5 fics submitted x

All links are lyric video links

One song per person

Two people per song

(I really hope those first two rules are easily understood)

Send me an ask with your song choice and the pairing

Send two songs just incase your first choice is already taken

No underage relationships, no incest and nothing too graphic. Tag accordingly!

No smut! I’m sorry if you don’t like this rule, but it’s a must, however, you can 100% include suggestive content and stuff based around that, but no smut please and thank you!

Pure angst, pure fluff, angsty-fluff, fluffy-angst etc. is all welcome! 

Songs are categorised, but don’t feel obligated to keep it that genre. Play with the song however you want!

Tag me in your fic and tag your fic #chantelle-x0x-songchallenge. If I haven’t reblogged it in 24 hours, send it to me via messages

If the fic is over 500 words, add a read more

Must be an OC or a Reader insert

Some parings include: Chris Evans, Steve Rogers, Pre-serum Steve, Sebastian Stan, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Thor, Scott Lang, Peter Parker, Tom Holland, Peter Quill, Loki, Tom Hiddleston, Tony Stark and T’Challa (Include in the ask if you want to do a pairing other than these, has to be part of the MCU though)

Avengers x Reader is fine, and Platonic!(character) x Reader is awesome as well! Dad!(character) x Daughter!Reader is cool and so is having the reader and character as parents is great as well! AU!ships are accepted!

Endgame spoilers are allowed, but tag them!

You don’t have to be following me, but follows are nice.

I think that’s all, thank you for reading all these rules! Songs are under the cut, and have fun writing!

Due by the 7th of September

Angst

7 Minutes - Dean Lewis

Sunflower (Sierra Burgess) 

I Love You - Billie Eilish | @lexiamarv w/ Chris Evans (x OC)

Dancing with a Stranger - Sam Smith & Normani | @hairdye-enthusiast w/ Steve Rogers

you were good to me - Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Forever - Lewis Capaldi | @flatbottomholland w/ Bucky Barnes

Call Your Girlfriend - Clara Mae

I Don’t Wanna See You With Her - Maria Mena

My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion

Don’t Call Me Up - Mabel

Only You - Cheat Codes & Little Mix

Let Me Go - Hailee Steinfeld & Alesso ft. Florida Georgia Line & WATT

Dear Society - Madison Beer

Why - Shawn Mendes

All These Years - Camila Cabello | @marveling-chrisevans w/ Steve Rogers

Fluff

Falling like the Stars - James Arthur

Hold My Girl - George Ezra

I Think I’m In Love - Kat Dahlia

If I Can’t Have You - Shawn Mendes

I Don’t Care - Ed Sheeran & Justin Bieber

If We Never Met - JOHN.k

Never Really Over - Katy Perry

Sometimes - Ariana Grande

Me! - Taylor Swift & Brendon Urie

Woke Up Late - Drax Project & Hailee Steinfeld

Rock Bottom - Hailee Steinfeld & DNCE

In The Dark - Camila Cabello

Disney

Tale as Old as Time - Beauty and the Beast

You’ve Got a Friend in Me - Toy Story

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Cinderella

A Whole New World - Aladdin | @buckygrantbarnes w/ Bucky Barnes

Can You Fell The Love Tonight - The Lion King

Love is an Open Door - Frozen

When Will My Life Begin - Tangled

I See the Light - Tangled  |  @cevansgirl w/ Chris Evans

Reflection - Mulan

Speechless (Naomi Scott) - Aladdin (2019)

This is Me - Camp Rock 

I’m going to tag some people that may be interest: @whiskey-cokenfanfic, @the-everlasting-dream, @holy-captain, @mercuryriver, @celestialparker, @queen-of-the-avengers, @sincerelyfan, @sgtevanstan (I don’t have many people I talk to in the fandom, heh.)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

For the fruits! 🍓 What’s a fic you’ve written you feel is underrated?

Hello lovely! Hope your Thursday has been a good one! Thanks for sending this along!

🍓What’s a fic you’ve written you feel is underrated?

So I’m choosing to interpret “underrated” as “disproportionately loved by me” here, and to that end it’s always going to be Point of No Return.

It’s a few years old now, and my writing has definitely changed a little, but that story will always be really close to my heart, and any time someone reads it or comments on it I feel like I could fly.

It’s an Ezra x Female OC story - meet Clara, my most beloved (to me) OC that I’ve ever written - that takes place after the events of Prospect but tells the story of a love so strong that even the Green Moon couldn’t poison it even though it tried. It’s what happens when Ezra & Cee show up on Kamrea in need of a place to stay while Ezra recovers from the worst prospecting gig ever, and it’s written in 3 alternating POVs.

I’ve been flirting with a short follow-up series for far too long now, but every day it gets closer to happening. So maybe soon.

Also? Abe the Cat. 🐈

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Ooh, could I read a little more about Petrichor? I love that word.

Hi! Thank you for asking, you absolutely can read more about Petrichor!! (I love that word, too. And the feeling. And the smell.)

So Petrichor is the short epilogue series (that I've put off far too long) to Point of No Return - an Ezra story with a female OC named Clara who I basically want to be. The main story follows Ezra and Cee after the events of the movie, back to a place - and a person - that Ezra once called home. It takes place on my version of Kamrea, specifically on a Thulian Grass farm (think tall pink wheat stalks but fluffier like muhly grass). I've gone a little nuts with the lore/details/background of Kamrea as a planet in this series, but one of the main things that is referenced multiple times is the Rain Season (4 to 6 weeks of - guess what - rain) which comes at the end of the harvest. Petrichor will take place during that time, and it will tie up some loose threads from the main story. That's all I can say without spoiling either PoNR or Petrichor, but here's a small snippet that doesn't give too much away:

It was unlike anything she had experienced before. 

Ezra and Clara had both talked about the rains that would come to wash over the world and how long they would last. They told her how it would start in drips and trickles, drizzling on and off for a few days as though announcing what was to come, letting everyone know that the monsoon was about to let loose. She heard about and tried to picture the way the streams would rise and spill over their banks, the clear water flooding the forest floor. But until she saw it running down the window panes, pooling in puddles on the lawn and turning the pressed dirt driveway to mud, Cee had no real context for the magnitude of Kamrea’s storm season. 

This is more water than I’ve ever seen. 

Leaning her temple against the cool glass, she looked out and up at the sky, at the endless churning of slate gray and deep purple clouds. The occasional rumble of thunder tumbled down as one cluster crashed into another. Sometimes it was low and distant, drumming out a slow beat. Other times it sounded like it was right over their heads, shaking the walls and rattling things on shelves. The first truly loud boom had made her jump and gasp, her eyes widening before they rushed to find Ezra’s across the table, frightened for a second that the roof might cave in or the ground would collapse. 

“Not to worry, little bird.” He’d said it with a wink. “We’re safe and sound in here, I guarantee it.”

--

ask me about my many wips!

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Ezra and Cee working together on a birthday gift for Clara is the story I didn’t know I needed. Their relationship has grown so much since they came back home and I hope this isn’t the last we see of it. Do you have inspo for the flowers? I’m trying to picture them in my head but it’s hard

Hi anon! Hope you’re having a good day and that you’re doing well! It makes me so flippin happy to hear that you enjoyed that little check in with Ezra and Cee. It’s been a while and I’ve missed the PONR family very much.

I can promise you right now that this will certainly not be the last we see of them.

I mean, I have to at least tell the story of how Number Four joined the crew, right? 😉

Ezra and Cee’s relationship has definitely grown a ton, and I look forward to showing some of that as I fill in the timeline between the end of Point of No Return and where they are now.

To answer your question about the Novalilies, I did look for some reference pictures as I was writing and thinking about them. I imagine the archway leading to the Conservatory (as it exists in my head, for this universe, anyway) to look something like this:

But instead of yellow strands of flowers, they’re white, trumpet-shaped blossoms like these:

I hope this helps you get a clearer picture of them! Thank you so much for sending this, and thank you SO MUCH for reading my work. I appreciate it endlessly! 🌾🌸

[the-blind-assassin-12]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

Hi lovely!! Hope you're having a good night/day. Thank you for dropping in with this. I suck am usually not good at self-promotion, so I appreciate the chance to give it a try.

When it comes to one-shots (even though technically I've written other pieces within the same universe), I think I'm most proud of A Clumsy Romance. It's a Nico (house comes with a bird) x f!Reader story that's based on the movie Before Sunrise, and I had a great time writing it. Nico is just a really whimsical, interesting, romantic character who is also sort of a blank slate, and he was a lot of fun for me to play with and gave me a lot of opportunity to sort of stretch my legs so to speak.

Series-wise, I will always have a top shelf place in my heart for Point of No Return. It's my take on a Prospect prequel/sequel, featuring Ezra, Cee & my favorite OC to date, Clara. I had a blast with the worldbuilding and scene setting, and getting the chance to expand on such interesting characters (while creating my own little fictional people) was also a joy. And the best part? It's actually complete.

Unlike Survivor Blues, which is the Series WiP I am most proud of. That one is Joel Miller x f!Reader, and I have SO MUCH MORE planned for it and I MUST get back to it soon because I am itching to write some post-apocolyptic violence. (and some very bloody knuckles gripping fabric.)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

See this picture makes me wonder which galaxy houses Ezra, Clara, and Cee

🥲🥲🥲

Michelle. The fact that you would even mention the PoNR crew in the same context as this image is making me emotional. Thank you for thinking about them. This message truly warmed my heart. 🌸🌾

Also just… how beautiful is our universe, right?! 💫🪐☄️

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Point of No Return - Part Thirteen

A/N: Hi friends. I hope you are having a lovely night. I am over here having a VERY emotional one, because this here is the LAST part of this series (even though there WILL be an epilogue) and... I am feeling a lot of things about it. If you have been following me for a while- or even if you’re new here- you have likely noticed that I have a slight issue with finishing a story or series in a timely fashion. The number of ongoing WiPs on my masterlist FAR outweighs the number of completed works, but today that number increases by one. The fact that this has been one of my absolute favorite stories to work on in all of my years writing only makes my heart even more soft at this moment, and I want to take this time to sincerely thank everyone who has taken part in this journey with me- especially @something-tofightfor​ who has talked me off of several ledges throughout the writing of this story. Thank you for all of your support and encouragement, I flippin’ love you!!

Warning: discussion of injury, illness, mention of character death, and hell, a little bit of zest ;) 

Summary: The Harvest season has come to a close, another year’s worth of work over... but the close of one season always ushers in the start of another.  

Word Count: 6.5k

It wasn’t quite morning yet.

The Harvest Star slept in towards the end of the season, rising nearly an hour later than it did at the onset. When it finally blinked and stretched its rays over the horizon, the light it brought with it was lazy and slow to kindle into flame. Instead of the vibrant orange glow that woke the world only a few weeks prior, a gentle yellow light filled the air, whispering to all those who toiled under its heat in the fields, “you can rest now, you’ve earned it.”  

No one had earned it more than Clara. 

Ezra watched silently as the morning reached through the window panes to sweep across her still sleeping face. She had fallen asleep on her side facing him, one arm bent beneath her pillow and the other extended in the space between their bodies. As night came to collect the two of them, he had felt her fingers trailing over the veins in his left arm, over his palm, the movement slowing until it stalled completely and her hand curled close to his atop the sheets. Now, the gentle gold starshine fell over her closed eyelids to make them flutter, the individual strands of her lashes picking up the light as they fought to stay shut. Ezra had to fight, too, to resist the urge to trace the soft fringe where it lay against her skin, to find the freckles that dusted her shoulder and connect them with the tip of his index finger, run his thumb over the soft skin of her lips before pressing his own against them. 

Let her sleep. Time for all of that later. 

There was time for all of that and so much more, now. At that thought, a slow smile stretched across his face to pull his cheeks wide. Bringing his hand to his chin, in part to keep himself from waking Clara, Ezra slid his fingers over the short, patchy stubble that currently covered his jaw and the sides of his face. The pad of his pinky fit perfectly into the divot left behind from his clumsy attempt at taking care of his own grooming the previous night. It wasn’t deep enough to leave a permanent scar, but for now there was a visible mark. Still, it's an improvement.  He hadn’t shaved since just before he set out for his last trip up to the Green, his beard already starting to become unruly and overgrown by the time he met Cee, and that had been almost three standard Kamrean weeks ago now. The last two of those weeks had been spent there on the farm, and aside from the three blissful days that had turned out to be nothing but fool’s gold, his infection returning and requiring another round of aggressive medications, he had only been safely out of the woods for the last day and a half. His physical appearance had been the furthest thing from his or anyone’s mind while he fought to survive, to stay with Clara and be there for Cee. 

But since the doctor that Clara had spoken with had said that if he made it through the second course of prescribed antibiotics without the fever returning he was in the clear, Ezra had made a decision. In addition to the adjustments that they all were making following his return and Cee’s arrival, he decided that he had to start adjusting to the other aspects of his second chance at life, too. Namely, life without his dominant arm. While his lungs would recover fully albeit slowly over time, there was no restoring an amputated limb. Though the incisions and sutures were already sealed with new skin growth, the wound was still too fresh and new. The bones and muscles in the remainder of his right bicep were still too internally swollen and traumatized for him to be fitted with a prosthetic or to even see a specialist to determine if he was a candidate. 

Don’t go weighing your harvest before you’ve finished in the fields, right? 

He knew that there was a possibility that he wouldn’t be a candidate to receive a new arm; that the type of injury he had sustained, the amount of disease that had plagued his marrow and tendons could disqualify him from going through that process. That assessment was still months away though; after the rains came and went, after the winter chill fell and lifted, after Siggi and Runa’s upcoming wedding. He didn’t want to give himself false hope about what his life would look like going forward only to be disappointed when that false hope crashed. He knew that there were tasks that he needed to start retraining himself to do left-handed that he would normally use his right or both hands for. Using the restroom and taking a shower had been ungainly at first, but he was able to get by. Eating, so long as he didn’t try to use a knife or a spoon, was also a graceless yet manageable task. Anything that could break or spill if he fumbled it he avoided or asked Cee or Clara for help with, because he didn’t want to create an even more inconvenient situation by making a mess- not after he’d dropped an entire canister of tea powder trying to brew a cup for Clara and ended up throwing the brew basket into the kitchen sink in frustration. He hadn’t tried to do anything as ambitious as write with a pen or tie a shoelace yet, nothing that required real finesse or control. But with the Harvest Dinner coming up- his first in five excruciatingly long years- he wanted to look presentable. 

As much as is possible for a man in my position, that is. 

And to him, that meant attempting a shave. Ezra had always preferred the close cut he got with a traditional straight edge razor over the less than satisfactory shave he gave himself when he used multi-bladed tools. When he opened the mirrored cabinet in the bathroom of his and Clara’s room to see that she had kept his silver razor, right there in its case, clean and sharp and ready for him, he took it as a sign that he should try to use it. Clara and Cee were downstairs in the kitchen, finishing up with some dishes before turning in, so he took that as a sign, too, that this was one of the tasks that he may as well attempt on his own.

The left side was easy. There was nothing to relearn or change about his technique there; straight edge razors are meant to be used with the same side hand as the cheek you’re shaving, so aside from the ever present silver arch that cut through his left cheek, the shave was smooth and experienced. He’d even done a relatively clean job of foaming up the right side of his face and throat with the brush. But when he brought his left hand across his body to bring the blade up to his cheek, it was clear that it wouldn’t be simple. The first swipe of the razor took off only a layer of white foam, his angle not quite right, so he turned his chin further, trying to correct course for the next attempt. He could feel his grip start to slip, the awkward position of his hand and arm protesting the strange motion, but he tightened his hold on the handle and brought the razor back up anyway. 

The shake in his fingers caused the blade to slip even more,  and he hissed as it nicked the skin over his jaw. “Fuck,” he bit out, upper lip snared as he turned his cheek to get a better look at the damage. Along with a strip of wiry dark facial hair, he’d removed a small chunk of flesh. Ah, shit. Beads of bright crimson rushed to the raw surface, bleeding red swirls into the white shaving foam that covered the rest of his jaw and throat. Frustration and anger erupted all at once and he threw the razor down into the sink, the heavy metal tool clattering against the porcelain basin dramatically. Letting out a grunt that was close to a growl, he slammed his hand on the counter, sending the canister of shaving cream tumbling to the ground. “Useless fuckin Kevva-damned piece of sh-“

“Hey.”

Clara’s voice came from the doorway behind him, patient and soft, and the tension in his shoulders vanished as he dropped them, letting out a sigh. From anyone else he would mistake her tone of voice as pity, only serving to enrage him further. But not from her. Snapping his eyes up to the glass in front of him, he met her steady gaze in the reflection. Oh, Huckleberry, what did I do to deserve you? 

“Clara…” he croaked out her name, turning as she stooped down to pick up the orange striped can, replacing the lid as she stood. “ I didn’t hear you come up. I’m sorry, I did not mean to cause you any-“ 

“I know, Ezra.” She didn’t let him finish, setting the can on the counter as he leaned back against it. Reaching past him without breaking eye contact, she grabbed the towel that he’d been using and brought it gently to the cut on the right side of his jawline to clean the blood. She pressed lightly with one finger wrapped in the blue fabric against the shallow divot, tilting her head as he raised his hand to encircle her wrist. “Why didn’t you ask me for help, hmm?” 

He swallowed, closing his eyes while she swiped the towel over his skin finally staunching the flow. “Because I need to,” he inhaled as she let the cloth fall into the basin of the sink with a damp plop, letting the breath out and opening his eyes. “I cannot rely on you or Cee or others for everything. I need to be able to do things for myself.” He scoffed then, casting his eyes downward, feeling how they were darkening and not wanting to shed that on her. “I need to get used to…to this.” He nodded at his right arm, lifting the stump an inch or two away from his side to emphasize its abrupt end. 

Clara placed one hand at his waist, the other sliding along the already trimmed and shaved plane of his left cheek, tenderly turning his attention back to her eyes. “Not all at once you don’t.” She swept her thumb over the rounded top of the arched scar, then elevated on tiptoe to kiss the same place. “And in the meantime, I’d rather not have you carve this face up, Ezra.” She kissed him again. “I happen to like it as is.” 

“I am not the capable man that you once knew, Huckleberry.” He shook his head, eyes still locked on hers. “There’s...I am less now.” It felt pitiful to say, pathetic to admit, but a part of him was stuck on the worry that he was no longer enough for a woman like her, no longer enough to be satisfied with his own level of independence. He knew that Clara would never see him that way, that she would never use his situation against him or see him as anything but the man she’d let into her heart, the man that she loved. 

But I want to be… I want to be more for you, Clara. More than this. 

Her answer unstuck that thought all at once. “You listen to me right now, Ezra.” She swallowed before bringing both of her hands to his shoulders, palms pressed to the seams in the sleeves of the shirt he wore, and he felt the weight of her words before she even spoke them. “You are not less. You never were.” Her head jerked from side to side in a quick motion of dismissal, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she was saying had more than one meaning. 

Seth wasn’t your fault. 

That was the subtext to her words as she moved her hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, lacing her fingers there. “We’re going to get through this the way we should have in the first place.” He saw the flash of emotion in her eyes, the threat of tears that she pushed aside. He could see the strength of conviction that she felt as she finished. “Together.” She took a deep breath then, leaning into his chest and laying her right cheek against his left, skin to skin so that her next words could travel directly from her lips to his ear. “You will always be everything to me, Ezra. You will never be less.” 

It was a moment that Ezra knew he would not forget as long as he lived. “You are the only woman in all of Kevva’s creation that I will ever love, Clara,” he responded, wrapping his arm around her back to hold her close. “And I will never stop.”  

He felt the weight in his chest lighten as she ran her fingernails through the hair at the base of his skull. Her soft lips pressed to his cheek once more before she straightened up and pulled back to look at him, and despite the intensity of his feelings for her and the gravity of the things they had just said, he felt a genuine chuckle slip out. Oh, my Huckleberry. Before she could question his reaction, Ezra brought his hand up to her face, pointer finger extended to swipe a dollop of white foam from the tip of her nose. “You had...” he smirked, knowing full well that he looked just as ridiculous with half of his face shaved, the other half still covered in foam as she had looked with it smeared on the tip of her nose. 

Her laughter caused her to fall into him again, her warm breath hitting his skin and making him wonder how he ever let something as trivial as a razor work him up. Straightening back up, she finished uncovering the right side of his face. Her hazel eyes focused on what her fingers were doing, one hand tilting his chin to the correct angle, the other skillfully working to match his right cheek to his left, to clean up the rogue patches of hair that wandered down his throat before she trimmed the mustache she never saw him without. He didn’t know how it was possible, but Ezra felt himself fall more in love with her as she worked. When she was done, once she helped him make sure that all of the excess foam and all of the stray hairs were wiped clean, Ezra kissed her more deeply than he had dared to since he had been home. 

He rested his large palm over the side of her face as his tongue slid into her mouth, coaxing hers to meet it as he tilted his head. The new angle pulled a sudden sigh from her lungs, as though reminding the both of them what he was still capable of. The sound escaped their sealed lips and he groaned in response to the scrape of her teeth along the fleshy inside of his bottom one, her teasing bite a sensation that he had craved like a starving man during the years that they spent apart and one that he would never take for granted again. Nothing. Not the flip in his heart when she sighed or the feel of her fingers making fists in his curls. Not the burning need to take a breath or the desperate desire to dedicate all of himself to every inch of her. Not a single moment. Never again, my Clara. 

They had gone to bed then, continuing the kiss until it devolved into something sloppy and sleepy, dragging the tips of their noses over each other’s skin before pressing their lips and tongues to pulse points, tasting the way that they were speeding up one another’s heartbeats. They let their fingertips and the backs of their knuckles, their palms and the pads of their thumbs find swaths of skin across their necks and backs and abdomens, searching for scars they hadn’t seen before, stretch marks, new clusters of freckles. Though they burned to give each other more, to finally reunite the way that both of their bodies thrummed and vibrated with want to, Ezra felt the way that her touch started to slow, couldn’t fight the way that his own energy was waning. Before he could apologize for not being able to show her just how ardently he loved her, how bottomless his passion for her was, he heard her whisper dreamily into his ear. 

“Time for that later, Ezra.” She yawned in the darkness, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against the freshly shaved ridge of his jawline. “So much time now.”

With that she turned her head to lay one more soft kiss to his lips, one that he returned with tenderness, and then she dropped her head to her pillow, letting her fingers follow the length of his arm into the cup of his palm until both of them had fallen asleep. 

Now, on the last morning of the harvest, while the last vestiges of the season’s bright peachy light finally overtook the lazy yellow glow, Ezra watched as she slowly blinked her eyes open. He listened for that change in her breathing, for the moment when she sighed herself awake with a delicate whimper, and as soon as he heard it, he reached for her chin, thumb and the crook of his index finger gently pulling it towards him, only pausing when her lips were close enough to brush his. “Rise and shine, Clara.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, dropping his tone an octave and closing the nearly negligible space between their lips so that his meaning could not be misunderstood. “It’s later, Huckleberry.”         

—  —  —  —  —  —

Cee had been busy. 

The brew basket for the tea machine needed tweaking so that it could be opened and filled single-handedly. There was only one handrail going down the stairs and it was on the wrong side. There were a number of small adjustments to be made around the house to help Ezra regain his independence, and she had taken note of the things that she could see to herself. So many maintenance based or reparative tasks had been designated as hers for so long that Cee knew her way around a tool kit. She had taught herself how to wire small electronics and appliances, how to take things apart and make changes to springs and latches, and so with Clara’s permission she had begun to retrofit certain things like drawer pulls and door handles. 

“Is this your skilled handiwork, birdie?” Ezra had asked the first time he came back downstairs, not needing help because he’d been able to properly brace himself on the banister that she’d added to the other side of the stairs. 

“Took it from the basement,” she answered with a shrug. “Clara said no one goes down there so…” 

“Well the installation is top of the line, very secure.” He gave her a lopsided grin before narrowing his dark eyes and tilting his head. “Thank you, Cee.” 

Those last three words had made all the worry and fear worth it. They facilitated her understanding of what family was- a group of people who tried to make things better for one another by caring. 

Following the temporary return of Ezra’s fever, Cee had searched for any distraction she could find that would occupy her mind, giving it something, anything, to do but worry. Runa and Sig had stayed with her for most of the first day of Ezra’s short backslide, the friendly-faced young man doing his best to keep her spirits up, telling her about the upcoming Harvest Dinner and how it was one of the best nights of the year. She knew that he was trying to stay positive, trying to give her something to look forward to in describing the event, but just the thought of celebration while Ezra’s fate was in flux again felt wrong, like a heavy weight in her stomach. 

How can we just… but what if he doesn’t…and Clara, how can they expect her to still have a damn party when this is what’s… 

It was Runa who had finally been able to start soothing the fear that was again pulsing through Cee’s blood with every beat of her heart. She had tasked Siggi with brewing some tea for the three of them, tossing him a wink before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, at the place where his smile started to pull at his cheeks. He nudged the tip of his nose against hers and nodded, heading directly for the cabinet where Clara kept the tea canister. 

I don’t want tea. I want-

“Let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” Runa stood from the small kitchen table where she had been sitting next to Cee, the girl looking up in time to see the woman’s braided hair and beaded earrings sway as she cocked her head towards the screen door. 

Cee threw a nervous glance over her shoulder towards the staircase, the halo of light from the upstairs hallway illuminating the wooden stairs. There was no sign of Clara, no creak in the floorboards to signal movement upstairs, and Abe was still curled in an orange ball at the bottom, waiting like the rest of them. Her bottom lip twitched into a thin line as she turned back to nod. “Okay…” she rose to her feet, one hand gesturing behind herself. “But, just...if-” 

“When Clara comes down we’ll go right back inside.” She smiled, but something in it felt warm and unforced, genuine and trustworthy. Because she’s not trying to pretend that...that everything is okay. “I promise.”  

Cee had followed her out onto the porch then, the woman taking a seat on the steps instead of the bench. The daylight was starting to fade as the star sunk low, half of the fiery peach-pink sphere vanishing behind the treeline. There were still clouds of pollen swirling above the Thulian fields though, meaning that the rest of the farmhands were still out working, even without Clara and Siggi. Life on the farm never stopped, no matter what else was happening, especially as the season came to a close. She silently sat next to Runa, letting out a sigh and leaning her elbows on her knees. 

“You know, I get it.” Runa turned towards her, her slender arms crossed over her own knees. “I understand how… scared you feel.” 

Cee shook her head.  “I…” I doubt it. Cee felt her forehead furrow in confusion at her own thoughts. Runa had been nothing but honest and forthcoming with her, welcoming and warm, giving her no reason at all to doubt her. It was the same sabotage her instincts had tried to pull regarding Clara and Ezra, and she realized it was because she had been taught to trust no one. I didn’t even trust Damon. But the realization came with a second layer- she wanted to trust people. Licking her lips to sweep a stray tear from them, she swallowed and sniffed. “How?” Wiping at her eyes without taking them off of the fields, she felt her right knee start to bounce. “I mean… how can you understand?” 

Runa sighed, her eyes raking over Cee’s face. “You know Sig and I are getting married soon, right?” Still unsure of where this was going, Cee nodded. “Well, the man who is going to walk me to the altar in a few weeks’ time? He’s not my,” she rolled her eyes and gestured flippantly with one hand. “I was adopted. My real parents?” She scoffed. “That word… it only means what you let it, Cee.” Runa reached over to brush her fingers through the ends of Cee’s ponytail. Her light touch was soft and comforting and it made Cee feel more guilty about her initial reaction of distrust. “The people who adopted me, here on Kamrea… they don’t look like me. They weren’t there when I was born. But they’re my family, as much as Ezra and Clara are yours now.” Cee gasped, her eyes widening. They…  “And I know how terrified I would be if I thought I was going to lose them. But you know what?” she let the hand that had been playing in the wispy strands of the girl’s hair fall to her shoulder. “You have to believe he’s going to be okay. He needs that from you. He’s gonna need you to help him fight, because he’s a fighter, Cee. He’s gonna fight to stay here with you and with Clara. So you need to fight, too, yeah?” 

Fight. She needed to fight her conditioning. Her fears. The doubts, the battles that they were all trying to wade through. She had to push back against the tendency to expect the worst, because for the first time in her life she was surrounded by people who deserved the best, who wanted that for her. 

Cee furrowed her brow, nodding in spite of the tears that she failed to stifle. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” Runa smiled, bringing her thumb up to wipe under Cee’s eyes. “I know this is all new for you. But you’ll see. On Kamrea, we fight for every second. And we celebrate everything.” She let out a small laugh. 

Kevva waits, Kamreans don’t. 

Human life, compared to the life of a star, a moon, the galaxy, was painfully brief even when nothing intervened to cut it even shorter. The fact that the people who called the fertile planet home sought out every chance to celebrate milestones was not only understandable but beautiful to Cee. They want to add more pages in their stories while they can. Have more things to remember. Just as she realized she wanted to trust people, she found herself craving moments that would turn to cherished memories. But… She had limited experience with celebrations of any kind, but what she did know was that they required work to plan. How is Clara going to- “Runa?” 

“Hmm?” 

Cee caught her bottom lip between her teeth out of habit before letting it go. “How can there still be a Harvest Dinner?” She shook her head. “Was Sig just saying that to-“

“Siggi only says what he means, Cee.” She used a serious tone but not an angry one. But, how? “Clara told me, as right after you and Ezra got here, that she was going to have to call off the dinner this year.” That makes sense. How is she going to- “And I told her that was absolutely not going to happen.” What? “I told her that this year, we have more of a reason to celebrate than ever.” She must have been able to read the confusion on Cee’s face, because she went on. “Clara has always done so, so much for everyone around her. And she’s never once asked for anything in return.” Cee knew that to be true, firsthand. Runa nodded. “There are so many people who would love to be able to help her now, Cee. So there will be a Harvest Dinner, and Clara won’t have to do a single thing. It’s all being taken care of.” 

And it had been. 

Now, the Harvest Dinner only hours away, Cee couldn’t keep the grin from her cheeks. She had been busy, changing handles, helping Ezra as she could, and getting things ready for the celebration so that when Runa and the rest came with their dishes and trays, all they would have to do was set them out. She found the folding tables in the barn and dragged them out to the yard, pushing them together to make one long rectangular one. Setting out chairs was next, followed by the little place cards that Runa had written out for her. Cee. Ezra. Clara. She grouped the three of them together, adding the rest in front of the remaining seats. Aldo, Kinney, Marta, Molly, Siggi, Runa. So many people. She found the names of Runa’s brothers, Arlin and Jay, and sucked in a breath as she read the latter of the two- she’d been busy getting to know the two boys, both around her age, as they had been coming to help finish the harvest while Clara was taking care of Ezra. 

But Jay had made her smile. He made her cheeks flush with warmth whenever he looked at her, made her stomach fill with butterfly wings the few times he had said her name. When she felt his dark, almost coal black eyes glance her way, she felt a sudden need to inspect her shoes. I… I like him. She smiled to herself, cheeks likely a shade that would match the fluffy bales of Thulian in the silo, and switched the cards around on the table. 

Clara. Ezra. Cee… Jay. Arlin. Runa. Siggi.  

Before she could talk herself out of switching it back, she turned away from the table and headed inside to shower and get changed. The guests would be arriving soon, and she wanted to look her best for her first Harvest Dinner. Though she was clearly smitten with Runa’s brother, the excitement she felt as she took the stairs two at a time had more to do with the fact that finally, after all of the obstacles there was finally something good and fun and happy for them all to enjoy. Together. 

It was her first Harvest Dinner, and before it even started she had just one thought. First one… with my family. 

—  —  —  —  —  —  

It felt like a dream. 

Clara blinked back tears but her elation kept them coming. Her vision was slightly blurred and watery by the time she sat down at the table, faces and smiles all swimming in the warm rosy gold light of Harvest End, the shorn fields of Thulian acting as a backdrop for her happiness. Music played through speakers that Siggi and Cee had set up, laughter and conversation mixing with the melody, punctuated by the clatter of silverware on plates and serving spoons against glass bowls. The smell of fresh baked Crater-Apple turnovers from Molly’s mingled with the honey loaf Runa had baked and the candy-sweet smell of the pollen, just barely able to hide the hint of petrichor, the rain promising to hold off until the Harvest had been properly celebrated. In so many ways, it was like all of the previous Harvest Nights she could remember having at the farm; family and friends, food, warm weather and fuzzy, dizzy feelings of relief and pride and happiness. 

Aside from the obvious reasons, the night had started on a high note when Siggi had accepted her proposal of taking over the farm when she was ready to step down. It was still eight to ten years in the future, but simply knowing that he was on board, that her farm, her family’s legacy was going to be in good, caring, capable hands had removed a weight from her shoulders and her heart. The lightness left behind was only amplified by the surprise and excitement written not only over Siggi’s face but Runa’s as well, the young couple practically floating with all of the love and possibility that existed between them. It added even more to the night of celebration, but despite the fact that she was glad he had accepted, the offer had been part of Clara’s plan even before Kevva had granted her the things she only dared to dream about. 

The night felt like a dream not because of the Harvest Dinner or because the future of the farm was secure, but because when she turned to her right, Ezra was there.

For the thousandth time since the man had come back to her, she felt her heart skip and leap. For the millionth time since hearing the message from Cee, she thanked Kevva and Fate and every blade of grass and grain of sand and clump of soil that he had to tread for leading him home. For a countless, innumerable time, she felt a new space open wider in her chest for the young girl who found him at his worst and reminded him of who he was at his best. 

My Ezra. 

It felt like a dream, because for the first time in five years, Clara had a family that was unquestionably hers. 

He turned then, a grin stuck on his face as his eyes found hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and kissing him, kissing the lips she’d missed as they twitched into an even wider grin beneath her own. I missed you so much, Ezra. Reaching under the table to where it rested in his lap, she took his hand and squeezed. Inside of the short seconds of their kiss, the tiny slice of time that her fingers threaded through his, images of that morning flashed behind her closed eyelids, and she gasped against his mouth as she heard the thick need in his voice as his words played back in her memory.  

“It’s later, Huckleberry.”

He was still a ways out from engaging in anything truly strenuous, his breathing and muscle strength still not at full capacity even if he had finally beaten the lethal infection. But that hadn’t stopped him from doing all that he was able to do to show her that the fire between them had never gone out.

“Even with two hands,” he whispered into her ear as she leaned gingerly back into him, back to his chest where he had pulled her into his lap, “I was never able to hold as much of you as I wanted .” He trailed his tongue up one side of her throat as he let his palm travel slowly down her naked body, a thin moan practically disintegrating as it left her lips at the sensation. You can have as much of me as you want, Ezra, as much of me as-  “Never able to feel, to touch as much of you as I need to at once.” He pressed his hand low over her abdomen, thick fingers splayed wide, the tips of them reaching down between her legs to brush the warm flesh there, and her thoughts splintered into shards at the pressure. “Now, it is an even more impossible goal. Do you know how I’m going to account for that, Clara?”

Her eyes rolled closed at the feel of her name rumbling through his lungs against her back, at the slow movement of his fingers as they traveled further down to where she wanted him most. Her hips rolled into his hand of their own volition and she was immensely glad that her body remembered how to take control because her mind was already a mess. Fuck, Ezra, I- She swore that she could feel each etched ridge of his fingerprints as they passed over her body, each looping pattern. She reached behind herself to grasp a handful of his hair and was rewarded with a husky groan and a light nip of his teeth around her earlobe, and when she spoke her voice sounded foriegn and faint. “Tell me how, Ezra.” 

His hand slid further down until he could tease her with two fingers, languidly circling the slick skin surrounding her core, and when he answered, his words dripped like honey into her ear. “By taking my time with you.” 

There was an eruption of light and heat that blazed through her entire being as he pushed one and then both of the fingers he had teased her with inside of her, and she had to turn her face to bury her moans into his neck so that they couldn’t be heard all the way on the surface of the toxic moon that had torn them apart for so long. She wanted to respond, to tell him that he could take as much time as he wanted, but his touch after so many nights and days without it had completely erased her ability to communicate in anything but gasps and sighs, kisses and whimpers. 

That had possibly been for the best though, as she wasn’t sure what hearing her assurances would do to him in his current state. Already Clara could feel the length of him, hard and stiff where it pressed against her, and she knew that neither of them would last long enough to fully express what they wanted to. “Take-” she gasped as his digits curled and pushed deeper into her. “Take your time, Ezra… so much time now.” 

After he had brought her through multiple waves of ecstasy, Clara found the strength to peel herself away from him, to spin and settle herself between his thighs, her heavy lidded eyes drunk on the taste of him before she even closed her mouth around him. She had been right- he hadn’t lasted long, but she had made sure that he savored every second that he spent trapped between her lips, her tongue trailing over the tip of him to collect every slick drop. Between the heat of his body, the feel and flavor of him, the strained quality of his voice and the shake in his fingers as he dragged them through her hair and over her spine, she was halfway gone again herself. Gonna take my time, too, Ezra. 

There was all of that and so much more to look forward to now and even as she sat at the table next to him, next to Cee and surrounded by all of the people who had come into her life, there in the place that was most important to her, it still felt like a dream.

But it isn’t. 

They had all lost things, had all suffered and had all known pain. They had all battled through darkness and unspeakable nightmares, had endured tests and trials that were enough to push some people past their breaking point, beyond the point where return is even possible. There were still more things, other obstacles that they had to overcome, and even without those, Clara had thought, more than once, that she herself had become a lost cause, another ghost to haunt the living like a cautionary tale about falling too far into love. 

As the coarse hair over Ezra’s upper lip bushed her skin, the man dragging his kiss across her lips and finally pulling back to let her bask in the warmth of his smile, she closed her eyes and leaned the side of her nose along his. 

I’m not dreaming, she finally determined. I’m living. We are living.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my series/characters, please feel free to let me know! :) 

*** This is the FINAL chapter for this story. The Epilogue, titled Petrichor, will follow the events of this series- But if there are any questions that you have regarding these characters, any scenes that you would like to see or things that you are interested in getting from a different POV, please consider my ask box OPEN! ***

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

Point of No Return - Part Twelve

A/N: EVERYONE PRETEND IT ISN’T AFTER MIDNIGHT AND THAT I AM NOT INCAPABLE OF POSTING THINGS AT A NORMAL HOUR OR ON TIME... haha...ha. Anyway... this one took a lot out of me and I there is only one more chapter left and i am DRAINED... you’ll understand by the end. 

Warning: discussion of illness, injury

Summary: Ezra, Cee and Clara reflect on things that have changed and try to pinpoint the exact moment that those changes occurred. Some are easier to see than others but what matters most is how to move forwards once the switch happens...for as long as possible. 

Word Count: 5.7k

All change occurs in a single instant. 

No matter how long the buildup, no matter how tightly coiled the tension becomes or how ragged and thin things wear, there is always a solitary moment that can be pinpointed as the absolute time of the shift; the second that something becomes something else. Time is only running out while sand still slips through the pinched passageway of an hourglass. It isn’t over until the final grain leaves the upper chamber of the instrument and lands on top of the heap in the lower one. 

A thread pulls until it snaps. Friction rubs until a spark ignites, a bullet flies until it sinks into its target, a body of water will chill and chill until it crystalizes. 

Sometimes those moments are predictable, a series of signals and alerts telegraphing the impending transition with enough time to react before it happens. Sometimes they strike with the frenetic speed of an electric pulse like lightning. No warning, no time to find shelter- a shock in every sense of the word. 

Then there was change that crept in immeasurable, uneven increments. Not all at once, not reliably expected, but quiet and crouching, like a predator stalking its prey before the pounce. 

Like falling in love. Like finding a home. Like a fever climbing one degree at a time. 

—  —  —  —  —  —  

For three days, things were close to perfect.

Clara and Cee had come back inside from their tour of the farm, the sound of their combined laughter filling the kitchen and floating up the stairs to warm Ezra’s soul. It soothed him in a way he hadn’t thought possible since the last time he left Kamrea, to have the people that mattered most to him under the same roof, to know that they were safe, happy even. The very idea that he was getting another chance at this- a life, a family, all the things he thought he’d lost for good- was enough to mute the angry aches that had started clamouring for his attention when he woke up that morning, enough to push the pain and fatigue to the back of his consciousness.

For those three days, Ezra had everything.

After inadvertently falling asleep on the porch, waking up crunched and crumpled but together, he and Clara had ended their continued separation, choosing to sleep side by side instead. Though his bandages and injuries still prevented him from holding her as close and as tight as he craved her, Ezra wouldn’t complain. It meant pressing his lips to hers before hearing the tired, content little hum she’d make as she settled into the pillows. It meant the dip of the mattress as she rolled onto her side, the sight of her face, eyelids weighted with sleep as she tried to keep them open, the grasp of her fingers as they reached across the sheet to twine with his. It meant words mumbled into the darkness and thumbs swept over knuckles until all movement ceased and their breathing evened out as they slept.

It meant three mornings of waking up steeped in her, in them, in the moments that had come to him in his most desperate and dire times on the Green when the thought of having them again seemed like a far-fetched fantasy. Her lips brushing over his cheek to whisper his name like a rope thrown down to pull him from sleep, the full length mirror catching the pre dawn light coming in through the window to pour over her skin, the soft ends of her hair like a feather tickling his shoulder as she leaned away. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” she’d say, combing her fingers through the shock of platinum in his dark, overgrown curls, a warm smile in her eyes as they lingered places on his face- the fan of creases at the outer corners of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, half-hidden by the patchy beard and mustache he was growing, the faint curved scar on his cheek where she’d first put him back together- before reluctantly leaving him to head down to the fields and her work. 

Ezra would watch her go, a sluggish but enamored smile tugging his mouth to one side. The residual comfort of several hours spent with his heart’s match beating right there next to him was enough to shove any body aches back into his bones, enough to erase the heaviness in his lungs and the sting between his ribs, and he would give back in to sleep until the Harvest Star’s vibrant color and light poked at his eyelids to pull him awake once more. 

For those three days, years melted like snow in summer. 

In that secondary slumber he would slip into the past, reliving the memories that her presence revived, basking in the fullness of them that he wasn’t afforded so far from the farm. The big things were all always there, etched into the walls of his mind- wrapping her in his arms as he returned from a stand away, playfully tackling her into the grass between the Thulian rows, planting a kiss to her cheek as she carried baskets and trays out for the harvest feast. They were all obvious things, bookmarked and dogeared as parts of their life he’d always remember, even as they happened in real time. It was the smaller things that came to him in those morning hours, the moments of change that he didn’t realize at the time of their occurrence, the kind that could only be appreciated with a backwards glance- the moment Clara became more to him than he ever imagined a person might. 

It was the last night of the second week of the Thulian harvest, and Ezra couldn’t sleep. The night air drifting into the open window of the dormitory rooms above the barn was warm but not unpleasantly so, and tinged with the sweet scent of the pink pollen. Aldo, Kinny and the others had all found rest as quickly as their heads had found their pillows, the thin walls that separated the rooms doing little to drown out their snores. The snared, saw-tooth sound of their breathing joined the songs of crickets and the whistle of the breeze through the harvested stalks in the field. It wasn’t the heat of the harvest season or the nighttime noises that kept him from drifting off, though. 

Turning onto his back, Ezra blinked at the ceiling. He bent his right arm, that hand diving under his pillow, and rested his left across his stomach. Right knee pointed up towards the wooden beams that held the roof over his head and swaying slowly from side to side, he tapped his pointer finger atop his abdomen and let out a breath. The sigh turned into a smile that prompted a small laugh which he couldn’t quite reason out, and though he knew that if he didn’t get some sleep he would be sorry for it the next day, he couldn’t be bothered to care much. 

It had been ages since he felt as at peace as he had since landing on Kamrea. At first he attributed it to the excitement of the promotion with BGCM Co. that had dictated his stay on the agricultural planet in the first place, a simple case of enjoying his own accomplishments and acknowledging what he’d earned. But the more time he spent on the farm the less he found himself thinking about the Green. Instead of the itch that usually preceded his trips to the treasure filled forest moon, instead of that urge to unearth the amber bulbs of aurelac, instead of trying to guess how many points his next pull would bring him, Ezra found himself growing more and more fond of the place he thought would merely be a way station on his journey to riches. 

The way that Clara’s eyes lit up over the top of the bandana covering her mouth and nose as she smiled at him in the field that day didn’t hurt, either.  

I could establish a life here, easily.  He lifted his hips to resettle in a more comfortable position, turning slightly so that he could look out the window and bringing his left hand to join his right under his head. Find a place in town, maybe rent a room somewhere between cycles or- 

A loud bang from outside the barn broke through his musings and sent him bolting upright, setting him on high alert. What was- Feet straight to the floor, Ezra was out of bed and heading towards the small circular window in nothing flat. On the Green, sudden noises generally meant danger was close, and despite how comfortable he found himself here, there was nothing that would undo the conditioning that had been drilled into him during every training session, every prospecting mission and every dig team he had been a part of- gunshots anywhere were tricky business, but gunshots on the Green almost certainly meant death. 

Not on the Green now though, I’m… He blinked to remind himself of his surroundings, holding his breath to listen for any other clues, any indications of danger. When none came, the rest of the farmhands still sleeping heavily, he finally relaxed, surveying the darkened fields that surrounded the barn, and the house just beyond them. There were a number of tall crater-oaks standing like sentinels around both structures, their limbs strong but still swaying with the summer breeze. Must’ve been a tree branch in the wind or- 

Before he finished that thought, a single bulb clicked to life on the front porch of the house, his eyes snapping there as Clara came into view. The sound he’d heard made sense then as she stepped away from the screen door. The adrenaline flipped into amusement as he recalled the way the kitchen door had swung and banged shut when she came outside to meet him the day he’d been hired. Huh. 

“You can’t sleep either, Huckleberry?” He spoke quietly into the darkness, watching as she descended the small staircase, striding towards the fields. 

Curiosity peaked beyond good sense, Ezra made a decision. He reached for the dark olive tee he’d thrown off before climbing into bed in just the pair of grey shorts he wore, and pulled it back on. No need for us both to be awake at this hour and be… alone. Stuffing his feet into his boots, he didn’t bother with the laces, only tucking them loosely under the leather tongue so he wouldn’t trip over them climbing down from the loft. 

He’d be lying to himself, a practice that Ezra did not adhere to, if he said that he wasn’t attracted to Clara. She was a beautiful woman, sharp eyes and a smile that could rival the dawn, there was no questioning that. But Ezra had met dozens of beautiful women in his travels, and none of them had pulled him from his room this late at night simply for a chance at conversation. He had only gotten to know her as well as two weeks worth of working the harvest had allowed, but now, as the clock ticked towards his impending departure, Ezra was determined not to settle only for what he’d been given. 

By the time he had pushed the door wide enough to step out into the night, Clara had crossed through the fields, coming into the clearing in front of the barn, and his unexpected presence caused her to jump slightly, sucking in a gasp. “Oh! It- Ezra?” 

Holding his palms out towards her as he took another step, he nodded. “Apologies, Clara, it was not my intention to frighten you.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, the silver light of the night sky shining on her hair and highlighting the creases in her brow. “I’m… you didn’t I-” she sighed. “What are you doing out here?” 

Licking his lips to wet them and tasting the sweet Thulian that hung in the air, he let out a small chuckle. “I could venture to ask you the same thing.” She scoffed, but he could see the smile she was failing to hide, her eyes softening with each blink of her lashes. Same thing you’re doing, I imagine. “I heard the door,” he explained, gesturing with one hand towards the house. “Came out to see what-” 

“You heard that all the way from here?” She had glanced over her shoulder, and when she spun back there was something in the way that she was looking at him that he couldn’t quite place. 

“I did,” he nodded, walking a few paces closer to where she stood. “You learn to develop a keen ear when you’re forced to experience life through the globe of a helmet,” he told her, which was the truth. Though the helmets that he and his team wore while working on the Green were all fitted with radio systems, ensuring that they could communicate as long as they clicked on to the right channel, the rest of the time it was sealed silence inside the enclosed dome around his head. “If you don’t, you tend to miss things.” And I don’t like missing things. 

“Oh yeah?” Tilting her head, Clara let her arms drop back to her sides and shrunk the distance between the two of them by three more steps. Now that she was closer, he could see that the top of her shoulder, exposed in the tank top that she wore, was covered in freckles to match the ones sprinkled over her cheeks. “Like what? What kinds of things?” 

Like the gurgling of the rhizomatic sacks hidden underground, the trickling of a stream that could be the only usable water around for cycles, the sound of snapping twigs to signal someone’s approach.

“Screen doors, for one,” he joked, earning a laugh from her as she looked down at her feet, one hand coming up to tuck a loose piece of hair back. Ezra’s eyes followed the movement of her fingers, the way that they traced the curve of her ear, his own fingertips twitching as he did, and the same feeling that seemed to be keeping him from sleep up in his bed coursed through him again, only stronger this time. This is right, being here is- 

“Well, since you’re awake,” she looked back up and he snapped his eyes to hers. “Do you want to take a walk with me, Ezra?” Once the question was out, she’d pressed her lips together 

Absolutely. “I would like nothing more,” he answered with a grin, stooping down to tie his laces properly. 

What happened next fell into the category that Ezra could easily recall; it had also been the night that they shared their first kiss, the two of them strolling through the rows of pink grass as Ezra described a typical day on the Green. When they reached the center of the field, Clara pointed up at the sky to indicate a group of stars that made up the constellation Kevva. She told him the corresponding stories and myths she had grown up hearing about the starfaring deity that Kamrean culture was based on, and by the time she finished, bringing her eyes back down to meet his, it was impossible for either of them to stop the meeting of their lips. 

It was the string of moments leading up to that kiss though, that fell into the other grouping of memories, the ones that didn’t feel like change as they happened, their effects felt in ripples nonetheless. It was the sum of the calm he felt, the bang of the door, her invitation to join him and the way that his thick fingers notched perfectly with her thin ones that had all added up to the exact amount of weight needed to tip the scales irreversibly. Without every one of those variables, the change wouldn’t have occurred. 

He would have missed it. 

He didn’t though, and because he hadn’t, those small significant seconds had somehow led him home. Ezra had spent five years with his focus zeroed in on what he had lost, on the things he couldn’t get back. For the three days following the night that Clara had asked him to kiss her though, he reveled in those seconds and the others like them that had stacked up to what he had now. 

--  --  --  --  --  --  --  

It had been three days since Cee moved her things from the den downstairs up into the spare bedroom on the second floor. 

Her room. 

Clara had insisted that it was hers now as she helped the girl fold and put away the two bags worth of hand me downs that Runa brought over. She had even told Cee that once the harvest was over and things settled down on the farm, she would help her paint the walls so that the space felt even more her own. The first night she stayed in her new bedroom, Cee slipped the photo of her mother out from its place against the binding of her book, tucking it instead into the wood frame surrounding the mirror above the small dresser.  

In those three days, though it still seemed more like the plot of one of her stories than reality, Cee felt herself becoming more comfortable with the thought that this was where she was meant to be, that this was her home and that Ezra and Clara were her family. She didn’t view them as parents, and if she had to give a name to the relationship she wasn’t sure that she could. All she knew was that they both had made room for her in their lives when neither of them had to, and that they took up space in her heart as well. 

For three days, Cee felt herself falling into a routine. Easily. 

She found herself looking forward to spending her mornings with Ezra, bringing him a turnover or one of Clara’s freshly baked muffins, she and Abe hopping up into the window seat as he ate. He was never short on conversation topics, engaging her with questions on things ranging from her writing style to her thoughts on the Thulian harvest, even asking her if she’d given any thought to what she might want to study in school. 

“Girl like you, smart as a whip and twice as quick?” He gave a tired chuckle with a small shake of his head. “You’ll be able to do anything you fix your mind on, little bird, of that I have no doubt.”

It was the first time anyone had ever seriously asked her where her interests lay, and while prior to meeting him her inability to answer would have worried her, simply having his confidence in her seemed like a safety net, allowing her to take leaps she might otherwise not attempt. “I think…” she watched her fingertips disappear into the orange cat’s fur as he lounged on her lap and she scratched between his ears. “I think I might want to learn medicine.”

It wasn’t just the sense of accomplishment she felt when she had performed the life-saving field treatment on him that was allowing them to even have this conversation that made her think that a career as a doctor or nurse might be right for her. The memory of the nurse at the MedCenter on Central that had helped put her in touch with Clara while Ezra was still dangerously touch and go had stuck with her, the way that the kind woman had tried to help heal more than the physical ailments that had brought the two of them there making her want to be able to provide that same level of care. 

“Well, as a former patient of yours,” she had rolled her eyes at that but he continued, “I fully support the chasing of that dream.” 

She thought of how he had treated her while they were on the Green, urging her to always consider her next move. Telling him her name, she realized now, had been her move, her play, the moment that she decided to trust him and therefore the moment that started all these rolling realizations, all these big changes thrown into action just by the smallest change. One minute the man referred to her as #3, in the next, he knew her. 

They were different each morning, the things they would discuss, but after a few hours no matter what, he would need to rest. At first she was worried over the seeming increase in his fatigue levels after such a short time awake and upright, especially since the medication he was taking now was nowhere near as sedative as the patches he had worn the first few days out of the MedCenter. But he insisted that he was fine, that it was simply a side effect of climbing up and down the stairs each afternoon, of spending more time out of bed with Cee and Clara in the evenings that was making him feel a little run down. 

For three days, it was easy enough to believe that's all it was.

While Ezra rested, Cee wandered the farm, bringing her notebook out to the swing near the stream or sitting along the path that led to the fields to watch the farmhands work. She had started writing some new scenes to fill in the second book in the Streamer Girl series, adding an original character that she only realized after re-reading what she had written was clearly inspired by Clara and her selflessness. She smiled to herself upon making that connection, knowing that Ezra, when he read it, would see it too. 

As much as she found herself looking forward to spending a few hours each morning with Ezra, Cee enjoyed her time with Clara each afternoon just as much. She would head back to the house when she noticed Clara coming in from the fields, and after the woman cleaned up and changed, Cee would help her in the kitchen. Chopping vegetables or stirring things in pots, learning how to use the stovetop and a few other appliances, Cee and Clara used that time to get to know one another simply by working together and chatting. Favorite colors, funny stories, recurring dreams, advice on how to season certain dishes with traditional Kamrean spices- these served as the method for strengthening the growing bond between the woman and the girl who had fallen into her life, and if Ezra’s confidence in her was a safety net then Clara’s guidance and encouragement were a springboard. 

The part of the day that she looked forward to the most in her new home though, was when she or Clara would help Ezra down from the bedroom, the three of them sharing a meal. It was on the second of those three days when she recognized the shift in how she thought of them: from three people living together to a family, a home, something she wanted to hold onto with both hands, as tightly as she could. 

For those three days, she let herself get comfortable with the idea of comfort.

--  --  --  --  --  --  

What did I miss? 

Four days after caving and finally allowing themselves to fall back into the love that neither of them had ever left behind, Clara found herself repeating only one question. 

What did I miss?  

Had there been small changes that she hadn’t noticed? Signs that didn’t register or things she should have caught that slipped through the seams? Ezra’s initial discharge papers had told her that this was a possibility even after he completed the aggressive round of antibiotic medication, but his recovery had been relatively smooth, his spirits were high, and he had been showing more and more of his old self with each day that passed. Each time he laughed at something Cee had said, each time he looked at Clara with that same fire she saw in his eyes the first time they kissed, each time he smiled or stood without help or made a joking comment about Abe’s laziness the possibility of the infection in his chest returning seemed further and further away. 

So what did I miss? 

For three days she had slept beside him, brushed her lips to his and over his cheek, swept her fingers through his hair, reached for his hand as she felt one or both of them being pulled under into dreams. There had been no change to his breathing, no wheezing or change to the depth of his lung capacity, no cause at all for concern as she drifted off on that third night. No reason to think that she would wake to find his fever back, sweat soaking his forehead, his unruly curls, the pillowcase beneath his head. 

She had opened her eyes that morning only to be chilled to her core at the sight of him looking suddenly more sick than he had directly after coming out of sedation. His eyes were pinched tightly shut, his skin pale and clammy looking, the white scar on his cheek nearly disappearing in the pallor, and for a few heart shattering seconds, his chest appeared to be completely still. Heart pounding almost painfully against her ribs, she was afraid to take a breath herself until she saw him take a shallow one.  

Clara had moved fast then, sitting up and calling his name, imploring him to open his eyes and look at her. She reached for his face and drew her hand back immediately at the heat she felt, fresh panic setting in at the fire that had spread in his veins overnight. She called his name two more times, smoothing her palms over his cheeks, into his wet hair, pressing her lips to his brow as she whispered his name again through the tight fear clogging her throat. 

“Ezra, please,” she begged, “please open your eyes.” Don’t leave me again, Ezra, don’t… I won’t lose you again.  

He had pried them open just enough to prove that he was conscious, rasping out her name, and though it was a sign that he wasn’t too far gone to the fever, the weakness in his tone after three days of hearing him grow stronger was devastating. “Don’t… cry, Huckleberry…” he tried to assure her that he’d be alright, but it only had the opposite effect, and she immediately ran into the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom, flinging open the cabinets and pulling down the bottle of pain and fever reducer that she always kept stocked. She knew that it wasn’t prescription and that it was only a stop gap- that he would need something stronger to combat the infection that had returned or was possibly never rooted out to begin with. 

With shaking hands that knocked several of the other bottles and items over, she unscrewed the cap and tipped two of the oblong red tablets into her palm and gave them to him, urging him to take a sip of water from the glass on the nightstand. He took a small swig, sputtering slightly as he coughed, but he was able to get the medication down. Good. One thing at a- 

“Clara…” he had his eyes closed again as he spoke her name, and she saw a slight wince cross his features as he forced a swallow. Before she could try to stop him from straining himself though, he blinked his deep brown eyes open, the light in them glassy and hazy now.  “Not your fault…”  

Oh, Ezra. 

Even in the darkest times right after losing Seth, before he had stepped away from the life that they had started to build together, Ezra always did his best to carry the load, take blame or guilt from her shoulders no matter what. Even when there was no one to blame but Fate, Ezra would try to make the weight of things as light for her as he could. 

“I know, Ezra,” she leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose, a salty tear falling from her eye to land in his beard. “But I have to call the doctors, I have to… I have to get you help, I have to-” 

“Love you… Huckleberry.” With that, he fell back into the fire of the fever before she could respond. 

Clara let out a breath that was part sob, part broken whimper as she kissed him once more and tore out of the room, heart and feet and brain pounding as she flew down the stairs to the kitchen. 

What did I miss? What did I miss? What did I- 

Forcing her fingers to comply despite the adrenaline making them shake, she punched in the three digit code that would connect her to the MedCenter there on Kamrea. Explaining everything as best as she could, she relayed the state that she found Ezra in that morning, comparing it to how he’d been the previous three days, expressing how terrified she was and asking if there was anything else that she could do. The technician on the comm line put her on a brief hold, the sound of soothing elevator music only grating on her as she waited the long, grueling seconds before the tech was back on the line to tell her that a prescription for heavy-duty antibiotics as well as a strong fever reducer would be sent to the pharmacy in town and that she should follow the instructions from the pharmacist… and that she should hurry to get him the medications because the second wave of infection in his type of injuries typically came back mutate, fortified by the patient’s complacency. 

Was that it? What she missed? Was it complacency? Blinded by the good so that the sinister could thrive in the dark? 

There was no time to contemplate it, and though it was still early, the light in the barn window just flicking on as she dialed the second number, Clara punched in the code that would connect her to Runa. The younger woman picked up, voice thick with sleep, and Clara wasted no time in telling her about Ezra’s current situation. To her credit, Runa didn’t even let Clara ask her for help, offering to pick up Ezra’s prescriptions and drive them over right away since she lived in town, close to the pharmacy. Clara knew that Runa would have offered even if she lived hours away, simply because that was the kind of person that she was, and for a brief moment she paused her thoughts to spare one of thanks to Kevva or Fate or whoever was listening for placing Runa in her life. 

The woman arrived in the driveway just shy of an hour later, Cee and Siggi both waiting for her in the kitchen as Clara stayed with Ezra to keep an eye on him. She handed the medication off, gripping Clara’s shoulder and giving a squeeze and a nod, then slipped back downstairs to help Sig keep Cee from giving into her panic too much. If that was even possible- the girl had gone nearly ghost white when she learned that Ezra was back to battling for his life, and Clara understood. 

One minute they were a family. The next it all seemed to collapse with no indication, no visible or discernable reason for the switch, just another cruel turn of the universe that they would have to adapt to. Three days of bliss, gone, or at least potentially so. 

It wasn’t until much later that evening, when the Harvest Star was already dipping back down beneath the horizon, when Runa had gone home and Sig had gone back to his quarters in the barn and Cee had fallen asleep against Clara’s shoulder in the window seat that the result of the emergency medicine made itself known. Ezra opened his eyes and when he did, they were markedly less cloudy, cutting through the dim light in the room to find Clara’s, puffy and swollen with tears. She sucked in a breath and gently eased Cee away from her body without waking her, adjusting the sleeping teen so that she leaned into the soft cushions before quietly shuffling over to the bed and climbing in beside him. 

“You scared me so much, Ezra,” she spoke in a waterlogged tone, tears streaming from her eyes again as she reached for his hand. “Are you… how do you-” 

“Clara,” he cleared his throat then but kept his eyes open and on her. “I need you to... understand one thing, alright?” She felt his thumb slide weakly over her knuckles and she nodded, another small whimper slipping out. “I have already come back from the brink once, my Huckleberry.” He had to pause to take a breath, again coughing to clear his throat before continuing. “A feat that I never… dreamed that I would have to…” He screwed his eyelids tight for a second then as a shock of pain flashed across his face, but he never let go of her hand and she knew better than to interrupt him. “Clara, I have come back to you, from the edge of existence and it...it nearly killed me.” 

“I know,” she felt her heart twist and fold in on itself as she thought again about how close he’d come to not being here. “I know, Ezra, and I-” 

“I won’t let it, Clara.” Mustering all of his strength to keep his eyes clear as he spoke, he gave a slight tug on her hand to pull her close enough to lay his lips, still warm from the declining fever, to her temple. “I won’t let anything keep me from fighting my way back to you. Never again.” 

Though she may have missed the exact point in time when his temperature had peaked, when the wound between his ribs grew warm and red, when the shine in his eyes started to dim, she recognized the moment that they were in for what it was- it was Ezra staking a claim on what was his, theirs. He was promising her that there was no amount of hell too harsh for him to walk through so long as the road brought him back to her. 

In that moment, their love became stronger than anything that could tear it apart, even if his full recovery was in question once more.

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

Point of No Return - Part Nine

A/N: This part is very emotional. I am very emotional about this part. Oh, holy hotdogs you guys. I’m getting close to wrapping this one up and all I can say about this part is that while there’s still a little more struggle ahead, this part is just a big sigh- of sadness, sure but also...relief. (sorry i’m posting this so late, i have no excuse for being the way that i am)

Warning: language, discussion of death, tension of all sorts

Summary: Things can only be held in for so long before they come to the surface, and once they do there’s only one way to go- forward. 

Word Count: 5.5k 

Cee was a fast learner, Ezra would grant her that. 

Kevva waits, girl. He heard his own words in his memory as this time instead of a gun, she had him pinned down with a question. In the short time they spent together on the Green Moon he had noticed her tendency to second guess herself. Hesitation of any kind could be deadly in the world of Aurelac prospecting, he knew that better than anyone. If all he ever imparted to her was that she was capable of making decisions, that all she had to do was act once she had made them, that she should be confident in her choices, then he would feel as though her time with him had been worth something. 

What she had just asked him, with no beating around the bush, no tremble in her tone, was proof that she was ready to test what he had taught her, that it was time to leap from the nest and try out her wings. “Who is Seth?” 

Atta girl, little bird, shoot straight for the heart of it.

The small flicker of pride he felt gave way to a deep ache in the most hollow part of his chest at the mention of Clara’s brother. He knew that he wasn’t done discussing Seth just because he and Clara had talked the night before. He’d never be done, he realized. Still, the last time Ezra had spoken about the young man with anyone who didn’t know him had been years ago, and trying to explain who he was to someone as important as Cee had become to him in order for her to understand what his loss meant was something he had never needed to do before. All the people who mattered most to him had known Seth- Clara, Siggi and Runa, even Jace, his old team leader from his time with BGCM Co. They had all been there when Seth died, but more importantly they had all been there when he lived. 

When several seconds had gone by without words to fill them, Cee drew her eyebrows together and took a breath. Biting her bottom lip as she let it back out, it was clear that she was starting to regret asking the question. He knew it was because she thought she had overstepped, slipping back into her uncertainty, and he cursed himself silently for it. “I...if you don’t want to-” 

Ezra raised his hand with his palm facing the girl the same way he had in the pod. “Cee, no, don’t…” Don’t backpedal now, birds don’t fly in reverse. He sighed, eyes closing only long enough for him to swallow the heaviness lodged in his throat. Opening them again, he focused on her face and gave her a small shake of his head. “I told you to ask, and you did.” Her mouth twitched in a downwards arch, but he shook his head again before it could become a full blown frown. “Did…” shit. Suddenly the pain he’d been in since Cee shot him in the meat of his bicep seemed mild compared to the agonizing way that talking about Seth grated on his heart and his conscience. Put it away, Ezra. This is for her, not you. He blinked to clear his thoughts. “You said you met Runa? She the one who… who mentioned him?” He was fairly certain that if the girl had heard about Seth from Clara, she wouldn’t have to ask him who he was. 

She nodded, nose wrinkling as she watched her fingers where they scratched Abe between his ears. “She said that you…” She sighed, the cat worming himself closer to her thigh. “She said that you and Clara lost Seth and that…” she kept her hand on the cat’s head but looked up at him, sadness in her eyes. 

“He was Clara’s brother, birdie.” He saw that sadness deepen as she sucked in a shocked breath, mouth dropping open, giving her head half a shake. “And it was…” he sighed. “I was with him when he… he died. He was killed, Cee. Up on the Green, he was-” 

--  --  --  --  --  --  --  --  

Oh, shit. 

“Ezra.” Cee stood up, the cat announcing his disapproval, but she didn’t hear it nor did she feel it when the animal gave her hand a nip as she pulled it away. She wasn’t sure how it would go when she asked the question. She knew it wouldn’t be easy based on what Runa had said, based on the fact that something had kept Clara and Ezra apart for longer than just the last cycle up on the Green. But I didn’t… “Ezra, I’m so sorry, I…” 

Suddenly, the words he’d uttered in his fevered delusion, the ones that had led her to locating Clara in the first place, the ones that still made her shudder when she remembered them- Bury me by the fields- suddenly they made even more sense, and she didn’t need to ask to know that Seth had been laid to rest there. Oh… Ezra...Clara… 

She had moved closer to the bed, unsure of why, suddenly embarrassed that she’d asked something so painful and personal of someone who was already going through so much. Shit, what do I- 

“S’alright, Cee.” He nodded, trying to assure her that she hadn’t crossed a line. But why? Why is it alright? Why do you even- “There used to be a… a photo of the three of us. Of Clara and I and,” she watched the small gathering of pinched lines near the corners of his eyes as he spoke, breaking up her tangled questions. “And Seth, on the shelf out there in the hall.” Wait, used to be? He pointed his chin in the direction of the doorway. 

Cee shook her head in confusion. “No it’s… it's still there, I saw it when we first came here, and I... “ she shrugged. 

“She kept a picture of me and… Oh, Huckleberry…” He muttered the words under his breath, staring down at his lap. “Coulda replaced it with just her and…” 

“She loves you, Ezra. You know that, right?” Oh, shit, why am I… 

She had no idea why she was speaking, had no right to be saying anything at all on the subject of Ezra and Clara’s relationship or whether it was beyond repair. But it was true. She knew that Clara loved the man, because the things that she’d seen her do for him, the things that she had done for her herself, simply because she had been connected to him, they were things she’d never known anyone to do before, and that was how she knew that it was love. Love, and not obligation or guilt. Love, because she saw how there was hurt etched deep in Clara’s face, yet she selflessly did everything she could to ease Ezra’s pain, to soothe Cee’s despite being a stranger. It had to be love, because it was completely new and yet she understood what it was just by watching Clara. 

“Yes,” he fixed his eyes fiercely on her, but he wasn’t angry, it was more that he wanted her to know that he was serious. “Yes,” he said again, “I know that she does. And I know that I do not deserve it, but that-” 

“Why do you do that?” He wasn’t angry, but she realized then that she was. Not at him, not really, but at the situation that he was in, that they were all in now. 

He blinked twice, and in other circumstances she could picture an amused quirk to his lips or a mischievous gleam in his otherwise dark brown eyes, and she knew that he’d rather be amused than whatever he was now. “Do what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed, a tell that he was just buying time by asking the question. 

“Why do you act like you don’t deserve people who… who care about you? Who need you?” He asked, she reminded herself. She felt her heart pounding in her throat, each beat thrumming, too late, too late, too late to take it back.  

Ezra tilted his head then, regarding her carefully, thumb tapping on the sheet where it lay across his lap. “This isn’t entirely about Clara, or Seth, is it, little bird?” Cee sniffed. Shit, I… no, it’s not. She shrugged and looked down, bottom lip folding between her teeth. “Mmm-hmm,” he hummed and she looked back up. “I didn’t think so.” She sighed and shuffled another step closer until she could lean against the foot of the bed. “So you wanna tell me what it’s really about then, or are you going to make me grasp at straws left-handed?” 

I don’t want to. She sighed, furrowing her forehead and wishing that she was more stubborn that the man across from her, stubborn enough not to answer him. “I just-” she blurted, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Ezra, what’s going to happen? When you get better, where am I going to… what if Clara decides that-” What if she decides she doesn’t want me around? What if I remind her too much of Seth? What if-

“Hey, you listen to me now,” he spoke clearly, snapping her from her spiral. She looked up at him from under her creased brow, and though she was trying hard to hide it, she knew that he could see that she was scared. “We come as a pair, you and me. Now I don’t know yet if Clara is inclined to… extend the invitation given our history, and the things that we still have to…” he released a breath in a huff and she could tell that he was still in a large deal of pain from his injuries, that he would be for a long time. “But you can be sure of one thing, Cee,” he only used her name when he wanted her to listen, so she did. “And that is that I would not turn my back on you under any circumstance.” 

She felt her nostrils flare as she swallowed, mouth twitching downwards. Why though? Letting out a breath, she trained her glare on his hand where it had stretched out on his lap. “You tried to get rid of me once…told me to-” she paused, swallowing and giving a minuscule shake of her head, the fine blonde ends of her ponytail swinging and tickling the back of her neck. He didn’t choose that, why are you… She was rebelling against the idea that he actually cared for her like she did for him. I don’t even understand it, I just… trust him. She couldn’t stop herself though, letting her anger and confusion and fear out for the first real time.  “You we’re just going to-“ Her eyes came back up to his then, and for the first time since they’d left the damn Green she let him see a spark of fire in her eyes. “I…I needed you. And you were just going to give up. Give up on Clara, and on me, and-” 

“The delusions of a man convinced that he had already stepped into his grave, Cee.” He nodded once, sincerity darkening his eyes as he focused them on her, cutting her emotional tirade short. “Nothing more than fever speak, I swear it.” 

She searched his face for any sign of insincerity, and then realized she wouldn’t recognize it in him because he had never shown it to her. “Do you…” She didn’t need to ask, he’d just told her. But she realized then that she wanted to hear it. “Do you mean that, Ezra? Do you- you’d really… you’d give this up if...you want to-”

“I mean it, kid,” he gave her a smirk that she knew was in spite of everything else that he was feeling. “You and me are a team, got it? A package deal, alright? Now Clara already told me that you are more than welcome here no matter how things shake out between us-” Yes, but I- He didn’t let her protest, continuing. “I can’t promise you much, Cee, but I can promise you that if I have to leave here, and you want to leave with me, I can promise you that you’d be welcome with me, too. Understand?”

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I understand.” 

“Good.” He found a way then to somehow tuck the seriousness of the morning away, giving her a grin that didn’t feel forced. “Now,” he stretched his neck and back. “Think I’m gonna venture into the washroom and clean myself up best I can.” He nodded to the bathroom door then looked back at her. “Then what do you say you help me down to the porch so we can talk about your exquisite writing, hmm?” 

He read it? She knew she was crying but she also felt the smile pulling at her cheeks. “Yeah,” she couldn’t help the excitement in her voice, changing its tone completely. “Yeah, sounds good.” 

--  --  --  --  --  --  --   

By the time that Clara had finished up her half day in the fields, she was exhausted and sweaty and covered in pollen, and even though she hated leaving the rest of the farmhands out there for the remainder of the day, she knew that she would be of little to no help to them as tired as she was. Good thing I have leftovers from last night, I don’t think I have it in me to cook tonight. She let a tired laugh fall from her lips. It’s not even night, yet. The Harvest Star still had at least six hours to burn before nightfall. And then I… we have to… Ezra and I there’s more to… 

Had she only just laughed? Had she just passed the day with her workers and her Thulian fields, swinging her sickle and stacking bales? How? Had she smiled at Runa and joked with Sig that day? How, when there was so much uncertainty still? 

She had forgiven Ezra, but what if he hadn’t forgiven her? For not coming after him? She’d gone as far as looking for passage to the Green to physically go bring him home, but Siggi had talked her out of it, all but slapping her to make her see reason. Ezra would skin me alive if he ever found out I stood by and let you go up there, Clara, and you know it. He’d be pissed at you and he’d kill me- he’d told her, none of it untrue. But what if he didn’t forgive her for sending him away? What if he couldn’t forgive himself, what if-

The endless stream of questions was cut short as she got closer to the house and spotted two figures on the porch bench- Cee and Ezra, sitting on either end of the long seat, each with an open book on their laps. Oh, Kevva. She stopped short, her heart thumping as she heard a snippet of their conversation. They hadn’t seen her yet, and she wasn’t trying to listen, she was simply frozen by what she’d walked up on and what she’d heard and how it warmed the broken pieces of her heart. 

“Are you certain you have never been to the Ephrate?” Ezra’s question was tinged with mock incredulity, and Clara could picture his eyes narrowing. She heard the flap of pages as he closed the notebook around his pointer finger to hold his place between the handwritten pages of Cee’s version of The Streamer Girl. “Now, I’m not calling you a liar, birdie, and I am more than inclined to believe you when it comes to anything else. But,” Clara stepped closer, coming around the corner of the porch as he gestured with the book. “Your description of the view from the Conservatory is making me question whether or not you have been truthful with me on this particular matter.” 

Ezra’s eyes flicked quickly over to where Clara was and she knew that he knew she was there. Anything else he says, he wants me to hear. She took the first step, hand falling heavily to the railing. 

Cee scoffed and rolled her eyes dismissively from over the top of her book on the opposite end of the bench. “You’re just saying that.” Clara saw the apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushed a rosy red as she took in the compliment, though. His words suddenly seeming to register on another level, she sucked in a breath and widened her eyes. “Wait,” lowering the novel, she closed it around her finger in the same way that Ezra had. “Does that mean… have you been to the Ephrate? To the Bowsum Conservatory?” 

“I have,” he nodded once. We have… oh, Ezra, we have, together. It was the one trip they’d gone on in the three years they’d been together, and it had been pure bliss. “And that is why I find it hard to believe that you haven’t.” She knew he wasn’t actually doubting her.  “You write about it like you live there. How do you do that?”

Clara leaned on the railing and listened as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She knew that there would be telltale tracks down her cheeks, pink streaks making it clear that she was crying, but there was nothing she could do. You’re still the man I fell in love with, Ezra. You are. You are, even if you don’t know it.  

Cee inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly with a shrug. “I just… well the way that the characters act when they’re there, they seem… happy. LIke,” she glanced down at the book in her hands, a dreamy look glazing over her eyes as she smiled. “Like it’s a place where you feel safe, where you can be yourself and that…” She looked up at him and shook her head. “I don’t know. That feeling… whatever it is… I think about it when I’m writing and…” she shrugged again, picking her book back up as she finally noticed Clara’s presence, before the flush could come back to her freckled cheeks.

Clara cleared her throat and wiped at her face with the corner of the bandana around her neck. “Well this is… It’s good to see you two out here.” It really is. Oh, fuck. She saw Cee flinch at her tears and quickly shook her head. “Listen, let me just go in and wash up, then um…” she swept a piece of hair back. “Then, Cee, maybe you can help me get some things together in the kitchen? We can eat out here?” 

Cee looked over at Ezra then back at Clara, popping up to follow her inside. 

Like a family. Oh...fuck. She knew it was a dangerous thought, but she couldn’t stop it from happening. She didn’t know if that was even possible. But it’s too late, I already… she sighed as she headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up. “I already want it,” she muttered under her breath, closing the door.

--  --  ---  --  --  

It had been the longest that he’d been awake since getting back to the farm, the longest he’d gone between heavy doses of medication. It had been the heftiest amount of promising and affirming that he’d done, that he’d seen Cee and Clara do. It had been a long, long day for all of them. 

But not a bad one, in spite of it all. 

After dinner, Cee had collected the used plates and brought them inside to handle them, presumably in the dishwashing machine on whatever setting Clara has likely shown her how to use. She had been yawning all through the meal, and the second that the Harvest Star even started to dip back below the horizon, she was back in the doorway to let Ezra and Clara know that she was heading to sleep. 

Good. Get some rest. 

Clara had been silent since the girl had left them alone, but she hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything about Ezra needing to get back inside. She wants to be out here, wants to- 

Suddenly, she stood from her place on the bench next to him, walking to the railing, clearly crying. What does she want? To talk? To… Before he knew what he was doing, Ezra was on his feet, too, unsteady as he was, the muscles in his legs tired and weak now. He reached for her and she turned into him and before he could stop it he was asking her the question that was swirling in his brain. “What do you want, Clara?”

“I want you to…” her eyes fell closed and she let out a breath through her nose, unable to keep it from withering into a whimper. 

Another sweeping summer breeze came through to chase the last vestiges of warmth from the daylight back beneath the horizon. Ezra couldn’t keep himself from noticing the way the sudden caress of cool air had raised tiny bumps over the exposed flesh of her arms. Day came quickly during the harvest, but once the Star touched the horizon, darkness fell fast, too. Cold, huckleberry? He could feel it through her shirt where his palm rested against her side, his fingers curling to fit her curves as she shivered. His tongue slipped out from between his lips, eyes cast down and waiting for hers to open, needing her to finish her sentence before he went any further. What do you want, Clara? What should I-

When she spoke again it was breathless, thin and desperate.  “I want you to kiss me, Ezra.” 

The second syllable of his name was barely free of her lips before his were covering them. He swallowed the rest of the sound from her throat, a muted groan rising from his chest as he felt her reacting to him. Their mouths, their hands, their bodies remembered this, knew exactly how to fall back together, knew what each touch, each flick of their tongues would do to the other. Their skin knew the heat of each other’s breath, the weight of a sigh as it fell against flesh. Clara’s hands slid over his right shoulder, his left cheek, as though they had last done so only yesterday. Ezra’s fingers bunched in the fabric at her waist, his thumb finding its way beneath the hem of her shirt to press into her hip as he tilted his chin, changing the angle of the kiss just enough to cause her to lean into him. He knew it would happen, as certain as the gravitational force that kept their feet on the ground, like the lunar pull that the Green Moon had on the stormy gaseous tides of Bakhroma. He knew her. 

Thoughts entirely halted for the few ticks of time that passed while he kissed her, they came rushing back in sharp and shining waves as he felt it ending. It was everything he had been missing, she was everything that he had been forcing himself to live without. I forced it on both of us. Forced her to starve for this too. Clara’s forehead rested against the crest of his cheekbone, her wet lashes brushing the faint silver arched scar that marked the skin between his eye and his beard. He raised his hand up higher on her waist and let it slip around to her back, palm placed between her shoulder blades and fingers spread wide, trying to hold as much of her as he possibly could. Like I should have been doing all this time. Her arms wound carefully around him, the hand she had on his right shoulder switching to come beneath it now, wrapping around his torso, the other bending to drape around his neck. He felt her lungs shuddering, his hand on her back rising with her uneven breathing, and he knew that she could feel the same ragged rise and fall of his breathing in the way that she held him. It didn’t have to hurt this much, Clara. 

Ezra thought back to the last kiss he’d shared with her and the way that it had undeniably felt like a goodbye, even if it had been uncertain whether or not it was final. That one, too, had been desperate on both of their ends, both of them trying to seal promises that they knew they couldn’t back up, trying to cut deals they could never cover just to keep one another for a few seconds longer. He turned his face to let his lips press against her temple in a lazy, unformed kiss, dragging them into her hair as he inhaled her skin, her scent, letting himself get lost in the fact that regardless of what this moment was, it wasn’t a goodbye. But is it possible for us to- 

“I never thought I’d…” Her voice was small and muffled as she spoke without pulling herself away from him, her words hitting his skin, dampened by her tears. The arm she had around his neck came up so that the fingers of that hand could tangle in his hair. The way that her nails scratched lightly up the nape of his neck and over the back of his head sent a bolt of lightning straight down his spine. Damn, it’s like we never… He tightened his hold on her despite the dull ache between his ribs at the movement. Like we never skipped a beat, Huckleberry. How is that possible? 

Before he could answer himself, she finished what she’d started to say, silencing his thoughts. “I never thought I’d get to kiss you again, Ezra. I thought I’d…” A sigh cracked into a sob as she made a fist in his wavy curls, the choked breath shuddering through her body in a way that he could feel in his bones. “I thought I’d go my whole life without h-having you back.” She caved into the crying then, letting go in a way that seemed like she’d been holding herself back from for far too long, releasing a valve on the pain in her heart that she normally kept twisted tight. “I thought I would die without-” No. Ezra kissed her wherever his lips could land. His blood turned to ice at the thought of her gone, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows came together. No, my Clara, we’re both still here. “Without you ever coming b-back to me.” 

It was an absolutely horrific thought, one that he never entertained even in the darkest of his nightmares. The very idea that he might have come back to the farm only to find that some tragic misfortune had befallen the only woman that he would ever love- that he very well could have turned up on Kamrea only to find that he’d condemned her to leave this world without even his hand to hold- it was downright blasphemy as far as his guilty heart was concerned. But it’s the truth. Oh, fuck. He felt tears of his own gathering in the corners of his eyes. Anything could have happened to her while he was out recklessly trying to win a losing battle, trying to get even with Fate, and he wouldn’t have been around to stop it or step in or be there for the aftermath. A sudden dizziness spun around his head and sped up the beat of his heart, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep them both upright for much longer. Need to… need to sit down. Need to- 

He kissed her again where he still pressed his whiskered lips to her warm skin, gently pulling her trembling body backwards towards the porch bench where they’d been sitting when they first started talking. She started to pull away, concerned that she had hurt him, but he put a stop to that immediately, flexing his fingers so that they pressed into the muscle of her back, coaxing her to stay connected to him. “No, it’s alright. C’mere, Clara, I just... just need to get off my feet.” He ran the edge of his nose over the spot he’d just kissed as he sunk into the bench and eased her down with him. “Want you close.” 

Those last three words came out in a weak, raspy whisper that was almost lost to the sound of the chimes, the rattle of the Thulian stalks. Almost, but not quite, and he knew that she heard it from the way she moved her other hand into his hair, clutching him as close as she could, nodding as her lips trailed up his jaw. He took as deep a breath as he dared, not wanting to risk a fit of coughs or wheezing rendering him unable to provide her with whatever comfort that he could. He waited until she settled next to him, fitting herself against the left side of his chest, slowly letting her hands fall free from his hair to rest instead on his shoulder and hip, and then he wrapped his arm behind and around her, dropped his cheek over the top of her head. 

Oh… Oh, Kevva, Huckleberry- this… 

Even though they were both broken in jagged ways that he never wanted for either of them, the way it felt to hold her again, to let her mold herself to his form, was overwhelming in every sense. Salty tears still rolled quietly down his cheeks as he ran his finger tips slowly up and down her side, but he didn’t try to hold them back. No point, not now.      

“Ezra?” She broke through the silence that had stretched through two more wispy breezes, and he swallowed at the sound of his name so close to his ear. Inhaling through his nose, his eyes fell shut and he hummed a response. “Are you… are you home now?” 

Home. Clara had been the only home he could ever truly lay claim to. Not the farm or the house or the fields, but the woman who opened her heart and let him climb inside of it. “Is that what you…” he hadn’t realized he was answering, but it was too late to pull the words back so he winced and pressed on. “Is that what you want, Clara? Do you want me to-” 

“Yes.” It came out in a rush and she sucked in a breath immediately as though the single word had been in there, impeding her airway for the last five years. “Yes, Ezra, thats-” she paused to press her lips to his pulsepoint, both of them letting their held breaths go in small, squeaky whimpers and sodden sobs. “Fuck,” she licked her lips to wet them without moving away from where she was nuzzled into his neck, the tip of her tongue making collateral contact to remind him that his body remembered that, too. “Fuck, Ezra, it’s all I’ve wanted, it’s all I’ve… I know there’s more. There’s more and we have a lot to figure out and…” 

She was leaving quick kisses everywhere she could in between words, but she finally pulled back to look into his eyes, the dim light of the single bulb near the door finding every fleck of gold in her hazel green eyes to make him wonder how he ever went digging for those golden amber gems when he had such gleaming treasures right fucking here. She was right. There was more. But it suddenly seemed surmountable if what she was offering was real. “Clara…” he raised his hand up to curve around her cheek, thumb sweeping beneath her eye and over the freckles that he knew were there even if he couldn’t see them in the dark. My Clara. 

“I have done a great many foolish things in my life, Huckleberry” he finally said, working as hard as he could to keep his voice steady and firm. Shaking his head, he felt his heart jump up into his throat and he swallowed it down to continue what was easily the most important answer to any question he had ever been asked. “But turning my back on you a second time would be the worst of all my offenses yet.” He took a breath as she circled his wrist with her fingers, turning to press her lips to his palm. “If you will have me, Clara, then yes, I am home.” 

She took a shuddering breath, eyes closing so that whatever tears were still caught between her lashes had to slip out from under them. Hiding her face in his broad palm for just half a second, she brought it to her chest and placed it over her heart. 

“Welcome home, Ezra.”       

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Ghosts That We Knew

A/N: Just a short little piece to keep the “write every damn day” momentum going using the Day 3 prompt from this September Prompts list- foggy mornings. This fits into the Point of No Return Universe and it technically takes place after the events of the epilogue Petrichor (which I am still writing) but it doesn’t give anything away about what’s still to come for Ezra, Clara and Cee. Title comes from a Mumford & Sons song of the same name. (give it a listen if you want to up the foggy vibes) 

Prompt: Foggy Mornings 

Word Count: 1.1k

It was the silence that woke him. 

Eyes still closed, Ezra inhaled slowly through his nose and held it. Counting to three in his head, he listened to the thick, fresh quiet that had settled in place of the constant rapping of raindrops against the windows, the roof, the leaves of the Crater-Oak next to the house before releasing the breath he took. The muted, muffled absence of the metronomic rhythm stuffed his ears and told him that the monsoon had retreated back to the Lakelands. Rain’s done. He blinked, lashes fluttering and eyelids wrinkling, and then opened his eyes fully. 

Another sigh slipped out as he took in her still sleeping form beside him, the rain-washed pre-dawn light that crept in through the curtains creating a sort of aura over her skin. Oh, my Clara. Laying on his side, he leaned forward to find her shoulder with his lips, pressing a kiss to the cluster of freckles there. A throaty groan emanated from somewhere in his chest as he dragged her closer, arm winding more tightly around her as though he wanted to eliminate the boundaries between their bodies entirely. Keeping his lips in contact with the ridge of her shoulder, he kissed his way up her neck, smiling as she swallowed and finally stirred. 

Clara let out a dreamy hum, hips shifting against his as he felt one of her small hands circle his wrist. “G’ morning, Ezra,” she murmured, voice impeded slightly by the pillow and the yawn she tried to hide in it. “‘S it still rainin’?”

Ezra’s chest warmed, his heart spinning at the way sleep still stuck in her throat, thickening her tongue. “Uh-uh, Huckleberry,” he left one more peck behind her ear, her soft hair tickling the tip of his nose. “Listen.” She laid still, holding her breath for a few beats the way he had when he first woke so that she could focus on the sound, and then she was turning onto her back with a sleep-polished smile on her face. Kevva what I fool I was to ever leave this farm. 

She didn’t let him dwell on his misgivings for too long though, reaching up with one hand to rake her fingertips through the platinum splotch in his hair. “S’your favorite part of the rainy season, Ezra.” Letting her hand curve around his cheek, she swept her thumb under his eye. “The end of it.” 

A chuckle fell from his lips as they stretched into a quick grin and he turned his face to kiss the heel of her palm. “Indeed it is, for now I get to see you in proper daylight, without the filter of the clouds to dim your shine.” 

She laughed, her hand falling to her own face to rub over her eyes. “Mmm, I don’t feel very shiny at the moment.” Nonsense, Huckleberry you are always the brightest light in any room, no matter the weather. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, I’ll meet you downstairs in a few?” 

Ezra nodded, blinking twice before leaning in to kiss her nose and then they both rose from the bed, Clara heading for the bathroom and Ezra getting himself together to go down to the kitchen. Pausing outside the closed door to Cee’s room, he waited to make sure that the girl was alright, that the sudden stoppage of the rain hadn’t startled her the same way that the torrents of it had when they first began to fall. Still sleeping, little bird? Just like the rest of the house, her room only answered with silence and he continued on down the stairs. 

Steps creaking beneath his bare feet, Ezra descended and turned directly into the kitchen. Flicking the light on so that he could see to set up the brewer for tea. Using the new handle Cee had installed, he scooped the purpled powder into it and maneuvered the basket, slotting it into the machine to start the drip. That done, he lifted his head and looked out the round window over the sink and was immediately met with a wall of dense, white fog, chest tightening around the warmth that waking up with the woman he loved always put there. It is my favorite time of the season, Clara, you were right about that. 

The pipes were still shaking in the walls which meant that she was still in the shower, so Ezra took the opportunity to step out into the blank, quiet morning alone. Though the silence had been almost impenetrable when he first woke, it was thinner out on the porch, diffused by the Thulian fields and the clouds of fog that were rolling over them. The door banged shut behind him, but he didn’t hear it. His attention was on the wisps of vapor hovering over the ground and the beams of light from the rising Vernal Star turning into soft yellow orbs as they passed through the fog. 

To many people, even those who grew up there, the phenomenon of Kamrea’s fog cover following the rains sent shivers and chills down their spines, evoking spectral imagery and playing tricks with their eyes. In truth, Ezra also saw ghosts when he looked out at the ground cloud, at the wisps moving like spirits through the watercolor landscape. But instead of anything sinister he saw it as a release, a rising, a clearance of all the things that haunted him through the last year. The last five years. While most referred to the daylight’s effect on the fog as a burning off, he saw it more of a warming, a melting, the air evening out and the weather laying down its arms in surrender. To him, it was the planet’s way of reminding its inhabitants that everything fades; all fogs lift, all the things often mistaken for ghosts flicker and vanish, and that once they did there was nothing but life and growth left in their wake. 

When the door opened again, Ezra turned to see Clara and Cee coming outside clutching steaming mugs, the young girl carrying a second one for him, her blonde hair rumpled from sleep. He reached to take his beverage from her as Clara wound her arm around his waist and fit herself against his side and filled his chest with warmth once more, the three of them silently watching the rest of the ghosts vacate the fields. 

Life is for the living, and that’s what I intend to do with the rest of mine. 

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

Point of No Return - Part Five

A/N: This part has the very first bit of Ezra and Cee that I ever wrote, before I ever even met Clara. It’s also probably the sweetest, most innocent interaction I’ve ever written... along with some of the most painful parts of this story and some light steam for good measure. Because I believe in being well-rounded. 

Warning: Language, mention of character death, injuries, trauma 

Word Count: 4.7k  

Summary: Time can pass in large chunks and small slices. As time passes and Ezra starts to make real headway in his recovery, he Clara and Cee all brace themselves for the conversations that they know need to be had. Abe is back. 

Cee wasn’t used to time. 

She wasn’t used to having it on her hands with nothing pressing her to complete a task- no clock running down or gauge turning red on her oxygen filter. She wasn’t used to the way that days were measured on Kamrea. On the Green Moon or up on the freighter she only ever knew what time it was by checking the chronometer on her wrist and even then she only knew it in terms of cycles, not hours. It had been years since she'd spent long enough in one place to know what a day was, how long, how bright, or when night came, to develop any kind of circadian rhythm. Even the brief collection of months she and Damon had stayed on Puggart Bench hadn’t been enough to acquaint her with the concepts of day and night. Their apartment- which seemed a generous term for their dwelling there- didn’t have windows, and most of her time was occupied with whatever responsibilities her father either bestowed upon her or was too medicated to perform himself. 

Clean the thrower. Scrub the filters. Plot the course. Carry the starter. Fill the bladders. 

Curt clips of direction were all she got from him, and any pushback earned her a harsher reiteration of the same order. Clean the thrower, now. When he brought her on jobs she was just a pair of hands awaiting instruction. He didn’t want her input regardless of how observant or rational it was. He didn’t want to teach her, just expected her to know things and became frustrated with her when she didn’t. Ezra was right. I was just a utility to him. Damon didn’t have to pay her, but he couldn’t fire her either, and that predicament seemed to grate on him. It had certainly shredded any semblance of a normal relationship between him and Cee. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

Things were different on Clara’s farm. The woman had asked nothing of her, given her no jobs to complete, no expectations to fall short of. She had only shown her kindness since the moment Cee met her, which was something else she struggled to get used to. Maybe I shouldn’t. 

She stroked the plump orange cat that she shared the window seat in Ezra’s room with, the creature purring as he rolled to his back and pressed himself against her leg, encouraging her to keep petting him. Her bottom lip was starting to develop a raw spot in the corner from how she was constantly chewing it in thought or anxiety. She couldn’t help from pulling it between her teeth though, as she looked over at the man asleep on the bed. What’s going to happen when he’s better? 

Since waking up from the sedation he’d been under, Ezra had been spending longer periods sitting alert and upright in bed. Three days, she reminded herself, watching as the bright orange orb rose over the horizon to set the Thulian grass ablaze with color, that’s how long we’ve been here. The nerve block patches that the Med Center had told Clara to apply to Ezra’s wounds knocked him out for a few hours at a time, but when they wore off he woke back up like clockwork. His breathing was improving, the fever almost gone, and the angry red areas around the end of his right arm and the gash in his chest were fading. He still couldn’t get out of bed to go anywhere farther than the bathroom without nearly collapsing into a fit of coughs and wheezing, but it seemed, at least for the most part, that he was coming out of the worst of it. 

Every ragged inhale and pained grunt he made still had Cee on edge, and she still preferred to spend most of the day in the room with him reading or working on her own copy of The Streamer Girl. She would venture downstairs for an hour or so, which she was learning was a chunk of time that felt longer or shorter depending on the activity, a few times a day to appease Clara’s worry that she ate enough. On the second morning, she even sat with her in the kitchen for a while, looking out the window as the workers started swinging their tools to harvest the cloudy pink tops of the tall grass. 

That morning, Siggi came up into the house to report on the status of the harvest and check on Ezra, the man greeting Cee by name with a warm smile. His light curls were streaked with the powdery pollen. 

“If you wanna come out and check out the harvest, we’re still a little ahead of schedule. I could show you how everything works if you’re interested.” He grinned, nodding towards where she sat. “Maybe turn that blonde hair of yours pink?” 

At first Cee wasn’t sure how to respond. No one had offered to teach or show her anything in years if it wasn’t for their own benefit. Does that mean I’m supposed to help?  “I...that’s, that sounds-” 

“Stop trying to put her to work, Sig,” Clara cut in, passing him a basket of freshly baked muffins to bring out to the crew, “the farm’s not going anywhere, she can decide for herself when she’s ready.” 

I can? She was reminded of Ezra’s words up on the Green. “Shoot or help, just make a move.” “We’ll be on that freighter in a tick, you need to think about your next move.” “Go, you can make it.” 

He and Clara both seemed to think that Cee was capable of choosing her own path, something that she had never once been encouraged to do. It was both refreshing to know that others didn’t look at her as a helpless, lost little girl, and terrifying to think that if she chose wrong, she’d have no real safety net to fall into. No parents, no family, no friends anywhere. The only people she had were there, on that farm. The only people I have right now are still strangers… and I’m still a stranger to them.  

Clara had told Cee that she could stay however long she needed to. But what if Ezra didn’t stay? What if they decided that being together wasn’t going to work? She knew that the two of them hadn’t spent any time talking about anything aside from what Ezra needed to recover, and she knew that needed to happen before any hard and final decisions were made. She continued to mindlessly run her fingers through the fluffy fur covering Abe’s belly. I’d go with him if he left. She felt resolute in that decision. He was someone she trusted, someone who trusted her, and neither of them had many others to add to that list. She doubted that Ezra had anyone but Clara. I’ve got no one. Her hand froze midway through a light scratch under the cat’s chin as Ezra coughed in his sleep and a thought crept into her mind. What if he leaves… and he doesn’t want me to come with him? Would Clara still-

Abe swatted her thigh with his front paw and yowled his displeasure that she had stopped scratching him. “Sorry,” she muttered as the cat blinked up at her, his eyes narrowed as if to show his feeling of betrayal before he jumped from the window seat with a hefty thud. He looked back over his shoulder as she pulled her legs up onto the cushion, picking up her book and resuming where she had left off before the cat had curled up beside her demanding attention. “I said sorry.” 

She flipped to her page and started reading, half hoping Abe would change his mind and come back. Part of not knowing how to measure time was not knowing what to do with it all. At least the cat kept her company while her mind churned with all the possible outcomes of her current situation. Abe scurried out the door and a few seconds later she heard his plodding footsteps heading down the stairs, no doubt to find Clara and shout about his empty bowl. Even the cat had a routine, things to fill his time. Cee sighed, flattening out her page and continuing, trying to forget everything and immerse herself in the plot of her favorite fantasy. 

--  --  --  --  --  --  

Clara sat at the kitchen table like she had the previous two mornings, pouring over medical paperwork again. According to what she was reading and the amount of medication Ezra had left, he would only be receiving the heavy dosage nerve blockers for another two days. After that, he would be in a little more pain as he recovered, but his body wouldn’t crave sleep as much as it did on the drugs. He’d be able to eat solid foods instead of the nutrition pills supplied by the doctors, and so long as he wasn’t having a setback in terms of his breathing or the infection, he was encouraged to get up and start trying to move, pushing his strength and his lungs slowly over the following two to three weeks.

And then what?  

Swallowing a sip of tea that had long gone cold, she ran her fingers through her hair to comb it back. Slow, weak, dependant- those were not words that she ever imagined would be applied to Ezra. He was passionate, plunged headfirst into everything he did. He was strong and steadfast. Now he needed help sitting up, got winded midway through a sentence. This is going to be so hard for him. 

Unable to stop, she found herself thinking of the first time Ezra ever came home to her on the farm. The way that he ran the last few steps to wrap his arms around her. The way he crushed her close to his chest and buried his face in her hair. The way he pulled her down to the ground and kissed her like he was a man dying of thirst and she’d just handed him a tall glass of the purest water on the planet. The way his hands never seemed satisfied that they’d had their fill of her. 

Clara sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Her stomach flipped and her lips tingled, body reminding her that it hadn’t forgotten how it felt to be loved by Ezra. A small whine came from the back of her throat as she imagined the way his breath would hit her cheek as he’d pull away panting. The way his patchy beard would scratch her freshly kissed lips as he dragged his mouth up her jaw. The way he’d speak low but clear, his words vibrating against her skin. 

“Every single one of my free thoughts for the last forty nine days has been consumed by you, Huckleberry.” He paused to press his lips to her racing pulse, sending a shiver through her entire being with his next words. “And you know that I have quite the imagination.” 

Reaching up to brush her fingers through the blonde streak near his hairline, now pink with the early Thulian dust that had collected there as the two of them tumbled to the ground, Clara looked straight into his eyes. “And what in Kevva’s name do you think I’ve been thinking about, Ezra?” 

She’d dragged him inside then to prove that for every thought of her he had while traipsing through the forest, she had one of him while waiting here on the farm. After, they’d ended up in the shower together and she had washed the pollen from his hair, rinsing the pale pink color away. The cramped stall was hardly big enough for the two of them to stand in there let alone do anything more acrobatic, but neither of them had been ready to separate, the need to hold each other, to share slow kisses and trade deliberate touches superseding anything else. She could still remember how his clean skin smelled as he cradled her to his body under the warm water. 

Fuck, Ezra. She opened her eyes, tears gathering to cloud her vision that she hastily wiped away. Fuck, we were so in love. 

She still loved him with all that was left of her heart, and she knew that she always would. There was no way to escape a love like the one she had for Ezra, and no matter how much pain had resulted from it, she wouldn’t dare try to leave it behind. But what Clara didn’t know, what the medical instructions and doctors couldn’t tell her, was whether or not that would be enough to revive the things that were broken between them. As readily as the happy memories of his returns sprung to the forefront of her mind, there was also the one from one of the worst days in her life. 

When he came home alone. Without Seth. 

He’d be almost twenty-six now. Clara pressed the heel of her palm into her eyes, a heavy weight landing on her chest as she tried to take in a breath, her lungs giving her just as much resistance as they had the day that Ezra clutched her shaking shoulders, his own sobs mixing with hers as he fought to keep them both on their feet. As he told her that her brother was gone. 

“You were supposed to keep him safe,” She cried into his chest as her whole body revolted against the idea that she would never see Seth again. “How did this happen? How did this-” Violent, soul shuddering pain gripped her heart then as the sky spun and she felt sick. “Ezra, how? How did-” 

Her knees gave out then and she collapsed into him. Guiding them both slowly down to the ground, he kept his arms around her even as she balled her fists and beat them weakly against his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Clara,” he mumbled between hurried kisses pressed to the side of her head, his voice thin. “I’m so sorry, I’m…” 

It was all he could manage, and they stayed like that long into the night, there on the lawn in the dark until she was barely conscious of the world around her, until her sobs had run dry and her bones felt hollow and her teeth were vibrating from the ferocity of her grief. He held her in the silver moonlight, giving her every last ounce of strength he could muster. She knew, even as she blamed him, that it wasn’t his fault. That he had already hefted more guilt on his own shoulders than she could ever pile on. That he was hurting, too, but that he was letting her take her pain out on him. She knew, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying those things, and she knew that he knew it, too. 

So much had gone wrong after that. And so much had gone wrong for him again. 

Clara forced herself to stand then, clearing her throat and shoving the rest of the memories back into storage. Not now. 

Abe tottered into the kitchen then, small purrs accompanying each footstep, not stopping until he ran directly into Clara’s leg. She laughed even though the thick lump that was clogging her throat, tears falling regardless of how she was stubbornly trying to fight them. “Guess you’re hungry, huh?” 

The cat sang out at the mention of food, running over to his bowl and Clara used the few minutes as she fed him to compose herself. It wasn’t time to wallow in the past. It was time to see if there was any coming back from it for them. 

Tonight, she decided. She’d talk Cee into finally moving downstairs into the den where the pullout had been made up for the last four nights in preparation for the girl. And then, once she’d taken care of his medications and bandages, she’d talk to Ezra. Really talk. She sighed, her stomach flipping and falling all at once. 

About everything. 

--  --  --  --  --  --  --

The sound of the cat leaping from the window followed by the ruffling of pages greeted Ezra as he blinked his eyes open. Inhaling through his nose, he focused on letting the breath back out without sputtering or coughing. His lungs shuddered in his chest as he struggled to get the last of the air out, but he managed to take a second breath before he broke into a dry cough. Progress, I guess.  

He felt a pair of eyes lock onto him as he cleared his throat and with his next breath he addressed them. “‘M fine, Cee.” But are you? He wondered how everything the girl had been through was taking its toll on her.  

“Yeah?” She asked, trying to sound uninterested. “Well, you look like shit.” 

He had to smile as she used his own line against him. I’m sure I do. “You do know that there are,” he winced, grunting softly as he struggled to push himself up onto his elbow. The sound made her head snap up again and she turned instantly in his direction, the pretense gone, her eyes full of concern. A book tumbled from her lap as she gripped the edge of the window seat and swung her legs down to stand. Ezra closed his eyes and shook his head slowly as he finished adjusting his position, finally raising his palm towards her as a sign that she didn’t need to worry. I’ll be alright, birdie. He took a breath, then another, and by the time he had opened his eyes again, Cee was reaching down for her discarded reading material. Good. Pointing at the book as she drew her knees back up to her chest and started flipping through the pages to find her place, he continued. “As I was saying, there are a plethora of nicer places to sit and read on this farm than here in this room.”

“I know,” she muttered, using her index finger to brush a piece of hair behind her ear before bringing it back down to flip more pages. 

“Well then why,” he reached over to the bedside table, top lip and right cheek twitching slightly as he tried to conceal the groan that the small movement elicited so as not to draw her attention again. “Are you holed up in that window seat for the third day in a row,” fingers wrapping around the glass of water on the table, he paused to let out a breath and then settled back into his spot, “and not out in the barn loft or... down by the creek?” 

“I can see the creek from here.” She answered, one eyebrow lifting as she found her place and smoothed her hand down over the page. 

Ezra took a sip from the cup, swallowing the water slowly. The relief was instant on his dry throat, still agitated from the amount of Dust particulates he had inhaled while disconnected from Cee’s filter, and he had to stop himself from gulping the whole thing down at once, not wanting the cold liquid to turn his empty stomach. Lowering the glass to rest atop his thigh, he let his head fall back against the pillow. “That is true,” he agreed, squinting at her as she pointedly avoided making eye contact with anything but the book she held. His pinky slid up and down through the condensation on the outside of his glass. “But I know from experience that the view from here, while picturesque, is simply incomparable to sitting on the bank and-”

“I don’t want to sit in the mud on the bank.” Her eyes flicked up at him then, flashing that same unexpected intensity that he had first seen when she held his gun on him in the drop pod after shooting him with her own.  

“Mm-hmm.” He sniffed as she returned to her reading, a few beats passing in silence before the rustling of the turning page broke it. “Well if the mud is what is deterring you from venturing out of this room,” he lifted his glass and took another sip as she sighed, flipping the book pageside down on the cushion beside her so that she could turn and face him, crossing her arms over her chest in a show of annoyance. But that’s all it is, a show. He knew what was really keeping her inside. She knew it, too, but getting her to say it out loud was another thing entirely. She is a stubborn one. “There is a very well-crafted swing hanging from a crater-oak not a stone’s throw from the porch.” He paused, catching his breath and trying not to look like it was difficult. “I know, because I am the one responsible for its fabrication, and I can personally attest to-” 

“Ezra.” She cut him off then, fingertips flying to her temples and pressing inwards. “I don’t want to…” A frustrated sound somewhere between a groan and a whine came from the back of her throat then and she let her hands and eyes fall to her legs. “I’m fine here, okay?” Plucking at a loose thread from a tear in the knee of her pants, she lifted her eyes to his once more. This time the intensity was gone, replaced with something else he’d seen on the Green, something she seemed hell bent on trying to curtail but helpless in doing so- a vulnerability that she herself was terrified of. 

“Alright, birdie,” he nodded, keeping his eyes on her for a few seconds before reaching over to set the glass down again. This time he didn’t hide the wince, a sharp, tight pain digging in between his ribs, the skin around the still raw wound pulling and stretching as he moved. It is what it is. She hadn’t picked her book back up yet, still plucking absently at the string. Jutting his chin out, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “That what I think it is?” He tried for a curious chuckle, the sound coming out more like a choked gasp than he would have liked. Clearing his throat he ignored it, pointing to the title of the text. “The Streamer Girl. Thought you said you lost your copy?” 

Cee looked down at the paperback, picking it up and taking note of the page number before closing it. “I did. This is Clara’s.” 

Of course it is. His heart thumped against his ribs at the thought that even with all of this, his sudden crash landing in her life once more, that Clara still found a way to try to make it easier for Cee. Oh, Huckleberry. 

Cee hadn’t noticed his reaction, continuing on. “She… she saw me looking at it on the bookshelf in the hallway and,” the girl turned the book over in her hands, fondly admiring the cover. “Well I wanted to compare it to mine, see how close I was to the real thing.” The hint of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and he could tell that she was pleased with her results. “I’m almost finished, actually,” she looked up at him and he saw something new in her eyes, and despite the discomfort he was in, he found himself smiling, too. It was excitement that he saw, and though he hadn’t known her for long at all, he knew that it was just as new for her to feel it as it was for him to see it. “I’ll probably be done before I fall asleep tonight,” she laughed under her breath. “I already know the story, so I read it fast but,” she chewed her bottom lip. “Did...you said that you wanted to… I mean, if you’re feeling up to it, you could-” 

“Well, of course I’m gonna read it, how could I possibly abstain after you gave it such a...a glowing review?” She rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed, climbing a tic higher up her cheek. “But I don’t want to read that one, I want to read your copy, the one you’ve been workin’ on.” 

She shook her head rapidly, scrunching her face up, a sputtering sound coming from her lips. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous. You don’t know the story, you can’t just… mine’s not the real thing it’s-” 

“Well hold on a minute now,” he furrowed his brow, and pushed his palm against the mattress to lift himself into an even more upright position. He let out a grunt from the effort, but the pain wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier. “Did you not tell me that you have conjured up additional scenes to fill in the gaps in the story?” 

“Well, yes, but-”

He spoke over her, cutting her off. “And, didn’t you tell me that it made the characters, what are their names? Clo and… Reive?” She nodded. “Didn’t you tell me that it made them feel more real? Like someone that you could talk to?” 

She sighed. “Yes, but-” 

“Well that is the version of the story that I am interested in. Now are you really going to deny me access to the deluxe edition?” 

Cee shook her head. “Fine. But you have to-” She bit the corner of her lower lip. “I haven’t... “ She rolled her eyes. “No one’s ever read my writing before so-” 

“Well then it would be my pleasure to have that honor.” He held up his hand. “And I promise to offer my feedback as soon as I have finished indulging in your carefully crafted story.” 

Before Cee could respond, Clara knocked twice on the door frame to announce her presence. Ezra’s full attention switched from the girl in the window to the woman in the doorway. She shifted her weight, one hand on her hip, and he was hit with the thought he’d woken up with every day of the last five years. 

What I wouldn’t give to go back, Clara. 

He watched her bottom lip quiver before she took in a breath, and he knew that she was preparing to say something that she was nervous about. He’d seen that same thing the night she asked him not to look at him like he was falling in love with her, right before he’d kissed her and told her that it wasn’t possible. It’s alright, Huckleberry. Whatever it is, it’s alright. He knew that simply wanting that to be true did absolutely nothing, but it was all that he could offer until he at least knew what she was going to say. 

She had ended up calling Cee out into the hallway, her eyes landing on him as she waited for the girl. A few moments later, Cee was back, collecting her things from the window. “I’m going to sleep downstairs tonight,” she explained to Ezra, almost as though she was looking to him to make sure that was alright, that he wouldn’t need her. He nodded. “Clara, um…” she glanced back at the doorway, where the woman was standing just out of sight. “She...she said she wanted to talk to you, so…” 

“Nothing for you to worry about, little bird, okay?” 

She swallowed and Ezra watched a few thoughts cross through her mind before she nodded. “Okay.” Her lips twitched down into a quick frown before nodding again, and then she was gone. I wonder what she’s...why is she so worried about…

Clara was back, entering the room and pulling the door shut behind her, the click of it closing making his mind go quiet. “Hi, Ezra,” she said then, trying and failing to keep her voice from faltering. She didn’t let him return the greeting though, sighing before she went on. “I think it’s time we… It’s time that we talked.” 

Oh, Huckleberry. “I think,” he felt a deep crease cut across his forehead as his brow furrowed. I wish I could take it all. “I think you’re right, Clara.” 

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Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags, please feel free to let me know! :) 

Tags:  @something-tofightfor​ @alraedesigns​ @pheedraws​ @shoopidly​ @fific7​ @valkblue​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​

[the-blind-assassin-12]

...

@krissology​ opened a can of worms the size of Alaska this morning. 

WOMAN. EVERY THOUGHT? We would be here from now until the end of time. May I offer instead... 

Everything about Ezra that made me want to write for him.

Lets start with things he says: 

“Contained within the act of killing is a broad spectrum of technique.” - Yessir there is. And the fact that he SAYS it to me means that he’s explored several points on that spectrum. *Cue my brain going on a murderous rampage in space with Ezra. 

“Well this is something that I have never seen in all my time in the Green- a little girl.” -  So right away we know that he’s spent a lot of time on the moon, enough to know that Cee’s presence there is unorthodox, and my first thought was Well what HAVE you seen in all your time on the Green? And how much time are we talking here?” So right away I started coming up with scenarios that he may have been in up there. 

“Your girl is scared. You should listen to her.” - I know, this is like five seconds after the above quote, but I’m counting it as a separate moment. He knows that this place is dangerous. He knows that HE is dangerous. He went from trying to get Damon to lead him to the Queen’s Lair to backing out of that plan for Cee’s sake and giving Damon a chance to do the same. Of course the asshat doesn’t take it, because he doesn’t truly care about his daughter’s safety and does the absolute minimum for her, but Ezra gave him the chance to do more and I liked that about him. 

“I myself have frequently indulged (in vengeance) and have not often found regret.” - Oh? Oh have you, Ezra? How frequently? And for what? I could not stop thinking about what kind of revenge this man was after. He seems intelligent and level headed, not someone that typically leans towards something like vengeance. So I needed to come up with a reason for him to do something reckless like pursuing revenge.

“I am indeed (a killer)” - He knows what he is and what he’s done and how he got to be who he is. But he’s clearly not JUST a killer, or else he’d have no real reason to keep Cee alive. He’s not ruthless or cruel without reason. So when has he killed? Who were they? And what were his reasons? 

“No job too gritty, no love too intimidating.” - R.I.P. Ezra’s right arm. But wait what? What gritty jobs? WHAT INTIMIDATING LOVE? *cue the resume I started keeping mental notes of for Ezra and my first inkling of Clara. This man is just so well-balanced. Not afraid of anything, even love. Wow. So I knew I needed to give him someone worth all that devotion and drive. 

“You need someone to blame, you blame me.” - The second he hears that Cee carries any blame or guilt over Damon’s death (guilt that Damon meticulously planted in her brain over the course of 14 years. asshat.) he gives her somewhere else to put that blame- squarely on his shoulders. To me this says that he’s familiar with carrying burdens...maybe even other people’s burdens, just so that they don’t have to. 

Moving on, just general things about him that caught my attention: 

HIS VOCABULARY. Hot damn, sir, please speak to me forever. I don’t care what you talk about just talk. I love words and he loves them too. One of the things that I stuck on Ezra’s Resume was book shelver at the University library on Central. I HC that he didn’t get a formal education all the way through because of the circumstances of his life, but he never stopped looking for opportunities to learn and expand his mind and I liked thinking about him hurrying to put books away so he’d have time to sneak read during his shift. 

His scar. I wanted, no, NEEDED to know how he got that. It obviously shows that he’s Lived some Life, and it was actually one of the first things I decided when I started writing PoNR. 

The way that he treats Cee. She’s a child. She’s not HIS child. But he still does what he can to keep her safe, keep her relaxed, make sure she gets off the Green alive. Yeah, sure, he NEEDS her after he’s injured... but he’s only injured BECAUSE of her. But that doesn’t matter because like I said SHE IS A CHILD and he sees that and goes out of his way to protect that. There is a lot coming up in PoNR regarding what Cee represents to Ezra, what he thought when he first saw her, and what it meant to him that she came back for him. And I’m equally excited and nervous to get to those parts. 

Another thing that made me want to write him was the feral way that he rips open that patch gun with his teeth. I like a man that uses all his tools as needed.  

 THANK YOU for opening this can. I love him. And am ALWAYS happy to talk about him. 

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Point of No Return - Part Ten

A/N: Hey there friends! Just wanted to take the chance to scream out a THANK YOU to everyone who has read and supported this story thus far. It has quickly become one of my favorite things that I have ever written, and sharing it with you has been amazing. We are oh, so close to the end, and I am going to try like hell to make sure that there are no more delays. I started writing the epilogue last night, THAT’S how close we are. There are only two parts + the ending left. Yikes. Anyway, this one is a little bit Ezra-heavy, but... I don’t think anyone will be upset with that. Lot’s of callbacks to part one and to the original script. Oh boy i just got very nervous about this chapter. Okay bye. 

Warnings: violence, murder, language, death

Summary: Ezra contemplates what being home truly means, and all of the things he’s done and gone through to get there, all the sacrifices and choices he made, and all of the pain he has caused to himself and others. Clara makes her choice extremely clear, and Cee has things to say. 

Word Count: 5.9k

You know, you make it exceedingly difficult for me sometimes, Huckleberry. 

Ezra inhaled through his nose, a cool breeze chilling him awake, the sound of his own voice filling his mind as he blinked his eyes in the dark. He was immediately met with a stiff ache in his back from the position he had fallen asleep in, the hard slats of the wooden bench digging into his spine. The heavy exhaustion in his chest hadn’t gone away either, and the first few breaths he took were strained. Both sensations were eclipsed though, as he looked down and realized that his left arm was still curled around Clara.

“Hmm? Tell me what it is I make so difficult, Ezra.”

He could hear the nearly ethereal quality that her tone took when she was completely and wholly happy. Her sighs would dip into laughter, lips too tripped up by her smile to worry about speaking any less than lazily, words dissolving on her tongue as they turned back into sighs. He could picture the almost astral twinkle in her eyes just before her lashes would sweep together, spectacular and bright like the last few rays of daylight being swallowed by the horizon. Clara was never more beautiful to him than when she radiated euphoria. Each grin that forced her cheeks to climb and her eyes to squint etched deeper lines into her face, and Ezra loved knowing that she would carry them as proof of all the times she had smiled. 

The thought that she hadn’t added much to the depth of those lines in far too long was inescapable, and he cringed inwardly knowing that instead, she’d suffered deeper cracks to her heart.  

His own heart clenched, the muscle completely contracting into a hard, tight mass then, his nostrils flaring in anger at the man responsible for those fissures. Himself. Her breath hit his throat as she shifted, still asleep, and reminded him that the time for anger had come and gone, that such thoughts were indulgent and selfish. The thing in Ezra’s chest thumped back into motion as he focused instead on the warmth he felt wherever their bodies touched- his oblique where she leaned into him, the underside of his forearm where it was bent around her, the inner curve of his shoulder where her cheek rested, the toughened skin of his palm where it was tucked around her hip, his hip where her hand mirrored his hold, his waist where her arm was draped across it. Swallowing hard, his eyes fell shut as the rest of his words swam in his mind.

Determining whether I am awake, or still only dreaming of having you in my embrace. 

At first it seemed cruel that his mind would call upon that moment to convince him that he was in the waking world and not stumbling through a dream. That specific moment, when they were both so saturated in bliss that it spilled over into every mundane task, each second of every day. It was so strong that Ezra could feel the heat from the steam coming off the tea she was brewing in that memory. He could feel himself slipping his right arm up from her waist to wrap around her chest, her content sigh like a spectre tickling the phantom nerves he was left with now. He could feel her heartbeat thumping against the skin of a forearm that no longer existed, his own pulse in his wrist thudding back at the same tempo. 

A memory they wouldn’t be able to replicate now, things they would never be able to feel again. 

How bitter, how brutal it seemed at first, to pour salt into an already searing wound in that fashion. But it was for that reason exactly, he realized, that it had to be that moment and not any of the countless others, to act as a litmus test. He’d never have that again anywhere but in his dreams. What he was feeling now- the stiff, sore ache in his back, the way his lungs were heavy in his chest, the need to touch her like an unreachable itch in the ghost of his right hand- Ezra knew that feeling those things juxtaposed with that memory was the best way to prove that it wasn’t a dream. 

He opened his eyes then, watching in the low light of the single bulb near the door as his exhale ruffled her hair. Another breath caught in his throat and he felt himself flex his arm around her. It was the smallest of things, the simple displacement of a few strands from the puff of air he had released. But it brought on a strong, white-capped rapid fueled flood of emotion as he recalled so many of the times that he’d had that exact vision- in their bed against the sheets, in the fields under the glow of the Harvest Star, in the kitchen beneath the blades of the fan- and so many of the times he only wished for the chance to catch that moment again- trekking across the Green with his mining team, lying in a tent and hoping that the filtration system wouldn’t conk out while he slept, those few minutes spent leaning against a moss eaten tree before Cee had reappeared to rescue him. 

None of those memories or imaginings held a flame to the real thing though- her dark brown hair struck through with the honeyed highlights that cropped up every harvest season, a few more grays than he remembered muting the color only enough to pick up a hint of pink from the Thulian powder that wouldn’t be completely rinsed out for at least a week after the close of the season no matter how many times she washed it. The scent of it, of her, rushed to his head in dizzy waves. The air left his lungs in a more forceful rush this time as he brought his lips closer to kiss the crown of her head, resting them there as tears bit at the inner corners of his eyes. 

Stars and Kevva damned satellites, I am really here with you, Huckleberry. 

He kissed her again, lips hardly brushing her skin as though she would vanish, the whole moment shattering to pieces if she woke up. The blunt soreness he felt as soon as he opened his eyes was still present, sharpening with every neglected request for movement that his bones begged for. He desperately needed to stretch, to relieve the pressure in his chest, to get inside, take something for the pain and fall back to sleep under the weight of time-release pharmaceuticals. Instead, he buried his lips deeper in her hair and pressed them there again. My Clara. 

“Welcome home, Ezra.” 

Her words from just a few hours earlier rang and echoed like bells through his brain. Home. His heart drummed out the single syllable, each beat bringing forth a barrage of images behind his eyes. Home. Twirling Clara in the kitchen after dinner, soapy water flying from her hands as he unexpectedly caught her up in his arms to pull her away from the sink, dishes forgotten in lieu of their impromptu waltz. Home. Swearing up a storm as he swatted smoke from the stove-top, Clara’s stifled laughter from the hallway nullifying the fact that he’d burned her birthday dinner and intensifying his need to satisfy her in another way. Home. The two of them sprawled in the grass beneath the needlepointed night sky after the farm went quiet for the season, silver moonlight on the fields and on her skin. Home. Holding her when she cried, ducking when she threw a balled up sock at him, bringing her a cup of tea when she was sick, sweating as he worked in the fields and not giving a damn because she was right next to him. 

Home. That had been her offer, her invitation, her acceptance of him back into her life and her house and her heart. It was what he wanted, what he had craved yet denied himself of, for five lost years. Ezra had always planned on coming back to Clara once he was done with the things he thought he had to do. But in all of his foolish projections he always saw himself returning to her of his own volition, taking the porch steps two at a time to knock hard and sure on the frame of the screen door with his right fist, a bunch of hyacinths clutched in his left. He saw himself falling to his knees to ask for her forgiveness, rising from them to drop the flowers to the floorboards. He saw himself kissing away tears of happiness from her cheeks as he wrapped her in a tight embrace and told her again and again that he loved her, that he was sorry for all the hurt he had caused her, that he would toil endlessly to ensure that he never brought her an ounce of pain again. 

By choice, not necessity; that was how he always thought he would return to her. He thought she would have more of a choice than she was given as well. Never in the wildest of his intricately woven scenarios had he pictured himself showing up as beaten and physically weakened as he realized now he had become inside. Never had he pictured their reunion at the edge of what could have been his deathbed, never had there been a terrified, orphaned teenaged girl ensnared in the mess. 

Cee had told him the things he said while hardly coherent- bury me by the fields. A sluggish breeze shook the tall grass stalks and he lifted his eyes up to watch them sway. Fuck. 

What kind of peace of mind, what kind of closure, what kind of honorable defeat was that? Even if he was dying, he never imagined he’d do it so ostentatiously. Dramatic and frenzied, gasping like a drowning man stripped down to instinct and survival tactics. He sputtered out the location of the only place he knew he’d be safe whether he made it or not. Home. 

Would she have welcomed him back as graciously if it had gone more according to plan? He thought back to those last few cycles up on the Green, and how quickly his sanguine strategy was unraveling- how he could have, if not should have, conceded the loss the second he and #2 were stranded by the rest of his former crew. He had planned for that trip to be his final one to Bakhroma Green, had selected that team in particular because doing so gave him direct access to the last of the mercenaries that he had tracked down- the last of the men responsible for Seth’s murder. In his mind, that team was his ticket home.  

He had waited until just before they were set to leave the doomed moon to carry out his last premeditated act of violence. With the help of the nameless associate he had hired, Ezra dragged the man out into the thick of the forest and instructed #2 to tie him to a tree. Once secured, Ezra had simply lifted the man’s helmet and tossed it several yards away and out of reach, ensuring that it wouldn't be long before he asphyxiated trying to find oxygen in the toxic atmosphere. He had used throwers and knives and even the strength of his hands to snuff out the other lives he’d taken. Now at the end of his quest for vengeance he just wanted it to be done. Waiting until the man’s face ceased it’s grotesque twitching, until he could no longer hear the wet, asperous sounds of his strangled breaths, until it was clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was dead, Ezra stood there, arms crossed, and waited for a catharsis that never came. Not when the man became a body, not when the body slumped against its restraints, not when #2 nudged the lump tied to the tree with his metallic boot and grunted in Ezra’s direction. 

Instead he felt nothing. No sense of balance restored in the universe, no karmic shift, no change in the way he viewed the world or the way that the holes in his heart continued to widen. With a sigh but not a single word, he turned and started walking back towards camp, #2 in tow. 

He hadn’t expected to be met with the rest of the crew, their pitchforks sharpened and torches lit upon returning to camp. His pre-scripted excuse for why three crewmen went into the woods and only two returned started spilling from his lips, but it was no use. He was quickly struck down and silenced by the butt end of a rifle being jammed into his gut. Before he could get his bearings or try to stand, he felt hands shoving him to the ground as his weapon was removed from its holster.  

The others, it turned out, had already been suspicious of Ezra due to rumors that had been making their way around the Fringe; rumors about a rugged outlaw exacting revenge. When he, #2 and the now-dead man had gone missing, two of the remaining team members followed and witnessed the entire scene. Returning to camp they shared what they had learned, and from there it was an easy turn towards mutiny. 

“M’not gonna kill you,” Sully, the man who led the mission sneered from above as he pressed his filthy boot sole into the air filter clipped to the front of Ezra’s suit. Choking and coughing, Ezra glared up the hexagonal barrel of his own gun, the other man’s finger hovering dangerously near the trigger. “Graylon mighta deserved what you gave ‘im, Kevva, I don’t fuckin’ know. ‘An you did yer part and found us a shitload’a them gems. But I sure as shit ain’t lettin’ you off this damn rock so’s you can do the same ta the rest of us someday.” He spat the words and ground his foot harder against the filter, cutting off Ezra’s clean oxygen as small pieces of mud and debris made their way through the cracks and into his air supply. “Couple’a cycles with a gunked up unit and this mute fuck?” He cocked his head in #2’s direction, the hulking beast letting out a mechanical sounding grunt in an expression of rage. “You’re good at killin’.” He spun Ezra’s pistol around as if to hand it back to him and stepped back, a rush of air filling the sphere of Ezra’s helmet and allowing him to take a breath and feed his oxygen starved brain. “You do it yourself.” 

With that, Sully tossed Ezra’s thrower far into the ferns, the feathery fronds bending and breaking as the heavy gun landed between them with a subdued thump. Another of the crewmen struck him in the stomach with the end of the rifle again. He crumpled to the soft muddy ground as the crew boarded the ship that was meant to be his carriage to closure and took off without him. 

He had wanted it to be over. He was ready to see if there was anything left of the man he once was under the layers of labels he had slapped on himself- killer, schemer, manipulator- or if the caustic nature of those things had left him changed irreparably. But as he watched the gel-fueled jets, the ship shrinking in the sky, he felt the backfire of all his plotting and planning, his hopes left scorched and burned.  

I was such a damned fool.  

But just like when he refused to die quietly, instincts taking over to plead with Cee to return his body to the one place his soul had ever known rest, Ezra refused to take the easy way out as Sully had insinuated. Not while he still drew breath, not while he could still place one foot in front of the other. Ezra would sooner starve or die from dehydration while trying to find another way back to Clara than give up and end things quickly and for good. He hadn’t seen any other teams of miners or mercs since he and his former crew had landed on the Green at least ten cycles ago, but he would rather walk until his legs fell off in search of a way out. 

Luckily, that hadn’t been necessary. Four cycles after being left to fend for themselves, Ezra and #2 crossed paths with Damon. While aurelac was all that his reticent accomplice seemed to care about, Ezra’s search of the floater’s belongings was focused solely on locating the starter for the ship that Ezra had hoped he could use to get back to Central if not all the way back to Kamrea. 

“If I give you the starter you’re just going to kill me,” the thin, gaunt face of his new acquaintance beaded with sweat under the globe of his helmet. 

“That is not necessarily true,” Ezra felt the need to correct the man. Not anymore, not unless I have to, so don’t make me. “Nevertheless, contained within the act of killing is a broad spectrum of technique.” Don’t force my hand.

He had tasted enough blood, carried the things he’d done with him for long enough. He wasn’t looking to add to his list of victims, but he wasn’t going to become one either. He didn’t want to kill Damon; but he knew that he would if it meant surviving for a chance to be with Clara again.  

Of course he hadn’t been able to recover the starter from Damon, because as he soon thereafter learned, he had pawned the responsibility of holding it off on Cee. Alternatively, the man had promised to share the location of a large aurelac deposit guarded by mercs, proposing that they work together to not only get off of the Green Moon but get rich before doing so. Ezra weighed Damon’s words as poisonous particulates drifted in the space between the curved visors of their helmets as #2 continued to root through Damon’s belongings. 

Cocking his head to the side he considered the possibility that dealing with more mercs meant that there could be a repeat situation of what had just occurred; that he could possibly run into someone that knew one of the men he had put down in recompense for Seth or that had heard the rumors that his former crew had heard. He briefly pondered whether or not there could be a bounty on his head amongst the dregs of the Fringe, and yet even though it seemed more likely than not that one of these cases could prove true, he couldn’t see beyond the glimmering hope that dangled like a carrot in front of the gaping maw of disaster. Keeping his eyes on Damon, he sealed his fate with one word.  

“Okay.” 

Though he didn’t speak whatever language it was that Inumon and the husky voiced leader of the mercs that he and Cee had met communicated with, it became clear to him in retrospect that the woman’s immediate seething hatred for him was likely due to her being affected personally by his actions. Perhaps he had killed her cousin or her lover, a sibling, a friend. Maybe she’d even been on the Green when he killed someone close to her. It had to have been something like that, something hateful and sinister like revenge, something as dastardly and dark as the life he had been living for the last five years. Once Cee and Ezra had taken care of the majority of the mercenaries, Inumon could have surrendered. There would have been enough space in the pod for all three of them to get off the moon. Her superior was dead, her crew in tatters. All she had to do was lay down her weapons, and she could have joined them. But she was driven by something deeper, something Ezra could well understand now that he had the luxury of hindsight. 

Damon would rather gamble with his daughter’s life than admit failure. Ezra would rather kill Damon than be killed on the Green. Inumon would rather die trying for revenge. Cee would rather risk missing her chance to leave than leave Ezra behind. The Green Moon forced people to make choices and pick priorities. 

Another stiff breeze came up through the fields, this time sweeping through the porch to bring a current of cool air with it, and Ezra dropped his eyes down as he felt Clara moving closer to his side to seek shelter from it. By some act of divine intervention or simply chance and fate tossing a coin in the air he and Cee had both gotten away. By the sheer grace of the woman beside him, they were safe and provided for. It dawned on him then that the Green Moon had forced Clara to choose, too.   

  “I want you to kiss me, Ezra.” 

It had gone against all of the ground rules that they had set when they began talking about all of the things that lay between them, such intimate and physical interaction when there was still so much to discuss, so much that she was still in the dark about, so many things she only wished she could have told him through the years. They hadn’t even broached the topic of how Cee had ended up with him or what the future held for any of them. Hell, he had only been conscious for four, going on five days now. Surely they both had anticipated a longer period of adjustment, time for the shock to wear off, time to settle into forgiveness and find a new rhythm. 

But she knew what she was doing when she made that request. It was her choice, her risk, her chance. It was her way of showing him that she had already chosen, that no matter what other things came to light- and it all would, Ezra decided that moment that he would cite all of his sins, answer all of her questions, share everything that he thought about and hoped for and missed while he was away from her - that she had thrown her lot in with him, had welcomed him back no matter what that meant. 

Ignoring the pain in his chest, Ezra leaned in and laid another slow kiss to Clara’s temple. I will do everything in my power to ensure you never regret this, Huckleberry. “I promise.” He whispered the last two words against her skin as he brushed his fingers up and down her side. 

It was still dark, not quite morning yet, when he saw the light flick on in the small round window of the barn loft across the fields. Nothing stopped on the farm, not during the harvest season, and Ezra knew that Siggi was rousing the workers so that the very instant the Harvest Star breached the horizon, they would be ready to begin the day’s work. He glanced down at Clara again only to be met with her eyes blinking back up at him, the sky seemingly lightening every time her lids closed and opened.  

“Good morning, Ezra…” she hummed his name in a sleepy smile and he swore the planet stopped spinning on its axis, stopped following its orbit. Oh, my Clara. He took a breath that caused his chest to heave and she placed her hand on it. “How long have you been awake? Why didn’t you wake me-” 

“Only for a spell.” He loosened the arm he had around her as she sat up, pushing hair behind her ear. “Wanted to let you sleep, Huckleberry. I know you have a long day and-” He winced then and couldn’t hide it from her even though he wasn’t trying to, a sharp pain slicing through his chest as he had tried to adjust his position. 

“Ezra!” Her eyebrows flew up and her hands hovered over him, unsure of what to do. “Shit, your medication, you… I didn’t, we missed it last night and-” 

“S’alright, Clara,” he hissed out, eyes clenched as the pain ebbed away slightly. He reached for her and opened his eyes to focus on her fingertip tracing the circular inked lines marking the space between his thumb and pointer finger. “S’my fault.” The pain coursed back through his torso again, his body screaming at him for missing the dose and contorting himself for hours in discomfort, and he grunted out a short breath that caused her already worried eyes to widen. Do better, calm her down. He swallowed hard and scrunched his nose, letting out a slow breath. There. “See, I’m fine.” He smiled at her though the sudden pain that had lanced through him was threatening to come back at any moment. “Just gettin’ too old to sleep all discombobulated like this it seems.” 

“Ezra…” She shook her head, not fully convinced that he was alright. 

“C’mon, Huckleberry.” With extreme difficulty, he rose from the bench, the hot pain slicing through his ribcage and throbbing in his shoulder. Fuck. “I’m sure it’ll go away, soon as I take what I’m supposed to.” He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be free of all pain, he wasn’t sure if he had ripped open some internal wound from the bent over way he’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure if taking medication would do anything or if the searing twinge he felt now was only the beginning of another round of angry infection. All he knew was that he needed to soothe the concern that had overtaken her features, and that the painkillers at the very least wouldn't make it any worse. 

Clara instantly wound her arm beneath his and offered help and support, guiding him toward the door. “I’m sorry, I should have… shouldn’t have let you fall asleep out here. I should have-” 

Another spike of discomfort shot through him but it was more important for him to get his next words out that it was to acknowledge it. He turned his face to catch her eyes with his, noticing the way her breath caught as he did. Good.  “Clara. Please do not apologize for giving me a night that I would not trade for all the riches known to man. Holding you as I slept and beholding you as I woke...I am the wealthiest man alive, and I will not hear you apologize for it.” 

She tightened her grip on him, eyes shining, and he thought he heard her mutter something under her breath as she rose on her toes to press a kiss to the overgrown patchy beard covering his cheek. He’s back. That’s what he thought she said. I am, Huckleberry. He let her lead him up the stairs, let her help him back into bed as the Harvest Star climbed in the sky to bathe the world in peach and pink. I’m back, and I am never leaving you again. 

The pain scorched through his body as he lay back and swallowed the pills she handed him, but it was easily quenched as she dropped her lips to his brow. “I love you, Ezra.” She left the words on his skin and he felt them sink in and spread. She promised that she would be back to check on him later in the afternoon, that she would only be doing another half day in the fields and then she would be free to spend more time with him, talking about anything that they needed to. 

He blinked a few times, the medication combined with the lack of good rest taking him under, but focused on what she’d said. 

I love you, Ezra. I love you, Ezra. I love you, Ezra. 

“Love you... to the moon ‘an back, Clara.” His eyes were already closed and he could hear himself slurring out the words, but he also heard her intake of breath and knew that she had heard him clearly enough. And I’m back.

  --  --  --  --  --  --  --  --  

“Boss?” Siggi’s inquisitive tone cut through the steady swish and thwack of her sickle slicing through Thulian, and Clara looked up to see him standing only a few feet away. With one hand shielding his eyes from the unrelenting brightness of harvest noon, he motioned with the other hand for her to step out of the stalks and into the row. 

Hmm, wonder what’s up. Clara waved back, then held up one gloved finger to indicate that she would be right there. He nodded and she attached the sickle to her belt, then bent to collect the puffy heads of pollen that she had harvested. Yawning under the bandana that covered her mouth, she bundled the pollen between her hands and smiled to herself. I am going to be exhausted tonight but it… I don’t care… She stood and shot a glance back towards the house, her heart flipping in her chest, an acrobatic move she wasn’t sure it still knew how to pull off as her eyes raked over the bench where she and Ezra had spent the night wrapped in each other for the first time in far too long, over the railing where she’d been standing when she caved in and asked him to kiss her- when he’d caved and done as she asked. Oh, Ezra… you really are back. 

She knew it was dangerous, that they had broken their rules, that they could still get hurt. But it was Ezra, and she had always broken the rules for him. And I always will.   

Once she reached the edge of the row where Siggi waited, Clara dropped her bundle of Thulian in one of the large collection bins that had been set up intermittently along the walkways between the stalks, then brushed her hands off on her shorts and yanked the triangular cloth down from over her mouth and nose to greet her most senior farm hand with a grin. “Hey, Sig, everything alright?” 

“With the harvest?” He spread one arm wide to indicate the fields, then nodded vigorously. “Yeah, absolutely, boss, going great actually. That new kid you hired this season’s really pullin’ his weight, seems to really enjoy it, too. Looks like we might have a repeat offender on our hands with that one.” 

“Like someone else I used to know.” She swatted his arm and he let out a jovial laugh. “Well good, I’m glad to hear it. We gonna be clear before the rains come through?”

He nodded again, eyebrows gathered seriously. “Oh, with time to spare, I think. ‘Specially if Runa brings her brothers by to help up with the last few rows.” 

“She’s bringing them by? She doesn’t have to, not if we’re so far ahead.” 

“No, trust me, I’m sure her mom is happy to get them out of the house for a few hours now that school’s out for Harvest break.” He chuckled and Clara chimed in, laughing along with him. “‘Sides, she said she wanted to drop off some things for Cee? Hand-me-downs I guess.” He laughed again, gripping the back of his neck. “She’s actually really happy to be able to give’m to somebody that needs them.” 

It didn’t surprise Clara to hear that Runa was genuinely happy to be able to help, because she was, like her soon to be husband, extremely kind and warm. “Well I’m sure Cee will be just as happy. And we’ll find work for the boys, for sure.” She smiled at him and she could tell that he hadn’t called her over here just to tell her how great the harvest was going. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about? Something you needed to-” 

“Not...not really, Clara, I just…” he sighed and the hand he had on the back of his neck slid up to rub pink powder into his sweaty curls. “I just wanted to...to check in with you, boss. You know… make sure that you’re... “ he sighed again and closed his eyes. “Look, Clara, I just… I remember what it was like when you… while Ezra was gone, and I know it’s… a lot, having him back. I just wanted to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself, too. That you’re being careful and... “ he trailed off and kicked at the dirt. 

“Sig…” her voice cracked as she tilted her head. “Thank you.” She reached across and grabbed his wrist, squeezing lightly. “You were there for me when Ezra left. And you… Kevva, Siggi, you kept this farm running, you know that?” She smiled, tired, happy, grateful tears sliding down her cheeks. “Shit, how many times am I going to cry this week?” She laughed and he smiled as she swiped the droplets from her cheek. “I appreciate you so much. Ezra and I...we… you’re right, it is a lot.” It is. And a lot could still happen. “But we’re going to figure it all out.” 

He nodded and smiled, and she wondered if he was still trying to determine whether or not she was handling Ezra’s return and all the scars that were being scraped open and resewn as a result of it. I’m alright, Sig. 

He regarded her for a few more beats, then cocked his head to the side. “‘Long as you’re good, boss, I’m good.” He picked up his bandana and drew it up over his nose again. “Why don’t you pack it in for the day, huh? Get on back up to the house.” He jutted his chin out towards the walkway. “Let us finish up out here. I’m sure you’ve got some important things to take care of.” He winked. “Besides, I know it’s none of my business, but I thought I saw a porch light on pretty late last night. I’m sure you’re… tired.” 

I fell asleep with Ezra and woke up with him holding me. I kissed him. He kissed me. I told him that I loved him and he said it too and he’s back. I’m not tired, I could fly. 

She yawned though, her actions making a liar of her thoughts, and she agreed, thanking Siggi again using only two words but knowing that he heard all of the others. Heading back up into the house, she stretched and let her mind wander to the shower she was going to take, the warm water heating her muscles and relaxing her. Maybe I’ll even catch a few hours of a nap, too, as long as Cee and Ezra are alright and-

“Clara?” Cee came down the stairs as the screen door banged closed, but her voice was completely devoid of worry so Clara let out the breath she hadn’t realized that she sucked in. “Is that you- oh, hi.” She hopped down off the last step and Abe came flying down to zoom between her legs and circle Clara’s. 

“Hi,” she smiled at the girl and bent down to scratch Abe’s head. “Everything okay up there?” 

Cee looked back over her shoulder at the staircase and nodded. “Yeah, fine, it’s- he’s been sleeping all morning so I’ve just been reading and…” She was fidgeting with the dial on her chronometer, one foot wiggling, seemingly without her recognition. What are you nervous about, Cee? You don’t have to be- “Clara? Can we…” she let her tongue out to wet her lips. “On the day that you drove me- us- here, you said that when I was ready to tell you how…” She creased her forehead, mouth twitching to the side. “Can we talk now? About…” she glanced back up at the stairs again. “About everything?” 

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