#flor did most of the work here. but i hope you see our point

[aecu]

Kinda wanna tie karina up place flowers in her hair and display her like my own little masterpiece. Would be so obedient not moving an inch unless u tell her to do so. Would be so proud to be nothing than a pretty doll too, too pretty to touch, even with her writhing from the friction of the rope against her body, pretty baby desperately trying to hide her small whimpers, every time ur fingertips come in contact with her skin. Sadly this display of desperation is not enough to make you want to touch her. No need to give in yet bcuz where’s the fun in that. Sweet angel’s so desperate to please even when she’s this close to tears, wanting to be touched so bad :(( poor baby has to be quiet tho or else you wont lay so much as a finger on her. IM GBA LOSE MY MIND NEED TO TALK ANT HERRR SHE NEEDS TO BE LOVERD AND CATERED TO BUT WHAT I WOULDNT DO TO MAKE HER CRYY /92&@/@102&2!

-🍰

okay first of all, i sent this ask to flor because she always gives me good ideas and she came out with this (WHICH IS INSANE).

but this is very much giving dollification w/ rina.. dressing her up pretty just so you can tease her and slowly watch her crumble. i would love to see her start off looking so perfect, not a hair out of place, and then eventually being reduced to tears because she needs you so bad :(

[maybe-theres-hope]

Of Will and Wildflowers, Part 3 (Final)

It’s here! Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me: @oquinn53, @reyeslonestar, @howtosingit, @a-l-ias, @mtnofgrace, @descending-into-the-crazies @pragmaticoptimist34 if I forgot anyone please let me know! 

Special thanks to my husband for reading this and making sure all my typos were gone :)

Tarlos | period drama/grudging acquaintances to lovers | Part 3/3 | This part: 10,877w | Total: 33,427w

Part 1 | Part 2

Read on AO3

Mr. Strand,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that your journey home was swift and uneventful. The entire house has been mourning yours and father’s departure since you left us. Mamà is convinced the lights are dimmer without the ambience of your father’s amusing anecdotes. 

Elena has been lamenting the fullness of the house as well. She is easily bored without some new distraction every fortnight, but she swears she will convince you to visit again someday. I dare say we all will thank her if she can manage it.

In deference to our conversation, I will not try. I know you would not appreciate my needling. 

Raquel cannot be bothered with the mundane occurrence of the comings and goings of visitors while she daydreams of castles and knights, so her opinion has not been asked. She still insists on helping Mrs. Smith in the kitchen, and Mamà still insists on having fits about it. 

I must agree with my sister and mother, however. The house is a little less bright these days. Usually we can count upon sunlight and laughter to get us through the day, but those seem fleeting of late. 

Flor misses you as well. She’s ornery when I ride her, as if she remembers a more beloved companion and I do not measure up. We lament your departure together when we meander the grounds. 

Jimena is not often in the stable, so her opinion has not been ascertained either. 

But enough of our melancholy!

How is it to be home? Travel can make us all weary, and you seemed so tired even before you set off. I hope you are feeling better in your own comfortable surroundings. Texas will always welcome you, but I know how good it is to feel your own dirt under your shoes. Please tell me something joyful, so that I can remember your face in gladness.

Your friend,

Christina Reyes

My dear friend,

As I sit beside the fire tonight, I am reminded of our last conversation. I am evermore grateful that you are taking on the no doubt immense burden of being my confidant while keeping our correspondence regarding these matters private from your family. Do not mistake me, if you at any time feel as though your obligation to me is taking precedent over your cherished feelings of love toward your family, please by all means give me but a word and I will cease my incessant pining.

Oh how I pine, dear Christina. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of the sound of rolling grass and smell wildflowers where there are none to be found. The city is bleak these days, and dark. What once was a welcome cacophony of life and commerce is now to me a teeming mass of sensation that I can barely stand for more than a moment. I long to feel the shift of earth under Flor’s hooves again, and for the caress of the soft breeze against my cheeks. 

But enough of that for now. You asked in your letter for something joyful. My father has secured a deal with a contractor out West, and his—our line will stretch right to the Pacific, culminating at the coast. A fully developed coast to coast line, my father’s dream. It makes me so happy to see him so elated when he talks of it, and of me taking over it in time. I do not like to talk of him being gone, but it is inevitable he says. Men grow old, and pass on. He says what matters most is that we make a mark on the world we can be proud of, and that we touch people in ways that matter. 

I cannot help but think that I have done neither. 

I apologize again for my melancholy. When I sit to write to you I never intend to make you sad. Please, rejoice for my father and his accomplishments, for they reflect on me as well. I will take comfort in his happiness, and you can take comfort in my feeling it. That is enough for now. 

Your friend,

TK Strand

TK,

I must address the most pressing concern from your letter immediately. You have touched us all, please know that. Please do not think you have not made a mark on the world, for our home would not have been the bright happy place it was while you were here without you to provide that light. Every day is a little darker, as I’ve said before, without you and your father in our midst. 

Everyone is a little darker. Especially my brot

But enough of melancholy, as you said. I am delighted to hear of your father’s immense accomplishment. We are all so proud to be a part of it, a part of the future. I shall like to make the journey coast-to-coast someday on it, to me that would be such a wondrous thing! 

I was wondering, would you tell me what Manhattan is like? I do admit I’ve only ever thought of it as bleak and loud and harsh, but surely folk as amiable as yourself and your father cannot come from such harshness. So please, tell me an anecdote of your days since you’ve returned. I’d love to hear of anything joyful. It would provide a balm to the monotony of country life. 

Thinking of you always,

Christina Reyes

Dearest Christina,

Thank you for saying such kind things. I’ve always felt as if I were on the periphery of life. I’ve skated through it mostly by way of parties and luncheons with people who have little to talk about other than themselves. I’m just now getting to a point in my life where I do want to make a mark on the world. I know I can do that partially when I inherit my father’s legacy, and I intend to do it the utmost justice. But I find myself adrift in that I do have family and friends who love me, however…I do not have a love that speaks my heart’s language. A love that is built of trust and companionship and intimacy. 

Please do not chide me for saying such things, we are friends and I feel I can talk about these delicate subjects with dignity. I thank you for your discretion. 

But yes, as it stands, I have made no such mark on the world, have no such intimacy with which to grow old. I feel that the things we do in life do have a way of defining us, but they are far overshadowed by the people we choose to love. 

In the past, I have chosen poorly, through no one’s fault but my own. I hope one day I can remedy that. But right now I feel, as I said, adrift. There is no one to hold me fast to the world, no one strive to do well for, after my father is gone. And I fear I may never have, as I have ceased looking. I cannot bear it at this moment. 

Forgive me, my dearest friend, I have ignored your other request until now. Manhattan is much as it always is, loud and harsh, as you said. But most days it is a good distraction to hear the hustle and bustle outside my window. I do miss the Park and the promenade, but  lately I haven’t felt well enough to venture out. I keep to my father’s study in our townhouse in Midtown while he visits the office near Gramercy and keeps me informed. 

As I haven’t got a joyful anecdote from the days since our return, I will relate to you one from the past that is near and dear to my heart. When I was a young boy of about ten, my mother��God rest her soul—took me to the waterfront one day when my father was stolen from us with work. We gazed out over the Hudson, and even in my young age I tried to imagine that, just across the water, began the vastness of the North American continent. I used to try and picture what the land was like, what exotic treasures it held. I had never been anywhere, though my father had been to Chicago and Philadelphia numerous times. 

I used to picture rolling hills, vast grasslands, and roaming livestock. I had been told most of the rest of the States consisted of farmland. I had never actually seen a bovine in person, but I had seen drawings. I childishly thought of it as one big zoo where all the animals roamed free, and the air always smelled crisp and clean. I imagined it was beautiful.

Funny thing is, I know now that that little boy of ten was at least partially right, at least about one particular place among that vastness. 

I hope I have made you joyous,

TK Strand

My dear friend,

Your letter has made me joyous, in some ways. I wish you could have seen our home with childlike eyes, but alas I think it was better suited to you as you are now, and I’m glad you have experienced it and that it was to your liking. It truly means the world that you think of it as beautiful.

However, I have cause for concern where you have mentioned you have not been out, that you are unwell. Pray, please let me know how you get on, we all worry over you so. I happened to mention that excerpt of your letter at dinner, and I fear I may have incited a frenzy. I am humbly asked by my siblings to enquire after your health. Please tell us what ails you, so we can worry properly, and send up our prayers. I know we cannot do a thing for you, as far apart as we are now, but you are always in our hearts. 

Mamà tells us that our business with your father is nearly finalized. I look forward to a ride on the line, hopefully with you as my guide. I must make the journey near winter, for I long to see snow. I’ve hitherto only read about it in books, a delicate powder that falls from the sky and blankets the world in white. How marvelous a sight must it be! 

Be well,

Christina Reyes

Dear Christina,

As for your family, please tell them I am alright. I did not wish to frighten them or you, and I’m sorry for that. Please trust that our cook keeps me well with sandwiches and fruits when I am able to eat them. Everything is well when father is around to take up my time with business discussion, and as I said I am well distracted most days by the cacophony of the city outside. 

I will venture out soon, I think, as my friends and acquaintances grow weary of my absence and I have left them all to their own devices for quite long enough, I suspect. I presume to know what they will want to discuss—an incident that took place just before our trip to Texas—it will be a drain on me to talk about it regardless. But I cannot put them off forever, I love them too much to deny them my company when they wish for it. Perhaps I’ll take a walk with one of them tomorrow, even if the air of the city is not nearly so keen and invigorating as the air of the country I have run from.

Please give my best to your family, I hope I have not caused anyone undue grief. I will only talk of happy things from here on out, when I eventually find them. 

With affection,

TK Strand

P.S. I believe you know deep down what truly ails me, so I’ll not speak of it further lest I lose all dignity. 

*

Mr. Michaels, the butler, stopped TK on his way to the dining room, handing him a card on a tray. He read it and smiled. “Miss Marwani called on you earlier, I told her you hadn’t yet come down. She left her card.”

“Thank you, Michaels. Will you send her a message that I’ll be free after luncheon today? I know it’s been so very long since I’ve made time to see her.”

“Yes, my lord. I dare say all your friends and acquaintances have been calling on us nonstop since your return home. But I trust it’ll take you a moment to get back into the swing of things after…your trip.” 

TK smiled sadly. He knew what the butler was going to say before amending it. He’d been an absolute wreck after finding Alexander and the footman and had left for Texas only two days later. The entirety of the household and all of his friends must think he’s still in a melancholy state because of the slight. 

If only they knew the truth. He might tell some of them, but only a select few he could trust. Michaels was a good man, and hadn’t overstepped. He’d practically raised TK since his father was so busy with the rail when he was younger. He knew the man was only looking out for his happiness. 

“Michaels?” he said before turning to go on to the dining room for breakfast.

“Yes, my lord?”

“If you were faced with a time limit on a decision that governed your whole life, would you wait until you’d found the right solution? Or would you take the first viable solution to come along?”

TK knew that Michaels knew exactly what he was talking about, but was too polite to call attention to that fact. “I think if it were me, I’d examine every detail of each choice before deciding on the one most beneficial to my life in the long run. After all, some decisions are for a lifetime.” With this, he gave a small reproachful smile to his once young charge.

“Yes, well. What would you do if you’d found the right solution, but it turned out to be impossible?” TK’s eyes looked up in earnest at the butler, whose expression had turned kind and commiserating.

“I do hope you don’t think you’d found the right solution to this problem just before your departure?” It was obvious Michaels thought Alexander was far below TK even before the scandalous tryst was revealed. 

“No, no. Nothing like that,” TK reassured. He was pensive for a moment, caught in his thoughts of rolling pasture and wildflowers, their scent dancing across his senses even from miles away. “I thought I had found the right avenue during my time away. It seemed a nice thing, a wonderful thing actually. I daresay my hopes were quite built up for a time. But in the end it proved, as I said, impossible.”

Michaels gazed at his young master for a moment, unmistakable pity in his eyes, but TK didn’t comment on it. He was too miserable. 

“I hold the utmost confidence that the right choice is out there for you. But, my lord, you will never find it unless you leave this house eventually. I am glad you’ve decided to start breakfasting in the dining room again, and I know that if you do go out later today your color might begin to return. I worry for you, my lord. I hope I am not impertinent to say so.”

“No, no Michaels. You’re not impertinent. I know I’ve been ghastly to be around these last few weeks, and I do hope to remedy that. To begin…moving toward the future, no matter how much I wish I knew its contents.” TK gave the butler a sad smile before turning away again, the weight of all he wished for still on his shoulders and bright, luminous brown eyes on his mind, no matter how much he wished they’d fade.

*

“I know you’re still mourning Alexander and his licentious ways, but I promise you, you can do much better. His family isn’t even that well connected! He’ll be a faint stain on your past and nothing more.”

TK looked over at his friend, the navy ribbon on her silk evening bonnet getting caught by the light breeze weaving through the Park. Her dark eyes held an intense shine as they often did when she went on a tirade. He let himself smile at her ability to be both vicious and diplomatic.

“Marjan,” he chided gently, “his family owns three quarters of the orange trees in the country! I wouldn’t say he’s not well connected. Half of Florida bears his family name in some capacity.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” she spit delicately. TK was also impressed by her proficiency in cursing with a velvet tongue. “Then he should be sent off to oversee them. Rid this city of his stupidity. Even further! Florida is too close, send him to the West Coast! Let him disappear. Society will be all the better for it, mark my words."

TK was brought up short by the mere mention of the opposite coast, since thoughts of that region gave in to thoughts of a certain eligible bachelor which gave in to thoughts of his intended that TK desperately wished was his own intended and—

It must have shown on his face.

“TK, my friend, trust me. He is nothing of consequence.” Her voice had turned gentle again, not the outrage on his behalf she’d been spouting for the past few minutes. TK could not help connecting her statement with his thoughts, even if she was off the mark at the moment. 

“I know that. It’s not him that unsettles me; he is firmly in my past and I shall not revisit my temporary lapse of judgement in giving him even a small parcel of my affection.” He patted her hand that rested in the crook of his arm as they walked leisurely around a small fountain, the sound of bubbling water serving to soothe his psyche for the time being.

She was silent for a moment before she tugged them to a pause on a semi-crowded knoll. “Then, pray tell, what has you so blue? Ever since you returned from the South you’ve been distant. I thought at first it was just lethargy left over from the long journey, but it has been over two months! I fear I shall never see you smile again as before. Please tell me what troubles you? Is it your father?”

Marjan was a close friend, and as such, she was privy to some news about his father’s health. The man wasn’t in immediate danger, but TK had confided in Marjan that his father had taken to being more…forceful in his demands that TK take a more active role in the business. He had a persistent cough but no fever as of yet. The doctors did what they could to alleviate the annoying ailment—as his father called it—but they all knew Owen Strand was beginning the downslope of his life. At nearly fifty years of age, he was nearing the last stretch of life expectancy and sometimes TK could see it plain on his father’s face. It made him apprehensive for the future, not to mention the fact that still stood: he had to marry before he could take over the business. 

And that thought brought him back around to his other melancholy. For if the desired recipient of his affection would return said affection, he’d be happily married yesterday. But alas, it was not to be. 

He dreaded a letter from Christina detailing an engagement. He knew it was coming soon, and he’d tried to resign himself to it. Perhaps she wouldn’t even tell him. After all, he’d asked as much of her. Nothing of Carlos, none at all; that had been his request. 

“It is, partially, my father’s health that concerns me,” he said as he came out of his thoughts and back into the conversation at hand. “However I…”

“What is it?” Marjan asked when he refused to speak further after trailing off into silence. “What makes your heart ache so? I can see it in your eyes that it is your heart that is broken. If it was not Alexander, then who?”

Trust Marjan to read him like a book. 

“I met someone. In Texas. Oh, Marjan—“ he paused a moment and could not help a smile crawling across his features at the thought of his week spent in bliss, before it all came crumbling down. “He is the most wonderful, kind, and beautiful creature I have ever met. At first I thought him a cad, as our first meeting was less than cordial. But upon learning why he felt as he did, I was persuaded to understand and to admire his candor. He spoke of his home with love and deference, and it was such a treasure to be shown the land with such a companion.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the apple orchard. Marjan caught his flush and smiled.

“And so? When shall we expect an announcement?”

TK’s smile quickly dimmed to a grimace, now tasked with completing the story.

“An announcement will not come, I’m afraid. He is betrothed to another. I found out on our second to last night in Austin, and I must confess I did not handle it well. I made a complete fool of myself and I’d like to never repeat it by seeing him again.”

“Wait, he did not tell you he was spoken for? And he courted you just the same and let you think you had a chance?” Her voice was angry and TK sought to soothe it with the truth.

“Truthfully, he never actually courted me. We were thrust together by circumstance, and he was a perfect gentleman throughout. It was I who read too much into each interaction, each conversation, each dance held in his arms. It was I who was a complete fool to let my feelings show on my face to all his family when they all knew nothing would ever come of it. I feel so stupid, Marjan. I practically begged father to cut the trip short. But…” he paused again, thinking of the dust kicking up behind Jimena’s hooves as Carlos rode out to meet their carriage after they’d already set off. The small bud of Indian Paintbrush was still blooming in a jar of water next to his bed. 

“But?” She prompted. 

“There were some moments where…where I could swear that he…but it was obviously a trick of my imagination. His betrothed is a marvelous gentleman, beloved by all, and he would be a fool not to accept an eventual proposal. As I said, it is well and truly over and out of the question that my pursuit would yield any happiness.” 

Marjan was silent while they resumed their walk, her hand steady in the crook of his arm. Eventually, she spoke softly. “Well, I must admit I am glad this melancholy is not on Alexander’s account, but I also must admit I am saddened by this turn of events. I know you to be a perfect gentleman, and I have always wished you could find someone as wonderful as you to share your life with. I know you’ll do great things and I know you want someone to share those triumphs with. If this man is who you feel is perfect for you, why not fight for him? It is not in your nature to give up so easily.”

“That’s just it, Marjan. He is perfect, and honorable. Which is why I could not jeopardize his honor by asking him to abandon a promise he made before he met me. I would never forgive myself if his good name was tarnished.”

They walked in silence until the end of the lane, where they turned to leave the Park and hail a carriage back to Marjan’s home up the avenue. 

*

When TK returned home later in the evening, Michaels stopped him in the entryway and held out a tray. “This came for you while you were out, my lord.”

TK took the proffered package and stared at it in confusion. The return address from from Christina, but usually all she sent were letters. This parcel was still small, the shape of a single letter, but thicker. It weighed little, giving no clue as to its contents.

“Thank you, Michaels. Is dinner set already? Do I have time to change?”

“You should, my lord. I shall call for you in about half an hour. Your father is in the parlor already, if you wish to check in with him, now you’re home.”

“Was he missing me? Did he need something?” TK wondered, a little worried. 

Michaels smiled. “No, my lord. He was actually quite content all day, and was happy that you’d gone to call on Miss Marwani. I only say to check in because he probably hopes to hear how happy a time you had.”

TK smiled sadly. He knew he was worrying his father with his refusal to leave his own rooms for the past weeks. It saddened him further that he could have possibly made his father’s condition worse by stressing him. He vowed to himself to make a better effort to get back into real life sooner rather than later. After all, as he’d told Marjan earlier, there was nothing to be done about…Mr. Reyes. That was well and truly over, in fact it had never begun. There was no reason to pine after a man who did not do the same for him. TK was worth more than that.

Yes, he must convince himself of that, and quickly. 

“Alright, Michaels. I’ll change quickly and meet him. Thank you,” he said with a small nod. Turning to ascend the stairs, he started to unwrap the small, delicate parcel Christina had sent. As he entered his rooms, his efforts revealed that there was, in fact, a letter inside. However it was nestled atop a small folded square of cloth, delicate and airy and fine. 

Setting the letter aside for the moment, he unfolded the fabric to reveal that it was a handkerchief, finely made and embroidered in bright colored thread. The edges were a gleaming yellow, reminding him of sunlight. On one corner, no bigger than his thumb, was the most intricate rendition of a yellow wildflower—he recognized it almost instantly. 

He moved to sit on the nearest surface, which happened to be the edge of his bed. The pads of his fingers caressed the tiny design reverently, as if touching it would somehow unravel all the thread that comprised it. As if by acknowledging that it was there, it was already in danger of disappearing. There was no doubt of the reference used—he had seen so many of those little yellow blossoms on his journey around the Reyes ranch. The breath left his body as his mind’s eye conjured a bright smile and the smell of clean sweetness on the air. 

After he’d regained some of his composure, he picked up the letter. It was shorter than most of her other letters, which stood to reason as he’d just received her last one a few days ago and he’d yet to answer it. She must have sent this just behind her previous one. 

Beloved TK,

I hope you are well. I know I have just posted a letter to you two days ago, but I saw this in a shop window and immediately thought of you. I know how you enjoyed the wildflowers around our home, and I wished for you to have a reminder of them—especially one less prone to wilting than the genuine article. 

You are always in my our thoughts, and I wished to keep us in yours. Please, think of Austin when you hold this token, and know that you are so dearly missed. 

Yours in heart,

Christina Reyes

TK stared. It seemed as though the letter had been written in some sort of haste, as it was unusual for Christina’s hand. The letters were slightly more slanted, and the spaces between paragraphs larger than her delicate way. Even her signature was off, as if it had been written by a proxy. And the contents…she’d never called him a beloved friend before. Well, no, it wasn’t even friend. It was just “beloved”. 

He wondered if she was growing melancholy herself for some unknown reason. The letter seemed sincere, but heavier than her usual correspondence, as if she was feeling his absence more acutely in this instance. 

Furthermore, he wasn’t sure he’d told her about what the wildflowers meant to him. He’d thought that was something he and Mr. Reyes had shared between themselves for the short time they’d been acquainted. But perhaps her brother had recited a few of their outings to her, and remarked on TK’s fascination with the surrounding flora of the country. 

Perhaps. 

He concluded that the whole parcel was a product of a hastily made decision when she’d seen the handkerchief in the window, and the oddities contained within the letter were the result of her haste to get it posted while she was still in town that same day. 

He gently tucked the gift into a box next to his bed, giving it one last longing stare before closing the lid and beginning to dress for dinner. 

*

“We’ve had a letter from the Doña,” his father said over luncheon a few days later as he perused said letter which Michaels had handed to him upon their arrival in the dining room. “It seems her agent agrees to our terms, and they are sending a liaison with the documents to finalize.” He set the page down on the table and picked up his glass of port. “I do believe we are almost settled with the entirety of the preparations, and we can begin construction early next year!”

“That’s wonderful news, father,” TK said quietly, his tone not matching his words. He was looking down at his plate with no intention of picking up his fork, so he missed his father’s knowing and saddened expression. 

“It is. Another piece of news that I’ve gathered from earlier today, is that the Vanderbilts are throwing a ball tomorrow night. Well, I suppose Mrs. Vanderbilt is, at any rate, and Mr. Strickland asks if you can accompany him.”

“I don’t know, father. I’m not sure I’m feeling well enough to socialize on such a scale. I’ll be a bore to everyone there and then you will have to answer for my behavior.” 

“I don’t think you’d be a bore to Mr. Strickland, surely. He’s been asking after you these last few weeks. I daresay he plans to eventually kidnap you from your rooms if you do not answer his calls. Surely he’ll want to hear how you’re getting on?” His father’s transparency was apparent, but TK did not call him out on it. 

“I don’t know, father. I’m not quite well at the moment so I probably shouldn’t be gallivanting about at parties.”

“You are unwell because you refuse to eat or see sunlight,” Owen said, not unkindly. His next words were suffused with affection and it only made TK’s heart ache more. “My son, I worry for you. The whole household does. Mrs. Talbot says you only ate half the small sandwich she brought you last night. And you haven’t touched your soup yet since we’ve sat down. I worry you’ll be skin and bones before long.” His words weren’t scolding, only concerned.

“I’m sorry to worry you, father, and the servants. I just find it…difficult to keep anything down. It all tastes like ash, and I know that description would never do Mrs. Talbot’s cooking justice.” At this, he made a gamely attempt to sip a spoonful of soup, and found his assessments confirmed. He swallowed anyway, and kept the grimace off his face with great effort. 

“Tyler,” his father said in that affectionate tone once more, “You must try to move past your heartbreak. I know that’s what it is,” he said as TK made to interrupt him, “I know it when I look at your face and see only sadness. I know it when I hear from Michaels that you have not descended the stairs all day while I’ve been at the office. I know it because that single flower is still thriving at your bedside.” At this, he had the decency to look only slightly chagrined. TK said nothing.

“I looked in on you a few nights ago. You didn’t come down to dinner and I was worried you’d gone hungry again. Your sleep looked restless. I also noticed a letter from Miss Christina.”

“You went through my things?” TK said without any real malice. He knew his father meant well but he had put a lot of private thoughts into those letters and Christina had answered them in kind. 

“I only ascertained that she wishes to see snow. You should take her up on her request to ride the line once it is finished. I know she would love to see you again. And maybe by then, it will be less painful for you.” Owen’s face was drawn. 

“Maybe, in a year or two. For now I am content with her letters.”

“What does she write of her brother?” his father asked.

“Nothing, because I asked her not to,” TK replied. He again missed his father’s pained expression of concern as he took another forced sip of his soup from his spoon. His hand trembled slightly at the most direct mention of Carlos since his talk with Marjan earlier in the week. 

Owen seemed to take this answer as a plea to end the subject of conversation. He simply watched his son silently, wishing he could help ease his pain and knowing he was unable.

*

“Mr. Cartwright has not stopped staring in this direction since we sat down,” Paul remarked over the swell of the music, another quadrille beginning causing cheers and the shuffle of feet to the dance floor. 

“Perhaps he’s trying to figure out a way to ask you to dance,” TK answered as he sipped his brandy. Paul was a dear friend, and he was happy to be in his company, he just wished it didn’t have to be surrounded by laughing couples and a revelry he felt entirely apart from. 

His friend gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? He’s been shamelessly staring at you,” Paul countered. “He’s practically mapped out every thread in your coat, the cad.” 

“I doubt that. No amiable gentleman would give me a second glance as I look now. Maybe a few months ago, but not now. I’m well aware the color in my cheeks and the bulk of my frame have left me. The servants, my father, you, and Marjan remind me every day of that. How could I be any object of desire?”

It had been a full week since his first venture out of the house with Marjan—and nearly three months since his return from Texas—and TK was trying for his friends’ sake to get back out into the world. Hence accepting the invitation to a ball at the home of some debutante or another of their set, with Paul as his moral support should he feel the need to flee the social setting at his earliest convenience. TK was still trying to get used to other people around him being so happy and carefree when he himself wished to crawl into his bed and remain there until the second coming. 

He knew full well that his behavior wasn’t healthy. He’d made the decision himself to try and get past his heartbreak, lest it cripple him forever which definitely could not happen if he wanted to give his father any peace of mind. 

“My friend,” Paul chided kindly, “you’ve always been a vision, sought after by many a connected suitor. You haven’t lost your appeal I can promise you. We harp on your well-being because we care about how you’re feeling on the inside, and the outside is a good testament to that. I dare say it’s made you more desirable, at least to those who’ve mourned your absence since your trip, that you’ve stayed away. It inflates the intrigue.” He gave a small chuckle that TK tried to match. 

“Well I’m afraid Mr. Cartwright will have to find another object of desire. I do not believe I could content anyone as a courting partner as of now. I need a bit more time to settle back in, I think.” That was as diplomatic as TK could be about it. The reality was that he’d still been unable to remove thoughts of Mr. Reyes from his mind, and it grew more difficult every day. He absentmindedly reached into his jacket pocket and rubbed the delicate fabric of the handkerchief between his fingers, feeling the bumps and valleys of the embroidery, and almost smelling the sweet scent of the country in the air. 

He hadn’t noticed he’d closed his eyes until he felt a brush of air next to his face as a reveler approached their table. 

“Hello, Mr. Strand,” Mr. Cartwright beamed. It seemed he’d worked up the courage to approach after all. 

“Good evening. Are you enjoying the festivities?” He answered, attempting cordiality. 

“Of course. And yourself, Mr. Strand? Wouldn’t you better enjoy things in their midst than here on the periphery? Fancy a dance on the next waltz?” The man sounded so eager that TK almost obliged. But his honor would not let him lead the man on. 

“I’m afraid I’ve quite exhausted myself already,” he said, even though all he’d done was make one round and plop himself into his current seat since arriving. “I do apologize for being unavailable, but I’m sure there is someone else dying to catch your hand for a waltz. Please let me do them the favor of leaving you available.” 

It was almost comical the way the man’s face fell, but TK was not in danger of showing any glee at it on his face. He understood far to well the melancholy of unrequited affection. But alas, he could not feign interest at the moment, so he let the man trudge away with only a bit of guilt. 

“He’ll get over it,” he said when he caught Paul’s glance. 

“But will you?” It was clear he wasn’t talking about Mr. Cartwright.

TK didn’t answer. He could not. 

*

The day of the arrival of the Doña’s liaison dawned and once again TK could barely face the sunlight. He wished with all his heart that he could place the blame on too much of the good-natured debauchery that plagued his set when they got into their drinks, but he knew he could not. He’d barely partaken in a full glass of brandy with his father after dinner the night before. 

He felt some guilt at not hurrying down to meet the man at his father’s side, as would be expected of an only son in position to run his father’s business someday, but could barely bring himself to nibble at the scones Mrs. Talbot had sent up the night before.

Sooner or later, however, he knew he must face the day. He finally got himself dressed near luncheon time, deeming his appearance presentable enough for a middle manager he’d never meet again. 

He straightened his collar and pulled his lapels taut just before Michaels announced him upon entering the parlor. As he surveyed the scene before him, his stride halted, all breath left his lungs, and the color drained from his face. 

Seated on the settee across from his father and wearing the most disarmingly beautiful smile, eyes dancing in the sunlight filtering in through the damask curtains, was Carlos Reyes. 

The man had clearly just been given some wonderful news, though TK couldn’t imagine what his own father could have told him to elicit such a response, but it was plain on his face that he’d just been told something truly delightful. However, when his eyes strayed to the entrance to the room upon Michaels announcing TK’s presence, the smile on his face faded slowly to a deep concern. TK didn’t miss the subtle perusal of his person, Carlos looking over his face with a slight furrow of his brow that grew deeper the longer TK stood there dumbfounded. 

Mr. Reyes, of course, was the first to remember his manners, though his employment of them seemed over the top to TK. He’d jumped up and nearly ran over to TK, taking his elbow in hand ever so gently as if the touch was nothing. As if it didn’t send TK’s whole world tilting. 

“Mr. Strand! I…please, sit. Should I fetch some water? You look like you’ll be ill any moment…” He sounded almost…afraid. Not disgusted and annoyed as TK thought he might have been upon their next meeting. After all, TK was the one who’d made a fool of himself by pining like an imbecile in front of the Reyes’ family and friends. He could only imagine how much Mr. Reyes regretted their time together, now that he’d had a few months to ponder it. 

“I’m alright, Mr. Reyes, thank you,” TK managed to croak out as the man ushered him to a chair across the room, seemingly careful as not to touch him. 

He must be master of himself! This was almost more embarrassing than what had initially transpired between them in Texas. “I…hadn’t known that you’d be coming as your mother’s agent. I was only…surprised to see you. Here.” He forced his lips to stop moving.

Mr. Reyes’ face had yet to lose it’s pinched brow and shining eyes. What TK had initially catalogued as fear now looked like…concern. But that was impossible. Only, maybe not, since Mr. Reyes was a quite honorable and sensible man, and TK knew he looked gaunt and lifeless on his best days lately.

Turning to look at his father, TK only noticed that he too was focused on Mr. Reyes, and TK couldn’t quite place his expression. He’d been smiling as well when TK entered, and now he seemed a bit subdued but no less mirthful. It was an odd juxtaposition. Just then, he turned to his son and gave him a gentle smile.

“Well, I must be off. Quite a bit to get finalized with the documents you’ve brought me.” He stood and offered a hand to Mr. Reyes. “How long did you say you’d be in the city?”

“A few days, sir. I had hoped…well, my mother wishes me to return with everything in order,” he answered cryptically as they shook. His face was hopeful though TK couldn’t think why. They had pretty well come to a mutually beneficial agreement through correspondence. The rest was simply formality at this point. He couldn’t think what else would need to be settled. 

“I’m sure she does,” Owen said with a smile and another odd look at TK. He could not figure what to make of the exchange, but truth be told he was still reeling from Carlos—Mr. Reyes, he reminded himself—being in his home so unexpectedly. 

His father was turning to him next. “Tyler, would you be a gentleman and show Mr. Reyes about for a bit? I’m sure he’d like to stretch his legs after his long journey. You could take a taxi to the Park?”

TK fought the urge to gape at his father. He expected them to be…alone? What would they even discuss? TK wished the Turkish rug’s threads would open up and sew him into the floor. 

He was however, as his father said, a gentleman, and he could not let his manners slip no matter how much he wished to be anywhere but alone in the confines of a taxi and then in the beautiful intimacy of the Park at dusk with Carlos Reyes. 

“Of course, father. It would be my pleasure.” Somehow the words left his lips without a tremble. Or so he hoped. He did not think his father could be so cruel, knowing TK’s heart. 

Mr. Reyes looked half ecstatic and half terrified. TK could relate whole-heartedly. 

As Owen bid them good night and made to ascend the stairs to his study, TK slowly turned to look at his circumstantial companion. Here they were once again, thrust into each other. TK thought back to that first morning they’d toured the ranch together; Mr. Reyes had been cordial, despite their initial meeting and his own hesitation about the Strand’s business with his family. He’d been courteous and knowledgable about the land, wishing to give TK a good impression which TK in turn appreciated. 

He vowed to himself he would attempt to do the same when showing Mr. Reyes his own home. 

With somewhat renewed countenance, TK took a breath. “Well, shall we, Mr. Reyes?” His voice barely shook. The man in question gave him a fond smile that melted TK’s very soul.

“Lead the way, Mr. Strand.”

*

The taxi ride proved to undo all of TK’s borrowed confidence. Sitting so close their knees brushed reminded him of riding through the apple orchard, which in turn reminded him of Carlos’ hand in his, which set his heart fluttering and mind whirling, which led to an awkward silence the likes of which TK never wanted to experience again. Mr. Reyes was waiting for him to speak, it seemed—as TK was ostensibly his guide in this place unfamiliar to him—and he was thoroughly incapable. All that accompanied them was the clap of the horses’ hooves on the stones and both their nervous breathing. 

When they arrived at the southwest corner of the Central Park, TK paid the driver and slipped out before Mr. Reyes could offer him a hand. He knew not what he would do if he felt that warmth upon his skin again in his current state. The other man looked a bit let down, but TK dismissed it as a trick of his longing imagination. 

They entered and set about the promenade which, even at this time of the evening, was still thronged with late perusers. As they walked among the fresh grass and beautiful tree lined paths, TK did his best to drum up the wherewithal to speak, to offer some manner of conversation lest he seem rude in his silence.

“I suppose it looks rather…artificial to you,” he said quietly. 

Mr. Reyes startled a bit, apparently accustomed to TK’s lack of voice thus far, but he recovered quickly with an eager smile turned to his companion. 

“Not at all! It’s all very…whimsical I think. This beautiful bounty of nature preserved in the middle of all that stone and brick. It’s…peaceful.”

“Yes,” TK thought aloud. “It’s quite serene. The further in you go, the less the city outside of it seems real. The sounds and smog melt away and you just feel…” he trailed off, words failing.

“Like we’re in our own little Eden.” Carlos’ eyes were like pools of shining dark chocolate in the gaslamp light. Sweet and alluring. 

TK could only nod dumbly, and try to look away. He accomplished it with much difficulty. 

They walked in a much softer silence for a time, passing a couple of people TK recognized from parties and balls around the city, but they never stopped to converse with anyone. Mr. Reyes seemed to want to keep his company for himself, which TK could not think what to do about, so he remained passively quiet. 

About half an hour into their journey, his companion spoke. 

“I’ve actually got something I’d like to…well, first there’s something I…I need to tell you.” Carlos’ face was unreadable, but his tone was quiet and reserved. TK’s heart clenched painfully. Carlos had been in an odd countenance since his arrival, and TK could only attribute it to the awkwardness surrounding his ridiculous assumptions about Carlos’ feelings and the utter embarrassment of his departure from Texas. 

“Oh?” was all he said, suddenly breathless with an ache he could barely stand. 

“I’m not sure if you were informed when you last visited, but—” he paused for so long, TK turned to look at him at his side, wondering what halted his speech. His face was still unreadable, but his voice now had a very slight tremble to it. TK tried to keep his own face open, so that Mr. Reyes felt safe to continue. 

“For several years now I have had an...understanding. With a gentleman from California, with whom my family is quite acquainted.”

The vice around TK’s heart clenched cruelly at the reminder. “Yes, Mr. de Castillo. Your mother and sisters—and some of those from the county—told me about him. Quite admired, he is, by all.”

“Yes…” His voice trailed off into silence again, and this time when TK sneaked a look he seemed troubled. TK wished he could put the man’s fears at ease, that if he feared a faux pas in tearing down TK’s feelings that he needn’t worry about it.

But that would have been a lie.

“Yes,” he said again, going on. “We’ve actually been courting these last months, not long after yours and your father’s departure.”

TK took the blow as best he could, with a calm countenance, when really he wished this torturous conversation would end so that he could limp back to his bed and curl up in misery until the second coming. Why on earth did Carlos feel the need to do this? Weren’t they settled in being apart from each other? No more than business acquaintances? 

The thought alone dealt his heart another painful blow. 

“About a month ago he—he called on me to...state his intentions.” His voice sounded flatter than TK would assume from a happily engaged man. Still, he tried to inject some light into his own tone when he answered.

“I am so happy for you, Car—Mr. Reyes,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster which, admittedly, was not very much at all.

However, his tone must have belied his utter devastation because Mr. Reyes abruptly stopped and gently tugged him to the side of the path, so that they would not impede other couples on the promenade. TK almost swooned at the touch.

“I’m sorry?” the other man said, a look of confusion and slight hurt across his beautiful eyes. TK was now confused as well.

“I...I only wish to convey my happiness on your engagement. You must be thrilled to have your future finally settled. Not only must it be a relief, but with such a fine gentleman as I have heard.” Carlos’ hand was still lightly holding onto his upper arm, and though it pained TK in the worst way to do it, he ever so deftly maneuvered his body so that the contact was dropped. 

“I think that...well I...that is…” Carlos was staring at him, that hurt look growing in his brown eyes and TK wanted nothing more than to take it away but he didn’t know how.

“Mr. Strand—TK,” he said so softly that TK could hear his own heart beat in the silence. “I think that you have...misunderstood me.” TK had been staring at a spot over Carlos’ shoulder until then, unable to meet his eyes any longer for fear he’d burst into tears in the middle of Central Park, but at the plea he shifted his watery gaze back to sink into the pools of liquid chocolate in front of him. 

“Mr. de Castillo—Fernando, that is—has proposed marriage to me, it’s true—” In the minuscule pause between these words and the next set, TK felt his heart slow to a stop with the inexorable weight set upon it by this conversation, “—but I have turned him down.”

And at this, that traitorous heart gave one slow, painful beat of hope that TK was powerless to tamp down. 

When he could find his voice, it was to incredulously say, “Whatever for?” 

Carlos reached down to take TK’s hand in his, and TK was sure he was trembling like a sheaf of paper caught in the wind. He brought it between both his hands, brushing the knuckles ever so lightly—so much so that TK was sure he’d imagined it. 

“Because I could not marry a man that I do not love, and I do not love Fernando. No matter how much of a wonderful and kind gentleman he is, and no matter how ashamed and saddened it made me to tell him so. But I cannot betray my own heart.”

TK’s legs were going to give out any moment. He had no other thought in his head but staying upright, using that tentative hold on his hand, still gentle as ever, as his anchor. He dare not let his thoughts follow themselves to any conclusions. 

“The truth is, TK, my heart belongs to another. It has for some time, and I was too stubborn with misplaced loyalty to give it a say. That is, until now. Which is why I imparted the information to you.”

TK kept staring into the man’s eyes, wondering if this was all some dream he’d tumbled into in slumber. He was sure this must be his own mind conjuring the conversation, guilty as it was of yearning for it. 

“I wish to apologize for taking so very long to come to my senses. I always strive to be honorable, and for a time I thought that meant that I must remain true to Fernando. But I’ve been made to realize that my thinking was wrong.” TK could only take the words in stride, adrift as he was on the roaring sea of his emotions. 

The man continued, while TK himself was made to listen to the most illogical combination of words his brain could have come up with in his current state. He was still convinced he was dreaming. Carlos reaching down and taking both his hands did nothing to bring him out of said state. Furthermore, it made him feel as if he was about to float away into the stars, unmoored as he was except for those twin points of contact. 

“You are the most optimistic, brilliant, engaging creature I have ever known. Your smile could light up a room if every candle failed. I find myself riveted any time you’ve got an anecdote to tell, and in these months of not hearing your voice I have conjured it in my dreams more times than I care to admit.

“I wish to spend the rest of my days making you smile and laugh, waking with the morning sunshine just to see how it dapples your face, and admiring you from across the dinner table every single evening for the rest of my life. TK, if I have been mistaken, and you do not return my affections, please stop me from making a further fool of myself.” This he said with a little nervous chuckle that cut straight through TK’s very soul. He looked up through his lashes at TK, nervous. 

TK, in turn, was struck dumb by the confession. Carlos apparently took this as a queue to continue to the most preposterously happy thing that had yet to be uttered in this very winding conversation that had had TK’s heart in knots since it began. 

“Mr. Strand. If I have not been remiss in my assumptions of your affection, I urge you, no I beg you to consider my humble plea. Would you consent to be my husband? It would make me the happiest man in the entire world.”

TK felt himself take in a slow, careful breath. It took several moments for him to find his voice, and then it was only to utter on a half-expelled gasp, “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” was the nearly equally breathless answer.

Again, it was a struggle to find volume behind the utter euphoria that had overtaken him, but soon enough, he pushed the words out in a little more than a whisper, lest he accidentally shout and call undue attention. “Then, yes. Yes!” Tears were already warming his cheeks and chin, but TK didn’t care a wit. He went easily as Carlos embraced him tightly, feeling warmth suffusing his entire body at every place they touched. 

Before long, they had to part, lest they invite accusations of impropriety.

“I…I had thought…well it doesn’t matter now I suppose,” he stammered, thoughts swirling with emotion and unable to tamp them down. Not wanting to. 

“I apologize again for taking so long. Your smile, your face is all I’ve thought about for months. The moment you were gone my heart sank to the deepest depths.”

“Mine as well,” TK admitted. “I have…neglected myself these last few months, I’m afraid. I thought I could learn to forget you in time, but alas…”

“When you entered the parlor, I was distraught to see you looking unwell. Please, I beg of you, please take care of yourself. I don’t know what I would do if…”

“I know. I apologize for my appearance. I did not mean to give you cause for concern.”

Carlos briefly reached up to touch TK’s slightly sunken cheek. “I hope you can forgive me, for it is my silence that has caused you such distress, but I also find myself elated that you feel the same as I do. I can still scarcely believe it.” His voice was rising with happiness, and TK felt drunk on it like the sweetest wine. “I must admit, though, I cannot claim full responsibility for coming to my senses. Christina was quite adamant that I was being an imbecile.”

TK looked down at the ground for a moment. “I…asked her—no, begged her really—not to speak of you in our correspondence.”

“She told me. It’s why I—“ Carlos stopped abruptly, looking chagrined. 

“What is it?” TK asked.

“Well I…I knew you did not want to speak to me, but I just had to…that is I…I sent you…something. I wrote a letter and signed her name to it. She laughed about it later, but she called me an utter fool for not being more courageous about it.

TK halted in the middle of the path. Immediately, he knew. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a delicate fold of linen edged in bright yellow. He held it gently in his fingers, caressing the soft folds that had cemented themselves after so long kept in his pocket. 

Even in the lamplight, he could see Carlos’ face flush slightly. 

“I wanted to court you properly, but circumstances were…well. In the end I was cowardly about it I suppose.” He ducked his head bashfully. 

“I think, deep down, I knew. I didn’t want to let myself believe, but…I’d never spoken to Christina about the wildflowers.” TK’s own voice was reverent. 

“She told me that. When I told her what I’d done, she told me you would see right through it.”

“You called me beloved…”

Carlos looked deep into his eyes. “Yes.”

TK nearly swooned again, new tears dripping down his cheeks which were positively sore with how much he was smiling. He tucked the treasure back into his jacket.

“We’ll have to tell my father, I suppose,” he said after a time, absolutely giddy as they began to walk along the path again, back to the streets toward the Strands’ home. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve already gotten his blessing,” Carlos answered with a smug grin to answer TK’s astonished expression. “That’s what we were talking about earlier today, before you interrupted us.”

“Well, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

“I think I’d like very badly to kiss you, but I’ll hold off. Wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize your good opinion of me, would we?’ His smile was absolutely radiant. TK thought to himself that if this were to be his life, staring at this gorgeous face full of love for all his days, he’d never be unhappy again. 

*

The fire was dying down and Carlos finally moved to take his leave. 

“Must you go?” TK couldn’t quite keep the pout from his voice, but at least now, he did not care too much if Carlos heard it.

“I’ve stayed too long as it is, people will talk,” he answered with an indulgent smile as TK walked him out of the parlor and into the hallway. The servants had long gone to bed, so it was up to TK himself to help Carlos on with his coat. 

“You’re my fiance now,” he said, glowing all the while and unable to help it. “People will have to get used to the fact that I want to be around you every waking moment of the day without pause.”

“Yes, but no one knows that yet and I wouldn’t want to besmirch your good name.” 

“When will I see you again, then?” He slid the overcoat onto broad shoulders, nearly letting his fingers linger a bit too long for propriety.

“I’ll call tomorrow to meet with your father again. We do have actual business to finalize after all. You’ll be there, won’t you?” Now it was Carlos’ turn to pout a bit, and TK was powerless against it. 

“Of course. Well, I’ll say good night.” He looked up into the face of the most beautiful man, the man he was going to spend the rest of his unbelievably happy days with. 

“Good night, my heart,” said Carlos, reaching up a hand to caress TK’s face so gently it caused an aching pang in his heart. Slowly, carefully, he moved his calloused thumb across TK’s lips, back and forth a few times as if trying to memorize the shape of them. TK gave a small shudder.

“My, Mr. Reyes, you’re being very forward.” He couldn’t help smiling. As the man had not removed his hand yet, TK pursed his lips ever so slightly, bestowing a chaste kiss against his thumb.

Carlos chuckled softly, covering an intake of breath. “Now who’s forward?” He was smiling so wide it looked as if it hurt.

“You’re my fiance,” TK answered against the warm skin, the word still feeling like glistening honey in his mouth, “I can be as forward as I like.”

“God in heaven, I want to kiss you.” Carlos looked like he might do it, but restrained himself as a gentleman should. They’d pushed the bounds of propriety enough for one day, TK supposed. Though he would have welcomed it gladly, as clandestine and salacious as it would have been. After a few more strokes, Carlos finally dropped his hand from TK’s face. “This will have to do for now, I suppose.” He took TK’s own hand in his and laid a gentle kiss against his knuckles. 

“But not for long?” 

“No, my heart. Not for long. I won’t be able to do with a long engagement. I will perish before I make it to the church if you make me wait for more than a couple of months.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But my father will want to invite the whole of New York, so you know.” He couldn’t help a roll of his eyes, however fond the gesture was. His father loved a good party, and the marriage of his only son—finally, he would probably say—was sure to prove one for the ages. 

“Ah, yes, and we mustn’t forget the entirety of the county back home, if my mother and Christina have anything to say about it,” Carlos said with another fond chuckle. “You have her to thank, by the way. For getting me out of my head and back on solid ground. My sister is your champion in sickness and in health. That is, until I get to call you my husband.”

TK shuddered again at the mere word. 

“I really should go,” Carlos said again. He made no move toward the door. 

“You really should,” TK prompted. He moved to open the door, and finally they broke their gaze from each other. 

As Carlos stepped out, he turned to smile one last time and it turned TK’s stomach into a whole flock of butterflies. “Good night, dearest. I’ll call on you and your father tomorrow.”

“I will be dying a slow death until that moment breathes me back to life,” TK lamented.

“As will I.”

TK watched him walk away into the night before finally closing the door against the chill of the Manhattan midnight. For several long moments, he simply leaned against the door and caught his breath, giving thanks to all the forces that managed to bring the two of them together so favorably. He’d have to write to Christina the moment he woke in the morning. 

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Reviews: The Town Where Everyone Was Nice! or Scrooge Is the Lindburgh Baby

Saludos Amigos! The Ride of the Three Cablleros has at long last come to the last stop before it’s final phase. It’s been a hell of a ride so far: Our boys have tried to woo some ladies, performed some black magic, had some sort of drug trip, dealt with Donald’s ego, helped goofy ungoofy himself...

“SEASONS CHANGE, TIMES CHANGE BUT UNGOOFY IS FOREVER AND ALWAYS HE IS ALWAYS THERE” ... I created this magificent stalion.. kinda I think he came out of a styigan hole in the universe from the darkest dark in the dark of the dark... I can’t be sure. Our heroes fought an arrogant prince, found a lost city and helped donald get his smile back. All culminating in our heroes going to Spain for some reason, soundtracking Goofy’s win against Horace in Flamico Dancing, somehow that wasn’t a Covid induced fever dream I had but the actual premise of the episode, and then played some soccer with Daisy’s cousin and Pancho Pete. All in all we’ve had some good times getting here and I feel acomplished having made it this far. While I’ve still got quite a ways to go, getting this far means I really made something.. and not just the 80 something dollars it took to comission all of this. And I genuinely just want to thank all of you for reading these as these have easily been some of my most popular reviews and @weirdkev27​ for comissioning all of this. It’s been easily one of my faviorite projects so far and I look forward to the final leg of it soon. For now though we have one last adventure before the biggest one starts.  But before we can dive into it you probably have a few questions, and since I don’t really need to give Ducktales 2017 a lavish introduction as unlike most stuff so far this show is well and familiar: it’s what got me started reviewing animation on this blog, it’s what got me into the duck community as a full member, and it’s what caught Kev’s attention leading to this entire series. So I have time to answer the questions your probably asking and if your not.. well here’s the answers anyway Wait aren’t you going to cover Louie’s Eleven?: Nope. While I love that episode, I already did a full review of it earlier this year.  I saw no reason to completely and utterly redo the entire thing when my opinions toward the episode haven’t really changed. That being said since I didn’t touch on the boys characterizations in that one too much and since I do want this retrospective to be comprehensive, I will talk about Panchito And Jose’s characterization there briefly during this review at the right time as a compromise. 

Wait why isn’t THIS the last stop since it came out AFTER Legend of the Three Cablleros: Simple.. it felt unsatsfying to both me and kev to end on this one. While their apperance here IS a good one and a big deal... it’s also ANOTHER guest apperance. It’s something I didn’t quite realize for now but outside of the movie.. every apperance after is them guest starring in another series. Their aperances in Don Rosa’s Duck Comics, while awesome and treating them with proper respect, were still them showing up to shake up Donald’s stories and formulas. They were LITERAL guest stars in House of Mouse, and Roadster Racers was entirely just “let’s shove them in there because we can”. Legend.. is their story. Their moment in the sun after too damn long with all three as main characters and while being a lead is normal for donald, Jose and Panchito really HAVEN’T had that shot outside of their home countries. To be the hero of their own fully realized epic adventure. So it just fits best to have the road lead there instead of have all that happen.. then go back to yet another guest appearance. The other major factor.. is that while Legend came out around the same time as ducktales, to the point many compared and contrast both shows treatment of Donald, this episode is what most non-latin american audiences saw first as it took Disney WAY too damn long to air the series over here.. i.e. until Disney Plus launched, finding it somewhere online was the only option despite the series being produced in america with some really big american names voice acting wise. Point is this came first to some people, so i’m using that as a flimsy excuse to put it ahead so we get a better finale. 

Now all that’s settled, let’s dive into “The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!” and see what one of the best duck propeties period makes of our boys. 

We open in a remote town in Brazil. It’s the Festival of the Flower.. which is a bit off to me. While it DOES kind of make plot sense.. the problem is the lure was written to Panchito and Jose.. Jose whose a brazil native and could’ve possibly been supscious that a tourist invintation wasn’t in Brazilian Portugese, the countries national language and something I specifically researched just to see what it’d be called. For the record it’d be O Festival da Flor acording to google translate, which still sounds neat, Webby could’ve still said it means festival of the flower. It just feels like a missed opportunity from a creative team that’s taken such pains to make the series feel as authentic as possible and clearly put a lot of hard work and research into making each location feel like it’s real world counterpart.  But it’s a minor thing and we soon get our two plots for the episode: Our B Plot.. is that Dewey can’t stay the fuck off his phone and is taking pictures rather than actually getting experiences with Louie enabling him, while Webby gets increasingly frustrated at Dewey not actually botherting to experince this unique and obscure culture. We’ll get back to this in a bit. 

Our main plot naturally concerns the reason our heroes are here: Donald is reuniting with The Cabs, who in this continuity are his old College friends who Scrooge hates due to having to listen to them practice constnatly and tells the kids they’d hate it worse than his playing the bagpipes. 

Bagpipes are objectively the worst insterument on earth. They are loud, unharmonic and generally just obnoxious. I do respect how important they are to Scotland, home of David Tennant, Grant Morrision and .. Alan Cumming and James Macavoy? Wait what? that’s awesome! Point is Scotland is great but I do not like the bagpipes except when Bugs Bunnny is murdering them. Honestly Donald’s college band was probably more like this. Nothing bad at all just mildly pathetic and mildly pathetic is what got Donald a girlfriend, so it’s not a  bad look

That brings me to another point: Scrooge is pretty obnoxious in this episode. It seems like his sole reason for coming was to bitch about Donald’s old college band. He could’ve just sent them a stern letter like the pros at being a cranky old geezer do. 

I do GET why he’s here as there are some REALLY damn funny bits with him in the a-plot, it just feels like they could’ve justified it better. But on to better things as Jose and Panchito enter the scene after Scrooge claims they “weren’t so cool”.. with Panchito diving from a plane and drifting down on his umbrella

And Panchito shows up dramatically playing the guitar. A truly awesome and worthy intro to our boys. So let’s talk about them in this series. Honestly the two really aren’t that diffrent from usual, though Jose’s lady chasing is given to Panchito, his footloose world traveling lifestyle remains in tact as does his genuine charm while Panchito remains the peppy one, just with his outbursts gone as his guns are replaced with cell phones.. 

Yeah while I do get replacing the pistols because let’s face it the mexican of the group being a gun nut was pretty damn unfortunate, though Don Rosa toned it down and justifed it well, and frankly guns are a hard no for family shows these days unless their laser guns so replacing them I get. But instead of I dunno giving him knives or turning his holsters into pouches carrying his stuff.. he just has two Cell Phones. It’s weird. It dosen’t really make sense other than for him putting on a big shot act and even big stars probably don’t have two phones on them at all times. It’s just a VERY weird update that makes not a whole lot of logical sense and I belivie is thankfully gone by the next ep. The only real issue I have is the two just sorta blend together personality wise instead of being distinct like usual, but that’s also happened in other apperances, so it’s not exactly a new or unique problem, and the two’s voice actors do a great job making both feel like they should. 

Speaking of which let’s just go ahead and discuss that elephant in the room: The Cabs were recast for the first time in ages, which didn’t sit well with friends of legend as Eric Bauza, who’d replaced rob Paulsen, was himself replaced by Arturo Del Puerto and Bernado Del Paulo replaced Jamie Camil and Carlos Aquazi as Panchito. And I have mixed opinons on this one: Replacing Eric was a no brainer: while he’s a terrific voice actor.. he’s not brazilian and the crew of Ducktales 2017 perfer to cast actors who match their characters backgrounds, which again adds to the authenicty of it’s globetrotting and scope. They don’t ALWAYS, Cree Summer isn’t, as far as I know, Egyptian and Catherine Tate, while wonderful, isn’t italian. But for the most part it adds a nice flavor to things and frankly I personally prefer it when Jose is voiced by an actual brazilian man. So that change i’m fine with. Not using Camil though... I do not get. Jamie Camil is a throughly talented voice actor, having done TONS of great work lately , vocing Globgor for star vs and not getting nearly enough screen time as the loveable demon dad, and stealing the show as Don Carnage earlier in the series. While that episode is one of the series weakest, he’s still easily the best part of it and I hope Carnage shows up one last time before the finale. 

So it really makes.. no sense to me to replace him. Not only is camil a bigger named actor, but he was already on the show and even the defense of “well they don’t want actors playing multiple rolls” ended up utterly destroyed by the end of the season, as Christ Dimatopolus not only reprised Storkules, but went on to play Drake and Melon, and picked up a FOURTH role in season 3 as Hades. My point is the show has no real issue with doubling up on voice rolls, so I scratch my head as to why Camil wasn’t given this part too despite being the obvious choice. Del Paulo isn’t a bad actor and is great in the role.. I just scratch my head why he was needed when a perfect actor for the part was right there and already had experince with the character. 

I do think Puerto and Paulo are terrific and do the characters justice, issues with Paulo being there at all aside, and they do a great job and more than earned the roles and I don’t think the mass critcisim of this version of the characters is entirely warranted.. for this episode. This episode while they can meld into each other... that happens in most of their apperances anyway, so it’s not unusual or unique to this series. I will say however that the way their written in their next apperance is utter garbage: they aren’t really given any chances to be distinct, are basically written as one person even worse .. and that one person is a greedy asshole who takes advantage of their friend and never apologizes. I do get why people did not like them in that episode. I do think it has no baring on this one and people should stop bashing these versions as a whole for one terrible episode, especially when Louie has been written pretty badly for the bulk of season 3, yet is still not a bad character. It’s unfair to paint the series as painting them soley as selfish jackasses when it didn’t at first and hopefully wont’ again when they presumibly show up for the finale’s big avengers endgame sequence I hope is coming. For now they aren’t bad and the colors are crisp and the animation nice and bouncy on our boys. 

Since we have two plots here, I’m just going to go ahead and split em since honestly, the b plot dosen’t really impact the a-plot until really the last minute and is basically happening right along side it and in concert with it. Sooooo... 

The Trite B-Plot: As you can probably gather I didn’t really like this one. It’s basically 5-7 minutes of me wanting to punch a child in the face. Or rather Webby wanting to have fun experinces and actually take in the culture while in town, while Dewey just wants to take pictures of everything, make it seem like he did stuff, and generally is obnoxious to webby while Louie supports him wholeheartdly. That last part is really one of the few good parts of the plot as it’s nice for one of the brothers plots to NOT be about them being in conflict or squabbling but just hanging out and having some fun, doubly so since i’ve had to spend a season watching Louie , outside of a few good exceptions be an absolute dick to Huey and also Dewey once. It’s nice to just see him and Dewey bond over a shared intrest: posting shit online and getting good photos. 

And it’s not without GOOD gags: Dewey’s obnoxious captions at one point while Webby continually looses her shit, Louie continually saying “that’s so wise” at Dewey’s bullshit philosphies, Webby’s continued annoyance is delivered great by Kate as always, and the best bit is Webby, utterly pissed at Dewey for refusing to eat Local Cuisine, wolfing down the entire fucking plate, all the dumplings in her mouth at once while Dewey, naturally, takes a picture. Otherwise this is just.. grating. It’s utterly grating to watch Webby GENUINELY try hard to absorb the local culture and really enjoy a once in a life time experince.. while Dewey jackasses about and basically acts like she’s wrong for it and treats his best friend like garbage. Just because i’ts nice it’s not Louie this time doesen’t make one of the kids being a dick without any nuance or character stuff suddenly great. It’s just tiresome. 

And SOMEHOW , despite already not liking it the first time watching the episode.. it’s even WORSE now afterlast years. No not because I watched it while having to put up with Coronoavirus induced Chills, but because another show did this plot 100 times better: Close Enough. One of the best new shows of the year, Close Enough had a plot where exes Bridget and Alex, aka yet aother great set of Kimiko Glenn and Jason Mantzokus characters, went on vacation together, but their attempts to have some ex sex fell flat due to longstanding issues we found about through this plot: Bridget has a bad habit of doing what Dewey did, focusing way more on her social than actually enjoying her vacatoin while Alex has a bad habit of befreinding random weirdos who agree with his worldview. Keep in mind this is the same worldview that spent an afternoon connecting garfield to jesus while pissing in a jug for some reason. Point instead of a character just being a smug dick, it ties into actual character flaws that helped us not only learn more about them but lead to a really heartwarming scene where the two admit they jsut can’t sleep together casually with allt heir baggage, and that they still have a lot to sort out. Before given the show their on having their friends show up from the a plot and all of them getting kidnapped by a robot because Josh skipped a bunch of ads and a 5 year old has to solve some issues and prove she’s not dumb to blow up said robot. What i’m saying is it’s even more insufferable watching this after seeing it done a thousand times better, and fucking watch Close Enough. Thankfully unlike Inifnity Train it’s not reliant on you to get a second season as it’s been renewed proving that even in a cluster fuck like 2020 miracles can happen, but it’d still be nice for it to get more fans during the presumably long wait for Season 2. Let’s move past this, i’ll get to the plot relevant bit for the climax when we get to the climax, and onto the reason your all here. 

The Main Event: A Life Not Wasted

Okay onto the actual plot. Rewinding quite a bit, the boys meet our boys, and we get some good bits. The boys cool new handshake leaves Huey wanting one only for Louie to simply lick his hand. See this is Louie dickery I can get behind because what did Huey expect? I do take comfort in the fact he has actual friends now who will likely do a handshake, fenton very much included. I’m sure Gyro didn’t want one either so he’s had plenty of time to workshop. We also find out one of the boys was dropped as an egg and well.. given Dewey opens and closes his eyes one at a time for this one moment, the ohter triplets just sorta.. silently agre it’s Dewey. IT does explain why he thought Champ Popular would get over..that and Santa Claus is Going to Highschool being his favorite movie. 

So both Jose and Panchito claim to be sucessful: Jose being a sucessful jetsetter and trendsetter, and Panchito being a world famous pop star, never stop stopping. So Donald being donald panics and runs into a alley where Scrooge and Huey join him.  Donald is fully convinced he’s wasted his life and has nothing to show for it. Huey rightfully points out he raised three wonderful children and isn’t that enough? Naturally given Donald clearly has some issues related to this subject and Scrooge has develoved into old man yells at cloud, he agrees it’s not important as money. So Huey decides to help his uncle because he’s the good son.. and because the two are easily the most alike out of Donald and his Kids. It’s something I haven’t really been able to bring up before so I was delighted to realize i could now: Besides the obvious people bring up constnatly, I.e. Huey having inhereted the most of the family rage out of his brothers, there’s the fact both are kind of obessive, both tend ot spiral into panic when a situation goes wrong, both are awkward with women, both are frequently ignored or taken for granted by those around them, and both are awkward adorable dorks who I will give my life to protect. It’s why I think Huey has the best relationship with his uncle of the bunch: He’s the only one who at least TRIES to empahtize with him and support him. While the other two do love him, and Webby of course likely has an insanne and horrifying shrine of him, and scrooge and probably della now in her closet.. and of course lena but that’s less out of hero worship and more out of her insane, over the top, very webby version of love. Point is, he’s the one who genuinely sees his uncle as a person who needs help and love. This was best demonstrated in the scene at the bank back in “Who Is Gizmoduck” as Huey tries to get his uncle a loan using the guidebook and is there soley to help the guy and taking time out of his day to visit the bank. Let’s face it though this is huey: he probably loves visiting the bank. They just got new pens! So Huey decides to put his improv badge to good use... so far the only use he’s gotten is Louie laughing at the fact he actually earned an improv badge and urges donald to simply ACT like he’s sucessful. Scrooge balks at this, because as Wonder Woman 1984 taught us nothing good comes from lies.. or from  banging your ghost boyfriend while he’s possessing someone’s body without said body’s consent and plan to fully live out the rest of your lives togehter without ever considering how fucked up this is. I will..deal with that movie ... soon. But he soon changes his turn and agrees to go along with it to avoid Jose getting upset and them having to pay for everything. 

So Huey suggest Donald keep the lie small, but belivable. Given the law of sitcoms when it comes to anyone saying that and the fact this is Donald, he instead panics and lies that he’s taken over McDuck industries and scrooge has gone full abe simpson in the other direction. 

Which is why i’m not enitrely annoyed by Scrooge’s presence: while they don’t even handwave him being here, Scrooge putting on an old man act, and sometimes getting back at donald for it is solid gold the whole damn time and some of David Tennat’s best comedic acting on the show, so it makes up for him being a grumpus.  And while i’m not usually not a fan of liar revealed plots, this one works for me.. mostly because it’s rooted in character. Here Donald is lying.. but because of deep seated neurosis he’s yet to fully tackle. While he loves his boys and is proud of htem every day... it’s very clear Donald hates his life and how it turned out. We got bits of this back in House of the Lucky Gander, with Donald’s first thought upon thinking he’s about to die is “I wasted my life” and feeling entirely like a looser. This episode brillinatly builds on that: it shows a Donald who simply feels.. he acomplished nothing. It’s easy to see why as his parents were happy and sucessful at whatever they did from the looks of it and how well taken care of the kids were, his uncle is the richest duck in the world and it’s greatest hero and explorer, his sister is the only one who could rival that record, and his cousin constnatly gets riches and fame handed to him. Donald.. by comparison.. is just a normal guy whose house is in his rich uncle’s pool, who has no job, no partner, and only really the love of his family. He spent his life on adventures he didn’t want to have living int he shadow of someone he grew to resent before the Spear of Selene incident blew things up for a decade. And then when he was free instead of becoming a big sucess... he blew the rest of it being overprotective of his boys and bouncing from dead end job to dead end job. It’s easy to see why he sees himself as a failure despite having lived a good life: compared to everyone else, even his sister who mooned herself, in his life.. he feelsd far behind. And as someone whose felt they were far behind countless times and only now is realizing they haven’t and it’s a marathoon ot a sprint I naturally relate. So his wanting to play big shot for just ONE day, to be the big hero like scrooge, teo be a sucess for five minutes with his best friends.. it’s understandable and relatable. 

So Donald continues the ruse, leading to a great bit where the cabs all try to avoid picking up the check “WE can’t all keep whistling nonchalantly” before Scrooge is forced to give Donald the money to in the best joke of the episode.. and I mean FORCED. He and donald get into a fight with their hands under the table and Huey eventually gets fed up with that and has to BITE his uncle’s hand just to get him to do what he shoudl’ve done ruse or no given he’s the richest person there. The reason I take special offense to this.. is that my fairly wealthy grandpa and grandma, my mom’s dad and his wife for the record, would buy us dinner EVERY TIME they were near town, a nice steak dinner with whatever we wanted to most of the time. They knew we couldn’t afford such luxury half the time and wanted to treat us and spend time with us. Since my grandpa’s passing, my Grandma and her New Husband have continued the tradition since then, if obviously not this year for damn obvious reasons, thought hey sent us a really nice dinner to cook for christmas in the same spirit. What i’m saying is when you know your relatives arne’t as stacked as you , you pay for the fucking meal especially since i’ts a special occasion, and even for someone as stingy as scrooge, it comes off as a dick move. 

We then get the best scene with the episode, just inching out the climax as the three simply talk, remince on old times, have a good rib like old friends would. It feels natural and wonderful to watch and gets even better when the three hear the radio and end up having an impromptu dance and musical number. Also Jose’s umbrella is also a flute somehow. 

Point is the boys have a good time and Donald gets carried away, with the boys planning a world tour. Huey, while happy to endulge his uncle in a badly needded ego boost, isn’t happy to endulge this and scrooge is unwilling ot pay, more resonably this time. Huey eventually talks him out of being a moron and tells him he has to tell the honest truth and while that dosen’t work this does. 

So as Donald goes to face the music, we have come to our climax. Phrasing. 

The Finale: Ay Carumba

So we come to our finale. Backing up a scene or too to the B-Plot, webby is interviewing a local about the festival when she gets stuck in a loop. So far in the episode we’ve had hints something is up with the people as they go all yellow eyed.. and webby finds out why as she notices the “person” she was interviewing is, in a hilarious and disturbing review.. a horrignly realistic hand puppet.. and upon stealing Louie’s phone, she points out there’s no shots of anyone’s feet.. and the reason why is that the giant flower the feast is about is a mean green mother from outer space and he’s bad. And Webby finding that out’s got him fighting mad.  Webby and the boys naturally run to warn the remaning boy and scrooge and they all run out only to get blocked out of town and captured. Dewey looses his phone inside the plant monster.

In a great joke, Scrooge ended up actually throwing his back out with the old man act, so our heroes are all captured and it’s up to our stars to save the day.  So while his family is in peril, Donald finally comes clean with Jose and Panchito naturally being upset.. for a second before Jose admits he lied to and an irate panchito.. is forced to admit he also lied. Jose is a flight attendant, hopefully he’ll get his own mini series where he accidently murders a dude on disney plus, which is a nice update of his globe trotting ways, as it’s a resonable way for someone with no money to get around the world these days and Panchito is a birthday party muscian. They all however chuckle over this realizing they haven’t come as far as they thought.. and they still have each other. It’s a nice way of modernizing Rosa’s jobs for them and their hard luck lives he set up and I love this. IJt’s just a sweet emotoinal scene that makes donald, and his friends, realize they aren’t faliures and life isn’t just about reaching some arbitrarity goal.. just like Soul taught me aka the actually great movie I watched on Christmas Day.  But since Donald’s family is in peril Jose suggests theys till play the gig.. just like they did ion acapulco thus we get the second best scene of the episode and another worthy rendition of The Three Caballeros as our heroes beat the shit out of the plant, free the kids and the plant straighens out scrooges back. 

It’s beautiful, psycadelic, and utterly awesome. Seroiusly the bright boldend colors are awesome and so’s this sequence. Easily one of the show’s best.. and it’s a show that contiains the greatest scene in television history

So that masterclass concludes with Donald signing.. badly.. and blowing the plant hte fuck up. Our heroes win and head off in the sunchaser. No idea what Launchpad is up to, probably has another ex in the area. Point is our heroes win, Dewey deletes his photos because “If there was no pics it didn’t happen” (So wise) and Donald decides to get the band back together, prompting scrooge to do an animal house on Panchito’s guitar... you.. you know you have to pay for that right? you aren’t a loveable frat man and he wasn’t ‘singing and I gave my love a cherry. Your obligated to get him a new guitar. You know that right?

So with that the episode wraps. This is a pretty good episode. While the subplot is bad and it should feel bad the main plot is emotional, well done and really adds more depth to Donald’s character while giving us a hell of a show with the cabs. The College Band background gives the boys a unique flavor this time around, not musically but in how they know each other and helps set it apart from the countless other reunions. It’s a truly bright, colorful and fun episode with some great gags and great performances. As I said Puerto and Paulo really knock it out of the park as the boys and while I would’ve preferred Jamie Camil, Paulo was still utterly excellent, though Puerto was the clear standout of the two. While their second apparence would be disapointing characterization wise, overall this was a fun introduction to two of disney’s best into it’s best universe and one of Season 2′s Standouts. 

Next Time on the Ride of the Three Cablleros: we begin our massive finale look at The Legend of the Three Cablleros. Donald gets dumped by a nightmare of a person and finds an inhertance, new friends, and some sort of hot adventure god in his new cabana. Good times. Until then goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. 

[rauliskafan]

A Hard Lesson in Miracles: Chapter 5

Authors’ Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, wonderful readers!!! To close out this festive day, here is the final part of our latest story!!! Will Natalia and Maggie reunite? Will Rafael have the perfect gift for his hermosa flor? Read on for more!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy, and we cannot thank all of you enough for taking our story to your hearts!!!

“This is the worst. The absolute worst ever,” Maggie whined. The traffic was so incredibly heavy that she swore they remained in the same spot for the past forty-five minutes. “Who had the genius idea to travel today? Oh, wait… you, did counselor.” Maggie’s brown eyes narrowed at her brother-in-law. 

“Apologies, Maggie,” Rafael said. “But you were my only hope.”

“Just call me Obi Wan Kenobi,” Maggie said, focusing on the traffic that moved just a tiny bit, but it did nothing to calm her impatience.

Along with the anxious energy trickling down from the top of her head to her tapping hand on account of the holiday…

 …and other things.

“I’d rather you and your sister call a truce,” Rafael said. “How much longer is this going to go on?”

After a few moments of silence, Maggie spoke.

“Before I knew that Natty was family, really family, I wished I had a sister.” Memories of her life with Diana and the days of loneliness invaded her thoughts. “Desperately,” she continued. “But now---” She was interrupted by an obnoxious horn blaring behind them.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Maggie screamed, looking over her shoulder, Rafael touched her arm, but she gritted her teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Maybe this was the wrong call,” Rafael admitted.

“Think I have the monopoly on those,” Maggie said as a single tear ran down her cheek.

“Maggie, please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I wanted to be the one Natty turns to. Because I want to turn to her. Especially…” Her voice trailed off, and when her tears intensified, Rafael released a heavy sigh.

“Maggie, pull over.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, please,” he said firmly.

She grumbled some words incoherently but nonetheless obeyed Rafael’s sudden change in course and managed to make it to the side of the road without too much of a fuss.

“Okay, care to tell me what this is about?” Maggie unbuckled her seat belt and turned to fully face Rafael who peered into her eyes.

“This has to stop,” he started. “The distance between you and Natalia… even the girls are suffering, Maggie.” He paused when fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes, burning while the sun began to set.

“I don’t… I never want that,” Maggie said.

“I know,” Rafael assured her. “Look, you have to understand that none of this was meant to hurt you. This was me… this was all of us trying to protect you.”

“And a part of me gets that,” Maggie finally said. “I just feel like I’m in this thing too deep now. Like I can’t get out.”

“Stop that,” he said, gently grabbing her shoulders. “There’s always a way out of a bad time.” For one moment, he seemed distant. Was he recalling his younger days? Or was it still the nightmare of his most recent past? “And… and through it all, Natalia helped me heal. Helped me not to feel alone. Let her help you, too. Better yet, do it together.”

Biting her bottom lip, Maggie sighed. “I really miss the way things were, Rafael.”

“We can get it all back,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Natalia wants it. So do the girls… Maggie, I want you back in our lives.”

And slowly she laughed through her tears. “That is indeed saying something.”

Chuckling, Rafael still held her fast. “Then what do you say? Will you come to the party tonight?”

She started to speak but suddenly pulled him into a warm hug. Rafael happily returned the embrace and patted Maggie’s back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased.

“Yes, I---”

Another horn blared frantically, but it seemed to magically do the trick, and the traffic began to flow steadily.

“Think we can still make it to that shop on time?” Rafael questioned with a glance at his watch.

“Watch me fly,” Maggie said, buckling up once again and merging into traffic without any hassle. “First the candy, and then… then I’m going to talk to my sister.”

Her voice trembled some, but there was no turning back now.

           “Hey! Need any help in here?”

           Natalia double checked the ziti to make sure that every cheese was nearly melted.

           “No thanks, Sonny,” Natalia said, pouring the rest of the gravy into the boat and starting to grate some Parmesan. Still, the detective lingered.

           “You sure?” he asked. “I’d be more than happy to lend a hand.”

           “Are you doubting my pasta-making abilities?” Natalia playfully challenged. “Do we need to have another cook off?”

           “I’d be game for that,” Carisi said, turning his head to the sound of Rollins’ laughter emanating from the other room.

           “That’s good to hear,” Natalia said, abandoning the cheese for a second to squeeze Carisi’s hand. “You must be happy to have Amanda back.”

           “Yeah.” Natalia’s smile widened when Carisi blushed upon meeting her eyes.

           “In the squad room,” he continued. “That’s… that’s what you meant, right?”

           “Sure, Sonny,” Natalia said, pecking his cheek.

           “Nice to be back here, too,” he said, obviously trying to change the subject. “Didn’t know if I’d ever get another dinner invite from you.”

           “Why would you think that?” Natalia asked.

           “Well, I… I mean the last date I brought by left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.”

           She couldn’t help but cringe at the memory of Eve Selby and all that the woman left in her wake. Truth be told, she should still be furious. But Natalia shook her head and gave Sonny a quick hug.

           “We’re not wasting another moment on her,” Natalia said. “Let the past lie. And here’s to better things in the New Year.”

           “I like the way your mind works,” Carisi said, his head turned once more at the sound of Jesse calling out for him.

           “Go,” Natalia said. “It’s a party. Enjoy yourself.”

           He headed out, leaving Natalia to put the finishing touches on her main course, and Ashtonja appeared.

           “Want me to take the starters out?” she asked, gesturing to the marinated mushrooms and olives, the stuffed artichokes and the fried calamari.

           “I got it,” Natalia smiled. “Having fun?”

           “It’s… different.”

           Flashing back to the moments when they decorated the tree, Natalia envisioned Ashtonja in her lonely apartment, her mother lost, her grandmother seeking her own pleasure with no thought for the girl.

           “But better I hope,” Natalia said. She held Ashtonja’s hand, saw the girl’s face a blank slate.

           “The best, Natalia,” Ashtonja said. “I don’t know if I ever told you… cause I am like really grateful that you took me in.”

           “Stop,” Natalia said. “I’m grateful to have you here. The way you are with Violetta… that makes me smile every day.”

           Ashtonja almost looked as if she could cry when she picked up one of the platters with a smile.

           “She’s a cool kid,” Ashtonja said. “Guess she gets that from you.”

           Everything said even as so many things remained unspoken, Ashtonja left the kitchen.

           “Ash! Help me pick the music.”

           The older girl set the plate down, and scooped Violetta into her arms. Contented by the sight, Natalia’s brow still furrowed at the clock on the kitchen wall.

           Where was her husband?

           Wandering towards the window, she saw Brenna Harker standing with Fin. Trevor made a point of showing off his new gloves as Alessia and Rollins looked on.

           “And you should have seen this one on skates at Rockefeller Center!” Harker said, tickling Fin’s side and making him laugh. “He tried to play the novice, but I think we have a solid shot at the Olympic Pairs team.”

           “Who you gonna skate for?” Rollins asked, jutting her chin in the air.

           “IOC flag,” Fin said. “We’re a world unto ourselves right here.”

           “God, you are so bloody beautiful, Odafin!”

           Harker wasted no time seizing his face and kissing him full on the mouth, Rollins whistled, and Trevor applauded. As much as Natalia wanted to join in the scene, her thoughts kept turning to Rafael when there was a knock at the door…

           …and she swung it open to see Liv holding Noah with two Dodds at her side.

           “Merry Christmas!” Liv said, hugging Natalia as Violetta raced forward.

           “Noah! Look! This mistletoe! You have to kiss me every time we stand under it.”

           Now Natalia understood why her sweet pea had asked Ashtonja to braid the brand of holly into her hair, and when Noah leaped from his mother’s arms, Violetta gave chase.

           “Sorry,” Natalia said.

           “At least I know she comes from good stock,” Liv said as the Chief helped her off with her coat, and Natalia faced the younger Dodds.

           “Merry Christmas, Mike,” she said.

           “Natalia, I am so happy to see you.”

           He hugged her, and she felt as if she would cry when she swallowed the sadness back and faced him head on.

           “It’s been awhile,” Natalia agreed. “Is Maggie with you?”

           “She had something to do out of town,” he said.

           “She… so she’s not coming?” Natalia asked.

           “Your guess is as good as---”

           “Both of you can relax,” Liv promised, accepting a glass of wine from Trevor. “I have a feeling that she’ll be by soon enough.”

           Dying to know what the lieutenant meant, Natalia said nothing when the lights from a car neared the curb. She raced out the door and stood in the cold, blowing on her hands.

           “Atticus! Where have you---?”

           Her speech stopped short when Maggie emerged from behind the wheel. She seemed so small, hanging her head. But Rafael gently nudged her ribs.

           And Natalia held her breath as her sister ascended the steps, avoiding her eyes.

           “Hi,” Maggie whispered, her voice meek.

           “Hi, yourself,” Natalia said. Blinking against the chill of night air, she descended another step. Raising one hand, she nearly touched Maggie’s cheek when her sister leaned away.

           “I… I mean I know you said I was invited,” Maggie said. “Was that just lip service? Wouldn’t blame you after the way I acted.”

           “Maggie, I---”

           “Cause I… see I guess I kind of liked you turning to me for help,” Maggie continued. “Sharing secrets. Without that, I didn’t know what to… but it’s no excuse for---”

           “Maggie, I’m sorry,” Natalia quickly said. “It never felt right keeping you in the dark.”

           “So… can we be sisters again?” Maggie hopefully asked.

           “And friends,” Natalia confirmed. “The best of.”

           Extending her arms, Natalia gasped when Maggie flew into her arms, clinging tightly to her neck. She heaved a sigh of untold release to have her sister back, and as Rafael came closer, she mouthed a quick thank you.

           “You are more than welcome, mi hermosa flor.”

           Dodds commented on the cold, and the sisters finally headed inside, the room erupting at Maggie’s appearance.

           “Tia Maggie!”

           Violetta dropped her pursuit of Noah as she held Maggie’s legs and rattled on about all the steps they had taken to prepare for the party.

           “It looks amazing,” Maggie commented.

           “Are you staying, Tia Maggie?” Violetta hopefully asked. Maggie shot her sister a quick glance and sighed as Dodds helped her out of her coat.

           “Of course. Family’s everything on Christmas.”

           Violetta tugged Maggie towards the table as Lucia and Alessia played with the twins. Natalia’s thoughts turned to her ziti when Rafael pulled her into another room.

           “Atticus? What are you doing?”

           “A moment of your time, hermosa,” he said. “So, let me get the bad news out of the way first.”

           “Bad news? What do you---?”

           “I don’t come bearing gifts.”

           Looking like he had committed some unforgivable crime, Natalia moved fast to stroke his stubbled cheek and nuzzle his nose.

           “Atticus, you’re here,” Natalia started. “You’re home. That’s my gift. Don’t you know that?”

           His chin dropped to her shoulder, and Rafael pulled Natalia closer, his kisses peppering her hair. Holding her for several long seconds, the strains of Jingle Bells morphing into Rudolph and Violetta’s voice the loudest of all, Rafael finally, slowly drew back.

           “Only because you stuck by me,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

           “You silly man,” Natalia teased. “Where else would I ever want to be?”

           Their lips locked, and Natalia ran her hands up and down his arms until her fingers captured his.

           “So no sad faces, okay?” she said.

           “But I feel so… I had such a fabulous idea. Chocolates from Katie’s Kandy Kastle.”

           “How did you find out about that?” Natalia asked.

           “From you mother,” Rafael admitted. “But then the delivery got screwed up, and I had to head out there.”

           “That’s why you called on Maggie,” Natalia said, connecting the dots.

           “Place was sealed up tighter than a bank vault,” Rafael confessed. “All that candy in the window… almost like it was mocking us.”

           “Bite your tongue!” Natalia teased. “Chocolate is never wicked.”

           “Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to.”

           “The love of your life?” Natalia asked.

           “In all her Christmas splendor.”

           He kissed her again, his tongue tangling with hers until he sighed against her skin.

           “I still wanted to give you something more.”

           “You gave me my sister back, Atticus,” she said, her lips drifting towards his ear. “My gift pales in comparison.”

           “Hermosa, you don’t have to give me any---”

           “But I’ve been looking forward to it all day, Atticus!” she said, bouncing from one foot to the other, leaving his side for a split second, and returning just as quickly with a slim package in hand.

           “Merry Christmas, Atticus,” Natalia said, presenting him the gift and biting her lip as he smiled and tore the silver paper aside.

           “Oh! This was my… how did you…?”

           He struggled for words as he flipped through the storybook of black and white photographs. Edith, the Lonely Doll, stood in still frames on the city streets, imagining a world where she could never go home again. Until a certain Mr. Bear…

           “Abuelita always read this to me,” Rafael said. “I… so many times I felt like this lost doll. Can thank my father for that. He hit my mother. And Abuelita…”

           “Atticus.”

           She hugged him, her head on his shoulder, and together they looked at the book.

           “Who wouldn’t want somewhere safe to land?” she said.

           Fearing that she had brought up too many bad memories, Natalia was about to take the book back, say that it could wait for another day when Rafael focused on her eyes.

           “Lucky I have that now,” Rafael said. “Mi final de libro de cuentos.”

           Smiling, Natalia kissed him and murmured against his lips.

           “And you’re my storybook ending, Atticus,” she said. “Te amo.”

           “Te amo por siempre.”

           Kissing him, savoring his taste, she whimpered when he left her lips but listened to his voice.

           “And I want all of us back,” he said. “Maybe you and me on New Year’s? Can I take you somewhere special?”

           Excited for him and for herself, she hugged him and tousled his hair.

           “It’s a date, Atticus. But tonight, we have a party to host.”

           “At your service, hermosa.”

           They started back into the main room and saw Alessia and Lucia showing the twins two tiny plush toys.

           “Baby Harolds!” Natalia declared. “But how did they know?”

           Rafael smirk told the tale as the Chief approached them.

           “Great party!” he said.

           “Glad you could come,” Natalia replied.

           “Glad to be asked,” the Chief said. “And look… I need you to keep this under your hats, but word is that you’ll be back in the DA’s office after the first of the year.”

           “Really?” Rafael asked, his voice beyond hopeful as Natalia held his hand.

           “Hear there’s going to be a new man at the helm,” the Chief said. “Could be good news for all of us.”

           With a wink, the Chief moved back to Liv, and Rafael embraced his wife.

           “Hermosa, I…”

           “I’m happy for you, Atticus.”

           They nearly kissed when Maggie and Dodds joined them.

           “Food’s great, Natalia,” Dodds said.

           “Thank you, Mike.”

           “We have to do this again,” Rafael said. “Soon.”

           “Can you make it next week?” Natalia asked. “Some time after the first?”

           “Of course!” Maggie squealed. “I’ve missed being here. And since we’re not keeping each other in the dark anymore…”

           Her eyes began to well up. Natalia hugged her sister and kissed her cheek.

           “No more tears,” Natalia said. “This is a happy night.”

           “I know,” Maggie agreed. “But see the thing is… these aren’t sad tears.”

           Exchanging a quick glance with her husband, Natalia saw Rafael shrug his shoulders before looking back to Maggie.

           “I’ve been with her all day, and I have no idea,” Rafael said.

           “What aren’t you telling us, Maggie?”

           The ballerina’s pearly white teeth surrounded one nail, and Dodds wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

           “Timing seems right,” he said.

           “Timing seems perfect,” she stressed, reaching for one of Natalia’s hands and one of Rafael’s. “So… my Christmas gift for my sister… and my brother… how do you two feel about becoming an aunt and uncle?”

           Rafael’s jaw unhinged, and Natalia gasped, her hands at her mouth before she extended her arms and pulled Maggie in for another hug.

           “Are you serious?” Natalia exclaimed. “How long have you known?”

           “It’s barely a month,” Dodds admitted. “But everything looks good.”

           “Let’s see if you say that when I’m as big as a house,” Maggie quipped.

           “Are you kidding?” Dodds shot back. “I’m looking forward to working more pizza into our menu.”

           “Just hold off on those desserts of yours,” Rafael quipped, and Maggie slapped his arm.

           “Oh, you’re going to head back to the Kandy Kastle on your own and keep me in chocolate for the next eight months,” Maggie said.

           He started to object when Natalia smiled at him from her sister’s side.

           “Wish granted,” he said. “You deserve nothing less.”

           He shook Dodds’ hand, and the four of them embraced as Judy Garland’s voice poured through the speakers. Natalia snuggled deeper into Rafael’s chest, and Violetta danced with Ashtonja. Trevor kissed Alessia; Harker made the same move with Fin. Liv and the Chief sang with Noah as Carisi and Rollins harmonized with Jesse. And Lucia played with the twins. After a long year their little family was intact once again, about to add another member. Natalia smiled at her husband as the snow started to fall outside.

           And everything was right in the whole wide world.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 1: The Quiet Kid in Class

Here’s the draft of my original piece of fiction. It’s here for backup purposes.

Enjoy.

Darkness without light is an abyss. Light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side.

(Unknown)

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Here's my first-ever original work I conceptualized from scratch. Hope you all like it. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 1: The Quiet Kid in Class

***

Somewhere inside Our Lady of Fatima School in Mandaluyong, Metro Manila...

Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Azrael. Or was it Uriel?

'Those were the Four Archangels, right?' the young 14-year-old boy by the name of Florante Galang thought, talking to himself in his mind as the rain poured all around him.

What a dreadful month this had been.

Anyway, Michael or Mikhail was the most famous archangel whose name meant "Who Is Like God". He was the greatest of God's angels and the most godlike of the four. With his flaming sword, he was the seraph who ultimately cast the angelic traitor Lucifer out of Heaven and into Hell.

Meanwhile, Raphael, Rafael, or Israfil was the archangel whose name meant "God Heals" or "God, Please Heal". The healing angel who bound the Archdemon Azazel under a desert called Dudael. The Angel of Life and Healing.

Then there was Gabriel or Jibrail. His name meant, "God Is My Strength". The strongest warrior angel of the four. The seraph that was closest to the humans who regularly appeared among prophets and holy persons. He was the Angel of Strength and Righteous Power.

Azrael or Samael, meanwhile, was the archangel whose name meant "Angel of God" but actually had the reputation of being more of the "Angel of Death". He was rumored to be the angel who killed all the firstborn sons of the Egyptians during the time of Moses as part of the Seven Plagues of Egypt.  

In Jewish mysticism, he was even considered the embodiment of evil. The most demonic of the archangels who never fell from grace.

Some contend that the fourth angel of the Four Archangels was Uriel instead of Azrael, whose name meant "God Is My Light". The archangel responsible for "changing" the Orb of the Sun as the day wound down from morning to night. The Solar Angel.

Those were the strange thoughts swirling inside Florante Galang's brain for whatever reason as he stared breathless at the strange apparition of a goddess(?) with an hourglass figure, porcelain skin, and growing white wings waltzing across the long hallway of the entrance to Fatima School.

Who was this? What was this? Why was this...?

Actually, he felt like he'd been walking in that same hallway towards the exit forever until that point, with no light at the end of the tunnel. Only a black nothingness that stretched on forever, interrupted by this strange being of light before him.

The only light he could see was from this strange being before him that triggered his flight-or-flight response for merely existing.

She also sported huge dove wings on her back that spread behind her like a long white feathery banner. As though she were a valkyrie or something. Or an angel.

Were her angel wings what made him think of the Four Archangels?

He should've been thinking about Jesus, Mary, and Joseph instead, to be honest.

'Susmaryosep!'

He sometimes wondered if he was seeing the same things through his eyes that the rest of the world was seeing. After all, everyone could see color but couldn't describe them, so there was no way of knowing if the red he sees was the red other people see.

Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. His mother did say she was tempted to have him take an autism test. However, the cause didn't matter. It wouldn't change the effect.

He stood there, transfixed by her gorgon stare and her tall, svelte body. She strode, her form appearing inch by inch with every gliding step.  

The feminine silhouette emerged from the shadows, revealing the horror underneath the silken black cloak of darkness.

She said nothing, but he could feel the malice in her every movement.

Her skin gleamed like pearls in the moonlight. A sensation grew inside him inexorably, rising from his stomach to his throat as he felt his soul claw its way out of his body in anticipation and dread.

Was she a "White Lady" or a vengeful spirit from beyond the grave? Was he being haunted on this rainy day (or night)?

His gaze focused right into the shining, mesmerizing eyes of the goddess staring right back at him.

Beguiling. Alluring. Dangerous. It pushed all his buttons, confusing him.

So what the hell was he looking at?

Was it delirium that made him see a strange woman that reminded him of angels instead of the embodiment of death before him?

A Biblical angel. Both awesome and awful.

She... not that gender mattered to angels... said, "Do not fear, child. It will be over soon."

She approached him with every bone and muscle from her swaying body twitching visibly under her skin.

His delirious mind going blank, he asked the apparition her name.

"Who are you?!" he asked, when he should've instead said, "What are you?"

The pitter-patter of the rain grew louder and louder. The wind blew hard, tousling his thin bowl-cut hair.

"This is the end of the line for you. I won't let you hurt anyone else, Flor. Prepare to die."

Oh no. Is she for real? What did he do to deserve this? How did she know his name? Her voice began to sound familiar though.

Was this the end of the line for him? More importantly, did it matter?

The juxtaposition of beauty and beast almost drove him mad. Like a surreal dream that melted into a formless nightmare. Or perhaps vice-versa.

The haze in his mind then cleared. He recognized who that person was. She was someone familiar. Even in her transformed state he could recognize her face.

She then flew towards him with dove wings and the speed of a man jumping from a skyscraper and falling to his death towards the cold, hard pavement.

Faster than he could even fathom or wonder why she was named after the Angel of Healing instead of the Angel of Death.

His life then flashed before his eyes.

***

Florante Galang's story was a typical one (apparently).

The awkward teenage boy who couldn't make friends. The absent-minded weirdo. The outcast who lived in a world of his own. The nerd who loved anime a bit too much.

'You've heard it once and you might as well have heard it a thousand times before.'

How'd he know he was such a stereotype? From the movies and TV shows he'd watch or the books he'd read. He was the "blank slate" awkward kid in such stories. The default.

Perhaps even the background character. Otherwise, a subject of mockery or wish fulfillment.

They were stories made to appeal to someone like him, after all. Or mock someone like him.

He was not someone people wished to be but what they usually ended up as from the start. An ordinary fellow that sat in contrast against the special ones. The greats.

Most everyone in Fatima High School had their own cliques and social circles, but most who studied there had formed them since grade school.

Because he was a socially inept loser and he transferred there as a freshman, he never had a chance to form bonds with most anyone.

He was, in short, the new kid in school, who then became the quiet kid in school.

'Ugh.'

Even his mother, whom he had a complicated relationship with due to their countless shouting matches and arguments that had her shaming him for being a disrespectful smart aleck (in not so many words), was the one person he was closest to than anyone else on earth.

Yes, even the closest person to him was never on the same page as him.

His mother. The woman who kept admonishing him for misbehaving and putting fear in his heart every time she grabbed a shoe or one of his father's belts (his gentle father himself never laid a hand on him) was also the person he interacted with the most.

Him and his family originally hailed from Makati but moved to Pasig around the EDSA (Epifanio de los Santos Avenue) Revolution. He could barely remember his time in Makati because he stayed there when he was 3 to 4 years old, and he only started really forming memories at around 4 years old.

He could barely remember anything about his previous residence in Makati except maybe that one time he allegedly fell down the stairs as a toddler.

He'd become acrophobic ever since that happened even though he could barely remember the event.

Every time he walked on an overpass or at the higher floors of the mall, he had to move himself far away from the railings and he never looked down, feeling a tingle from head to toe until he got back down to earth safely.

However, the phobia he had over heights was nothing compared to the dread he felt when going to school.

His family, the Galangs, arrived in Pasig around the time Manggahan Floodway... an artificially constructed waterway in Metro Manila... was first built.

He had spent most of his childhood in Pasig, watching his mother and father invest in half of a bungalow that they then slowly built into a whole house over the years by saving up for it.

His memories were hazy, but he did remember when he was about 6 or 7 years old that every Friday, from 7:00 to 7:30 PM, ABS-CBN Channel 2 would air the show, "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles".

TMNT originally aired in the U.S. from 1987 onwards while ABS-CBN went back on air in 1986, right after Ferdinand Marcos was deposed. ABS-CBN got the program later on at a time when local channels imported programs about 2-3 years late.

Nonetheless, he distinctly remembered watching it at that timeslot when he was a kid.

Even before that, he vaguely remembered watching programs of his youth that helped shaped him and his imagination, from Voltes V to Bioman and Maskman as well as Voltron and Saber Rider and the Star Sheriffs.

He remembered playing with clothespins and putting them together to form his own Voltron toy.

Programs that made him dream of a time he could become a hero himself, his imagination looking like a vague hodgepodge of pop culture references and shows he watched from childhood to his teenage years.

His father was a curious man. The Galangs had ashtrays all over the house but they were never used. He used to be a heavy smoker but he quit around the time Florante was born.

Florante never met the cigarette-smoking version of his dad, who judging from old pictures, was a thin hippie with long 1970s hair and pants to boot.

His Dad also regularly waited for him with their family car, a Mitsubishi Lancer, to take him home during the first few weeks of school. His school service wasn't ready yet and he didn't know how to commute to school as of yet.

To the good people of Pasig, his father was Engineer Galang. To Florante, he was the home tinkerer. He fixed everything in his home from leaky kitchen pipes to Florante's broken toys.

Even if was something as simple as super-gluing the broken arm of his toy Bioman toy... Blue 3, to be more specific... his father would do it.

It felt relaxing and comfortable to drive around with his father back and forth to school, but Florante took it too much for granted in retrospect. The man had office work to attend to as well.

Then again, Florante was a bit of a sheltered spoiled brat who didn't know how to commute to and from his home. He depended on his father or a school service to take him back to his residence.

Regardless, the jeepney service soon came through and his father was free to go straight to work instead of being bothered by driving his son from home to school and back again.

The thing Florante missed the most when being driven by his father was the small, inconsequential talks they had about life, school, and the future.

Small talk about what he wanted to do when he graduated high school, what his career would be, where his passion lay, and if his love of drawing and art could lead anywhere.

They also talked about what sort of games could or couldn't be played on his work laptop (Duke Nukem from Apogee, apparently). Or how Florante should stop sleeping with his work laptop in his room, replaying the Simpsons After Dark Screensaver program.

Or whatever happened to that floppy disk (the really big and floppy ones) he had containing a videogame involving a cat that might've been custom-made by one of his coworkers.

Florante also discussed with his father his dreams of becoming an animator who worked at Disney and the like.

He was even closer to one of his older sisters, the one closest to his age. The middle one. His other sister, the eldest of the three siblings, was the one with the strong, abrasive personality. The aloof eldest sister to her two younger siblings.

The middle sister was the one whom Florante talked to the most.

She was usually as meek and kind as a sheep yet sometimes as stubborn as a ram. She was the one he told his made-up stories about angels and demons. The plot he wanted to turn into his own comic book or manga or anime TV show.

He, like many other teenaged boys his age, wished he could draw or write his own stories. After reading snippets and summaries of Dante's Inferno and Milton's Paradise Lost, his mind went running wild regarding the prospect of a series about angels.

God's so-called messengers.

This was why he knew so much about the Four Archangels. He researched about them for the sake of writing his own (fan) fiction using "original" characters.

Sure, his middle sister might be patronizing him by listening to his puerile action stories of super-powered beings duking it out that she'd soon forget a day or two later, but he appreciated her effort in listening to him regardless.

Also, as lame as it sounded, making that story in his head into reality as a comic book or TV show (and making money off of it) was his biggest dream for the longest time. Again, it was a typical childhood fantasy from someone who regularly obsessed about cartoons and comics or anime and manga.

Meanwhile, he didn't have anyone to talk to at school at all. He had no friends at school. He was a friendless loser.

He could talk about almost everything to his father and sister. However, he couldn't talk about "that".

He wished he could talk to them about the bullying and shunning he suffered from school but he was too embarrassed to do so. He was already 14 years old. He should be able to handle things on his own by now.

How could he possibly reveal that he got bullied so bad that he had to act as his own snitch to the teacher just to get them to stop?

Had a teacher not seen the bullying firsthand and told his bullies to cut it out, he wouldn't even have the list as his means of mitigating the flow of abuse from what seemed like everyone.

Even then, he had a hard time making friends with any of his classmates regardless. His social life was dead. He could only make friends with his fellow "Dead Kids" and nothing more.

***

Fatima Grade School and High School of Mandaluyong was also right beside a church, since it was a Catholic school that was founded by Franciscan capuchins.

The church sat atop a hill with a steep, sloping road wherein cars can drive through. The parking area was at the foot of this hillside road. Right below the church was the back of the canteen—the kitchen area—and outside of it was a bricked walkway full of tall trees and what little dirt they were allowed to grow on.

The unexpected benefit of enrolling in Fatima School was the nearby shopping malls. They were within walking distance. Florante was no mallrat but he regularly made a beeline to these malls every dismissal time. He went there to kill time while waiting for his school service to take him home.

The actual entrance of the school was a narrow hallway with concrete pillars and seats enclosed within a chain link fence. The security guard's job was to check your I.D. before letting you inside. Right beside the walkway a separate glass door entrance to the Faculty Room and the Principal's Office for Fatima Grade School.

You needed to travel further within the campus, past the quadrangle, open-air basketball courts, tennis court, soccer field, and tree-lined park in order to reach the L-shaped high school building.

It rained that day, so he had to walk on the covered walkways to spare himself from the muddiness of the soccer field and the wetness of various puddles on the concrete ground.

It was a proper, well-funded private school. With the ached looks of his parents at the start of the year where they had to pay the tuition fee, Fatima should give them their money's worth.

Inside the high school building, beyond the muddy floor mat and within the vicinity of the hardworking custodians mopping up the soppy shoe prints of the milling students, everything was nice, warm, and dry.

Or it would've been nice, warm, and dry had the air not been so muggy. This sort of humidity was to be expected from the Philippine tropics.

What wetness he left behind on the floor mats he could feel from under his collar.

He had felt his breath gradually creep towards hyperventilation as he approached the door to his section. He then held his breath while following two of his classmates through the door.

At any rate, here he was. Back to hell he went.

There was mustiness from the hallway that reached all the way to the classrooms.

This gloomy air all around him reminded him of his first day in Fatima High. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

***

During his first day of school at Fatima High...

His enrollment into Fatima High School was a bureaucratic blur.

He had gone through the motions of waiting in line in a small, brightly lit office in order to get his papers containing his schedule before being directed to his classroom.

At the time, he pulled his hood over his face (he wore a hoodie since it was cold) as he walked through the dour campus full of milling, bright-eyed teenagers and kids, thankfully blending in with the rest of the crowd before being "outed" as a transfer student.

He was an introvert though, so he couldn't muster the courage to talk to any one of them as they all formed their little cliques and social circles.

Meanwhile, he ended up in the company of total strangers because he was the new kid in school.

Regardless, he used the map given to him at the faculty room along with instructions on how to get there.

He checked the room number on the paper slip that the office gave him, and then checked the names on the list pinned on the board hanging on the door. Sure enough, he found his name there.

This was the right classroom.

He took a deep breath (perhaps more of a prolonged sigh) before opening the door to his classroom.

The people in front of him were chatting it up, their school bags beside them. They had no lockers to speak of even though they were supposedly a private school.

He glanced at the multiple gatherings of unfamiliar faces, identifying only two of boys as students he'd seen during enrollment.

With a gulp, he held his own bag in his arms and clutched it close to his chest like a pillow. Or a security blanket. This was a move taught to him in order to avoid getting his bag snatched in places like Divisoria in Quiapo.

His eyes traveled further across the room, avoiding the gazes of the students around him and only looking directly at them if they were staring elsewhere. Otherwise, he ended up staring at the floor or his shoes instead while his head was bowed.

Since the first day of school was a time when the seating plan hadn't been planned out yet by their designated advisor, he silently searched for a seat at the back while other students who were a mix of graduates of Fatima Grade School and newbies like him started to mill inside their classroom like herded sheep.

It was there that he met her. A girl with silky long black hair and a shy smile.

The bell rang with such franticness that like in a game of "Trip to Jerusalem", he ended up sitting down on a seat right beside her.

***

Their homeroom teacher, some forgettable 40-year-old guy serving as their class advisor, did a roll call on everyone present.

He waited and raised his hand when his name was called. He then made a mental footnote to wait for the name of the girl beside him to get called.

Philippine private high schools, unlike those from the U.S., had classes held in the same classroom for the same section instead of multiple classrooms with assigned subjects and teachers.

It was the teachers that moved from section to section and room to room instead of the students. The latter setup where students went to Math or Science class was more of a college thing in the Philippine Islands.

In between classes and within the same room they'd been staying in the whole day, Florante attempted to chat up the pretty girl he ended up sitting beside with, first by introducing himself and then calling her by her name as revealed by their homeroom teacher.

Her name was Laura Reyes, by the way.

"So Mandaluyong is a lot different than Antipolo, huh?" he asked her after she mentioned where she was from. My, their school sure was a long way from her home!

"Very different," she said, not quite looking at him.

"The roads there go high up on an incline, right? Since you're near the mountains or something," he added, referring to the highlands where Antipolo was located. "Must be a long, tough commute."

"I guess," she replied vaguely. "Well, not really. It takes about 30 minutes if the traffic is clear. It's not that far away."

"Oh. Okay," he said before both went silent once more.

Uh-oh. He was running of topics to discuss with her. Dammit.

She wasn't quite giving him the cold shoulder, but she wasn't the one keeping the conversation going either.

Also, he couldn't believe Laura of all people didn't know about the tale of "Florante and Laura" by Francisco Baltasar or made the connection between their names when he joked about it earlier.

Or maybe it was for the best that she didn't, since making such references to a stranger you just met was kind of cringe-inducing.

Someone else cleared their throat. 'Her' throat.

"Hey, Laura!" said the bespectacled girl in front of them as she did a sideway glance at the two. "Who's your new friend?"

"Oh. Uh, this is... what's your name again? Flor?"

He sighed then said, "Florante."

He winced whenever people shortened his name like that. "Flor" was a girl's name, for goodness's sake!

"Oh, sorry. Florante it is." Laura smiled at Florante vaguely then turned towards the other girl. The cute one with the glasses.

Laura and the bespectacled girl had an easier time with their small talk, presumably because they attended the same grade school and weren't transfer students like he was.

He also couldn't help but feel like the other girl was giving him a wary side eye. He hoped it was his imagination. The last thing he wanted was to look creepy to the girls on the first day of school.

"...Nah, I'm staying with some relatives in Metro Manila," Laura replied to the nerdy girl asking her the same question Florante did earlier regarding the commute from Antipolo to Mandaluyong.

"Oh really? Cool. I'm from Makati," the nerdy girl replied.

Now wait a second. Why did Laura answer her question but when he asked the same thing, she didn't tell him about staying with relatives in Metro Manila? Ugh, this girl.

Beautiful as Laura was, she was also quite rude!

She didn't need to pretend to be nice to him. If she didn't want to talk to him, she could've just given him the cold shoulder like many of the girls from his old school!

"Hey, Flor!"

"It's Florante," he automatically corrected before noticing it was the girly nerd who beckoned him by name. "Uh, yeah. What is it?"

"Where are you from? What class were you back in Grade 7? Or are you an accelerant from Grade 6?"

"Accelerant?" he repeated. He was familiar with the term.

The girl later explained that when at Grade 6 or 12 years old, a student with good enough grades could skip Grade 7 and go straight to first year high school as an accelerant.

He clarified, "No, no. I'm a transfer student. This is my first day at Fatima."

"Right. Welcome to Fatima High, then!" the girl with the glasses said. "The name's Jenny, by the way. Jenny Tolentino. I'm an accelerant from sixth grade."

He nodded absently. "Florante Galang," he reintroduced himself to this mousy girl with short hair, noticing her baby doll face behind coke-rimmed glasses for the first time.

She looked of East Asian descent, but Florante couldn't for the life of him tell if she was part Chinese, Japanese, or Korean. Chinese was a safe bet.

***

The rest of the morning of his first day in school passed in the same fashion as before: With him engaging in awkward small talk with either Jenny or Laura that was interspersed with introductions, note-taking, and discussion of lesson plans galore.

The homeroom teacher had Florante, several other transfer students, and "accelerants" from Fatima Grade School introduce themselves in front of the class full of Grade 7 graduates who already had their own cliques and friends by now.

His social anxiety got him to stammer an introduction to the class, blush tomato-red, and trip over himself on his own two leather shoes as he made his way back to the seat.

He cringed and didn't meet Laura's eyes. He looked so uncool.

They then had their next class with a strict middle-aged woman for a mathematics teacher covering one of the most boring subjects of all time.

Their advisor and home economics teacher was a young woman straight out of college by the looks of it, dealing with her first teaching job and showcasing a strong aura of "substitute" teacher even though she wasn't one.

Her name was Cathy, if he recalled correctly. Or Miss (Cathy) Estrella. She was kind of cute, if a bit goofy and had a tendency to pronounce her Ls as Ws like Barbara Walters or Elmer Fudd.

After three classes had passed, he began recognizing several of the faces in their first-year section.

More and more people ended up talking to Laura even though she herself was an accelerant from the sixth grade amongst mostly seventh graders. She was particularly popular among the boys in the group: No surprises there.

Her beauty hadn't only caught Florante's eyes, apparently. The rest of the class's male population wanted to talk to her. Even the females wished to chat her up as well. She had that aura of friendliness around her.

There were several brave enough to ask her about how much she liked Fatima High so far and why she decided to go there instead of a school closer to Antipolo. Maybe even an all-girls school.

Most of her answers were mostly terse and diplomatic, like with him.

She did reveal to Jenny that she already went to an all-girls school in elementary, which was part of the reason why her parents had her transfer to a co-ed one: To help her become more prepared for a co-ed college life.

This then led him to curiously tell Jenny, "Hey, I thought Laura and you were accelerants with how buddy-buddy you two were acting. But didn't you say you were an accelerant?"

Jenny shrugged. "I am. But I met Laura earlier when our families came over to school and paid the tuition fee on the same day. She's a nice gal." She then whispered to him, "She's cute, isn't she?"

He turned away, his hand holding up his lightly blushing face while his elbow rested on his desk. "She's all right," he mumbled.

He heard Laura giggle at Jenny and say, "Hey, I'm right here! Don't talk behind my back!"

Jenny herself laughed. "No, we weren't! We were talking right in front of you! We don't backtalk! Right, Flor?"

Florante forced a smile at the Chinese-looking girl and nodded.

The Galang boy then got a better look at the nerdy Jenny. Aside from those huge tinted glasses that looked almost like goggles and seemed to belong in the 1970s, she had short, neck-length curly hair.

She wasn't bad looking herself.

She talked to both him and Laura in between subjects and lessons, but mostly to Laura, who at least talked to her in return and wasn't as evasive with her answers as she was to him or the other boys in class.

Jenny acted more like the nice girl she described Laura as, at least.

As for him, he could only smile and nod as she prattled on in between classes and teachers, telling Laura about the Fatima campus. He didn't try to keep up and figured he'd learn more about Fatima on his own.

During lunchtime, Florante ended up sitting at the far end of a full lunch table with Jenny and Laura along with several of their other new "friends", their classmates.

Florante forgot their names as soon as they spoke them, his mind focused more on Laura.

He debated to himself whether she was waving him off the same way she waved off the boys who were probably hitting on her back at their classroom.

One of their classmates, he did remember.

The one who brought up the "Florante and Laura" connection they had that made Florante's eyes light up, only for his shoulders to then slump when he turned and saw Laura tell the guy off, "Gross! Stop fooling around, Gerry! I just met him! C'mon, you're embarrassing Flor!" with a giggle.

'Gross'? Aw, come on, Laura!' Florante thought to himself, his heart sinking while he did a nervous chuckle at the cruel joke. Did he actually gross out Laura after all?

Laura and "Gerry", the jester who brought the "Florante and Laura" connection up, then laughed at the thought, all the while reassuring Galang that they were just kidding.

"No hard feelings, bro," said the tall guy named Geronimo "Gerry" (pronounced "Jerry") Jacinto who made the joke in the first place. Florante did his best to laugh things off, hiding his quivering lower lip with his hand.

Galang took a good look at the smart aleck who brought the subject up.

This person was the size of a tall rock with the mind of a sock. Comfortable to wear but once taken off, easily lost. He was also the kind of man who looked like he'd spent the last decade worrying about his penis size.

No, no, Florante was being needlessly mean to the jokester. He was big, tall, and had a huge head. Not exactly a good-looking guy but a witty and confident one. Also, among the boys there, he seemed to have the most rapport with Laura, if not the most memorable one of the bunch.

Gerry was more of a "Florante" to Laura than Florante was. Although they just met, they were already getting along famously.

On the bright side, he was glad he never made that Florante and Laura joke to break the ice with Laura.

As the chatterbox Jenny talked the ears off of the crowd of boys and girls surrounding Laura, the withdrawn Florante saw them arrive at the cafeteria.

"What are those weirdoes doing anyway?" someone at their table asked.

***

Sitting at the corner of the cafeteria, as far away as possible from where Florante Galang and Laura Reyes's group sat, were these pale-faced, dark, and brooding Fatima High students.

The term "Goth" was more of an American trend than a Philippines one, but that was the best way to describe these people.

'What was their problem?' Florante thought to himself. He wasn't the only one staring holes at those people though.

They weren't gawking at Laura, unlike most other students of the first year class of St. Francis of Assisi and even other classes.

Instead, everyone ended up gawking at them for a change, including Galang and Reyes.

By the way, in Fatima School, all of the sections were named after saints. Florante belonged to First Year St. Francis. As for those other people, he overheard Jenny stage whisper to Laura, "They're from St. Valentine, right?"

One of Gerry's friends confirmed, "Yeah, some of them belong to St. Valentine," referring to First Year St. Valentine of Rome.

There were five of them, four boys and one girl. They weren't talking to each other. They weren't eating either, with each of them holding trays of untouched food.

Apropos of nothing, Galang noticed they were an eclectic and diverse group from multiple high school years.

The shortest male of these Fatima students had spiky hair standing up like a black bush or a shadowy fire. He was also the most boyish one of the group.

Another one, the girl, had hair in a bun with side bangs as long as her back ponytail. She was about the same height as the bush-haired boy and had an almost elfish or pixie-like quality to her smallish face, body, and gait.

Still another, the one with the tanned skin and brusque physique, had shades colored light enough for him to claim they were glasses. Not only did he wear shades indoors—he also sported a jacket indoors too.

The happiest, smiley-faced one of them with the long, thick hair just also happened to be the palest one of the group, even though both the girl and the "midget" boy had alabaster skin themselves. He also looked like a serious weightlifter for someone supposedly so young.

Finally, there was the really tall, lanky young man. Taller than Gerry. Skinny as a rail yet as tall as a basketball player. Maybe 6'9". Maybe even seven feet. He might as well be eight feet high from the looks of him and his lengthy arms and feet.

Look at the height of that human being. If he was a human being.

However, there were in the Philippines with a height average of 5'1" so he was probably just 6'5" or something.

He definitely didn't appear like a high school student for sure. More like their guardian or butler. "He looks old for a freshman," remarked Florante.

Gerry himself corrected, "Tanga (Stupid)! Only the midget and girl are from St. Valentine. The rest are from different years. Celestino is a fourth year student."

Florante frowned but did not dare glare at the bigger Jacinto.

Instead, he repeated the name, "Celestino..." as his words trailed off while he stared the tallest student of the weird bunch.

Now that he got a better look at him, he identified that this Celestino person had half-Caucasian or "mestizo" features.

He might not even be half but full Caucasian by how white he was and how sharp his nose got.

He might even be of Spanish descent, which was a sought-after attribute among Filipinos, whether they wanted narrow noses that were "matangos" as opposed to flat noses or "pango".

It rooted from the colonial days of the Philippines when it was a colony of Spain for 300 years then of the United States of America for almost 50 years. The foreigners intermarried with the natives, and their half-white, half-Spanish, or half-American offspring tended to be treated better than the rest by society.

It came to the point that looking like a mestizo by surgery and skin whitening procedures resulted in better treatment by everyone else at large, which in turn led to such appearances being part of the standards of Philippine beauty.

It was "Colonial Mentality" in action, if you would.

Then again, if Celestino hadn't been born with that (Spanish?) family name of his, Florante would've sworn he picked that name himself because it sounded cool.

Speak of the devil, as Galang said the name, Celestino suddenly met eyes with him.

Celestino initially had shut eyes that opened into narrow slits and seemed to glow underneath his bangs that formed a curtain of hair over his face.

Florante balked at the tall, scary dude with gangly limbs and a weird stringy hairstyle that parted to the side and formed a bobcut with hair moving outwards from his head like antennae, giving his head a diamond shape.

Celestino looked at Jenny for a second before his sharp eyes flickered back to Florante.

Florante looked away first, a flush of crimson embarrassment making him drop his eyes with a shudder.This also had him almost bump into Gerry, who then jibed, "Oooh, does someone have a little crush on him?" with a pat in his back like the asshole that he was.

Jenny herself giggled with an unsure smile, looking at Florante as she asked, "You okay, Flor?"

Galang nodded to Tolentino with a nod. When the ruckus was over and people stopped staring at the strange "circus" troupe, Florante stole glances at all the five strange high school students.

Aside from the shortest kid of their group and the pale-faced girl, the rest of them looked like they could be college students instead of high school ones, or even outright teachers around the same age as Ms. Estrella. Or even older.

Even the shorter people of their group looked a bit too old to be freshmen or high schoolers. Like they were 30-year-old actors playing the role of teenagers in a Hollywood high school movie or something.

Just as they were different they were also the same in a strange way.

They were walking contradictions of themselves in terms of their inhumanly beautiful appearance that verged on the uncanny.

Uncanny because they looked like the airbrushed or manipulated photographs on a fashion magazine. Or walking paintings from the Renaissance. Perhaps even sculptures shaped from marble, silver, or bronze.

Aside from the tanned "moreno" or "kayumanggi" one that served as the black sheep in their white-fleeced herd, they shared chalk-pale alabaster skin that bordered on being albino, dark eyes with shadows underneath them, and gangly limbs that matched them more with each other than their high school uniforms.

They looked like they hadn't slept a wink for weeks or months. In fairness, all five shared perfect, straight, and angular features carved straight from marble.

Who did they remind Florante of?

"They look like The Addams Family," whispered Gerry to his friends, which had them erupt in laughter.

To Galang's chagrin, he agreed with Gerry. Took the words right out of his mouth, even.

He himself might've said, "Children of the Corn", but he doubted that present company would even be familiar with such a reference.

However, their appearances weren't the reason why Florante couldn't look away from them.

He felt something familiar about them. Déjà vu, perhaps?

They group of five then looked away from them. From all those stares.

They looked away from one another and from the other students. Like there was a bird or a plane in the distance that caught their attention had there not been a wall or a ceiling obstructing their view of the sky.

The girl rose from her seat, her tray of untouched food and unopened soda remaining still as she walked away with a stride and sashay of a model before she glided up the steps of the exit, her silhouette across the light permeating from the outside creating ghostly afterimages behind her.

Florante's eyes darted back to the four remaining males, who sat like statues or students posing for a group picture. Unmoving. Like the famous painting of The Last Supper at another angle.

After a couple of more minutes, all four of them left the table altogether in unison. They strode with the grace of dancers or athletes, including the muscular one.

The one named Celestino never looked at Florante's way again. Like he was a bug who was below his notice.

He'd later learn their names. The short guy and girl of the same age were fraternal twins: Kalantiaw and Dalisay Hidalgo.

The bronze-skinned one with the shades was known as Alonzo Estanislao. The extra pale, extra jacked one with the creepy smile and caveman hair was named Jacob "Benjo" Benjamin.

Finally, the tallest, lankiest, and oldest one of them was called Francisco "Kiko" Celestino.

What strange, old-timey names. The nicknames sounded about as goofy, cutesy, and silly as a typical Filipino nickname, but the actual names themselves sounded old. Almost ancient.

From the Year "Nineteen Kopong-Kopong", almost. Or a time before the Philippines went from a Spanish colony to an American colony.

***

Florante Galang remembered how his eyes flickered back and forth from his worn leather shoes to the table where those five weirdoes sat during his first day of school at Fatima High.

He wanted to learn more about those—for lack of a better term—Gothic or Goth kids who wore jackets and trench coats in the tropics unironically.

They didn't have a name for their "gang", but the rest of the school did.

They were called the Dead Kids mostly to make fun of them and their cringy, pretentious lifestyle. Like the way they sat around and didn't really eat during lunchtime.

He wanted to ask more questions about the Dead Kids and their gangly cult leader Celestino, but both Laura and Jenny were themselves newcomers to the school and Gerry intimidated him.

He'd eventually get additional information about them through word of mouth and small talk from the rest of his classmates as the rest of the school year unfolded.

Like info on whether or not they'd always lived in Metro Manila, Mandaluyong City, Cainta City, Quezon City, or Pasig City all this time. Maybe they moved from Makati to Pasig like his family did.

They'd apparently been around since last year. They were transfer students.

Last year, Celestino was immediately moved to his third year in high school, Estanislao and Benjamin entered first and second year respectively, and the fraternal Hidalgo twins joined them only this year as freshmen in high school.

Because the Galangs themselves recently moved to Pasig, Florante was unaware of how recently Celestino himself moved in town.

Rumors had it that they were all foreign exchange students, hence their half-foreign looks. The only one who remotely looked native Filipino was Estanislao.

The rest looked like the typical half-Chinese, half-American, half-Latino, or half-European models Florante would see on television. Come to think of it, the tan Estanislao could be half-Mexican or half-Moroccan for all he knew.

After all, the Philippines was itself a melting pot of cultures, with it being a colony of both Spain and America for years. Even centuries, in the case of Spain.

Regardless, he felt a curious surge of relief and pity for these beautiful people. As pretty as they appeared, they were considered as the outsiders of Fatima High. They were perhaps even ostracized or bullied by the rest of the student body.

Something that Florante could relate to.

The way the people around them reacted to their strange mannerisms reminded Florante of how people back in grade school treated him for being such an asthmatic crybaby.

He was relieved he wasn't the only newcomer in Fatima. And he wasn't the most interesting spectacle among all the newcomers to arrive in the high school either, so everyone's bullying was more "spread out" and such.

Thank goodness.

As the first quarter of the school year neared to a close, Galang started moving predictably further and further away from the Reyes and Jacinto group for various reasons.

He started eating more and more by himself instead of their group.

He could barely talk to any of those quick-witted smart alecks, except maybe Jenny, who probably talked to him out of pity or to help him save face. Or maybe because she was just that talkative.

During one of those numerous lonely lunch breaks, as he gazed as the supposed Dead Kids, he froze as one of them... Kalantiaw this time around... looked up and met his gaze.

At the time, Florante was actually staring at the cute wallflower Dalisay, who did remind him of Wednesday Addams from the Addams Family, only for him to get caught snooping by a set of sharp, angry eyes of a certain midget brother. The Pugsley to Dalisay's Wednesday.

Those eyes shooed him away from staring any further at the cute Goth chick sister.

Dalisay's twin brother didn't appreciate all his staring. If looks could kill, the short boy with bushy hair had flying daggers for eyes.

'Ow, the edge.' What would that midget do to him anyway? Chop him to bits? Burn him to ash? All with a stare? Jeez.

As sarcastic as Florante's thoughts were, he still stood down from the stare down like the little bitch that he was.

Come to think of it, what sort of name was "Kalantiaw" anyway? It was almost as pretentious of a name as Celestino, but at least Celestino was a family name that was passed down for generations.

Kalantiaw's parents didn't have the common sense to pick a better name for their son that wouldn't lead to teasing and bullying.

Ah, but Florante quickly realized that wasn't one to speak about being called names, teasing, or bullying. It wasn't as if he could pick on the shorter kid in real life or anything: Only in his mind.

As his wandering eyes returned to the group, he noticed that Estanislao was also staring at him. his glance holding some sort of unmet expectation.

'Oh no, not this again,' he thought, afraid of a confrontation with the Dead Kids.

He quickly ate the rest of his lunch when he should've eaten the rest of the bitter words swirling inside his head, deciding to wander around the bleachers or the tree park near the children's library where he sometimes hung out (alone) as well.

However, the lithe and agile Estanislao caught up with him.

"AH!" Florante yelped.

"Hey, you know it's rude to stare, right?" Alonzo said to Florante.

Galang gulped, stuttering, "S-Sorry, I won't do it again!" cringing as he said the words.

The taller second year student with sunglasses smiled at the shy kid. "I heard of what happened to you and your classmates. Must have been rough, huh?"

Florante's lower lip trembled, his gaze not meeting Estanislao's, only for him to meet the piercing stare of Kiko Celestino.

The "leader" of the Dead Kids had the strangest expression on his face. A furious, almost hostile one. What did Florante do to deserve such a look?

He noticed that Celestino's eyes were as pitch black as midnight in the deeper parts of the province. In places where urban development had not yet started and electrical posts, much less lamps, were at least 30 minutes away.

Bewildered, Florante looked away again in time to almost stumble face-first into the canteen floor. He caught himself with the assistance of Alonzo grabbing him by his arm.

"Whoops. Careful there, kiddo," the shades-sporting lad said. Strangely enough, Florante could hear the "grin" in his voice. "You don't want to add ammo to all your classmates' teasing of you, do you?"

Unbidden, a flashback of him playing alone in the playground while the basketball varsity team snickered at him miming Rambo putting on his red bandanna flashed in his head, making him shudder and cringe.

A basketball varsity team that included the promising tall freshman, Gerry Jacinto.

He shouldn't have done it anyway. He looked stupid, playing by himself, pretending to be Rambo in the intro of his cartoon series (he never saw the actual R-rated movies).

"SorryIwon'tdoitagain," he mumbled in one breath, apologizing once more just short of doing a Japanese bow and backing away.

"No need to apologize for that," Estanislao reassured, letting go of Galang before lowering his polarized sunglasses and giving him a cheesy wink. "But remember, Flor Contemplacion, I've got dibs on Hidalgo's sister."

"I wasn't...!" Florante said, wondering how he knew his name (kind of) when this was the first time they had talked, but Alonzo cut him off.

"You sure, Flor? Hidalgo caught you staring. Better watch out for him. And me."

As the Dead Kids again left as a unit and barely dug into their lunches, Florante surprised himself by calling out to Estanislao, "My name is not Flor! It's Florante!"

'Flor is a girl's name,' he added to himself.

***

As luck would have it—whether it was bad or good luck was anyone's guess—Florante ended up in the same club as three of the Dead Kids.

He had decided to be part of the Art Club for this school year.

The others elected to go to other clubs like the Computer Club or the Science Club. There was even a Literature Club, which was where Benjo and Kiko ended up in.

Oh sorry. Benjamin and Celestino. Why was he thinking of them in such familiar terms? He barely knew them.

Regardless, the Hidalgo twins and Estanislao ended up in the same club as Galang.

The thing about high school clubs was that anyone could join them regardless of their year. Whether they were freshmen, sophomores, juniors, or seniors (or first to fourth year) of high school, they could mingle in one class as long as they passed the initial exam.

The Art Club had the motherly figure of Mrs. Marisol Mancenido as their advisor. She looked 20 years young even though she was actually forty-something.

Her approach to proctoring the Art Club was encouraging, hands-off, and motivational.

Her "detractors" would probably claim she was too soft on the kids with the way she babied them and let them do anything they wanted in the Art Club for the sake of their "creative freedom", but she had no such detractors at Fatima High.

Everyone in the high school loved Mrs. Mancenido. She was like a Filipina Julie Andrews mixed with a young Gloria Romero.

She was the nicest teacher Florante had ever met. This was probably why he ended up in the Art Club in the first place despite having no talent in art to speak of.

It was his way to get away from First Year St. Francis. Away from the withering, cold looks that Laura gave to him after she rejected his romantic advances.

How embarrassing.

After all the nice things he'd done for her, like help her with errands like getting her photographs developed or hold her lunch tray out for her, she ended up rejecting him.

If she never saw him that way, then why'd she take advantage of him and turn him into her gopher or something? It wasn't fair.

Then again, the only connection he had with Laura was that their first names coincidentally matched the names of the romantic couple in a Filipino literary classic. The Philippine equivalent of Romeo and Juliet.

With that in mind, he found himself longing for the companionship of another female. Perhaps another one who'd also reject his advances, but at least she was much nicer about it than Laura.

Ah yes. Dalisay Hidalgo.

The Goth chick with the surprisingly soft-spoken voice.

He introduced himself to her in the clubroom one day, saying, "Hey, I'm Florante Galang. I'm from Section St. Francis."

She looked at him and nodded with a thin-lipped not-smile, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "Hello. I'm Dalisay Hildago. From St. Valentine."

"Oh okay. Hi."

"...."

So he barely knew Dalisay and it was apparent by their awkward silences when together.  

Perhaps starting with a more platonic relationship with Dalisay was in order, yes? He should learn from his mistakes with Laura. He was never popular with the pretty girls. They found him either too wimpy or too creepy.

However, an obvious obstacle kept him from getting close to Dalisay.

First, there was her overprotective brother Kalantiaw. Second, there was another guy from their "friend circle" who was also after her.

They should lay off of him, man. He only wanted to be friends with Dalisay, for goodness's sake.

'Susmaryosep,' he thought, remembering the way his mother would say the same thing whenever she was frustrated before he continued with the current Art Club activity they had for that day.

They had to make their own painting using watercolors. He frowned at the way he used too much water, nearly ripping the bond paper he painted on.

Meanwhile, Dalisay's brush strokes were all clean and perfect, like her. The way she instead used black-colored paper and white paint was a stroke of genius on her part.

Nevertheless, he kept concentrating on his work and stopped himself from peeking occasionally from the screen of his hair bangs at the mysterious yet lovely girl next to him.

This was because during the whole class, he could feel the same girl's brother not relax from his stiff position on the edge of his seat, sitting as far away from them as possible yet telescopically staring holes at them like a hawk hovering over his prey.

A tiny hawk but a hawk nonetheless. Or an angry rustling black bush.

He then peeked at Kalantiaw, regretting his decision immediately.

His crimson eyes glared back, making him feel like a newspaper left out in the rain. A messy sopping pulp not even fit for wrapping around dried tinapa (Filipino smoked fish).

As he flinched away from the male Hidalgo, slinking back against his chair's backrest, Mr. Cool Kid with the tan complexion and sunglasses lounged right behind them (since there was no set seating plan).

Alonzo Estanislao was quite... smiley that day for some reason.

What an insufferable bunch. Was it too much to ask for him to make friends with one pretty girl?

The school bell then loudly rung, which made him jump. From there, the trio of Dead Kids was out of their seats. They fluidly rose and turned in their work to Mrs. Mancenido.

He stared blankly at them, with Dalisay giggling at whatever weird remark Alonzo said, only for the taller kid with sunglasses to strangely reel back from the glaring short, petulant kid brother between them.

They barely talked to Florante and yet he felt more comfortable around them than he did most of his classmates in St. Francis of Assisi.          

He had his suspicions on his first day of school, but the first-year class he ended up in was a whole class full of bullies and class clowns. Galang was more often than not always the butt of their jokes. Especially when it came to Gerry Jacinto.

Gerry made fun of everything about Florante, from the way he dressed with an unironed uniform to his old undershirt being practically see-through and threadbare that one time they were changing to their P.E. uniforms during gym class.

Jacinto was so mean. It wasn't fair.

Florante felt more at ease at the Art Club than in his own class and with his classmates.

Regardless, he started gathering his things and turn in his own almost finished work.

He suppressed the anger and frustration that filled him inside, fearing that his eyes would tear up and then one or several of his classmates would notice their redness, leading to more bullying and teasing.

Or he tried his best to do so. For whatever reason, his tear ducts were linked to his temper, which made his angry outbursts come off as tantrums.

He had no other outlet for his resentment. Dammit.

***

In fairness, it was kind of his fault why the boys (and it was mostly boys) from his section were bullying him extra hard.

The outcast of First Year Section St. Francis ended up doing something he shouldn't have done to their class idol Laura Reyes earlier that year

He cringed, wishing again that the ground would swallow him up as he remembered the embarrassing thing he did.

One of his bullies dared him to draw Laura from memory, which in and of itself wasn't so bad. However, in his desperation to win over his classmates, he ended up drawing her in the nude.  

Well, that wasn't exactly what happened. Perish the thought.

They had dared him to do it and he teased doing it by drawing a rough sketch with blocky shapes for her body that looked nude but was actually just how artists "built" a drawing through sketching.

Like drawing a circle first before drawing the rest of the face. Or drawing a "nude" body first before drawing the clothes.

However, one of them told (snitched to, really) Laura about it and she caught him red-handed with what looked like him drawing her nude.

"Ew. That's gross, Flor. Stop that."

"N-No! You got it all wrong, Laura! It's not what it looks like...!"

No amount of frantic explanation was enough to keep Laura from thinking Florante was a disgusting pervert, and he even had to explain himself at the principle's office afterwards when several teachers got involved in the mess.

Naturally, the many admirers of Laura Reyes dog-piled him for his cringe-inducing antics, even though it was all his bullies' fault for making him draw Laura nude and then telling on him.

Ever since then, his bullying got so bad that he had to list off names of those who bullied him to get some of his teachers to intervene.

His listing of names mitigated the bullying but made making friends in his classroom or outside of the Dead Kids difficult due to his reputation as being a snitch.

He was looked down upon for snitching on bullies he couldn't fight back against.

***

He wished he was dead. To end his suffering.

If only he could die in the place of someone else. Someone he loved. Like family or friends. Even a lover. A girlfriend. At least that would've been something noble. He'd be a hero. Instead of a bully victim.

What if he died for nothing? What worth would his life be then?

If he were to die now, he wished he could die a nobler death.

However, from his experience of having deaths in his family, death was almost always sad or embarrassing. Nothing remotely romantic, gallant, or dignified about it.

Also, a lonely, sheltered teenaged boy like him had no one to love romantically, to be honest. He barely had friends at his new school, even.

He should've never moved from one school to another. If only his old grade school had a high school to graduate to. It just got worse, though.

For most of the first and second quarter of the school year, he opted to sink deeper and deeper into his Art Club activities with his kind-of friends (more like acquaintances)  known to the rest of the school campus as the Dead Kids.

The Art Club tasked them to do any sort of major project for the class as their final test, be it a children's book or comics. Florante opted for comics.

He drew the comics on his sketchbook. On the back of his notebook. On any sheets of paper he could get his hands on. He copied characters and backgrounds from published comic books and posters before he felt confident enough to create designs of his own.

He mixed and matched the clothes he copied from his big sisters' fashion magazines unto the characters he made that he based on the shows he watched and the people he interacted with.

He even drew comics made of stapled-together scratch bond paper from used printouts, drawing at the blank parts of the paper with pencil sketches and panels made with rulers and whatnot.

Not just for the Art Club. But for himself. For fun. For the attention it got him every time he drew someone's favorite anime or cartoon character.

He even featured some of his, well, acquaintances, and classmates in the scratchy, sketchy comics he made with sparse backgrounds and honestly questionable anatomy.

It was his only way of connecting with people, since he was such a socially awkward kid.

Because they belonged in a quite religious high school founded and funded by Franciscan Capuchins, the superheroes and protagonists of the comics Florante made were all based on Christian mythology, particularly about angels.

He got the idea of making comics about angels one day after reading "Paradise Lost". Or the condensed CliffNotes study guide version of it since he didn't have a copy of the original book and he found reading passages of the poem to be quite boring.

It was part of the series of CliffNotes available in Fatima High's library, which also included novels like "The Pearl" and "Canterbury Tales".

Inside "Paradise Lost" (or its complete summary, at the very least), he learned about the four most famous angels. Archangels, to be exact.

He fell in love with the idea of angels battling demons through the centuries, from the infancy of man to the present.

He also read about demons since every angel needed a demon to fight, right? Even though demons and angels were two sides of the same coin.

He then incorporated many of his classmates in his comics. He even dreamed of them becoming angels and demons in his so-called works.

Some of the characters were his friends, the Dead Kids. Others were his acquaintances and classmates he knew of but barely interacted with. Many of them were his bullies portrayed as antagonists. As demons.

It served as his way of coping. His only method of venting.

He dreamed of the stories concerning all of them in their angel and demon forms and then put them to paper. Even though some of the girls in his class chided him for drawing girls with huge boobs and questionable anatomy.

His quaint little comics served as his dream journal of sorts. His bullies ended up becoming the demon antagonists of his made-up stories, even though he never revealed their names or drew them too accurately enough for them to notice his use of their likenesses in his works.

His comics was one of the ways he dealt with the constant bullying he got from his classmates or even his so-called friends that treated him more as their mascot or gopher for drinks and odd errands than an actual comrade.

They were treating him no different than Laura did, actually.

***

Back to the relative present...

Tonight, Florante dreamed.

He dreamed of doing things he normally couldn't do. Out of wishful thinking. Dissatisfaction. Despair. Hope.

He did it to vent his real-life frustrations elsewhere.

It was during these dreams that his innermost desires were realized. Embarrassing ones he couldn't verbalize since it involved admitting to himself some shameful things.

Like the fact that he didn't have any friends in his classroom. Or the fact that he felt more like a gopher than a friend to the Dead Kids, who were supposed to be his fellow weirdoes, in his desperate bid to belong.

Or the fact that he was one of the most heavily bullied or perhaps the most heavily bullied kid in their class. A "Dead Kid" in his own right.

Regardless, his dreams served as painkillers or Novocain to his bitter, nerve-wracking reality of loneliness and despair as a friendless outcast in his own school.

He was the new kid on the block who couldn't adjust to his new school, but then again he was also bullied back in his old school as well.

Tonight, he could pretend to be "normal" for once, while his brain had clocked out and his consciousness drifted to slumber, his tears staining his pillows at memories he tried to block out.

Traces of these traumatizing past events remained in his psyche, as evidenced by the things that he dreamed about. This allowed him to connect the dots on why he was dreaming what he dreamed.

For example, the beautiful visage of Dalisay Hidalgo quickly crossed his mind, with her smiling at him and actually talking to him while ignoring her brother and Alonzo.

Like that would ever happen. But it was a harmless dream, so it was okay for him to indulge in his fantasies.

She looked so cute. Like an angel, really. A Gothic Lolita angel with a defiant fashion sense that rebelled against their plain school uniform of plaid skirts and cotton button-down blouses.

She was much nicer than Laura, whom he once unwittingly sang a sarcastic happy birthday to thinking it was her gay best friend's birthday instead. When he found out it was her birthday instead, he wished that the ground would swallow him whole.

He inwardly cringed. She must've thought of him as such a loser.

He also dreamed what any 14-year-old boy would dream about.

He dreamed about girls. He dreamed about romance. He dreamed about naughty things.

However, in between those dreams of passion and desire were dreams about his countless regrets.

He dreamed that his bullies would leave him alone. He dreamed about getting real friends, or at least getting closer to the so-called Dead Kids. Even they seemed ashamed of hanging out with him, and they were the school's designated weirdo group!

He dreamed of never doing that cringy thing with drawing Laura's face and placing it unto a nude body (or a rough sketch of one) like some sort of thirsty stalker.

He dreamed that Laura would forgive him or realize what had happened between them was a simple misunderstanding.

He dreamed of him and her becoming friends instead of her giving him the cold shoulder since that fateful day.

He dreamed that they'd fall in love, get married, have babies, and die old together.

Even if none of those dreams happened, he still wanted to become a normal high school kid that wasn't the butt of everyone's jokes, dammit!

But tonight, his dream was different.

More intense. Stranger. Like it wasn't a dream at all.

But somehow, he was aware it was all a dream. A lucid dream, perhaps?

Regardless, it was in this dreamscape where he acted upon his most violent fantasies. He was in control of himself and the events surrounding him this time around, so he got to boss around his bullies for once.

He did in the dream things he couldn't do in real life or even draw in his comics against the so-called demons of his life.

He punished them. Humiliated them.

He then murdered them. He had the power to do so now. In his dream, he had the same powers as the protagonist of his comics. The power of a lightning storm or one of those raging typhoons that regularly battered the Philippines.

Better he do it within the confines of a dream than in real life, right? He could "vent" better that way. It was a healthy, therapeutic method of venting.

However, when he woke up, his dream became horrible reality.

What he had taught had happened during midnight in his dreams had instead occurred in the early morning while classes were supposed to be going on.

He looked down and saw that his hands were covered in blood. Not his own.

'...Eh? What's going on?'

Right before him were the bodies of people on the floor. Many of them his classmates. Some of them not. Several of them burning to a crisp. Like something out of Pompeii when Mount Vesuvius erupted.

'Susmaryosep!'

Wait, what had happened here?

No, he hadn't woken up! He was still dreaming, right? This was all a nightmare!

He then saw her.

The angelic winged beauty made of floating water that reminded him of one of the four most famous angels appeared before him.

She was a breathtakingly gorgeous, angelic woman. Or the huge statue of one brought to life. She looked really familiar, though.

Faintly, as if his half-awake mind was still dreaming in shock and in pure disbelief of what had happened, he wondered what the person before him reminded him of.

He was at the mercy of a terribly beautiful sight from the ether, her strands of hair flowing upwards like they were underwater or a bonfire, her fingertips engulfed in dancing tendrils of water.

Looking at her was like dying from a siren's song, but more visually impactful rather than visceral. So like staring straight into the sun. Or Medusa's eyes.

Except this time, Medusa was an attractive young woman instead of a monster with snakes for hair.

"This is the end of the line for you. I won't let you hurt anyone else, Flor. Prepare to die."

Man, his mind was such a mess. How did he get there? What happened? Who was this beautifully horrifying creature? This biblical angel?

Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Azrael.

Or was it Uriel?

Anyway, those were the Four Archangels, right?

...Right?

***

To Be Continued...

The first chapter is finally done. My first completely original work not based on someone else's idea. I've had this title and this work in my head since the 1990s. I'm glad I now have the opportunity to make it into reality.

Farewell, Abdiel

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in Incrimination: Chapter 8

Authors’ Note: TGIF!!! Time to get back to what is going on with Rafael and see how he is fairing in Rikers. Perhaps a surprise visit from someone unexpected...read on to find out who!! Once again @rauliskafan love and appreciate the feedback you all give us!!! So keep it coming! :)

When this is all done, I’ll know how a case feels from every side. Might make me a better lawyer.

It was a lesson that he could have lived without.

“Rafael!”

Hearing Liv’s voice, Rafael whipped his head over his shoulder and watched her palm flatten against the air. The uniform leading him to some unknown fate took a small step back, and he inched towards the lieutenant, listening quickly as she spoke with a speed to rival his usual tones.

“Cutter can’t be swayed,” she started. “He’s concerned about the press.”

“But obviously not me,” Rafael replied, feeling his eyes roll as she touched his arm.

“He’s having you arraigned in night court. After that…”

“I know what comes next, Liv,” he said, cutting her off. “Natalia…”

“I can give her a ride to the courthouse.”

“No!” he said, a lump catching in his throat as he leaned closer. “I don’t want her to… Fin’s going to take her home. She needs to get back to the girls. To get away from…”

His voice gave out, the lump strangling his speech and his eyes blinking as they stared into hers.

“Rafael, I am so sorry,” Liv said. “Seeing you like this… it makes me sick.”

“Not doing much better from this side of the scene,” he replied as he lifted his shackled wrists, and she seemed on the verge of too many tears.

“We don’t have much time,” Liv told him.

“I know,” he answered. “Mike? What’s going to happen to him?”

“Not my call,” she admitted. “His father is furious.”

“I’ve put you in a bad spot all around,” he admitted.

“Rafael, I don’t care about that.”

“I do,” he said. “Steer clear of this, Liv. Don’t let it get any worse.”

“But I want to---”

“Just stay safe, Liv,” he said. “I’ll take care of myself.”

She looked ready to say something else when he straightened up and forced a smirk, wanting this to be like any other sidebar even as the difference was as bright as the red and blue lights flashing behind him.

“That better be a promise that you keep, Rafael,” she said before she was called back into the thick of it and had to turn on her heel.

Then she was gone. And for the first time in a long time, he felt truly alone.

The ride from the squad was cloaked in darkness with no way of knowing if he was still in the city or even this century. His wrists began to ache, but the pain of leaving Natalia was far worse. He had tried to look at her for as long as possible before he was hauled away. Naturally, he would see her again. At some point. But an uneasy rumbling sat like a jagged rock in the pit of his stomach.

No one was ever arraigned so quickly, no man, woman or minor ever sent to Rikers with such speed under the shadow of the moon. Cutter had his reasons, and in less than an hour, after another ride deeper into the abyss, Rafael Barba went from an ADA to a convict, a name to a number. It wasn’t just the three-piece suit swapped out for an ill-fitting orange costume. It was the looks as he was marched past other prisoners, having to appear out of place, and fearing that some of the many he had worked to put behind these same sets of bars were now out for his blood.

“Lights out, Barba.”

A shiver ran up his spine when the guard used his name, and Rafael tried to settle into the battered cot, covering his eyes with one arm to ward off the moon that glowed like ice through the palest set of stars. Try as he might, he could not block out the barriers now keeping him so far from home…

…or the sounds of the whispers bouncing off the thick walls, crawling out of unmarked graves with the most wicked laughter.

Barba?

That the sex lawyer?

Pretty boy ain’t looking so fine now.

He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.

His arm slipped from his face, and Rafael tried to tune out the noise, the threats, curling to his side and imagining that he was home, with his hermosa flor. In his mind, his most fervent fantasies, her fingers threaded through his hair, her lips lightly against his temples, and her whisper a warm wind chasing the gray clouds away. But as the night dragged on, the constant threats mingled with inside joke sent his memory deeper into yesterday. To the nights when he tossed and turned as bullies’ voices echoed in his brain… to his father’s looks of disgust, his brutal hands only adding to the bruises already covering his body. His mother had tried and failed… did she even know what was happening to him now?

Come morning, Rafael was bleary-eyed and broken. Grateful for the first time in his life that a shower was delayed, he felt on edge in the cafeteria, sitting alone with a plastic tray of inedible food. His eyes constantly darted in every direction as he played with the meager meal. With the whispers assigned to faces, he swore he saw long ago defendants sitting at every other table. But when some of the sideways glances left the room for this or that work duty, he was left forgotten with his paltry plate. A wave of fresh memories washed over him, the short, strange kid abandoned while others made friends. Yes, there was Eddie… even thinking of Alex did his soul some good in that second. But he was slipping back into his singular brand of solitary confinement, the days when even his supposed success did nothing to let him believe in so-called lights at the ends of impossibly long tunnels.

Instinctively, he reached into an unfamiliar pocket for his phone. Because he wanted Natalia, wanted to hear her voice and let it be the lifeline to drag him out of this pit. One word from her lips would give him a glimpse of the light and let him believe in the fairy tale living in her eyes.

“Got a visitor, Barba.”

The same guard from the previous night had him on his feet the second he realized, remembered where he was, that his phone was locked away in another steel cage.

“A visitor?” he echoed.

“That’s what I said.”

Trying to ignore the frost in the guard’s tone, Rafael followed the other man’s lead as he dumped out the contents of his untouched tray. Fin took her home; the last thing he wanted was Natalia watching from the gallery, listening to the charges leveled against him. But now, after just one night separated from her side, he found himself desperate to see her, hoping---

“Let’s shake a fucking leg!”

The guard shoved him, the memories that had nearly swallowed him whole threatening to make like a merciless waterfall pouring over the edge of his brain. Somehow, he kept walking. Soon there would be Natalia, only Natalia, nothing but Natalia, and---

“Good morning, Mr. Barba.”

Stopping in his tracks, stunned, he narrowed his eyes and saw a tall woman with icy eyes and a mass of curls spilling over her shoulders. Before he found the strength to move, he endured a rough push from the guard and stumbled towards the nearest chair.

“Steady on!” the woman said in a clipped tenor. “We won’t have that on my watch.”

Bending at the waist, the guard gave the unexpected visitor a mocking bow, a sarcastic salute, and started back to the door.

“Apologies, Ms. Pond,” the guard said. “I’ll leave you and your… client to it.”

The door slammed shut, and Rafael trained his eyes on the woman, watching her sink into the opposing chair, silencing her phone with one hand and extending the other until he shook it in an instant of realization.

“Miranda Pond,” Rafael said.

“So you are familiar with me,” she smiled.

“I’ve heard your name… from Liv…” His speech stalled as he finally sat and started to collect his thoughts. “But I’ve… we’ve…”

“Never had the pleasure of going up against one another,” she said with a smile. “Pity. The fact is I’ve been tending to matters overseas. I’ve only been back for a few months. And here I was looking forward to a visit from my cousin when your father-in-law rang us both up.”

“Trevor?” Rafael croaked. “You… you know…?”

“Obviously,” Miranda said. For a few moments during the darkest night of his soul, his mind had drifted to the likes of John Buchanan or Rita Calhoun if he was to fight… and beat these charges.

“Now don’t go thinking that every Brit knows one another,” Miranda teased. “But my cousin and I are putting the reunion on hold. You remember Brenna Harker."

Nodding his head and swallowing hard, Rafael waited until his mind began to fire on the cylinders seemingly burnt out.

“You’re her cousin,” he stated plainly.

“Very good, Mr. Barba!” Miranda chirped. “And your current predicament aside, I rather relish the thought of getting back before a judge.”

“Probably better to have someone defending me who… who didn’t know the victim,” Rafael said.

“Exactly,” Miranda agreed. “Trevor called it the best of all possible worlds.”

“Quoting Candide?” Rafael managed to quip.

“Mr. Barba, I think we shall get along famously.”

Feeling at ease, he watched her reach into the slim valise at her side to reveal a manila folder.

“What have you got there?” he asked.

“The lab report. On the late Ms. Selby.”

“How did you get a hold of that?”

“I still have friends in high and low places who were only too happy to help. Have you truly looked at this?”

“No,” Rafael admitted.

“Why?” Miranda asked.

“I… too busy protecting…” His mind that had lingered on Natalia suddenly flashed to Dodds.

“Mike.”

“What of the sergeant?” Miranda asked.

“He doesn’t deserve to lose his shield over this,” Rafael started. “Is there something that you can do to help him?”

“You best leave that to Liv and her brothers and sisters in blue,” Miranda cut in. “I hear his old man is raising hell and branding it with a new address. We have your neck to worry about. This report is our first ace in the hole.”

Stretching forward, he just caught a glimpse of the diagrams and the medical codes before meeting Miranda’s eyes.

“Is that what I think I’m reading?” he asked.

“From the angle of the injury, it appears that Ms. Selby’s skull struck her bedside table. In another life, you could have easily claimed self-defense. Definitely a blight on your reputation… but not quite this.”

“I should kick myself, right?” Rafael darkly asked.

“You look kicked around enough right about now,” Miranda stated. “Yes, the cleanup complicates things. But what’s done is done.”

He let those words sink in and grasped the edge of the table.

“Are you still with me?” she asked.

“Here and feeling foolish,” he said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“That’s what your father-in-law is paying me for.”

“I thought that this was… was a favor,” Rafael countered.

“A girl’s still got to eat,” Miranda shot back. “Now ask away.”

His eyes traveled to his bare finger, and he closed his eyes tightly, seeing Natalia as she had looked the first time they attended the opera, bathed in pink, beautiful and smiling. Sometimes he wished she could have stayed like that, untouched by any and all tragedies.

“I… do you think that my wife… that Mike would be spared any further investigation if I just took a plea and… and the consequences?”

For a second, Miranda seemed shocked. But Rafael made no effort to take the words back. He focused on her eyes and saw her slowly shake her head until her smile expanded.

“Well what do you know,” she began. “Apparently royalty’s not confined to Buckingham. Here’s a prince of Manhattan looking after one of his lords and his lady fair.”

He nearly blushed. But that sight was meant for said lady fair’s eyes only.

“Be straight with me,” Rafael said.

“Possibly,” Miranda said, tapping the tip of a pen against the tabletop. “But I’m not here to cut a deal. Not yet anyway. And on that point, Natalia would agree.”

“You… you’ve already talked to her about this?” he asked.

“Naturally,” Miranda said. “Neither one of us went into this morning seeking conciliation prizes. And orange isn’t exactly your color.”

He almost laughed at the joke when his mind turned back to his wife, his eyes drifting to the empty chair at his sudden lawyer’s side.

“Where is Natalia?” he quietly asked. “Shouldn’t she be here?”

“Make no mistake; she wanted to join us.  But given the choice to sit here and worry and get out and take action, she opted for the latter.”

His heart started to swell with pride when he suddenly grasped Miranda’s hand.

“On her own?” he nervously asked. “Is she safe?”

“Quite safe, Mr. Barba,” Miranda assured him. “I told you the reunion was on hold. Natalia is in Brenna’s hands this morning.”

Was that safe? He remembered London. But the woman had come through then. And he had to believe… hope that Natalia would stay protected until he could touch her, feel her, forget this place and live in the light once more.

[wallpapernifty]

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[rauliskafan]

A Little Lesson in Pretty Presents

Authors’ Note: Happy Sunday and Happy Father’s Day, fabulous readers!!! We couldn’t let the day pass without paying a visit to our favorite Papi and his  muñequita. Take a little trip with us time before the twins were born. See Violetta wanting to do something nice for her father... and Rafael’s reaction. Special shout out to @yourtropegirl, Violetta’s number one fan!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you all enjoy!!!

          “Well this is a surprise!”

           Leaving his desk and dropping his yellow legal pad, Rafael rushed to the doorway to greet his girls. Natalia glowed, her baby bump just visible under the flowing lavender top, her cheeks still kissed by their time in the Hamptons. Savoring her taste for a few seconds, her lips mingling with his, he soon turned his attention to Violetta.

           And right away he noticed her pout.

           “Muñequita?” he asked. “Why do you have such a sad face?”

           His daughter stayed silent as he slipped to his knees and took her into his arms. Violetta returned his hug, but her weak embrace did absolutely nothing to put his mind at ease.

           “What’s going on?” he asked, looking up at Natalia.

           “Your daughter and I were shopping,” she said.

           “My daughter?” he asked. “Should that make me nervous?”

           “Well…”

           When she failed to finish the thought, he saw a small plastic bag poking out of Natalia’s purse and turned his glance back to Violetta.

           “Is that something for me?” he asked with a smirk.

           “Sweet pea?” Natalia started. “You said that Papi needed to know.”

           Worriedly, his eyes flickered between them. What did he need to be aware of? Was there a repeat of the Christmas incident when Violetta went wandering in search of her hippo? He made a mental note that if that was the case, he would keep calm this time around and not send her into tears with ill-chosen words. Waiting, wondering what else it might be, Violetta finally sucked in a deep breath and rolled her eyes before extending one small hand towards her mother.

           “Okay, Mami,” Violetta said. “I show him.”

           “Why don’t we all sit down first?” Natalia suggested. Rafael stood slowly in the wake of her gentle order, and they settled on the couch with Violetta between them. Her little legs dangled off the edge of the cushions, and she played with the hem of her aquamarine skirt as Natalia revealed the plastic bag.

           “Go on, sweet pea,” Natalia encouraged, setting the parcel in the little girl’s lap. Try as he might, Rafael could not make out the bag’s contents, the plastic a bright blue to rival the color of his daughter’s skirt. Once again, his mind flew in a million untold directions. What did the mystery bag contain? Why should a purchase make her so sad?

           “Okay. Here.”

           Prying the plastic apart, Violetta unveiled a smaller bag, the paper beige in color, adorned with black stripes. And her little lip began to quiver. Looking to Natalia for guidance, he saw his wife simply nod at their daughter before rubbing her back.

           “I… I show you now, Papi.”

           His eyes barely blinked at the sight of a slim box wearing the same pattern of stripes. Lifting off the lid as sheets of tissue paper unfurled, a neon green pocket square bearing bold black polka dots came into view.

           “Muñequita, I… it’s very nice,” he said. In his mind, he was already searching his closets for the tie, the vest to pair it with. He couldn’t quite connect those dots, but that didn’t mean---

           “Rafael.”

           Natalia’s voice was soft yet firm, and he saw her eyes narrow as her head twisted over her shoulders. Without uttering a word, he still shot her a question with his stare. Her face falling told him that this was serious, and when he realized she wasn’t about to say anything one way or the other, he focused on Violetta again.

           “I… it’s lovely, Violetta,” he carefully continued.

           “I find it on a shelf, Papi,” the little girl replied. “I see it and think of you.”

           “That was very sweet, muñequita,” he assured her.

           “I thought so, too,” Violetta agreed, casting a quick glance at her mother. Natalia clicked her tongue, prompting the little girl’s shoulders to sag, her eyes filling with tears.

           “Violetta, no,” Rafael said, kissing the top of her head. “It was very nice of you to pick out a present for Papi. There’s no need to---”

           “But Mami say it wrong to just take it.”

           “To… to just…”

           Suddenly her sadness and Natalia’s somewhat stern face clicked into place.

           “You just took it?” he managed to ask. She nodded, nothing more, and he looked to Natalia.

           “I was shopping for something for my father,” Natalia began. “I told Violetta how much Trevor would appreciate a nice gift.”

           “See?” Violetta chimed in. “I follow your lead, Mami.”

           “But…” Natalia gently urged.

           “But you… you give the man with the mustache money. And I just put this in my purse.”

           His eyes trailed towards the tiny pocketbook consumed by Hello Kitty’s face with a zipper all around the ears. Rafael pictured his daughter moving the metal around the curves of the cat’s countenance, her small hands so swift to pocket the item.

           “Didn’t anyone see?” he finally asked. “Or did an alarm go---?”

           “That happened when we tried to leave,” Natalia told him, and with a sigh, he touched Violetta’s shoulder.

           “Violetta, you know it’s wrong to steal,” he said. “Your Mami and I raised you to---”

           “I sorry, Papi!” Violetta shrieked. The strands of tissue paper along with the pocket square spiraled down from her lap, and she bolted to the nearest corner, collapsing in a heap of tears. Both parents were on their feet when Rafael reached for Natalia’s hand.

           “So the alarm?” he asked.

           “Very loud,” she admitted. “Violetta explained to the store manager that she was trying to do something nice. Thankfully they just let me pay for it. And they even put it in that snazzy gift box.”

           The kindness did not change the fact that she had done something wrong. Something for which she needed to be corrected. But Rafael wasn’t his father ready to rain down insults to bring Violetta to an even lower point.

           “She only took it because she loves you, Atticus.”

           Nodding at Natalia, Rafael picked up the pocket square and crept to the corner. On his knees again, he ran one hand over Violetta’s curls and cupped her chin in his palm, bringing her teary eyes to his.

           “Muñequita,” he began. “We don’t take just take things that aren’t ours.”

           “I… I know, Papi,” she choked out. “But I no know how much it cost. And beside I… I only have this.”

           Hello Kitty’s face fell again to reveal five quarters, two dimes, and an assortment of stray pennies.

           “I would want this to be enough,” Violetta said. “But I know it not. I sorry I no have more to give.”

           Biting back his own tears, Rafael pressed his forehead to hers, his arms encircling her small frame as he brought her to his lap.

           “Violetta…”

           Experience, his experience with his own father dictated that this tenderness should be turned into a twisted kind of teaching moment. An instant when a generous impulse was snuffed out with cruel words to send a soul shattering towards spaces where it was a battle to get back to whole. Even then, the broken bits were held together with the weakest of glue or tape tangled with stray hair and drops of dirt, worn to the point of futility because of overuse. He knew these band aids all too well; they were the paltry paste that barely held his childhood together, that brought him to a world where he was of age and afraid of letting anyone too close lest the adhesive finally fail altogether and leave him even lonelier... and in a place where there was no hope of ever putting the pieces back together.

           “I told her we could have waited until you came home,” Natalia said. “But I don’t think she could stand the wait.”

           All his fears floated away with his hermosa flor with his muñequita, with the two blessed babies yet to come. Experience was its own teacher…

           …but he could defy it if he knew a sweeter way to seal any cracks that brought smiles instead of tears.

           “Violetta.”

           Lifting her from the floor, Rafael walked her towards the window so she could see the city street below.

           “You see all the cars down there?” he asked.

           “I see them, Papi,” Violetta said.

           “Do you think that there are other little girls riding around? And their Papis?”

           “Probably,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Most people in the country live in New York.”

           “Very good,” he said, his lips stopping short of kissing her cheek as he peered into her eyes.

           “But none of those other Papis have you,” he continued. “No one is as lucky as me. You never need to take anything. Or buy me anything either. As long as I just have you, muñequita, I have everything in the world.”

           He held his breath, hoping that his words would sink in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalia smile under a few tears and started to grin back when Violetta turned his face towards her.

           “So you really not mad?” Violetta asked.

           “I… I don’t want you to do it again,” he said. “But your heart was in the right place. And I’m not mad, muñequita.”

           “My heart right here, Papi,” Violetta said, pointing to her chest.

           “Can I give it a kiss?” he asked.

            “Please, Papi.”

           Following through and hugging her close, his entire body relaxed when her sigh shifted into a giggle, and Violetta stroked his cheeks, smiling.

           “The nice man at the store give me a speech, too,” Violetta said. “And I give you the word that I never take anything without asking again.”

           “Good,” he said.

           “But…”

           “Yes?”

           “Well... since Mami pay, will you put the polka dots in your pocket?” she asked. “I know they make you look so pretty, Papi.”

           “It’s all good,” Natalia said, drying her eyes. “I have the proof of purchase.”

           With that she retrieved the pocket square and switched out the pale blue paisley for Violetta’s choice. He didn’t care if it clashed and brought Natalia under one arm as he kept his daughter close.

           “You like, Papi?” Violetta asked.

           “I love anything that you pick,” he said.

           “Yay!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Can you come to lunch with us?”

           “Sweet pea, I’m sure Papi has to work,” Natalia said.

           His desk was piled high with motions requiring his review. But they could wait for a few minutes.

           “What would my girls like to eat?” he asked.

           “Hot dogs!” Violetta declared. “Like we have in the Amptons!”

           “Too bad I left the marshmallows at home,” Natalia teased as they moved towards the door.

           “You two are sweet enough,” Rafael said.

           In that moment, the godawful glue slid down some unseen drain, the terrible tape discarded for all time. No need for it when their daughter’s heart along with Natalia’s were in the right place and beating so strongly.

           And when his soul would never splinter as long as they stayed by his side.

[vintagemichelle91]

A Little Lesson in Expecting: Chapter 3

Authors’ Note: Happy Sunday dear readers!! Hope you all had a restful weekend! Now, as we move into month four of Natalia’s pregnancy...lets find out what she will be having!!! @rauliskafan and hope you enjoy! We so look forward to your feedback!!!

           Clutching Rafael’s hand, Natalia took a deep breath. This wasn’t her first pregnancy, but after all that had happened she did not want to take any chances and chose to err on the side of extra caution. The cool gel swirling around her belly soothed her nerves as the technician prepared for the test, and Rafael stared at the screen, always looking mesmerized by the mere idea of twins.

           “You okay?” he gently asked when Natalia squeezed his hand a little tighter.

           She let out a small, shaky breath, “I’m fine… still just trying to take it all in.”

           “It was unexpected…”

           “In more ways than one,” Natalia conceded as she turned back to the screen and listened to the heartbeats. Two lives growing inside her this time… two small souls that would fill their lives with more love than what they could have ever imagined.

           “You know I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you,” Rafael whispered before placing a kiss on her temple. Smiling back, Natalia nodded her head, ready to speak when the technician spoke up.

           “Are you two ready to know what you’re having?” she asked.

           Glancing at each other, Rafael and Natalia shared another smile. “Yes,” he started. “I think we’ve had enough surprises.”

           “Point well made, Atticus.”

           He smirked and again they were in sync. “What are we having?” he asked.

           The technician zoomed in a bit on the monitor, no doubt to make sure she was correct before delivering the news. “And… it looks like you’re having two little girls! Congratulations”

           With a light laugh, Natalia sighed in relief. “Two little girls… I love the sound of that.”

            “Violetta will have to make room for them at her tea party,” Rafael said, blinking back a stray tear and kissing his wife’s hair.

           “You think she’ll be excited?” Natalia asked, her mind racing nervously as she imagined what Violetta might say on the matter, her three-year-old going on forty who was never afraid to speak her mind.

           “I’m sure she will, hermosa,” Rafael replied, pecking her brow.

           With his assurance, Natalia relaxed, picturing three sweet smiles, giggling one moment and weeping the next, her emotions and hormones in a beautiful state of overdrive leading towards happiness.

           “Atticus?” Natalia asked as scrolled through his email, most likely catching up with work since he had taken the rest of the day off to accompany her to the ultrasound appointment.

           “Hmmm… everything alright?” he quickly asked, forever a little worried this second time around whether she liked it or not.

           “I’m fine… are you?” Natalia tilted her head slightly and noted the faint exhaustion in his emerald eyes.

           “Why wouldn’t I be?” he challenged. “Got the verdict we wanted this week. Got you and the twins in the best of health.” Bowing his head, he kissed her belly, and Natalia tousled his hair.

           “It’s just… I can’t help but wonder if you… if you would have liked for one of the babies to be a boy,” Natalia said. “I mean I would understand if you---”

           To her surprise, he laughed and slipped his phone back into his pocket, Natalia’s eyes narrowing as she tried to follow his thoughts.

           “Glad my concern amuses you,” she said.

           “No, it’s not that…”

           “Then what?” Natalia questioned with a slight hitch to her voice, her hormones threatening to send her into a screaming fit.

           With a sigh, Rafael pulled his wife closer, taking her hand into his and bestowing a tender kiss on her palm. “I am laughing at my own joke…”

           “Care to let me in on it?” Natalia’s brow arched.

           “I was simply thinking that I’ve had so much more practice with girls that I should be considered an expert.”

            “I don’t know if I would call that a joke, Atticus,” Natalia replied. “But now your expertise is going to put to the ultimate test.”

           “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rafael assured with another kiss as the cab rounded the corner to their street. The leaves on the trees were just beginning to change from green to different hues of yellows, reds, and browns. Change was coming in more ways than one, but now it promised to arrive without a hint of fear.

“As long as these babies are happy and healthy, this news is just fine by me, hermosa.”

           His lips met hers before she could say anything else, and relief washed over her in a calming wave as the happiness of what was to come enveloped her. With another kiss, Rafael guided her out of the cab towards the townhouse steps. His hand found his way toward her tummy, and he peered into her sparkling brown eyes.

           “All good?” he asked.

           “Perfect. I’m sorry. I was just worried…”

           “Which is the last I want for you.” Rafael cupped her face in his hands and lightly pressed his forehead to hers.

            “I’ll do my best to remember that,” she said.

           “Our daughters are the luckiest girls in the world,” Rafael said with a hopeful smile, and Natalia couldn’t help but fall into his arms. “To have a wonderful Mami like you…”

           “And a perfect Papi like you.”

           “Remember that night we spent picking out Violetta’s name?” Natalia began to set the table for dinner, a personal pineapple and olive pizza for her per her craving and pepperoni for the others.

           “We played hooky and came up with a great name,” Rafael said, scooping Violetta into his arms and smothering her with kisses and tickles.

           The little girl giggled and squirmed in his hold. “The best name, Papi!”

           “Lo mejor para, mi muñequita,” Rafael concluded with one more kiss before setting her on the booster seat.

           Violetta clapped her hands in excitement. “First we eat and then we pick out names for the new babies!”

           “Think we can do it tonight?” Natalia asked.

           “I don’t see why not, hermosa.”

           The tattered book remained on the kitchen counter during dinner. Which the family ate quickly before moving to the living room, the pressure on, and Violetta determined that they would indeed have two names selected before the night was out. With bowls of ice cream in their hands, they settled on the sofa and Natalia flipped through the well-worn pages.

           “Mimi is such a cute name,” Natalia mused as she jotted it down on her notebook.

           Rafael’s brow quirked. “Another operatic name to go along with Violetta?”

           “Why not? One more and we could have our very own trio,” Natalia laughed lightly as she turned the page.

           Setting her bowl of ice cream down, Violetta narrowed her eyes at her parents. “That my thing. Sorry, but try again.”

           Rafael sighed but had to agree with her. “She’s right... and since mi hermosa flor is about to add to our garden…” Taking the book from Natalia’s hands, he began to page through the contents. “…some flowery names might be best.” Grinning, he found the page he was looking for and handed the book back to his wife.

           “You might be onto something here,” Natalia said as her eyes swept over the page.

           For the next hour or so, they played the name game, tossing out monikers such as Rose, Lily, Daisy, and every floral title that passed under their eyes. Violetta kept adding her input even as she became distracted by the latest episode of Doc McStuffins, making sure to remind Harold to pay attention for the next time they would need to fix a toy should their weekly tea parties get too rowdy.

           “I am not naming one of my daughters Petunia,” Rafael stated determinedly with just a hint of frustration in his voice.

           Violetta turned her attention away from Harold and the television screen. “That not a good name… it sound funny.”

           Natalia sighed and found herself agreeing with both of them. “I’d like them to match on some level… two perfect pretty sounds.” Sighing heavily, she closed her notebook. “Lily is pretty for one girl, but Lilac for the other baby is just not going to cut it.”

“It’s like we’re setting one up to be a debutant and the other is destined to take up residence in a commune or something,” Rafael groaned. Natalia nearly told him that that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world when her mind flashed back to their awful dinner with Ingrid Dodds, and she let the idea drop.

           “We need a break,” Natalia said. “To clear our heads.”

           After a short evening walk, the Barbas came back to the townhouse no closer to the solution, and Natalia felt slightly defeated as they returned to the sofa to look through the book one last time.  

           “Maybe we’re just over-thinking this?” Rafael suggested as he poured himself a serving of scotch.

           “But I want it to the names to be beautiful,” Natalia said.

           “Cause you guys did that the first time round,” Violetta giggled as she settled next to her Mami on the sofa, her green eyes focusing on the pages of so many names.

           “History can repeat itself,” Rafael insisted as he sipped his drink, and Natalia sighed.

“But it’s getting late,” Natalia said. “Maybe we should just pick this up in the morning.” Standing, Natalia set the open book beside Violetta, open to the H names.

           “H for Harold,” the little girl said, taking the big book to her tiny lap. “H my most favorite letter. It start happy and Harold and… okay I got it!”

           Rafael and Natalia turned around to face Violetta with amused expressions on their faces. She kicked the book to the ground and stood tall on the sofa cushions.

           “What did you get?” Rafael asked curiously.

           “The names. Come here, Mami.” Violetta motioned for Natalia to move closer, and she obeyed, still slightly confused. “Really, sweet pea? What are the names?”

           Violetta placed one little hand on Natalia’s belly. “You Hazel…” Then she moved her other hand to the other side. “…and you Holly. Okay. We done now.” With that she hopped off the sofa taking Harold with her.

           Suddenly Natalia felt the twins come alive from their slumber and with a flurry of little kicks, and she glanced back at Rafael, smiling as tears brimmed in her eyes.

           “I think they like it,” she placed a hand over her tummy as the kicks continued.

           Rafael smirked and set his glass down, picking Violetta up to kiss her pink cheeks. “As always, mi primera flor is right.”

           Violetta’s smile grew wider, seemingly just as proud of herself as he parents were.

           “Told you we could do it, Papi.”

           The night, Violetta got three songs and a story. Rafael couldn’t help but indulge her. She had figured out what they deemed impossible. But Natalia reminded herself that anything and everything could happen with a daughter like her. And a husband like…

           “She cracked the case,” Natalia said as Rafael entered their bedroom.

           “I wonder where she gets that from?” Rafael teased as he settled under covers with Natalia, his hand running gently across her tummy, the twins still, now named, still twirling.

           “Where in the world?” Natalia joked as he pulled her into his arms and their lips met. “I wonder---”

           “There are so many things I can make you wonder right now…” His hands brought down her nightgown strap, and his kisses found her shoulder.

           Natalia pushed him back slightly. “Before I allow you to… I thought I was your first flower?” she pouted, pretending to be hurt.

           Rafael stole kiss from her lips and held on to her as he whispered, “Tu eres la mejor flor… the one that makes the garden and every happy moment possible.”

           “Could you say anything sweeter?”

           “You have all night to find out.”

           Satisfied with his answer and hoping for more as her heart soared, Natalia settled into his arms, completely content as Hazel and Holly finally fell asleep.

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in Valiance: Chapter 3

Author’s note: Happy Sunday!!! Time for chapter 3!! Thank you so much for the wonderful support! @rauliskafan and I are so excited to bring you this next part!!! Enjoy and please don’t hesitate to let us know what you think!! 

           “Miss Lucy had a baby. His name was Tiny Tim…”

           Reading the words aloud, smiling as the nursery rhyme began to come together, Violetta cuddled closer and smiled up at her mother.

           “Good job, sweet pea. Keep going,” Natalia encouraged as she kissed the top of her head. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she let the sound of Violetta’s cheery voice carry her away.

           But not far enough.

           Three weeks had passed, and the sense of dread still lingered like the darkest shadow over her life. Sleep didn’t come in the night. She had next to no appetite. Even the simplest of tasks was a struggle, but Natalia forced herself to push forward. Lest Rafael catch on. Sometimes she feared that he already suspected…  

           “She put him in the bathtub… t-to see if he could swim!” Violetta giggled and pointed at the colorful illustration of the baby floating in the bubbly water. “Mami, see! It so funny!”

           Her chuckle was faint at best, her heart sinking in uncharted waters at the thought that her perfect little girl might find herself tied to the man who had hurt them most. How to explain that to Violetta? She shuddered, imagining disappointment in her daughter’s sparkling green eyes.

           “Mami, don’t cry. You know the baby be okay.”

           From her lips…

           “Yes, he will be.” Natalia gently set the little book aside, smoothing her fingers through Violetta’s curls and wishing she could keep her innocent and safe forever.

“Let’s get you some lunch,” she continued, taking her to the kitchen.

           “Grilled cheese, Mami!” Violetta’s tiny tummy rumbled as Natalia busied herself with the request. A zesty and creamy tomato soup would make for a fine side dish…

…but her nerves were frayed as she tried and failed to brown the sourdough bread, the sound of the smoke alarm filling the room. Violetta’s little face scrunched up as Natalia opened the window to let the gray puffs filter out into the street.

           “I’m sorry, sweet pea,” Natalia apologized, fighting back tears before Violetta could see the sadness filling her eyes.

            “It okay, Mami. I no need the carbs.”

           That made her laugh.

“Give Mami one more chance and she’ll get the sandwich right.”

           On her final attempt, she was successful, and Violetta dropped any idea of a diet as she dug in. Just as Natalia turned off the stove, the doorbell rang. More flowers? Nevada Ramirez in the flesh?

           She was beyond relieved to find Rollins with a smiling Jesse at her side.

           “Hey! Hope we came at a good time.” Her smile rose and fell, the odor of charred bread still hanging in the air.

           “Burnt grilled cheeses for lunch,” Natalia said sadly. “Not my finest moment.”

           “I’ve done that, too,” Rollins said as Violetta slurped the last of her soup. “Not the end of the world.”

           “Jesse! Come let play lady with alligator purse and you be the baby in the tub!” Violetta wasted no time tugging at Jesse’s sleeve.

           “Momma? Why do I always have to be---?”

           “Go on,” Rollins said. “Violetta just wants to play.”

           With a grumble, Jesse gave in.

           “Okay. But I want to be the lady next,” she said.

           “I know how to share now, Jesse,” Violetta sighed, leading Jesse to the living room and her toys.

           “Natalia? Hey, what is---?” Rollins stopped short when Natalia shrunk back from her embrace.

           “I’m sorry. I’m just overthinking things too much,” Natalia said wiping her eyes.

           Rollins took a quick peek at Violetta showing Jesse her book, explaining the finer points as to how to pull off the best alligator purse lady. Only then did she lead Natalia upstairs to the master bedroom.

           “Honey, just take a deep breath.”

           “That’s what I keep trying to do. But I feel like I see him everywhere.” Natalia paced the floor as if she was caught in a cage. Or the worst web. His eyes, his hands, his breath on her neck still seemed to consume her. Touching her tummy, she couldn’t help but cringe.

           “Did you have lunch?” Rollins asked.

           “I can’t eat,” Natalia said.

           “That won’t work. You have to take care of yourself. The baby could be Barba’s.”

           “Do you actually believe that?” Natalia asked.

           “Given your time line, yes. No reason we should think otherwise. Not just yet.”

           Natalia paused as Rollins took her hands.

           “You make it sound so easy,” she said.

           “It can be. It will. Once we run the test---”

           “Then there might be no way out. Amanda, I just wish…”

           And for the first time in weeks, Natalia screamed.

           “Natalia!”

           The detective took a slight step back as the other woman’s hand connected with the vanity mirror. Glass shards shattered across floor. Along with her guilt.

           “Natalia, don’t---”

           “Don’t hurt myself? What? Makes me a bad mother, right?”

           “I never said---”

           “I know you didn’t. But I’m going crazy here. I---”

           Her words halted when there was no hint of the little girls downstairs. Slipping over the wreckage in an effort to get back to her daughter, she crashed into Rafael, sending him to the floor.

And a shard of glass straight into his palm.

           “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded. Natalia brushed off any and all traces of her pain as she gingerly pulled the broken piece away and let it fall to the ground.

           “Atticus, you’re bleeding,” she said.

           “I can see that,” he said, wincing. “I can feel it, too.”  

           “You should bandage that up,” Rollins suggested as she began to clean up the mess. Natalia muttered a quick thank you and hurried Rafael into the bathroom.

           “I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” she said, retrieving the first aid kit to tend to his wound.

           “Hope not,” he said as she washed the blood away. “You and Rollins… you weren’t fighting, were you?”

           “No,” Natalia said. “What would we fight about?”

           “You tell me,” he said.

           Meeting his eyes, Natalia felt as if more than the mirror had cracked. How did it go? Seven years’ bad luck? A little over a month for her to hope that the tides still might turn. Eighteen years and counting… longer if Rafael wasn’t the father.

           “I was just clumsy,” she said. “And I hate that you were hurt.”

           She savored the feel of his kiss against her cheek.

           “I’ll live,” he said. “Important thing is that you are alright.”

“Of course I am,” she said. “You don’t have to keep asking me that.”

“Point taken. I can put it to rest. If you would just tell me what else is going on.”

“Are you cross examining me?” she asked, her stare returning to his cut as she swabbed the injured area with rubbing alcohol and started to wrap a length of gauze around his hand.

“That’s not what I’m doing.” he said. “But you and I… no secrets. Remember?”

           “I do.”

           Rafael cupped her face with his good hand and kissed her brow. “I can’t help you if you shut me out, hermosa.”

           Looking into his face, she saw his smile. Along with the dark circles poking out from under his eyes.

           “Can’t help anyone if you’re not sleeping,” she said.

           “Natalia, don’t change the---”

“Which you’re not. Last thing I want is for you to have something else to worry about.”

Sighing heavily, he gathered her under his arm.

           “You are not something else. You are everything…” Rafael pressed his lips to hers...

           … and she kissed him back.

           Should she tell him now? He needed to know. But what then? Would he fly into a rage and demand that Nevada be brought to justice sooner rather than later to exact the proper pound of flesh? And as sweet as he seemed, would he turn away from her, regard her as damaged even as he swore his everlasting love when he first learned of her transgression?

           No. Whatever else Rollins might say, Natalia wasn’t strong enough for that.

           “So are you,” she said. “To me.”

“I love you even more when you smile.”

Somehow her grin stayed in place as she finished patching up his hand and gave him a soft kiss.

“I better go check on Amanda,” she said. “Unless you need me to stay.”

“Always,” he answered. “But see what she’s up to. We’ll talk later.”

She watched him try to loosen his tie and helped him along, caressing his weary face.

“I love you, Atticus,” she said.

“Sigue sonriendo, mi hermosa flor.”

That much, maybe, she could get right.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Natalia spied Rollins on the sofa, watching the little girls played peacefully, her own scream forgotten as Violetta repeated the nursery rhyme over and over again.

“That’s not leaving my head anytime soon,” Rollins said.

“You learn something new everyday,” Natalia replied.

“Is Barba okay?” she asked, slowly standing up.

“The cut wasn’t too deep. He’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

“I’ll get there,” she said. “Thank you for cleaning up.”

“Don’t mention it. Kind of worked out in our favor.”

Rollins glanced up the stairs, and when she seemed sure that the coast was clear, she pulled Natalia aside and produced a small evidence bag containing a piece of glass.

Stained with her husband’s blood.                  

“We’re going to need this. For the test.”

“I… I hadn’t even though about how we would get---”

“Well now you don’t have to.”

One less thing to worry about. For that alone she should be grateful.

And maybe a single stroke of luck might overrule the broken mirror for all time.

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in Illusions: Chapter 8

Author’s Note: Happy Wednesday!!! Thank you so much for the feedback as it is always appreciated! Now, who exactly came through the door??? Read on to find out!! @rauliskafan and I hope you enjoy!!!

           “Please go---!”

           “Natalia!”

           With Rafael’s head spilling into her shoulders, Natalia blinked up as the shadow took shape… turned into Trevor dressed in black with a gun in hand that he had not fired. She heaved a sigh of relief as he knelt to check Carmen’s pulse, hoisting her moaning form into his arms and leaving her on the bed as Natalia helped her husband to his feet.

           “How did you know?” she asked.

           “Your voice gave you away,” he started. “Let’s get out of here.”

           He moved to Rafael’s other side as they pulled him from the room that had been his prison, dragging him past Hector and the broken glass. Somehow, they maneuvered him down the staircase…

           …where Trevor had a car waiting.

           “Get in the back,” Trevor ordered. “You’ll be fine.”

           Unsure as to whether or not that was true, Natalia still obeyed and settled on the leather upholstery with Rafael’s head in her lap. Trevor climbed behind the wheel and sped off.          

“Natalia?” Rafael muttered, his voice weak.

           “Give him something to drink,” Trevor said, tossing a plastic bottle back. Natalia poured the water between his lips, holding his head up to keep him from coughing. As they moved further and further from harm’s way, or so she hoped, she touched Rafael’s face again, her fingers and her mind registering the beard sprouting from his warm cheeks.

           “Someone needs a shave,” she halfheartedly joked as he drank again, and he grabbed her hand.           

 “Are your services for sale?” He barely cracked a smile as she hugged him close, trying to keep tears in check. Too much to say. Maybe they weren’t out of danger yet. But soon… soon she would have to tell him everything.

          “You should be safe here. For now.”

           Trevor looked out the window of a safe house just beyond the city limits. Rafael listened to the story as Natalia bathed his brow with a damp cloth.

           “He looks like me?” Rafael asked. Natalia nodded sadly and said nothing else as they sat on the edge of the bed.

           “Where’s Violetta?” Natalia asked. “I told you to stay with her.”

Trevor turned back with a faint smile. “I sent her out of town with Alessia once I knew something was wrong,” he explained patiently.

           “How did you find us?”

            “I tried the townhouse. His office.” He nodded in Rafael’s direction before pulling a chair to the bed. “Been tracking your phone, the… assistant’s.”

           He uttered Carmen’s title as if it was the foulest of words and shook it off as he held Natalia’s hand.

“Violetta is safe,” he promised. “I still have some contacts in Manhattan courtesy of Harker. You have nothing to worry about.”

           “What about Maggie?” Rafael asked.

           “She’ll be told that Natalia went with them,” Trevor answered simply. “Have eyes on her, too. Out of sight of course.”

           “So what now?” Rafael asked. “We just wait?”  

           “Exactly,” Trevor said. “Need every duck in a row before we do anything rash.”

           “But that… person is out there,” Rafael said. “Living my life. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

            “Rafael, please. We need to tread lightly.” Natalia placed her hand on his chest, and he felt his breath calm. Turning towards her, he saw her trembling and hung his head.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

           “You did nothing wrong,” Natalia said. “I… we’ll talk about it later.” She looked ready to cry and he almost touched her face when she left his side, pacing the room as he turned to Trevor.

            “No other way to do this?” Rafael asked.

           “I’m afraid not,” he said. “Not until we have all the facts. Natalia, is there more anything more that you can tell me?”

           Watching her fiddle with the curtains, Rafael saw the bruise on her cheek. He had to have done it. Rafael was ready to leap from his own skin, stalk the streets until he found this man. Was he strong enough to look in a warped mirror? His head felt fuzzy as Natalia spoke.

           “I am just as confused as you are,” she said. “That man… Nevada… I never met him before in my life.”

           What wasn’t she saying? Rafael longed to know as Trevor cleared his throat.

           “We’ll leave it at that then,” he said. “You’ll wait here.”

           “That’s your plan?” Rafael asked.

           “And what do you suggest we do?” Trevor challenged. “Go in guns blazing? In my line of work, that doesn’t play.”

           “Worked in London,” Rafael said, struggling to his feet. “Why are you suddenly so---?”

           “Please! Stop! Just stop!” Natalia slammed her palm against the thick glass of the window. Rafael rushed to her side and tried to hold her.

           “Hermosa?”

           “I’m alright. Don’t…”

Tensing, she said nothing else, and Trevor glanced at his watch.

           “I’m off now,” he said.

           “You’re going?” Rafael asked.

           “I need to a bit more digging. Find out what you’re up against.”

           “You both said it was Carmen and---”

           “This Ramirez twat,” he seethed. “But the question is why. I have two men downstairs and two more across the way. No one’s getting in here. Natalia?

           She walked towards him slowly as he touched her shoulders. Rafael blinked. More bruises? What had happened to her?

“I wasn’t much of a father,” Trevor continued. “But I have the skills for this situation. I swear I won’t let you down.”

           Rafael was ready to protest when Trevor narrowed his eyes.

           “Think of Violetta,” he said. “Stay put and let me try to help you.”

           Against that line of reasoning, he had no argument.

           “For tonight,” Rafael conceded.

            “Please be careful,” Natalia said, her eyes flickering with worry as she extended her hand to her father.

            “Of course,” Trevor said, squeezing her fingers in his. “Rest up. I’ll be back before you know it.”

With that, he left them. Rafael grimaced, ready to ask about the marks as Natalia pointed to the bathroom.

“You’ll want to get cleaned up,” she said.

“Not just yet,” he said, slipping from her arms back to the bed. “I want… I need to know…”

Dizzy again, he fell to the bed.

“Rafael?”

“Don’t leave me, Natalia. I need you.”

She sat slowly, and he gently kissed her fingers as she caressed his bearded face. His arms extended, ready to pull her close when she bundled his body in the blankets until he gave in to an easier sleep than he had known in days. Because she was here with him. So much more, so much sweeter than a wanting dream from which he awoke alone.

But when he did wake, the questions remained.

           Lukewarm water cascaded over Natalia’s back as she stood underneath the shower head. Dirt and blood swirled down the drain and as she scrubbed and scrubbed. No use; she still felt filthy. The bruises stung. Not just on her back but in other scarred places that she could not see. She’d been through it before. But this was worse.

           How could she face him again? Return to Rafael’s arms? Once he knew what she had done…

           Hot, angry tears flowed, and Natalia placed her hand over her mouth to conceal the sobs wracking her body.

           “Hermosa?”

Rafael spoke softly as he knocked on the bathroom door. Natalia turned up the water to drown him out, to gather her thoughts before responding. Don’t tell him now. Not when they had to wait for Trevor, wish for home…

…hope to get back to Violetta.

           “I’m okay.” Her reply was meek, and she shut her eyes, praying that he would accept her answer.

           Her husband, the real Rafael was not so easily swayed.

            “Natalia?”

He lightly pushed back the shower curtain. She didn’t dare look at him even as she felt his eyes on her… on her body. Her tears intensified at the shame of wearing the brand of Nevada Ramirez’s touch, like she was his whore…

Grotesque. It was the only word that came to mind, echoing in her brain as Rafael reached for her.

           “Hermosa, did he do this to you?” She gave him nothing in the way of a response. He stripped off his clothes, stepping into the shower, seeing her body a discolored mass that ached with every splash of water and spray of soap.

           “Yes,” she softly said. “I’m sorry.”

           “No, Natalia. There’s nothing to be…”

           His voice trailed off as he cupped her face in his hands and attempted to kiss away her tears. But she pushed him away.

           “How could you want me like this?” Her lip quivered as another sob threatened to escape her lips.

           “I will always want you… siempre mi hermosa flor...” he reassured her.

           “Don’t call me that… I don’t deserve… I’m disgusting… can’t you see that!”

           “Natalia, listen to me,” Rafael implored. His voice almost pulled her from the depths of despair, his lips feather light on her black and blue shoulders tinged by the water. “You are the most exquisite woman I have ever known. You saved me. Whatever that animal did to you, it is not your---”

           “Oh, Rafael, if you only knew!” she continued to cry as she twisted away from him.

           “Natalia, please.”

“I---I s-slept with him. Willingly…oh God, I thought he was you!”

It was as if she plunged a knife into her own heart and his. A single glance over her injured shoulder revealed his teeth gritted, his eyes raging with fury. “I had no idea… he made me believe… why didn’t I know?”

Now he would leave her. Maybe not the room but her soul. How could he ever trust her again? Touch her again? Natalia nearly sank to the slick floor when Rafael caught her and tenderly turned her around to face him.

“Natalia… mi hermosa flor. It wasn’t your fault. He took advantage of you. Of your trusting heart.

“But I betrayed you. I betrayed our vows. Don’t try to make it okay. I failed... us.”

She wept as Rafael ran his hands down her arms and avoided her hands. Was he already fading away? Try as she might she would never be clean again, never worthy of an absolution.

Delicately, he pressed his fingers under her chin.

“Hermosa, por favor… don’t talk like that. If anyone failed… it was me. Because I wasn’t there to protect you. I wish…”

His lips met hers, soft and full of quiet passion under the water. As his kiss fell away he finally took her into his arms.

“I love you, Natalia. Nothing can ever change that.”

“But how could you still want me?” she continued to cry.

“Because I told you I’m banking on forever… and that means nothing to me without you.”

Her sobs dissipated as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. They lingered under the water until it ran cold. Only then did he help her back to the bed. Falling between the sheets, he embraced her, threading his fingers through her hair with each kiss. She started to grow drowsy when his lips drifted towards her ear.

“You rescued me, hermosa. Rest now. Let me rescue you.”

“Atticus…”

With a sigh she fell asleep in his arms.

“We have to move fast.”

Trevor returned the next morning with clean clothes and an intense stare.

“What did you find out?” Rafael asked as he shrugged on a black blazer and Natalia stepped into a pair of sandals.

“Your imposter is planning to attend some fundraiser tonight.”

“What do you think he plans to do there?” Natalia asked.

“Probably the same thing he did in court today,” Trevor said. “Play the fool. Sully Rafael’s reputation.”

“Ward,” Rafael growled as he ran his fingers through his hair. “He has to be the one behind this.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Trevor said. “But subterfuge aside, I think we should call him on his game right out in the open.”

“Isn’t that risky?” Natalia asked.

“Better that than to let him lie in the dark,” Trevor said. “Rafael, listen to me.”

Trevor laid out a plan for Rafael to attend the gala undercover, to wait for a precise moment to pounce. He deflected any idea of calling Liv or Dodds or any other member of the squad.

“The less people that know, the safer everyone will be,” Trevor insisted.

Rafael grumbled before agreeing.

“Tell me where and when and I’ll be there,” he said.

“Me, too,” Natalia whispered.

“Hermosa, I don’t think that---”

“No, Rafael. I’m not losing you again. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in Perseverance: Chapter 9

Author’s Note: Time for another chapter!!! @rauliskafan and I hope you enjoy this! Loving the feedback and love you guys are showing this story! Thank you!!

           “I know this isn’t easy for you, Natalia.”

           Dr. Claudia Bryant’s voice broke into her racing thoughts. Despite the encouragement from everyone, Natalia still wasn’t sure if talking to a total stranger would actually work.

           But she had agreed to try.

           “A lot hasn’t been easy lately,” she finally admitted, feeling as if she ripped a band aid from her arm.

           Natalia took note of the therapist’s pen scribbling across her notepad. Was she going to prescribe something? The last thing Natalia wanted right now was pills. All she wanted was her life back and an end to the darkness.

           “Meaning the miscarriage?”  Dr. Bryant asked.

           “That and so many other things,” Natalia said.

           The silver pen stopped and was set down gently. Dr. Bryant glanced up at Natalia with a sympathetic smile.

           “See it isn’t so bad once you start talking,” she said. “Now, what would those other things be?”

           Natalia stood and circled the room, her mind consumed with so many insecurities. Standing by the window, she had a gorgeous view of Central Park. The trees blooming with greenery and promising brighter days to come.

Yet Natalia couldn’t bring herself to feel that way.

           “I’ve completely failed my husband.” A single tear slid down her soft cheek and she gripped the edge of her blouse tightly. Her lonely boy from the Bronx deserved so much more and now she wasn’t sure if she was worthy of him.

           “You didn’t fail him, Natalia. Things happen and sometimes we cannot control them… it’s only fate taking its course.”

Dr. Bryant’s voice was kind, and Natalia could feel the air rushing back to her lungs. She looked so sure from the space of her seat, her dark eyes so understanding…

…but the woman did not know their entire story.

           “If you only knew how much fate has put us through. I can’t help but be angry. Disappointed.” Countless nights of lying awake at night and reliving memories of Robert Emerson, of Adam Conway, of a farmhouse on the outskirts of London.

           Now the worst hand fate could have dealt. At times, she just wanted to crumble.

           “And yet, this is where you are,” Dr. Bryant continued. “You and Rafael have come out stronger every single time.”

           “But this time it’s my fault. I failed him. And our family. I… I lost our child!” Natalia’s voice hitched and tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.

           “Natalia, he does not blame you for that.” Dr. Bryant reasoned.

           “He says that.” She smiled at the thought of Rafael. The way he held her at night when she woke up crying, the way he tended to Violetta when Natalia had no strength to get out of bed. “He always that he just loves me.”

           “You wanted to love him back by giving him a big family.”

           “I guess,” Natalia whispered.

           “Keep going. This stays between me and you.”

           Sitting again, Natalia smoothed her hands down her skirt with a heavy sigh.

“My husband had a rough childhood. I want to make up for it.”

           Dr. Bryant looked straight into Natalia’s eyes. “I can understand that. But there’s something else.”

           The truth was staring right at her through the other woman’s eyes and it finally hit her heart.

           “I… I wanted it for me, too,” she confessed. “I feel so selfish saying that but…”

           But there it was.

           “Admitting that much is a step forward,” Dr. Bryant said. “It’s not selfish. It’s human.”

           “It still hurts,” Natalia muttered.

           “And it’s okay to say that,” Dr. Bryant assured her. “Wanting more is never a bad thing.”

           “But what if it’s impossible?”

           Dr. Bryant leaned forward, just touching Natalia’s hand before she spoke again.

“There are other ways you and Rafael can expand your family. Maybe adoption?”

           “I never really gave that much thought,” Natalia said.

           “Why not? You have a steady foundation. Lots of love from what you say.”

           “It’s true,” Natalia answered.

           “Then why not open your arms to a little life that needs more of the same?”

“I… do you think we really could?” Natalia asked.

           “Sometimes life shuts a door; but there is always a window.”

           With a fresher take on things, Natalia headed to the 16th precinct. Dr. Bryant’s words gave her hope for a second chance. Was it possible to start over and make life alright again? She wanted to talk to Liv and looked for her as soon as she entered the squad room.

           Would she be welcomed?

           “Natalia? How are you doing?” Carisi asked, seemingly surprised to see her.

           “Hey, Sonny… I’m good,” she reassured him. “How is everything here?”

           “Oh, you know, the usual,” he said. “Good to have the counselor back.”

           “I shouldn’t have kept him away for so long.”

           “No! I didn’t mean…”

           He struggled for his words until Natalia laid a light hand on his arm.

           “I’m better, Sonny,” she swore. “Please don’t look so scared.            “Can’t help it. I’ve been worried about you.”

           “I know. But talk to me like everything is normal. I need that.”

           By the look on his face it appeared easier said than done, but the detective finally shrugged his shoulders and forced a smile.

           “Looking to trade more recipes? Because I found a new one that Rollins loved.”

           “Send it to me?” she asked as Carisi started to pull it up on his laptop.

           “It’s a Southern fried deal,” he said. “Amanda has me rethinking my menus.”

           “I’m trying to be open to new things.”

           “Then you’ll love this.”

           His fingers clicked at his keyboard as Natalia glanced at a closed office door, her hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Is Liv in?” Natalia asked.

           “She’s all yours,” he said as he pointed towards office. “And the recipe’s on its way.”

           “Thank you.” Natalia gave his shoulder a squeeze before leaving his side and timidly knocking.

           “Yes? Oh…”

           “Hi,” Natalia said from the doorway.

           “Natalia. I wasn’t expecting---”

           “I’ll bet. Can we talk?” Natalia asked, her voice wary as she watched Liv and knew that she had every right to throw her out of her office.

           “Always.”

Smiling as she removed her glasses, Liv tossed them aside and stood to usher Natalia in.

           “How are you feeling?” Liv asked.

           “Fine. I… I saw someone today.”

           “That’s a good start,” Liv said.

           “It’s a lot to think about.”

           “What are you thinking?”

           “On the way here I was thinking about the other night.”

           “Natalia, it really isn’t---”

“But it is. I didn’t mean it… you must understand that I was coming from a very bad place.”

           Liv nodded. “I get it.  You’ve been through the wringer. I can’t even imagine.”

           “Still it’s no excuse. I was out of line. You’ve always been my friend.”

           “I’m your friend now.”

           “I---I’m just so sorry, Liv.”

           As Natalia sobbed in her arms, Liv’s embrace was warm and secure, letting Natalia feel safe.

           “It’s already forgotten,” Liv promised as she rubbed small circles onto Natalia’s back and led her toward the couch in the corner of the office.

           “You’re too nice,” Natalia said as Liv offered her a tissue.

           “I only want to help you. And Rafael.”

           Natalia sniffled. “Well I… I actually came by as well to ask you about something.”

           “Anything you need,” Liv promised as Natalia took a deep breath.

           “Tell me about adopting Noah. I mean… in the beginning.”

           Liv’s face softened as she reached for the silver-framed photograph. Natalia’s tears ceased as she saw how happy the little boy seemed from the start and silently marveled at how much he had grown in just a few short years.

           “It was unexpected,” Liv started. “I won’t say that every second was easy. But I can’t picture life without my precious little boy.”

           “Do you ever feel… as if he isn’t truly yours?” Natalia nervously asked, doubting the question as soon as it left her lips but still desperate for the answer.

           And Liv sighed happily,

“I feel as if he is more mine than any biological child. Because we found each other when we needed love the most.”

           “You make it sound like fate,” Natalia whispered as Liv took her hand. “In a good way.”

           “Fate can be kind to you, too,” she said. “Are you thinking of adopting?”

           “Maybe,” Natalia said. “Do you have a few more minutes?”

           “Longer if you like.”

           They chatted for a little while longer before Natalia left Liv with a hug and a newfound sense of optimism. As she walked down the hallway, even the gray walls of the precinct seemed brighter. All that remained was to talk to her husband. What would Rafael say? Deciding to surprise him at Hogan Place, she pressed the elevator button, determined.

           “Hermosa?” Rafael almost dropped his phone as soon as he saw her. “What brings you---?”

           Before he could finish the thought, Natalia rushed him back into the elevator. As the doors closed, she took his face into her hands and kissed him tenderly. With her palm on his chest, Natalia felt his heartbeat accelerate, and his lips curved into a smile against her mouth.

           “Hello to you, too,” he said when she finally broke away. “This is… a surprise.”

           “A good one?” she asked, her lips on his cheek as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

           “The best.”

           Her fingers played with his tie, and she felt his eyes burning into her brow until she looked up at him again.

           “I love you,” she said to him in a whisper.

           “Mi hermosa flor, te quiero mucho.”

           He moved to kiss her again, but Natalia held him back, biting down on her lip as she grasped his hand.

           “I know. And I want to do right by you and Violetta.”

           “You always---”

           “But I haven’t. And after talking about… thinking things through… for the first time in weeks I really do feel better.”

           “Natalia… to hear you say that… so do I.”

           They kissed again as the elevator started to move

“I want to go home and talk about the future… the one that I want to keep building with you.”

“Let’s go right now,” he said.

“I didn’t mean… you obviously still have work to do. Are you here to talk to Liv or---?”

“It’ll keep. Right now, I only want to talk you.”

Hugging him tightly, Natalia murmured into his neck.

“Good. Because there’s so much I need to tell you.”