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the-headbop-wraith · 4 years ago

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3_ 44 Mending Fractures in Clock Faces

It was one of those days where she didn’t feel capable enough to get every little detail in order, before heading out to tackle a day. The day itself wasn’t especially meaningful, aside from one meeting at the college Though she wouldn’t typically fret over a conventional brief to slog off materials, she had reasons these days to be a little more cautious about approaching individuals outside her close knit circle of friends.

Vivi finished applying some contours and shade to her face, and afforded a little shade of blue tint around her eyes. She and the boys were usually in and out of places in such a whirl, she didn’t go for a full slather of makeup. It was maintenance and she had better things to spend her money on, such as rare and illusive books that the Tome Tomb would pay a good percentage for. On this day however, she wanted to conceal the grayness of long nights and short bouts with sleep; though Uncle Lance knowing her, the rouge would be a dead giveaway she’d been a workaholic lately.

A soft whine and delicate scritch-scritch tumbled through the lower space of her door. “Give me two seconds,” she hailed back. Edged back from the mirror, she made a face by squinting her eyes and tilted her head under the phosphorous light. It would get her through the day, which is all she needed.

The sultry aroma of a warm breakfast assaulted her upon exiting the bathroom. It was warmer in the living room than it was in the freshly steamed shower.

“Ooh, that smells scrumptious.” She stepped aside, while Mystery nudged by and entered the bathroom. He kicked the door shut rather rudely, once she was out. “Sorry.”

“Wow, that’s a record for you,” Lewis croaked. He was in the small kitchen, a dishtowel draped over one shoulder while he worked the stove. With a graceful tilt, he platted the pan-fried toast and eggs onto an awaiting blanket of the napkin. “But Mystery sure appreciated it. He’s a bottomless pit.” He set the plate on the bar and went rummaging around for the silverware. “Though it gave me a chance to practice. Cooking, it’s not so easy when temperatures are all… eugh.”

Vivi examined the breakfast collage set before her. She bought all microwavable stuff, fast and easy for a pinch, but Lewis being Lewis insisted he dedicate to the stovetop method. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. And… shouldn’t you be good at this, isn’t fire your element or something?” She didn’t mean for it to be so blunt or insensitive. “You’re made of fire, aren’t you?”

“Only my unbridled passion for you, mi corazona azul.” Lewis swept up a tea pot and poured the steaming water into a mug, with a little strainer chain dangling off the side. “It’s the least I could do for crashing at your place. What am I gonna do, watch you work all on your own?” He set the mug beside her plate, along with a fresh bottle of honey purchased the other day.

Vivi bobbed the steeper and began cutting at her breakfast. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve done enough. You could afford some time off, save some energy. Whatever you need. MMm! This is really good.”

“Is that a new hairband?” Vivi frowned. “What? Just asking.” He turned off the burner, and began tidying up the counters. Eggs went back into the fridge with the pre-cooked sausage.

“I wanted to look a little more… put together, when we go in for our review at the college. Regarding that… case.” At the fridge door, a wash of mist engulfed Lewis as he lingered, edging around to peer at Vivi with the corner of a burning fuchsia eye. “It’s a standard brief, but ya remember what I said – the Demonology Department is a little hung up that the case went so ‘smoothly’ as they put it.” She did finger quotes… then licked her fingers of the butter and grease.

Lewis shut the door and turned away, pretending to examine the dirtied dishes on the stove. He gave the back of his head a rub, a very human gesture and completely reflexive.

The bathroom door opened and Mystery emerged, looking fluffy and bright. He strolled over to Vivi and gazed up imploringly, eyes big and beseeching. You gonna finish that?

“We’re gonna go through and give the evidence media another review,” Vivi insisted. “Make certain you didn’t interfere with a photo or vid clip. No offense, but whenever you photobomb you always have this… ominous aura, and that’d contradict our reports about passive spirits.”

“It’s not that,” Lewis chittered. The oven light flashed, causing him to flinch as if this never happened before. “I guess what is bothering me, is if I wasn’t there. To meet the family. What would… I don’t know. What would the college have opted to do?”

Vivi took a bite of egg and looked at Lewis’ eyes. “You need to remember, it wasn’t the call of the department to… how should I say…?”

“Escort?”

“Escort’s good. You did the escorting, I guess.” She set her hands on the bar and straightened up a bit more. “The point is, I didn’t rightfully care about the Hershey’s. They weren’t worth it, we were there for them but they didn’t require us. See? They could’ve gotten anybody, to deal with that family – locked in the memories of their home.” She sighed, looking aside wistfully. “Anybody else could have torn them apart, tormented them. It wasn’t warranted.”

Lewis held his smoldering eyes with her clear blues a moment longer, before giving a rasp and withdrawing. “Yeah. You have a point.” He took the skillet and set it in the sink, BUT first he took a napkin and began wiping it out.

“You’re invited to come along, if you’re curious?” she posed. Honey went into the tea and she gave the mug an experimental sip. “Mmm. Maybe not a flashlight, this time. Or you could do that invisible thing… can you turn invisible?”

“Ah, yeah,” Lewis muttered. “If it’s the same by you, I’d feel fine just sitting this one out. Demonology Department and Paranormal Investigations? Investigation being a keyword here. We wouldn’t want someone seeing shadows, and suspect of all things you were followed or something.” He cracked a grin. “That would be awkward.”

“I always wondered how astute those people are,” Viv admitted, while pressing a bent finger to her chin thoughtfully. “But you’re right, it’d be better not to risk it. I won’t be back for a while though, just so you know. The college isn’t our only stop, Art and I have to dump supplies and get the van in for the exterior overhaul.” She turned the bare plate over and looked down at Mystery.

“All gone. See? Why are you even begging, that’s so unbecoming of someone like you.”

Mystery huffed and stamped a rear foot. I’m a growing boy!

“I won’t be in for a while. That’s the deal.”

Lewis pursed his lips and gazed upward, giving it serious consideration. “I would prefer helping you, and let Arthur have the time to take it easy and catch up with his work.”

Vivi shrugged. “He has to be present for the brief.”

Lewis ran water in the sink and began scrubbing the skillet. “I do kinda need a break from people for a while. Ya feel me? Lo sie— Sorry, that I won’t be able to help with squaring away our stuff. I know that’ll be a massive pain for Artie.” The whole… possession thing was rough on the both of them, though he didn’t want to say that aloud. This was the first chance he was able to put up distance with Arthur, since he rose from his hibernation. There was still a lot of sensations and spite boiling inside him, a lot he didn’t quite have defined words for. The way Arthur was so lost and out of his mind with utter desperation shook something to Lewis’ core, while at the same time; it rekindled those old memories which sustained him during his existence before the surviving trio stumbled upon the catacombs of his resting place. A place he wanted buried away and secluded from the world, for all the damage it had done.

“Lew? You okay?”

He jarred and gave Vivi a look, then, followed her gaze to his arms… the water in the sink bubbling and scorched. Vivi was leaning back, clearly uncomfortable with this turn. Lewis pulled backwards, careful not to slosh the scalding water. He patted at the dish towel hung over his shoulder and focused on snuffing out the heat.

“That must be some water heater,” he sputtered.

“Are you really… okay?”

“Yes, really.” He offered a wide grin. The crisis averted, he ran some cold water in the skillet pool. “Well that suckers sterilized.”

“Can you be honest with me?” When Lewis raised his gaze, she went on, “Is it… Arthur?”

“No. Not at all. Okay-okay, the truth is I need a break from him. But it’s nothing personal, I get the feeling it’s mutual.”

Vivi squinted one eye, but the topic she didn’t pursue on. “I feel better that you told me, so, I’ll keep that in mind. Whatever you two need.” She downed the rest of her tea and handed mug with plate, over to Lewis. “We need to get a move on. I don’t want us rushing Arthur, if he’s had another rough night.”

Mystery yapped.

Slipped off the bar stool and moved around the room. Collecting the few bags and notebooks left strewn about – off the couch and end-tables – she jammed everything into a backpack. “Do you want Mystery and I to check in, after we get the meeting out of the way? That’ll be three hours, give or take.”

“I’ll be in fair shape,” Lewis assured. “Unless you need a break from Artie, too. Don’t worry about me… unless, you don’t wan me haunting your place?” Vivi laughed.

The last of the folders and the laptop went into the backpack, and she secured the zipper. “That’s tots cool, just don’t set off the fire alarm, or scorch the carpet. Uncle Lance won’t let go the tragedy of the vans ceiling. When did that even happen?”

Lewis shrugged. “Estoy tan perplejo.” Vivi passed into the kitchen and took Lewis by his faux ascot, pulling him down enough to give him a peck on the cheek. A little fluff of ember flashed from his hair but dispersed on the air, harmlessly. She bid him a final goodbye, and called Mystery to hurry along as she ducked out the entry. “Ella hace eso a propósito, pero me gusta.”

The door shut and like that, he suddenly felt very alone. The small apartment quiet; the heater wheezed gently throughout the unit, electricity whistled in the walls with its somber hymn. Somewhere out there, people would be getting along with their lives, normal as can be. Mundane routines, venturing here or there on private quests to fulfill minor roles of the day before the sun set, some even extending activities into the night when the world turned serene and quiet.

By a cruel swipe of fate, Lewis was expelled from that. He had no place to be specifically, no one was expecting him to arrive, he was not due somewhere or needed to be in a particular space of time. Aside from Vivi’s apartment, which was not an extensive or an endless mansion; or, Kingsman Mechanics where there was areas to move through or depart from.

Some minor files and notebooks remained on the couch, for Vivi’s personal archives – most of it handwritten messy notes, sometimes amusing or unflattering doodles decorated the pages. He gathered these into neat stacks and set them beside the lamp on the end table. It was much too quiet, prompting Lewis to drift over by the radio player and set his hand on the front panel. With a spark and nudge of his persuasive heat, the player chattered to life. The digital dial tallied through the various stations, voices and electrical instruments bombarded through the speakers, volume rising and then dipping as he set the device to a familiar old favorite. Passive tunes played through, affording some atmospheric warmth to the space where he was set to dwell.

It grieved him to admit that he didn’t want to be around Arthur – let alone anyone, for a time. Why was that? It was difficult to convey. Before, he was never like this; that he was certain of, or he wasn’t Lewis Pepper. Outgoing, confident in his own right, yet now, he needed solitude. Sometimes in Vivi’s passionate forwardness he forgot these things, forgot how much he missed the silence, the isolation. When did it begin, he wondered? Where was the break in the timeline – certainly not when he awoke. The heat that burned through him was vivid and unforgettable. The betrayal, not only of what… occurred, but what followed. Left behind and forgotten, for so-so long. Endless halls, doors one after the other, candlelight to comfort his wanderings. Seeking but internally lost, bound to that place by sensations and emotions he couldn’t shed. Nothing to ponder through, aside from the echoes of recollection and what ultimately led to his current state.

And the ever-present thrumming of his locket, aligned to a silent beat he no longer possessed. That was loneliest of all. The conviction and irrefutability of his reality. Lewis Pepper no longer was. It had all ended, and the world left him behind.

The dust atop the radio player was disturbed, but only slightly, when Lewis drew back his hand. He chided himself, but Vivi was very busy and when she was home… well, she only barely returned home. It would help him maintain focus and pass the time, if he did something productive. Where was the cleaning supplies? Did Vivi have cleaning supplies, at all?

One of the cabinets in the kitchen had suitable gear and cleanser substance, which allowed Lewis to at least get the hard surfaces in order. The kitchen itself didn’t have a great well of culinary space, and most the stuff Vivi bought was either fast meals or condiments, and one cabinet dedicated to teas and coffees. He didn’t have a specific cleaner for the cabinets, but some dish soap and a good rag would suffice to remove sticky substance or whatever else was left on the panels. She didn’t even line her cabinets, Vivi, what the heck? His parents would lose it if they saw the state of her stove; not that it was filthy (see Vivi-s preferences for meal planning), but it could use some attention.

Having worked in a restaurant for his life, it was no issue getting the space freshened up ceiling to floor. The one thing Vivi did have was a mop, in the bathrooms towel closet. He suspected that was more for random spills than the actual task of cleaning, but he scrubbed the small patch of hard floor and called the apartment a better living space.

Lewis put on his sunglasses before checking out the window, facing the small thicket below. He wasn’t worried anybody might see him at this height, but the sun would forever and always irritate him. The hour was still early, though he couldn’t recall what else Vivi needed to toil with before she should call the day well and worn past usefulness.

On the shelf above and below the radio player, there lined up numerous volumes on the spiritual and legends. Some of the books appeared aged and frayed on the spines, while others didn’t look older than a year; with glossy covers or crisp pages. He took one of the elder books, a text about ‘ghosts’, spirits, and phantoms. The book was not very detailed, but included photographs from the 1900s all the way to the more modern era, showcasing dreaded orbs and shadow people. He put the book back.

The next book, he decided to go through an older volume and try to decipher the nonsense. He eased back as if reclining on a chair of air, with his heel braced on the floor. There was included inspiring observations about residual haunts, and speculation that spirits are a substance of none substance, capable of easing through solid and immovable surfaces. Yadda-yadda, however, he did have issues when complicated obstructions such as cabinets or interior wiring was involved. He flipped through the book, further exploring insightful passages, such as manipulation of electrical devices or digital media. Boring. Did any of these books have any insight on how to be less spirit?

After returning that riveting intuition of publication manifesto, Lewis went next to a book of meditation. There were a few volumes along the same genre, and it made sense that Vivi would have them in her collection. She had a thing for channeling good energies, or chacra, or whatever; an important asset, he had come to learn. He hefted the book up and gave the front and back cover a quick inspection, before settling up into a float. The whole mind over matter deal might be more insightful than books of shadows, perplexities, and speculations.

The Mystery Van thundered as its engines heaved it up into the parking zone, for arriving vehicles of the Kingsman Mechanics. Typical of his ways, Arthur wasn’t even up when Vivi arrived, but she had anticipated this and thus showed up early in order for Arthur to get his bearings in order. After speaking with Uncle Lance, Vivi propped open the back doors and sifted through the packets of files and folders. At this point it was organization, pulling credible and intriguing information to the forefront while leaving lesser interesting portions to the bottom of the barrel – sort to speak.

Once more, Vivi thanked Arthur for lending her the van. She knew home much the vehicle meant to him.

Arthur checked through the backdoors, as he hauled up with an additional duffle of spare equipment rented by the university. Vivi noted he had opted out of his arm, though it didn’t seem to slow him down. “It’s us today,” she offered, with meaning. “Just us.”

Mystery padded around on the seat beside her and pushed his face against her shoulder. She gave him a soothing scratch beneath the dog chin, which compelled an appreciative whine from the pseudo canine.

“A self-care day,” she added, as Arthur slung the backdoors shut. “Go on, Mystery. No more scratchies ‘til later.”

“Self-care day,” Arthur repeated. He wound up on the passenger side, but upon seeing Vivi’s new placement, he sighed and made the long trip across the front of the van to the driver side door. He situated himself in the seat an pulled the belt across his chest. “Okay. Are you… sure?” A quick fix of the side mirror, and he turned the ignition switch. “Or are you saying that to make me feel better?”

“Lying to you wouldn’t make you feel better.” Vivi rebuked. While she relocated further into the passenger seat, Mystery plodded over her lap.

“Mystery!”

Arf!

“Mystery wouldn’t lie to you, would he?” she smiled.

Arthur had to stop the van at the exit chute, and get the dog under control. This ended, by him wrapping one arm around Mystery and hugging him tightly to his side. “Now, no more. We’ll cuddle war later.” Vivi assisted by snatched Mystery away, and hauling the withering pupper to her side. “I finished formatting the files. Are you wearing makeup?”

“Are you implying something?” she glared Arthur’s way.

“No! Not at all!” Arthur put the van into drive and eased forward.

Once they arrived at the city where the college was stationed, Vivi insisted they hit up a drive thru and grab breakfast, since she was ‘in such a hurry, and left without a goodbye.’ Those were her exact words. Arthur ordered some breakfast burgers and a tea. However, Vivi pulled an uno reverse card when they reached the campus, and insisted Arthur eat one with her and Mystery. Playing traitor was Mystery, sitting entirely too clos to Arthur while he worked to transfer files and simultaneously nibble on the burger, all with one arm between them. Mystery’s pleading whines sounded so mournful, it was near impossible to drop his eyes from the hound to do anything productive. Unless it was put a sandwich in his mouth. Then, Mystery would go quiet, his expression would change to an air of optimism, and he’d lick his lips. Or, shove his cold muzzle under Arthur’s chin.

Arthur hissed, “This is why you can’t hang at my place.”

Meanwhile, Vivi was doing a second browse of the files Arthur worked on, just in case. “Though that is under debate, if you don’t take better care of yourself.”

“Uncle Lance is keeping tabs on me.” He jammed the burger in his mouth and held it there, while he did some swift type up on the laptop. “All you people! I have a very slow metabolism.” Mystery licked his chin. “No one’s impressed with you.”

“I think you ignore your metabolism.” Vivi packed up the laptops, and reorganized the files for submission. Everything went into a large satchel made of canvas, with a two large buckles.

“No, but let’s get a move on anyway.” He shut down the laptop and disconnected the external hard drive. “Get this out of the way, so we can move on to more important things.”

“I hear ya.” They locked up the van and gave the doors one last go over, insuring everything was secure and that the beaten vehicle offered no enticing lures for the would be prospective vandal. It was a time like this, Vivi would have appreciated a certain spirit to keep watch other their things. Computers and other essential equipment was damn expensive.

The meetings were not too terrible, but they were mandatory and time consuming on some cases, especially with a group that had gone to such lengths to ascertain that none of the content was ‘out of place’, as Vivi referred to it. Paranormal Investigations, Forensics, and the Demonology Department were all located in the same section of building, in a structure that better resembled a sanitarium than an education department. It was in among the sparkling new or freshly refurbished halls of Business and Financing, and arguably out of place, though mysteries and criminal activity went hand-in-hand with such divisions. Through their work of investigating mystery cases and unexplained events, their correlation was aptly relevant among these industry’s trends.

In a certain crescent shaped room, a desk sat with stacks of files atop, alongside USBs, and an external hard drive. Among these items an Ouija Board lay, wrapped in a loose, clear plastic bag. In two chairs across from the table, Vivi and Arthur sat, as they directed their attention to the desk wherein a figure was typing into a desktop computer.

“A few more seconds. I appreciate your patience, as with your punctuality.”

“It’s no problem,” Vivi replied. She gave Mystery’s shoulder a rub; the dog left his head resting on her lap. “The assignment was very cut and dry. Mrs… Her, er, Hirstein, was very theatrical of the paranormal activities.”

The tapping stopped momentarily, and the figure moved out from behind the computer to browse the collected files on the desk. “I see…” she hummed. She took a tab of stickers, wrote on one of the pieces then pealed it off. “Will you elaborate on these theatrics, as you have transcribed it?” She returned to the desk and resumed typing, but at a bided pace.

Vivi shared a look with Arthur, and gave a nod. He began, “It was all completely blown out of proportion.” Arthur winced, when the typing accelerated, “The spooks we encountered were not hostile at all. A lil creepy, but not malicious. Not like some of our other cases where things, uh… kinda get out of hand. Y’know, with people terrorized, families harassed, angry, hostile, peeved ghosts….” He shuddered.

“They were displaced souls,” Vivi took over, “who didn’t realize time had moved on without them. Like residual, but sentient within a projected facsimile that included bystanders.”

The Department Head looked to Vivi. “From your tone, I anticipate you had some sort of experience?”

Hesitantly, Vivi nodded. “There’s an included recount… in the files. Arthur and I both had experiences, of some form.” Arthur shifted in his seat and looked aside. “There was no repeat or predicted frequency, is was a… temporal interjection, or hallucination projected.”

“Hallucination?” Arthur snapped.

“Hallucinations are not all bad, or indicate something is wrong with your head,” Vivi declared. “It’s merely a case of some event or visual portrayed through subliminal suggestion, and is sometimes the cause by, or enhanced, by outer extremities.” Then, she returned her attention to the Department Head:

“On that note, we performed extensive studies of the homes internal applications. The wiring checked out, appropriately insulated as per code standards.”

“And actually— Oh!” Arthur glanced from Department Head, and back to Vivi. “Should I say?”

“Go for it.”

Arthur indicated the files, “The wiring and furnaces on the first and second story received a complete overhaul, given the incident that… resulted in the ghosts, being unaware that they had passed. Spirits, I meant to say spirits.”

The Department Head took up one of the files, and flipped through the printed pages. “And there is paperwork, as evidence and relevance to the claims?”

Arthur leaned a little forward from the chairs back. “There’s no available paperwork, but I did snap pictures of the installation serial along with dates listed on the machines. That’s standard procedure for installations.”

The Department Head set aside the folder, then, reached for one of the USBs. “My only concern is that this assignment did not reach it’s expected timeframe – in fact, an extension was expected.”

“Is that somehow a problem?” Vivi inquired. “It wasn’t as difficult as Mrs…Hirstein insisted, and we were able to guide the spirits to their final path.” She pulled her hands off the needy Mystery, and gestured the table. “I have no reason to believe they will have further issues with lost spirits, if the children stay away from obscene board games.”

The Headmaster set aside the folder, and took up the Ouija Board. “It only becomes a problem, with clients such as the Hirstein’s. One client with false expectations isn’t the issue, but mishandling one or more clients can have negative impact on our future studies into the paranormal and occult. Studies go nowhere without funding.”

Vivi tilted her head sideways. “We understand. On the topic of professional relations, I did not appreciate the Hirstein’s treatment of my team, or their attitude to the situation. But our interactions with them remained civil, and we conducted ourselves with the utmost respect.”

Ruff.

The Department Head flipped the Ouija Board over. “The Hirstein’s?”

“Evidence.”

She set the board aside and clasped her hands together. “My department will keep your history with the Hirstein’s in consideration, for our eventual follow-ups. Is there anything else either of you wish to add regarding this assignment?”

“No… not really,” Arthur admitted. Mystery boofed.

Vivi stood from her seat, first glancing to Arthur. “I wanted to take the time to recap, that my team runs strict investigations. We’ll bring evidence, media, give our play-by-play reports, document eyewitness claims, but that is what we signed up for.”

Arthur reached up to his vest collar and tugged at the plush material. Mystery inched his way over and set a paw upon Arthur’s knee, and whined at him.

“Of course,” the Department Head acknowledged. “Your group is persistent and invested in the depths of lore, which you explore with grand vigor. I assure you, there will be no changes unless you first submit a request. On that note,” she looked to Arthur, “I spoke with Uber Jiver, with Engineering and Technology, and there is expressed interest in your participation with some of the advanced programs. Would you find it beneficial to your primary work? It could aid in new techniques, and perfecting a better model.”

Arthur grimaced. “That’s really swell, but the whole… building a better arm gig is something I kind of practice in my…personal time.” He reached down and gave Mystery the scratch he deserved. “And I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

The Department Head clapped her hands together. “That’s quite well. Once again, thank you both for your quality of work. We’ll be in touch.”

That concluded the entire meeting, for the day at least. Mystery’s claws tapped on the polished tile floor as he trotted between Vivi and Arthur, making the long march through the open halls. A few students stood out or about, passing on their way. The trio trekked out the large, glassed doors to the exterior sidewalk, interwoven among the division of academia. Arthur let loose the most dramatic sigh:

“Damn longest fifteen minutes of my life.”

“I think it was more like thirty,” Vivi mentioned. “Mystery, don’t run through the bushes! I just brushed you!”

“I lost an extra fifteen?” He capped a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Do you ever get this impression, y’know, the sort where she doesn’t believe? In what we’re saying. She’s head of Demonology and forensics, but she’s got some harsh skepticism game.”

Vivi held up a finger. “First rule of paranormal investigations, debunk or err on fantastical claims. Trust no one, until the relevant evidence is presented fully and truthfully.”

Arthur raised his palm off his springy hair. “That’s a mouthful, even for a fortune cookie.” Mystery padded over and ran around both Vivi and Arthur twice, before siding up alongside Vivi. “I know that. You know that, Mystery sure as hecken knows that.” Mystery yapped. “But I get this vibe she doesn’t particularly like us, like, it’s personal. You get me? I’m not alone in this, right?”

Woof!

“We go in her office, and it’s sort of special – ‘Ah, there you three are. Trying to sell me ‘ghosts’ in designer sheets again, I see.’” He bent his arm and put a fist to his hip and tilted sideways, “Pictures of shadows in places where shadows shouldn’t be? Tsk-tsk, that’s not how the school documents.”

“People always wanna make a buck off the rare and unusual. Haven’t we learned that?” She reached down and gave Mystery a pat. “It went a lot better than I expected. I guess the Hershey’s were satisfied with all the shenanigans, though I never once doubted Lew.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. Zilch doubts.”

Arthur kicked at some leaves along the sidewalk. “I give a dang, in only that they don’t seem to give a flunk. All bark, less ‘cAn I SPeAk toO yOUur maNaGER?’ I hate dealing with clients like that. Worse than the culty fanatics, and their sinister dark gods of cheese sauce, children of the corn, or whatever.”

“The most absolute worst.” Vivi adjusted her glasses and peered up into the overcast sky. “But even if there are problems, it doesn’t reflect poorly on our performance. And, we’re not gonna take their case again, even if it doesn’t close. We washed our hands of that, no worries. Chill.”

Arthur jammed his hand in a pocket. “Until the next clan of Hershey’s,” he sighed. It would be inevitable. “It’s only ‘cause we can’t get rough with assigned clients. OoOOhh, the school wouldn’t approve of our curbside services.”

Bark!

“What?” Vivi snapped. “We represent the prime cut of paranormal investigators.”

Mystery sighed and rolled his eyes.

The next order of business was clear the van of all supplies and work essentials, not only the electronics. Gear such as essentials for documenting paranormal activity, would go to Arthur’s shop for quality assessment. Everything else went to a small storage shed, rented not far off from the college zone. It was better described as a large atmosphere-controlled closet, for outdated files, along with other non-essential equipment; camping gear, and larger artifacts that wouldn’t fit at an apartment – and were kinda creepy or maybe a little cursed.

It took some time to walk all the supplies from the parking lane into the inner building, a task made more time consuming due to the process of sifting through which would go into the shed and what would be left temporarily at The Shop. It wasn’t an issue of hauling every last and overflowing box to the shed, but cataloging what was going into the shed. There was a trolley available for customer use, avoiding the issue of heavy lifting, and Arthur made good time with Mystery’s help. A good bulk of files and obsolete tools went to the shed, and one blue bike was hauled out. For Vivi’s use.

From there, it was a return trip to Kingsman Mechanics to drop off what remained of the equipment, plus whatever else didn’t get shipped out at the shed. It was Arthur’s continued role, to navigate the van through the wrap around of the carport. While Vivi was in the back hauling out equipment such as sage and spices from cuvees, and organizing the tech among rolls of spare blankets that hadn’t been moved out yet. The van easing to a stop spurred Vivi to pause in her work and check the front of the van. The interior alit considerably under the pressing glow of the central lights within the garage.

“There? Already?”

Arthur hummed, as he put the vehicle in park. The pop of a walkie-talkie snapped off, “Uncle Lance? Yo?” He slung around in the seat and tumbled into the back of the van, the whole affair made awkward by the fact he didn’t have a second arm.

The scratchy reply came back through, “Yer?”

“Vi and I are here. We’re dropping off some shit, and getting’ the spare truck.” He released the toggle. A few seconds later, the garbled reply came:

“Say over.”

Arthur sighed, “Over.” He scrambled on to the back doors and cracked them open. “I’m gonna borrow a flat cart and salvage boxes from parts, and park this stuff out of the way. We’re kinda in a hurry.” He paused outside the van, surveying the garage. “Over.”

“I read yu,” the reply crackled. “Lemme know if y’need anything. Over.”

“Thank yew, over.” Arthur darted off, out of sight and view for a short period of time. When he reappeared, it was hauling two large boxes one handed. He deposited them on the back, and Vivi began packing them with the equipment divided up.

“How many you reckon?”

“Hmm,” Vivi folded back and fitted her chin on her palm. “Seven, at most. Some of them I can’t fill all the way, though there won’t be shortage of space.” She grabbed Mystery by the collar, before the dog could attempt vaulting over the displaced equipment. “Hang tight for a few, would’ja? You’re gunna jar the merch.”

With a very doggish grumble, Mystery tumbled to his side and lay there dramatically.

Five more trips, and Arthur had supplied eight boxes for Vivi to work with. The rattle and grind of wheels bulldozed to the bumper. Arthur sided up to the back and used his hip to brace one box and gripped it around the side with his one arm, carefully, he crouched down to set the first box on the flat cart. This method was repeated for the five boxes, and once they had been set securely on the flat cart, Arthur used his foot to keep it steady while lining them up. While Vivi finished finalized the last box, he scooted up into the back space.

“Could I trouble you to nab some coffee, and see if anyone dropped off snacks in the lounge?” he posed, innocently. “And I’ll grab the keys for the backup truck.”

For the most part, Vivi was stunned. “Um, sure, I can do that. I gotta give the van another sweep before shutting the last box.”

Arthur motioned with his hand. During this, Mystery insisted on hopping up into and out of the van, impatience in his eyes. “I’ll go through the cuvees. Ooh, and don’t forget the books in the floor compartments, too.”

Vivi’s eyes lit up. “Shit! I completely, almost did!” She pushed the partially packed box aside, and fumbled for the seamless latch in the panel. “I doubt they’d go missing, but it’d peeve me off if I remembered I didn’t put them up someplace safe.”

Arthur patted a space on the flat cart with his foot. This enticed Mystery from leaping off the bumper, onto the flat cart. “We’re gonna catch up with Gala, and I’ll take a few of these up to the room.” He swung away and snagged the handle, bracing to angle the stubborn cart. But Vivi called out:

“You’ve been going overboard with the work, Mister.” She climbed from the vans back and straightened her skirt. “We’re not in a hurry, we just hafta park the van. Sit down for a bit, and I’ll go nab those refreshments.”

Arthur pouted. “And Galahad?”

Vivi sighed. “One thing at a time.” As she strolled by Arthur, she spun around and aimed an accusing finger. “And you’d better be here when I get back, or at the very least, not fighting those boxes up those stairs. Mystery, stay here and don’t let him get up to no good.”

The ears perked on the little dog, and his bob tail waggled.

It didn’t really mystify Vivi a whole lot, about Arthur’s eagerness to get the work done. At least work that didn’t involve specters or weird creatures, or whatever kooky stuff. He could focus and barrel onward with minimal resistance, equipment and engines could only have so many defects, and so many solutions. Such is the same of mathematical equations demanding straight answers, to unchanging numerals following unyielding laws.

Leaving the van at the body shop wouldn’t hasten repairs, but she figured Arthur was done with staring at the unsightly scar in its side. And maybe, he wanted some time to himself to work on his arm.

Someone brought in fresh muffins and cupcakes, likely from a local bakery. She went through the boxes, scavenging for something Arthur might like that was super sweet and bad for him. The coffee available in the pumps was stale and cold, so Vivi took it upon herself to fix up a smaller pot to brew some fresh. While the coffee brewed fresh and hot, she tucked two cupcakes in the microwave and just gave them a few seconds to warm up – not enough to melt the icing but to soften them. A trick she learned from Lewis. For a ghost, he knew a lot about making the best of boring foods.

It was hard to get Lewis to talk about things like that. She remembered, the people she met back when Arthur was in the hospital. The confusion and wrongness felt, when they tried to connect with her. They knew her from somewhere, and if she was honest with herself, she knew who they were – like, knew them from somewhere, an acquittance, but that was it. That was about it. The history she had, before the accident, she didn’t fully grasp. The whole event frightened her, because she recognized something critical was missing. Something from her, between them, which connected them all together. Arthur knew, but he was too crushed to admit anything other than regret.

What really stuck with her, was how much she cried. She didn’t understand why it hurt so much to stand before those people, and insisted she didn’t know anything. They asked questions, so many questions, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

She snapped back when the buzzer went off on the microwave. Fuck, the icing was all runny. She tossed the cupcakes and tried again, this time setting the timer to five second increments.

Armed with a spare cup of sugar, one coffee, and three gently warmed muffins, she returned to the back closest of the garage for shipments. Arthur was nowhere in sight, but Mystery was still upon the flat cart awaiting patiently with his chin between his paws. Vivi inched up and set one muffin on his paw, and Mystery began nibbling at it politely.

“Where’s Artie?” she pondered aloud. Someone was in the van, fumbling around. “Art?” Something within thumped or whumped.

“Oh, you’re back! That was fast.” Arthur emerged at the back doors, rubbing his ribs under his left side. “S’that fresh coffee?” The communicator in his vest pocket began gargling about something undercarriage, up until Arthur reached in and flipped the volume down.

Vivi cast a careful eye over to the flat cart, unmoved. Then, looked past Arthur into the van, and saw the boxes undisturbed. She handed the muffins over when Arthur leaned over. “How much sugar you want in your coffee?”

He sat on the bumper and began digging into the first muffin. “Just pour the whole thing in.”

Vivi bit on her lip. “You sure? There’s half a cup here, and it’s… two cups of coffee or less. You were really hungry. Everything all right?”

“Famished,” Arthur gasped. “Maybe half then?” He glanced back into the van, then looked to Vivi. “It’s looks supe- hot.”

The sugar was cool and by the power of science, would lower the heat in the coffee. Not by a lot, but maybe enough he could sip it. Vivi dumped a portion of the sugar into the little cup and gave it a stir. “Did you manage to scrounge up the rest of our gear?”

“Mmm, no. Yes. I got distracted.” He set the coffee aside, and lifted up the disposable plate. “Look, no food. I ate it. Happy?”

Mystery nodded.

“I’ll finish going through, then.” Vivi climbed in past Arthur, and went to the slots nearest the back doors. “You’ll still need to give it a last pass, just to make sure.”

“Right.” Arthur appeared stiff, or put off by something. “I’ll… wait ‘til you’re finished, so we don’t overlap.”

She stopped and glanced his way. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Arthur slipped off the bumper. “I’ll check the front, and maybe clean up a bit.” A few moments following Arthur’s voice fading out, the driver side door opened. Noises of fumbling and supplies shifting, items – obviously rubbish – scattered, or rebounded through the space beneath the bench seat.

After some time, when Vivi was finalizing her scrutiny of the cuvees and organizing a few last mediocre bits of supplies – such as spare sage or graphite packets – Arthur vanished from the front seats. Vivi doubted he did any cleaning.

Shortly after, the harsh grind of a flat cart wheezed its way to the back doors.

“I just need that last box,” Vivi mentioned. “There are a few odds and ends, but I checked everything just to be sure.”

“Yeah,” Arthur mumbled. He stepped back beside the right-side door and looked at the boxes. “You wanna take these up to the workstation? I need to put the other two boxes on here – they have cameras too.” He dug around in his pocket, until he produced the key ring.

“Is something up?” Vivi took the key as she plopped out. “Just let me know, and I’ll help. What it is.”

Arthur blinked and raised his brows high. “No, nothing’s up. I didn’t sleep well last night, and it’s kinda catching up.” He leaned around and took up the coffee, for a sip. “It’s gonna be a bummer, bein’ van-less for a few weeks.”

“Yeah.” Vivi positioned herself behind the flat cart and began swinging the rear wheels, lining them up with the large doorway adjacent to them. “But at least the van can get repaired. And, it’ll be sort of like new. There’s a bright side to this.”

Arthur groaned, and took another sip of his coffee. It was almost completely gone. “It could have been worse. I’ll give it that much, but no more.” He tossed the cup onto the plate and climbed back into the van. “Not like this’ll be the last time something….” Vivi didn’t hear what else; something about roasting or toast. Arthur probably wasn’t wrong.

“Wanna ride, Mystery?”

The flat cart could maneuver all through the receptionist’s area, and back into the employee area behind the wall that shielded off the stairs. Mystery lightly drifted off the cart, then galloped up the steps to the upper work area. Hauling boxes up wasn’t a grand ol’trial, foremost they were not heavy, and second they were not large. The containers served to separate the equipment, and one of the boxes Vivi transported to the room was full of parts for Arthur’s arm. She didn’t leave that at the work room, and opted to cart it to the private quarters where Arthur worked on designs and unique projects.

Mystery was keeping constant company, and nearly underfoot at every turn in the narrow corridor. Vivi went ahead and opened Arthur’s room, just to make sure she put his essentials where they needed to be before they got misplaced. She paused beside his work desk and looked over the different schematics and sketchy designs, shapes and cogs in uniform colors. There was no sign of Arthur’s current arm, though he might’ve placed it somewhere safe. Unless there was an evident issue, or he seemed to be in visible pain, she wouldn’t ask. He might even provide an easy excuse, or might’ve provided an earnest but dismissive reply. Regardless, it wasn’t her business, not until it began to gnaw on Arthur, then and only then would she make it her business.

Upon returning to the shipments, she found Arthur going through the cuvees. However, it was apparent he was distracted and unfocused with the monotonous task. He didn’t react as she stood there, watching him for five full minutes. Beside her, Mystery leaned forcibly into her knee and raised his doggish eyebrows.

“I know something’s up, ‘cause you ate food without me bitching.”

Arthur yelped and crashed sideways with a hollowed Thunk!

#mystery skulls #msa #mystery skulls fanfiction #the-headbop-wraith #msa fanfiction #mystery skulls ghost #msa lewis #msa arthur #msa mystery #msa vivi #fanfiction #mystery skulls fanfic

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missrkl · 4 years ago

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Descendants of Acts 2

Chapter Seven

Rachel was not happy. Rachel was at home in her monthly pain and she didn’t really want to take painkillers this day. The second day was always the worst. Shedding the lining of her womb was extremely unpleasant. Blood clots and all, bowel change movements, and all sorts of other health problems. Rachel wasn’t a happy bunny. She couldn’t even read the Bible or listen to a sermon. She just wanted to distract herself from the physical pains of life. So she sat curled up in front of the tv with her blanket and hot chocolate. Dark chocolate mind you, 87% cocoa which was known to reduce inflammation and reduce blood sugar. Rachel had her banana lined up for fibre and her porridge and granola and muesli for her bowels. She sat there watching this show called Gossip Girl. Not a very edifying show, but she liked Blair Waldorf, her fashion was classic. Plus she liked that there was a blog that was famous and everyone was really into this blog. Rachel had written Blogs, but nobody had seemed interested in it, not the people who mattered to her anyways. Rachel also liked the love story that played between Blair and the known bad boy Chuck Bass, he only became known to make good choices because of Blair, she was a good influence on him. Without her Chuck Bass would indulge in all the sinful bad pleasures of life trying to drown out his misery of no Blair Waldorf. Rachel could only wish she meant that much to someone, or had such a powerful positive influence and impact on a man in her life like that. Rachel snuggled up closer to her fluffy blanket. She really didn’t want to do anything today. T’was a Sunday as well, she was supposed to be online in church zoom rooms, but she didn’t attend. On top of that, she was bloated and full of gas. No wonder in the Old Testament women with their monthly bleed were treated unclean, she literally felt unclean, physically. She didn’t feel pretty at all, how could she possibly go on zoom and show her face and pretend to be all happy clappy?

Scrolling through her phone whilst the show played on the tv, Rachel represented 90% of the millennials of this day, all gadgets ablaze and short attention spans! Rachel scrolled through her social media and found pastor Gabriel. There he was with his family, all having fun, and his wife beautiful all natural with the green grass and nature all around. Eugh, if only she wasn’t on her monthly bleed then at least she’d feel as clean as his wife looked in the photo. Rachel even scrolled and found Matt, rewatching old posts of him singing and commentaries. Always a powerful smile on her face whenever she did so. She never got tired of rewatching his old stuff. Did she fancy him? She wasn’t sure. Probably not, Rachel reasoned with herself. He just had an aura of joy around him and within him and that always came bubbling to the surface and flooded over onto her whenever she watched him. That didn’t mean she fancied him. It wasn’t like she was turned on by him or anything. The only guy who ever turned her on was there on her screen now, Fabio. Rachel sighed as she scrolled through his new and old photos. Despite having physical attraction to him, Rachel always felt unhappy looking at him, thinking of him, reminiscing about him or even remembering him. Why such a stark contrast between Matt and Fabio? Rachel wasn’t sure. It’s not like she’s used to having to deal with feelings and emotions about guys like this. This was the first time Rachel had socials in this church. Before this church Rachel wasn’t really a socialite despite having been in another church prior to this one. Rachel was always alone. This church was forcing her to be social, she had no idea what she was doing, what she was feeling, what it all meant and everything was just confusing her. Rachel scrolled off Fabio’s page, Eugh, good looking, but their past of socialising online had made her become unhappy with him. Matt must be on some Holy Spirit level that Fabio wasn’t, that must be the only explanation. Rachel continued to watch Gossip Girl. Blair Waldorf and Serena Van Der Woodson played their parts on the screen. Rachel enjoyed their little drama’s, although if any of these church people were to see her now, on her lowest days, watching this stuff, they’d most likely be appalled.

Rachel logged onto her Twitter, she didn’t really like scrolling through Twitter, she just looked at the few people that mattered to her. Like Juliet and Jill and the senior minister of the church and Coventry and the pastor there that she had become a part of them during this pandemic. David then messaged her on the phone saying he wanted to hang out with her even if it was just in the VR world since they lived far apart. Rachel wasn’t really in the mood, should she blow him off? Rachel has been known to blow off socialising when it comes to her monthly times. Wrecked at home and having not washed and the place in a mess. Rachel did not deal well with pain. Rachel sighed. Why did he want to hang out with her now? She knows it’s just VR, she had a character already dressed up, but she wasn’t really in the mood to listen to him chatting, and playing the game felt a lot more like work during times of pain. Rachel ran a hand through her greasy hair, she should really have a shower. If anyone at the church could see her now how aghast they would be. Surely they couldn’t be anything like her, greasy oily, lazy, lethargic, in pain, with a can’t be bothered attitude.

Sighing Rachel got up and had a quick wash. Despite just being on VR she didn’t like to talk to any man, even if there was no viewing, feeling unclean. She liked to feel like a woman, not that she wasn’t a woman when she was unclean, but she wanted to feel beautiful and clean. It just made her feel uncomfortable. Rachel changed the channel to play YouTube worship album and then washed up the dishes and did a little cleanup, just tidied up really, she didn’t like talking to a man and looking at her surroundings to see herself living like an animal. Crossing her legs on the couch Rachel logged in onto the laptop and used her VR headgear to log in. As her character flashed on the screen Rachel came online and David was already waiting for her. David acknowledged her presence and instead of going to the market they decided to go to this special place called the Flower Field, it was basically a park and had some benches and flowers. They decided to sit down on the bench and have a quick chat. David shared about the burdens of his week whilst Rachel listened quietly. Clearly he needed to talk. David talked about the pandemic and how it was affecting him and his family and the stress of it all. Thank God for this VR he said and for her, it really did feel like he was going out despite it just being VR. Virtual worlds was really something. Rachel agreed, she loved it as well. Probably a little bit more than she should. In the real world she had not accomplished very much, didn’t have that many friends, wasn’t very social. Church attendance was the only social she normally had. David and Rachel talked about their day and Rachel omitted from the conversation about her monthly, but shared her weariness and fatigue and physical pains and other problems.

They soon decided to go to the market just for a leisurely day out during the pandemic. David had bought Rachel a bunch of red roses. How sweet! This was her first reception of such a gift and even though it was virtual the kind gesture made her feel beautiful and wanted. Isn’t that all she wanted? To be noticed, to be considered a beautiful woman? To just be a woman? The men in her church had a way of making her feel ugly, unwanted and definitely not a woman. The other women made it worse by wearing dresses and showing legs and limbs that she had no desire in showing. Only once she did, in rebellion to a certain pastor who really peeved her off, some lady from the encounter she had gone on a few months ago walked behind her, worshipped behind her and then told her about her short short shorts. Clearly the pastor had no idea of her inner rebellion or anger at him. That was pastor Gabriel. This wasn’t the first time. Another time she had wanted him to care for her and they was at an evangelistic event at a pub, so she proceeded to buy strong alcoholic drink and swirled it around in her glass for him to be aghast and come over and over tell her to stop it. Did he? No! He didn’t bat an eyelid. What did she have to do to get some attention around here? Anyways..Rachel continued walking around the market trying to forget her many inner frustrations and she found a ring, it had written engraved inside Favour of God. She so wanted that. The description of the ring said that this would bring the favour of God to you and in whatever situation you would find yourself you would find yourself redeemed by the favour of God. Rachel bought it. She definitely needed that.

They decided to visit the Land of Samaria and as they arrived there Rachel had forgotten that their characters were Israelites, this was Descendants of Acts 2 game of the holy Bible and Samaritans and Israelites were sworn enemies. They had entered the Samaritan town and the Samaritan market and were just taking a look and a bunch of Samaritan citizens all filled with rage at their appearance came and surrounded them. They wanted to stone them! Rachel and David, unsure to what to do geared up their weapons unsure as to what to do or what would happen. Rachel was wearing the Favour of God ring and soon the ring was shining and as it shone the people became less angry and soon their anger dissipated as they began to favour Rachel and they was able to pass by the stalls and then go back to their normal territory. David was like ‘thank God for the favour of God. We could have lost a life!’ Rachel laughed and said ‘thank God indeed’. They parted ways and as Rachel logged off she was grateful for the little things in life, especially during this pandemic. Like the VR world and the VR David, even though he was real in another part of the world, even the VIrtual bible school on zoom, even the tv and Netflix and even Gossip Girl. Rachel began wondering if she should edit her character to have the fashion dress sense of Blair Waldorf? Or have the hair or Serena Van Der Woodsen? She made some changes here and there and enjoyed herself, God was a good God indeed. Fellowship in any format had the power to bring healing and Rachel was glad for it. With a more optimistic mindset Rachel found herself having more of the mindset of Christ now, focusing on the things worthy of praise rather than the pain in her body, and indeed the favour of God was present with her even now, in the real world, also known as the tangible presence of God.

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sunnybimbo · 7 years ago

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Pidge sickfic!

Feel free to check out the rest of the series on ao3 here!

Prompt: Suffer in Silence - for whatever reason, (character) doesn’t want anyone to know they’re sick, and does everything they can to hide it

For the last ten minutes, Pidge had seen nothing but the light of her computer, which only grew more and more fuzzy as time went on. She’d yawned so much that her jaw was sore, and her ear rang with a faint ache.

It was probably long past time to go to bed, then.

She stretched out her legs until her bones cracked and her muscles twinged in protest. Then, with a loud grunt that echoed in the dark room, she pulled herself up and gathered her computer.

With it securely pressed against her chest, she began the short trek to the bedrooms. The hallways were dead silent, besides the whir of the Castle's engines as they blasted through space.

Her door squeaked as it opened, and she made a mental note to ask Coran to look at it whenever he had the time.

Pidge yawned again, not bothering with shedding her clothes and instead dove into bed face first, shoving her laptop securely into the corner of the bed.

She was asleep about two seconds later.

---

When she woke, her chest was heavy with... mucus, it felt like? Or heavy air? She had to resort to breathing through her mouth, too, as her nose felt stuffed full with cotton.

She blew her nose on her shirt sleeve before she thought of the consequences.

"Eugh..." Oh, gross... her voice even had that sick, nasally quality to it.

Vaguely, as she rolled out of bed and shed her long-sleeve shirt, she hoped she didn't catch some sort of alien virus that killed the infected within 24 hours. What a cliché way to die.

With a loud snort, she finished blowing her nose on her already dirty shirt and grabbed her laptop. She'd probably feel better by the end of the day, anyway. And if not, she could just nab some medicine before bed from the med-bay.

---

"Woah, Pidge! Lookin' good." Lance grinned as he passed her on the way to the kitchen for breakfast. "Trying to show off your new paladin-muscles?" He pinched her exposed arms and she groaned as she batted him away.

With a frown, he pressed the back of his hand against her shoulder again. "You're a little warm there, Greenie."

She flapped him away again, and Hunk spoke up before she did. "That's probably why she took her shirt off, right? It has been a little warm lately."

Lance made a face, a corner of his mouth twitching downwards, and she held back a sniffle. Instead, she accepted whatever bowl was placed in front of her and slowly shoveled spoonfuls of it into her gullet.

With a helpless shrug, he sat back down and began to eat his own breakfast.

The rest of the meal was relatively normal. Keith and Lance prodded at each other, and Shiro praised Coran and Hunk on their joint efforts in the kitchen. Allura wasn't with them that morning, but that wasn't too unusual.

It was unusual that Pidge was, instead of gradually waking up, nodding off into her bowl.

When she'd accidentally stuck her nose in the food goo for a third time, Shiro placed his hand on her shoulder. It took a moment for her to register its presence, though, and by then he'd grown a worried look across his face.

"Are you feeling alright, Pidge?"

She rubbed at her eye with the back of one hand, pushing her bowl away with the other. "I'm good."

"If something's bothering you, we can-"

"I'm fine, Shiro. Really." She shoved herself out of her chair and trotted off, holding in a snort until she made it a couple of feet down the hallway. Alteans really needed to invest in tissues instead of handkerchiefs.

Once she made it back to her room, she realized that it may have been a little rude to just stomp off like that. But it was whatever. She'd feel fine later, anyways, and apologize then.

She curled up in the corner of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest as she began to nod off again. All that congestion was making her head feel heavy.

God, she missed her mom, though. She'd always been able to tell just like that whenever Pidge wasn't feeling well. And she'd always heat up some of her favorite canned soup - tomato, of course. Screw chicken noodle. - and would even throw in a grilled cheese if her throat wasn't sore.

And her dad would come home from work early, if he could, and he would sit next to her head and tell her all about the things he'd seen while preparing to go to space. All the while he would be running his fingers through her hair, teasing her about the knots she'd always seemed to miss in the back without Matt's help.

God, and Matt would burst in later, as if she were dying or something, and he would hold onto her hand and promise that he would find a cure. She was just lucky he cared that much, probably.

Pidge rolled her torso until she collapsed against her pillow, tangling her fingers in the sheets to simulate holding someone else's hand.

She fell asleep with her face buried as deep as it could go in her pillow. If she focused hard enough, it kind of felt the way her dog's belly would whenever he let her lay on him.

---

She woke up to someone holding her hand, and she squeezed tightly until whoever it was shifted their legs, squeezing back.

Instead of being half-curled in a ball, she was now laying on her stomach underneath what felt like a billion duvets, and it felt like someone was sitting beside her?

Her eyes cracked open, still as heavy as they felt when she'd passed out, and she had to blink twelve dozen times in order to clear her vision.

The lights were low enough not to hurt her slightly throbbing head, and her nose felt a little better than it did before.

Someone tilted into her view, and she turned her head.

"Keith?"

Said Keith jumped about a foot in the air, startling both Hunk and Lance into nearly spilling whatever they were drinking all over their pants. That caused her to crack a smile, and Keith visibly relaxed, thumb awkwardly rubbing against the back of her hand.

"You're sick." He helpfully informed, and she had to resist rolling her eyes. "We got worried when you stayed in your room all day after breakfast, and-"

"And Hunk here had to hack his way in before Shiro acted too rashly and tried to stab it open with his hand." Lance interrupted, nodding sagely. "We were super worried about our baby paladin."

They could have just as easily asked Allura or Coran to crack open the door if they'd thought about it hard enough, but Pidge didn't bring it up. Instead, she rolled over to face Shiro, who had claimed the side of her bed next to the wall.

He pressed his fleshy hand against her forehead, a frown creasing his brown. He'd grow lines there with how often he frowned these days. "Why didn't you tell us you weren't feeling well, Pidge?"

She chewed on her lip until Lance shoved his hand in her face, rubbing some sort of balm on them despite her contesting him every step of the way.

"I just... I dunno." She felt her lip tremble a bit, and her voice cracked as she continued on. "I usually never had to tell anyone."

It took a few moments for the words to sink in, but as soon as they did, Shiro looked extremely guilty, and his whole body sagged as if he were literally weighed down by the words.

"I know it was stupid, I just..."

"It wasn't stupid, dude." Hunk offered her a warm cup. "You're just homesick. And we probably should've payed a little more attention to you, anyway."

She took a long sip of what was probably medicine mixed in with something else to hide the taste. Matt usually did the same thing, whenever he could.

Her breathing stuttered, and she felt two different hands press warmly against her back. "I don't feel so good." She mumbled, and her nose stung as tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. Blindly, she reaches out until her arms wrap entirely around someone, burying her face into their neck until the humidity of her breath wet their collar.

Hunk grimaced at the feeling, but he let her cling nonetheless. He wasn't a stranger to a little hug therapy– whether or not someone was covered in tears or... something half-digested that got spit up again. Instead, he climbed onto the bed with her and Shiro, and hoisted her into his lap until he was cradling her.

Lance tugged Keith onto the bed with him, reaching across Hunk's legs to hug Pidge from behind. By the way his back bowed down, it wasn't the most comfortable position in the universe by any means, but he was doing what he felt he needed to do to offer comfort to his hurt friend.

Shiro touches her next, his hand coming to rest first against her forehead again, then running his palm back to push away her sweaty bangs. And he continued the motion until it became a soothing sensation that did wonder to calm her down again.

Keith lastly came up behind, fitting himself between Lance and Shiro to push his hand against her back, a few of his fingers fiddling with her hair fringe at the nape of her neck.

It was a lot more touching than she was used to in the recent months, but she didn't feel up to pushing them away. She kind of liked it, anyway.

And, while she didn't think anyone's hugs could match up to her mom's, Hunk was very comfortable and soft, and he didn't mind her tears dripping down onto his neck. And Lance was murmuring something vaguely comforting next to her ear, and Shiro's and Keith's touching was doing wonders to make her body relax.

It was very warm in the pile on, but it was a good feeling. Maybe next time they could start with this in the first place, a pile of slightly sweaty bodies lumped together until one of them inevitably got sick, too.

And maybe next time they could make room for her dad and Matt, too.

#pidge #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #jam writes #im 90% sure this is the first sick fic i wrote and put up on tumblr #ask to tag

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