w1nd0ws10

[aracnidaarmagedon]

NEW COALECROUX ANGST JUST UNLOCKED, I AM ACTUALLY CRYING

[martianbugsbunny]

We Are Mandalorians: Our Love Must Be Forged (An AxePaz Fic)—Chapter 9

Righty-ho, this is the chapter where things get worse for like a second but in a really fun way and then everything is gonna turn out great. It’s literally my favorite part of the entire fic tbh, except maybe the happy ending (which I promise is coming eventually!) Also, I don’t remember if I’ve used any Mando’a before in this fic, but I don’t think I have, so the rule for big phrases is Mando’a is the actual dialogue and the translation follows in italics. Singular words that are probably common knowledge among Mando fic fans are just as-is, but here is a link to the Wookieepedia page about Mando’a just in case. Anything I use can be found there. Enjoy!!!

“Paz, will you say the vows with me?” Axe asked.

Paz was weary; Axe could see it the way he nodded. And yes, it seemed futile to do it in a pit, at the end; but if not then, it would be never.

“Mhi solus tome,” Axe began. We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.” Paz took the next line, his breathing labored and his voice hoarse with exhaustion. We are one when parted.

“Mhi me’dinui an.” We will share all. Including death.

“Mhi—ba��juri verde,” Paz said, and Axe’s heart ached when he heard how Paz’s voice stumbled on this part. We will raise warriors. He took Paz’s hand and squeezed it tight.

The footsteps in the cavern above came closer to the edge of the pit. Paz leaned his helmet against Axe’s. “I love you,” he whispered. “With all the strength of my heart.”

Axe longed to prolong the Keldabe kiss until the end, but he was tired and he was afraid and his nerves were absolutely bare. “Let me hold you,” he said, his voice trembling. “Let me die with you in my arms.”

Paz laid down with his head in Axe’s lap, his breathing slow. His right arm seemed stiff, and he curled his left around Axe’s knees. Was it the most comfortable of positions?…No, not really, but it wouldn’t matter for long anyway. Axe draped his arm across Paz’s upper body, fingers clutching at the cloth beneath his armor in hopes of feeling his pulse one last time past all the garments of war.

Just as the footfalls above reached the edge of the pit, the sound of blaster fire split the air. Bodies collapsed, beskar alloy ringing out against rock, and Axe held Paz tighter. “I love you too,” he said. He didn’t know what was happening up there, but he couldn’t let Paz die without him hearing that.

The noise died down and Axe heard a jetpack fire. Seconds later, a Mandalorian in shiny silver armor landed in front of them: the notorious redeemed apostate Din Djarin. “They’re alive!” he called up to the edge. “They need medical attention!” He knelt down in front of Axe and pulled off his helmet to make half-direct eye contact. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Axe didn’t know what to do, what to say, so he shook his head. “Take care of Paz first,” he insisted. “I can wait. He needs help.”

Din pulled Paz to his feet. The strain of the past few days had definitely caught up with him; he looked like he was about to pass out. Axe didn’t feel much better than Paz looked, but like hell was he going to let himself be attended before he knew his husband would be healed. As Din left the crater, holding Paz securely by the waist, Bo-Katan dropped down next to Axe.

“Where’s the fleet?” he asked. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth. “They were gone, or I would’ve come back with—”

“Easy. TIE bombers attacked and they were forced to flee. They’re back in orbit now, and the Imperial base has been destroyed. Gideon is dead and what remains of the Imperials are being hunted down and eliminated, including the ones who were about to shoot you like ducks in a barrel.” Bo-Katan tilted his chin up. “You rescued a Child of the Watch instead of fighting?”

Axe inhaled and took a moment to clear his mind before responding, to make sure his words would come out without being jumbled. “He’s my riduur,” he said. “I couldn’t—leave him to die.”

Then he blacked out, falling face-first into Bo-Katan’s arms.

[singledarkshade]

Alone

Summary: He hoped Gideon had been listening when the signal went out, as brief as it had been, and it reached her otherwise he would probably die here. But as the last of the Time Masters, maybe it was time. Author’s Note: Day 3: “I’ve seen darker days.” – Terrible things have happened to Rip throughout the show, but as fans we’re good at thinking up more. It’s Whump Day!                                ********************************************* Rip Hunter, former Time Master, former Time Bureau Director, former Captain, former husband, former father, and current recluse walked slowly through the deserted space station looking for the point of origin of the distress signal he was tracking.

The station had been shut down for years and, from what he knew, there should be nothing working at all. Never mind a signal made by technology over a hundred years ahead of when the station existed.

He checked the tracker on his modified courier for the information Gideon had provided for him. Rip shook away his sadness at the fact they weren’t together, but current circumstances meant they weren’t able to be.

Reaching the coordinates, Rip frowned when he saw the object and realising that what he’d been tracking was a trap set by Time Pirates. Turning he began to run through the corridors back to the Time Sphere, hearing the device charging. Reaching the Sphere, Rip jumped in and activated a time jump but before the portal closed the Sphere was rocked by an energy wave. Rip grimaced as he fought to steady the small craft, but the blast had disabled several of the systems.

“Come on,” he muttered as he tried to keep the small vessel inside the time stream long enough to reach his current base of operations, but the sphere didn’t have the same redundancies the Waverider did. Suddenly the time stream disappeared, and Rip saw the ground rushing towards him. Slamming the button to activate the emergency beacon, Rip managed to grab the disaster kit and activated the sphere’s version of an airbag before he hit the ground. Aware of things smashing around him, Rip’s head slammed against the console before everything went black.

Rip woke slowly.

His head was throbbing but as almost every other part of him was aching, it was in the majority. Forcing his eyes open, Rip could see the Sphere was completely dead and in complete disarray. He was lying on his side, his legs trapped beneath the seat and Rip felt any hope of rescue die quickly seeing the beacon was as dead as the rest of the Sphere. He hoped Gideon had been listening when the signal went out, as brief as it had been, and it reached her otherwise he would probably die here.

But as the last of the Time Masters, maybe it was time.

He’d been alone for so long, betrayed by those who raised him, by the man who he looked up to and almost thought of as a father, then forced to destroy them, the people he loved were all dead while those he had once called friend presumed him dead and probably had a party at the fact.

Perhaps it was time he finally did.

“Please,” a mocking voice drawled, “You won’t die. I’m not that lucky.”

Turning slightly, Rip frowned as he saw a familiar woman sitting just to one side of him, “Sara?”

“Well,” Sara Lance said amused, “Your brain is still working for the moment.”

He frowned confused, “Why are you here? How are you here?”

“To make sure you actually die this time,” she smirked at him, “Since you clearly didn’t after the Mallus thing. I don’t want to have to worry about you trying to take my ship. Even if there’s no way you could, it would be inconvenient to have to put up with the attempt.”

Rip closed his eyes as he thought of his ship, his home and Gideon who he knew worried about him while he worked away from her.

“The Waverider is mine,” he breathed, “You’re currently allowed to use her.”

Sara laughed, “Do you really think you could walk onto the Waverider and even get a chance to say a word before we had you in the brig, bound and gagged so you couldn’t talk to Gideon? She wouldn’t accept you back anyway. After how often you’ve abandoned her.”

“Gideon knows…”

“What?” Sara demanded, “That you care about her? You’re fooling no one, Rip. We all know the only one you care about is you. Gideon was just a means to an end, a tool you used and threw away when you found something better. You can pretend to yourself that you asked her to come with us but,” she smirked, “We both know she came with us to get away from you.”

Rip covered his eyes with his hand, “No. She knows why I left, she understands.”

“You’re so pathetic,” Sara shook her head, “No wonder Druce was able to manipulate you with ease. You’re desperate to be loved, desperate to be relevant but let’s face it, Rip you’re not. I mean look how easy your beloved mentor fooled you,” she paused and smirked at him, “The love of your life was probably screwing you under his orders.”

Rip flinched at her words, at a deep unspoken fear he had that could never be eased since Miranda was gone, being spoken aloud.

“Because who could possibly love someone like you?”

With a cry Rip threw the first aid kit at her, it bounced off the shell of the ship and fell to the ground. Rip closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

 The pain in his head was worse when Rip woke again, touching his forehead he winced as he felt the wound there. Pulling his hand back he saw blood coating his fingers. That explained the pain.

“Injured again, Rip. Honestly if it wasn’t for our medical technology, you would have been dead years ago,” Druce said, making Rip flinch when he saw the man sitting where Sara had been earlier, “But then again you should have been dead a long time, that worthless brat we found living on the streets.”

“You’re dead,” Rip whispered, horror filling his voice.

Druce smiled darkly at him, “Am I? You know better than anyone how to fake your death.”

“I didn’t fake my death,” Rip replied coldly, “I simply didn’t let the team know I survived. They don’t care anyway.”

“Well, that is true,” Druce noted, “The team you brought together learned very quickly how worthless you are. They have a leader they actually listen to, someone who can fix the ship as well as programme the AI and a historian. Where would you fit in?”

Rip closed his eyes.

“And even Gideon,” Druce continued, “Your dear Gideon, she doesn’t need you at all. The only people who ever needed you, Rip, you utterly failed to protect.”

“Stop,” Rip snapped.

“Miranda would have been so much better if she’d never met you,” Druce reminded him, “And your son probably would be alive now is she’d never let you know him.”

“Stop!!!” Rip screamed, the memory of Jonas dead in his arms hitting him and tears filled Rip’s eyes, “Please, don’t.”

“Failing at everything you’ve ever tried to be is bad enough,” Druce ignored Rip’s pleas, “But that little boy, so innocent and full of life deserved so much better than you.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Rip cried, turning his head away sharply, it connected with something solid and fell into unconsciousness once more.

                                 *********************************************

 Rip felt sick as he woke up once more to the empty Sphere. At least Druce was gone but the feeling of hopelessness his former mentor had left him with remained.

He had to get himself out of this and find a way back to Gideon to repair his injuries but right now, Rip had no idea how. His mind was fuzzy, it felt like it had been filled with cotton wool and he wanted to just give in, to simply sleep but he knew he couldn’t.

“You were never lazy,” the clipped voice of Mary Xavier told him, “You have plenty of other faults, but I will admit you’ve never been lazy.”

“Mother,” Rip whispered.

She shook her head, “Oh, Michael, what a mess you are.”

Shaking his head, Rip sighed, “Please, don’t. I can’t take it from you too. You’ve always encouraged me.”

“Well, that was my job,” Mary reminded him matter-of-factly, “To take the children I was given and make them Time Masters. I had to act like I cared about them.”

“Mother…”

“I have never met such a needy child as you before or since,” she sighed sadly, “Desperate for approval, desperate for love, desperate for someone to tell him he is good boy.”

Rip stared at her through tear filled eyes, “Don’t…”

“It was so easy to get you on the right path,” Mary continued, “Bake with you, tell you stories, pat you on the head and you were my little lapdog.”

“I love you,” Rip whispered.

“I know, Michael,” she smiled at him sympathetically, “Which was why it was so easy to train you.”

Rip closed his eyes, “Go away, go away, go away.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say to your mother, Michael,” she admonished.

“You’re not my mother,” he snapped, “Because she would never say these things to me and she…”

“She?” Mary motioned him to continue when he trailed off.

Rip whispered, “I don’t know where she went after the Time Masters were destroyed.”

“For all you know,” she noted, “She’s dead.”

He nodded.

“One more person you claim to love who you failed,” Mary told him.

“Mother…”

“No, you don’t get to call me that anymore,” she told him sharply, “Only someone who would care to look for me can call me that.”

“I looked,” Rip whispered.

She ignored him continuing, “Only someone worthy of the love I gave deserves to call me mother and you are nothing more than a worthless pathetic failure.”

Trying to move to her, pain stabbed in his legs and Rip cried out, Mary shook her head before she disappeared.

 Rip realised suddenly he was hallucinating. Which considering he’d seen three people who’d disappeared, one of who was definitely dead, meant his brain was not functioning as it normally would.

“Head injury,” Rip murmured to himself, “But that doesn’t explain hallucinations this vivid.”

Taking several deep breaths, Rip hunted through the emergency pack lying beside him for some water. He took a few sips from the canteen, realising he could smell something on his clothes. A strange sickly smell that he hadn’t noticed before and grimaced, “Bollocks.”

The booby trap wasn’t just an energy blast, they had included a hallucinogen probably activated the moment Rip had walked into the engine room of the station, to disorientate the victim while the pirates raided their ship. If it was the one that he thought it was, then it was going to get a lot worse before it wore off. Rip knew he was not the poster child for good mental health and dreaded what else his subconscious would dredge up to taunt him with.

Suddenly remembering he had a courier, Rip looked around to find some components to see if he could modify it to signal Gideon.  Rip groaned finding it smashed beyond repair, so there was no way it was going to open a portal to the Waverider. He had to find a way to make it sturdier if he survived this.

“Focus,” he murmured to himself, “Focus.”

“You always could focus.”

Rip felt the knife in his heart and tears fill his eyes, “No.”

“Now is that any way to greet your wife?” Miranda asked sweetly.

Raising his head Rip stared at the woman before him, the woman who had stolen his heart before he’d even realised that he liked her.

“Miranda.”

“My darling husband,” she smiled at him before noting, “You look terrible by the way.”

Rip closed his eyes, “Not you, please not you. I can’t hear the things I feel about myself from you.”

“Oh, Rip,” Miranda whispered, “It’s only the truth you’re being told.”

“I know you loved me,” Rip whispered, tears slipped down his cheeks, “It’s one of the only truths in my life.”

“Are you sure?” Miranda asked, “Because let’s face it, dear you are not good with people. And I was taught to lie just as much as you were. In fact, more since I was raised by the Time Masters from a much earlier age.”

Rip winced, “Don’t…”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t fun pretending to love you,” Miranda mused, “When you are focused on doing something well, you really work at it but…” she trailed off with a smirk.

Remembering how he’d managed to get rid of the hallucination of his mother, Rip looked up at the beautiful women he’d loved in a way he’d never known himself capable of.

“I love you,” he whispered before he deliberately moved his leg sending a stab of pain through his leg.

As Miranda disappeared, Rip dropped his head and wept.

 Managing to stop his tears, Rip forced himself to concentrate on working. His resolve instantly dissolved at the small voice piping up, “Daddy.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Rip cried, “Please stop.”

“Don’t you miss me, Daddy?”

Looking up Rip saw the earnest face of his son looking down at him and whispered achingly, “Jonas.”

“Don’t you miss me, Daddy?” the little boy asked again.

“Every day,” Rip breathed, “I miss you every day.”

“Then why did you leave me?” Jonas asked a confused pout on his face, “Why weren’t you there when the bad man killed me? Why didn’t you stop him?”

Rip stared at him, no longer able to cry, “I tried, Jonas. I tried so hard for so long. I’m sorry. Please forgive me, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t deserve to be forgiven,” the little boy scowled at him, “You deserve nothing.”

Reaching out for his son, Rip whispered, “Jonas…Jonas…Jo…”

The world spun and Rip fell into blackness.

                                 *********************************************

 “Gideon?” John called as he scanned the area, “Are you sure this is where the beacon came from?”

“I am, Mr Constantine,” Gideon replied, “The Time Sphere should be within view soon.”

John sighed, the problem with being the only member of the crew who knew Rip was alive was that Gideon expected him to go searching without any back-up when the idiot got himself into trouble.

“Why is he using that and not the Time Courier, which would let him step from place to place?” John demanded, “Isn’t that much easier?”

“Captain Hunter prefers to use the Time Sphere as there is a possibility someone may try to follow him through the portal back to his base of operations,” Gideon explained before adding, “An issue the Legends have experienced.”

Continuing along the path, John finally spotted the Time Sphere or more accurately what was left of it. Running over, John grimaced finding Rip trapped and unconscious with blood dripping down his face.

“Damn it, you crazy bastard,” John snapped, “What the hell did you do this time?”

Crouching down beside his friend, John checked for a pulse, relieved to find one. Slow but it was there.

“Gideon,” John said, moving junk off Rip, “I’ve found him.”

“Excellent, Mr Constantine,” Gideon said, relief evident in her voice, “Is he injured?”

“It’s Rip,” John replied wearily, “Of course, he’s injured.”

The man in question groaned, murmuring something about not being able to take it anymore.

“Typically,” John continued before Gideon say anything, “He’s also pinned beneath parts of the Time Sphere, I need to get things off him then get him to the med bay. From the look of it, he’s going to be in a lot of pain and possibly bleeding heavily.”

The portal to the medical bay opened beside him and Gideon told him, “I am waiting for you.”

John grimaced, he pulled the loose bits of kit out of the way before managing to shift the seat pinning Rip to the ground off the other man, releasing his legs but unfortunately this meant the wounds it had been pressing on began to gush blood.

“This is not going to be pleasant,” John murmured as he gripped Rip under his arms, “But hopefully you’ll stay unconscious, and Gideon will have you on the good drugs soon.”

Pulling Rip out of the Sphere made him cry out but thankfully he didn’t waken. John managed to get him into the medbay then onto the medical chair and attached the cuff to Rip’s wrist.

Gideon instantly began to scan Rip, sedating him and started the healing process.

“I suggest once you clean up the blood on the floor,” Gideon said, “That you get something to eat and drink. I shall contact you once Captain Hunter is awake.”

John sighed, grabbing a cloth he gently patted his friend’s shoulder.

 “Captain,” a gentle voice invaded the blackness, “Wake up, Captain.”

Rip squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t do this anymore. Not with Gideon, she was all he had left. Why couldn’t he stay unconscious? Why did his mind have to torture him like this?

“It’s alright, Rip,” she continued, gentle fingers stroked his hair, “You’re home.”

Slowly opening his eyes, Rip found he was in the parlour of the Waverider with Gideon sitting at his side.

“Are you real?” he asked softly.

An amused smile touched her lips, “That is a discussion we might wait to have until I am sure you are well enough to debate.”

“You know what I mean,” Rip frowned at her, “Am I hallucinating you or am I on the Waverider?”

Gideon squeezed his hand, “You are currently in the medbay, under my care and sedated so you stay put.”

Relief filled him.

“From your blood work, you were exposed to the hallucinogen, SL27,” Gideon spoke up.

“I knew it was something potent,” Rip sighed, looking at her sadly, “What I saw…”

“Was not real, Rip,” Gideon reminded him, “It was your subconscious fears brought to life, voiced by people you would listen to.”

Rip stared at her, he wanted to rest just for a short time with his best friend before he had to leave once more but unbidden the question slipped from his lips, “Did Miranda love me?”

“Oh, Rip,” Gideon whispered, “Of course she did. Miranda was deeply in love with you.”

He shook his head, “I know, I do know but…”

“The hallucinogen you were exposed to has played with your mind,” Gideon sympathised, before stating, “I have something for you from my memory banks that will help.”

Rip frowned confused jumping in amazement as Miranda appeared before him dressed in her wedding dress with a worried frown on her face as she paced a small strip in front of him.

“Is something wrong, Lieutenant Coburn?” Gideon asked her, “Are you having second thoughts about the wedding?”

Miranda shook her head, “No. I can’t wait to marry Rip. I love him more than I knew I could love anyone.”

Rip felt tears fill his eyes but stayed quiet as the scene played out before him.

“Then what is concerning you?” Gideon asked.

Sighing Miranda confessed, “That by marrying him I’ll be holding him back. I know Rip is destined for great things. I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t reach his potential.”

Gideon turned back to Rip and hugged him tightly as Miranda disappeared.

“She loved you,” Gideon reminded him.

“I’ve never felt as alone as I did when the vision of Miranda suggested she never loved me,” Rip took a shuddering breath in, “I thought I was going to die there.”

“You are never alone,” Gideon assured him, “And I will always come for you, my dear Captain.”

 Rip dressed after his shower, happy to be home wishing he didn’t have to leave again but he knew the team needed Gideon to guide them more than he did for now. Besides the noise they made hid his work from those who would try to interfere.

“Your new Time Courier is ready, Captain,” Gideon spoke up, “And Mr Constantine is waiting for you in the parlour.”

“Thank you, Gideon,” Rip gave her a quick smile.

Grabbing his freshly laundered duster, Rip rested his hand on the bulkhead before he walked up to the bridge where John was waiting for him.

“Thank you,” Rip said, “For coming to help me.”

“Gideon gave me no choice,” John told him, an amused smile touching his lips, “But you’re welcome.”

Rip chuckled softly, “I’m assuming the team are visiting family or taking a break while you’re here.”

“Actually, they’re in the middle of a mission,” John shrugged, “Gideon assures me she can return the ship to the exact same moment we left.”

“She can,” Rip nodded, “And I should let you go.”

“Captain,” Gideon said softly, “You do not need to leave so soon.”

Stroking the central console beneath her avatar, Rip sighed, “I do. The longer I’m here, there is a greater probability that the crew will discover my survival.”

Taking a deep breath, Rip picked up the bag with the supplies Gideon had made for him before tapping a few instructions into his courier.

“Gideon, please reset the preferences within the base to allow me access via portal?” he asked.

“Of course, Captain,” Gideon told him.

“John, thank for finding me,” he said to his friend, “Take care of Gideon.”

John shook Rip’s hand, “I will but I don’t want to have to save your sorry arse again, so be more careful.”

“I’ll try,” Rip gave a slight sardonic smile, opening the portal he left the Waverider once more hoping it wouldn’t be for too long.

[fanfoolishness]

All right! Off to liveblog Chapter 9, The Marshal!

Ah yes, recap. “Traveling for me, that’s no life for a kid.”

Except searching and searching for a Jedi takes time. Except Din and the kid fall into routines and habits and sweet little moments throughout the day. Except Din dreams sometimes, in the dark of deep space, that there are no Jedi... that the kid will always need him, and he wakes from these dreams feeling both grateful and guilty

Moff Gideon totally killed those poor Jawas, didn’t he.

What would it be like to be a Jawa, to find joys in scrap and metal, to dream of Egg???

To scavenge, perchance to dream....

I LOVE LOVE LOVE all the graffiti art for this scene

Also, Grogu’s pram absolutely got scorched in the flame trooper’s assault and Din didn’t go back for it or anything. Yet they’re using the one Kuiil made? This bothers me and it’s so petty.

3PO made it into the graffiti <3

Grogu is a budding art critic, change my mind

Gor Koresh, such a dick. But I love the music being so reminiscent of Jabba’s palace! Ludwig Goransson, you’ve done it again

I wonder if Grogu gets overwhelmed picking up Force vibrations in crowds? Is that a thing? Or does he mostly just get senses from other Force-sensitives?

Wherever I go, he goes. BECAUSE HE’S YOUR SON DINGUS

I can’t believe how adorable Din is, going on to total creepos about the fact that he has Been Quested

It just speaks to a very sweet earnestness on his part

“Put up your armor for the info” and Din: swivels his head like woah

What is Gor Koresh going to DO with the beskar anyway? He’s not even wearing any???? What a prick

He absolutely deserves everything coming to him

But Din even gives him a chance! What an idiot

Kick... BABY! (Anyone else ever play Peasant’s Quest on Homestar Runner???)

I always forget about the whipcord. How do I always forget about the whipcord?

Ooh Mando has a very homey cape this scene, I like

I’m glad he’s leaving this guy to be devoured by monster dogs, he’s gotta protect any other Mandalorians that may run across him

Does Razor Crest strike anyone else as a rather feminine ship? It reminds me of a sea cow. She’s got a belly on her.

PELI MOTTO MY QUEEN

She’s sooooo happy to see Grogu and he’s delighted to see her too and they’re all just so happy together

“I’m here on business.” Does that mean that they sometimes hang out not on business? Oh, what the hell, I’ve already written the fic.

Peli doesn’t dare leave the city walls. But maybe she will again someday? Sit a little in the desert, feel the suns on her face, the wind in her hair?

Is this R2-D5? Like, THAT R2-D5 that the Jawas nearly sold Luke?

The speeder bike has rusted. This lends more credence to my theory that Din and Grogu got to have a good amount of time together!

Grogu LOOOOOVES SPEED

Boy’s gonna be a pilot some day

I just... love... all of Din’s visits with the Sand People so much

Siiiiigh I love all speeder music in this series so much. Again, Ludwig Goransson, YOUR BRAIN

Just imagine being a little kid riding in the speeder with your dad, knowing he’s gonna take care of anything scary, and you get to go fast and see everything and feel the wind and it’s so delightful and you feel so safe even though you’re going 200km an hour <3

Hmm so a whole night fell on the way to Mos Pelgo. I just love watching episodes and looking for pockets of time that I can exploit with fic :)

Just imagine a Tusken calling him out and signing the word for “your son” and Din just having to go with it.

I always forget there is a little notch under the ear piece thing of his helmet. I’ve been drawing the damn thing for 2 months and still don’t have it down.

Short!cape version, activate!

Fake Boba Fett: *arrives*

Did he seriously have spurs back in the day? God I need to rewatch the original trilogy, don’t I?

Din watching Vanth order spotchka and being confused as hell, like “you know we’re not going to drink that in front of anyone, right???”

The body language in this scene is so good. The way Din stops, mid-step, and freezes. Then breathes, heavily, frozen in place. Ready to fight. Pissed as HELL. Take. It. Off.

Oh Din. “He’s seen worse” is not exactly a ringing endorsement for your ability to keep him out of trouble, lol.

Just imagine Grogu curiously feeling the vibrations of the krayt dragon and thinking he’s never felt anything so BIG in the Force before

I always forget what the name is the for the liquefaction of soil during a severe earthquake.... *doublechecks* goddamn it it’s just “soil liquefaction”

Doodle idea: Din having to clean tobacco spit off Grogu’s clothes from the spittoon

Awww Din’s speeder is so tiny next to Cobb’s pod racer engine speeder

Cobb Vanth: *runs away, steals ice cream, I MEAN A CAMTONO*

Yeeeeah running into the desert was maybe not the best way to survive in most cases

Luckily Jawas on Tatooine are honest and want to trade instead of steal his shit

I’m excited to see how shit goes down in the Book of Boba Fett! Do we get to see the Sarlacc escape on screen, FINALLY?

Weequay bartender: “But who WAS that masked man??”

Pew

God I miss the amban rifle so much!

It’s such a weird and sexy weapon

Do the dog things have a name? Tusken snarlies?

Every time Din speaks Tusken I die a little bit because I love it so

Awwwww he’s brushing the bantha’s teeth!!! It’s just very sweet to see

Grogu: ‘plz to not be eating me”

Din: *so fucking impatient about this guy not drinking a fucking gourd*

Grogu: *yay I love it when dad shoots fire!*

I love the sign for “kill it”

I also love how done Din is with petty squabbles, like, at all times

He just has no chill. Just “stop your whining, dammit.”

Grogu: “my dad is so smart”. He’s hanging on to every word Din says

Grogu: *watches dragon* DO NOT WANT

I love it when Din gets sassy. “They might be open to some fresh ideas.”

“It’s to scale.” *cackling*

Din volunteering the village is very yes. I also love when he is just absurdly old-fashioned. “Dragon will kill you if it takes its fancy, yadda yadda”

More energy thoughts from Grogu — everyone focused, tense, worried but Grogu isn’t sure why

A bantha is essentially a ground Appa and my husband votes to rename them a Grappa

Sand People always ride single file, to hide their numbers

Ooooh is this the same “the village rises up to defend itself” motif as when the Sorganites were training with Din and Cara?

It sounds very similar, but I could be making this up entirely

This episode was so fun on first watch but it doesn’t have a ton of emotional heft. I still like it, because I love all of them, but it’s definitely not as ripe for expansion of content as some of the others. Except, of course, to the Din/Cobb shippers, who said “hold my beer” and went off. Have fun, you crazy kids.

Run Sand People run!!!!

Seriously though Star Wars suffers from a serious case of the ecology never making any sense. What do banthas eat???? There’s gotta be SOMETHING for them to eat!

Krayt dragon: LOLOLOLOLOLOL

Mando tiiiiime but imagine Din glancing over to Cobb and for a second forgetting and being glad to fight alongside another Mandalorian but then he isn’t

Also there’s definitely room in this episode to write some cute little camp out scenes with Din and Grogu, awwww

Farewell to Mos Pelgo!

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 9: Darksaber

A/N: OVER 3K BABY!!! This is the longest thing I have written in a hot minute so please give it a read. Thank you @dindjarindiaries​ for motivating me today with ALL of your content. If any of you are lost towards the start of this that’s because Day 8 is part 1! If you have trouble looking for it just use the iwriteforthetincanman writes hashtag on my blog! THANK YOU!!

This is for @leo-moon​ ‘s Mandoctober!

Something was wrong. That was a fact you clung to as you roused from slumber, a headache brewing behind your eyelids. It was like real life had become the dream and sleep, a reality that had slipped away. An echo ghosted through your mind, a feeling that you knew who it was came and went...it sounded so familiar?

It was highly unusual to wake up in pain, unless that's what woke you in the first place. Although you had a sneaking suspicion that you had been in pain since you had passed out too. Then there was the cold...everything else was warm but you could feel the cold on your cheek. 

Beskar.

Din.

“D-Din?” A wheeze left your lips as you reached out to your Riduur. It was like he was asleep himself the way he sat, still as a statue. As soon as he heard your voice, he startled awake, his hands carving through your hair. 

“Cyare...you scared the life out of me, I thought-I thought you were dying.” Realising he was no longer wearing his helmet gave you a weird helmet. It was a rare sight to see the rest of his armor on his person whilst missing the helmet. The only reason he would’ve done that is if he was giving you CPR. 

“I’m okay...I think.” Brows furrowing in frustration, a hint of a thought wove its way through your brain. “I...I think I know why this is happening…” Trailing off, you saw the panicked look in Din’s eyes grow into an inexplicable fear. Were you dying? The thought shocked you into damage control. 

“I’m not dying but...I think someone is trying to kill me.” The accusation itself confused you, but then again you had no idea how right you were. Din’s expressions morphed into so many different emotions, it was difficult to keep track. Without the helmet, he was just a man...to you at least. That didn’t make him any less dangerous. 

“Are-are you sure? It was like you were having an extreme panic attack, or someone was…” Realisation dawned on your lover’s face, all other emotions falling away. It scared you how still he was, fingers no longer stroking your hair. Faintly, you could hear his heartbeat under his armor, otherwise you wouldn’t know what to think. 

“It was like someone was strangling you.” His voice was much deeper now, sinister in a sense. Not to you, you knew he was angry but he was angry with the force that was trying to kill you.

...The Force.

Someone was trying to kill you through the use of the force!

That’s when it hit you.

“...Moff Gideon.” Your face matched your lover’s. You were afraid, apprehensive and yet angry with the events that were occurring around you, to you. 

“Moff Gideon is trying to kill you, without being anywhere near you, using the force. It’s the one thing we can’t fight against.” Din’s grip grew tight around your body, as if he were protecting you just by willing it to happen. Part of the force worked like that, you knew that much about it. 

Right now...you were powerless to stop it. The child could only do so much, but reaching through space? To another person? It was next to the impossible. 

“Din...right now. All I need is you by my side.” Trying your best not to cry again. You knew the inevitable was approaching. All you wanted was for him to be near you, even if it was coming to an end. 

Silently, you watched as Din’s anger broke, revealing how torn up he really was. Tears flooding into those sweetly intense eyes, he refused to let them fall. Scooping you up in his arms, he carried you to your bed.

---

Sleep was also inevitable. Which is why you weren’t surprised to find him there, waiting for you. Like he had never even left. 

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t it?” He smirked to himself, he sat in some sort of throne, legs crossed. He was comfortable. What got on your nerves was how smug he was about it. Glaring into his soul, you restrained yourself. You were in your mind and the force was on his side. If anything, he could easily do more harm to you than you could to him. The whole situation was insanely unfair. 

“Is it even worth answering? You’re in my mind. You could learn anything you wanted about me!” Shouting across the void, angry reverberated back at you. It was like anything you did, reflected on the storm clouds brewing above. Anything Moff Gideon did, had no such effect. 

Glancing around, all you could see was the emptiness. It was like you had stepped into a room with no limits. All you could see was him and that dumb throne, like he had taken control away from you. 

“Looks like I have all the control when it comes to your mind Y/N.” He continued to smile down at you before standing, stepping down from his throne to walk across the void, towards you. Although he was walking at a leisurely pace, the cape that swished behind him highlighted how menacing he truly is. 

“But I’m not here to hurt you. Not this time anyway…” At this, you growled. Confirming everything you and Din had suspected. Chuckling to himself, he continued “I’m here to make a deal with you.” Immediately your anger vanished at this, concern overtaking your whole body as you tensed. There’s only one thing he could possibly want from you…

The baby.

“I will never let you have him.” You were determined to stay strong, but the whimper you let out was pitiful. 

“No? Not even if I turned my control over to your husband? Made him suffer the way you did? Perhaps even kill him? And leave you all alone with the child instead?” Gasping, the clouds above reflected a blue hue. Your true emotions were on full display to the enemy. You were backed into a corner. Either he could kill you and expect Din to break, give him the baby or you could listen to what he has to say and let them both live. 

“...Fine. Please, leave the Mandalorian out of this.” It felt like you were begging, but in reality you knew you would do anything for Din. Even if it meant fighting for a warrior’s death.

“Very well. Next time you land, I will send a ship for you. You will find a way of escaping the Mandalorian...and bring yourself to me.” This proposition surprised you...he didn’t want you to bring the kid?

“Do this...and I will leave your husband and child alone...forever.”

Now why did he have to go and make it an offer you can’t refuse?

---

The unforgiving metal you were resting against made you want to cry. It was nothing like the beskar you were used to. Your body kept reminding you of all the differences between now and then. It was like a backwards game of spot the difference. Except this was much more dangerous. 

Moff Gideon no longer had a grip on your mind. That was only because he was standing in front of you...in person. 

Earlier you had woken to find Din happy that you were still alive. He was apprehensive yet grateful for the next day of life the Maker had gifted to you. You had managed to lie, telling him you felt so much better, before somehow convincing him to land the Razor Crest on a peaceful planet. One where you could get as much sunlight and fresh air as you wanted. 

It was all just a farce. An act. 

It hurt you so much to lie and betray your Riduur. It felt like you were going back on your vows. Throughout it all you reminded yourself, you were doing this for him and the child, to keep them safe for the rest of their lives. 

That all came crashing down when the ship collected you in the middle of that flower field. It stood out violently and you were certain Din had seen it as it came into land. 

This theory confirmed itself as you stepped aboard, turning back to spot your Riduur, the child in his arms as they both just stood there and watched. You could sense the horror behind their eyes as tears fell from yours. Mouthing the words that you were sorry, the doors shut and you flew away. 

It took all the strength you had not to fall onto your knees when you arrived, not in front of that much evil. He had already gotten what he wanted, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry as well. 

Now, he had you in this complicated contraption that was somehow a mix between a chair and a gurney. The metal, a bitter reminder of what you had given up and in exchange what you had received. 

It had only been a couple of hours, but the torture was relentless. Moff Gideon had put your mind through hell to see how far you could go before you snapped. He had the force, you knew that beforehand, yet you underestimated just how powerful he was. He didn’t want any information, he just wanted you to suffer.

No physical harm had come to you, but it felt like you were close to death. You were so tired and a myriad of dots danced before your eyes as you glanced around the room. It was a cell despite how many buttons and controls were placed on the walls. If Din could see you now you knew he would be horrified, you must’ve looked like a corpse. 

You weren’t dead yet. But you knew you were pretty close.

---

The sounds of a distant battle were the next thing that woke you. For a moment you thought you had finally succumbed to the darkness, all the hurt and pain had collapsed on top of you, forcing you to sleep. But a battle could only mean one of two things, either the rebellion was attacking the Imperial ship or…

Din was here.

Just the thought of your husband made you move to get out of the chair, pain screamed back at you in retaliation. It gave you a clear message, you weren’t going anywhere. 

But if Din was here, here for you and he might die trying to get to you. You sure as hell were going to fight for him. Even if it meant you were only going to see him one last time. 

Imperial soldiers were many things: treacherous, hypocrites and sometimes, if you were lucky, they were very stupid. Which is how you came across your tools stashed in your belt. They weren’t the kind of tools that were visible. No, these were lock picking tools that were hidden on purpose. 

It took a couple of minutes, thankfully no one came in to check on you at that time but finally, you were free. 

---

No guards were stationed outside your cell, which meant they must have been called away towards the fight. Din had been a part of many battles, but aboard an Imperial ship? You couldn’t begin to imagine how severely outnumbered he was. 

Limping down the endless hallways, you followed the sound of the fight. Knowing that at the other end of it was your husband, you only hoped that your limp wouldn’t keep you from a fatal mistake. This whole decision was a mistake, you knew that now. 

It was a trap Moff Gideon had set for you and you only.

Din’s grief was just an added bonus. 

Finally reaching the room of the fight, you discovered that all the soldiers had already been taken out. The only reason for that must’ve been a weapon of immense size and had enough ammo to take on an army. Well, in this case, it kind of did. The Razor Crest was parked at the other end of the hangar.

All that was left was Moff Gideon and Din Djarin in a vicious fist fight. 

...And Din was losing. 

You knew that if you didn’t act now, Din was going to get himself killed and all of this would’ve been for nothing. The only thought you had was that if this was going to happen, you wouldn’t want your mistake to take Din away from you in its wake. 

Limping into the hangar, Moff Gideon didn’t even notice your entrance as he held out a weapon you didn’t recognise. Not until he activated it at least. 

An ominous black blade shot out, made of light and outlined by a white glare. A darksaber.

Only hearing about them in stories from the past, you knew lightsabers were flashy but they were twice as deadly. They could kill you in an instant, cauterising wounds as soon as they were made. Din didn’t stand a chance, even with the beskar. None of his weapons matched the darksaber’s intensity. 

Launching forwards, the both of them clashed as Din used some sort of a shield. Part of the ship, you recognised. The sinister sorcerer retaliated, lashing out with the darksaber searing through the shield. By some miracle it held up. 

“HOW DARE YOU TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!” The sound of Din screaming out in pain scared you to the point where you thought he was dying, not you. 

“She came of her own free will, Djarin. To protect you!” Sneering down at him, you couldn’t help the strength that returned in the form of pure rage. 

“SHE WANTED TO PROTECT THE CHILD! FROM YOU! YOU-MONSTER!” He was so infinitely angry, he was blind to his actions. You were scared for him. Sprinting back towards Gideon, Mando attempted to bring part of the ship down on his head. It was a stupid act, a rare kind of mistake for the Mandalorian to do. 

Yet, he prevailed. 

In shock, Gideon let go of the saber. With it falling out of his grasp, it clattered to the floor. It was almost like the whole scene was taking place in slow motion before you. 

“I loved her...and you killed her. All for a child?” Din’s voice was broken, if all he did was look up right now, he would see that you were still alive. Broken in places, but alive and right in front of him. 

“I wasn’t after the child...not this time.” Moff Gideon panted in agony, blood gushing from a gash on his head. You could see that much. But now was your time to act, while his guard was down.

Three things happened in the next moment.

Firstly, whilst they were talking, Moff Gideon’s hand moved towards a blade he had hidden away in his robes, fully intending on driving through the space between the bottom of Din’s helmet and his neck. 

Secondly, you felt a deep and complicated feeling overtake you once more, causing you to reach out this time. Not fall to your knees in agony. Now was no longer the time for pain. You were a lion that had been kept in a cage, prodded and poked at. This time you would bare your fangs and lash out at your captors.

Thirdly, as Moff Gideon swiftly got to his feet, running at Din, the Mandalorian stumbled backwards in surprise causing him to trip over debri. 

In the moment he fell over, all he could do was watch as you drove the dark saber through Moff Gideon’s chest.

As you retracted the blade, a wet gargle left the man’s throat as he fell sideways. Revealing your worn and beaten from to your Riduur. 

Despite everything that had just happened, you were so happy to see him. 

Falling to your knees, you collapsed into his chest. 

“It’s over, it’s over. We’re finally safe.”

As you sobbed, you finally slipped away, in the arms of the man you loved.

---

Over a week later you awoke.

“Din?” This time your voice croaked from not using it. Not because you had been screaming in your sleep. 

“Cyare.” Turning to your side, you observed the scene before you.

You were all in a hut, the sound of children playing outside bringing an unexpected amount of normalcy. 

What gave you peace of mind that you were all well and truly safe was the sight right in front of you.

Din was dressed in simple clothes, a tunic and pants, no shoes and no helmet. His hair was freshly washed and had dried in the sun, letting his curls be shown freely to the world. He smiled down at you, immensely grateful you had woken.

As he made his way towards you, you grew aware of the warmth tucked into your side. Looking down you spotted the child curled on top of the blanket and you, fast asleep. 

“You’re awake.” He whispered, crouching down at your bedside. 

“I thank the Maker that I am. I wouldn't have missed this wonderful sight for the universe.” You joked, combing fingers through his hair. That was when you noticed the countless bandages winding up your arm, no, your arms. 

Noticing the light flicker in your eyes, Din explained what had happened.

“You were gravely wounded Cyar'ika. The healers said you were lucky to have pulled through at all.” Moving your hand to his cheek, you looked upon the face of the man you married.

“I’m here now. We’re free. We can...start our lives as a family, together.” Din beamed at this, his pearly teeth on full display as he leant down to kiss you, gingerly at first.

As the kiss deepened, you remembered how long it had really been since the two of you had shared any form of affection. Yet, something else popped up in the back of your mind.

“Din-wait.” Pushing him away, it pained you more than the wounds that littered your body. 

“What is it?” Confusion laced his features as his eyes flickered across yours.

“I think...I think I’m like the child. That was how I killed Moff Gideon...I used the force.” 

As you spoke these words into the air, it disturbed the peace you two had created in just a few short moments. Din Djarin turned his face, his eyes landing on the object that had been resting on a table for the past week, untouched. Sure, you two were free and about to start a new life all together. 

But now was the time you and the child would train.

Two Jedi and a Mandalorian. 

It sounded like the start to a bad joke.

[purplebass]

Couple/Characters: Wessa, Tessa Gray and Will Herondale Rating: T

A one shot about the night James Herondale was born.

Winter, 1886

 It was a night like any other.

Tessa was relaxing in bed, reading one of her favorite books. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. The blanket of her bed covered her form up to her chest, the book comfortably sitting on her belly as she turned the pages. She was dead tired after a full day at the Institute, and she had a stomachache that wasn’t going away, even if she didn’t eat that much food at dinner.

It was one of her usual evening activities, reading. She loved reading, and the last six years she had spent at the Institute were full of books. She couldn’t think of the number of titles she had read thanks to the spacious library they had there. Of course, some books were also given to her as a gift, and she was grateful to have met another person who loved them as much as she did.

Books gave her comfort, but they also helped her take her mind off thoughts that bothered her.

Like that night.

It was true that it was a night like any other, but that night her belly also felt weird, and she felt anxious. Tessa wasn’t the stressful type, but for some reason, she was feeling upset. It was as if she felt that it wasn’t a night like any other at all and she was lying to herself that it was.

She sighed and shook her head. She shouldn’t let her mind wander. She took a deep breath and focused on the book, but to no avail. She looked at the words written in black ink, but she wasn’t paying attention. She put the book aside and caressed her stomach. According to Jem’s estimation, it would be around thirty-nine weeks by the end of the month, which was in a couple of days. Her back hurt and she had contractions every couple of minutes, could it be that…?

“No, Tessa. What are you saying? It’s too early,” she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. She hadn’t found good books about pregnancy, so she could rely on what Jem had told her the last time they had met and some scratchy information about the topic. That when the time would come, she would know.

In that moment, she felt like she knew it was time.

“It’s time” she said to the empty room. “It’s time, James” she said as she put both hands on her stomach.

It was past midnight, but she had to call someone. At least ask for a Silent Brother. How she wished Will was there with her, but he, Gabriel and Gideon were on patrol duty that night, so she was alone besides for Bridget, their cook. Will didn’t want to go because he had seen the tiredness on her face, but she had forced him to, since she had still managed to reassure herself that night wouldn’t be different. That on that night, nothing would happen. Yet.

She needed to get out of the bed and go to her room to let her know. She tried to move her feet to the side of the mattress, but they felt heavy because she was exhausted. She needed to do it, so she put all her strength in the movement and she made it. Her feet were on the cold pavement of her bedroom. She got up despite her back was hurting like hell.

She put a reassuring hand on her stomach and started to walk. It wasn’t difficult as she thought it would be, she just needed to put one foot in front of the other until she would get to Bridget’s room to get help. She reached the stairs. Her room was on one of the highest floors, but the servant’s quarters were on the ground floor, so she would have to take a few flights of stairs…

She put her hand on the banister and started descending. She was telling herself that she could do it, she had to do it. She was looking at the steps not to fall, and it was all going well until it wasn’t. One moment her feet were steady, and the next, when she got the umpteenth contraction, they weren’t anymore.

She felt breathless for a few seconds, and time moved in slow motion. It felt like when she was falling from a cliff like when she was escaping from the Black Sister that wanted to take her to Mortmain, a lot of years ago. She felt light without the ground safely under her feet. But she knew that the moment she would hit the floor would come, and she wouldn’t be as weightless as she thought. I will break my neck and we will die, she thought desperately, until her fall was broken by two strong arms embracing all of her body like a fortress, and she closed her eyes.

The time seemed to go back to a normal pace as she took in the smells. The body who caught her before she would irrevocably damage herself and the life she was carrying inside, smelled like London. Like fog, but also like soap and the smell of rain.

“Will…” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Tess, what’s wrong?” Will asked, his tone concerned. He stroked her hair and her back with tenderness and he noticed that they were damp. “You’re sweating…” Her head was still bent on his chest and her hands were holding the lapels of his wet jacket as if she was holding onto dear life. He was her dear life, indeed. “Tess, talk to me” he pleaded.

She looked up then, locking eyes with him. The lights were dimmer on the stairs, and she couldn’t see the blue of his eyes, but she knew it was there. Will was there. Her husband was there.

“It’s time.”

She couldn’t make out his expression at first. One moment he looked puzzled until there wasn’t any guess as to what time it was. Her water broke and it damped her bare feet and Will’s already wet boots.

“By the Angel… Bridget!” he shouted, and Tessa shook in his arms. In the meantime, he was still caressing her hair gently, to keep her tranquil. But he was shaking like a leaf as well, since he was already wet because of the rain outside and because, Tessa thought, he might be nervous. His hair stuck to his forehead in a strange way, making him seem like one of those heroes in Victorian novels. He was handsome, and wet.

She put her hands on his arm to steady herself. “You’re wet” she said, touching his arms and then his chest, his hair and then his face.

Will put a reassuring hand behind her back. “So are you” he looked at her pale feet on step and then slowly checked her out until he was back on her face. She saw something change in his features in that instant. Fear? Anxiety? Joy? She couldn’t name it, but she knew that he was invested by a different range of emotions. “Tess. My Tessa. We are about to…” he didn’t finish his thought because Tessa bend over in his arms. “Bridget! It’s an emergency. Come! Or I’ll forbid you from singing those awful songs in the kitchen!”

Tessa automatically laughed, but it was short lived, because laughing made her belly hurt. His hand instinctively went on her stomach over hers. “I swear, if she doesn’t come in a minute, I’ll really do that,” Will declared with a bit of anger tinging his voice. “Let me carry you upstairs” he added, then secured a hand behind her back and they climbed the stairs until they were back in their bedroom and he helped her sit on all of the pillows that were on the mattress. Her back wasn’t feeling much better, but at least they helped ease the pain.

“Are you okay?” he wondered, after she closed her eyes for a brief moment. He could see she was trying hard not to show she was in pain. He took her hand in his and she noticed his hands were cold, while hers where scorching hot and sweaty.

“I’m fine,” she nodded to reassure him, when another contraction came and she yelped.

“Tell me what I can do to stop the pain” Will said, and she could tell he was restless because he felt like he couldn’t do anything to help her. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he called Bridget, but he didn’t want to leave Tessa alone and go downstairs to call the cook. What if Tessa needed him and he wouldn’t be there?

You can’t do anything but wait, a voice said from behind them.

Will turned his head and sighed. It was a sigh of relief. Not that he wouldn’t know what to do if they couldn’t call anybody to help Tessa, but he would love the help, and he knew that in these occasions there was only a person he would entrust to help them.

“How did you know? Did…” he asked, but his question was cut short because Tessa had another contraction. He glanced at his wife. Her face was even paler than before, and she touched her stomach where it hurt.

Jem, Brother Zachariah, walked towards the bed before speaking again. How many minutes between a contraction and another? He inquired.

“I don’t know,” Tessa murmured, her voice weak and barely audible.

“I think the last one was less than five minutes ago” said Will, still holding his wife’s hand like a lifeline. “Is this a good or a bad thing?”

It means that she’s close. She’s into labor, which means that she’s dilated enough. Or this is how it should be.

Will frowned. “Dilated what? How can we know?”

Tess looked at her husband and laughed. It wasn’t as energetic as she’d wanted it to be, but it was a feel-good laugh. Not that Will didn’t know anything on how babies are born, but it was her who had spoken with Jem about this topic and what to expect, and he was probably just anxious to think clearly. “He just means that the baby can come out anytime now” she explained with a soft smile.

He looked perplexed. “Ah, yes. I mean, I know” he said. “Shouldn’t we check, then?”

Tessa looked at Jem in that instant, for confirmation. Yes. You could check yourself, if you’d like. He replied, then distanced himself from his friends a bit, giving them privacy.

Will left Tessa’s hand and stood up, then grabbed the hem of her nightgown and glanced at her face before doing what he had to do. “Can I?”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before” Tessa said with a playful tone and an eyebrow raised, when another contraction hit her and made her shudder.

Will panicked and did what he had to. “By the angel, I think I see the head. I mean, I see black. All black. And it usually isn’t this dark down t…” He left the sentence hanging, shaking his head as if he had said too much.

Tessa rolled her eyes, but she was amused. “Will!” She admonished him, and didn’t dare to look at Jem, who was now in the furthest angle of their bedroom. Perhaps he hadn’t heard. She hoped.

It’s the head, Brother Zachariah told them. You need to push until it’s out. Will, you need to help. Stay where you are, it will be easier to get the baby out.

Will looked at his ex parabatai with determination and nodded, then took Tessa’s hand in his. Jem had definitely heard what her husband said, but who cared now. It’s not like he didn’t know how she got pregnant.

She opened her legs more and grabbed the blanket for leverage with her free hand, while her left still gripped Will’s. She knew what she had to do; she had read it on some of the books she’d found. She needed to push until the baby was out and then it would be over. On paper it looked easy, but after the first time, she felt her whole body shook with pain. She had closed her eyes. The only things she could feel were the wet mattress under her and Will’s firm hand keeping her where she was and trying to tell her that he held her back.

“You’re doing great, Tess” he told her lovingly. “But it’s not over yet. I know it’s hard, but you have to give all your might for this to be over.”

Tessa pushed again, again, and again, until she felt something change under her stomach. She felt freer, liberated, but not completely. She looked at Will. He was still looking at her core, and he was holding something with both hands. Their eyes met, and he was content. Ecstatic. “One last push, Tessa.”

She did as she was told. The room was eerily quiet for a moment, but then a small cry erupted and filled everything, especially her heart. Their baby’s cry.

She couldn’t see well what happened in the next five minutes because she was blinded by her tears, but in the blurry moment she saw Will cut the umbilical cord and Jem checking if their baby was healthy. The child is fine, he told them. Then she saw him coming to her and checking her pulse and her face. I suggest you rest after until morning to recuperate. If you have any problems, just call me again. He then walked towards the door, ready to leave.

“Jem” Tessa called, before he was out of the door. “Thanks.”

Brother Zachariah stopped in his tracks. Anytime. Congratulations. And then he was out.

Tessa knew that he didn’t mean to sound so detached. He was a Silent Brother now, and they didn’t show any emotion, but she knew that Jem was happy for them. She knew that they could deliver the baby alone if they needed to, but still. She had appreciated that he had taken the time to come and to check everything went fine.

She looked at Will, then. The baby was lying in her husband’s arms and was still crying, but he was trying to soothe him. Will looked at Tessa and smiled one of those smiles that tell you that person is completely and utterly happy, no one could disrupt his happiness. He walked to her side of the bed and sat down on the mattress next to her.

“Here’s your mom, cariad” he cooed over him as he passed him to his wife.

“Hello, baby” Tessa said, as tears pooled in her eyes once again. Their baby was beautiful, she noticed. He had Will’s dark curls and bright golden eyes. She wondered if her father had had those eyes, but it was likely, since nor she or Will had that shade in their families.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Will said, looking at her adoringly. Tessa blushed, and grinned. The pain hadn’t subsided completely, but she felt more at ease. He stroked her cheek and her chin and covered her hand with his.

She looked down at the small bundle in her arms and then back at Will. “You can’t mean me” she teased, even if she knew he totally found her beautiful even in her disheveled state. She surely looked like Bertha Mason during one of the nights where she wanted to terrorize Jane.

Will replied with a quick kiss on her lips. She realized he wasn’t cold anymore, although his hair was still a bit wet. “I love you, Tess. You have no idea how happy I am right now.” He grinned, but his eyes were tearing up with joy, and then he was crying. “And I love you, James” he said to the baby.

Then it was Tessa’s turn to cry. “Welcome to the Shadowhunter world, James” she said.

The new parents glanced at each other as their tears mixed with their quiet laughs. They didn’t know if the baby would be a he or a she, but they were sure of one thing. That if their child would be a boy, he would be named James.

As Will and Tessa got acquainted with their first son, Brother Zachariah, Jem Carstairs, wished he could cry of joy as well. He hadn’t left the Institute yet because he was giving Bridget things Tessa may need for the newborn. Oh, it was Bridget who had called him, indeed. According to her, she decided to call him even if Tessa hadn’t told him so because she had seen something was wrong during dinner. That was the reason why he rushed there and got just in time. Luckily, Will returned before it would be time as well. He would have helped Tessa if Will hadn’t made it, but he knew Will wouldn’t forgive himself for missing his baby’s birth, so it was a blessing that he came back just in time to save his wife and actively help her deliver their son.

Jem knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, it wasn’t in his nature, but he wanted to check. He wanted to see his friends one last time before going back to the Silent City. He knew they were fine, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to see them one last time. Despite being cold and detached after he became a Silent Brother, he knew that after tonight he would feel a bit warmer on the inside, because the love Will and Tessa felt for him invigorated his spirit and gave him the strength to go on with his life. And now, he was also sure little James would give him strength, and he would look after his parents when he couldn’t secretly sneak out of the Silent City to go see them and pretend, he had an emergency.

Welcome, James Herondale.

[alexthepartyman]

Fine Line

Chapter One: I open my eyes

“He’s so gorgeous,” JJ comments.

“Thank you.”

“If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive-ow!” Spencer wails after I hit him in the knee.

“All babies are cute,” I whine from the floor. 

“Look at his little, witty, bitty nose. Oh,” Penelope gushes. “Don’t you want one of these?”

“Mm. I’ll stick to practicing,” Derek remarks, and I look up at him, holding my feet.. “Why are you down there?” 

He asks, looking at me before walking away, and the adults laugh quietly.

“Congratulations,” Elle says, approaching us.

“Thank you. She’s amazing. I’m a little terrified.”

“Well, um, we should get going. Jamie,” Haley says, nodding her head towards the elevator and putting Jack back in the stroller.

“No, no, he can stay today.” Aaron gently argues.

“Please, Haley? I have my homework all done and I have everything I need with me,” I beg.

“Okay. But if you guys are going out on a case, I want him brought back home. Dave wouldn’t be too happy if you took him.” 

“Of course. Go say hi to Jason.” I smile, using Aaron to pull myself up to my feet and walk into the bullpen.

“Grant? Where’s Uncle Jason?” I ask, stopping Spencer’s boyfriend. 

“He’s up in the conference room,” the man answers.

“Oh. I’m just gonna say hi. Aaron said I could stay today.” 

“Oh, nice. Yeah, I’ll take you to him. Come on.” He says, taking my hand and leading us up to the conference room. “Agent Gideon, you have a visitor,” Grant says, leaning in and knocking on the door.

“Hm? Oh, hello, Jamie.”

“Hi, Uncle Jason. Aaron and Haley said I could stay here today,” I repeat, giving Uncle Jason a hug. 

“That is amazing. We have a case right now, so I’m going to need you to sit quietly. Can you do that?” I nod aggressively, going to my favourite corner of the room and plomping there, I pull out one of Dad’s books to read as Derek walks into the room. “Crawford family. Murdered three days ago.”

“Saw it on the news.”

“They were found in the basement of their house.”

“Bas packed for a vacation they never took.”

“Reporter said it was a murder/suicide, father stabbed the mom, then shot himself.”

“That’s the conclusion Maryland State Police came to. The gun was found next to the father, had gunpowder residue on his right hand.”

“And now, you must have some compelling reason to think that Chris Crawford didn’t off his family?”

“Yeah. Another murdered family. The Millers, found a month ago.The mother, Reese Miller, her two children, and her new husband. Again, they were found in the basement, and like the Crawford, their suitcases were packed for a vacation.” I twist a stuffed turtle fin in between my fingers as I read about serial killers. 

“Both cases, the bodies were discovered five days after their vacations were supposed to have started.”

“Yet the coroner determined that they had been dead only twenty-four hours.”

“So, for four days, both families remained in the house.” 

“Location of the bodies, both cases, the basement. Indicates a level of organisation-

“With a quick, but disorganised application of overpowering force.”

“If these aren’t murder/suicides, someone’s doing a damn good job of making them look like it.” 

“Possibly this man, Eric Miller. Biological father of the Miller children. Arlington PD issued a BOLO for Miller after the bodies were discovered.”

“Ex-wife Reese Miller had a restraining order against him for domestic violence.”

“When she get remarried?”

“The week before they were killed.” 

“Violent husbands believe their wives and children are property. Reese Miller getting remarried possibly made him snap.” I pout at the sound of that, something just screams that it would have been too easy to pin it on him. 

“Well, the Virginia cops finally located Eric Miller last night, responding to a drunken disturbance at a motel where Miller had been hiding out. When they found him, they discovered blood on his black leather jacket...belonged to his children.”

“Was any of his DNA found at the Crawford’s?”

“No.”

“Did he know the Crawfords?”

“If he does, he’s not saying. In fact, he hasn’t said a word since his arrest.” 

“Smart move. Can’t use have your words used against you in court if you don’t give them anything,” I comment, flipping to the next page. “But the paradox is that your silence will be used to indicate guilt…”

“Uh, the Arlington PD have asked us to interview him,” JJ says, trying to bring the focus off of my weird statement.

“If anyone could apply overwhelming force, he’s your man,” Spencer comments.

“I want you to find out. Talk to him.”

“You want me to talk to him?”

“Yeah. You’ve done interviews before with other agents running point. You can go solo.” I look up from my book and squint at Spencer in confusion. 

“Morgan, the Crawford house is a fresh crime scene.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure Jamie can be out in the field?” 

“He’s not directly involved in anything. We’re just watching him.”

“No offense, but can’t someone at the office do that? We have a serial killer to catch.” 

“Once the Crawfords were brought down to the basement, they must have known their fate,” Uncle Jason says, completely ignoring Derek. I shake my idle hands, carefully walking down the staircase to the basement, I stop at the final step. “ME said they were all killed down here. Jamie, leash,” he gently chides.“Sam was found here, Emily over there...so...I’m the unsub. How did I do it?” 

“Well, I had to bring them down here, first,” Derek says. 

“How?’

“I had a gun.”

“Okay, use a gun to force them down here,.what next?”

“Stab them.”

“Who’s first?” I look around at the basement, noting the dried blood contrasting the white dryer and washing machine, the dark blood stains on the blue carpet.

“The strongest, the father. He was found right there, and then the mother. That’s her right there.”

“How are you going to keep the kids from running away?”

“Restraints. Can’t aim a gun at them and stab the mother at the same time.”

“No restraints were found on the victims.”

“I took them with me.”

“No ligature marks,” I add.

“Snooping again?” Uncle Jason asks, looking towards me. “Let’s go upstairs, see how they lived.” I help myself up with the railing and lead Uncle Jason and Derek back up the stairs to the main part of the house, the living room and dining room area. “The yard is overgrown, and like the roof, Chris Crawford’s car is in need of maintenance, and Allison Crawford’s SUV is in pristine condition.” 

“Says here that Allison drove the kids to school. If they were educated privately, maybe the car was just an attempt to show the other parents wealth.”

“Like this house,” Uncle Jason says. “Designer magazines conspicuously placed, expensive modern furniture, plasma TV. Behind the curtains, water damage. Allison spent money on the things her friends could see and neglected those they couldn’t. The Crawfords lived beyond their means.” 

“So, where’d the extra cash come from?” 

“Get Garcia to check their financial status...Emily…” he pulls a painting off of the grey fridge. “This painting is of this house. Strange that, for a child, it has no colour. Has lines, dimensions, but no colour.”

“No dog collar was found, right?”

“No,” I answer. 

“Maybe he didn’t have one?” 

“Uncle Jason...who the fuck woudl have a dog, but no collar?” I ask, not minding my mouth.

“He’d have to have one. Come here. You see that?”

“Is it one of those dog doors that only opens with the collar?” I ask from the kitchen, sitting on the floor and drumming on my thighs.

“Yeah. It only opens via a chip in the dogs collar. If anything attempted to get in without one...the alarm would have been activated.” 

“Derek! Stop trying to break out!” I yell. 

“When the cops got here, the house was locked tight and the alarm was hot.”

“So, the night the Crawfords were murdered, the only way in and out of the house was with a dog collar.”

“Gideon, whoever killed this family had to be a big guy. Chris Crawford was a black belt in judo.”

“So are you. I’ve got a gun to your back. Maybe you could take it from me, but your children are in the same room, and if you fail, they die. Does it matter how big I am now?” Uncle Jason makes his way towards the kitchen. 

“Bound or not, Allison Crawford would have put up one hell of a fight. Emily and Sam would have been sobbing.”  

“Crawford didn’t kill his family, and there’s no evidence Miller was ever in the house or even knew them.” 

“HELP ME! HELP! PLEASE! HELP ME! NO! NO! PLEASE! PLEASE, NO! GOD, NO! NO!” A dog bark emerges from the silence, I can hear it through my hands.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks. 

“Why didn’t anyone hear them scream?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I believe the unsub had control over this family. He may have separated each family member. He tells the mother, ‘if you scream, I’ll kill your children.’ He tells the children, ‘if you cry, I’ll kill Mommy.’ The suspect found a way of restraining them without leaving marks. Based on lividity...the ME estimates that the father was the last to die.”

“He witnessed the whole thing. If he did spend time with both families, he must’ve known he had the time to spend with them.” 

“Cause he knew they were going on vacation.” 

“Look at travel agents, relatives, work colleagues, contract workers, childrens’ tutors-”

“Gideon. We’ve been looking into the Crawford financials.”

“Allison Crawford spent way more money than Chris could afford. They were in major debt.”

“And Chris Crawford wrote a number of checks for a series of visits to a therapist.”

“She had two cell phone accounts. And one of them billed to a separate address in southeast Washington DC.”

“You get that?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did Derek really nearly get bit in the dick by a dog?” I ask, petting Ace’s head. 

“Language, Jamie,” Aaron warns.

“¿Derek estuvo a punto de ser mordido en la polla por un perro?” I ask again in Spanish. 

“Si. ¿Hablas?” 

“Suficiente para saber que mi abuelo siempre se queja,” I respond. 

“Why am I here?” The big man asks. 

“I think you know why,” Derek responds. 

“That’s mine.” 

“Colours indicate a self-confidence...an outgoing personality. Shows an above-average intelligence. The child that painted this was left-handed. Emily Crawford was left-handed.”

“Right...you’re not.”

“How’d you get the painting, Frank? You froget to take your medicine today, Frank? For a severe manic-depressive, that’s not good.”

“Should we get him his medication?” I ask. 

“No. He’ll be safe with us.” 

“They make me feel wrong!”

“Wrong enough to kill the Crawfords?”

“Frank.” 

“I-I did a-a bad thing.”

“What did you do?”

“I shouldn’t have gone to the house. Allison told me not to. I would never...never hurt Ally.” I place my hands up against the window, feeling nothing but sadness. “She’s the only family I got.”

“Family?”

“She’s my sister...she’s dead...she’s dead…” Frank cries. “He killed them…Chris did. I know he did it.” 

“What bad thing did you do?” 

“The rule was that I was never supposed to go to the house. That was the only rule. Allison said if Chris saw me...he would never let me see her again. He was gonna lock me up in the loony bin. He never liked me.” 

“You went...to the house.” 

“She said...she couldn’t visit me anymore. I just wanted to see her. Seeing Allison made everything better, but they cut my phone off. That day! The day I went to see them! They cut my phone off! I never would’ve gone to the house if they hadn’t cut off the phone!” I look on in despair as Derek tries to calm him. 

“There’s no way this guy could’ve gotten into the house without a key. Knowing how CHris Crawford felt about his brother-in-law, you see him having one?”

“No.” 

“Frank, you went to the house. What did you do?” 

“It was...dark...and...and cold. I went around to the side to look through the window. My breath steamed up the glass, and I wiped it clean, and...and I-I could see them, sitting down for dinner. I saw Emily and Sam, and...Sam was crying, I guess he was in trouble.”

“Did you see Allison?”

“Yes. She was saying grace over the table...and then...she looked up and saw me...and she mouthed something at me, I think it was get the hell out. So I left.”

“Did Chris see you?” 

“No. He wasn’t there, but a friend was at the head of the table.” 

“You said a friend?”

“Mm-hmm. I saw someone.”

“What did this person look like?”

“I-I didn’t see their face...but...uh...tiny. Really tiny.”

“White or black, Frank?”

“I don’t know. But…”

“What?”

“The hair. It-It...It was red.”

“White. Redheaded people are most likely white with blue or green eyes.” I offhandedly comment.

“If Frank saw them that day, it wasn’t Chris Crawford at the table.”

“Maybe it was the suspect.” 

“And she wasn’t saying, ‘go away.’ She was saying, ‘help me.”

“It was a friend…”

“Frank…”

“It wasn’t a friend at all...it was him...he’s the one who killed them...ohh!” 

“Frank…”

“I-I-I-I-”

“Frank-” 

“No! No! No! No!” Frank starts to yell out, slamming his giant fists into his forehead. 

“Frank, Frank, Frank- Frank, stop-”

“No!”

Derek starts to yell, I can’t hear the words, just shouts and screams. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Both families had a dog...and both houses had a dog door.”

“Fielding said that the person he saw was small.” 

“Yeah, well, in order to get through that door, you’d have to be five-four, tops, and real thin. Jamie’s the only one in here that could do it.” 

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” 

“Sherlock Holmes was a fictional character. Whoever did this isn’t. We can be pretty sure he’s probably found himself another family by now.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay. No, I understand. Yeah. I figured as much. Thank you.”

“He’s been looking at those pictures all morning,” Elle says. 

“Well, I sure hope he sees a connection, cause I’ve checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers, I’ve got nothing.” 

“Why target those families?” 

“Well, to know that, we have to know how.”

“Alright. We know organised killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence. High birth status. And in most cases...male. In the work place, he’s socailly confident. And with women...sexually confident. Every offense  is preplanned. Targeting the victim is almost as preasureable as the actual kill. These guys, they’re...they’re meticulous. It’s a compulsion, Everything has to have its proper place. They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move.” I watch Derek pace around the room. “Every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or a journal. Like, when the kids are coming home from school and when Daddy’ll be home.” I cringe at the sound of Derek saying ‘Daddy.’ Ugh. The internet ruined me. I should really not read fanfic anymore. “Playtime. Bath time. Bedtime. Plan the work...work the plan. This is the way he maintains control. It’s also how he personalises his target...so nothing’s left to chance, and nothing, absolutely nothing...is left out of place, ever. So he plans the work...and when he’s good anre ady, he works that plan. He takes great pride in his job. I think the workplace has to be the connection.” 

“Didn’t the Crawford finances indicate a therapist?” I ask as Jason comes back to us, holding up two paintings. 

“Both are by Emily, painted months apart. This one is full of colour and life. The one I found at Emily’s house has lines, dimensions. No colour,” he explains. “I believe Emily was coerced to paint this. It is a point of view. It is his point of view. It’s where the killer stood and just watched the family.” I hear a clang on the desk I’m at, and Aaron grabs my wrist, letting the gold ring spin for a few moments before grabbing it and putting it back on. 

“Each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the unsub’s trophy. He targets a family because he lost his own, and for a few days, he gets to play Daddy.” I cringe again at Aaron. 

“And he can do whatever he wants and nobody’s going to come looking for them because they’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“Let’s get forensics to check the inside of Chris Crawford’s clothing, the unsub might have worn his clothes, too. Whew! Complete the fantasy.” 

“Maybe you should talk to Stephen,” I murmur.”

“So why kill them?”

“The fantasy can’t last.”

“Do we know anything that actually helps us identify this bastard?”

“Wait a minute,” I say, walking over to Derek, who has the files on his desk. “Chris Crawford worked for the IRS, and Reese Miller was a secretary at the GAO.” 

“That makes them both government employees.” 

“Let’s check out Chris Crawford and Reese Miller.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He has his sfair share of problems, who doesn’t? But he didn’t fix them by killing his family,” the IRS man tells us as he leads us to Mr Crawford’s office. 

“Were you aware he was in therapy?”

“He mentioned marriage counselling.” 

“Did he say who?”

“Nope. And I didn’t ask. I don’t like to pry.”

“That’s surprising, coming from an IRS agent,” I comment. “You mind if we go through his belongings? See if he had anything that could connect him to Reese Miller?”

“You’re welcome to look through anything you like.” Jason pulls out a crayon drawing and stares at it. “A family therapist. They often use children’s paintings to assess the family unit.” He then pulls out his phone. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The receptionist just said she’s in an...Dr Howard?” I ask. 

“Oh, hello, Jamie. My, you’ve grown.” she greets me sweetly before staring coldly at Aaron, Uncle Jason, and Derek. 

“How do you know her?” Jason asks me.

“He was one of my patients a long time ago. How are you doing?”

“I told them they shouldn’t have interrupted-”

“I’m Agent Jason Gideon with Behavioural Analysis.”

“We both deal with the dysfunctional. Happily, in my line, the end results aren’t quite as unpleasant as yours.” Did she...did she really just say that? Wow. What a good therapist.

“Unless you’re the Crawford family.”

“Or the Millers. You knew them both.” 

“Yes. I knew them.”

“Ma’am. I think you should take a seat.” 

“Why?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We’re going to have to check your alibi.”

“Dig all you want. I have four teenagers. If I had anytime to myself, it wouldn’t be spent killing my clients.” 

“You worked with both families?” I ask. 

“I assessed their cases. This office deals with hundreds of families. Military, cops, lawyers, congressmen, feds. I only met the Crawfords and Reese Miller once.” 

“But you prescribed medication for them.” 

“I’m the only medical doctor here.”

“Who’d you hand the cases over to?” I ask. 

“Uh, I’ll have to check my files.” SHe gets up and heads to her file cabinet, pulling it open and surfing through.

“You don’t use a computer?”

“Not all of us have embraced the technician revolution. I keep everything filed. It makes me feel more in control. And do not read into that...the Crawfords...Karl Arnold dealt with their case.”

“What about the Millers?”

“I’d like to talk to him now.”

“You can’t. He works a four.forty, four ten hour days.. He’s off today, but he’ll be in first thing tomorrow.”

“Do you have his home address?” She grimaces and writes it down.

“I’ll get a team down to his house.”

“In the meantime, we’d like to see his office.”

We head out, her leading us down a hallway. 

“Suspect’s cell is going straight to voicemail,” Derek reports. 

“Karl is a good man.”

“That’s what they all say until you find a body in the basement,” I remark.

“It’s locked.”

“I’ll get security.”

“No time for that. I’d step out of the way,” I tell her, pushing her aside as Derek kicks the door in. 

“Someone will have to pay for that.”

“Karl Arnold will.” 

“Gideon.” We turn our attention to the colourful paintings on the walls. 

“Where is he, now?” 

“I can’t believe Karl -”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. If he’s not at home, then maybe he’s gone off to see his family.”

“He’s married?”

“With two children, Karl Jr and Sarah.”

“How long ago did the marriage collapse?” Jason asks.

“About five years ago. It wasn’t a good time for Karl. He took some time off work. He couldn’t concentrate. He started...drinking.” I hear a phone going off, and Derek steps aside to answer it. “I can’t beli- maybe you’ve got it wrong.”

“Yeah?”

“We don’t always see the dark side of people,” I advise. 

“I would’ve seen…oh my god, I feel sick.” I fetch a trash can from the corner and hold it out to her. 

“Where does Karl’s family live?”

“She took the kids and moved to Idaho.”

“They just raided Karl’s home. He’s not there.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hotch, there’s gotta be hundreds of families here.”

“Then we’ll send an agent to every last one if we have to.”

“Karl Arnold, he has a boy and a girl, just like the Millers and Crawfords.”

“Okay, uh...younger boy, older girl…” I say, helping look through hundred of Karl’s files. “On vacation right now…” 

“Target family would be the same.”

“How could I not have seen it?”

“He’s just that good at hiding it. If he wasn’t, you would have seen it, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for this,” I remark. 

“Does he have a journal?”

“He writes everything down, takes it everywhere.”

“It’s likely he also collects trophies. If they’re not in his house, they’re right here, hidden in this room. Jamie.”

“I’ll get to it...why does he have creepy dolls?” I ask, staring at dolls with weird plastic heads on the shelf. 

“What does he mean by trophies?”

“From the families he killed. If he doesn’t confess, we’ll need them as evidence,” Uncle Jason answers. 

“Here’s one. The Harrises. One oy, one girl.”

“Are they on vacation right now?” I ask. 

“Can I see it?”

“I got a few. The Boyds and the Dunkens.”

“Wait. The Dunkens. That’s not one of his cases. That’s mine. They have a baby boy and a slightly introverted eight year old named Jackie.”

“Jackie…” Jason grabs a painting. “Jackie’s work?”

“He took it from my office.” 

“Were they planning a trip?”

“To the Adirondacks.”

“Let’s go. Hotch, tear up the room.”

“Here, take this. I call you some backup.” Derek snatches the files from my hands and runs out after Uncle Jason,and I run after them.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We’ve got three adults and two children sitting at the dining room table,” one of the agent says, using a thermal camera to see inside the house. He waves, and the other agents advance towards the house. I follow after, carefully walking with a gun pointed in front of me. Don’t make me shoot this thing, don’t make me shoot this thing. 

I gulp and move the dead dog with my foot before advancing. “FBI! FBI!” We yell out, bursting in through the patio door. 

“He’s got my baby!”

“Is he alone?” I ask.

“My baby!” 

“Where’s the basement?”

“Under the stairs!” 

“Son of a bitch. Get out of here! Get them outta here!”

“I got her! You go! Get them out of here!” I yell, stepping towards the mother and the little girl, putting the gun in my waistband and pulling out my pocketknife. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s okay. I need you guys to with these people, okay?” The woman and the girl nod as I undo the leather bindings before moving on to the dad and cutting him free. “Go, go, go,” I say, putting my knife away and taking the gun back into my hands. I creep forward, gently pushing the open basement door and going down the stairs. I creep forward, seeing beams of light further in.

“Why don’t you give me the baby?” I hear Uncle Jason ask. “Karl?” Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Not the baby. Not the baby. Not the baby. The baby starts crying, and I silently gulp before stepping forward, aligning myself behind the bookcase. “Karl, I want you to look at me. I’m gonna put my gun away…” The baby keeps on crying. Come on, come on, come on, come on. “And I want you to hand me that baby.”  A few moments pass by, nothing happens except for the baby’s cries. “Hand me the baby.” I take a deep breath, taking the gun off of safety and cocking it, placing my finger on the trigger, transferring the weight into my foot so I can pivot around the corner. A loud metal clash rings out, and a few grunts. I venture forward, whipping out my flashlight and turning it on, shining it in the direction of Karl. “Jamie!” Uncle Jason hisses. 

“I can carry the baby out,” I quickly offer, putting the safety back on as I hear someone choking, I shine my flashlight to find Derek holding Karl by the neck. 

“You move, I will break your neck.” 

“Okay, okay,” Jason coos, trying to sooth the baby. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason pulls me aside as Derek escorts Karl into an interrogation room. 

“Did he say anything?” JJ asks. 

“No. Can we tie him forensically to the other crimes?” 

“Negative on foreign data. He must have washed Crawford’s clothes.” 

“Then we’ll need a confession.”

“Can you get one?” 

“Did you do what I asked?”

“Yeah.” 

“Then maybe.” Jason then walks off towards the interrogation room, and I yawn. 

“Here, Jamie. You should probably get some sleep, it’s late and you’re going back to school,” JJ says, leading me up to Aaron’s office.

“I’m not tired. JJ, I pointed a gun at someone today.” 

“You did what?”

“Can I watch the interview? I basically helped.” 

“Yes, you can, but you are going to have a talking-to. Where did you even get the gun, anyways?”

“Elle got me it for Rosh Hashahnah, uh, I didn’t tell her that we only get gifts during Hanukkah.” I explain as we walk into the room and stand by the evidence board. 

“Emily Crawford was a very talented and gifted girl,” Uncle Jason says. “Her brother, Sam, a bright, energetic child. You watched them from the yard for days, maybe even weeks. You learned everything about them, you studied their every move, and then you wrote it all down.” I look to Karl, who is scanning the board, and my eyes flicker to the bandage on Derek’s arm. 

“May I have a glass of water?” Karl asks calmly. 

“Something wrong?”

“No. I’m just thirsty.” 

“Water, please.” I nod and fetch the glass of water, quickly bringing it back without leaving earshot.

“Could you remove my shackles? I’m clearly no threat to you.” 

“They stay on.” I hand Derek the glass, and he sets it down by Karl, I return to my spot by JJ. 

“You chose families that reminded you of the one you lost. You stalked them, you bound them, you terrorised them. Then you killed them...one by one. We have your journals, Karl.”

“It’s my job…” I roll my eyes and nearly start laughing. “To write everything down, to get to know them. I can’t help them solve their problems without knowing background. And I make home visits...sometimes without their knowledge because people lie. You, of all people, should know that.” Uncle Jason holds up a couple of pictures. “Eric Miller was an awful husband and father. Allison Crawford hemmoraged money her husband didn’t have. It can strain any marriage.” Uncle Jason then holds up a framed picture.

“On the surface, this looks like any family, USA. Two parent household, two kids, a boy and a girl. If you look a little closer, you’ll see that their body language tells a different story. The woman and children are distant from the man. Their smiles are stiff. Their eyes are frightened. Every hair is in place, wearing their Sunday best, their own private hell being memorialised on film. Are you okay?”

“It isn’t right.” I watch Karl shudder. 

“What is it?”

“You’ve got the pictures mixed up! The one in the middle, that is Sam Crawford’s. It should be Ty Miller’s! You need...to swap them. You need...to make it right.” 

“This one here?” I ask, pointing to the foot. 

“What the hell have I been trying to tell you?” 

“You’re right. They’re switched. That is Sam Crawford’s foot with the Miller family. But how did you know that, Karl?” Uncle Jason asks.

[darkerdeariegold]

So, I need advice on how to play Rumple. IDK I’ve had my confidence in how I play him shaken because it feels like I need to justify WHO he is as a character right now a little too much. 

I mean, this is how I see him and if you’ve got the patience to read it, thank you. But primarily I’m looking for feedback. For people to tell me if I’ve completely misunderstood the character I’ve felt closest to since day one. Because honestly, if I don’t KNOW him, then who the fuck does, right?

He wasn’t always after power. That’s my primary thing. When you look at young Rumple all he wanted was his Papa to love him. He grew up neglected, emotionally abused and then was abandoned FOR power. For me, that was the start of a very skewed relationship with power itself, but it didn’t make it his automatic driving point. 

Growing up he was content with the small things, as we see. He was content to just be around his Dad and, when with the Spinsters, he thrived when he was getting praise for his natural spinning skills. Growing in to a man there was no indication that he wanted power; far from it, actually. He was happily married, settled in to a typically feminine job of spinner and doing all he could to provide for the woman he loved. He was just living his life like a normal man.

Then comes the battlefield and the things the seer told him. Now, people can say he was selfish in wanting to get out of battle but he was THERE. He was afraid, but he was there. He made no efforts to actually run from battle, instead accepting that he would likely die the next day, UNTIL the seer told him about him about to be a Father. Back comes rushing all of the ways he felt about his own Papa and how he was abandoned. The pain, the feelings of not being worthy. For me, injuring his leg so he survived and hobbling miles home (humiliated and called a coward) was a selfless act. He made that choice not for himself but for his son. He will have known that he would be considered a coward. Perhaps even known Milah would be angry that he’d brought that shame on them. But he was willing to shoulder that so his son wouldn’t grow up without a Father like he did. So his son would grow up knowing he was loved by the man that was meant to do anything for him. Which he quite literally did.

He even bargained away any future hope of adding to his family in order to save Bae. Was that impulsive? Yes. Was it selfish? Yes. But it came from a desperate man doing desperate things. Desperate is a theme we see running through his character right from day one. He’s desperate for love, desperate to be a Father, desperate to do right by his boy. So desperate that he constantly self sabotages himself because he doesn’t fully think through the consequences or, when he does, decides to take on the negative consequences for that one positive.

He even shouldered the pain of Milah walking out on them so his son could grow up never feeling abandoned like he had done. He was selfless time and time again. What would his son care about his humiliation at being left? He wouldn’t. So telling Bae that Milah was dead wasn’t to spare himself, it was to spare his son’s feelings.

He even took the Darkness on for his son. The very quotes state that he tells his son to imagine what he could do with that power, how he could protect him. How he could save ALL of the children. Not saying the power aspect wasn’t tempting but to pretend that his motivation wasn’t skewed more in favour of actually saving his son’s life is to not understand his character at all.

When Bae used the dagger to control him what did he do? He wiped his son’s memories of it and let his son believe he was a monster, all to save his own heart from darkness. That’s not selfish, that’s selfless. Even with the darkness he was still putting his son first.

Then comes when he fucked it up; letting go of his son’s hand in his moment of weakness. He had the taste of power then, he knew that he was a more formidable man now than he had ever been before. He could walk properly! He could provide for his son! He could have anything he wanted without the struggle. People came to HIM for deals, people knew he was capable. He’d gone from being mocked for being a coward and a cripple to being feared for his power. That’s addictive and heady for anyone to handle. What he did in letting go of Bae was his first real selfish act and it was a shitty thing to do. Something he immediately regretted but there went his impulsive nature again; acting sometimes before truly looking at the consequences.

What appears to be at least a hundred to two hundred years pass by and he dedicates himself to finding a way to find his son. He even manages to confront his own Mother during that period, showing his own fears and pains when it comes to being abandoned. Pan had done it and so had Fiona; Rumple was damaged by it and by abandoning his own son like he had done was damaged further. He sacrificed his chance at true love to find his son; he did it in a cowardly way, but that’s the root of who he is in the end. He’s vulnerable and he’s afraid, and the darkness gives him a shield from all of that.

When he did let his guard down with Cora she only broke his heart and tricked him; to him being vulnerable is a weakness, yet when it comes to love it’s one he can’t help. IE when he’s reunited with Belle he doesn’t hesitate in telling her he loves her because his initial impulsive reaction to shoo her away so he can find his son (without even contemplating that he could balance both if he just learned to trust her) was the wrong thing.

He learns from his mistakes. Maybe not immediately, and he damn sure repeats some of them but he does learn. He’s not JUST a power hungry, selfish assholes. Jesus, the man DIED to save his son and Belle. (and the rest of the townsfolk but that was just collateral).

See, I think he’s very much an introvert with extrovert qualities because of the darkness. I think the Darkness is his mask, his way of hiding those introverted qualities that make him feel insecure and less than and he uses the darkness as a way of being what he thinks is an untouchable force. But I look at him and I see those introverted qualities because I have them too. Only trusting and caring for a handful of people but boy when he does, he does with his whole heart. He has little hobbies, has an addictive personality and tends to hyper-fixate on things. 

Zelena - I fully believe she was indeed in love with him and he knew it too. He needed someone to sacrifice who they loved for his curse which is why he cast her aside. No point being the one she loves and who needs to die for the curse he needs! What he did to her was cruel, but I also fully believe that when she had him captive she abused him physically, emotionally, mentally and sexually. You see that from how he recoils from people’s touch after that, how he genuinely seems afraid when people are in his personal space. He was reduced to a shell of himself by her which is why he acted out after it, did the shitty things he did and power grabbed. Because the moment power is taken from him, he’s hurt. The moment someone sees a weakness in him, he’s hurt. So to Rumple, psychologically I think for him power isn’t just for the sake of power. Power is to keep safe. Power is to make sure nobody can hurt him. 

We do see further hints of how he’s capable of being a hero and selfless though when he is willing to fight a damned bear (Merida) to protect Belle. Armed with nothing, with his limp too, he’s willing to die to save her. Again. Don’t tell me those are the actions of a selfish man. Don’t tell me that he’s JUST a power hungry asshole because he is so much deeper than that.

When he finally (and I’m skipping through a lot of the show because shit man they kept going back and forth with him at one point which is basically a mix of bad writing and Rumple being damaged and desperate) had his chance at being a Papa again Belle decided to listen to whatever the fuck was going on with Gideon and was going to keep him from his own son. His actions with keeping her on the boat and the bracelet were not appropriate, no. They were however his way of trying to get control back. Of trying to have this second chance that he was so desperate to have. He’s a Papa, and when he’s good at it, he’s GOOD at it. That season was a clusterfuck of bad writing though because Belle was wildly ooc at times (befriending her husbands abuser?!?!).

ANYWAY. What I’m trying to essentially say is that how I play him is how I see him. He makes mistakes, he doesn’t like a lot of people and that Darkness (as we saw with Emma) is a corruption that you have to be mentally strong to overcome. He controlled it. He didn’t try to kill everyone with it like Hook did, did he? He’s not quite as weak as everyone says, nor is he as villainous as some want to just pigeonhole him to be. I play him as a man that’s capable of enormous amounts of love, is very much ‘ride or die’ and will threaten to cut you if you so much as look at the woman he loves the wrong way. He’s a dedicated if overbearing Papa. But he’s also impulsive, he also is selfish and he also feels like he needs the power of the Dark One to be safe and strong. He doesn’t seem to see his own natural strength and courage and instead relies on shows of power, schemes and plots. He can be underhanded, he can be even downright cruel to the right people. He is vengeful, he is broken and he is a goddamn hero in his own way. He is sarcastic and sharp, he is humble in some ways and absolutely egotistical in others. He is abused, he has been abandoned and he has been a lousy parent at times. 

What I want to know, please, is if people see him differently and if I need to be playing him differently? I don’t want to do an injustice to a character that means the absolute world to me. An ask, anonymous if you want, would really be appreciated. Thank you if you read my ramblings this far and thank you for any advice and tips you can send my way.

[cosmiciaria]

In defense of Dragon Age 2 (review - no spoilers - long post!)

It seems I'm only allowed to play games in disorder, because I played this one after Inquisition, and guess what I'm almost at the end of now (yes, you guessed it, Origins). But it's not a problem for me, because after I *checks notes* ejem, played, uhm, like nine playthroughs of Inquisition, cof, cof, I've learned all the tiny details and branches and possible endings of each installment. So this game's story wasn't a surprise in many aspects – although there were still things I didn't know or I didn't expect.

So DA2 is the black sheep of the family, and somehow I can see why. It differs greatly from the origin prologue you get to play in the first one, and the silent protagonist is gone, replaced by an already created and established character, Hawke. Hawke can be male or female, mage, rogue or warrior – but they are only human. We are ripped off of the option of choosing between races.

And that's not the only thing the game takes away from us – we are used to travel around Ferelden, searching for allies, to fight the Archdemon, because the End is Nigh and we Must Save the World united with friends and so on – here, it's just a city. We only get to know Kirkwall, a Free Marches city that used to be owned by the Imperium and now rejoices in its so-called freedom. Kirkwall consists in some neighborhoods and some notorious buildings, but that's it. It's just the city. And I daresay, it's another protagonist of the game.

Yes, you get to go outside a few times – you even go through the ( I don't know WHY) still mandatory Deep Roads quest and whatnot – but the main storyline will still happen inside the city walls.

And that's… not so bad. But I'll get there in a moment.

So you play as Hawke, the older sibling of the Hawke family. You're escaping from Lothering, which you may remember from Origins – yes, it's the same town you visit right after Ostagar. Lothering has been overrun by darkspawn and so you take your mother and your two younger twin siblings with you: Carver, a warrior, and Bethany, an apostate mage.

In your way to the port, you come across Aveline, a well seasoned captain, and her husband Wesley, a templar. Wesley isn't in a very good condition but you still allowed them both to join your escape.

It isn't so long before the darkspawn reach you, and you make your last stand here.

Now, in this part of the prologue, what matters the most is the class you chose for Hawke. If Hawke is a mage, Bethany, the other mage, will perish at the hands of the ogre that is leading this barricade of darkspawn. If Hawke is a warrior/rogue, it will be Carver the one who makes the ultimate sacrifice so his family would survive. As I have stated in my Inquisition review, I love mages, so of course I created a mage Hawke, and so I watched Bethany, so young and rebellious, die in front of my eyes (Wesley, Avelin's husband, dies as well but we don't care much for him sorry not sorry).

Choosing a class isn't a minor or just a gameplay thing here, because it leads to two very different stories. Carver is resentful with you, he blames you for the death of his twin, and he can't get over the idea that you (and him, as well) are being hunted by templars. He can even become a templar if you choose the required options – so ironic, you a mage and your own brother a templar! His inferiority complex makes it really hard to get on well with him. Bethany, on the other hand, seems to care more for her older sibling, and bears a great admiration for their father, who was a mage and the one who taught her everything. She's guilty over the fact her family is doing everything they can to protect her from the templars and the Circle, and her attitude towards Hawke always follow that line. Her destiny has more options than Carver, though, so it makes me think that maybe Bethany was the "canon" sibling who survived – Still, I always play as a mage so I'm used to Carver by now and it feels kind of contradictory to see Bethany alive and well.

Amidst the chaos, a dragon appears, stretching its wings – it destroys the rest of the darkspawn, and soon we see that it's not just a beast. It transfigures into a human, quite known for us DA's fans: Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, Morrigan's mother. She's saved us, but of course she wants a little favor in return, nothing too problematic. For those who are wondering "but HEY I killed Flemeth in Origins", well this encounter happens before you do that. And if you know anything about Flemeth is that she always comes back.

Finally, you reach destination, the almighty Kirkwall, with its columns that seems to go on forever into the sky. Here, you'll start over. Here, you'll pave your way to your future. And the plot begins!

The story is divided into three well marked acts: the first Act you'll be saving money to go on an expedition to the Deep Roads to gain enough coin and reclaim the Hawke estate in Kirkwall; the second Act has you going around playing the diplomatic link between the Viscount and the Qunari who have made the city their headquarters; and the third Act, well, everything blows up. Literally, I might add.

Between the prologue and Act 1, one years passes. Between Act 1 and 2, three more years go by; and finally, Act 3 happens three years later as well. The whole story takes up like 8 years or more inside the same city. This… wasn't a good decision on the developers, in my opinion, but I'll say it after I talk a little about the characters.

First we have Hawke, our Champion. Their personality varies between diplomatic – sarcastic – upfront and direct. And this time is easier to know because gone are the days with the many responses available and now we have the wheel which shows you an icon displaying the "tone" of your reply. If there's something common across all the Hawkes you can create, is that they care for their family, they want to recover what's theirs, and there's no stopping them. They are loved by those around them and seen as a leader. Loyalty is a powerful word here, which will play a big part in the final act, because only those who are truly loyal to you will remain by your side. And it's endearing, really, to see the support of those characters that accompanied you the whole game. Oh, and they have voices. I say this because in Origins we have a silent protagonist (which took me aback considering I played Inquisition and 2 prior), and they are so well portrayed it makes them more human and approachable.

Now that we are on that topic, voice acting here is just FLAWLESS. I can't get over Gideon's voice for that stupid elf damn it.

Alright so, just like in the other games, you can recruit companions. I already spoke a little about Carver and Bethany, who are playable… for a time, at least. 

This is the first time we come across Varric, our favorite storyteller. Varric isn't only just your best bud for life here, but he's also the one telling Hawke's story: he'd been abducted by Cassandra Pentaghast (yes, the one from Inquisition) who wants to interrogate him about the Champion. Varric is like your north in the game, he's always there for you, he's always supporting you, he doesn't take sides, he's funny, he's welcoming and he cares so much that I want to hug him. Goodest best friend forever.

Aside from him, you'll be crossing paths with Aveline again, now a soldier in the guard. Aveline is the correct type of person: she takes pride in her job, she wants things to get done well, following the rules. She respects honor, dignity and justice, and she doesn't approve of taking advantage of "illegal" situations and underground activities. If she's on your good side, you'll get a great supporter and a great friend, who will got your back, always.

Fenris is an elf who comes from the Tevinter Imperium – if we know anything of Tevinter apart from its blood mages, it's that they are slavers. Fenris used to be a slave who managed, somehow, to escape from his master. He bears a burning hatred towards the Vints, mages and every slaver out there. He always remarks he's a free man and he will disapprove of your support for the mages or any kind of sympathy towards slavery. So much so, that I started my relationship with him in -10 because I was a mage.

Merril is a dalish elf whom you'll be recruiting after finishing Flemeth's little favor. Merril is a blood mage, and she doesn't see the demons as enemies, but rather friends. She intends to leave her clan and go live in the city, because she's sure she can help her kin from outside instead of remaining cloistered and secluded inside. This will grant her the dislike of all her clan's members, but that doesn't stop her. She's naïve, she doesn't seem to understand most of human customs, and she's quite direct because she can't see through sarcasm or white lies. She's the purest of the team, although her abilities may tell you otherwise.

Isabela isn't new for us, if you come from Origins. Here she'll be joining us again after losing her ship. Her intentions remain a mystery most of the game, but let's just say she's quite involved with the plot of the second act. She's a forced to be reckoned with: she doesn't mess around when things need to be done and she gets them done in her own way. I'm still a bit spiteful about her because she abandoned my team after the second act, although I thought I was doing everything right!

Sebastian is only available through the Exiled Prince DLC – he's a chantry brother whose family was brutally murdered and his estate back in Starkhaven lies headless. He's conflicted about whether to remain in the chantry or go back to reclaim his land. He's righteous, he doesn't accept any rule breaking and, to be honest, he's pretty dull – specially if you're trying to romance him only because of those shiny blue eyes. The fact that he only joins you after Act 1 supports this allegation, in the way that he's not available through the first part for party banter, which always adds a lot of more depth to the characters you're playing with.

And at last… we have Anders. For those of you who played Origins' expansion, Awakening, Anders isn't a new character either. This time, though, it's not just Anders: he's possessed by a spirit of Justice, the same Justice we meet in Awakening. Anders remains in control most of the time, but when he loses it or when he enters the Fade, it's Justice the one who takes over. Anders serves as a healer in Kirkwall, helping refugees for free. He wants to move on from his past as a Grey Warden and he fights for the rights of the mages who are being hunted by the templars. Oh, man, of course I would fall for the subversive mage! Boy was I deceived… He plays a large role in the final battle, which, depending on your choices and your principles, will change your view of him forever. Let's just say that he's a pretty hated character in the franchise.

In this game you'll have choices as well, and your comments and actions will bear points of friendship or rivalry with your companions. This doesn't mean that if you get 100 rivalry points with one of them they'll abandon you, no, it doesn't work like in Origins or in Inquisition. Here you have to see the bar in both directions: the closer it is to one of the extremes, the better. The danger zone is the central one: if you have little points of friendship or of rivalry, the companion is likely to abandon you. This is what happened to me with Isabela: I had a good chunk of friendship points with her, but it seems I needed to max them out, which I didn't, and thus she flew away, goodbye. You can even romance characters with high rivalry points, and their romance plays a little different because of it. As it says, it's "rivalry" and not "deep hatred with death wishes", so maybe it spices some things up in your relationship.

Each companion will have their own questline that stretches across all three acts, and if you want to have all your team available by the end of the game, I recommend you do them. Although… well, you won't have the whole team, but I won't spoil it for you.

So I mentioned before I would talk about why the eight year story decision wasn't a good take for me after speaking a little about the characters – well, it's simple. In those three year gaps, the story acts as if nothing happens. Yes, sometimes the characters say "hey, I haven't seen you in a while" or "that thing happened three years ago" or whatever, but it doesn't work well. For instance, if you romance Fenris, you'll sleep with him in the second act, and then he goes away, seemingly not wanting to continue with the relationship. Three year pass, and then you resume your romancing with him, and he's like "yes, idk why I left that night I so regret it lol" DUDE, you're like just two meters away from Hawke's house, are you truly telling me you didn't talk to them after what happened in these three years? 

The story plays as if there are no gaps in time. In fact, if you take away Varric's narration, which states that x amount of time happens between act and act, you won't even notice it! And that's the thing: I don't know why they chose to do this. I mean, I guess I understand the point, they wanted Hawke to make their own name, to be known and loved by the citizens as years went by, they wanted them to start in rags and rise to fortune, I get it. But something similar was accomplished with the Inquisitor in the third game: time passes, I believe almost a year, and you feel the love and respect you've earned from your companions. It didn't take my Inquisitor eight years for that. It didn't even take her half a month to get Cullen in love with her ok sorry. What I mean is, the eight years thing isn't well developed, and characters act as if no such time had passed, and the story is planned as well like that. It's almost as though they wanted to stray as far as possible from Origins in terms of design and choices, which is a great idea, but some things just don't add up.

For example, in Inquistion's expansion, Trespasser, two years have passed. And here you see, you feel that your characters have been away for long. They've all been following their own paths and when they finally reunite they catch up and speak about their futures and what they want for themselves. It truly feels like two years have passed. There's a huge impasse between the ending and the expansion, which marks a milestone, and you can understand why all these characters haven't seen each other for a while. Whereas between Act 1 and 2… it's like… yeah we went to the Deep Roads and yeah… hmm… Varric really three years and you still didn't hear of your brother or… wait is this letter by Carver just sent? I mean he's been away too long now but he could always send me letters why wait three years…. and so on. It breaks the continuity. In fact, it doesn't only do that, but it also makes your characters stupid. Are you telling me Anders has been in love with me for three years and he still hadn't done anything?? What are you, fifteen?

But apart from that, I believe this game is really good. I enjoyed it from beginning to end. I enjoyed the mechanic regarding your siblings: their appearance changes depending of what preset for the face and skintone you choose for Hawke. I like the idea that only one of the twins is available throughout the game. I like that the gameplay has been improved from Origins, I love that as a mage you feel so destructive with all those spells, I love that it's fast paced and more colorful. I got also really involved with some of the companions, specially Anders, Fenris and Aveline. I love that, even though they may disagree with you on some topics, they still remain by your side if you were a good friend, because that's what friendship's about. Friendship/rivalry here feels like a human thing, something quite relatable, instead of just shoving gifts onto your companion so they'd like you better. I like that somehow all of your companions are entangled with what happens in the city, and this leads me to my final point about why DA2 is still a good game.

Kirkwall. Our vedette. Our goddess. Kirkwall is the scenario for 90% of the events of the game. We're not saving the world here. We just want the peace for the city. Who should rule? Whose forces should Hawke support? Is Hawke good enough to be Viscount? Are the templars doing a good job? Or is Knight-Captain Meredith going too far?

Political intrigue. And just one city. Not all of Ferelden. Just one bad person trying to control the strings in this small portion of land, not an army of zombies or a dragon ready to consume the world. I love that the plot is just restrained to this small thing, because it lets you go deeper into everyone's stories, and it doesn't mean that it gets less epic, on the contrary. I enjoyed the final boss here way more than I did with Corpypheus in Inquisition. Here Meredith has an actual goal and she's acting upon what she thinks it's right, and at some point and to some extent, she's right! But her methods are questionable, in the least. She's not just a bad guy for the sake of being a bad guy, like it happens with Corypheus. She's bad, but she has her reasons.

You don't get to know a lot of people, because you just know those who live in Kirkwall. The familiarity, the warmth of its streets, it's like you've been living there as well, sharing with these characters and learning about their pasts. Instead of allowing you to see a huge picture with hundreds of characters involved, you just focus on those you care about, explore them more in depth. Sometimes covering everything doesn't lead you anywhere, so it might be better with just a handful of well written plot points and characters.

I'm not saying that Origins is the worst because of this, because it seems like I'm hating on it. In fact, I can't still speak much of it because I haven't finished my route yet (although I know how it ends). I'm just saying that Origins is good, that Inquisition is good, and that DA2 is also good. It's different, but still a good game. Sometimes you're tired of playing as the chosen one hero who must save the world, and maybe saving one city is enough for your heroic career.

I loved the game. I loved that it pushed my beliefs of helping the mages to the limit, to the point of questioning myself. I loved that it played tricks on me like that with the romance option. I loved the sarcastic Hawke, such a well written script. Also, Cullen is here so of course I'd love it.

Just… don't hate it that much. And if you still haven't played it, give it a shot. You might be surprised.

[jarienn972]

Curse of Undoings - Part 9

My apologies for taking a little longer to get this next chapter completed.  Between a hectic week and a frustrating battle with myself trying to word portions of this chapter, I fell a bit behind.  This chapter picks up immediately after the cliffhanger so there's no break in the action (or the angst...)

Tagging my whump-loving pals @killian-whump @castielamigos and of course @hookaroo who had been threatening hostages along with partner in crime @cocohook38 if I didn’t get this chapter posted soon.

No major trigger warnings apply here but there is description of the fallout after the shot rang out.  Read from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net

Tumblr: Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

Everything was in chaos.

Henry couldn't think of a better word to describe the scene unfolding in the center of Storybrooke but he knew he needed to shake off the initial shock and assess the fallout from the events he'd just witnessed. Still on his hands and knees, he watched as Granny and several of her startled patrons spilled out of the diner, drawn out by the pop of a gunshot and what had looked like a flash of lightning on a clear, sunny day. A single motorist driving down Main Street at the wrong time was forced to pull to the curb as the town's deputy was suddenly airborne, flung over the roadway by some unseen force.

"What the hell just happened?" a stunned Emma demanded as she stood in the street, attention torn between the traitorous deputy she'd just somehow launched with a burst of light that flew from the palm of her hand and the wounded prisoner who'd just shoved her son to safety, willingly taking the bullet Gideon had seemingly intended for her boy. The whole scene was surreal and despite all of the gawking onlookers, Emma felt strangely alone.

Henry knew Gideon's motivation - probably better than Gideon himself did. He was still deeply brainwashed by Fiona, a pawn in the Black Fairy's scheme to take down the Savior. Emma's cursed recollection was gradually weakening her true self, rapidly amplifying the rage that she'd been directing toward her husband and son. Henry stood in the way of Emma killing her True Love, which Gideon believed to mean that Henry had to be removed from further interference. Emma's response was perfectly natural – defending her child - but her emotions were torn as the deputy she'd trusted had attempted to harm her son while the murderer she loathed had just saved Henry's life. It didn't make sense and her head ached just thinking about it. Nothing made sense and Henry hoped that this would be the crack in the phony veneer Fiona had put in place that would help his mother remember.

First though, he needed to save Killian. Henry remembered that everything had happened so fast. Killian had shouted for him to watch out and shoved him to the ground. Falling, Henry had caught a glimpse of Gideon raising his service weapon and firing. As the bullet struck Killian in the chest, he'd dropped to the sidewalk, hand clutching the wound. Emma hadn't even seen Killian get shot as she'd instinctively spun at Killian's warning to lash out at Gideon, throwing the deputy to the opposite side of the street with a burst of magic, an act that had left her dumbfounded and instantly questioning reality as she knew it.

The reality that Henry knew though was that the blasted fairy was winning because everything he'd been trying desperately to save was falling apart.

Killian had initially fallen onto his right side, rolling to his back in agony as he gasped for breath. Henry could see that he was trying futilely to hold back the flow of blood that oozed between his fingers. Had the bullet struck anything vital? "Killian! Hang on!" Henry cried as he scrambled to reach his stepfather, but before he reached Killian's side, his eyes were drawn to the puddle of glittery water and shiny flecks of plastic snow surrounding the cracked snow globe that was inching towards the open storybook. Henry crawled past the book, still displaying the illustration of the ball though the image was now entirely devoid of colo. He tried not to look at the damaged snow globe because he didn't know what the repercussions would be from breaking it. He was certain though that none of them would have a chance to survive this curse should Killian die.

Henry had to push aside any fear of retaliation from his mother as he tried to help Killian whose arm was outstretched toward the boy, motioning him away. Henry chose to ignore the gesture, taking ahold of his stepfather's blood-slickened fingers between his own, squeezing as tightly as he could. Killian's body was wrought with tremors, jaw clenching as he swallowed down gulps of precious oxygen.

"Henry…go…" Killian urged as the boy hovered above him. He didn't want or need the boy to be caught in the middle any longer.

"Go? No way. I'm not leaving you – especially not now!" Henry let go of Killian's hand which fell limply at his side, splashing into the remnants of the snow globe. Trying to get a better look at the wound, Henry rapidly unbuttoned the borrowed shirt but there was so much blood. Considering all of his prior injuries, Killian likely had little to spare. "You shouldn't have done that… You can't die, Killian…"

"'Couldn't let Gideon hurt you…" Killian replied, his voice scarcely more than a raspy whisper. His breathing was stuttered as he fought against the tempting pull of blissful nothingness.

"But you're Mom's True Love! We can't let Fiona win!"

"You were her first True Love… Had to save you…" Killian was swiftly losing his battle with consciousness, eyelids drooping heavier and heavier until they closed.

"Killian?" Henry didn't know what to do. "Please, stay with me…" He pressed both of his hands firmly over the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood, but it seemed almost in vain.

"Henry, get away from him," he heard his mother's voice order, but he refused to move. "Get over here!"

"Not until someone calls an ambulance," Henry insisted. "I'm not going to let him die!"

"What the devil is going on out here?" came the booming voice of an irritated Mr. Gold as he stepped out of his pawn shop to take in the bizarre scene. In front of his business, he spied his grandson leaning over the fallen pirate who appeared to be bleeding profusely. Sheriff Emma Swan stood in the middle of the street, confusion and a hint of fear etched into her features and his son, Gideon, was sprawled across the opposite curb, appearing to be semi-conscious but not really moving much.

"I wish I knew," Emma sighed. "Maybe someone can enlighten me?"

"Gideon tried to shoot me but Killian pushed me out of the way and got hit instead!" Henry anxiously explained, raising his head to beseech his grandfather's aid with pleading eyes. "Killian's dying… Can you do something to save him? You know what will happen if he dies…"

"I'm no doctor and remember - no magic," Rumple reminded his grandson. "Afraid we'll have to wait for Dr. Whale, but perhaps in the meantime, someone could illuminate me as to what happened to my son?"

"I don't really know," Emma stammered, her prior bravado beginning to sputter. "Gideon fired his weapon at my son and my instincts kicked in. I spun around and… and lightning bolts flew out of my fingertips! Gideon flew across the street and… I don't know… What the hell was that? What did I do?"

"It would appear that you found a flash of magic within you, Miss Swan… or is it Mrs. Jones now?" Rumple gave her a decidedly reptilian grin as he brushed past her to make his way over to his son.

"I didn't kill him, did I?" Emma wondered, mind still clouded with questions she wasn't finding answers for and wary of this power she'd wielded without knowing she possessed.

"Gideon will be fine," Rumple responded, without looking in her direction. "He's merely stunned, but you had best hope that he didn't kill the pirate. Now, you should deal with that situation and let me deal with my son."

"Jones – he saved my son's life… Why would the man who murdered my parents rescue my son? He didn't have to do it… he could have escaped…" Emma continued to vocalize her confusion as the sound of a distant siren filled her ears. Seemed that someone had been proactive enough to call for paramedics.

"Perhaps things aren't quite as they may seem," was Rumple's last cryptic statement before he crouched next to Gideon, ready to help the young deputy sit up as he gradually regained his senses.

Henry could also hear the shrill, yet still far away sound of the ambulance, fearful the medics might not reach them in time. He couldn't believe how casual Rumplestiltskin was acting. Was the Dark One really so callous that he'd allow his own mother to defeat him? Did it not matter to him that the Savior's True Love was dying and the storybook was practically a bound volume of blank pages? The curse would soon take everything and it didn't seem to matter.

Emma tucked her own weapon back into the holster at the small of her back as she fought to wrap her brain around the insanity she was witnessing. Hours ago, she'd accused her son of losing his mind and now, she was convinced she'd lost her own grasp of reality. Her trusted deputy had just tried to shoot her son and a man she despised had just shoved Henry out of harm's way and took that bullet himself. From the tears welling in Henry's eyes, it was obvious that he had genuine emotions for the unconscious man who was bleeding out on the street, a man who should be a complete stranger to the teenager.

Perhaps things aren't as they seem.

Gold's words echoed inside her head as she waged a battle with her conflicting emotions. Nothing seemed to make sense to her. Nothing seemed right to her anymore and she couldn't understand why.

And this questionable reality was about to become far more confusing.

In the midst off all of the chaos, a small but significant detail had gone unnoticed by all. Blood droplets trickling from Killian's hand were dribbling into the spilled water from the damaged snow globe, swirling with the bits of glitter and faux snowflakes as the crimson-tinted mixture flowed towards the fallen storybook. As it reached the outer binding, instead of simply dampening the cover, the book seemed to absorb the liquid, drawing the reddish water into the pages themselves. A damp blob flowed into the outline of Emma's ball gown, gradually filling in the blank void between the lines as though it were being painted by an invisible artist. The illustration began to flush with intensifying ruby red hues until the original color of the dress was fully restored.

Color began to bleed across the lines, returning the blush to Emma's illustrated facial features while the woodsy browns of Killian's coat became increasingly vivid. The book itself began to glow with a pale golden light, not too dissimilar from the color displayed in the manifestation of Emma's magic. The emanating light drew no attention, but when the book suddenly snapped itself closed, it caught Henry by surprise. He thought for a moment that perhaps a gust of wind had blown it closed, yet the tree branches around him were still. Maybe Killian had moved and bumped it, yet his stepfather's hand lay where it had landed. Had the book just slammed itself shut? Henry certainly hadn't been prepared for that, nor did he expect what happened next.

The responding ambulance was at last in view as it came speeding down Main St. with lights flashing and siren wailing when the driver was forced to screech to a halt and rapidly veer to the left to avoid striking a man who'd appeared out of nowhere - directly in the vehicle's path. The ambulance pulled to the opposite curb as the man in the black tuxedo they'd nearly struck spun around in attempt to gain his bearings. An already befuddled Emma's jaw fell agape as she recognized the face of the figure who'd materialized in the middle of the street.

"Dad?" she asked incredulously as she stared at her equally bewildered father. Mere seconds after David's appearance, Snow White suddenly appeared to David's right, still attired in the pink and black satin dress she'd been wearing at the wedding ceremony. "Mom?" Emma swore she was seeing ghosts – until those ghosts ran towards her and threw their very-real arms around her in embrace. "How are you here?" she questioned her seemingly returned-from-the-dead parents.

"I don't really know," David replied. "I remember we were all celebrating and dancing after your wedding when those dark clouds overtook us. Next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of the street and nearly get run over by an ambulance! What the hell is going on around here?"

"All these people out here…," Snow began, glancing around at the gathered crowd. "But where's everyone else?" Her eyes caught the conflicted gaze of her grandson as he looked forlornly at her. "Henry? What's wrong?"

"I think Killian just broke the Black Fairy's curse," Henry choked out in a cracking voice, nearly in tears as he realized what the price of breaking this curse may have been. "He saved me and it broke the curse… An act of True Love…"

His grandparents didn't seem to catch on to what the teenager meant. "What are you talking about, Henry?" David queried. "What happened?" David could see that there was someone laying on the sidewalk next to Henry but seeing nothing familiar to identify that person, he didn't immediately make the connection. He started to cross the street to reach the boy just as Regina and Zelena magically appeared just behind Henry. With their better vantage point, their eyes were instantly drawn down to the sight of the teenager kneeling beside the seemingly lifeless body of Killian Jones, the boy still frantically trying to keep pressure on a wound that was bleeding profusely. Without context to what had happened prior to their release from Fiona's snow globe prison, none of Henry's newly returned family could understand why Killian was wearing a blood-drenched guard's uniform or why his shoes were missing. Hell, they couldn't understand what had occurred that left Killian near death on the sidewalk and Emma not rushing to his side.

"Henry, what happened?" Regina exclaimed as she crouched beside her son. "How did Hook break Fiona's curse and why isn't Emma over here healing him?"

"It's going to be a long story, Mom, but basically there's no magic. Fiona used up all of Storybrooke's magic to cast the curse and she altered Mom's memories so she doesn't think Killian is her husband." Regina made an attempt to conjure a fireball to confirm the veracity of Henry's statement, but she was troubled by Henry's mention of altered memories.

"Don't tell me Emma shot him?" Regina quipped sarcastically, not aware that had Henry not stepped in front of Killian, Emma very likely would have shot him herself.

"No, Gideon did, but there's a lot more you don't know…" Henry began before being interrupted by David's booming voice.

"Everybody get out of the street! Let's get those paramedics over here on the double!" David barked orders as he lowered himself to his knees, pressing his index and middle fingers against the side of Killian's neck, elated when he felt a faint pulsation against his fingertips. "He's alive! He's got a pulse!" David shouted to the pair of EMTs as they prepped a gurney and gathered their necessary equipment before shoving through the parting crowd to reach their patient.

David placed a reassuring arm around his grandson's shoulders as he gently drew the boy away from his unconscious stepfather so the paramedics could take over, throwing an inquisitive glance towards Regina at the absurdity of the scene they'd just been dropped into. Regina shrugged, sensing that David wanted to ask the same questions that were nagging at her. Why was it that only Henry was attending to the wounded Killian and why was Emma so distant? If the curse was broken, Emma's memory should have returned yet she still appeared to be torn and David sensed there was something else. Regret maybe? Or perhaps guilt? They really needed to know what had occurred during the time they couldn't recall.

As the medics went to work, rapidly getting an IV started and placing a clear plastic mask over Killian's nose and mouth to get additional oxygen flowing into his compromised system, the others stood and stepped to the side. David left Henry in Regina's care as he stepped out into the street again some answers from his daughter. They needed to try to make some sense of what they were witnessing if they were going to help remedy this.

"Henry, you said that Emma didn't remember Killian was her husband," Regina pressed the teen for additional information. She didn't know what the obviously traumatized boy would divulge, but she needed to try. "Why not?"

"Fiona made her think Killian had murdered her parents years ago. There was so much hatred…" Henry replied, eyes still focused on his fallen stepfather as paramedics cut away bloody clothing to assess all of the wounds.

"But you remembered who he was?" Regina asked for clarification.

"The curse didn't affect my memories. I overheard what was happening to him and I had to help him escape from the dungeon where they were holding and torturing him."

"What dungeon?" Regina questioned, almost wanting to add what torture?

"Those prison cells under the Town Hall," Henry responded, keeping his gaze averted from his mother as he assumed she'd immediately determine how he'd accomplished the prison break.

"My keys?" Regina asked knowingly to which her son nodded his reply. "Ah… we'll discuss this more later, but for now – good for you. You did the right thing." But now she turned her attention to the only other person present who appeared to have come through this ordeal relatively unscathed – Rumplestiltskin. "Just what role did you play in this fiasco, Gold?" she demanded as she stormed across the street to confront the innocence-feigning Dark One.

"I assure you, I played no role in today's events," Rumple insisted. "This was all the Black Fairy's handiwork and I'm afraid she did quite a number on Ms. Swan's head."

"You're never not involved," David interrupted, having overheard both the question and the answer. "Seriously – What were you expecting to get out of this?"

"My mother promised that if I allowed her curse to proceed unabated, she'd restore Gideon's innocence, but that was before Henry illuminated me to her real plan. I now know that will never happen if the pirate dies. There will never be a way for his innocence to be returned if he takes a life."

"And with no magic, you can't magically heal Hook's wounds to protect your son," Regina stated.

"And so you see my quandary," Rumple said with a smirk. "As you've discovered, Storybrooke's magic has waned, although somehow Ms. Swan managed to summon enough to launch my son across Main St."

"Good for her," Regina deadpanned, certainly not a fan of Gideon's antics as the Black Fairy's sidekick. "So then, Emma – what the hell is going on with you?" Might as well try to get a response right from the source.

"I… I did this…" Emma stammered, her knees nearly buckling with the weight of the pain she'd caused. Her mother's comforting arms managed to keep her upright but Emma knew Snow could feel the tension building within her. "This is all my fault…"

"Emma, what did you do?" Snow asked innocently, although fearing the answer.

"I nearly killed him," Emma stated bluntly. "My head was so full of rage and hatred that I tortured and nearly killed my own husband… He'll never forgive me for this…"

"This was the Black Fairy's fault, not yours," Snow insisted. "You're not to blame and I'm sure Killian knows that."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what he was thinking as I beat him with a baton or stabbed him with his own hook... He won't forgive me this time," Emma sobbed, eyes downcast as she tried not to stare at her husband's limp form being lifted onto the gurney for transport to the hospital. "I may have already killed him long before Gideon fired that bullet."

"You should go with him," Snow insisted. "Be at his side when he wakes."

All Emma wanted to do was run. She didn't want to be here explaining herself to her parents. Curse or no curse, she'd committed grievous crimes against the man she loved. Why would he ever want to see her again after this? "He won't want to see me," she told her mother, unable to come to terms with the horrors she'd committed on this day as everything replayed in her mind. "I can't… I can't face him until I do something first…"

"What's that?"

Before Emma could answer, her father placed a hand upon her shoulder to make one last plea for her to accompany Killian to the hospital. "They're getting ready to take off. Killian's hanging on, but I think he needs you, Emma. Are you going to ride along?"

"No, Dad. You or Henry should go. I have to finish something…"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I've got a fairy to fricassee," Emma said firmly, using her jacket sleeve to wipe away a stray tear from her cheek.

Rumple's ears perked at Emma's mention of his mother. He strolled casually towards the Sheriff with a self-righteous grin plastered on his face. "Ms. Swan, if you are going to confront my mother, there's something you're going to need first…"

"And what's that?" Emma demanded, unsure of whether to trust the scheming little imp, especially since she was about to challenge his mother.

"Follow me," he instructed without further explanation, walking back towards his shop and pausing to see if she was following before he opened the door. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah… I'm coming," Emma replied as she turned to her anxious parents, tear tracks staining her cheeks as she struggled to pull herself together. "Take care of Killian for me, please?"

"Of course," Snow replied, giving her daughter one more reassuring hug before Emma followed Rumplestiltskin into the pawn shop. Snow White was left pondering how the Black Fairy had managed to inflict so much damage in a single day and trying not to think about what fate might hold for all of them should Killian succumb to his wounds.

[dontshootmespence]

Morality Above All

A/N: An anon request for a piece where the team is trying to save a child bride (I decided on OC rather than the request for a reader, OC felt better). This focuses more on JJ and Hotch, who have kids of their own. Also, what I reference is a true fucking story. Take that in.

Warnings: Forced marriage, rape, child pregnancy.

                                                               ------

Normally, they didn’t take these types of cases, but Andi Swann from the Domestic Trafficking Task Force begged for their help in the case of a child bride that had been married off to her rapist in Florida.

At just 10 years old, Desiree Jadin, Desi for short, had been raped by a man of the church only to have her mother tell her she was pregnant and she’d be having a baby of her own. Instead of bringing charges against the rapist, she allowed her little girl to be married off to the man that harmed her - and because of the laws on the books, it was all legal. 

“How did you come across this case then?” Hotch asked Swann. “This isn’t any  more your normal case than mine.”

Swann sat down at Hotch’s desk and rubbed her temples. Her work was rewarding, but dammit if she wasn’t exhausted. “Desiree’s aunt, her mother’s sister, Mariah Jacobson knows Agent Saywer who knows me. He told her to talk to me and I couldn’t say no. She said the moment she found out about Desiree she came to me. She wants to track her down and take her home.”

As Hotch flipped through the files, he could feel the bile coat his stomach. This was legal. Just proof that legality and morality didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand. “If we’re able to there’s no saying that we’ll be able to get the marriage overturned.” It was disgusting but true.

“Mariah told me that if we found Desi for her, she would do the rest.” Mariah and her sister, Desi’s mother, never got along and when she found out about her niece she was disgusted. “She said, and I quote ‘I will sooner sell my soul than see her with that man a day longer than she has been.’ Hotch we need to find her. Please?”

“I’ll take the files to the team. We’ll get her home Andi.”

                                                              ------

The moment Hotch had given the team the files, they’d hit the ground running. Penelope’s blood boiled as she ran to her lair to do some digging into the girl’s “husband’s” past. From the time he was a child, he’d been a troublemaker. His school had disciplined him multiple times for getting aggressive with women, but nothing had ever been done because of his own father was also a man of the church. 

“How is this legal? How?” JJ screamed. Fired up with anger, she paced the room as she read over the files again. All she could imagine were her own boys. She’d sooner die than send them off with someone that hurt them. What parent does that? She wanted to find Desiree’s mother and put a bullet in her head. “What kind of parents does this?” She couldn’t keep it in.

Hotch placed his hand on her shoulder and she flinched. “JJ, we need to keep our heads on straight.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Her voice got louder and louder as she spoke. “How am I supposed to do that when there’s a little girl pregnant with her rapist’s child and married to him by her mother?!”

With a slight shift in eye line, Hotch asked JJ to follow him to her office. “I know this is disgusting, but if we want to find her, we need to keep our heads on.”

“I know, I know,” she said, spinning around on her heels with her hands thrown up in exasperation. She brought her fingers through her hair and turned to him again. “I just...”

Hotch nodded. “It makes you question who we work for, doesn’t it? Makes you sick to your stomach as a parent?”

JJ’s eyes pierced Hotch’s as they both sat down to take a breather. They’d all been looking at files for nearly a day straight - they could take a few minutes to compose themselves. “How do we work for a government that allows this? It just makes me sick. It should be morality above all, not legality.” Bending forward, she knocked her head against the desk repeatedly. 

“It should be,” he sighed. “But morality is seen as subjective while legality is seen as objective.”

“But it’s not! Not always, anyway,” she said, realizing that she was about to send herself into a tailspin again. “There are rights, wrongs and gray areas. The laws should focus on the gray areas. Marrying a child to her rapist? How does anyone anywhere think that’s okay?”

As a former lawyer, Hotch understood the trickiness of words in regards to written law. “Sometimes it doesn’t say it outright, it’s what the laws don’t say that lawyers exploit.”

“No wonder you stopped being a lawyer,” she laughed softly. “I’m just so glad we don’t come across the cases a lot with the BAU because I don’t know if I could handle it. I think I’d lose my mind.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” Hotch assured her. “I think your maternal instinct would allow you to last longer than anyone.”

Maybe. Or she’d break the quickest because the job would wear on her more than anyone else. “We should get back to work,” she said.”

With an unceremonious nod, he stood up and opened the door for her. It was time to bring Desi home.

                                                             ------

After nearly two days of non-stop searching through files and digging through his background, the BAU found who they were looking for - in a small house outside of an even smaller town near Boulder, Colorado. Jonathan Veil, now Peter Quaker had a relative out that way that housed them for a while. 

Though presumably his family knew the truth, he told the rest of those around him that Desiree was a troubled teenage cousin that showed up at his doorstep. Of course he couldn’t send her away. Even with his strong stomach, Hotch almost threw up when he found out. 

On the flight out, the team grabbed what sleep they could. In this line of work, sleep was hard to come by and rarely restful, so they did what they could. It took them five hours to get there, but once they did, Hotch and JJ accompanied Andi Swann and her team to the house in question. 

The scumbag known as Peter Quaker opened the door, cocky as all hell that he had some backwards ass law on his side. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here for Desiree,” Swann said. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Our marriage is legal, Suit. She ain’t going anywhere.” Before he could fight her any further, she took out her gun and backed him into the house, keeping on eye on him so Hotch and JJ could find the girl. 

JJ found her upstairs. “Desiree,” she questioned softly. The young girl was small enough that despite the early stage in her pregnancy, anyone would still be able to tell. “My name is JJ. I’m from the FBI and we’re here to take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home. My mother made me come here.”

Again, a fiery hatred rolled through every fiber of JJ’s body. “Not your mother. Your Aunt Mariah. She wants you to live with her.”

“Really?” Despite all she’d been through, the light still shined in her eyes; she had hope. “You mean I don’t have to stay here with him?”

“No, sweetie. You’re going home.” She slipped her hand around the young girl’s and led her downstairs, where the man in question was in handcuffs. 

He writhed on the floor underneath Swann’s tough grip. “Don’t touch her! She’s mine!” He screamed.

JJ motioned for Desiree to remain where she stood for a moment. “She’s not yours anymore you sick son of a bitch,” she said. No one could deny they enjoyed the sound of JJ’s heel knocking into his nose.

“You broke my nose, you bitch! I’m having you charged with assault!”

Hotch sneered down at the rapist. “Why would she be charged? I didn’t see anything. You Swann?”

“No,” she laughed. “Just our unsub tripping while trying to evade capture. Must’ve tripped into the counter or something.” 

That only angered him even more, but no one seemed to care, least of all Desiree. With him in cuffs, she turned to him before leaving the house. “I hate you.”

JJ dared for any judge to look her in the eye and tell her she was wrong.

@prettyboyeffect @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8 @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @rmmalta @lukeassmanalvez @kalie-bee @veroinnumera @lookwhatyoumademequeue @cynbx @tippy06 @smolldork @marvelouslyme96 @literallyprentissstwin @adropintheocean1234567 @grace-for-sale @skrrrrrrrrrrt @mysticpansy @tenaciousarcadeexpert @jason-gideon-is-my-dad @dionnaea @jae-sch

[navpike]

What the Desert Will Let Him

There’s an itch at the back of Sam's mind, that tells him to stay in DC and he thinks maybe this has something to do with The Voice and why he was thrown ass over tea kettle back into this world when he desperately didn't want to come back.

In which Sam dies with his wing-man, but something sends him back to live out the rest of his life, because he's not done. There are people who need him, even if he doesn't know it yet.

[on ao3 (please heed the tags!!!)]   [buy me a coffee?] 

Sam watches Riley go down in a burst of flames and he barely has time to even scream his best friend’s name before there is another RPG headed for him and he’s following Riley, hurtling toward the ground so fast he can’t breathe, and the only thing he can think is at least he doesn’t have to live without his wingman.

The universe is not so kind.

Sam wakes up, and he is surrounded by light so blinding that he cannot even open his eyes, and a voice he’s certain is disembodied is speaking to him, telling him that there is someone still who will need him in this world, and so Sam cannot be done yet.

Sam begs and pleads because he is tired. He is done, he wants to be done, why can’t he be done?

The disembodied Voice tells him that he needs to stay, because he is needed. Sam cannot imagine anyone needing him so much. The Voice does not care.

He wakes up in the blazing desert heat with half a dozen fractured ribs, blood on his face, and  Riley’s body two hundred yards away, and a pair of glowing wings sprouting from his back where the Falcon Exo Suit used to be. Sam drags himself over to Riley’s body, and he cries out whatever the desert will let him, and then he sits and panics about the wings he’s grown, and he tries to will them away.

The wings do not leave him. But they do shift and twist and ache and then suddenly, they look like his Falcon wings, and when Sam moves experimentally, they move just like his Falcon wings too.

They fold away the same as well, only when these wings fold, they disappear, though Sam can still feel the uncomfortable scrape and grind of his body learning to accommodate new joints it shouldn’t have.

He carries Riley’s body to their extraction point, through the excruciating pain of broken ribs and what might be a cracked skull.

He is honorably discharged from the Air Force. He is given medals and awards and honors. He is sent home.

Riley’s body is sent home too.

Sam stands beside Riley’s husband in the receiving line at the wake, and stands beside him at the funeral, and drinks beside him after, and they go home alone.

Sam’s sister comes to him a week or maybe it’s a month later, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care. She cleans his house and makes his favorite dinner from when they were kids and tells him that their mom wants them to go up to New York City to visit her soon, because she misses her babies, and Sam makes a sound that might be agreement and also might not be and he doesn’t eat, and he screams himself awake that night, because he can’t stop dreaming about Riley’s body and the disembodied Voice that wouldn’t let him fucking die.

Two days later, his sister barges into his house again, and packs him a bag and manhandles him into her depressingly gray Prius, and Sarah Wilson is a force of nature, so Sam doesn’t argue. They drive the four and a half hours to New York through rush hour traffic with only mild complaint and road rage, and when they get to their mother’s house, their little brother comes tearing out into the driveway to greet them, waving a letter wildly in the air.

Gideon tells Sam and Sarah that he got accepted to Columbia on a near full ride, and he got into their computer science program, and Sam actually feels something other than hopelessly, helplessly empty for the first time since he lost Riley.

He forces a smile to his face and hugs Gideon, and tells him that he’s proud, because he is, the little flicker of hope that Gideon will have a better path in life than Sam or their father, is the greatest thing Sam can imagine. Gideon will go to school and he’ll actually do something with it. Maybe he’ll get out of the city, or at least to a nicer part of it, and he’ll get himself a good job and he won’t fall to guns and gangs like their father, won’t wind up mourning his best friend in the middle of the fucking desert with fucking wings clawing out of his back and just wanting everything to stop, to be over, to end, end, end, end, end--

Sarah shoves him into the house and out of his own head.

Darlene Wilson is smiling at her children when they all come crashing into her home, and she has a plate of cookies waiting for them on the kitchen counter after Sarah and Sam put their bags away in their old rooms.

She tells Gideon to get the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge, and she hugs Sarah, and she hugs Sam, and then she smacks Sam on the back of the head and berates him for waiting a month after his return to come visit his mother. Sam looks appropriately cowed and apologizes in a quiet, quiet, quiet voice, and his mother immediately forgives him.

Sam shifts the conversation to Gideon, and his college acceptance, and things become less… less, then.

Sam spends a lot of the weekend shifting the topic of conversation off of himself.

The night before they leave, Sarah takes Gideon out to get dinner, and Darlene sits Sam down, and talks. She says things that sound like they demand an answer, but she does not pause as though she’s expecting one.

She tells him that she knows what he saw must have changed him.

She tells him that she knows he must’ve done unspeakable things.

She tells him that she doesn’t care.

She tells him that no matter what he saw or what he lived or what he did, he is still her baby boy and she loves him more than he’ll ever be able to comprehend until the day he has children of his own, and that she’s upset that he took so long to come see her, but she understands and she’s so sorry that he lost Riley.

She tells him the only thing she’s really, really upset about, is that it seems like he’s lost his sense of way, and that he seems like he’s floating with no direction.

And Sam breaks, and he clings to his Mama, and he cries, and cries, and he tells her that he died and he doesn’t know why he came back and Riley didn’t, because they both died the same, but Sam didn’t stay dead, he had to come back and he has to face this world knowing that now and he hates, hates, hates it.

He tells her how he doesn’t know why he is the one who came back, when Riley was the one with the husband and the child on the way.

He tells her how he feels like he should’ve stayed dead in the desert with his wingman because Riley was the better of the two of them, and if Riley stayed dead he should have too.

He tells her how he’s not so sure he really wants to be alive anymore, when this is all he can think of.

He tells her, and she listens, and then she holds him tight while he cries until he feels wrung dry. His not-completely-healed-ribs ache and burn and he ignores every protest his body makes in favor of clutching his Mama tight because this is the only thing that feels safe.

He does not tell her about the wings.

Sarah and Gideon come back and they sit and they cry too, because Sam as good as raised them, while their Mama was working overtime to give them everything they’ve had, and seeing him so shaken breaks their hearts.

They sit there until the food gets cold, and then as Sarah’s dishing out dinner, Darlene tells Sam she’s done some research on PTSD, and seen some of the men and women who come through the hospital she works at, and she knows that it can’t be easy, but she thinks he should look for a therapist, to help him work through everything he’s feeling, and then they put on some cheesy cartoon as though they’re not all grown, and they eat dinner quietly.

When Sarah and Sam return to DC after that weekend, the very first thing he does is book an appointment with a therapist. He may not be all too invested in staying alive for himself, but he’ll be damned if he lets his Mama down.

He makes sure he eats at least one full meal a day and tries desperately to remember to eat more than just that, and he tries, tries, tries to sleep through the night.

He mostly fails. But he’s trying. He really is.

He goes reluctantly to see the therapist.

He is a disinterested man that says just the wrong combination of things that sends Sam into a spiral that has him shaking by the time he leaves the office.

He never goes back there.

But his mother asked him to, so he tries again, two weeks later.

He goes to see this woman for two months and stops abruptly, because he hates it.

He gets a recommendation from an old military buddy.

He sits down and immediately thinks that the little blond woman in a black pencil skirt and bright red top is too cheery, and the office is too stuffy, and the windows are too big and the couch is too stiff, and oh, Sam thinks.

He starts to consider that maybe the issue here isn’t really that he didn’t like the last therapist, because she’d been perfectly fine, now that he’s really thinking about it.

He thinks, maybe, he is the issue here. Maybe, just maybe, he’s looking for reasons it won’t work without the therapist having even uttered a word.

So he folds his hands in his lap and he ducks his head, and when she asks him to talk, he actually does.

He tells her what happened to Riley.

She tells him about survivors guilt.

Oh, Sam thinks.

He goes back the next week.

He tells her he can’t sleep because he keeps dreaming about it.

She tells him that trauma can do that.

This is what therapy is supposed to be like, he thinks

He’s still going there at the end of the next month.

He tells her he doesn’t want to kill himself, but he doesn’t really want to stay alive either.

She tells him that she’s glad he’s being honest with her, and that she will help him find reasons to want to live again.

He wouldn’t mind finding reasons to live, he thinks.

He’s still going there at the end of the next year.

He tells her that he feels like it’s a visible weight that he’s carrying around with him, that’ll scare off anyone good who comes near him.

She tells him that the guilt and trauma will stay with him, but it is his choice how he deals with it, whether he carries it with him in luggage dragging in the dirt behind him, or in a little purse, slung over his shoulder, hardly weighing him down, even if it’s still definitively there.

He understands, now, why his mother told him to go in the first place.

He leaves his appointment, and he smiles, and he goes on a run, and he calls his mom, and he tells her he’s figured out what he’s going to do with himself.

He goes into the bathroom, and for the very first time, he unfurls his wings and looks at them in the mirror and he doesn’t flinch away from his reflection in disgust.

Maybe this is it, maybe this is the help that The Voice meant, maybe this is what he was saved for, he thinks.

He gets his head on straight and he gets his certification and he marches himself down to the VA with his head held high, and before he knows it, he’s giving out advice to people who are where he was, two years ago. He stands in front of groups of people, a success story, a winner of the battle they are fighting and he tells them, if they are willing to try, then he is willing to help, and that together they’ll figure out how to get them all to better places in life, whatever that looks like for each of them.

He is helping people, and he knows that this is what he is meant to do. Something still feels wrong. Off, somehow. He has the distinct unshakable feeling that there is still something integral to his being missing.

He has been working at the VA for a year, and it is the day after his sister’s wedding when the news story breaks about Captain America waking up after nearly seven decades on ice, and Sam can’t help but feel a little camaraderie with this man he’s never met, with this living legend. And then he feels a little like he’s gonna be sick because he is so hungover, and his thoughts of Captain America mostly fall to the back of his mind.

Months pass and aliens invade New York City and Sam spends hours and hours and hours waiting and worrying about his mother and Gideon. Sarah comes to his house with her wife, Shea. And the three of them sit in front of the TV and watch the news coverage and Sarah and Shea pray to a god that neither of them have really believed in in years.

Sam, after too long deliberating, prays to The Voice.

Or maybe it’s not so much praying as it is screaming into the void that The Voice better not have brought him back and made him suffer so long just to tear his Mama and his baby brother away from him just when he’s starting to feel his life is back on track.

He screams and he shouts and he begs and pleads with The Voice, and The Voice does not answer him, of course, but as the dust is settling and the battle is won and New York is not in dust, even if it is in pieces, Sam gets a phone call.

It’s spotty service at best, but Sam can clearly hear Gideon’s voice over the line, and he can hear his mother in the background, and as soon as they hang up, Sam grabs Sarah and Shea and doesn’t let them go for a long, long, long time.

After the Battle of New York, Sarah and Shea move back to New York City.

Sam stays in DC.

It’s where he’s needed, and there’s an uncomfortable drag under his skin and a pinch in his wing joints whenever he thinks of moving back home.

There’s an itch at the back of his mind, that tells him to stay and he thinks maybe this has something to do with The Voice and why he was thrown ass over tea kettle back into this world when he desperately wanted to stay dead.

So he stays.

He works.

He sees vets enter and exit the program.

Sometimes they exit the program by exiting life, and Sam hates that, hates that there are people that slip through his fingers, that he can’t help, that he can’t save. On the nights after he hears about one of the vets passing, he goes to sleep and dreams of Riley and The Voice and falling, falling, falling, and he screams himself awake.

Luckily those nights are few and far between, but he still has a restless feeling in his bones the morning after that doesn’t fade until he goes to see Riley’s husband and the child Riley never got to know who is now his goddaughter. He brings her candy her dad doesn’t let her have because it has too much sugar and he takes the two of them out to lunch and they all catch up, and she gets food all over herself and everything around her and Sam ends up in the crossfire more often than not, but she’s three, he’ll allow it.

He misses being able to do impromptu lunches like this with his sister and Shea, and he’s even more sorry that he can’t do this with them now that Shea is expecting, and he’s going to be an uncle, but the drag under his skin and the little voice in his head and the bone deep feeling are all still there, so he stays in DC.

He stays.

He stays.

He stays.

Two years after the Battle of New York, it’s still there, but after a particularly memorable morning run, the little voice in the back of his head starts sounding less and less like a reverberating  nightmare, and more and more like a smug, “On your left.”

No fucking way, Sam thinks.

There is no way that the reason he came back is Captain-Fucking-America.

It turns out he is right.

Because the man that shows up at the VA is not Captain America.

The man who shows up on his doorstep with the Black Widow is not Captain America.

That man is Steve Rogers.

And Steve Rogers, it turns out, needs someone there for him, more than anyone Sam has ever met.

It also turns out Sam’s wings can stop bullets, who knew. They still look like the Falcon wings, when he’s not alone, and it still makes Sam want to cry, but he muscles through it because he has the distinct feeling that it is very important he get involved in this mess.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Steve says.

Sam just asks when they start, and it turns out the answer is immediately.

Sam leaves on go on a jaunt around the world after the Winter Soldier, cause why not, and the drag does not keep him in DC, and he knows, then, that this is why he is here.

He is here, because he is needed.

Looks like The Voice was right.

Fuck.

They travel around almost all of Europe, and a considerable amount of Asia too, before Steve listens to Sam’s pleads to take a break. They head home.

Tony almost makes a deathbot. They stop it. Sam becomes an Avenger. He moves back to New York City with Steve, and they end up sharing an apartment because the rent is too damn high. They each have floors in Avengers Tower, too, but there’s something about a small apartment that’s just theirs that feels much more comfortable for living full time.

Steve wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, one night. When Sam goes to check on him, he’s barely aware of where he is, and he grabs Sam by the neck and uses him to crack the door jamb. Sam doesn’t really appreciate that, but he doesn’t blame Steve. He can see the terror written plain as day in Steve’s eyes. It takes a while to calm him down, and when he does, he releases Sam with a painfully sad look.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Sam, I didn’t… Fuck, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps out, and Sam just holds up one hand to stop him, while he gently curls the other around his rapidly bruising neck.

He tells Steve that even though this was far from okay, he doesn’t blame him, because he’s well aware of how hard it is to live with PTSD when you don’t have any healthy coping mechanisms.

They don’t sleep the rest of the night.

Hours later, in the light of day, Steve approaches him, and scratches at the back of his neck self-consciously, and very, very, very quietly asks, “Do you think you could give me a recommendation for a therapist that specializes in vets with PTSD?”

Sam knows he was not mistaken when he decided to follow Steve Rogers to the ends of the Earth.

He finds Steve a good therapist, and tells Steve that he’s proud, and then to celebrate Steve taking this step decides on a nice lunch out, and then, just cause he can, Sam invites Sarah and Shea and Gideon out to lunch with him and Steve. They don’t know that Sam and Steve are celebrating anything, but that doesn’t matter. Sam wants to see his nephew, and he wants Steve to meet his siblings.

Gideon is crazy excited to meet the Captain America. Sarah and Shea are less impressed. Their son Jody throws up on Steve’s face, but he’s barely a year old, so no one can really blame him for that.

Sam still thinks it’s the funniest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.

Lunch goes great after that, though. Steve loves Sarah and Shea, and Gideon is delighted to answer every question Steve has about the job he’s just gotten with Google after graduating at the top of his class from Columbia.

They spend way too long in their little corner booth, Steve tucked away where he won’t be seen, because he has a noticeable face nowadays, but it’s the most genuine fun that Sam has had in a very long time. Sarah and Shea leave with a lot of pictures of Steve with Jody. Gideon leaves with a Captain America signature on his laptop, because of course Gideon had his laptop with him, the nerd.

Jody leaves knowing he’s the only baby to ever throw up on Captain America’s face.

He looks smug about it, the little punk.

Steve insists on paying for all of them, and smiles a private little smile to Sam when they thank him and they all part ways promising to do this again soon.

“I like your siblings,” Steve says, once they’ve all gone, and Sam and Steve are walking back to their apartment. “Shea said that she and Sarah want to marry me. I declined, and then they said that at the very least I should be a sperm donor the next time they have a kid. Then Gideon asked me to marry him, too. But I had to decline him as well. I think I’m a little old for all of them,” Steve jokes.

Sam sighs, and tells Steve that both of his siblings are bisexual Disasters, complete with the capital D and Steve laughs, a full body laugh that makes his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle, and he claps a hand to his own chest and grabs Sam’s shoulder with the other.

“Well, at least we know I fit in with them,” he says, and Sam almost trips over his own feet at that admission. “Huh. That feels really good to say out loud. I’ve never really… I mean it wasn’t allowed, back in my time, and since I’ve woken up, it’s never… I’m really glad I said that.”

Sam smiles broadly back at Steve, and tells him he’s happy for him, and that he knows the feeling, it was kind of freeing when he came out to his family for the first time, too. And then, just for good measure, he jokes about his siblings stealing his thunder not long after.

And then he’s mostly silent as they walk home, because he’s thinking about a couple of other confessions he might like to make to Steve.

He doesn’t say anything.

Secretary Ross tries to place restrictions and regulations on the Avengers, and Steve and Tony get into it and very nearly tear an airport apart in their dispute, but in the end, Ross’ truly evil plans are pushed into the light and the Accords are tossed out and they get Bucky back at the end of it all.

Bucky rents a little shoebox apartment across the hall from Sam and Steve, and something deep in Sam’s gut that he hadn’t even realized was agitated settles.

And, oh no, Sam thinks.

The longer this goes on, this disgustingly domestic little routine that he and Steve and Bucky have worked themselves into, the more certain Sam is that he’s in love with Steve Rogers.

It takes a long time for him to admit that to himself.

Takes him even longer to work up the courage to admit that to Steve.

But he does, because it’s eating away at him, because, he realizes, he’s really been in love with Steve since the very second Steve showed up on his doorstep, caring for his friend and ready to lay down his life to save others from HYDRA, yet again.

So he finds himself in the living room of their apartment after dinner with Bucky and Sam’s siblings, and Shea and Jody and Gideon’s new girlfriend. Sarah had called it family dinner, and Sam had been struck by how much he had really, desperately wanted that.

So here he is.

“I need to tell you something,” Sam says softly, and Steve looks up from where he’s sketching a picture of Jody for Sarah, and cocks his head to the side. That’s probably because Sam’s not wearing a shirt. Oh well. He wants Steve to be able to really see this. “Well, two somethings, actually. That kind of relate to each other, I think? But mostly they’re both just really important and I want you to know them.”

“Is everything okay, Sam?” Steve asks gently and Sam lets out a laugh that’s just this side of hysterical, and doesn’t answer Steve’s question cause he’s really honestly not sure.

“When you first came to visit me at the VA in DC, I told you I lost someone. But I didn’t tell you the whole story.” Steve just nods, puts his pencil down to focus fully on Sam. “Riley got knocked out of the sky by an RPG, and so did I. I went down seconds after him, and I was dead. Full stop, dead on the ground next to him. And something, some higher power or god or something, something sent me back, and I woke up with some broken ribs and a tiny crack in my skull and that was it.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Lots of people who have near death experiences have stories about seeing a bright light or seeing heaven or something like--”

Sam interrupts Steve, cuts him off by rolling his shoulders and unfurling his wings. They look like his Falcon wings, still, but he wills them to soften, and as he speaks, they shift and twist and fade into the glowing, ethereal wings that he’d woken up with in the desert.

“No, Steve. I was dead. I died, and woke up floating somewhere so bright I couldn’t open my eyes, and there was this disembodied voice, and The Voice told me I wasn’t done. I had more to do, because there were people who were going to need me. And I begged it to let me follow Riley, but next thing I knew, I was lying next to his body in the dust, and I had these growing out of my back. Little bit of will power makes them look like my old EXO-7 suit. When Barnes grounded me during the incident at the Triskelion? He didn’t damage a suit. He damn near tore my wing clean out of my back.”

Sam turns, and in the illumination from his wings, the scar at the base of one of his wings can be seen clear as day. He hears Steve inhale sharply.

“When I got home, at first I was lost, cause I didn’t know why I’d come back and Riley hadn’t because Riley had a husband and a little girl on the way. And I finally found people who needed me, working and the VA, and I loved it, I loved helping those people so much, but there was always this feeling that I was waiting for something else, or that I wasn’t in the right place yet, I hadn’t found the purpose The Voice meant. And then I met you. From the second these damn things sprouted from my back, the joints have itched like crazy. Like bone deep. And whenever I thought about leaving DC or changing what I was doing in a way that would really change my life, the itch just got worse. Like someone was telling me what path to follow. And then you and your stupid ��on your left’ the day we first met…. Steve, the second I heard you speak that first time, the itch went away. And it hasn’t been back since you showed up on my doorstep with Natasha.”

“You were sent back because of me?” Steve breathes, putting it together himself.

Sam nods, and purses his lips, and tries not to let his emotions overwhelm him, cause he thinks he’s probably on the verge of crying.

“At first, before I even knew that you were the reason, I hated it. I spent so long wishing I’d died with Riley, and I hated this mystery person I’d been saved for, because why were they more important than what I wanted?”

“Sam I’m--” Steve starts and Sam snaps at him, giving him a pointed look. His wings flare a little, where they’re still spread behind him.

“Shut up, I’m not finished. I don’t want no damn apology, because I’m not upset. Not anymore. Jesus, Steve, after two seconds knowing you, I agreed to follow you to the ends of the earth, not just because I’m your guardian angel or whatever. I followed you because of who you are and the way you act so selflessly, and how you trust and love so freely even when you live in a world that’d chew you up and spit you out for it. And I didn’t get it until recently, but Steve, I’m not upset, because I love you. I get why I was saved, and I wouldn’t have it any other way because you are that important. Next to my family, you are the most important person in the goddamn world to me. I couldn’t be upset anymore if I tried.”

Sam’s tearing up by the time he stops talking, and Steve’s just staring at him, a little in shock, a little in something else.

“Sam, do you really mean all of that?” Sam nods, bracing himself for disappointment. Steve stands, and Sam almost flinches, but then he says, “Stop me if you need to,” and he crosses the room to Sam in one broad stride. Before Sam can even open his mouth to question it, Steve’s got Sam’s face in his hands, and he’s kissing him like the fate of the universe rests on this moment.

Sam kisses back with just as much desperation.

There are eight years of feeling put into this one kiss, and Sam wouldn’t have it any other way.

A knock at the door startles Sam’s wings into folding away, seconds before Bucky steps into their apartment.

He eyes up Sam, and then raises an eyebrow at Steve, who flushes a little, but doesn’t look away.

“Steve invited me over to watch a movie, but I see I’m interrupting something. I better not be able to hear you two going at it. We have thin walls,” Bucky grumbles, and then he turns to go back to his apartment across the hall, but not before tacking on, “If you hurt him, Wilson, I’ll have your head,” and then he’s gone.

Sam drops his head to Steve’s chest, and Steve gently traces the pads of his fingers over the uneven planes of Sam’s back, bumpy in a way no one else’s is, because of his wing joints. Those don’t go away, even when the wings are hidden away.

Steve kisses the top of Sam’s head, and Sam can’t even bring himself to mutter even a slight complaint about Bucky’s interruption.

He spends the night in Steve’s bed, and the both of them get the best rest they’ve had in years.

Two weeks later, the morning after an intense battle with some incredibly irritating Doom Bots, a really pretty impressive picture of Sam and Steve kissing atop a pile of rubble makes the front page of every American media outlet, and a few international ones as well.

Sam posts the picture on Instagram.

The call he gets from his mother, demanding to know why this is how she finds out about her son’s boyfriend, is more terrifying than any backlash they might face from anyone for this.

And there isn’t a doubt in his mind that this is all worth it. His only regret is that Riley isn’t there at his side, but he knows that Riley would want him to be happy, and he is.

He really, really is.

art of the bathroom scene by @irronheart

[swanqueeneverafter]

57. Mother’s Little Helper, Pt.5

The Blanchard Loft. (Emma, Regina, Henry & David are gathered around the table as Emma stares at Henry’s notebook.) Emma: (Looking to Regina:) “The Final Battle?” Regina: “According to that weasel, Isaac, that's what these hieroglyphs mean.” Emma: (Turning to Henry’s storybook:) “We really are at the end of the book.” David: “We should have seen this coming.” Emma: “There's no way you could.” David: “Yes. Back in the Enchanted Forest, when Rumplestiltskin told us you were destined to be the Savior, he said you would have to fight the Final Battle. We thought that meant breaking the original curse. We never would have put you through that wardrobe if we knew it was gonna lead to this.” Emma: “And it's fine. I'm not gonna lose. Come on, kid. Let's go to the library and see if we can find something to decipher exactly what this means.” (As Emma hands Henry the notebook, her hand begins shaking again.) Henry: “It's going to be okay, Mom.” Emma: “I know.” (Emma grabs her coat and she leaves the apartment with Henry. As the door closes, Regina angrily slams the storybook shut, deeply troubled by this latest turn of events.) David: “Her story can't end like this. You two are supposed to be getting married. Her parents are stuck apart. She can't go into the Final Battle without her family.” Regina: “I agree. But unless you or Snow sleepwalk, Emma's going to have to settle for only one Charming.” David: “Unless you break the curse you put us under.” Regina: “I know, and I'm working on an antidote. This kind of magic takes time, testing, and experimenting to be sure.” David: “Testing? You have something?” Regina: “Okay, yes, I may have something, but it could be dangerous or life-threatening.” David: “Our daughter is about to face the biggest fight of her life. We'll do whatever it takes to be with her. Now, whatever you have, it'll work. (Turns to look at his sleeping wife:) It has to. I mean, it's not like it's the first curse we've ever woken up from.”

Storybrooke General Hospital. (Will sits beside the bed of a patient, looking down at his hands.) Nemo: (Croakily:) “Will Scarlett. Is it really you?” Will: (Looks up, surprised:) “Nemo. I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier, but I only just heard you were here. (Nemo winces in pain as he tries to sit up:) Your pain is my fault, friend. They told me you’ve been waiting for surgery for ages and I’m the one who gave Dr. Whale me ticket back to the Enchanted Forest.” Nemo: (Smiles:) “Don’t worry yourself, my boy. I’m on the mend now. (Watches him closely:) I see you still have that look of longing in your eyes. I had hoped, after so many years, that you had managed to take my advice. Set aside your loss and find a new life. A new family.” Will: “I did try, I have tried. But no one will replace my sister. I can’t move on knowing Alice is out there somewhere.” Nemo: (Nod:) “Well, perhaps, when I am stronger and it's time for me and the rest of my crew to set sail again on the Nautilus, you’ll consider coming with us?” Will: (Shakes his head:) “As you told me long ago, your vessel is no place to build a new life, only escape one’s past. All you do is sail and sail with no place to call home.” Nemo: (Nods in agreement:) “Maybe you’re right. The Mysterious Island was after all a mistake. All it did was prolong our pain. But, I’ve heard that this land offers people like me new opportunities for excitement and adventure?” Will: (Smirks:) “Trust me, mate. You stick around here long enough and an adventure will find you.” Regina’s Vault. (Snow White sits beside her husband who is sleeping on a cot in the vault.) Regina: “Are you sure you don't want to tell Emma what you're doing?” Snow White: “Well, we know what she would say. She wouldn't let us take the risk. I agree with David. We have to do this now. So, how does this work?” Regina: “Sorry, but this is going to hurt. (Regina looks to her sister who nods. Together, Regina and Zelena rip out Snow and David’s shared heart. Looking down at each half:) The curse's magic is split between both halves of your shared heart. It's what keeps you from being awake at the same time.” (The sisters deposit both halves of the heart into the cauldron.) Zelena: “If this potion clears up the darkness, you and Charming will be able to make us all retch with your sweet nothings in no time.” (Reaching into the cauldron, Zelena and Regina each retrieve a half. The darkness has disappeared from the heart.) Snow White: “Regina, it's working. (Nodding to each other once more, the sisters replace the heart into both of the Charmings’ chests. Snow looks around optimistically for a moment before clutching her chest:) Ohh!” Regina: “What the hell?” Snow White: “What happened?” Regina: “The Evil Queen happened. She must have baked a failsafe into her curse.” Zelena: “Our potion didn't weaken its magic. It weakened your heart.” Snow White: “What does that mean?” Regina: “It means by the end of the day, you'll both be asleep with no way of waking up.” Snow White: “So, Emma will fight the Final Battle without us.”

Mills House. (The family are gathered to view Snow’s video message to David.) Snow White: “The antidote didn't work, David. It just made things worse. So, we're going to have to figure out a way to do this thing the way we do everything: together.” Emma: “You did what?” David: (Putting his phone down:) “We're sorry, Emma. We were just trying to make things better.” Emma: “You made it a hell of a lot worse. You keep blaming yourselves. It's not your fault. There's nothing you could have changed.” David: “We know, but that doesn't mean we're gonna let you face it on your own.” Zelena: (Peering at David’s phone:) “And you won't. I think your mother just found a way to break the sleeping curse. (Picks up the phone and zooms in on the picture:) She just didn't realize it.” Regina: “Flower petals?” Zelena: “Those aren't just any petals, Regina. Those are Pixie petals.” Regina: (Realising, to David:) “Pixie Dust might just be strong enough to wake you two up.” Zelena: “Well, I know about magic, and Pixie flowers only grow for one reason; in reaction to the presence of great evil.” Emma: “So, if these flowers just started sprouting up all over Storybrooke...” Zelena: “I think the Author had the right idea skipping town. Whoever you're meant to face in this Final Battle, they're already here.” Mr. Gold’s Shop. (Mr. Gold has his back turned to the shop as the door opens and the bell rings.) Black Fairy: “Hello, Rumple. (Laughs evilly as Mr. Gold turns to face her:) I believe the greeting you're looking for is, ‘Hello, Mother.’” Mr. Gold: (Shocked:) “How did you get here?” Black Fairy: “I had a little help.” Gideon: (Walking into the shop:) “Father.” Mr. Gold: “Gideon. So, taking the Savior's power, becoming a hero, all a ruse in order to bring her here.” Gideon: “I'm sorry, Father. She's my mother. Maybe one day you'll understand.” Belle: (Entering from the back room:) “Wh-What's going on?” Black Fairy: “Belle. So lovely to make your acquaintance.” Belle: “Gideon, no matter what you have done to help her, you can always come back to us.” Black Fairy: “Oh, he's not going anywhere.” Mr. Gold: “We'll soon see about that.” (Mr. Gold reaches for something in his pocket, but the Black Fairy magically takes it from him.) Black Fairy: “Don't look so surprised. I practically invented Dark Magic. But worry not. I won't force you to do anything. When you join me, it will be because you want to.” Mr. Gold: “Is that why you're here? Because I will never join you.” Black Fairy: “Oh, when the darkness comes, you'll change your mind. And then, Rumplestiltskin, we can finally be the family we were always meant to be.” (She and Gideon disappear in a cloud of smoke.)

Storybrooke. Forest. Night. (Emma and Snow are walking through the forest in search of Pixie petals. Snow White, with her superior tracking skills, is leading the way.) Snow White: “The winds were blowing from the North. The petals had to have come from around here.” Emma: “Look down there. (Looking down the ravine, they see the forest floor covered in Pixie petals:) Wait. Zelena said these flowers only grow in the presence of evil.” Snow White: “So if there's a whole field of them...” Black Fairy: (Appearing at the bottom of the ravine:) “And here I was hoping to make an entrance.” Snow White: (Nocks an arrow and draws back her bow:) “Stay away from my daughter.” Black Fairy: “Emma, I've been waiting a very long time to meet you.” Emma: “So I guess you're the one I fight in the Final Battle.” Black Fairy: “I created the Dark Curse. You were born to break it. We've been destined to clash since the beginning of time. I never should have sent an emissary to do what only I can.” Emma: “What the hell does that mean? How did you get here? (Gideon arrives and stands beside the Black Fairy:) Right. Never mind. So, is this it?” Black Fairy: “Oh, no. You'll know when the Final Battle begins. Everyone will.” Snow White: “We won't let you hurt our daughter.” Black Fairy: “Is that so? Because it's going to be hard to stop me when both Mummy and Daddy are fast asleep. (Chuckles:) Gideon. (Gideon uses his powers to destroy all the Pixie petals:) Ah, it's better this way. No mother should have to watch their child die.” (Snow releases the arrow but Gideon and the Black Fairy have already vanished.) Blanchard Apartment. (Regina watches on helplessly as Emma and Snow White share their last words for the foreseeable future.) Snow White: (Hugging her daughter:) "Eventually you'll find a way to wake us. (Looking to Regina:) The magic you two share can break any curse." (Snow lays back on the bed, rolls onto her side and falls asleep beside her husband.)

(As Emma turns to Regina, there is a knock on the apartment door. Wiping her eyes, Emma gets up to answer it while Regina stands beside Henry.) Dr. Facilier: (As Emma opens the door:) "Ah, good evening, my name is Dr. Facilier, and I believe I can help you." Regina: (Stepping forward:) "I know you. (There is a long, tense moment as Regina considers the man:) You're Dr. Whale's replacement?" Dr. Facilier: (Smiles, relieved she doesn't remember him:) "That's correct, and you must be Mayor Mills." Emma: "Er... Doc, I'd invite you in but, as you can see-" Dr. Facilier: "Actually, your parents are exactly why I'm here. Please? (Emma nods and steps aside to allow him entry:) You see, I was brought over from the Land of Untold Stories. I've been keeping out of sight since that time, attempting to stay clear of the Evil Queen. No offense." Regina: "None taken." Dr. Facilier: "And once I heard that the queen was no longer among us, I felt free to offer my services at the hospital." Regina: "You saved that sea captain's life today." Emma: "You're a surgeon?" Dr. Facilier: "Alas, no. But I do have healing hands." Henry: "You used magic to heal?" Emma: (Cautiously:) "What kind of magic?" Dr. Facilier: "I'm afraid that would be dark magic. But before you rush to judgement, please know that the reason I was in the Land of Untold Stories was to atone for my past sins. I now wish to use these hands to heal, rather than harm." Regina: (Looking to Emma, then Henry before deciding:) "Well, this town is certainly all about second chances, and saving the captain's life was definitely a fine start." Emma: "Agreed. But the last thing my parents need is more dark magic used on them." Dr. Facilier: (Smiles comfortingly:) "No, I can see that." Regina: "Then what do you suggest, doctor? We're currently out of ideas." Dr Facilier: (Takes a deep breath:) "As a former purveyor of the dark arts, I'm very familiar with this type of curse. But, like any good doctor should, I also know my fair share of cures. There might be another way to break it, but it's risky.”

Mayor’s Office. (The people of the town have gathered around the Mayor’s office as Snow and David lay sleeping before them.) Regina: “Thank you for coming. I know living in Storybrooke isn't easy. I certainly didn't always make it that way. But through everything, Snow and Charming have been there for you all. To lead, to comfort, to share the good times and commiserate the bad. They have always put the lives of their people before themselves, even at the expense of their own happiness. Now I'm going to ask you to do something for them. (Picks up a goblet from her desk:) This is the sleeping curse the Evil Queen placed on their shared heart. It was meant for one heart. But if we share the curse, we might dilute its power.” Leroy: “Might?” Henry: (Steps forward:) “It’s time Grandma and Grandpa were reunited.” (Henry takes the goblet and drinks. Henry hands it back to Regina who salutes the Charmings before drinking.) Emma: (Exhales heavily:) “Here goes.” (She drinks.) Leroy: “What the hell? I could use a nap.” (He drinks from the goblet.) Archie: (Walks forward:) “I'm in.” (He drinks.) Marco: (Taking the goblet:) “Yes. Cent'anni.” (He drinks.) (Granny follows, then Sneezy, then Doc, until the whole group have drunk from the goblet. As the last person drinks, Dr. Facilier takes the goblet and smiles as everyone falls under the sleeping curse. Moving quickly, Facilier reaches into his pocket and pulls out two jewels. Waving his hand first over Regina and then quickly moving over to an unconscious Emma. His deed complete, Dr. Facilier pockets the jewels before straightening up. With one last malevolent smile, he snaps his fingers and disappears.)

(A flash of green light fills the room and Snow’s eyes open. Turning, she sees her husband staring back at her.) Snow White: “David.” David: “Snow. (Sitting up, they kiss:) You did it.” Snow White: “I didn't do anything. (Finally, they look around and notice their friends and family lying unconscious on the floor:) No. (As she sees each person on the ground:) No. No!” David: (Kneeling beside his daughter:) “Emma. (Stroking her hair, Emma awakes:) Emma.” Emma: “Dad.” David: “You woke us up. (Helping Emma to her feet:) How?” Emma: (As Snow pulls her in for a hug:) “It was easy. We just all shared a tiny bit of your curse.” David: (Walks over to Regina:) “Thank you.” (Regina nods and takes David’s proffered hand.) Snow White: (As Regina approaches:) “You did it.” Regina: “Well, it wouldn't have worked if you hadn't inspired all these people. (Looks around the room to see everyone else come back to themselves:) You gave up your family for them.” Snow White: “And got a bigger one in return. That's how I know that we'll defeat the Black Fairy, Emma. No matter what she does, you will not face her alone.” Mayor’s Office. Exterior. (Watching from outside, Dr. Facilier looks down at the jewels in his hand before turning and walking away.) Main Street. (The Black Fairy stands on the corner of main street as Mr. Gold approaches.) Black Fairy: “There's never enough time, is there? Whether it's fast or slow or even if it doesn't move at all, but especially when the end is near.” Mr. Gold: “Why are you here, Mother?” Black Fairy: “As I told you, we’re going to be a family.” Mr. Gold: “Does it have to do with the fact that Gideon didn't choose you? You think I don't know? You have his heart.” Black Fairy: (Chuckles:) “You were always such a clever boy. How did you figure it out?” Mr. Gold: “Gothel sent the spider, not Gideon. If Gideon were a true believer, you wouldn't need other allies, now, would you? Gideon resists your commands because he has his mother in him, the one who truly loves him. But he won't have to resist anymore. I will get his heart back.” Black Fairy: “Hmm. If you come at me, there may be nothing left of this town when we finish.” Mr. Gold: “Well, I suppose that's a price I'm willing to pay.”

The End.

[everything-person]

Taken

Hi so for whoever might still want this here the next chapter. I don’t really have a reason for why I haven't posted but I am sorry I haven't been. I want to give a huge shout out and thank you to my beta @mendokayalways. This chapter was seriously rough but she worked some magic and made it amazing. Hope anyone who reads enjoys.

Masterlist 

Chapter 6

“Alright, all the heroes are gone. You can come out now.”

A person stepped into the room from the shadows, stalking towards the cell. “Is it irony that the Dark One was hiding in the shadows?”

The man in question was now standing directly in front of the bars separating them.

“Oh, how rude of me. I should stand,” she said, pushing off of her bunk, “After all you did come to visit me.”

The man glared at her while she wore an irritating smile.

“Your first mistake was taking my son,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Did I do that?” the girl asked, cocking her head to the side in an innocent manner.

“I am only going to ask once. Where is Gideon?”

“Gideon. Gideon? Gideon?” she muttered with a perplexed look on her face. Her eyes darted across the room as if she could find him in the air. “Nope. Not ringing any bells. Get it? Belle and bells?” she chuckled and whispered to herself, “I crack myself up.”

Looking back at Rumplestiltskin, she asked, “What was my second mistake?”

“Standing to greet your visitor.”

He reached between the bars to plunge his hand into the girl’s chest. As soon as he made contact, a force blew him back and threw him into the desk behind him.

“Silly Dark One. You really don't pay attention, do you?”

“How did you...?” he breathed as he picked himself up.

“I didn't. I’m impervious to magic, dark or otherwise. No magic of any kind has any affect on me,” she stated, sounding rather bored. “You'd have better luck using that knife that you’re so fond of.”

“I don't need magic to get what I want out of you.”

“I don't know,” she mocked as she pressed herself up against the bars, “ You seem a little out of practice. You sure you don't want any tips on torture, suggestions on stabbing, quotes on killing?”

The darkness built up inside the man with each word she spoke. His dagger appeared in his hand.

“What was it you just said? That I would have more luck with my dagger? Well dearie, I think your luck just ran out.”

With a wave of his hand, he opened the cell. Holding up his dagger he pushed the girl up against the bars separating the cells holding the dagger to her throat. “I will ask you this once again. Where is my son?”

The girl was silent. Rumple looked into the girl’s eyes. Before he could react, a loud “Rumple don't!” echoed through the small space. Belle hurried towards her husband. The girl rolled her eyes despite the imminent danger she was facing, “Ah, Beauty has come to save her Beast yet again. How adorable.”

“Belle go home.”

“Not unless you come with me.”

“I will meet you there once I find Gideon.”

Belle placed a hand on her Rumple’s shoulder, making him look at her. “When will you understand that this is not the way? Darkness is not the answer. If you do this, you will lose your son again.”

Rumple was silent for a moment. Just looking at his wife before he dropped his hand, the dagger disappearing from it. Then he felt something, he felt magic. There was a lot of it around him and it was in the cell.

“Hate to agree with the little librarian but you won't find your son like this. I'm sure one little act of darkness wouldn't hurt though.”

Rumple turned back to the girl, “What are you hiding?”

The girls eyes shifted, her body grew tense, and there was the slightest twitch of the corner of her mouth. Before she could deny anything Rumple located the source of magic. A strong cloaking spell on her pocket. A wave of his hand and he held what she was concealing. A cell phone and a folded piece of paper. A look of sheer panic passed over the girls face before it was replaced by fury. Before she could think to act Rumple had him and his wife out of the cell, making the girl its prisoner again. The girl threw herself towards the couple, reaching out for her belongings. The Dark One toyed with her holding them just out of reach.

“Well what do we have here?”

“That's my personal property. Give it back or so help me Dark One, you will never see your son again,” she threatened.

Rumple ignored her and turned the phone on. “Well I think the Sheriff will find these very helpful.”

With that he grabbed his wife hand and turned to walk out of the sheriff station, leaving the girl in her cell screaming after them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Swan-Jones house

“Now we have one kidnapper but still no kids,” said Emma, frustratedly.

“She said she wasn't a villain. Maybe we have the wrong person?” suggested Snow.

“She knows where the kids are and she won't tell us; we definitely have the right person. What’s bothering me is that she keeps talking about a truth and a lesson.”

“No one can learn the lesson until we all accept the truth,” muttered David.

“And what exactly is this truth that everyone but me gets?”

“The truth of who she is. I mean, don’t you see it Emma?”

“See what? Who the hell is she?”

“Our daughter. She’s our daughter,” said Killian, heavily.

“What?” Emma gaped at him.

“Emma...” interjected Snow, trying to calm the mounting tension.

“Wait. So, all of you are in silent agreement that this teenage girl is my daughter?”

No one said anything. Emma gasped and shook her head at the ridiculous notion, “If she were my kid, which she is not, then why didn't she come to us for help? Why did she take her uncle? Why is she referring to us as sheriff, princess, shepherd--?”

“Because she's rejecting her family,” Rumple interrupted her.

Everyone turned to see Rumple and Belle enter.

“You aren't welcome in this house crocodile.”

“Please hear what Rumple has to say,” pleaded Belle. “We just came from the sheriff's station and--”

“What?” Killian growled. David put a hand on his shoulder holding him in his place.

“Don't worry. Your feisty daughter is still safe in her cage. I just came to hand over some evidence,” Rumple said, holding up a folded piece of paper and a phone.

“Evidence for what? That this girl is my daughter? How could she--? Why would she--? This isn’t making any sense,” Emma pressed her forehead into her palms.

“Same reasons that Zelena wanted to go back,” Rumple spat. “You apparently have done something to piss her off and she came back in time to punish all of us. Oh, and she doesn't plan on going back.”

“What?”

“She was trying to get Rumple to kill her,” Belle admitted, sadly.

“Seeing as this is the only way to get my son back I suggest you take my evidence and deal with your daughter. Before your family destroys mine,” Rumple spat viciously before poofing himself and Belle away.

Emma looked down at the phone and the paper that Rumple had left and then wordlessly turned to go upstairs.

“She just needs some time,” Snow sighed.

“We don't know if we have time,” Regina countered.

While the others talked, Killian opened the paper note. He stared at it for a moment then folded it back up and picked up the phone. He took the items upstairs to his wife. He found her in their room sitting on the edge of their bed.

“Tell me you don't really believe this?” Emma said, softly.

Killian didn't answer her. Instead he placed the items on the bed next to her, went to the closet, and pulled out a chest. He found what he was looking for and showed it to Emma. In his hands was a familiar cloak.

Emma’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Killian, why do you have her cape?”

He knelt in front of her and held up the fabric.

“This is the cloak I gained while being a Dark One. The exact cloak that she was wearing is at the station.”

“Okay, that’s just a coincidence. A crazy coincidence.”

“The song she was singing was the one my mother sang to Liam and me as children.”

Before Emma could say anything else, Killian unfolded the piece of paper and handed it to her.

“The paper that the crocodile found is a childish drawing of a family. A father with a hook for a hand, a mother with blonde hair and wearing a red jacket, standing with their daughter holding her little brothers hand in front of a ship that resembles the Jolly Roger.”

Emma shut her eyes and shook her head. “She has my eyes,” he continued, almost breathlessly, “and your blonde hair. She has your mother’s chin. You have seen and done impossible things love, why is this so hard for you to believe?” He pointed towards the crude drawing of their future, “Is this not what you want?”

“No,” Emma opened her eyes. “That’s not it, Killian. Having a family with you is everything I could possibly want.”

“Then what is it love? Why is it so hard for you to believe she is our daughter?”

“Because!” shouted Emma. “Because if she is our daughter then this means I failed her. And if this picture is supposed to be of us and our kids then I didn't just fail her, I failed her little brother too. Think about it. We did something so wrong that not only is she rejecting her entire family but she came back in time steal all the children in Storybrooke to teach us a lesson. All of this means that the future we made for her is so fucked up she’d rather die than go back.”

Killian’s heart twisted into knots at Emma’s outburst, “I know Emma. This is upsetting me too. Maybe we made mistakes in her future but we can at least help her now. Give her her best chance now.”

Emma’s tearful eyes stared at him for a long time before she finally nodded.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

chapter 7

[singledarkshade]

Mistaken Identity

Part Five

Rip woke slowly, aware that he had a headache and no idea where he was. He felt his arm was attached to something and began to panic slightly that he’d been caught.

“It’s okay,” a voice soothed as a hand was pressed to his forehead, “Rip, you’re on the TARDIS. You’re safe. I promise.”

Forcing his eyes open Rip saw his own, albeit clean shaven, face looking back at him, “Rory?”

“Yeah.”

Rip tried to sit up but Rory’s hand touched his shoulder pushing him back onto the pillows, “Stay still until the IV bag is finished. It should help rebalance your system then you’re going to eat what I give you.”

“Rory...”

“You’re on the cusp of being malnourished. While you’re here you will eat and drink whatever I put in front of you,” Rory told him, “With no arguments.”

Rip frowned, “I know Gideon worries about me but I’m fine.”

“I’m assuming with reason,” Rory retorted stopping him from replying, “But this is my medical opinion not hers. I’m a nurse, Rip and you’re currently my patient.”

“Rory...”

“Rip,” Rory said softly, “I know you’ve been alone for a long time but I’m your brother and I won’t let you continue doing what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

“People get hurt around me,” Rip sighed, trying to get his new found brother to understand, “I’m poison, Rory. The people I love die.”

Rory squeezed his shoulder, “Then it’s a good thing I’ve died several times already.”

Rip stared at him confused.

“What do you remember before you woke up here?” Rory changed the subject, pulling a chair over to sit beside his brother.

“I was talking to Gideon,” Rip shrugged before grimacing, “She’s probably really worried I passed out.”

Rory shook his head, “You didn’t pass out. Gideon was trying to get you to stay with her.” “I don’t...”

“Don’t think about it,” Rory said sharply, “It seems that whenever you think about returning to the Waverider permanently you end up in pain. The Doctor put you to sleep so we brought you here to recover.”

Rip frowned, “That means...”

“It means someone’s been playing with you,” Rory said, checking the IV had finished removing it from Rip’s arm and allowing him to sit up properly, “You’ve been programmed so you won’t return to the Waverider and take it back. Anytime you even think about it, from the information we currently have, you get a debilitating headache.”

Anger filled Rip, “Someone is keeping me away from Gideon?”

“From what Gideon told me about what happened,” Rory continued, “I don’t think you’re the only one affected.”

Before they could discuss anything else, there was a crash and they were thrown to one side.

“What is he doing?” Rory demanded to the air, he moved to the cabinet and pulled out a plate with a sandwich on it along with a bottle of orange liquid. Placing it on the table beside the bed he folded his arms fixing Rip with a stern look, “You will eat and drink everything I put in front of you from now on until I deem you healthy. The TARDIS will also not let you find any other room until you have finished this.”

“What?”

Rory gave him a slightly beatific smile, “Once you’re finished we’ll be in the control room.”

Rip watched his brother walk out leaving him alone. With a slight grimace he pulled himself off the bed and started after Rory, frowning in annoyance when he re-entered the room he’d just left.

He tried three more times before giving up and, sitting on the bed, he began to eat.

                                  *********************************************

  Amy sat in the chair in the control room watching the new version of her friend as he wandered around the console. She’d known for a long time that the Doctor could change his face, his entire body. They’d watched Mels change into River and her mind kept going over and over why that had happened.

“Doctor,” she said softly, “Were you hurt?”

“What?” the Doctor looked up from his tinkering.

Amy stood and moved to him, “When you changed. Was it because you were hurt?”

“Oh, my dear Amelia,” the Doctor said, taking her face in his hands, “That body was old. It was time for me to change. It wasn’t a bad thing, I promise.”

She nodded and the Doctor wrapped her in his arms, hugging her tightly while she clung to him.

“Do I have to get my sword?” Rory’s voice interrupted them.

The Doctor let her go and turned to him, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr Pond.”

Amy chuckled to herself at the way Rory rolled his eyes at the moniker. She knew he loved it because it meant he was always included especially considering how insecure he had once been where her relationship with the Doctor had been concerned.

“How’s the patient?” Amy asked.

Rory grimaced, “I left him eating some lunch. He’ll be allowed out once he’s finished.”

Amy shook her head with slight annoyed sigh, “How do you do that? How do you get the TARDIS to do what you want?”

“She’s helping me care for my patient,” Rory replied with a shrug.

Wrapping her arms around Rory’s waist she tugged him to her, “As long as she remembers you’re mine.”

Rory kissed his wife with a smile, “Trust me, she knows.”

  The Doctor watched his young friends with a smile; he’d forgotten how good having the two of them around made him feel. Amelia Pond had deeply ensconced her way into his hearts and had brought with her a quiet patient devoted fiancé, the two of them becoming the family he’d been missing for such a long time.

Turning back to the TARDIS controls to give them some privacy he checked on their next destination. It was the best idea he had at the moment, the only place he could think of to start working out what had happened to Rip and the Time Bureau.

Hearing footsteps he turned to find the final occupant of the TARDIS appear looking nervous, unsure of how he would be received.

“I take it you finished your lunch,” the Doctor noted amused when Rip reached him while the Ponds were busy with one another.

Rip nodded, “I wasn’t allowed out the room until I had. I tried several times and always ended up back where I started.”

“Yes, the TARDIS is very fond of Rory,” the Doctor shrugged, “And she always follows his instructions when he’s taking care of one of us. It can be extremely annoying,” patting the man’s shoulder he turned back to the couple, “Okay you two. We have things to do.”

Amy deliberately pulled Rory into another quick kiss leaving him with a dazed smile. She turned and grinned at the Doctor cheekily before walking over and offering her hand to her husband’s double, “Hi, Rip. I’m Amy.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rip took her hand, surprise covering his face when Amy hugged him.

The Doctor forced a smile down when Amy released the other man and returned to her husband’s side.

“Well then, Ponds,” the Doctor told them, “First thing first, we need to do something about what’s happening to Rip, then we need to work out who not only managed to do that but has subverted the Time Bureau and Legends.”

“And we have a plan for this?” Rory asked.

The Doctor nodded, “We’re going to visit some old friends.”

                                  *********************************************

  Rory watched the Doctor take the lead once the TARDIS had landed, falling in behind him with Amy and Rip bringing up the rear. When the doors opened, Rory smiled at the familiar voice scolding the Doctor for landing the TARDIS in her parlour.

“I brought some surprises if that will gain me some forgiveness,” the Doctor replied with full charm before stepping out of the TARDIS allowing them to be seen.

“Centurion?”

“It’s good to see you again, Vastra,” Rory greeted the shocked lizard female before him.

“Amy?” Jenny’s voice came from the doorway.

Both women stalled when Rip slowly exited the TARDIS, his eyes focussed intently on Vastra in amazement.

“Ladies,” the Doctor grinned, “Allow me to introduce Rip Hunter, once Michael Williams Rory’s twin brother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jenny spoke up while Vastra returned his stare challengingly.

Rip shook himself, “My apologies for being so rude but you’re Silurian. I never thought I would meet a member of your species living at the same time as humans.”

“You’ve met others of my kind?” Vastra asked confused.

The Doctor clapped Rip’s shoulder, who flinched slightly, “Another time traveller.”

“Doctor,” Rory said seeing how uncomfortable his brother was with the attention, “Can we get to why we’re here?”

“Oh, of course,” the Doctor replied, “I need Strax’s help.”

  “I didn’t know humans had clones,” the Sontaran butler noted as he looked at Rip and Rory.

“We’re not clones,” Rory stated, “We’re twins.”

Strax frowned as he set out his equipment, “But there are two of you and you are identical. Therefore you are clones.”

Rory dropped his face into his hand frustrated, “Strax, can you just do the checks?”

Strax frowned again before looking at Rory, “And you’re sure...”

“Oh give me that,” the Doctor snapped snatching the equipment off the diminutive alien shooing him out of the way, “Alright, Rip I need you to just look directly at the wall behind me.”

Rip looked a little concerned but did as ordered and found a spot on the wall to stare at while the Doctor used what looked like a small torch to stare into Rip’s eyes. Rory folded his arms across his chest glancing to the other side of the room where Amy was catching up with Jenny.

  After Demon’s Run, River had brought them all back here to allow Amy some time to recuperate before they returned home. Jenny had shown them to a bedroom where Amy had simply climbed onto the bed and curled into a ball hugging the pillow. Anytime Rory tried to comfort her she curled further away from him so finally he stopped trying.

Jenny appeared with some tea and she offered to sit with Amy for a while so he could get changed making him realise he was still wearing the uniform the Doctor insisted he wore. He stood in the doorway watching Jenny coax Amy to drink the tea, annoyed when Amy responded to the other woman. He remembered wandering around the house not sure what to do finally finding a room in the basement with the era’s version of workout equipment. His anger took over Rory suddenly, something that happened rarely to him, and grabbing his sword he began to hack at something he couldn’t name but was made of wood with some pads. Finally exhausted he dropped to his knees and screamed.

“Let it out,” Vastra said appearing from nowhere, rubbing his back soothingly, “No one can hear you. Amy can’t hear you.”

Rory looked up at her, “Two thousand years in my head, all that training, all the abilities the Centurion has given me and I couldn’t protect them. My baby girl was taken because I couldn’t protect her.”

She took his face in her hands wiping his cheeks, “Rory, you did absolutely everything you could. There was nothing more you could have done. You can stay here as long as you need. Then, when you’re ready, go back upstairs, and remind Amy that you’re there for her.”

“Thank you, Vastra,” Rory whispered.

A clatter of a teacup hitting a saucer brought Rory back to the room from his memories and he smiled to see Amy laughing with Jenny. They’d been through so much since that day but Rory never forgot that moment with Vastra, where she let him grieve giving him the strength to be Amy’s support once more.

Turning to look at his brother Rory knew he now had to be Rip’s support for whatever had happened to him.

Part Six

[missmaddiewriting]

Intro (Prelude)

This is the first fic in the Magnus’ Battle Scars series

Magnus knew this day would come eventually, he had even bought white clothes in preparation, but that still didn't make him ready. He had set up alarms around the loft, tied to Alec's life force, blue flames with five layers, the more layers lit up, the healthier Alec was. These days it sat at 3, sometimes going to 4 on a really good day. Around Alec's 90th birthday Magnus stopped taking clients, he instead had Max take over, but Magnus still helped out. One day, the flame dropped to two layers being lit up and they both knew. Alec had been on bed rest for months, but today he couldn't even lift his head. Magnus was sitting on the bed with him and looking away crying. Magnus felt stupid, Alec was the one about to die, but here he was, comforting Magnus. Magnus, always knew Alec was too good for him "Look at me" Alec whispered. Magnus turned his head, wiping his tears. "Do you remember what you said to me, that day in Paris for our anniversary?" Magnus did, they had decided to go to Paris after Alec had mentioned he wanted to go back sometime. They were having a picnic under the Eifel tower, glamoured and away from the crowd. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on, Alexander." Magnus had said that after Alec had commented on how he must see so many pretty things throughout his life. Alec had blushed and looked down, not really knowing how to take the compliment, but Magnus lifted his chin up, to look at him and said, "Hey, I mean it." It was one of Alec's fondest memories, but he wasn't sure if it was true anymore. "Is it still true?" Alec asked "Am I still the most beautiful thing you've ever laid your eyes on" "Of course," Magnus replied immediately, "Why wouldn't you be?" "I'm all bony now, my hair is grey and thin, my eyes aren't even blue anymore, they're grey. How could I possibly be beautiful to you" Alec lamented "Because that's not what I see, I see a toned body, muscles there, but not obvious, and amazing abs," Magnus said rubbing his hand down Alec's chest " I see a lush and beautiful head of black hair," He ran his hand through what little hair Alec had left. "I see eyes the most beautiful shade of blue, I see the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes on, I see you, Alexander" "I love you, so much." Alec said, before closing them, and never opening them again. "I love you too, Alec," He responds, finally letting himself openly cry "I love you so much, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now, without you here with me." He got up to call Max and Rafael and let them know that their dad is dead. Alec hadn't wanted them to see him like this, he wanted their last memories of him not to be him weak and stuck in a bed, but the strong man who they looked up to in childhood. They soon portaled over to the loft to comfort their father. Both of them stayed at the loft for a week or two, to help Magnus, before getting back to their own lives. Magnus decided he wanted to do something to honor his husband, so he decided to move into one of the guest rooms, and turn their room into a memorial for his husband. He wanted to do it the mundane way, the only magic being used for small effects. He started with the door. He painted it a lovely shade of blue. The same color as his magic, the same color as Max, the same color as Alec's eyes. He painted the creases of the door gold, and in gold writing, he put Alexander Gideon Lightwood - Bane, September 12, 1989 - January 15th 2,079. Next came interior decorating. He set up shelves all over the room, except for under the window. There he set up a daybed where he could long if life got to be too much for him. On the shelves, he placed every picture of Alec he had. The ones from their wedding day and the boys' birthdays. Different parties Magnus had thrown, where Alec looked annoyed. Magnus had always thought annoyed was Alec's hottest emotion. Well second hottest, there was nothing better looking than a man in love. Magnus stepped back to admire his work. The room's walls were black and red, Alec's to favorite colors with splashes of gold and blue here and there. Magnus knew he was going to truly get over Alec, but this was a start