#granted he never had an issue with carriers or anything

[furshrimps]

Now that Sammy's been doing better for a while I've started thinking again that it would be a good time to see if I can find a better home for him.

In my logical mind it seems the better choice for each of us, overall. For him, for me, even for Bats. I would sorely miss his incredible over-the-top goofiness and that he so easily is motivated to play with or without toys, and just his personal quirky flavor of endless love and affection, his abundant happiness. Knowing myself, I'll probably even miss the challenges in some way. A very bright light of love would be disappearing from my life, and just thinking about losing it makes me cry. The other thing I'm not looking forward to is that I probably should inform his breeder, and I probably could do without whatever she has to say about it. I'm imagining it wouldn't be something nice necessarily, based on my previous experiences with her (although I'd be happy to be proven wrong about that, it could very well be just my fear of rejection speaking). Still, I think she deserves to know IF I indeed find someone I'd trust him with.

On the other hand. To know him in good hands that can provide more training, more enrichment, better/ easier vet care as he gets even older. All things I do struggle with a lot since my health took a turn for the worse, and which I already did struggle with from the start, albeit much more low key. It would lift a huge responsibility from my shoulders, and maybe grant him the chance of a more fulfilled life in the years he has left. I knew from the start he's not the dog for me, that he requires more energy than I have to give, even though I tried my best to provide him with everything I could give him during our years together. And we definitely did give each other a large amount of great experiences that I wanna say we both don't want to have missed.

But I think I at least should try. I'm thinking of making it a requirement that any interested person will visit us a number of times to spend time with him and do things with him, so I can see if he starts opening up to them at all, and maybe see how they handle him in his not-so-good moments. Ultimately, I would leave that decision for Sammy himself, though, since animals tend to have a good idea about where they need to go themselves. I think he deserves to be given that chance. If it works, it works, and I'd be happy to let him go to a better life. And if it doesn't work, it doesn't, then he stays here for the rest of his life and we'll make it work somehow. However that is, but in some way we'll make it work if it comes to that.

[nancypullen]

Weird Stuff

I spent a very long day at work today, nothing was just simple - everyone had an issue to be solved. That's fine, it happens. It isn't like that every day. People come to the library seeking answers and wanting help. I can't always give them the answers they want (no, we can't do your taxes for you, and no, I can't file your divorce papers either) and they're not always nice about it. Today a woman absolutely wore me out because I couldn't/wouldn't transfer the info from her old phone to her new phone. I told her gently several times that she'd be better off taking her phone to Verizon/AT&T/or whatever her carrier might be, and they'll gladly assist her. She wasn't having it. Turns out she has basically a burner phone from Walmart on a plan called StraightTalk. Then she told me that she didn't even have the new phone yet. What?!? She was so testy with me because I couldn't grant her request and she didn't even have the dang phone! Another guy needed help printing some mailing labels attached to an email he received. I printed his attachments and then he gave me hell because he thought they were too small. I printed them exactly as he received them! Note: they were perfectly-sized mailing labels, clearly legible. All day long it was just a parade of disgruntled patrons. That's not even my beef with the work day. Here's what I have a problem with - since my very first day at the library (a month ago!) I can count on one hand (maybe one and a half) the number of times I've heard a please or thank you. Not even kidding. Maybe it's my years in the south, where no one would dream of asking anything of anyone without a please and thankyousomuch, that makes it grate on me so. But I don't think that's it. Even in my airline years, from Alaska to South Florida, most folks used common courtesy and manners. Here in Denton, that's not a thing. I mentioned it to several coworkers and they all concurred. I suppose they're used to it, but I hope I never grow accustomed to it. Would you ever dream of walking up to anyone in a store, library, coffee shop, etc and barking out your demand before snatching it without a word and walking off? It's the darndest thing. I'm truly puzzled by it. When did that become okay? Am I old-fashioned to think that manners are important?

The silver lining to all of that is that I don't feel bad when I have to tell a rude person that I can't grant their request. It used to kill me to have to disappoint someone. The philosophy at the library is "get to the YES", meaning find a way to satisfy that patron. So I can't file your divorce papers, but here are some contacts for free legal advice. No, I can't fill out your tax forms but let me put you in touch with the AARP folks in Federalsburg who will do them for free. No, I can't tell you what that lump is (and please pull your shirt down) but here's the number for Public Health, let's get you an appointment. That sort of thing, all day long. I think most people think of libraries as lovely, quiet places where middle-aged women in cardigans point you toward the books you're looking for - that is not the public library of today. And that's okay, but please use your best manners! I'm begging you. PLEASE. <---See how easy that was? Okay, my ranting and whining is over. Surely tomorrow will be a delight, right? My schedule for Wednesday shows that I start my day with a couple hours of "circulation prep" which means pulling books to transfer to other branches, filling hold requests, emptying big plastic totes that come back to us from other branches and processing those materials - all blissfully tucked away from the ungrateful public. Perfect. Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, I hope it's satisfying for you. I hope it's more than just a paycheck (not that paychecks aren't important, after all they buy chocolate and feed the cats, right?). I hope that your soul feels satisfied at the end of the day. I used to leave the school library knowing that I'd helped some kids, perhaps saved them from a disastrous grade (here's how you cite a source), introduced them to a new author, or just let them hang out in a safe spot during a lonely lunch. That was a good feeling. I wish that for you. Honestly, I wish that for all of us. That's it from me. I'm off to bed. The mister is in Minneapolis visiting Matt for his birthday week (I want to be there!!) so it's just me and the cats. We watched a little murder on tv and had soup for dinner. Girl party! I've had a good soak in the tub and now it's time to snooze. I need my rest before getting pummeled by the public again. Until next time - stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[kiranxrys]

Alone Together Episode 1 Transcript - Alexander Siddig & Andrew Robinson

I hadn’t seen a transcript for this episode going around on Tumblr yet and I thought I would quickly make one to share with anyone who would prefer to read or wants to read along/revisit the first episode in text form (and the YouTube subtitles are mostly useless, annoyingly). Please let me know if you think I’ve made an error anywhere and I’ll amend it!

watch: one | two | three | four

read: two | three | four

ANNOUNCER (ON-SCREEN): ‘Alone Together’ - a DS9 companion, Episode 1 - ‘These Days’. It has been about 25 years since the Dominion War ended. The Federation isn’t quite the same. Starfleet is much more consistently militarized these days. Earth may be paradise, but humanity is less ideologically empathetic. Since the recent Romulan attempts to extinguish synthetic life by infiltrating Starfleet Command, benevolence is taking a backseat to security these days. 

Elim Garak has been Castellan of the Cardassian Assembly since the new order was established following the Dominion War. Garak, of course, also has direct control over a newly resurrected Obsidian Order, though not by title. 

Julian Bashir is still a doctor on Deep Space 9 but is also coordinating the activities of Section 31. What we’ve learned is that upon sharing a consciousness with Luther Sloane using stolen Romulan technology, his genetically enhanced brain committed much of what he learned to his eidetic memory. That information had to be contained but could be put to good use. He was given little choice in the matter. Maintaining his cover as a Chief Medical Officer in the Bajoran sector met his needs, and he saw no reason to change.

[fade to black]

JULIAN BASHIR (VOICE ONLY): Mission log, stardate 737114. I’m approaching Cardassia Prime in response to a rather enigmatic request for medical aid from Castellan Garak, the leader of the Cardassian government. Though it’s hardly surprising that Garak might be withholding information, it seems that a reunion of sorts will be forthcoming. I’ve left the Infirmary in the capable hands of Doctor Jabara while I’m off the station. I must admit, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. 

JULIAN (ON-SCREEN): Bashir to Central Command, I’ve just entered orbit of Cardassia Prime, requesting approval to transport to Cardassia.

ELIM GARAK (VOICE ONLY): Stand by, Doctor. Don’t be in such a hurry.

JULIAN: Garak. I didn’t expect you to be at the Central Command, it’s good to hear your voice.

GARAK: My dear doctor, are we starting the lies already?

JULIAN (LAUGHING): It’s true, Garak. It’s good to hear your voice! That’s not a- Look, more importantly, if you’ll grant approval I can beam to your current location.

GARAK: Doctor, I’m not at Central Command. I’ve merely intercepted your subspace communications link. Unfortunately, Doctor, the Federation will not be setting foot on Cardassia today, and, to be quite honest, you don’t want to be here.

JULIAN: Garak, your message suggested some urgency in my arrival. Quite frankly, what the hell am I doing here if I can’t beam down?

GARAK: Would you uh- [laughs] believe pure, unadulterated nostalgia?

JULIAN: Would you?

GARAK (ON-SCREEN): [laughs] I missed you too Doctor. So, how is life on the station?

JULIAN: Well, Bajoran fashions just aren’t the same since you left.

GARAK: I’m sure.

JULIAN: But much of life has returned to what it once was, as much as it ever could, I suppose. Now-

GARAK: I was sorry to hear about Dax.

JULIAN: Thank you. I um… I miss Ezri every day. Ten years. I, well, that is- we, Dax and I, we tried to make it work. I- I was so happy Dax made it back to Trill on time. Cairn and I, we were very different people. He’s a botanist – can you imagine? Dax as a botanist. I suppose it’s why Keiko didn’t seem to mind my business as much. She and Dax had so much to talk about but, well, once the Symbiosis Commission discovered our continued relationship, well, we just uh- we couldn’t-

GARAK: Doctor, there’s no need to explain.

JULIAN: No. Dax always encouraged me to talk about my feelings, though there’s not much else to say, really. I had never really considered being in love with another man, but it was Dax. Ezri, Jadzia, even Cairn, it was Dax, is Dax. But we- we just couldn’t- I didn’t-

GARAK: It is difficult to find a good counselor to sort out our deepest sorrows these days.

JULIAN: I suppose it is.

GARAK: You’re an honourable man, Doctor. You loved Dax, you could do nothing less than your heart demanded. I know the pain of love all too well, especially a love that has everything working against it.

JULIAN: Ziyal.

GARAK: Ziyal, yes. Yes, even exiles have hearts, Doctor. Even [laughs] Elim Garak. When it comes right down to it, he has a heart as well. In fact, my heart is partially the reason why I’m here.

JULIAN: So, this is a house call? Damn it, Garak, why didn’t you tell me on subspace? What- what are your symptoms? Why don’t you want me to beam down?

GARAK: Well, so many questions, one hardly knows which to answer first.

JULIAN: Your symptoms, Garak. What is wrong with your heart?

GARAK: Well, it’s not just my heart, Doctor. Actually the most concerning symptom seems to be a degenerative condition that causes the ill to be especially susceptible to suggestion. Luckily my infection is relatively new, and rather unexplained as my exposure to the public tends to be limited to state functions and the like, you know, the life of a politician.

JULIAN: The ill? Garak, what are you saying?

GARAK: A virus, Doctor. Cardassia appears to be facing a- a minor health issue. We’re trying to contain the infection to one region, but we may have moved… far too late.

JULIAN: A minor health issue? You are a champion of understatement! ‘The ill’ suggests that this isn’t just about you but your ability to hide the facts seems to have been tainted over the years.

GARAK: Doctor?

JULIAN: Since your speech at the Lakarian City memorial, the ridges on your neck have grown paler and your breathing rate has increased.

GARAK: You liked my speech?

JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, you contacted me! How is this the first time that I’m hearing about this? Why is the planet not being quarantined? Your message said ‘medical aid’ – I assumed that I was just coming here as a preliminary consultation having something to do with one of your colonies. Now it sounds like an outbreak that needs to be contained.

GARAK: Doctor, quarantine means announcing the problem to the galaxy. This is an internal matter. You obviously don’t appreciate the severity of this virus, but you needn’t worry – no one is allowed to leave Cardassia, no one is currently being permitted to enter the atmosphere.

JULIAN: I cannot imagine you can contain the population without a reason. Just how bad is it?

GARAK: Oh, I’ve given them a reason, Doctor, but you shouldn’t worry about that. There are more important things requiring your focus right now.

JULIAN: Of course. How much- how many are infected?

GARAK: At last count, the virus had been contained to three continents. Nearly 68% of the population in those regions has been infected.

JULIAN: And you call it a ‘minor issue’ Garak?! That’s a pandemic!

GARAK: Doctor, when I say that the ill have developed a degenerative condition, I speak specifically of their thought processes. It is true that we have determined that it is a virus – a biological contaminant of sorts – but the Central Command is hardly a healthcare organization and while the degeneration is affecting the cardiopulmonary system as well, all of the symptoms seem to be driven by misfiring neurons, and therein lies the problem.

JULIAN: A virus that affects the brain is no small problem. The fact that early infections are showing in terms of dysfunction relatively mild systems doesn’t mean people won’t start to die.

GARAK: Yes, Doctor. And I haven’t.

JULIAN: My God, Garak. You’re infected.

GARAK: Why do you think I contacted you? I want the best.

JULIAN: And hoping that my genetic enhancements will allow me to diagnose your symptoms without scanning equipment?  

GARAK: I really have missed your mistrust, Doctor. The physicians here have the tendency to avoid the necessary dispassion for harder truths. You, however, have a refreshingly forthright bedside manner.

JULIAN: Wow, a compliment. You must be neurologically compromised. Well of course, of course I’ll do everything that I can. Do you know anything more about the virus? How is it passed on? How does it proliferate in the body? Have your doctors attempted any therapies that show any promise?

GARAK: Well, it seems to take several days to propagate in the carrier. During that time, sufferers develop a rather serious cough... [inaudible] …the dispatcher reaches the brain so our assumption it that it is spread through the air. Most hospitals have been closed to all but the infected to try and control the outbreak. As a result, our doctors are learning from their patients as they are treating them. As it stands now, they can only treat symptoms. Medical staff is reporting to external bodies to ensure that anyone studying the infection isn’t also battling a neurological disease. Progress is limited and all too slow.

JULIAN: Garak, I’m not sure how I can help you if I can’t examine you or access your data.

GARAK: Doctor, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to put yourself at risk. After all, I’m counting on you to save us all. And I believe that an outside perspective may be exactly what we need.

JULIAN: So no pressure?

GARAK: You’re a bright man, Doctor – put that genetically-enhanced brain of yours to work.

JULIAN: Well, I can’t examine you from orbit. My shuttlecraft sensors may be able to me that you’re alive, they can isolate you for transport, but they can hardly determine more than the most modest of life signs, and while I can see outward symptoms, Garak, I can’t for the life of me figure out how to see through your skull. I suppose I could transport a tricorder down there for a preliminary scan.

GARAK: I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Doctor.

JULIAN: Oh, of course you can’t. Can you send me your most recent medical scans?

GARAK: Unfortunately, no.

JULIAN: And why not?

GARAK: All of my genuine medical records are routinely deleted and replaced with falsified data. All data rods in which those records once existed have been destroyed, all computers in which the data rods were placed have been vaporized. My dear doctor, I’m the leader of the Cardassian people! Especially now, I can’t afford to broadcast my weaknesses to all, to anyone who feels they could exploit them.

JULIAN: The more things change, the more they remain the same.

GARAK: Meaning?

JULIAN: A presumption of godliness, most certainly a great paranoia. You haven’t managed to find yourself a staff that you trust to protect your life. To be quite honest, I’m surprised your staff doesn’t have implants that allow you to control them.

GARAK: Oh, Doctor, your assumptions hurt me deeply! Of course they do. If news of this infection gets out, and I can’t be clearer than this, Cardassia will be devastated. And we won’t be the only world that will fall.

JULIAN: Garak, you seem to believe that I can cure this virus from orbit, without any information.

GARAK: Well, Doctor, this virus doesn’t only infect the average citizen. Everyone is at risk. Everyone – the government, the military. Imagine if only a few of their people were infected. They find it difficult to concentrate. They’re finding themselves susceptible to suggestion. And what if intelligence agents of foreign governments found their way to Cardassia during this crisis?

JULIAN: It could destroy the Cardassia you’ve been rebuilding for over two decades.

GARAK: Yes.

JULIAN: But quarantine would keep foreign nationals off-planet and keep the rest of us safe from infection, assuming it can even infect off-worlders.

GARAK: Again, Doctor, it would announce the problem before we have a solution.

JULIAN: But it could help produce the solution you so desperately need!

GARAK: The risk is too great, Doctor.

JULIAN: Garak! Lives are at stake!

GARAK: Hundreds, perhaps thousands, to save billions. Doctor – will. You. Help. Me?

JULIAN: First and foremost, I’m a doctor, Garak. And I’m your friend.

GARAK: Yes. One more thing we should keep to ourselves.

JULIAN: You know Garak… you are being more paranoid than usual. You remind me of the exiled tailor I met so many years ago.

GARAK: Ah, but as you said yourself Doctor, the more things change-

JULIAN: The more they stay the same. But Garak, so much has changed. You’re the leader of your people.

GARAK: Julian… let’s drop the pretensions, shall we?

JULIAN: Whatever do you mean?

GARAK: You know that I have rebuilt the Obsidian Order, and the reason that I know that you know is because I know that you are working for Starfleet Intelligence. Your posting at Deep Space 9 is merely your cover. Why would a religious sanctuary like Deep Space 9 need a doctor of your capability, with such a limited Starfleet presence? I must admit, you have done an excellent job of obscuring your intelligence role.

JULIAN: Dear, dear Garak. Have you been keeping tabs on me? I suppose of all people you would be the only person I might be able to trust with such information. Assuming any of your conclusions are true. But Starfleet still has a presence and Deep Space 9 is still a major way station for commerce and diplomacy in the Bajoran sector.

GARAK: Of course you can trust me with sensitive information Julian-

JULIAN: [chuckles]

GARAK: -at least until there’s a reason you can’t. Oh, but let’s hope it never comes to that. I do like you; I did from the very beginning. You may be my only true friend. Since Mila’s passing, our all too infrequent exchanges have been my only respite from a world without trust. The political world on Cardassia deplores a vacuum and the old ways are clung to, even after the war. It took me years to bring Cardassians around to another way of thinking. The arts are celebrated, the people are fed. Life is no longer a struggle, but… paranoia is rampant once more.

JULIAN: Then I suppose you’ve been the ideal leader.

GARAK: Well, I do appear to have the appropriate skill set and experience, yes.

JULIAN: You could always go back to being a plain, simple tailor.

GARAK (LAUGHING): You would be surprised by how many of my old vocations I still dabble in. I’ve even taken up taxidermy! Yes, it’s true! But stuffing a tribble isn’t as challenging as perhaps a six-legged [uncertain] marsupial, but it passes the time. And so many wonderful things fit inside an animal that need only trill to appear alive.

JULIAN: [laughs]

GARAK: But as you said Julian, you are my friend, and one of the things I learned from working in the Obsidian Order under Enabran Tain, was that friends are a liability. Enemies are easy. Friends… friends are the challenge. When I was his protégé I had a job to do, relationships were tools to achieve my objectives. I don’t have time for friends, I don’t have room for emotional attachments.

JULIAN: And then you were exiled.

GARAK: And then… I was exiled.

JULIAN: I had no idea.

GARAK: About what?

JULIAN: Am I your only friend?

GARAK: Well… the only one living.

JULIAN: You said that your cardiopulmonary system seems to be demonstrating symptoms consistent with this neurolytic virus.

GARAK: Mm-hmm.

JULIAN: I need to at least access the database being used by the off-site researchers working on a cure.

GARAK: I’m sorry to disappoint you, Doctor – I’ve never been an ideal patient, as you well know. But while I trust you, I cannot risk any access that Starfleet Intelligence might have built into your shuttle.

JULIAN: Garak, you’re tying my hands. Do you have access to a medical scanner? Can you scan yourself?

GARAK: I’ve been a tailor, a gardener, a spy, who’s to say I’m not a doctor as well?

JULIAN: I suppose stranger things have happened.

GARAK: Oh, a shapeshifter saved the galaxy by going for a swim, a Starfleet captain turned out to be a god, a Cardassian legate turned out to be the devil, you were married to a woman three centuries your senior – stranger things, my dear doctor, happen all the time.

JULIAN: You may have a point. Although to be fair, Dax is three hundred years older, not Ezri. Ezri was several years younger than me.

GARAK: Semantics, Doctor.

JULIAN: Ah, here we are.

GARAK: I’m sorry?

JULIAN: I’ve created an encrypted backdoor to your central database.

GARAK: Ooh, of course you did. Yes, but it won’t help you. Our researches are working in a closed system, it is impossible to access their research through the central network.

JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, I’m trying to help you! I encrypted the access, there was no danger to you or you people! I used a fractal regression to develop access points at either end.

GARAK: And I sincerely appreciate your efforts, Julian. That’s why you’re here. And of course that is why I am convinced no one else will be able to save us.

JULIAN: I cannot do this without any information about the pathogen. And even the smartest person in the galaxy would be hard-pressed to develop a cure to an unknown virus quickly enough to prevent its spread or knowledge of its existence to the outside world.

GARAK: I have faith in you, Doctor. And to put your mind at ease, you should know that very few citizens on Cardassia are even aware that they are infected. And I’ve committed the Order to a substantial misinformation campaign to keep it that way.

JULIAN: How long do you expect that to last? The longer the infected believe that they’re free to live their normal lives or even to travel to and from health centers for treatment for whatever malady they believe they have, the faster the real virus will spread.

GARAK: Well, it seems its symptoms vary in their intensity. The cough can be persistent or periodic. And when that initial symptom passes, the neurological symptoms cause sufferers to present a variety of ailments. It is only those doctors who discovered the virus and were subsequently visited by some associates that are aware of the larger problem. And they are the very physicians currently researching the virus on my behalf.

JULIAN: If you are able to contact them then there’s no reason that I can’t access their data!

GARAK: Doctor, we’ve been through this.

JULIAN: Garak, we’ve been through a lot of things!

GARAK (LAUGHING): Yes.

JULIAN: You didn’t call me here to explain Cardassia’s post-war isolationist bureaucracy!

GARAK: [laughs]

JULIAN: I came because a friend in need asked me!

GARAK: You didn’t know why I called you, Doctor. So please, don’t offer me your selfless pretense.

JULIAN: Pretense?! You think after all this time your lives and deceptions would keep me from helping you? I can tell when you’re lying Garak, and you know when I’m telling the truth. I promise you that no one will ever know about your role in the cover-up of the virus, at least not from me.

GARAK: I… I want you to set course for the southern polar region of Cardassia Prime. The magnetic interference will make it more difficult for prying eyes to access your subspace signal. You’ll find that my alleged paranoia has a purpose. 

JULIAN: Computer, set course 118 mark 72.

COMPUTER: [chimes] Acknowledged.

JULIAN: Engage at one-quarter impulse.

COMPUTER: Course laid in. [chimes]

JULIAN: My signal was encrypted from the very beginning. I assume the same is true of the signal you used to isolate and redirect my subspace carrier wave. Isn’t it a little bit late to begin worrying now, Garak?

GARAK: Our signal may be secure between one another, but any system can be breached given enough time and expertise. And what I have to tell you…

JULIAN: Just tell me, Garak. I’m over the polar region as you asked.

GARAK: Yes, so you are, so you are. Now, good, wait- wait… Good. Now that we’re comfortably alone, let me ask you this: do viruses normally pop up undetected in a population with little to no prior warning? And how many unknown pathogens exist in a planetary ecosystem with our level of technological development?

JULIAN: Well, to be quite honest, pathogens can unexpectedly adapt or cross species barriers. Centuries ago on Earth, industrial pollution led to a climate change which in turn caused previously isolated microorganisms to be released into the biosphere.

GARAK: Yes, you truly have an answer for everything.

JULIAN: It comes in handy. But I suspect you’re going somewhere with this so please, continue.

GARAK: Our research has found some… peculiarities in the viral RNA, and admittedly I don’t understand all of the specifics, but, to put it bluntly, the virus has been engineered. I’m sending you two images of the viral RNA we’ve discovered. The images are all that I can risk sending you now. If you can find the source, you may find a cure. Alternatively, if a cure was not developed… you can avenge my death.

JULIAN: Not currently one of my skill sets, Garak. But why the pretense? You could’ve told me this immediately- actually, don’t answer that. I’ll need some time to do an analysis of this to determine what might work to counteract the viral infection. Annoyingly, there is no systemic treatment that I can even begin to research without knowing the underlying cause. But over the last twenty-five years, you must’ve made all sorts of new enemies. According to the latest intelligence, the only dangerous political intrigue is coming out of the Romulan Empire these days.

GARAK: Yes, well, leading a government comes with its own risks, to be sure, Doctor. But why do they have to be new enemies? Of course the Romulans have never been great fans of mine – I mean I left their embassy’s grounds-keeping staff so many years ago. Oh, those poor orchids, they’ll never be the same. And there’s always Kai.

JULIAN: The Kai.

GARAK: Ah, Kira- Kira, dear Kira’s never been a fan of mine.

JULIAN: We both know that Nerys would have never worked this slowly if she wanted to kill you.

GARAK: [laughs]

JULIAN: And she would only kill you. But Nerys is hardly the same person since she left the militia to join the Vedek Assembly, and now that she’s the Kai, this level of genetic manipulation would have to accomplished by someone with intimate knowledge of the Cardassian physiology as well as the capacity to evade security of your medical system.

GARAK: Yes, although like I said, it is an internal Cardassian matter. I’m sure there are plenty of elder Cardassians who would enjoy watching my life come to an end from torture. Dukat’s father- I mean, uh… [laughs] to one kanar-induced tryst with the man himself, to finally becoming involved with Ziyal, and whatever else-

JULIAN: Wait- wait, wait, wait you- hang on, you- you and Dukat?

GARAK: Ooh, yes. Surprising, isn’t it? Yes, two nights, maybe, before my exile, I’d been feeling quite powerful. I wouldn’t have normally lowered my guard even among my fellow Cardassians. Dukat was enjoying his second bottle of kanar, was looking for someone to blame for his most recent failures to overcome the Bajoran resistance, and there I was. He promised my death from across Quark’s bar. Later that evening he found his way back to my table to apologize – uncharacteristic, absolutely, to be sure. But kanar can do that to a man. We stole away to a quiet corner on the second level to talk, and then we found our way to an unoccupied holosuite.

JULIAN: I don’t know what to say.

GARAK: Well, I don’t need to tell you, Doctor – it was an unplanned direction for my evening to take. And suffice to say it didn’t soften Dukat’s general opinion of me. [laughs] He did keep his distance for a long time afterward.

JULIAN: So, that story had a happy ending, if you’ll pardon the pun.

GARAK: Pun?

JULIAN: Uh, it- it’d be funny on Earth. Though tragic, too – sort of like a sad clown, really. Miles will love it.

GARAK: Doctor, could we perhaps find out what is slowly eating away at me before revealing my darkest secrets to Professor O’Brien over an ale.

JULIAN: Of course, of course. I think the first step is to cross-reference known immunogenic agents that could have been introduced into your system. Even if the virus is a new pathogen, its mode of infection could be a million different things. You should review your schedule and try and determine an environment over which your control was limited, a place where the food and drink could’ve been tampered with or perhaps a place where you could have been unexpectedly exposed to an air assault. But… about this dalliance with Dukat-

GARAK: Oh Doctor, please. Provincial human attitudes aside-

JULIAN: Of course.

GARAK: -your species didn’t always have synthehol, and every species seems to go through a period of poor choices. Believe it or not, Cardassians are a passionate people, a people who yearn to find joy wherever it may lie. And remember, that we were in the midst of a Bajoran occupation and there wasn’t much joy to be had for those of us assigned to Terok Nor. Decades later, my reforms are helping to shape a modern Cardassia.

JULIAN: Understood. Though I take exception to the word ‘provincial’.

GARAK: Oh, of course you do. Now, let me take a look at my agenda… According to my doctors, I could have been exposed more than a month ago.

JULIAN: A month? Well, you certainly waited long enough to contact me.

GARAK: Well, well we do have doctors on Cardassia, and I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I didn’t look to my own people before seeking outside assistance. However, I’m not naïve enough to trust them completely. And what kind of leader would I be if I did?

JULIAN: Fair enough. I need to get some biometric information, please, from you if I’m even to begin researching cures. Can you transport yourself to a hospital with proper scanning equipment that I can access?

GARAK: Oh dear, I- I- I can do better than that, Doctor. I can do better than that. My residence is equipped with some of the best holographic technology in the quadrant – what type of equipment do we need?

JULIAN: I didn’t realize Cardassia had made such strides in holography.

GARAK: Oh, the technology is Federation, actually. Cardassian engineers build wonderful ships, but their work with artificial intelligence isn’t what it should be. Political life has its perks – I even have an EMH.

JULIAN: Well can I talk to him?

GARAK: Doctor, he’s obviously offline during this crisis. We’re wasting time better spent on the issue at hand! Now shall we begin?

JULIAN: Alright. Well the first thing we’ll need is a standard biobed with-

GARAK: Doctor, doctor, wait- I’m detecting a coherent signal directed at your shuttle. Yes, the magnetic currents over the poles should’ve obscured your presence. We may have a problem.

JULIAN: Hang on, it looks like an encrypted subspace signal… but I can’t determine the origin. Stand by, I’m trying- it’s… it’s from Earth. Well, I think I’ve got it. One moment… Jake?

[fade to black]

[CREDITS]

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 70 – Stepping Into the Daily Life  (Last Chapter)

“Frankenstein...” 

For the second time, Lunark and Muzaka sang in unison, the former out of anxiety and the latter out of fluster. 

Lunark was making pretzels out of her arms and legs in her lord's presence, in snow-white dress shirt loosely curved around her form and black shorts that werewolves don when they must find themselves on examination tables or in experimental tanks. 

Her style could not even meet the minimum demands to qualify as “stylish,” but Muzaka knew that she would never dress like this on her own.

Inevitably, his suspicion was directed to the man standing next to her, and Muzaka mercilessly spun his eyes and kicked at his head to blueprint the plan the blonde man was harboring. 

And then Frankenstein fired a shot aimed right through his calm.

“Lunark and I are together.” 

The unseen flame shattered Muzaka's eardrums, to hop and bounce between gyri and sulci of his brain and throw out his poise. 

“Don't tell me... You mean, 'together' together?” 

“'Together' together.” 

“Frankenstein!” 

I'd thought I told you to please make sure she'll give up on her feelings!

How can you do this to me?! 

Muzaka could not do anything more than keeping his lips parted in frenzied shock, lest she learn about the secret deal he made with Frankenstein. 

Much to his relief, Frankenstein knew how to keep a secret a secret. 

“I'm aware of what you fear. Of course you'd fear. You should know very well what human-werewolf love is like. After all, - forgive me - you had to suffer grievous parting with Lady Eileen and Miss Ashleen.” 

At once, Muzaka's lips furiously collided with each other, at the mention of names that had been flowers and thorns engraved into his heart. 

Now the petals have fallen, the thorns removed, leaving behind only nostalgic perfume, which he can now relaxedly albeit rarely articulate. 

In this case, however, perhaps because they came after Frankenstein's withdrawal from his request, Muzaka was quite unhappy. 

He would have been caught in rage not long after, if it were not for his knowledge that Frankenstein will never break a promise unless there is a very good reason to. 

“You wish Lunark wouldn't even catch a glimpse of what you had to walk through. There's no guarantee that she will be safe from the sabotage from her own kind. Love with humans is considered a taboo in your clan. But you don't wish to leave this pseudo-tradition untouched, do you?” 

Right afterwards, Frankenstein was pinned with arrow-stares silently demanding explanations. 

“I could feel various changes gliding over your domain ever since you returned to the throne. Such as, training warriors based on their natural-born power, untainted by experiments or body modifications. Improvement on relations with nobles. Demise of history of sacrificing your very kind, under orders of Maduke. And I bet amelioration of the counterpart with humans is included on your list. 'Cause lately the wolfkind has benefited from humans, not limited to me. And in order to do that, don't you think you must turn the table in favor of relationships with humans?” 

“...So, you're saying I should make use of your relationship?” 

“Consider it a destruction for creation. We'll destroy the wall that must now be brought down, to give rise to the seeds waiting to sprout from underneath.” 

No sound came from Muzaka, but he was deliberating. 

Frankenstein was right; with new era must come new rules, according to which he must remove the disconnection between mankind and wolfkind. 

And Frankenstein was offering a hand in this matter, which as a werewolf lord he must accept it. 

Lunark's face was a hint that Frankenstein was not the sole advocate of this suggestion. 

As for Muzaka's secondary concern, he dreaded that Lunark will not be able to fully dedicate herself to the QuadraNet Project and post-eradication of the Union due to her unreciprocated love. 

That is, unreciprocated love that will soon assume a wholesome relationship and thus serve no more as bars in her path, if Frankenstein is to make her emotions flow freely like thawed river. 

And yet Muzaka could not help but weigh the pros and cons, as he was worried that Lunark's choice will eventually turn into a tragedy. 

Lunark knew this, and hence she decided to be a lawyer for herself. 

“I know you care for me, my lord. You have been caring for me ever since I was a child. But trust me when I say this - the reason why I choose this path is not because I expect only happiness.” 

As Lunark put together her words, her hand slowly snaked its way towards the man standing next to her, to clasp his fingers and show how iron-hard their hearts are woven. 

“When there's spring, there's winter. When there's light, there's darkness. In other words, when there's darkness, there's light. And when there's winter, there's spring. That is our world. That is life. So is love, I believe. When there's happiness, there's misfortune. When there's misfortune, there's happiness. Happiness is not the only treasure I expect inside the chest. I have simply chosen to open it.” 

Tremor evaporated from Lunark as her speech carried on. 

The pair of pink diamonds on her face was sparkling with conviction instead of credulity, with confidence instead of arrogance. 

“It doesn't matter how stormy our path will be. No howl of rain or avalanche of water will make us release each other's hand. So please, put your faith in us and watch us. Nothing can stop us, as long as we're together.”

Tremor was gone from Muzaka as well, by the end of her deliverance.

But the werewolf lord's mouth was fixed in its place, not even as much as mumbling what is winding in his head. 

And Frankenstein's patience was on a strike for the day. 

“If this is how things will be, I will expend one of my wishes right now.”

Lunark merely let her head lean on her shoulder, clueless about Frankenstein's so-called wish. 

In devastating contrast, Muzaka's eyes tumbled up and down, in overwhelming disbelief of what he had just heard. 

“You said you will grant me any wish, as long as it's in an earthly power. I hereby state my first wish - I want you to be the carrier of banner in support of our relationship.” 

Muzaka shook his head, while Frankenstein eyed Lunark as a promise of details after this. 

“For the love of wolves, I bet no one can best you when it comes to stabbing my sanity at the least expected moment. How can you pull that one from under your sleeve right at...” 

“So? Are you saying you can't?” 

“...Of course not. I gave you my word. It only makes sense for me to keep it. But you don't need a reminder of what would happen if you so as much as even drive her to tears, do you?” 

Muzaka half-heartedly laid out his warning, to which the pair responded with a beam. 

A beam that ultimately urged a smile from Muzaka, which turned out to be short-lived thanks to Frankenstein's follow-up. 

“And allow me to use my second wish. I need you to give Lunark holidays right now. Two months would do it.” 

“Say what?! You can't demand it without any prior dis...” 

“I already had a discussion. We already had one.” 

“No, I meant...! Okay, sure, talking to Lunark is one thing, but you didn't discuss it with...!” 

Muzaka could not even finish his words, before he pushed the palm of his hand into his forehead. 

He knew nothing can beat Frankenstein when he is in his deal-with-it-for-all-I-care mode. 

“No wonder Lunark is dressed like that. This is what you had in mind?” 

“Obviously. Lunark's duties are not impossible at the hands of other warriors, are they? Not to mention Union can only watch themselves as the result of the recent trouble at Seoul; their manpower has already dwindled before the event. Which is why this would be the perfect time for Lunark to enjoy a vacation.” 

Peaceful was his voice, but Frankenstein was basically rubbing - no, stabbing into Muzaka's face that he is more than willing to have a discussion involving fists and claws if he is not to issue a pass from the office for Lunark.

Soon enough, the werewolf lord nodded and waved his hand. 

“Fine. I'll make sure Lunark's absence will not hinder us for the next two months. Now run along. Be free.” 

“My gratitude, my lord.” 

“Much appreciated, Lord Muzaka.” 

Frankenstein and Lunark bowed and turned to leave, but then Muzaka unzipped his lips after a bit of delay. 

“Lunark.” 

“Yes, sir?” 

A momentary silence captured Muzaka, gazing at Lunark with her body rotated halfway towards him. 

“Nothing. You look beautiful today.” 

Replied Muzaka, his lips curled into a somewhat nostalgic, wistfully affectionate curves. 

'Ashleen... Eileen...' 

As soon as Lunark and Frankenstein left with a brief smile, Muzaka scooched into his throne, to resummon the scent ghosting within his heart. 

Lunark had no fear for winter or darkness, as long as she had Frankenstein with her, so she claimed. 

It was reminiscent of his stance when he met Eileen. And when he had Ashleen. 

A stance that was closed off into a tragedy. 

Nevertheless, for some reason he could not help feeling this will not be the same for the two of them. 

Which is why in reality, he had been smiling inwardly as Lunark was speaking in defense of their relationship. 

And he was about to give in to their protest, which was preceded by Frankenstein's use of his wishes. 

'Looks like my clan is now walking towards an actual change. Eileen... Ashleen... How I wish I could have met you two in this era.' 

Regret cannot undo or do what is done or not done. 

For now, the only thing he can do is to light up his hope for the future and pray for luck. 

So that one day, relationship between humans and werewolves will be but part of daily life. 

'I know you two can do it. So just stay the way you are, loving and beautiful.' 

*****

Few days later, KSA headquarter 

“What's up? I'd thought we've still got time until the departure.” 

Yuigi was checking her bag for one last time, before she turned towards her visitor. 

“Are you sure you won't regret this?” 

“Of course I'm sure. You don't take me for some toddler, do you? I think you've gotten your standards too high, now that you're way out of the Union agents' league, including mine. You seem to have forgotten how I used to lounge at the top of the pyramid called the Union.” 

“That's not what I...” 

Takio could not hide his disappointment. 

They had previously plotted a scenario of signing her name on the list of tenants at Frankenstein's house. 

He was expectant to see her impeccably freed from the shadow of the Union, to relish an ordinary life. 

And she knew what he was thinking. 

Yuigi had been lost. 

She had been lost between her life as Yuigi of Cerberus and her long-lost life as Raciela, like a frog unwelcome at both the earth and the water. 

But now she was even convinced that the reason why she had been lost, crouched without direction and assurance, was simply to hop higher than she could ever pull off in the past. 

“I'll be fine. I have found the new direction in my life. Now it's my duty to dedicate myself to my new mission and pay for my days at the Union. So don't worry and be faithful to your ordinary life. Do that for me. Besides, it's not like this is the last time we'll ever see each other. We'll be talking on designated basis, and I'll drop by whenever I need maintenance on my kits. I'll see you then.” 

Takio's disquiet disappeared as he listened to her. 

He was relieved. 

She may not be able to take on an ordinary life, but there is no need to worry about or be sorry for her. 

She just proved that she has landed upon the new agenda of her life as well as a respite of heart, and that was good enough for him. 

“I like the coffee from that cafe we visited. I'll make sure to buy you back. So wait for it.” 

And that was when Yuigi - that was when Raciela smiled. 

For the first time, she smiled a smile full of a human heart, no longer an artificial sneer. 

*****

“You ready?” 

The 3rd Elder greeted Raciela upon her entrance to the KSA rooftop.

The white-haired man was donning a long coat identical to hers, hooded and furnished with a heavy backpack, surrounded by Tao, M-21, Taesik, the doctor, Yeonsu, Sangin, and Raizel, whose phone was connected live-time to Lascrea and the heads of noble clans standing in the Lord's Hall. 

Then at last, the last of the gang made their arrival. 

“Boss!” 

“...Lunark?” 

“What are you doing here...?” 

Lunark's feet effortlessly glided upon the rooftop, and the 3rd Elder made a stiff, awkward recognition with his eyes, in acknowledgment of the length of hiatus in their encounters. 

Pow!!! 

At then the werewolf lashed out an unwarned punch, driving the man right to the edge of the building. 

“M-miss Lunark! He's no longer sturdy enough to...” 

“Handle my power. Yes, yes. I know. I knew that. My fist knew that. I heard how his perfection as a cyclist has been undermined, to the point that he now needs training wheels to ride a bike. Which is why I made sure you wouldn't get to hold a funeral for that guy.” 

She was telling the truth, the 3rd Elder realized, as he put himself back on his feet, rubbing a side of his face. 

His face did throb, so hard that he wanted to stick his hand and rummage through his head to check and see if his brain is intact. 

Contrary to the pain, the only damage he suffered was abrasion that would take less than a minute for recovery. 

Plus, he could see how Frankenstein was smirking behind Lunark, his arms crossed. 

He and Frankenstein did have a word about his betrayal, which ended - sort of - with apology and forgiveness. 

Apparently such process did not completely rinse off the grudge, and the 3rd Elder had no say in this matter. 

He knew he deserved it; actually, he deserved more, he thought. 

<Are you sure you will have no regrets?> 

Lascrea's question chimed through the phone. 

It was a rare occasion for her to start off a conversation with a voluntary question. 

And not a syllable or a vowel has changed with the 3rd Elder's answer. 

“I'm positive. This is what I must do. I must pay for the choice I made out of fear. And for the losses and sacrifices I called upon as a result.” 

When he held Helga's hand, the 3rd Elder was full of fear. 

He feared his followers' sacrifices, the Union's labor, and his tears would be wrong. 

He feared his followers, the Union, and he would be wrong. 

Wrong, fruitless, and in vain. 

However, now he has accepted the truth. 

He accepted that his followers, the Union, and he were wrong. 

He accepted that he has been forcing himself to be deaf and blind to the truth that had been with him since long ago. 

“The Union was originally based on the human crusade for the welfare of mankind. I admit the Union's standing point and pathway have been lethally distorted for the past few centuries. So now it's only logical to cleanse the Union's orbit and spend its final resources and manpower for what is truly meant for humans. So now there is only one thing the Union must do - making itself gone for the sake of mankind, and thereby protecting the ordinary world for the ordinary souls. And I shall take my responsibility for the past, the misdeeds, and the sin of the Union. And for the calamity at Seoul.”

Quoted the 3rd Elder, in solemn announcement of his motive for repentance. 

“I'm afraid I can't set for you the date, but once the last shade of the Union is wiped off clean... I will gladly hand over my life. I know I am being more than shameless, but please, I'd like to ask you to wait until then.” 

And he gave his word that he will never again betray these people. 

He will never again betray the mankind. 

He will never again betray himself. 

The white-haired Icarus who blindly coveted the sun's position was saved from his plummet towards the sea by these people - those endeavoring to protect ordinary life - as well as the ordinary people. 

The moment his steps were about to carry him off the concrete floor, the 3rd Elder whispered an addition. 

“...Benjamin.” 

All eyes and ears perked up at an unfamiliar name. 

“It's Benjamin now. That is my true name. The name I shall answer to from now on.” 

Sheepish but true, that was the smile from Benjamin. 

That was the last of himself he exhibited before taking himself and Raciela away towards the horizon. 

And Frankenstein was the one to break the still that lingered. 

“You okay? Let me see your hand.” 

He inspected her hand, his every contour and plane dripping concern.

“Aww, maybe I should have loosened up a bit. My hand stings a little.” 

Lunark stage-whined, sticking out her hand free of any speck, let alone a wound. 

A sight that gave the spectators an illusionary impression of watching how their sanity was being burned alive. 

“We need to talk about this. When did they end up... Like that?” 

“By 'like that,' are you referring to what I'm thinking?” 

“Probably. Did you see his face when Miss Lunark punched Mr. Benjamin? He appeared ecstatic... And enamored. By her.” 

“But is it just me, or do they actually look great together?”

After indulging in a brief moment of fluff and endearment, Frankenstein turned to face the crowd. 

“Now why don't we scatter? We must go.” 

“Go where?” 

“Go out for our very first date.” 

All listening mouths fell open at the fall of a four-character vocabulary they fathomed not even a pact with the devil could pull out from his throat. 

That is, all mouths except for Raizel's lips. 

Frankenstein made a serene smile as he met Raizel in the eyes, a sign that he had made his choice. 

“I shall see you later, master.” 

As always, Raizel responded with a gracefully breezy smile. 

It did not take long for the rest of the audience to catch up with their atmosphere, curl the corners of their cheeks, and shower the two in celebration. 

“To be honest, I was wondering when you two will officiate it.” 

“Congratulations, Mr. Ex-Chairman.” 

<Please send Lunark my regards. And those of my heads of clans.> 

Not losing their focus on each other even a bit in the middle of the pleasant commotion, Lunark and Frankenstein jumped towards the streets. 

*****

“Look. They're talking about the Noblesse's ex-sanctuary, aren't they?” 

Lunark asked, her finger pointing a huge screen covering a facet of a building at the Gwanghwamun Square. 

Frankenstein nodded after reading the headline, of the breaking news that the international environmental facilities and institutions have selected the Bermudan Treasure Chest as a special protection site, to perform and engage in extensive protection. 

“Aren't you disappointed? You wanted to collect his power from that place.” 

She was alluding to the proposal he made on the day she revealed the secret behind the resurrections following the nuclear missile incident. 

The proposal on retrieving Raizel's power from his ex-sanctuary to replenish him was denied, due to the theory that taking away Raizel's power might lead to extinction of life at the place, since his power has already made itself a cradle, manna, and haven for the local marine creatures. 

“Humans are now working together to save that place. So one day, things will settle down. Let's tell ourselves things will settle down.” 

“At times like this, I feel perhaps humans are not hopelessly hopeless. Humans can be cannibalistic and destructive with their surroundings for the sake of their good, but on the other hand they know how to be altruistic and protective of the world. If I never knew you, I would have never known.” 

Frankenstein gasped a laughter at her bashful comment. 

“Now that's an honor. Speaking of which, I'd like to teach you more. For example, how human fare with their lives. How you can spend a daily life in the human world. What do you say?” 

“Great. Please do. Teach me how humans... How a couple share an ordinary day.” 

Lunark's words were confident, yet her face was blushing. 

Frankenstein held her hand, his mouth arched in a gentle smile. 

They knew they cannot make any promise on their future. 

Just like how they did not expect the breaking news of the day. 

They cannot tell what will be waiting for their discovery tomorrow. Or in an hour. 

Still, they promised themselves and each other that they will devote themselves to this day to the best of their abilities. 

They will hold their hands and be true to their love. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Frankenstein's and Lunark's hearts serenaded a duet of dazing flutter, as they walked into the crystal-clear sunlight illuminating their path to the ordinary life. 

And the day could not be sunnier. 

(Illustration by. RyO - you can find her DeviantArt page here)

I’m so sorry it took much longer for me to post this chapter. I was working on another series that I’m about to submit for a competition, and I had no idea it’s way past my usual posting time. I’m terribly sorry about the delay - what a way to wrap up the series. :’(

At last... My fanfic has reached its conclusion! I posted the first chapter of this fic on April of 2020, and it took me roughly a year and 4 months to finish it. And for the first time in years, I’m having a mixture of emotions cascading upon me as I write my final postscript, including but not limited to elation, bittersweetness, ruefulness, etc.

I made a lot of discoveries on what I lack as a writer throughout my journey with this fic. I had much more stories to include on my mind (most notably the relationship between Rael and Seira) but I had to delete them all from my outline for the sake of word count and constancy with the main topic of this fic. I might recollect them and write about them as a sequel to this fic, but right now I can’t think of any plot that I would find satisfying. And it would take a long time for me to land on a storyline that I would be confident in, enough for me to compose a fic with. And as the number of chapters grew, I ended up making mistakes regarding the details and plot. I remember how with chapter 68, I didn’t notice beforehand how I made several fatal mistakes that could compromise readers’ comprehension of the story, and I had to edit it for at least 3 times. Not to mention the story got kind of loose and lost its tempo over time. I happen to be working on a separate series (which has nothing to do with Noblesse) on a Korean website, and I’m having trouble with it due to the loose contents. This fic gave me an opportunity to look back on what I need to work on as a writer, and I will certainly do that. 

On the other hand, this fic did not leave me fruitless. I think I did a pretty good job and could gain a lot of experience on making story-wise allusions and references throughout chapters, to weave separate scenes together and thus bind 70 chapters into a wholesome series. Most importantly, I’m satisfied with how I could make use of and investigate my personal interpretations and creations on what was left after the final chapter of the original webtoon (such as the reason why those that were engaged in the nuclear missile incident could make it back to life, the faint-but-surely-there romance between Rai and Lascrea, the last of the Union after its destruction, and most of all the relationship between Lunark and Frankenstein).

In all, I gained a lot of regrets while writing this fic, but above all I am happy with my creation since I managed to write about everything I want in the exact way I wanted.

My tremendous gratitude for those of you who have been staying with me throughout this fic. It was not perfect, and it came with a lot of words to read, but I thank each and every one of you readers out there for visiting my fic. Although I happen to be busy with an independent project of mine, one day I’d like to bring another Noblesse fic for you, short or not.

Once again, thank you so much for enjoying my fic so far. Thank you, and that is all! :)

[shireness-says]

I have yearned for you (and I still do)

Summary: “There’s an irony, she thinks, to the situation they find themselves in now - he, the man who has it all together, and her, an increasingly hot mess.” Sometimes the things you need are right back where you started from. ~10.6k. Rated T for language. Also on Ao3. 

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: For @welllpthisishappening​, who doesn’t want to talk about the revival, and @snidgetsafan​, who does. Behold: my pining-type thoughts! Thanks for your patience and encouragement as I stressed over this instead of working on my WIPs. 

Post-revival, if that’s an issue for anyone. Title from a Frank Turner song yet again, because that’s how I roll. Extra thanks to L for her beta skills.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jess is the one who comes up with her name. In retrospect, that was probably a sign.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. From the moment the sonogram tech had announced congrats, it’s a girl , it had kind of been a done deal that she would be another Lorelai. Something something tradition. But with the reigning Lorelai still alive and well and so obviously having dibs on the full name, it’d been obvious that some sort of nickname was going to come into play. 

There’d been a suggestion box in the diner after no small amount of twisting Luke’s arm, suggestions of how the heck they were supposed to shorten Lorelai, and then a follow-up poll of the options Rory had actually liked (because she was not calling the kid “Loreo, like Oreo!”, thank you, Cesar). It’d been nice, actually, and a good way to channel the collective energy of the denizens of Stars Hollow without being stopped on the street every three minutes when her feet already hurt like hell. 

Anyways. In the polling, “Elle” had won, and Rory had actually really liked it. Something the kiddo had a chance to grow into - feminine, delicate yet strong, a name that would fit a little girl or a grown adult. And, c’mon - in the Gilmore household, they’ve always liked Legally Blonde anyways. There’s worse role models than Reese Witherspoon being unapologetically herself. 

But. 

The thing is, as much as Rory had though it was cute back when the kid was an unrealized idea, just a little mooch taking her energy and appetite for normal things, it’s a very different thing to hold her baby for the first time - her tiny girl, here and screaming and with wisps of the softest blonde hair. And she just can’t do it. It feels too on the nose, to call this little blonde baby Elle - like she’s about to doom this tiny person to a lifetime of not being taken seriously. She deserves better than that. 

She doesn’t go nameless; it’s easy to fill out the birth certificate Lorelai Richard Gilmore , even if the nurse casts a funny look at the choice of middle name. She’s never been a staunch traditionalist anyways, and Rory had wanted to honor her grandfather regardless if the baby had been a boy or a girl. He would have loved having a great-granddaughter to spoil in the way he and Grandma had been denied when she was a baby - and besides, even if Emily shakes her head about the unconventional choice, it makes her smile fondly too. 

Still - there’s a difference between what someone is named and what someone is called, and the latter for the youngest Lorelai is still a great big question mark. Rory runs back through the list of runners up, but nothing fits .

“I was supposed to have this figured out by now,” she whines to Jess when he drops by to visit and meet the baby. He’s been a huge help as she tries to write her book, and after years of awkward “what the hell even are we”, Rory feels like they’re finally back in a good place, back to being friends. She likes being friends, like him being one of her people again, even if the 2nd trimester horniness and wanting to jump his bones never really went away. But she’s not really in a place to think about that right now. “Aren’t I supposed to be able to just, like, look at her and know what her destined name is supposed to be?”

“Yes, because motherhood automatically grants mystical powers,” he replies wryly. “I think that whole thing is a myth, Gilmore.”

He looks good holding a baby - surprisingly comfortable too. It makes her realize, not for the first time, that he built himself a whole life she doesn’t know about while she ran around the world, trying to figure out what would make her happy - a life with a business and a purpose and probably friends with kids. Not at all the boy she met more than a decade ago. 

(It is something she tries not to focus too much on, for fear of where it might lead - to the realization that she may not really know him at all, or more dangerously, the realization that she wants to.)

“Ivy,” he says out of nowhere. “You should call her Ivy.”

“Ivy?” It hadn’t been one of the names any suggested before, but in a weird way, it fits. Something soft and strong and neutral, a name that could become anything. A name she can make her own.

“Yeah. I mean, she’s Lorelai the fourth, right? Lorelai the fourth. Lorelai I-V. Ivy.”

And it’s - well, the name is so right, but the logic behind it is so Jess. Because he’s always been clever like that - not even aware that there’s a box he’s thinking outside of. She likes, too, that now that he’s made the suggestion, he doesn’t try to backtrack or explain anything away, try to tell her she doesn’t have to listen. He knows she knows that. Jess has never been one to fill a silence just because it exists.

“I like that,” she finally says. “Ivy Gilmore.”

“Then congratulations - it’s a name.”

———

Telling Logan had been hard - harder than making herself take the test, harder than telling her mom. Because they’re not an item anymore, you know? They’ve gone their separate ways, ended whatever dynamic they’ve had going the last couple of years, and under normal circumstances, it would be easier to keep her distance. No contact, end it all firmly and definitively and for good .

A baby complicates that, and throws that possibility straight out the window.

She can’t really say she’s disappointed in Logan’s response, not when it plays out pretty much exactly the way Rory assumed it would. Nothing changes; they don’t get back together, and he doesn’t leave the French heiress. Rory isn’t certain she’d want either of those things anyways. He’d offered to support her in whatever decision she made, and that was more or less it. He’s never been great with emotions, and having a kid doesn’t show signs of changing that. 

(Rory hadn’t expected him to be a hands-on partner in this - not even remotely - but it still aches, knowing this is the beginning of what will be a pattern in their child’s life.)

Now, all these months later, Rory texts him a picture from the hospital once the parade of visitors has gone home. Even in the midst of that disappointment, he deserves to know.

Lorelai Richard Gilmore IV. 7 lbs, 2 oz. We’re calling her Ivy.

His reply comes through a half hour later. Congrats, Ace - she’s beautiful, just like her mother. 

(She’ll never admit it later - but when she receives his response, it takes everything in her not to cry.) 

———

It’s nerve-wracking, bringing Ivy home from the hospital and back to her mom’s house - like Rory shouldn’t be trusted to leave with such precious cargo. The hospital had been safe , and the big wide world out there feels full of dangers as she carefully steps out into the June sunshine, the baby carrier in hand. It’s this moment, of all times, that makes Rory feel like a parent for the first time - like it’s her sole job to protect and nurture this tiny person that she made.

Lorelai and Luke’s is just a temporary stopping place, just until Rory can get her feet beneath her in this whole motherhood thing. It’s terrifying, knowing that she’ll have to be doing this on her own soon enough. She’s taken the classes and read countless books and websites, but it’s a very different thing once you’re handed a tiny, wrinkly baby and are expected to figure it out. 

“How did you do it?” she asks her mom that first night, sitting in the kitchen together while Ivy nurses and Luke’s asleep upstairs. “I mean, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I’m in my thirties. You were sixteen .”

“I did it because I had to, babe,” her mom replies, reaching across the table to tuck a lock of hair back behind Rory’s ear. “I knew I wanted to give you the best life I could, so… I had to figure it out. Looking back now, Mom and Dad would have helped, and they tried, but I didn’t want that. I mean, we’re okay-ish now, but I didn’t want you growing up under the same pressure I did. So I went out and figured it out because I had to. You were the making of me, kiddo. And I’ll tell you now - that kid’s going to change you in ways you can’t even imagine now. And it’ll all be worth it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I look at you every day, and I’m so proud - and I made that. Pretty cool, huh? And each day as she gets older, you’re going to get to do that too. You’ll figure this out. I know you will. You’re going to be a great mom.”

By the time Lorelai is done, Rory feels tears trying to form in her eyes. Something something hormones. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime, hon.”

———

She’s living in Luke’s old apartment above the diner. It’s the illusion of independence - it doesn’t feel like she’s living with her mother any more, especially now that she’s got a kid of her own, but she’s not paying rent either (no matter how much she had offered). The truth of the matter is that, except for Ivy’s things, she’s living out of boxes. There hadn’t been any sense to staying in New York, not when her income stream is so up in the air; besides, as much as Rory had loved the city for herself, she isn’t sure she’d want to raise her daughter there. Stars Hollow may be a bit loony, like a place out of a YA coming-of-age novel, but there’d been love in every single corner. She’d wanted that for Ivy, even when she was just two lines on a test stick - to grow up with this whole zany extended family. Rory’s own blood family is tiny, and even if Logan was eager to be involved, his isn’t much bigger; Ivy can use all the proto-aunts and -uncles and -grandparents she can gather. 

(Rory does feel some guilt on the rent front, but Luke wouldn’t hear of it. He’d waved it off in that grumpy way of his, some excuse about being too old to have a crying infant disturbing their sleep in the Queen Anne where Rory had grown up, but she remembers the way Luke had once called her a little bit his . This is his way of quietly looking after his grown almost-daughter - and looking at it like that, there’s no way she’d turn down the offer.)

(She knows for certain it’s all an excuse after Ivy is born, when Luke turns into every inch the doting grandfather, bouncing and cooing at the baby every time she expresses even the mildest displeasure. Too old for crying infants , her ass.)

The apartment is the same as ever, from the block letters on the door to the dark wood furniture inside. Honestly, it looks like the only thing Luke has updated in the past decade was replacing the refrigerator, and Rory doubts that was just on a whim. There’s a comfort to that same-ness - of knowing that some things never change, and don’t have to. She has so many memories up here, especially from that period when she and Jess had been dating. The blankets on the spare bed are different now - lavender and spring green for April, instead of the bachelor plaids Luke had scrounged up when Jess had moved in - but the couch is the same, and the kitchen table where they’d pretended to study, and the tiny closet of a bathroom where she’d try desperately to straighten her hair before heading home. A simpler time, in some ways - but a more complicated one too. Rory had been the town princess then, the perennial good girl , and for all of his brains and sarcastic charm, Jess had been a mess in many ways. Now, things are a bit more grey - where Rory doesn’t quite have her act together, and Jess is the one with a life and a career and a calling. She’s proud of him in so many ways, but it leaves her feeling off balance, and as much of that is about her own adrift state, there’s no denying that part of it is about this unexpected reversal. So much will never change in Stars Hollow - but somehow, this has. 

———

Logan finally comes stateside, to Stars Hollow, when Ivy is a little over five weeks old. 

They meet at the Dragonfly, because it seems the most neutral spot. Lorelai may have capital-o Opinions, but she’ll keep them to herself if Rory asks, and it’s still better than pulling him through the diner up to the apartment, where overprotective townies will glare and Kirk might try to challenge him to a duel for her honor or something. No one ever knows with Kirk. 

Logan meeting Ivy is… he makes all the right moves in the moment, you know? He smiles and bounces her and looks at her like some sort of precious mystery. But Rory can see too, already, from years of experience, that he’s got the makings of another Christopher. As much as she knows that he’ll love the kid they made, and do his best to take care of her, he’s not ready, and Rory can’t force him to be. Even in his thirties, Logan has a lot of growing up to do. 

“I went ahead and set up a fund for her college,” he makes sure to say before he departs, flying out of Boston that very afternoon to take care of some business in LA, “but you’ll let me know if she needs anything, right Ace? Or if you do?”

“I promise. Scout’s honor, cross my heart.”

“She really is beautiful, Rory. Thanks for this - letting me be a part of it.”

And then, before she knows it, he’s gone.

(She’ll never regret the times they were together, not when it brought her their daughter, but Ivy has made it all too obvious why they never would have lasted. Rory has long since stopped wondering what things would have been like if she had said yes, all those years ago when Logan had proposed. This is proof enough - a life spent hoping for something he’s not willing or able to give, and watching him climb onto an airplane over and over again.)

(In some moments, Rory almost thinks Logan’s absence is for the best when she remembers the utter horror that is his family - the way his mother doesn’t care about anything but her creature comforts, and Mitchum doesn’t care about anything but himself and his impossible standards. Rory may feel guilty about it, but sometimes, she’s relieved that Logan’s absence means that Ivy will never have to face their condescension the way Rory had to with Straub and Francine. It is a small blessing to be found in the tragedy that she’s afraid Logan’s involvement, and lack thereof, will turn into.)

When Jess comes by later to talk about the book and probably watch a movie, he finds her crying in the kitchen, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Ivy. He pulls her into his arms seemingly without a second thought, and Rory lets herself melt into the hug, just for the moment. 

“It’s leftover hormones,” she tries to excuse, but they both know better. They’re both products of absentee fathers, after all, both know the ways that can shape a child. Jess knows full well what happened today; it’s probably why he’s here tonight, to pull her from the worst of her self pity. They both know her tears aren’t for herself, for the death of a relationship that’s long since ended; they’re for Ivy, and a relationship that maybe won’t start. 

“She won’t be alone,” he makes sure to tell her once Rory’s calmed down enough to be rational. “I mean, even beyond you and your mom and Emily, there’s Luke and Lane’s husband and a whole host of other guys who can step up. Hell, Kirk in all his weird glory has probably got some qualification to adopt her. And you know I’ll be here, as long as you want me to be.”

“Yeah?” Rory’s throat is still clogged, but she’ll take it as a win that she didn’t sniffle. It’s too significant a moment to mar that way. 

“What can I say, she’s cute enough to hold my attention.”

“You always were a sucker for a Gilmore,” she laughs, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, well, someone’s got to make sure you’re aware vegetables exist.”

And just like that, even as Rory’s tears are still dissipating, the mood is lifted into safer territory. That’s Jess, though, isn’t it? All that emotion, hidden behind a front of sarcasm. After all of the mistakes of his youth, he’s grown into a man people can count on; he’s proved that these last couple years, as Rory has found herself floundering.

They’ll be lucky to have him in their lives.

———

After that last night on the town with Logan and his friends, Rory expected to never see any of the members of the Life and Death Brigade again. They’ve had their fun together, over the years; Rory will certainly never forget all the crazy shenanigans they all got up to together. But as much as she’s enjoyed their time together, those have always been more Logan’s friends than her own. 

It comes as a surprise, then, when all of them - Finn and Colin and Robert, the three musketeers or three amigos - all make a point to call and text and, eventually, drop by. They’re a little fascinated by the baby, this sudden proof that someone in their sphere really has grown up. As nervous as it makes her at first, to let these crazy, careless men sit in the diner and take a turn carefully holding Ivy, it’s cute and funny to see the way they handle her like some kind of unknown, volatile science experiment. 

It’s funny, really, how differently they all react to the various daddy issues in their life. With Logan, it’s made him eager to live up to Mitchum’s impossible standards, no matter how much he tries to claim otherwise. With the rest of the Brigade, it’s somehow had the opposite effect. They all run away from responsibility whenever it gets too close, and Rory isn’t remotely in denial about that, but they’re somehow desperate to love and be loved, too, all of them. They’ll never be the guys she calls for babysitting, not if she wants Ivy back in one piece, but Rory thinks they could be the fun uncles instead - not a constant presence in Ivy’s life, but the kind of figures who will send a dozen roses and maybe a singing telegram to a kindergarten graduation or gift an impractical car for her sixteenth birthday.

(And in the empty space Logan seems determined to leave - Rory will take whatever she can get.)

———

Jess has been around a lot more than Rory anticipated, really. It’s not that he’s stayed away from Stars Hollow in past years; his life may be based in Philadelphia now, what with Truncheon and all, but she knows he’s made a point to drive up a couple of times a year to see Luke and Liz and his little sister, Doula. Since Rory’s come back to town, though, he seems to be around at least once a month - checking in, offering support with the book or anything else, and generally being a friend. It’s not something Rory’s particularly inclined to question, happy just to have him back in her life, but it doesn’t go unnoticed, either. 

“He’s been around a lot,” Luke comments pointedly. “Know anything about that?”

“He’s helping with the book,” Rory explains wearily. It’s an explanation she’s made a lot of times, to a lot of people, though she never figured Luke - level-headed Luke, who usually runs from gossip and emotions like an Olympic sprinter - would be one of them. 

“Whatever you say, Rory.”

Only the delivery of her burger had stopped a full-blown debate - something Luke had likely known. You don’t live with a Gilmore Girl for a decade without picking up a few tricks. 

(She’s trying not to read too much into it - the way he keeps showing up to sit in an empty desk at the Gazette office and listen to her talk until she works out her own writing blocks - but others apparently don’t have that same compunction. Then again, Luke has never been called subtle .)

By the time Ivy is born, Rory thinks the book is maybe two-thirds of the way done, thanks in large part to Jess’ encouragement. At least halfway, for sure. It’s a different kind of writing than she’s used to, after years of news articles and five-page magazine spreads, but it’s the good kind of challenge. There are days the words just flow out of her, memory mixing with prose to create something wonderful, and there are days she stumbles more. The personal nature of the project accounts for most of her hold-ups. Rory knows what makes for a good story, what will best illustrate the points she’s trying to get across, but it’s about her , and her mom, and all the other people in this crazy town that she loves. There’s not the same distance that she might find if she was writing about post-apocalyptic teens, or whatever other kind of fiction is in vogue these days. 

“Why did I decide to do this?” Rory groans, sitting on the couch in the apartment with Jess and her laptop, watching as Ivy pedals her arms and legs on her playmat on the floor. “Why did you talk me into writing this? This is your fault, you know.”

“Yes, I’m an evil genius forcing you to write a book. Absolute cruelty,” he snarks back. “Talk to me again tomorrow or next week when you figure out what needs to change for your current hurdle to make sense.”

“Why do you have to be the voice of reason?”

Jess’ face is unusually earnest when he turns to look at her - or as least as earnest as Jess ever gets. “Because I know you can do this, Rory. You might be the most determined person I know - if you want to write a book, it’s going to happen. I’m just here to listen to you whine until you’re ready to get back to the grindstone.”

“An invaluable service, really.”

“Damn straight. I’m an expert in that field.”

And he’s right - because a few days later, Rory busts through her block and gets back to flying through sentences and paragraphs. 

(She’d tell him what that kind of encouragement does for her - but then again, he probably already knows.)

———

Rory doesn’t have a regular job, per se, at least not right now; Ivy takes up so much of her time, and in between she’s desperately trying to put her book down on paper. She’s still the editor and primary contributor of the Stars Hollow Gazette, but it’s hard to call that steady work. There’s not enough going on in this little town for that, and most months accounts of the latest town meetings and whatever festival or fundraiser is being held in their little hamlet take up the sparse pages. It’s work that lets her feel like she’s accomplishing something - but in any other circumstance, one where she’s not simultaneously taking care of an infant, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to do, with the skimpy compensation to match.

It’s a shock when she gets a call out of the blue from Headmaster Charleston, asking if she’d like to come back to Chilton to head up a weekly journalism class. Privately, Rory suspects her grandmother of meddling; even if she now lives in Nantucket, content to build a new life and new purpose, Emily’s years of networking and most of her connections still stand, and she’s still not above pulling on those strings for what she believes is the benefit of all. It’s all too easy to accept the offer when she’s not in much of a position to say no. There’s the argument, too, that maybe this will help Rory figure out what she wants to do; perhaps teaching is her real calling.

(Somehow, Rory doubts that.)

As much as she loves Ivy, marvels at all the little changes and developments that come so quickly in these early months, it’s nice to have a standing appointment every Wednesday to get out of the apartment and out of Stars Hollow and put on real pants for a change. Chilton is the same as ever, all tall gothic arches and meticulously pruned shrubs, but somehow it seems less intimidating than it did when she was a student. Not smaller, like all the high school reunion cliches, but less… weighty. It’s no longer some mountain she has to climb like it was back when she was a teenager; it can be just a building and a repository for her memories. 

Rory finds that she likes teaching the class, actually, even if she can’t see herself making a career out of it. It’s nice to keep this just as a side gig, coming to campus once a week, only committed to teaching the one ninety minute class. She knows for certain that she’d go insane if she was committed to teaching three or four periods every day of the week, but this? This is sharing her knowledge and her passion with a small group of students who want to be here, who signed up for this elective on purpose. It’s like revisiting her own time as a student - covering the evolution of the profession and talkabout all the things she wished she knew when she first started at the Yale Daily News. With only one class, too, she doesn’t feel bad about seeking out one of the coffee shops she used to go to, back when she went to Chilton, in order to grade homework without distractions before she has to pick Ivy up from her mom at the Dragonfly.

It’s not her calling - but it’s a nice distraction. 

———

Most afternoons, Rory camps out at one of the tables by the bay window down in the diner with her laptop and tries to write. Tries is the operative word, of course; this is a social town, and not to be too vain, but she’s a popular lady. It’s still easier to take the baby monitor downstairs while Ivy’s napping, as the open floorplan of the apartment makes it difficult to do anything without waking the baby. 

(Yeah, she knows she’s supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps and all that - but clearly, whoever came up with that catchphrase wasn’t trying to write a novel at the same time.)

Today, a quiet Tuesday afternoon at the end of the lunch rush, her distraction has nothing to do with catty townsfolk. Today, Luke roped the visiting Jess into filling in for the usual waitress, and the sight is… something to behold. Jess has filled out since they first met, no longer the skinny, lanky kid she knew in high school; that much has been obvious for the last several years. But there’s something about the rolled up sleeves today, the way his arms keep flexing as he delivers and clears plates, that leaves Rory unable to look away. 

“When did you get built , Mariano?” she teases as he comes around with another coffee refill - still decaf, much to her chagrin, but what are you going to do.

Jess slides into the chair across from her, snagging his own mug off of an empty set table to pour his own cup of the brew. With an exaggerated glance down at his own arm, he shrugs. “Dunno. Took up boxing a couple years ago. Why, you see something you like, Gilmore?” he finishes with that cocky little smirk that’s always made her all fluttery. Some things really haven’t changed over the years. 

“What can I say, I’m a red-blooded American female.” After a moment, the first part of his response catches up to her tired brain. “Wait, you said boxing? Like - ”

Jess groans. “Do not make a Rocky joke, Rory, I swear to God - ”

“I’m just saying, you live in Philadelphia! Maybe you’ve gone native! I mean, I would have pegged you for obnoxious cheesesteak opinions instead of this, but to each his own - ”

“This is not some weird ‘gone native’ thing,” he scoffs. It’s evident he knows she’s teasing him, though, in the way the side of his mouth struggles not to quirk up. It’s nice, reminiscent of the banter they used to toss back and forth. “This is… it’s good exercise, ok? And a much better outlet for my frustrations than whatever self-destructive spirals I used to get into.”

Rory gapes, struck speechless for a rare moment. “Jess Mariano, did you go to therapy ?” 

A little bit of color flushes on his neck, but he otherwise keeps his composure. It’s not that she has anything against him going to therapy - frankly, they’re both prime candidates for a doctor’s couch, regardless of whether they want to admit it. It’s just surprising, somehow, to hear that Jess of all people is seeing someone, talking things out. Good for him, honestly - for the therapy and for being open about it. It’s another sign of how far he’s come since they were still those idiot teenagers. “Heard it was the trendy thing to do these days.”

“And you’re nothing if not a hip lemming, always following the crowd.”

“Yes, that is the one thing that people have always said about me. I’m such a follower.”

Somehow, she can’t help but grin at this, the way they sass each other back and forth. So often these past months, since Ivy was born, Rory has felt too tired to keep up with her usual self, to dish things out with the speed and array of references that she’s used to. It’s a relief to reclaim that, even just for a moment.

Before the moment can blossom any further, Babette waves Jess down from across the diner for her own refill. “Try not to get distracted by the gun show, alright, Rory?” he jabs as he stands up in his dry, teasing voice. “That book won’t write itself.”

(And if she sneaks another handful of glances before she hears Ivy start to fuss on the baby monitor - well, he’s good enough not to mention it.)

———

In a weird way, having Ivy brings Rory’s friendship with Lane into perspective.

Rory doesn’t remember a lot of the first year of Lane’s twins’ lives; the fact of the matter is that she hadn’t been around to make those memories. She only realizes now just how much Lane was on her own - Rory had been off following the Obama campaign, and Zach had been on tour for months at Lane’s insistence. Some days Rory feels like she can barely keep her head above water, and she’s only got the one baby to contend with; it’s a miracle Lane didn’t snap while having to care for two on her own. 

“I really admire you, you know,” Rory tells Lane during a lunch date at the antique shop while Kwan and Steve are at school. Lane sits across the table, same as it ever was, happily making faces at Ivy in her arms. 

“How’s that?” Lane asks.

“Because… I don’t know, I feel like I’m losing myself in the mom-ness of it all some days. I don’t get how you made it through that first year without Zach here most of the time and still stayed… Lane .”

“I mean, I wasn’t fully alone,” Lane points out. “I had my parents. Mom especially. Having her help with the boys really finally healed that relationship, which I’m not sure would have happened otherwise.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But, I mean, you’ve still got the band and you still keep up with all these up and coming music acts and - I don’t know. Maybe this is just baby brain, but I have trouble thinking about all the things I’d normally like to do. Seeing movies and new TV shows and whatever else. It’s like… all the Rory bits of my brain are just being taken over by Ivy bits.”

“It gets better in time,” Lane assures her, shifting Ivy to cover Rory’s hand on the table next to the rice cakes neither have touched. “She’ll get older and more independent, and you’ll have time again to be Rory. Besides, you’re not alone either,” she adds. “Not only do you have your mom and Luke and a whole town of affectionate maniacs, but you’ve got me. You can drop this cutie with me, her godmother, anytime you need a break.”

“Didn’t you reject religion years ago?”

“That’s a good point - but also, I’ve decided it’s not relevant right now.”

———

Motherhood, as a whole, is rewarding. There’s something magical about the way Ivy looks at her and looks like her, something earth shattering about the kind of trust she exhibits every time she smiles or reaches for Rory. It’s purpose, in a way that Rory was never entirely sure that she wanted; now, like every cliche ever written, she can’t imagine life any other way. 

For all of the magical moments, though, there are moments like this - hours and days where Ivy won’t stop crying, refusing to be soothed no matter how long she’s held or how much she’s bounced and swayed. It feels like Rory’s tried everything - the changing, the feeding, the singing, the music, the lighter clothes. Everything. None of it works, not even for a moment, and Rory’s at her wit’s end, practically in tears herself as she bounces around the apartment with her tiny banshee in her arms. 

“Please stop crying, baby,” she pleads, stroking the wisps of reddish fluff at the top of Ivy’s small head. The blonde hair had fallen out at six weeks, much to Rory’s guilty relief, and was growing back in a shade reminiscent of Emily’s natural shade. Not that she can focus on it right now. “I’ll do anything , baby, just… I don’t know what you want. What do you want ?”

Ivy doesn’t answer though, too young for anything but these screams. The never ending screams. The screams that leave Rory feeling more desperate, more on-edge than ever in her life. 

It’s not a great time for someone to knock at the apartment door; frankly, it’s probably a miracle that Rory even hears it. Under more normal circumstances, she might care that Jess sees her like this when she opens the door - unshowered, exhausted, barely holding it together - but she’s reached a point where she’s incapable of caring about anything but stopping the crying. 

“Were we supposed to meet?” she asks, tears rising to the surface as the very prospect proves just one too many things to handle. “I’m so sorry, Ivy’s been fussy all week, I completely forgot - ”

“No, I know,” Jess interrupts. “We didn’t have plans, Luke mentioned you were having a rough week. I figured I’d come up, give you a bit of a break.”

It doesn’t help. “I’m - it’s ok, I can handle this. You think I can’t handle this?” The words come out more frantically than she would have liked, but she’s not thinking straight anymore, and Ivy’s still crying —

“You know I don’t think that, Rory,” he says, in as much as a soothing voice as Jess can muster. He’s never been much for displays of emotion. “I just want to help. Let me take the howler monkey for a couple hours. You can have a shower, get a nap, come back thinking clearer. Alright?”

Her pride demands she say no - to not ask for help. It’s a streak so reminiscent of her own mother. But she’s so tired, and her ears will be ringing from the cries and screams for ages to come, and it’s too tempting an offer to deny. Resignedly, she nods, handing over the baby. “Ok. Yeah, ok, thank you. Let me get you the baby bag, and the carrier, and - ”

“Nope,” Jess interrupts, already starting a half-conscious bounce to try and settle Ivy and waving off all of Rory’s attempts at protest. “Look, I spent a lot of time here way back when, helping Doula make it to her first birthday. I know the drill. You’re veering towards Liz-level crazed, so go take a moment for yourself before it becomes permanent, alright?”

Somehow, Rory finds herself nodding, though she can’t help but try and reclaim a bit of the banter - or a bit of normality, more like. “You can’t really call her a howler monkey, though. She’s not howling yet.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know that screaming monkeys are a thing, so we’ll make do. And the operative term is yet .”

As much as it hurts to admit, he’s right - after a shower and a couple hours’ nap, Rory feels… not quite like a new woman, but at least prepared to enter the fray for another round. Lately, that’s enough of a win. When she wanders back downstairs, Jess sits outside on a park bench with Ivy shaded in her carrier from the worst of the summer sun. His foot absentmindedly rocks the carrier back and forth periodically as he reads a well-worn paperback whose cover she can’t make out. 

He looks up as soon as the bell on the diner door jingles, putting the book aside when he sees Rory stepping down. Blessedly, Ivy’s cries have ceased for the moment. “Don’t get too excited,” Jess cautions her. “Think she just cried herself out for the moment. I’m not remotely confident she won’t start again once she wakes up.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” Rory gladly collapses onto the bench beside him, caving to the urge to lean into his body and rest her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for this. I clearly needed it.”

Jess just hums in response at first. They sit in silence for several minutes, just soaking in the day and watching preparations for whatever the carnival of the month might be in the town square, before he finally uses his words. “That’s not your fault, you know,” he assures her. “Babies are just like that. They go through spurts where it’s all crying all the time. You know that, from Lane’s and Paris’ kids.”

“I know,” Rory sighs. “I just didn’t realize how… helpless I’d feel. All the sleep deprivation and parental instinct and everything combining into straight up panic. I just felt like it was something I had to figure out, you know? I mean, this probably isn’t the last time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do it on your own. Call your mom, or Lane, or Luke, see if they’ll give you a hand for a couple of hours. Hell, give me a call, I’ll drive up if I have to. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I know.” The moment sits between them as Rory processes. He’s right, of course; so often these past years, he’s been the voice of reason when she needs it most. “Thanks, Jess.”

“Not a big deal.”

Rory finally finds the light way out of this, and she takes it. “So, did Miss Patty or Babette happen to see you during your babysitting adventure?”

He groans. “Put it this way: we both should brace for some real creative comments in the next few weeks, and I for one plan to make myself scarce.”

———

She thinks about her grandfather a lot.

Richard had been such a steady figure in her life since the age of 15; for all of the heart and health problems he'd had in that time, he’d always seem invincible. Timeline - like he’d always been there, and would always be there. His death had been a shock, no matter how much it shouldn’t have been. Grandpa had believed in her so strongly too, that she could do anything she set her mind to. Of course, Rory thinks he probably never would have guessed she’d wind up here, after a life with everything so carefully planned.

“What do you think Grandpa would have thought of this?” she asks her grandmother during a more vulnerable moment. Emily’s Nantucket cottage isn’t even remotely as grand as the Hartford house had been, but there’s something more homey about it, and there’s still plenty of room for Rory and Ivy to come stay a few days over the October break. The sea breeze and change of scenery has sparked words in a way Rory hadn’t anticipated, but fully intends to take advantage of, and Emily loves the chance to spend time with her great-granddaughter, even if the ‘great’ makes her nose scrunch up in a very particular way. It aches a little for Rory to watch, knowing her grandmother probably wanted this back when Rory was a baby; then again, knowing the way Emily had wanted to raise Lorelai in their upper crust image, and gladly offered some of those same trappings to Rory, maybe this is for the best. Richard’s death has fractured Emily, but it’s softened her too, as much as that’s possible for Emily - made her loosen up, live in the moment more and worry about appearances less. 

(Emily has offered, more than once and in a way veering towards insistence, to host Rory and Ivy here at the cottage for as long as they liked, but Rory keeps finding ways to turn her down. As much as she understands and accepts Emily’s desire to be involved in her great-granddaughter’s young life in a way she couldn’t be involved in Rory’s for so long, Rory understands, too, all the reasons why Lorelai set out on her own in the first place. She doesn’t quite understand where she’s going right now, but Rory knows that’s something she’ll have to figure out for herself. Emily, for better or for worse, wants the best for those she loves, and has always believed the best is a mirror image of the life she leads. That life now is different in so many ways from the one she was living before Richard died, but the urge is still there - and Rory isn’t sure she’s ready to spend her life in Nantucket, talking about whales. No, for now, a series of short visits is much better.)

“What do you mean?” Emily asks absently, comparing the look of two vases on a sideboard that look entirely identical to Rory. 

“I mean, this probably isn’t where he saw me going. I can’t imagine what he’d think about me writing a book about the way I grew up. I just… do you think he’d be proud of me?”

Her grandmother sets both vases down with a gentleness that is contradictory to the way she crosses to Rory with determination in every movement. “Rory,” she says, placing her hands on Rory’s sweatshirt-clad shoulders, “your grandfather was always proud of you. Always . Even if we didn’t imagine this would be the path you’d take, I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make him anything less than proud, and delighted you were his granddaughter.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. And I feel the same way.” With a last squeeze to Rory’s shoulders, Emily lets go and crosses back to her decorating with a smile. “Of course, after those years teaching, he would have edited your manuscript with a colored pen in hand. I’ll do you the favor of declining that form of editing.”

Rory laughs, knowing her grandmother is right; Richard had loved teaching those econ classes, and had taken to it like a duck to water. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. “I like remembering him like that,” she admits. “Excited to learn and share. I loved having those moments with him.”

Emily smiles fondly, sadly. They’re all slowly learning how to live in a world without him. “I did too.”

———

I want to drink in a bar. My kitchen feels depressing , the text from Paris demands. Let me know your schedule.

(She’s never been much for requests.)

Tact and lack thereof aside, it’s good to see Paris; Rory is more-or-less glad to consider her old schoolmate one of her best friends, inexplicably, but they’ve always both been too busy to really keep up with anything more than the occasional text, conversations often winding up spaced out over the course of several days as both get pulled in every-which direction. Even if Rory doesn’t have the same work demands now, Paris definitely still does. While she’d been an invaluable resource while Rory was pregnant, insisting on providing her with the names of the best doctors out there, they’ve both been too busy with their own lives for more than the occasional call since. This is well overdue - especially with Paris’ kids with Doyle for the week and Ivy at Lorelai’s for the night.

They go out to New Haven and hit the bars around Yale in what is probably some kind of misguided attempt to reclaim their youth. It’s been ten years; they’re obviously not students anymore. But it’s fun to sit in a grimy bar for the night and pretend they’re not thinking about all the terrible terrible substances that have been spilled on every surface. 

They try to keep conversation light, to talk about books Rory’s read lately and Paris’ latest crazy client and all the little milestones their children are hitting. Albums they want to listen to and movies they want to see. Paris’ lengthy opinions about the bars near her in New York. All the little nothings that somehow form a lasting friendship. Maybe it’s the venue, though, or maybe it’s just an inevitability, but somehow they find themselves talking men over a third drink like they’re 22 again.

“I miss Doyle,” Paris confesses. “I miss my Doyle, not this cool screenwriting asshole he wants to turn into. He was a neurotic bastard, but he was my neurotic bastard, you know?”

“That’s the best description of Doyle I’ve heard in years,” Rory replies, examining her drink. It’s a garish blue - something that had seemed fun half a glass ago, but just seems questionable now. “So what, then - you guys going to get back together?”

“I don’t know. I mean, obviously I can’t bring that up. He’s the one who changed and suggested the stupid separation, he’s gotta be the one to fix it.”

(Rory isn’t entirely sure that’s how it works, but she knows better than to get into it with Paris when she’s stubborn about something.)

“What about you, though?” she continues, flagging down the bartender for a refill of her cosmo. “You aren’t still going to try and mend things with Logan, are you?”

“God no. I mean, obviously there’s love there, or there was, but that’s over. He’s not really… ready for all of this. Growing up in a way that doesn’t mean just following in his father’s footsteps.”

“I never really liked him, you know.”

Rory snorts. “Bullshit. You loved the banter.”

Paris toasts a concession. “Fine. But I never liked him after the bridesmaids debacle.”

“Fair enough.”

Rory thinks that’s it, as Paris reaches for the nachos on their appetizer platter. Well, not quite an appetizer platter; they’d just ordered all the finger food that was available and let it take up most of the table. Paris is full of surprises, though. “What about Jess?”

Rory tries not to accidentally inhale an ice cube. “What about Jess?”

“I mean, he’s been around, right? And looking hotter than ever.”

“Oh my god , Paris.”

“What? I’m just saying. No one would blame you. Or, you know, be surprised about you getting back together with your high school love who just happens to be an author. That’s better than any shitty script Doyle could come up with, even if it is a bit trite. I mean, he’s there all the time. And he’s still got that hair, right?”

“It is good hair,” Rory admits. Probably a sign she needs to switch to water. “Can we drop this, please? Nothing is going to happen.”

“If you say so, Gilmore.”

( Did you know that Paris has a thing for your hair? she texts after the fourth drink - in hot pink this time. 

What can I say, she’s a woman of taste , he responds.)

(And if Paris shoots her a smug look from the bar - well, she’d drunk texted Doyle too, so she has no room to judge.)

———

Some nights, they do nothing more than sit in the darkened diner with leftover pie and a coffee or beer, chatting the night away. It feels like old times, back when they were just a couple of idiots. It’s nice to pretend for a couple hours that they’re still those teenagers, and not a single mom still trying to figure out where she’s going and an acclaimed author ignoring his next deadline. There’s an irony, she thinks, to the situation they find themselves in now - he, the man who has it all together, and her, an increasingly hot mess. It’s not how anyone would have expected they’d end up. 

She mentions it to him one night, only for Jess to snort in amusement. “Ok, you are not a hot mess,” he tells her. “Not even close.”

“You sure about that? Because it sure feels like my life is a disaster most days.”

“I’ve seen hot mess Rory,” he tells her. “This isn’t it. You go big or go home. Last time you descended to a genuine hot mess, you stole a fucking yacht .”

“It wasn’t a yacht, it was a boat,” Rory mumbles in protest, even as she smiles behind her mug of decaf. 

“It was a yacht, and you know it. You stole it from a marina that wouldn’t accept anything as mundane as a boat . I can break out the dictionary if you want, but you know I’m right. My point is ,” he plows ahead before she can interrupt, “you are not nearly the disaster you think you are right now. This is just… a stumbling block. You’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll have to,” Rory replies with a sly grin. “No yachts to steal in Stars Hollow.”

(As much as she may laugh it off, and he may let her, it strikes Rory’s heart in some particular way to hear the confidence Jess has in her, the way he’s so quick to assure her that she’s not entirely off track and adrift - that this is just a detour. There’s something different about hearing it from him, and not from her mother or grandmother. Jess always seems to be the one to steer her back on track - and this seems to be just another case.)

———

Rory has never been one of those obnoxious new year, new me! types, but she’s veering dangerously close this time. After a year of so much change and uncertainty, it feels like a chance to turn over a new leaf and rediscover so much of the direction that she’s lost. 

Though it feels like she still might jinx it, it feels like things are finally coming back together. Chilton has contracted her to teach her class in the spring semester again, and she’s picked up some work writing book reviews for an online publication. That feels a little like coming back to her roots, in a way - she started at a little online setup, and now, after years of chasing glossy magazines and newsprint, she’s back here again. But the assignment is enjoyable, and money is money - especially since she’s got her eye on a small house for rent near where Lane lives, in a neighborhood of quaint bungalows. She’ll always be grateful to Luke for his generosity in letting her live above the diner for so long, but it’s not workable long term. Ivy is growing every day; while Rory’s homecoming back to Stars Hollow has brought into focus that this is the place she wants to raise her daughter, they both need more space. Ivy deserves her own room, maybe a backyard to run around in, and Rory deserves a door she can close while her baby is napping. 

Most exciting of all, Rory finishes her book in early February. At least, in the moment, it feels most exciting of all - it’s been months of blood, sweat and tears, but it’s done . There’s a feeling of relief as the last period hits the page, even if she consciously knows there’s still so much editing to do. Writing the book, about her and her mom and the way they’ve lived, had been emotionally draining and emotionally freeing all at once, and calling it finished feels like an accomplishment like she hasn’t found professionally in so long. 

The next time Jess drives up to town, Rory practically dances around the kitchen in anticipation, waiting for him to knock on the door. There had been so many people who supported her during this weird time in her life, and then when she decided to write this book, but Jess sits high on that list. The idea had originated with him, and he’s prodded and encouraged her the whole way; it feels right that he see it first, even if he’s made her promise this whole time to shop it around to bigger publishing houses instead of just asking him and Truncheon to publish it. 

“Someone’s happy,” he comments when she opens the door with a huge grin. “Do I even want to know, or did your mom share another convoluted sex joke?”

“You’re going to want to hear this,” Rory promises. “And no, it’s not a joke. Sexual or otherwise. Close your eyes.”

Jess rolls his eyes first, but he complies and even smiles a bit. For full dramatic effect, Rory had printed the book onto real paper - dozens and hundreds of pages, all off the Gazette office’s ancient printer over the course of a day that she’ll probably wind up paying for in some way later. It’s worth it , to stand here with all those pages in a binder clip with a red pen. With a final flutter of nerves, she shoves it all into his chest.

Jess’ arms close around her offering on instinct; his eyes open to actually see what’s going on a second later. Looking at the pages in his arms, comprehension dawns slowly, and his own rare grin spreads. “You finished your book?”

“I finished the book!” Rory squeals, not caring nearly as much as she should about disturbing her currently quiet daughter.

Uncharacteristically, Jess sweeps her into a hug - a big, swooping thing where her feet leave the floor and he spins her about a bit. Those arm muscles, you know. “I’m so proud of you,” he says. “This is amazing . You’re a genius, Rory.”

“You haven’t read it yet,” she laughs as he sets her back down. “It could be absolute trash. I could have slandered your good name. I could have —”

“Yeah, but I know you didn’t. You’re Rory Gilmore. Obviously it’s going to be great.”

There’s a moment there, where he looks at her with pride and awe and so much shared joy that Rory thinks it would be so easy to lean up and kiss him. And maybe it’s the moment, the adrenaline, but she wants that. Not letting herself think too much, she starts inching upwards, as he starts inching down —

And then Ivy shrieks from her playpen - a happy sound, likely picking up on the joy bouncing around the room, but enough to shatter the moment.

“I’d better check on her,” Rory says weakly. “But go nuts. Tear it apart, tell me what I need to fix. I want to hear what you think.”

“Included the pen and all,” he tosses back. If Rory’s not mistaken, his voice is a little uneven. Did she do that? God, she did that. She can’t do that.

So, like so many times before - Rory bolts to avoid talking about what just almost happened. 

(Even if it’s just to the other side of the room.) 

———

“What should I do?” Rory begs her mom in the aftermath, pacing back and forth in the living room while Lorelai scrolls through online sewing patterns. She’s never been entirely confident in affairs of the heart anyways, having maneuvered herself into a mess a few too many times - with everyone but Jess, that is. Maybe that’s why she needs advice so badly; not only is there Ivy to consider, but her and Jess’ relationship is the last one she hasn’t outright screwed up yet. 

“Well, what do you want to do?” Lorelai asks. Like a normal, reasonable person, who also maybe hasn’t had to think about this for the past ten years since she figured out her soulmate was right in front of her face. Rory’s never been so frustrated with Luke than in this moment, knowing he made the kind of commiseration she’s looking for impossible. 

“I wanted to kiss him!”

“Then you should! Next time you see him and the moment is right!”

“But I can’t!”

Lorelai dramatically closes the laptop. “Are we circling? I feel like we’re circling. Why are you asking for advice if you know what you supposedly can or can’t do?” When that produces no useful response, she plows forward. “Okay, new tactic. Why can’t you?”

Rory sighs. “I just feel like… I’ve barely got things figured out, you know? And he does. I don’t want to fuck things up for him. My life right now is a mess .”

“Ok, I’m going to stop you right there. If he thinks you and Ivy being in his life is anything less than a damn miracle, then there’s your answer, that’s my opinion, do not pass go, do not move forward with this.”

“But it’s Jess.”

“Right, it’s Jess. And as much as it might pain for me to admit, I have gotten to know Jess a lot more in the past few years since he got his act together, and I have trouble believing he’s that particular brand of asshole. That guy’s been around, and happy to be here, since the moment you moved back home. Job or no job, kid or no kid.”

“But what do I do with that?” Rory whines. 

Her mom sighs. “With full awareness of me, queen of avoidance, telling you this - you talk to him, Ror. I know you’ve got plenty of words, my darling daughter, my mini me, my legacy. Use them, for the love of all things holy. Comprende?” Rory nods, not capable of much else. Especially when the solution is supposedly so simple. “Cool. Now sit down and convince me that I have enough on my plate and don’t need to try making baby clothes even if they really are stinking cute and the whole matched ruffle trend in the kids stores drives me nuts.”

———

When Lorelai suggested that Rory and Jess talk, she probably imagined a calm, planned, adult conversation. For better or worse, though, this is Rory - that was never going to happen. So instead of easing into the topic carefully, she blurts out it out in the diner, the last night before Jess drives back to Philadelphia in the morning. 

“I want to talk about what happened the other day,” she all but demands when Jess gets up to make more coffee. 

His steps falter with the carafe in hand, before moving again to get fresh water. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I mean… we almost kissed.”

“I know. I was there.”

“So what does that mean? ”

That finally gets him to set the container down, bracing both hands on the counter. “I don’t know Rory. I don’t know. I’m not going to stand here and pretend I don’t feel something, because I do, but you are… You’ve been through a lot this year, and I don’t know that I want to be the guy that you latch onto because you’re lonely and I’m here. I don’t think I can do that.”

Rory is struck speechless for a moment at the very idea. She’d never even thought of that; these feelings have been percolating in her for so long, but she’s never given him any indication of that. Of course he thinks this is coming out of nowhere. “Jess…”

“If you want to be something, give this a second shot, yeah, of course. I’m there, I’m all in. I’m your guy. But I want you to be sure about that, Rory. I… I haven’t been yearning or pining or carrying a torch or any other bullshit you’d find in a romance novel, but I figured out a long time ago that I like my life with you in it. I like that I get you and you get me. I love your kid and I mostly like your mom. So I’m sure. But if this is just because I’m available and here —”

“But don’t you see? That’s part of the point!” Rory interrupts. “I mean, you’re making it sound like such a bad thing, but that fact that yeah, you’re here - that’s huge . And it’s not the whole reason I want to get into this, but - I mean, you’ve been supporting me through this book. You are entirely unphased by the fact that I have a kid with someone else who isn’t here. You’ve got this faith me I still don’t fully understand, and… Yeah, I want this. I want this because you’re a more mature version of that brilliant, sarcastic bastard I fell in love with as a teenager, but I want it too because you want to be here.” She finally pauses for breath. “Does that make sense?”

Jess nods silently. Nothing more.

Time to babble - by far the worst trait she inherited from her mom. “So… is any of that a deal breaker? Because honestly, I wouldn’t blame you, that was definitely a lot to dump all at once. But also, you should know what you’re getting into, you have almost fifteen years of experience listening to me word vomit, so if you didn’t think that’d continue —”

In the time that she runs her mouth, Jess crosses back to her side. “Would you just… shut up for two minutes?”

And he kisses her - takes her face between his hands and brings their mouths together, like she’s fantasized about more than she’d like to admit. It’s like falling back in time in the best way, relearning the shape of each other’s lips and the way they fit together. No chicken pecks here. Rory gladly twines her arms around his neck to pull him as close as possible as his hands readjust, one sliding back into her hair as the other drops to grasp at her hip. When he gently nips at her top lip, she can’t help but giggle - giggle, like a teenager again! - before diving back in to deepen the kiss. Like so many things with Jess, this feels right , like they’ve been leading back to it forever. 

They finally break apart only when Rory becomes aware of the fact that they’re still in the closed diner, perfectly in view of the darkened street.

“As good as you remember?” she asks cheekily.

Jess leans his head down to rest his forehead against hers. “Better.” They take a moment just to enjoy the shared space before he continues. “Any regrets?”

Rory smiles. “None. I’m sure. I think I’m exactly where I need to be.”

And for the first time in forever - she knows that’s true. 

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Chapters 25-27

This is the first leg of the “D” arc.   I had originally planned on trying to do the whole thing in one post, but it’s pretty long and meanders in places, so instead I’m going to break it up, starting with the part that wraps up volume 4 of the collected editions.

Much of these first three chapters just showcases Millennium preparing to depart their secret headquarters in Brazil.  They have three blimps, maybe more.   We already saw the Graf Zeppelin III, but there’s also a Graf Zeppelin II and a Hindenberg II.   Also, the Major refers to all of this as “Operation Sea Lion 2″.  The original “Operation Sea Lion” was Nazi Germany’s plan to invade the U.K. during World War II.   It was never enacted, however, because the Germans couldn’t establish air and naval superiority over the British.  Basically, the Major is declaring that he has finally achieved what Hilter could not, thanks to his “Last Battalion” of 1000 vampire soldiers.

The bridge of his flagship (flagblimp) has this big comfy chair on a robot arm, and a panoramic world map.   The arrows on the map point in all sorts of nutty directions, including the United States and other European nations.   I could have sworn I had heard some mention in Hellsing Ultimate of Millennium sending forces to the U.S., but the international angle was never mentioned again, and I assumed that I must have imagined it.  In any event, the Major made it clear that his target is Alucard specifically, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense to invade places where Alucard is not.

The Major prepares to take his seat only to find Warrant Officer Schrödinger sitting in his chair.   Remember, Schrödinger inexplicably teleported himself to London to address Hellsing and Iscariot, and then he got shot and killed for his trouble.   But now he’s back, alive and well.   He mocks the Major for being to slow, and the Doctor scolds him for his insolence, but the Major orders Doc to back off.   This is a running gag throughout the rest of the series.  The Doctor keeps trying to chastise Schrödinger, but the Major lets him do whatever the boy wants, almost like he’s some favorite pet.  

Meanwhile, an unidentified helicopter tries to land on a British carrier, the H.M.S. Eagle.   The Captain orders his crew to open fire, but the first officer suddenly does this:

So yeah, the first officer is a vampire now, and he’s sold out Queen and Country for Millennium.  He and a handful of vampire crewmen kill the rest of the crew and turn them all into ghouls, allowing the helicopter to land, making way for...

This lady, Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle.  I should point out that in the pages leading up to her boarding the Eagle, she was singing Engelandlied, a German war anthem from World War I.   She’s nutty, is the idea.

So, I’m gonna go ahead and put forth my fan theory that all the bad guys we dealt with prior to Rip were just patsies for Millennium, and not actual members in their own right.   This includes Tubalcain “Dandyman” Alahambra, because, for all his powers, no one ever said his rank, leading me to think he didn’t have one.   Same with the Valentine Brothers and any of the vampires Alucard and Seras were sent to fight during the first dozen or so chapters of this manga.   Millennium may have turned them into vampires, and in some cases they even let them in on Millennium’s inner workings, but they were never more than cannon fodder.   Jan seemed to understand this, although Luke and Dandyman seemed to believe they were genuinely created to represent the new pinnacle of vampiric power.   Even the Doctor thought Dandyman had a strong chance of beating Alucard, but in the end they were just experiments meant to test Alucard’s mettle.

And, really, the rest of Millennium is not much different, except Rip and the others actually know why they’re being sacrificed, even if they don’t necessarily understand how or when.

Meanwhile, Seras still won’t drink blood, and she keeps trying to eat regular food instead, even though she struggles to swallow every bite.   I’ve never been very clear on whether vampires in Hellsing can eat non-blood food or not.  Seras is doing it, albeit painfully, but I don’t think she really gains anything from it, except whatever coping mechanism this is supposed to serve.   

So in walks Sir Integra, who dumps a bag of medical blood on her table.  Seras never really answers Integra’s question, but she already told Walter, and it’s not much of an answer.   The heart of the matter is this: Seras really doesn’t want to be a vampire.   Or, maybe, more accurately, she doesn’t want to stop being human.   The trouble is that she already lost that battle way back in Chapter 1. 

In many ways, Seras has accepted her fate.   She works for Hellsing, recognizes Alucard as her vampire master, and so on.  I think she understands that this is the only life she can have now, and her will to live is strong enough that she appreciates what Alucard and Integra have done for her.    At her core, Seras is a public servant, and fighting monsters for Hellsing is not so different from fighting crime as a policewoman.  I think she sees her current condition as a means to that end.   She doesn’t crave power like the evil vampires we’ve seen thus far.    Seras views her abilities as a means to an end.   Alucard biting her gave her a way to stay alive and continue fighting the good fight.

However, she doesn’t want the baggage that goes along with that.   She wants to retain as much of her humanity as she can, and drinking blood is the one thing that she has some control over, or so she believes.

But Integra’s far too practical for that dilemma.   Alucard was willing to respect Seras’ relucatance, but she needs her troops on their toes and ready for action.  So she takes a knife and cuts open her finger, and then orders Seras to lick the blood off.    This is... disturbingly sexual, and one of a number of scenes that reminds me that Hirano Kouta had done a lot of, er, adult comics before Hellsing.   I think he did a lot of uniform fetishy stuff too, which is why Seras and Schrödinger’s uniforms look so similar to each other.   Both are meant to resemble German WWII gear.   I’m willing to grant some leeway here, because there’s probably only so many ways to do a finger-licking scene like this without sexualizing it a little, but the last bit with the saliva trail is just revolting. 

So, what’s bugged me for a long time was that if Seras drank (a little) of Integra’s blood here, why did this subplot not get paid off until much later in the story?  She drank blood, didn’t she?   Well, yeah, but Integra ordered her to do it, so it doesn’t count.   This came up a couple of times earlier in the story, when Walter and Al mentioned that she wouldn’t drink blood willingly.  It’s not just an ethical issue for Seras, or she’d simply chow down on the medical blood.  I guess Integra could force feed her every night, but that wouldn’t solve anything.   This is about Seras accepting her transformation as a fait accompli.   I think this is why she very nearly drank Alucard’s blood back in Northern Ireland, when it sure looked like there was no other way for her to survive.  But if she’s just sitting there with no one making her do it, and no urgent need to do it, she’ll refuse every time.  

I think Hellsing uses the premise that a vampire has to do more than just bite a human to turn them into a vampire.  That is, Alucard had to put his own blood in Seras’ body to complete that transformation.   I think that’s how it worked in the Dracula novel, and Seras herself mentions it in the Gonzoverse anime.   But that wouldn’t count either, because it’s part of the change itself.  The idea is for the new vampire to partake in blood-drinking by choice, and until that happens, they won’t get all the cool powers.   

One other thing, Integra takes this opportunity to mention that she’s a virgin, which is a weird flex for this situation, but okay.  In Hellsing, that means Integra could become a vampire herself, but not if Seras bites her, because it has to be a vampire of the opposite sex.   In any case, Tegs warns Seras not to bite down during this creepy finger-licking KFC-hentai thing.   

Back in the damn ocean, Lt. Rip van Winkle is welcomed aboard by the traitorous crew of the Eagle.   She asks them how it feels to be a vampire, and causally reminds them of their treachery.   Then she gives them new orders, which are to die by her magic gun, which fires a bullet that can turn around in midair.

And so the First Officer and his lackeys learn the same lesson as the Brazillians working for the Dandyman, and the Dandyman himself, and the Valentine Brothers and whoever else.  Millennium might turn you into a vampire, but that hardly means that you’ll live forever.   Millennium always demands treason as payment for their help, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they might betray you sooner or later.

Besides, Rip doesn’t need the British crew, because she has her own henchman on board her chopper.   While she waits for them to wake up, she paints a swastika on the deck, just to make it clear that they’ve taken control of the Eagle, which she renames the Adler.  That’s German for “Eagle”, you see.

Back on his blimp, the Major cuts this twenty-minute promo which basically amounts to “I love war, we have no particular agenda except to wage endless war for the fun of it.”   Back in England, Alucard is eagerly awaiting their arrival.  

[sambergscott]

you’re a light in the dark

post-7x06 // Jake and Amy (and me) dealing. 

Her parents had eight kids. She has a million nieces and nephews and a million more cousins. Jake’s dad seemingly made babies in every major airline hub in North America. And yet, for some reason, this isn’t happening for them.

The first couple of months, they don’t think anything of it. Trying to make a baby is fun and magical and neither of them are gonna complain about having more sex.

She consults the baby binder a little more as time goes on and her period arrives on the twenty fifth of each month like clockwork. They throw out their favourite take out menus, start eating healthier and run together every morning before work.

They also buy a new couch and a family friendly mid-size sedan and the cutest baby Adidas Superstars she’s ever seen, because they’re convinced that they’ll be pregnant before they know it and Amy Santiago is nothing if not prepared.

They schedule sexy times and foreplay and fantasise about what their baby will be like in their post-sex haze.

When that doesn’t work, they try The Jake Way: a super sexy mission to rescue her husband from kidnappers ending in a super sexy Airbnb tryst.

Still, the pregnancy test comes back negative.

As the leaves turn from green to amber and the air cools, forcing Amy to get out their winter coats and turn their apartment heating up to high, she starts to worry. They’re doing everything right, they’re taking the vitamins, eating healthy, having sex all the time. There must be a reason why it isn’t working.

After watching an episode of Friends on their new couch -- The One With The Fertility Test -- she decides to book them a doctor’s appointment.

“As a precaution,” she tells her husband when he furrows his brow in concern.

“Uh, OK, yeah, sure,” he agrees, pausing the episode.

She phones the doctor, books the first available appointment (Monday at 2.15 pm) and adds it to their joint calendar. “Snuggle with me?” She asks once he has accepted her invite.

“C’mere.” He pulls her into his arms and holds her tight as she cries into his shirt.

They don’t watch any more Friends. It hurts too much, seeing her favourite fictional couple going through the same heartbreak as them. They don’t watch much TV at all, not even Die Hard. The trailer for the new Babies documentary starts playing as she flicks through Netflix one night while Jake is working late and she almost breaks the TV with the way she throws the remote across the room.

The doctor’s appointment rolls round and they’re both nervous as hell.

They booked the entire day off work as advised by the kind receptionist on the phone, who warned them that they would be extremely emotional both before and after. Booking the day off was an ordeal in itself when Terry wrongfully assumed they were getting a sonogram. There was a crushing feeling in Amy’s chest listening to her husband explain that no, they’re not pregnant, not yet.

Not yet.

They hold hands tightly as they wait for the doctor to call them in. Jake bounces his leg, Amy chews her lower lip, they both try not to cry when another couple walks in with a baby in one of those carriers that all the cool dads seem to wear. Jake’s been eyeing them up online for months. If John Legend can rock the baby carrier look, so can he.

“Why are they at the fertility clinic when they’ve already made one?” Amy mutters darkly.

The doctor says their names before Jake can respond.

He squeezes Amy’s hand as they follow the doctor to her room, a silent reminder that they’re in this together.

They have to explain the issue -- how long they’ve been trying, whether Amy has suffered any previous miscarriages, what their lifestyles are like. It’s a little embarrassing, going into the specifics of their sex life, but it’s all for a good cause. The best cause. Creating a new little life, a baby just like the dozens of pictures of success stories on the walls, Santiago-Peralta stylez.

“You’re doing everything I would usually recommend to my patients,” she says and despite herself, Amy’s lips twitch into a tiny smile. She knew her research was thorough. “Sometimes your body takes time to adjust to coming off birth control or reacts badly to stress. Sometimes it just takes a while and there’s no real reason why. We’ll take some samples from you both, but my advice is to just keep doing what you are.”

The tests come back negative, which should be good news, but it just sucks even more.

If there’s nothing wrong with them then why can’t they get pregnant?!

As they grapple with their situation, it seems like everyone around them is getting pregnant. Celebrities on Instagram. A couple of Amy’s uniformed officers. Santiago cousin after Santiago cousin. Hitchcock and that Russian chick with the missing tooth.

She tries to be happy for them, she really does, the façade crumbling as soon as she’s alone with Jake and sobbing into his shirt again.

They get hammered at Hitchcock’s wedding and attempt to have sex in the bathroom, alley and supply closet at work before giving up and just having sex in their own apartment, in their own bed. It’s not as crazy as Hitchcock’s story, but it’s still pretty hot and the sex is as stupid good as it’s always been.

She really thinks it’s worked this time. She’s got the sickness, the sore boobs, her period is late...

Jake runs to the store to get a new pregnancy test and a cute onesie he saw and just had to buy. They’re both positively vibrating as she chugs a litre of water, pees on the stick and sets the timer on her phone.

It’s second nature to them now, waiting for the test to say Pregnant.

Amy paces the width of the bathroom.

Jake twists his wedding ring on his finger.

They share apprehensive smiles.

When the timer finally goes off, Amy picks up the test, feeling hopeful for the first time in months.

Her face falls. “Negative.”

“We’ll try again next month,” he promises as she throws it into the trash. She is so sick of hearing next month, next month, next month. She wants a baby now.

Which is why the decision to stop trying is so painful.

She doesn’t want to stop. All she wants is to see Jake holding a baby -- their baby. But nothing is working and the last six months have been so difficult, a literal rollercoaster of excitement, disappointment, excitement, disappointment. And Amy has never liked rollercoasters.

She feels guilty, like it’s her fault they haven’t got pregnant yet, like she’s just bad at making babies. She confides in Rosa about it and she knows Jake talks to Charles, their friends both coming to the conclusion that as much as they want this for them too (and Charles really, really does), they’re clearly exhausted and sad and stressed and maybe taking a break would be a good thing.

So she tells Jake she’s done trying.

It’s hard enough to walk away from him, from their dream of having a family, and even harder to go to Hitchcock’s party and pretend like everything’s fine when it’s not fine. Everything is garbage, just like Holt said at Captain Dozerman’s funeral.

But then Jake joins her at the bar with a slice of cake with a heart on top and is all sweet and understanding and the best husband she could have possibly asked for. He tells her that they’re already a family and whether the universe wants them to be just a two or a whole squad of Peraltas, he’ll be happy either way.

“I love you,” she says after he finishes his speech.

“I love you,” he responds.

They lean in for a kiss. It starts off sweet, gentle, heating up when she realises just how much she’s missed this, kissing him without the constant pressure of needing to conceive. It feels nice.

“Should we go?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately, without question.

They use their final pregnancy test a couple of weeks later. It’s still negative, but it doesn’t feel like the end of the world anymore. They’ve taken down the command center, getting their living room back, their morning and evening routines are so much shorter now they’re not taking all the vitamins and sex is considerably more enjoyable. Sure, they still want kids one day -- they both smile wistfully every time they pass a stroller in the street and volunteer for regular babysitting duties -- and when the universe finally grants them a beautiful baby of their own, they will no doubt be the happiest parents this side of the East River, but for right now they’re OK, just the two of them, their little family, their own slice of perfection.

[soulvomit]

Talking back to the Geek Social Fallacies: they’re a non-intersectional analysis that doesn’t take into account how diverse our community is, and assumes we don’t have agency in our own social relationships.

Geek Social Fallacy #1: Ostracizers Are Evil

From the website:  GSF1 is one of the most common fallacies, and one of the most deeply held. Many geeks have had horrible, humiliating, and formative experiences with ostracism, and the notion of being on the other side of the transaction is repugnant to them.

I think this is true some of the time, but not all. Here is the problem with how this is framed. The biggest problem with this (like with the rest of the analysis of the GSF) is that it’s a non-intersectional viewpoint of a diverse set of spaces that have unspoken traditional power dynamics. People outside of those dynamics - women, POC, and or LGBTQ people - talk about those dynamics *all the time.* Plenty of geek social issues aren’t individual, they’re structural.

There is a lot of geek exceptionalism here: it’s as if geek culture exists in a hermetically sealed bubble apart from the rest of society or its dynamics, pissing contests, or biases, and it’s as if problems that take place within geek space, are specific to geek space.

It’s also as if geeks don’t have agency or ever choose their friends and spaces with intention, and never reject or ostracize people. Plenty of us are geeks/nerds because we don’t hang out with just *anybody* and a lot of us really do think we are smarter and or more successful than a lot of other people in our own social class (which is part of the unspoken class anxiety in nerd/geek identity). A lot of us have defensive walls up in non-geeky spaces - but there are some of us who actively think we’re more interesting, higher class, better informed, or smarter than non-nerdy/non-geeky people.

Finally, the problem with assuming that the problem is “Ostracizers Are Evil”

assumes that geeks/nerds don’t prioritize some friendships within their group over other friendships, and ignores that structural and or unconscious biases may exist in geek/nerd space just like they do in other spaces. The person asked not to be an ostracizer is so often someone who’s expected to do emotional labor/be “the Giving Tree” or who has a more subordinate status in the group. The people we’re expected to tolerate aren’t merely some elephant in the room that everyone is working around, the group is often actively prioritizing that person over the people who don’t like that person. They’re not merely tolerating them. They put up with Jason the Creeper and Cat Piss Man because they like them and/or Jason and CPM go way back in the group! 

Geek Social Fallacy #2: Friends Accept Me As I Am

The origins of GSF2 are closely allied to the origins of GSF1. After being victimized by social exclusion, many geeks experience their "tribe" as a non-judgmental haven where they can take refuge from the cruel world outside.

Well... maybe this is true for some people, but the problem is, there are power dynamics *within* geek/nerd culture. This is another case where I feel like the author isn’t seeing the forest for the trees. Plenty of people don’t find geek/nerd culture to be a haven and don’t take acceptance for granted! Just because geek/nerd culture may be a haven *for some cis het men* from some kinds of gender essentialist tropes, doesn’t mean it’s a haven for other people.  

If you’re somebody who is always fighting for space in that world because it’s the only space you get to have *anywhere*, and you’re always running into the power dynamics of other groups, then it isn’t that easy to miss in geek/nerd culture. 

Geek Social Fallacy #3: Friendship Before All

I’m not really arguing with this one as a common problem within geek space.  I do wish analysis of it would go further, because I feel there’s often an active codependent or enabling/co-addictive process. People really do get addicted to fantasy based stuff, and to video games, and to media. Even addiction specialists acknowledge this. But there are very few people doing analysis of addictive dynamics, anti-recovery, or enabling within geek/nerd space. One of the problems is that this is really pervasive in geek/nerd space and it’s almost impossible to get away from unless you completely quit geek/nerd space altogether, at least for a while. The thing is, many cases of “Friendship Before All” aren’t necessarily that the person has a broad feeling of this, as much as it reflects a specific codependent or co-addictive relationships within the group. (The fallacy I keep seeing here is again the assumption that geeks don’t have social agency, or specific social choices.) Some geeky spaces can even get into folie a deux dynamics or cult dynamics. 

The problem I had dealing with maladaptive daydreaming (which is often seen as addiction-adjacent) was that geek culture, especially tabletop gaming, was actively reinforcing it, and I actively needed to get away from that group for a while to get a handle on the maladaptive daydreaming that was taking over my life. The thing I needed to NOT do was be around people who obsessively daydreamed about their “ships,” or in any space that encouraged me to spend ten hours a day daydreaming about my RP characters. (I do RP again, but only because I’m in a space where it doesn’t take over my life.)

I had a couple of uncomfortably intense friendships that were as enmeshed as they were because they were based around us sharing the fantasy lives that neither of us could share with other people, let alone reveal to the world, and because we enabled each other’s bad escapist tendencies.

Geek Social Fallacy #4: Friendship Is Transitive

Every carrier of GSF4 has, at some point, said:"Wouldn't it be great to get all my groups of friends into one place for one big happy party?!"If you groaned at that last paragraph, you may be a recovering GSF4 carrier.GSF4 is the belief that any two of your friends ought to be friends with each other, and if they're not, something is Very Wrong.

I won’t say I’ve never seen this, but in a lot of cases, I don’t think it’s anything but the behavior of *young and socially inexperienced* people in general. It also assumes that we are talking a group of people who are all potential in-group and none of whom are ever one-down or on the business end of bias. It assumes that geeks never compartmentalize their friends, which is wrong - lots of us do, especially if we’re social climbers (which lots of geeks/nerds are and won’t admit it). (Let’s be honest, would YOU really introduce everyone you have ever gamed with, to the people at your staid/conservative job that you’re trying to get promoted at?)

GSF4 ignores the phenomenon of gatekeeping.  If you’re ever the person on the other end of gatekeeping of any kind, you certainly don’t experience every geek wanting to introduce you to all of their friends. It’s another case where I feel like the author’s viewpoint is just too narrow and that their generalizations are based upon a small set of people who are themselves always the gatekeepers.

Geek Social Fallacy #5: Friends Do Everything Together

GSF5, put simply, maintains that every friend in a circle should be included in every activity to the full extent possible. This is subtly different from GSF1; GSF1 requires that no one, friend or not, be excluded, while GSF5 requires that every friend be invited. This means that to a GSF5 carrier, not being invited to something is intrinsically a snub, and will be responded to as such.

This is another case that tries to oversimplify and lump multiple kinds of situations in geek/nerd space into one Grand Unified Field Theory: experience of *young* social spaces, experience of structural bias/gatekeeping, individual neediness (or projections coming from same) that also happens outside of geek spaces, and dynamics that happen with lots of subcultural spaces.

The biggest issue I have with the author’s analysis is about the structural bias, because GSF5 totally ignores 

ignores the existence of bias and structural stuff in geek/nerd spaces. And I don’t deny that GSF5 actually exists, but it has to be analyzed intersectionally. In adult spaces, I feel like I’ve seen people more often accused of some form of GSF5 to gaslight them about elitism, than I’ve seen actually being carriers of GSF5. 

I mean, what if you *are* being excluded and everyone around you is saying “don’t be silly, we don’t exclude people?” What if it *is* a snub and you’re told you’re imagining things? What if you’re actually not being invited to the thing?

There *is* an issue in geek space where individual cliques of friends intersect with larger groups, and friends-of-friends, and friends-of-friends-of-friends. But plenty of geeks just associate with their specific cliques.

[fanficsaremylifeline]

Bodyswap

On AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891229

*****

Something on this last mission went horribly wrong. Tony hadn't even opened his eyes yet, but he could feel it; something was not right. There was nothing too unusual, when he eventually glinted through his eyes and looked around the quinjet. The mission went by relatively quickly; SHIELD called them to the Andes, where some Alien was literally breaking mountains apart. Tony had thought it an exaggeration, until he and the Avengers stood in front of the giant creature next to which even Hulk looked small. As much as Tony hated it, but the most apt comparison was a kind of humanoid centipede. There were a lot of arms and legs, too many for Tony's liking. The creature did use it's limbs to beat the Avengers up; he did get quite a few ugly blows in, Tony had to hand it that. His preferred method of fighting was a sort of purple glittery gel that it spewed at the six heroes; by the end of the fight they were covered from head to toe in that disgusting goo. Thank the heavens, it didn't smell.

But by now they were on the helicarrier, more or less cleaned up; SHIELD had the thing under lock and key. How they got the thing on the ship, Tony didn't know. And if he weren't that exhausted after the fight, he'd really would have liked to find out. All of them were unusually exhausted and they all had dozed off within minutes of taking flight. But, except for the last bit of goo dripping off them, everything seemed to be as it always was. Nat and Clint were lying half on top of each other as usual; Thor was sprawled out on a chair; Tony snored softly with his feet on Bruce's armrest.

Wait.

WHAT?

Tony still had to be dreaming, that was the only explanation for him to see himself on the other side of the room, while Tony looked like... Oh, they had to be fucking kidding him! As he looked down himself, he saw the red, white and blue suit of Captain America. And sure enough, there was the shield, propped up against his chair, covered in gel.

Tony repeatedly pinched himself, but sure enough, he was still stuck in this weird bizarro world.

“Jarvis?”

“How can I help you?”

Well, here goes nothing. “Who am I?”

“You are Steven Grant Rogers, better known as Captain America, born on the fourth of July 1918 in...”

Tony waved him off. Not even his own AI could recognize him... Whatever this was, it had to stop right fucking now.

“Up and at 'em”, he yelled, “CODE RED!”

Everybody stirred; Nat and Thor jumped up at Tony's  call looking ready and wide awake. Clint and that Tony-clone stirred a little slower, but they were also almost immediately alert clearly awaiting a mission report and orders. Steve was the captain after all, and with Tony apparently wearing his face... Bruce was the only one not waking up; but after hulking out that wasn't anything too unusual.

“WHAT? Who are you and why do you look like me?”, Nat cried out and took two steps towards Tony; well, tried to. Her staggering was about as graceful as a newborn deer on ice and after she had found her balance again she looked down herself and turned beet-red immediately. “Oh my god”, prompting a round of curses as everyone found themselves no longer inhabiting their own bodies.

“Guys. GUYS!”, Tony cried to get everybody's attention. “Guess I'm not the only one in the wrong skin. Let's do inventory. Tony here.”

“Clint.” The other Tony raised his hand and Tony could only groan that Katniss was in charge of his body.

“Nat”, came Thor's booming voice.

“And I'm Bruce”, Clint waved.

“Which'd make you Cap or Thor.” Tony turned to the still beet-red Natasha; from the level of apparent embarrassment, it was probably Rogers.

“Steve.” It was absolutely hilarious that Steve never-been-with-a-girl Rogers was now sporting Nat's body; thank the god of irony!

“That'd make me, well him, Thor”, Clint!Bruce pointed at his body.

“What the absolute fuck happened?”, Thor!Nat asked.

“No idea, but it's very weird to hear Thor swear”, Clint!Bruce observed.

“Weirder than Steve having boobs?”, Tony!Clint laughed and was promptly hit on the arm by Thor!Nat.

“HEY!”, Clint and Tony called out in unison. “Don't you dare bruise my body!”, the real Tony made clear, while the fake Tony rubbed his arm.

“I'm really sorry, Nat”, Nat!Steve apologized over and over again and crossed their arms tightly in front of their chest to cover as much as possible.

“Cap, we all know you've never been inside a woman before, but we have more urgent issues right now”, Tony shot over and turned to Clint. “You're Bruce, right?”

“Yes”, he nodded wide-eyed.

“Well, in your expert medical opinion, do you agree that this slime needs to be examined asap?”

“I do. My best guess would be maybe some psychic properties... Not quite sure. We need to talk to that... thing.”

“Yeah, I'll get right on that.”

“Why you?”, Nat!Steve asked.

“Because we all know that Fury trusts Cap more than anyone else”, Tony shot back with a shrug.

“Wait”, Tony!Clint interrupted. “You don't want to tell Fury what's going on here?”

“If we do that, we'll be SHIELD's guinea pigs”, Thor!Nat agreed with Tony. “Do you want to be locked in a lab, while they experiment on us?”

“Good point. So, I'll just be Tony then?”, he asked, and Tony didn't like that grin one bit.

“You couldn't be me in a million years”, he scoffed at his body.

“You wanna bet?”

“You're both pretty”, Thor!Nat interrupted the bickering, no time to soon, as the door opened and Fury walked in.

“Good you're up. You guys feeling alright?”

“Yeah”, Tony nodded, “just a bit banged up, but we're fine.”

“Good. So, slight change of plans”, he announced. “We'll drop you of in New York, before heading to SHIELD HQ with our special guest.”

“Do you mind if we tag along? I'd like to question that thing.”

“You've done your job, Cap, now SHIELD will do ours; we got it handled. Besides, you're under medical lockdown; Helen Cho is already informed that you guys came into contact with some unknown alien substance and that she needs to keep an eye on you. So far all our tests read it as not dangerous, but just to be sure.”

That would not do. “I'm fine”, Tony stated and promptly tripped over Roger's damn long legs. Fine, at first it might have felt not too bad in this body, with it being a super soldier one; or maybe because this body was 15 years younger than Tony's. But there was so much more body, especially height, to carry around...

“Yeah, I can see that”, Fury deadpanned. ”Still no. Until Cho clears any and all of you, you stay away from SHIELD or any other type of action. And that's an order.”

Damnit. Tony was dying to keep talking and bothering Fury until he got what he wanted. But he was Captain America right now and to not alert Fury, he should probably stand down. Fuck. “Yes, sir.” Ugh, Tony hated that. The other Avengers shot him wide looks, apparently just as surprised as Tony was about being able to take the command without bitching and arguing first. Tony still hated it.

“Good. We'll keep you in the loop”, Fury promised, as the carrier touched down at the Avenger's. “And don't forget Banner”, he added with a nod to Bruce!Thor, who was balled on the ground, fast asleep.

“Yeah, I'm... I mean he's just exhausted from hulking out”, Clint!Bruce explained.

“Right, Barton our resident Hulk expert”, Nick remarked drily. “Off you go and rest.”

Tony caught himself just in time before moaning something along the lines of “yes, mum”, but that would not be very Cap-like. But, in a rare moment of clarity, Barton rolled his eyes at Fury before groaning: “you're not my real Mum!” It was definitely something Tony would have said, but it was just so weird to see it himself talk, without being the one talking...

“Just get out, Stark.”

That he would. Tony!Clint strutted out, followed by Nat!Steve, Clint!Bruce, Thor!Nat carrying the unconscious Bruce!Thor and Tony, who was the last to step out, after nodding at Fury, before he followed the others into the common room. Nat put Thor down on the couch, gently putting a pillow under his head and a blanket over him.

“Should we leave him be?”, Steve whispered and Bruce just shook his head. “I... He is out like a light. Hulking out... Not even a bomb going off would wake me... I mean him.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands together. “First things first. I'm starving.”

“Yeah, that'd be the super metabolism”, Steve explained. No idea how to handle his female body, he changed the way he was sitting for the fifth time in the last thirty seconds.

“I swear to god, just sit alright?”, Nat growled at him. “You are driving me insane!”

“I'm sorry, I... I just don't want to be disrespectful.”

“So just sit your... my... ass down!”

As amusing as it was to watch, Tony had a very grumbly stomach to deal with. “JARVIS, order food please. I don't care what it is, as long as it's here quickly.”

“Of course Captain, your order has been placed.”

Ugh. It's been not even half an hour and Tony was already sick and tired of being called Cap.

But it was about to get so much worse.

The door opened and Pepper hurried inside. Tony already felt so much better as she smiled across the room and he was just about to walk up to her, when she took three big strides right into Barton's arms. “I'm so glad you're alright”, Pepper sighed, cupped his face and kissed him. Actually kissed him.

“What the FUCK?”, Tony yelled, staring at them with wide eyes.

“Hello Steve”, she greeted him, looking quite confused at his sudden outburst of emotion and swearing. “Since when do you mind a bit of PDA between a loving couple?”

“Oh god... That's not me, I am!”, he tried to explain the situation, but only helped to further the confusion. Pepper just looked at Clint who stared back with wide unblinking eyes, frozen to the spot and still in her embrace.

“Oh, for fucks sake!”, Tony groaned, “Barton. Let go of my girlfriend!”

Finally Clint moved, backed away from Pepper.

“What is going on?”, she demanded to know, looking from one Avenger to the next.

“No clue, hadn't have the chance o figure it out yet. We just woke up to some Freaky Friday type situation”, Tony explained.

“So... Who I just kissed was not...”

“That was Clint in my body, yeah.”

“So you're...” Pepper took a few careful steps towards Tony but stopped just before she could reach him.

“Yeah, it's me Pep.” Tony shot her a skew grin and would just die to take that last step towards her and give her a proper kiss. This whole situation probably gave enough cause for couples therapy without someone looking and sounding like Rogers kissing her though.

“Huh. Steve?”

“Here.” He raised his hand, waving shyly.

“Oh wow...”

“Tell me about it”, Thor's voice echoed through the room.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah... Thor's in Bruce and Bruce is in Clint.”

“Hi Pepper”, Bruce smiled over.

“I...” Seeing Pepper speechless was a unusually scary sight. Until she started laughing, loud and heartedly. As much as Tony loved that sound, right now he couldn't really enjoy it.

“I'm glad you're enjoying this”, Tony deadpanned.

“Sorry”, she chuckled. “I guess we can't celebrate the victory just yet?”

“I definitely don't want you to celebrate with this body.”

“And not with yours either, I suppose”, she smirked.

“Well”, Tony mused, “if you did, I believe I'd have earned the right to do Natasha-Steve over there...”

“Oh fuck no!”, Nat called out in Thor's booming voice. “Besides the obvious, Steve is already way to overwhelmed with my body.”

And cue Steve blushing so hard he matched his new hair colour.

“Right then. What did SHIELD say, do they have any idea how to reverse this?”

“We didn't tell them”, Tony admitted.

“What the hell, Tony. You kept all this”, Pepper gestures around the room, “from Fury?”

“If I told him, SHIELD would lock us up and... I don't know experiment on us and shit. We've got more than enough brainpower to figure something out.”

Pepper took a deep breath, before locking eyes with Tony again “Alright. If there's one thing I can trust it's your brain and that your batshit crazy ideas somehow seem to work out.”

“Yeah, I promise. We all want to get into our own bodies as quickly as we can.”

Jarvis interrupted them as he announced: “Food has arrived.”

“Oh thank god”, Tony sighed.

“Right. Dig in, make a plan and I'll be right here if you need me.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

Pepper just pulled her face into a grimace. “I know it's coming from you, but it's really weird hearing it from Steve.”

“I bet”, Tony chuckled. “Under these circumstances I'd be fine with you saying it back to Steve's face.”

“I love you too, Tony”, she smiled, stressing the Tony, and brushed his shoulder as she walked past him and out of the room. And Tony could only stare after her, quite aware of the dopey lovestruck grin on his face, but didn't care who saw it.

“Ehem.” A collective harrumph brought Tony back into a reality where he was still stuck inside Capsicle's body, while Clint inhabited his.

“Right then...” Tony cleared his throat and turned to himself. “Since you're me, you get to pay. Don't fight it”, he shot back as Clint motioned to argue. “I'm being merciful here after watching you kiss Pepper. So, get the food, pronto.”

“Yes, Captain”, Barton shot back and headed for the door.

“Right and we should figured out whether we'll be honest with Cho, because I imagine she'll drag our asses to the infirmary any moment now”, Nat threw in, before glaring menacingly at Steve, who once again shifted in his seat, but stilled as soon as he saw her stare.

“I vote yes”, Banner suggested. “We could use another doctor and I'm sure she would be confused as to why Clint and Steve worked in the lab with her.”

“Good point”, Steve nodded. “I still feel wrong lying to Fury...”

“Only until we've figured out what's wrong. We need to head to DC asap anyway to talk to that alien; by then we'll hopefully know what we're dealing with”, Tony shrugged and gratefully took a pizza box out of Clint's arm as he walked back in. “Agree?”, he asked, already half a slice of pepperoni pizza in his mouth.

“Agree”, Steve nodded. “I really don't mean any disrespect but I'm very much uncomfortable in this body...”

Before Tony or Clint could make some more comments, Helen walked into the room. “Hey, I thought Fury told you to come straight to the medbay!”

“Hello Helen”, Tony greeted her with his mouth full of pizza, “we were gonna come down right after dinner.”

“Tony, please don't talk with your mouth full, especially with a lady”, Steve reprimanded him, before turning to Cho. “I'm sorry, we're still practising manners.”

“Alright, but why call him Tony? And since when do you care about that?” Helen looked from Tony to Steve, the questionmark on her face growing.

“Because I'm Tony”, he answered.

“And I'm Steve. And they're all jumbled up as well.”

“You don't expect me to believe that, do you?” Cho looked like every teacher Tony ever had, who got to listen to his excuses. He used to be quite creative with that, but body swap never occurred to him...

“The first time we met, you stitched up a cut on my leg I got in a knife fight with a perv who thought he could have his way with me”, Nat recalled to prove her identity.

“Natasha?” Her jaw was on the ground as she looked at Thor!Nat with wide eyes.

“Hi Helen...”

“Why the fuck didn't Fury tell me about this?”

“Because we didn't tell him”, Bruce admittedly meekly as he took a few careful steps towards her. “I'm Bruce, by the way.”

“And why the fuck wouldn't you tell him?”

“Because we don't want to end up locked up in a SHIELD lab, where they treat us like guinea pigs. With Tony, me and you, we can run all the tests on us, this weird goo and figure out a way to reverse this.”

“So you want me to lie to Fury.”

“It's just... We're going through enough shit as it is”, Tony explained. “I just got to watch my girlfriend kiss Clint and we have the thundering, blundering Thor inside Bruce, which just screams constant hulk-outs. Locking us up at SHIELD won't help anybody, especially not us.”

Silence fell over the room as Helen looked from Avenger to Avenger. “Fine”, she sighed eventually and exasperated threw her hands up in the air. “Just don't get me fired.”

“Not gonna happen, I promise. Thank you, so, so much! It's all gonna be fine, promise.”

“I'll hold you to that”, Helen made clear and pointed at Tony, “and trust me, you don't want to piss me off.”

“Yeah”, Tony gulped, taking a timid step back, “I got it.”

“Good. To the lab then.”

“But... pizza!” Tony had basically inhaled half a pizza already, but he still felt like he was starving.

“Supermetabolism”, Steve explained.

“Ah”, she nodded. “Fine. Then everybody who's not starving with me.” And, with Steve, Bruce and Clint on her heel, Helen waltzed off, leaving Thor passed out on the couch and Tony and Nat gorging themselves on pizzas. At least Nat felt like he did, with a supermetabolized body.

.

“You guys can shower first”, Helen greeted them as they staggered in, carrying the unconscious Thor while trying not to trip over the annoyingly long legs of their new bodies. Tony had to admit, Natasha handled that giant mountain of muscles a lot more graceful that Tony did... “I got enough samples of the goo for plenty of testing.”

The others had already showered, sitting in jogging trousers and SI sweatshirts on the patient beds. Steve had wrapped himself up completely, hiding all of Nat's curves. Bruce was bent over a microscope, already having started the first tests and Clint had his feet propped up against the wall, reading a magazine.

“Right then”, Tony nodded and carefully, as to not trip too much, he made for the bathroom.

“DON'T LOOK!”, Steve yelled and Tony couldn't help his snorted laugh. “Trust me, I wasn't planning on it.” With that, he disappeared in a shower stall.

.-.-.-.-.

“So”, Helen stated, as she glanced over all the test results. “I can't tell you anything about the glibber yet, but all the tests I ran on you guys... Well, they're spectacularly unspectacular. Your results are in accordance with the body you're inhabiting.”

“Well, nice to know that my body is at least healthy, even though Legolas is running it.”

“You kidding me? I love being in a body that can hear!”, Clint grinned back. “No more hearing aids!”

To stop them from starting a fight, Nat just growled at them and they were quiet. Even though she would probably be respected a lot more in this body, it was nice to know that those two were afraid of Natasha, not Thor's body.

“Thanks for the hint”, Bruce smiled over, reached to his ear and shut off the aids.

And Nat just burst out laughing. She couldn't blame him; those guys were just so damn whiny; if she had the possibility to switch off any hearing, she'd do the same. Huh, she never asked, if Banner knew ASL... “You alright?”, she signed and he smiled back with a nod.

“Sick of the whining.”

“Tell me about it. Lucky you for Clint's body then!” She grinned and Bruce just started laughing.

“At least this one is only 7 years older than mine, not 1500.”

“I don't mind that so much, but it's so damn big and different. Not gonna lie, bathroom was a little tricky earlier.”

“Come on, you got it so much harder when you're not in the wrong skin.”

“Guys, don't discriminate us”, Tony moped, looking from Nat to Bruce.

Clint was still sprawled out on one bed, nose in a magazine. “They're just saying that my body is better than Thor's or Nat's”, he commented, barely looking up at them.

Steve looked over at Tony. “We should probably learn ASL...”

“What's going on?” Bruce locked eyes with Nat.

“More whining”, she grinned back and with a chuckle, Bruce went back to his microscope.

“So, physically everything is normal?”, Steve asked again as he turned to Cho.

“Yeah, why? Something wrong?”

He just shrugged. “I feel kinda weird.”

“The results are all perfectly normal for Natasha”, Helen explained, after double checking her notes. “You do have a bunch of new body parts, maybe you just need to get used to that. If you're still not well by tomorrow or it gets worse, I'll check you again, alright?”

“Sure thing”, he nodded and wrapped the blanket a little tighter around himself.

“Natasha, please tell Bruce to switch the aids on again, I'll need his help to hook you guys up to the computers, so I can run tests on your brainwaves.”

She signed at him and Bruce went back to hearing and to work and in no time, Nat and the guys had all sorts of cables stuck to their heads. And the biologists went nuts over their results, comparing data and throwing technical terms around. All that wouldn't be that unusual, if it weren't all coming from Clint's mouth.

“Dude, this is so bizarre”, Clint whispered over. “I mean, I know it's not me, but...”

“But it sounds and looks like you”, Nat finished his sentence.

“I know how you feel, Barton”, Steve threw over, nodding at his body, discussing something or other with Cho. “Bizarre doesn't even begin to cover all this.”

“How are you guys doing?” Nat didn't even hear the door opening, until Pepper walked up to them and sat herself on Nat's bed.

“The bodies are healthy”, she recapped, “the nerds are currently trying to decipher our brainwaves.”

“I might be slightly biased, but you are in quite capable hands with those three”, Pepper smiled.

“No bias, very true facts”, Steve agreed.

“Well, Clint.” She turned to him and Nat could see how much she was weirded out by her boyfriend's body keeping its distance. “I believe I owe you an apology for me throwing myself at you earlier.”

“There's no need to apologize, how were you supposed to know that it wasn't Tony... Still, in the fear of crossing a line here, Tony is a lucky guy”, he grinned, blushing just the slightest bit.

“I think I can appreciate that compliment.”

“Hi Pepper.” Tony turned around and smiled widely at her, all dopey and lovestruck, a look Nat did not remember ever seeing on Cap's face.

“Tony”, she smiled back, “you're making progress?”

“Not really”, he admitted. “this is gonna take a while...”

“Alright, that means that Clint and you are in a bit of a pickle.”

“Why?”

“Because you, dear, have a presentation.”

“Can't you reschedule?”

“I tried, all day but nope. You'll have to go through that...”

Bruce waved over. “I have a lecture in three days.”

“And I have an appointment at the Department of Education”, Steve finished summing up all the impeding appointments.

“So, me and Bruce are fucked”, Tony summarized.

“Hey, I can do a great you”, Clint shot back.

“And I don't know that you'd be that convincing a Cap”, Steve added.

“I already fooled Fury.”

Once again, Nat got them to shut up with a nice, thunder-godly growl, before smiling back at Pepper. “We're gonna get these guys into shape, don't worry about that.”

“If I didn't have you”, she beamed and put her hand over her heart.

“Us girls just got each other's back”, Nat chuckled, aware how weirdly bizarre that must sound in Thor's deep voice.

“Wait”, Tony interrupted the women. “Cap, your Department of Education appointment... It doesn't happen to be in DC, does it?”

“It is”, Steve nodded. “Day after tomorrow.”

“Perfect”, Nat grinned, “you can go to SHIELD!”

“I don't suppose Fury'll let you measure that thing's brainwaves...”

“He will most probably not”, Tony agreed with Bruce and went back into technical terms and Natasha didn't even bother trying to follow what they were coming up with. Instead she shot Pepper another smile and leaned back on her bed.

If everything went completely perfect, she'd be back in her own body in two days time, on Thursday. And no time to soon; Steve really didn't look all that hot... He hadn't said it, but Nat knew her body well enough to recognize all the little signs that he was not only uncomfortable in the female skin but in pain as well. And, doing the Math, it was that time a month...

“Helen?”, Nat called over, interrupting the scientists. “Got a hot water bottle and some painmeds?”

“Of course, what's wrong, Natasha?”

“It's not for me”, she assured Helen and nodded over at her body. “Cramps.”

“Yeah, of course.” Cho started rummaging through a drawer, as Steve looked over at Nat, moving to ask the obvious question.

“I know my body”, she answered pre-emptively.

“Right”, he nodded and stopped the fight against giving in to the pain. “But I thought nothing's wrong with this body?”

“You're not gonna like this”, Pepper shrugged, “but the body is working like it's supposed to.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Omigod.” Tony looked from Pepper to Nat, who both decided to ignore him in favour of the super soldier, who still hadn't gotten that he was on his period.

“It means that you picked a hell of a week for this body swap”, Helen chuckled.

“What do you... Oh.” The penny seemed to have dropped as his eyes went wide and he blushed even more than Nat knew her body could blush.

Steve ignored everybody staring at him and grabbed the hot bottle Helen held out to him. “Thanks.”

“Of course”, she smiled. “I also got some pads down here.”

“Those aren't the things that go inside...”

“No”, Nat interrupted him, “just the underwear. And you'll wear them, or you get to buy me a whole new wardrobe”, she added with the fake-sweetest grin.

“Cap. You don't have to answer if you don't want to”, Tony asked. “But... Did they teach sex-ed back in the day?”

“Tony, they didn't teach sex-ed when we were in school, hell, in many schools they don't even teach it today”, Bruce answered in Steve's place.

“Good point”, Tony nodded.

“You guys gonna teach Steve about what it's like to menstruate, right?”, Nat shot back and was happy to see Helen and Pepper with similarly pissed off expressions on their faces, at which the guys shied back. “Thought so”, she grumbled before turning to Steve. “Pain, moodiness and cravings, that's pretty much what you can expect. You're lucky, my cramps normally don't get that bad, so you'll be alright.”

“Not that bad?”, Steve cried out. “You mean this could get worse?”

“Oh, honey”, the three women answered in unison and just shook their heads.

“Would you like me to explain to you what is currently happening to your body?”, Helen asked with the fakest smile.

“It feels like my innards are liquidizing themselves.”

“That's pretty much what's happening”, Pepper nodded.

“How do you do this every month?”, he moaned and winced, clutching his stomach.

“You know it's just starting, right?”

“If I ever spoke bad about women, I take it all back and I am eternally sorry.”

“We are all so grateful”, Nat deadpanned and looked back at Cho. “Fun week ahead of us.”

“I'm a bit scared to interrupt”, Bruce threw in, “but it looks like my body is waking up...” He pointed over at the bed Thor occupied and man, was that necessary right now? Was one overemotional superhuman not enough?

“He's on you”, she made clear, “I already got my hands full with that”, she added with a nod to the curled up Steve.

“Fair enough”, he shrugged and walked up to Thor, who groggily opened his eyes.

“Clint, friend, what happened?”, he asked in his dazed confusion.

“Thor, I need you to just stay calm. Do you remember the fight?”

“I do.”

“Well, something happened to us, we don't know what yet, but we all woke up in the wrong body.”

“This is preposterous”, Thor answered. His authoritative and confident tone was definitely unusual look for Bruce's usually so restraint and quiet self.

“You are currently inhabiting the body of me, of Bruce Banner. Which is why I need you to stay calm as to not hulk out on us”, he explained and slowly it seemed to dawn on the god. He looked down himself, down the much smaller body and shit, as realization hit him, a slight green shimmer flickered on his face.

“Buddy, everything's alright”, Bruce kept on repeating and shooting Thor a warm and reassuring smile. “We're at the tower, Helen already made sure that we're not hurt and we have everything we need to find a cure. And that is a promise”, he added emphatically.

“I trust you, friend”, Thor eventually got out and his skin went back to its normal hue.

“Thanks”, Bruce smiled.

“Though I am starving”, he remarked.

“Yeah, that's from hulking out.”

“It is truly a weird sensation...”

“It is just as truly a weird sensation to hear Bruce talk like that”, Clint chuckled, prompting Thor to turn around to the Avengers.

“That's Clint”, Bruce explained, “Tony is in Steve, Steve in Nat and Natasha is currently inhabiting your body.”

“That is... confusing”, Thor goggled, eyeing his body curiously.

“I know”, Nat agreed.

Thor's face just broke into a wide smile. “I am glad then, that a warrior of fierceness, swiftness and strength such as you, Natasha, is taking care of my body. It is an honour”, he added and Nat couldn't help the proud smile spreading over her face.

“Thank you, Thor. I will do my best to honour your being.”

“I have not a single doubt. I propose further convening after dinner, though.”

“Sure. If the doc's ok with it, us non-sciency Avengers can scour the kitchen.”

“Yes”, Helen nodded, “get Thor something to eat and we'll do our job.”

“Thank you, doctor”, Thor smiled as he got off the bed. “This body is slightly smaller than what I am used to”, he remarked after catching his balance again.

“Don't worry”, Bruce laughed, “you'll get used to it.”

.

After dinner, Thor retired rather quickly to his room, being still exhausted from hulking out. Clint was busy texting with Laura, explaining why he wouldn't call or come home these next few days.

Sitting by herself wasn't something Nat was keen on right now, though. Yes, she was used to being isolated, being on her own but ever since she joined SHIELD and now the Avengers, she got used to enjoy having people by her side.

So she went down to the lab, where Bruce was typing around on a keyboard. Steve was still curled up on the bed; he had refused to move earlier and Nat had just managed to catch herself before calling him a wuss. By now he was fast asleep though and Bruce was working by himself. He seemed to have switch the aids off again, he didn't hear Nat walking in and jumped as she suddenly stood in front of him.

“Sorry, I didn't want to scare you.”, Nat apologized and sat down on a chair on the other side of the experimenting table.

“That's alright”, he smiled, “I just prefer to work in silence.”

“Can't blame you... Where are Tony and Helen?”

“Tony went to get some supplies from his labs for the brain wave scanner he's building and Cho has an appointment tonight.”

“And how are you?”

He smiled tiredly. “No idea. I'm comparing brain waves and feel like screaming in frustration, but I don't want to wake Steve. What about you?”

“Just wanted to check on you. You do look like you could do with a break.”

“Yeah, well I feel like I could do with my own body”, he retorted.

“Yeah... Watching Steve like this”, she halfheartedly nodded at him, “is really unnerving...”

“In a weird way I know how you feel... Watching Thor almost hulk out earlier was strange to say the least.”

Nat couldn't help but laugh at them bonding over their bodies being unpredictable wrecks and the guys going through all that, infecting Bruce.

“Listen”, he signed after a while, looking all sombre and earnest. “I still owe you an apology and somehow it feels easiest to do that without talking and while you don't look like yourself... Probably I'm just a coward.”

What was he talking about? “First of all I don't think you're a coward, and secondly I have no idea what you want to apologize for. But, if it'd make you feel better, you can apologize to me again when we're wearing our proper skins.”

“I might just do that”, Bruce smiled. “But still. I don't think I ever apologized for Hulk almost killing you, back when we had Loki on the ship.”

Bruce had not. And Natasha didn't want him to; she did her all to forget that day being dragged across the helicarrier to her certain death, if it hadn't been for Clint... As sure as Natasha was that she wanted to get back into her body, she knew that she wanted nothing less than talking about that.

“I'm so sorry, Natasha, I can't even...”

“Please don't”, she interrupted, “please just... don't.” Ugh, Natasha hated feeling and sounding weak, maybe even more now that she was in a skin embodying strength and power. But if they started talking about that, she'd probably just break down and that was something she needed even less than this blond mess on her head.

Bruce was silent, looking at her with wide eyes. With Clint's wide eyes; the face she couldn't lie to.

“Can we please not talk about that? I appreciate what you're trying to do, but please no.”

Bruce nodded, still looking like a kid that just witnessed their parents fight for the first time.

Just as he motioned to answer, Tony walked back in, his arm full of tools and wires and shit. “Romanoff, you wanna help out?”

“Sure thing”, she forced herself to grin at him, just catching Bruce's face falling before he, too, forced a smile. Tony didn't seem to notice anything; Nat ran into him in his mechanic-moods often enough to know that all Tony managed to focus on was the project on hand and his coffein intake.

“I'll leave you to your work”, she signed to Bruce, Tony probably already forgot she was there, buried between wrenches and screws and cables. She wouldn't even put it past him to have forgotten he was in the wrong body. There was no malice, his brain was just focused on his work right now.

“Sure thing”, Bruce answered, “talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yeah”, she nodded and the smile she shot him as she walked past wasn't even all that forced.

“Yo”, she patted her body on the shoulder. “Rogers, wake up.”

“What's happening?” He almost immediately sat up and cased his surroundings, only relaxing when he realized where exactly he was. “Hey. I assume I didn't dream all this confusion up and you're actually Natasha.”

“Yup”, she nodded and helped Steve on his feet. “Come on, let the nerds do their job and I'm sure you'll sleep better in your bed.”

“Sounds right”, he agreed as they walked back upstairs together, but he stopped awkwardly before heading to his room.

“What's wrong?”

“I don't want to sound like a stereotype but I really feel like chocolate or something...”, he admitted with a nervous blush.

“Right. Hunk-a-hulk-a-burning-fudge is my go-to craving-remedy.”

“Sounds good to me”, he agreed and a few moments later they sat criss cross on a couch, a container of ice cream between them, the only sound being the clinking of spoons for a while until Steve's snorted laughter broke the silence. “This is so fucked up.”

“Steve!” Nat could not remember ever hearing Steve swear, let alone use the F-word!

“I can't in good conscience let Natasha Romanoff go for that long without swearing”, he grinned back and gobbled up another spoon of ice cream.

“Aw, Steve”, she cooed, “ that is so sweet of you! Unfortunately, I believe your body has sworn more in the last six hours than it did in the last six months...”

“Probably”, he laughed, “but Stark deserves it. I mean he, Helen and Bruce are the ones to get us out of this mess, so if it helps his genius-process, let him swear away.”

Nat chuckled and enjoyed some more of the ice cream and took the chance to really take herself in. When would she ever get the chance to properly inspect her body like that?

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“You got my face there”, she shrugged. “And I don't know, it's interesting to see myself from the outside.”

“I get that appeal, though I assume for an outsider it looks like Thor's oggling Natasha”, Steve shot back with a skew grin.

“Can't blame him”, Nat snickered, “I look good.”

“I feel compelled to thank you for that compliment...”

“You really never looked better.”

.-.-.-.-.

“CODE GREEN!”

Alarms going off all around ripped Bruce out of uneasy dreams. He never heard that one before; and after having fallen asleep crouched over his desk, his brain took a moment longer than usual to start.

“SHIT!” Tony was quicker to react, from the looks of it he probably hadn't gotten even five minutes of sleep. “JARVIS, Hulkbuster!”

Oh. Well, made that made sense given that it was called 'Code Green' and that Bruce had never heard of it; with him usually being the one causing the alarm... He hurried after Tony, and not even Clint's much fitter body managed to keep up with Steve's long legs. They were barely up the stairs, when Bruce heard the growls and screams he only knew from recordings, videos and his nightmares.

To see Hulk – himself – like that was so much worse than he'd hoped it be. Pure rage and hatred emanated from Hulk as he smashed his way around the giant living room.

That was him; that was Bruce right there. He felt all the colour draining from his face and if he didn't have a wall right behind him to lean on, he'd probably have dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Bruce could only stare with wide eyes, as the Iron Legion cornered Hulk, making it all a million times worse.

It took a couch crashing against the wall just beside  him to get Bruce out of his trance. Right. Bruce had caused the Hulk, maybe he could just calm Thor.

“Hey buddy”, he tried to smile as he walked up to Hulk, doing all he could to ignore the jelly-like feel of his knees.

“Bruce”, Tony whispered, “do you really thing this is a good idea?”

“Yes, please don't get my body broken”, Clint hissed, but Bruce decided to ignore them both; except for motioning for Tony to get the Legion out the way.

“Thor, I know it's weird to be in this body. And I know it's terrifying.” He walked up to him with his palms out and locked eyes. “But that's alright. We're all terrified, but at least we are all in this together. So please, my friend. I'm asking you to trust me.” With that he held out his hand and either he'd be smashed or they'd get Thor back. If Bruce was being honest,  he wouldn't mind either option.

But doubt came over Hulk's face and Bruce could watch the rage slowly dropping as Hulk looked down on Bruce's (well, Clint's) hands. “It's alright, buddy”, he assured him again with a smile, that wasn't even forced.

And the giant green hand came down. Not in a fast punch, but gently, Hulk put his hands in Bruce's, and the green colour started to fade. “Listen, I know you're gonna feel bad now, but I'm here. I got you, I promise.” And the transformation started. This was gonna be a bad thing and definitely not pretty. Bruce barely remembered turning back; often he just came to again in ripped or – mostly – no clothes, in a usually smashed building and no recollection of the last how ever long it was that he had been terrorizing people around him.

Hulk – or was it Thor already? - began to scream and buck, as every muscle in his body spasmed. His skin flashed between deep green and Bruce's normal less than white skin colour, as he curled himself together and shrunk down. “I'm right here, you're gonna be alright”, Bruce kept on reassuring Thor, who was going through some pretty painful shit right now. He knelt by his side and kept his hand on Thor's shoulder who did look almost completely human by now. Looking over at Bruce with wide eyes, there was only a last glimmer of green flickering over his skin, which too, quickly faded away.

“Friend, what happened?” It was barely a hoarse whisper, but more than Bruce usually managed to get out after hulking out.

“You just hulked out on us”, he explained, “but everything is alright again.”

“I am so sorry!”, Thor apologized over and over again, “I truly am.”

“Don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us”, Bruce added with a grin, before he turned to the Avengers. “Can someone get some clothes for the god of thunder?”

Only now Thor realized that Bruce's pyjamas he had borrowed did not survive the hulking activities and blushed immensely. “My apologies, dear friend, for bringing your body into such improper circumstances.”

“Please, nothing I haven't seen yet”, Bruce chuckled, before Clint threw bunch of clothes in their directions, which Thor gratefully took.

“Gotta say”, Tony nodded and patted Bruce's shoulder as Thor dressed himself, “could use you around for every unplanned hulk out.”

“Uh yeah...”

“Friend Stark is right”, Thor smiled, dressed again and most his wits collected. “Thank you, from the bottom of my... well, your heart”, he added with a chuckle.

“Of course”, Bruce smiled back, well, tried to smile back. All that just happened hit him like a wrecking ball and as grateful as he was about Thor being – more or less – himself again, a part of Bruce wished he'd never seen this. Yes, Hulk never had been some purely theoretical being that just took over every time Bruce blacked out, all the pain and destruction was very real, but being face to face with this rage, this monster; this monster that was him...

“Get him something to eat, as much calories and sugar as you can get; Thor's gonna need that”, Bruce instructed. “And you need to rest”, he added in Thor's direction. He could barely look at the tired and exhausted face smiling over at him; the face of the deadly killing machine that caused so much harm.

Bruce had to get out of there, needed a place where he could break down in private, and that as quickly as possible.

Fussing over Thor, nobody seemed to notice him slipping out. He made for upstairs, for the roof; fresh air was what he needed, and maybe no one would go looking for him there. Though it was more staggering than anything else, Bruce made it up, stumbling out the roof door and all but collapsed on the cement floor.

But not even out here, with all that fresh air, he could breathe. It felt like someone kept on tightening a vice around his chest, constricting, squashing his innards... Being out of breath was the only thing keeping him from screaming his lungs out, cry out all that anger, fear, the pain, especially that shame and self-loathing.

Slowly Bruce crawled forward; blinded by emotions he wasn't even sure where he went, but maybe, if he moved, his body would go back to listening to him... Who was he kidding, this wasn't even his body! It wasn't his body that scraped itself bloody on the rough concrete, it wasn't his body that felt sick with hatred and hurt; it wasn't his body that just wouldn't let him die...

Oh.

Bruce could die in this body; he could actually die... And there would be nothing; no pain, no Hulk, no hatred...

Somehow he got to a wall, leaned against it and just let all the thoughts and feelings flow; he had no strength in him to fight all that; what little strength he had left Bruce had to focus into not suffocating and not throwing up. He wouldn't fight the tears any more, that was a lost cause so he let the tears roll off his cheek and took a deep breath.

He could die. But he'd also kill Clint's ride in the process. Clint didn't seemed to be bothered by a different skin that much though... He just was that type of person that rolled with the punches and made the best out of a bad situation. And besides, he'd keep all his skills with bow and arrows, he could be the shooting Ironman or something...

Yes, Hulk would still be around, but it wouldn't be Bruce's problem. If his conscience would let him get through with that though... Who cared, Bruce'd be dead, he wouldn't have a conscience any more!

“Penny for your thoughts?” Blinded by his tears, Bruce didn't even bother to look up at who walked up to him. He didn't need to; Thor's booming voice was unmistakeable. Of course, Natasha had followed him up here. She knew Clint after all, better than anybody else did. All the little tells, they were as obvious to her as a neon sign.

“I'm not that cheap.”

“Good”, she chuckled, “don't sell yourself short.”

Bruce was not in the mood for small talk, he just wanted to be left alone. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying the view”, she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And you?”

“Take a wild guess.” Balled on the ground, with tears running down his cheeks and his knees and hands scratched and bloody, it really wasn't that hard a conclusion.

“You want to talk about it?”

Bruce just shook his head. He got it now; he got why Nat wouldn't accept his apologies, wouldn't want to talk about Hulk. That face... His face was just such a hate-filled grimace, no signs of humanity, not even the slightest bit. Bruce was pretty sure that the only reason he had managed to calm Hulk down earlier was because he had Thor inside. As quick as Thor was to anger, he was even faster to calm and trust those he held close. If Bruce had been in there... It would have been a very different story.

“Listen”, Nat continued, “I know I said I didn't want to talk about it. But I also know that you're hurting and... I don't know, man, I'm just worried about you.”

“Why? Cause I got to see what kind of killing machine I really am?”, he shot back and looked up at her. “Cause I had to once experience what you live through every time the big guy's around?”

“Is that what's going through your head right now?”

Screw this. “You were right, about not wanting to talk about it”, Bruce scoffed, letting all the bitterness sound through. He was still a little weary on his knees as he got up and walked past her to the door. Well, maybe she did deserve to know what he was thinking, if only for him to be affronting. So, before the door closed behind him, he turned around one more time and locked eyes with her. “What's actually going through my head, is that in Clint's body, I could actually die”, he stated honestly, turned around and behind him the heavy door closed with a loud echoing bang.

.-.-.-.-.

“Boss.” JARVIS' voice ripped Tony away from his work. And he hated nothing more than being interrupted whilst mid-project

“What?”, he grunted, barely looking up from the circuitry.

“Your phone has been ringing for the last ten minutes.”

“Huh?” Properly looking up and even putting his screwdriver down, he heard the repeated beeping of his phone.

“It is Colonel Rhodes”, J informed him.

Well, he wouldn't want to let his Platypus wait! “Put him through, then.”

“Finally”, Rhodey's voice echoed through the lab, “I know you love watching the line blink but I might just take this personally.”

“Darling, you know I love you more than any blinking line”, Tony grinned back, “I'm just busy in the lab, is all.”

“And why do you sound like Steve?”

“As if you don't know”, he scoffed back and was a little miffed that he couldn't shoot his friend the death glare through a voice call, especially when Rhodey started laughing only moments later. “Well, happy you're having fun with this bullshit.”

“Sorry”, he chuckled, “I really am. Yes, Pepper told me and maybe, just maybe, I am kicking myself for being on a business trip right now. I don't suppose you'll still be sporting the latest Super-Soldier-body next week?”

“Not if I've got anything to do with it”, Tony made clear. “I get to interview that thing Thursday, building a brainwave reader right now. And then we'll see.”

“Sounds like a plan. So, how are you doing?” And like that, Rhodey's voice went from totally amused and a little bit mocking to supportive and understanding.

“Well, I already got to watch as Pepper kissed my body, even though Barton was inside and I'm wearing the skin of the man that fucked up my childhood. How do you think I'm doing?”

Rhodey was besides Pepper the only person, Tony didn't even think before speaking; not telling the truth didn't even occur to him when talking to his honeybear.

“I get that... Maybe you should talk to Steve, let him know.”

“Well, he's definitely got bigger problems than my unresolved daddy issues, which aren't his fault. He was dead then, there's nothing he can do”, Tony sighed. It was a little unfair of him to hate Steve the way he did. Well, it probably wasn't hatred any more, but still.

“Do you want me to come home?”

What now? “Rhodey, I'm a grown man. I'm not some fifteen year old college student any more.”

“My duty of care did not end the day you turned 18, or 21. That duty will extend to the day either of us bow out. Well, until you do. Because rest assured if I die before you – and that's a big if – you can bet your pretty ass I'll haunt you if you don't look after yourself, so let me ask again: do you need me to come home?”

“Oh, honeybear!”, Tony cooed and he was admittedly a little lost for words and tearing up just a little bit, which he would vehemently deny if accused of that. “You don't. But I can't even tell you how much I love you for offering just that.”

“I love you, too. There's just one concern...”

“Yes?”

“Just because this body you're having now is young and enhanced, it doesn't mean you can work for 72 hours straight.”

Man, Rhodey just knew him too well, which was an amazing thing, of course. “Well, you'll be happy to know that I am only on hour... JARVIS, when did we get back from South America?”

“27 hours ago.”

“And two of those 27 hours I was being treated by Helen and shit, so I'm only on hour 25.”

“JARVIS”, Rhodey sighed, and Tony could see him shaking his head at that. “If he reaches 36 hours without sleep, you are hereby authorized to cut all the power to the lab.”

“Yes, I will”, JARVIS confirmed and Tony could only groan.

“J, you're my AI, not his.”

“As your AI, that is named and created after the person responsible to look after you, it is my foremost task to keep you as safe as I can”, he stated simply and Tony swore, he saw Jarvis, the human Jarvis, standing in the corner, his arms crossed and shaking his head at Tony.

“Fine”, he groaned. “Just remember: I built the first Ironmansuit in a cave in the desert in Afghanistan.”

“Tones, we're fucking worried about you”, Rhodey cried out. “You little shit are important to me, to Pepper, to JARVIS, so I don't give a fuck if you don't care about your life, because I do. How do you think I'll feel if you work yourself to death? So don't even think I'll apologize for having you locked out of the lab.”

Woah. That went a lot deeper than Tony had anticipated. Feeling a blush creeping up his face, he looked down, unsure of what he should say.

“I'm sorry”, he eventually mumbled, feeling like his 10 year old self being reprimanded by Aunt Peggy.

“I know you are. Just behave yourself and I don't have to feel like I'm mothering you.”

“Please, you love mothering me”, Tony shot back smirking.

“I shall neither confirm nor deny these accusations.” As stern as he tried to sound, Tony knew Rhodey was fighting hard to keep the grin down. “Listen, Ross is calling, I need to get back to work.”

“Do you need a rescue call in like half an hour?”, Tony laughed and delighted when Rhodey joined in.

“Ross already can't stand you, do you really want to push it?”

“Remember, I'm Steve right now. I can pull a lot of strings with the US army.”

“Tempting, very tempting”, Rhodey chuckled. “But as long as you are alright enough to do your job, I'll do mine. And talk to you soon, alright?”

“Yeah. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Tones.”

.-.-.-.-.

It was no surprise to Thor that he'd find Banner in the labs. He, Tony and Helen had barely left their microscopes, computers and machinery behind, working overtime to fix their unfortunate situation.

So focused on his work, Bruce didn't even seem to notice Thor calling out for him, not until he was right in front of the scientist.

“Thor, sorry, I didn't hear you”, he apologized and reached up to his ear. “Some of the machines are really loud and I prefer to work in quiet, so I switched the hearing aids off.”

“That I can understand”, Thor smiled and sat himself opposite Bruce.

“How can I help you then?”

“I have been informed that there is a presentation Bruce has to do, and I thought it prudent to ask you about the contents, so I might be a convincing Dr Banner.”

“Oh, that... You don't have to worry about that”, Bruce smiled, “I cancelled the lecture.”

“Oh.” Huh. Did he not think Thor capable enough? His hurt must have shown on his face, Bruce was quick to explain his reasoning. “This has nothing to do with you. But it's not just a presentation, it's a discussion panel and I can't teach you everything by tomorrow. Even if I could, I think it would help all of us so much more if I focused on reversing this.” He gestured between him and Thor.

“Right.” Thor still didn't fully buy what Bruce sold. Especially one little doubt was nagging in the back of his head. “Is it because of yesterday morning, when I hulked out on...”

“No, it's not”, Bruce interrupted. “You don't have to feel bad about that. Nobody is blaming you, least of all me”, he added with a smile. “It wasn't your fault.”

“I still feel guilty”, he admitted. He had destroyed so much property in only a few short minutes; if Bruce hadn't managed to calm him again... Thor truly did not want to know what would have happened, what he would have done to his friends. “If it weren't for my temper...”

“Buddy, I know exactly how you feel. And that's why you can believe when I say that it's alright.”

“Though I am aware that there is no reason to doubt your word, I still feel responsible and in all honesty, afraid.” It was true, Thor was scared to even raise his voice, out of fear he'd turn into that creature. Ever since yesterday's incident he had hidden himself away in his room, barely leaving it. He hated it with a passion, hated weakness and fear. He hated it almost as much as admitting to it. But if there was one person in this situation he could trust, it was Banner. “How are you not terrified?”

Bruce got off his chair and sat next to Thor on the bench. “I'm not scared of you. Why should I, as boisterous as you might be, you are even more loyal and trustworthy. Yesterday, when I talked Hulk down... I was only able to do that because you trusted me enough to let go of the fear. If it would have been anybody else, I don't know they would have been so quick to trust.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“I do”, Bruce nodded and locked eyes with Thor. “A good man might not be able to keep from hulking out, but he might be strong enough to trust to let go of Hulk.”

“Wow”, Thor smiled, “nicely said. And a very empowering philosophy.” If his friend understood it that way, then why shouldn't Thor? And if his friend truly believed him to be a good man, then there was no need for him to be afraid, was there? “It pains me to say this, but that would make you, my friend, the strongest Avenger...”

“Well”, Bruce laughed, “Hulk can't be killed, so this is sort of not that big an accomplishment...”

“I am not talking about Hulk”, Thor clarified. “I am talking about you, Bruce Banner and your strength. It is formidable, awe-inspiring to say the least.”

“Wait.” Bruce's expression changed into something somewhat annoyed, almost angry. “Did you talk with Natasha?”

“I have not”, he answered truthfully, confused as to what the doctor was insinuating. “Why?”

“Nothing”, Bruce quickly waved it off, but Thor could recognize the force behind his smile. “Thank you, for the compliment”, he got back on topic. “I'm not sure I believe it just yet, but thank you, nonetheless.”

“I speak only the truth.”

“I appreciate it.” The doctor flushed ever so slightly, and turned his face downwards, trying to hide his blush. It seemed, that Thor should not keep on praising the rather shy and restrained scientist; during his time on earth he has learned that, unlike Asgardians, many earthlings, like Banner, didn't like to boast with their accomplishments.

“So, it seems then that you shall not teach me about earthly physics”, Thor changed the topic and Bruce seemed to be grateful.

“You're welcome to stay, I could use another set of hands; Tony is so busy working on his scanner project, he's practically useless to me.”

“Huh?” Thor hadn't even realized that Stark, who now resurfaced between metal scraps and cables, was in the laboratory. “Heard my name. Oh, hi Thor. When did you get here?”

“Ignore him”, Bruce advised Thor, before waving Tony off. “Nevermind, get back to work.” With a grin and a shrug, Stark disappeared again.

“You don't have to stay, though”, Bruce turned back to Thor. “I'm sure there are more entertaining things to be done than comparing brainwave data.”

“Actually, I would like to see the work process”, Thor smiled enthusiastically. He truly was interested and had already been looking forward to learn from the doctor. And, even though it wasn't gamma radiation, brain activity was just as interesting a subject to study. “And if I can be of any help, I'll gladly support you.”

“Right then, let me show you what I'm doing.” Bruce motioned for Thor to join him in front of a big monitor, over which waves of different heights, widths and colours danced. “Those are our results, these here are yours.” He pointed at a yellow line. “Now I'm just trying to find where our waves overlap with the electrical current of the goo. That's the brown one.”

“What do you hope to achieve?”

“I hope to find the points of overlapping activity to see which points of our brains it's attacking.”

“Ah, I see”, Thor nodded, “if we know where our psyche is being attacked, we know where to inhibit it's influence on us.”

“Exactly”, Bruce smiled. “Well, let's get to it, then.”

.

“Hey, I've been missing you all afternoon”, Natasha smiled at Thor, as he made his way into the common room.

“I have been in the laboratories with Bruce, deciphering our brainwaves. And now I see colourful wavey lines dancing in front of my eyes”, he reported, before sitting down on the couch opposite her and Captain Rogers. As interesting as it had been to work with Banner, it was incredibly taxing on Thor's brain. He truly had no idea how the scientist Avengers worked on things like that for hours, no, for days on end.

“Impressive”, Nat praised him. “I've been looking after this one all day.” She nodded at Steve, who had a container of Hunk-a-hulk-a-burning-fudge in his hands.

“I'm a disaster”, he explained, sniffling ever so slightly.

“Captain, don't be saddened! We all have challenges in our new bodies, there is no need to be melancholic.”

“He's not”, Natasha explained, “he's hormonal and has no clue how to handle that.”

“Oh. I see”, he nodded. Natasha's body seemed to be even more of a challenge than Bruce's was for Thor... “I already praised Banner for being the strongest of us all, with him having to deal with the Hulk, but I assume that you, Natasha, and all the other women, are just as strong, if not more, having to deal daily with difficulties that have even the strongest warriors crying and in pain.”

“Thank you, Thor”, she smiled.

“I completely agree”, Steve nodded. “Women are fierce!”

.-.-.-.-.

“Hi Pepper!” Tony's voice ripped her away from her paperwork. Right, it wasn't Tony, it was Clint, who now sat down opposite her.

“Clint, great. I tried everything to cancel that presentation that Tony has tomorrow, but no chance. You'll have to get through that.”

“As long as you tell me what I need to say, I should do just fine.”

“It's not just that though.” The real Tony strutted into Pepper's office and smiled at her with wide beaming eyes, before turning Clint. “You gotta be me. Attitude and all.”

“Please”, Clint scoffed, “if you can be demure and shit like Rogers, I can be like you.”

“Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it”, Tony waved him off, but didn't grace him with too much of a side glance. Instead he didn't break eye contact with Pepper. And it was so weird.

Pepper had to repeatedly tell herself that it was not Steve that shot her these heart eyes and that it was not Tony that tried to avoid looking at her.

“Ok, we need to get you guys back into your skin”, she just shook her head after a while.

“No arguments from me”, Clint grinned. “Let's get through this one first, though.”

“Good idea”, Pepper nodded, broke away from Tony's look and turned to Clint. “It's not too difficult though, you got the entire talk on these index cards.” She put them down in front of Clint and he leafed through them, before looking back up at her.

“So, I need to be trained in 'How To Be Tony Stark?' I mean, I've seen how you act in front of a camera for years on end. Be dangerously self-confident, insolent and don't give two shits about authorities.”

“That sums it up nicely”, Pepper chuckled.

“Right”, Tony grumbled, “the magic is doing all that and still being a beloved public figure.”

“I thought all those investor-dudes can't stand the sight of you”, Clint shot back with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess they don't”, Tony shrugged.

“There will be press though”, Pepper threw in, before Tony could make some comment about Clint not needing to give a shit about the presentation. “And it's not investors; you don't want their money. You will present the newest arc-reactor upgrades to SI shareholders, a bunch of scientists and therefore you might not want to make them hate you, or well, Tony. At least not any more than they already do.”

“I think I can do that”, he nodded, adding with a grin: “I'm a charming person.”

“Tony tells me that every time I brief him on his presentations. And well, you know how that usually plays out.”

“Hey!”, Tony protested, “I'm a charming person to be around!”

“No, you're not”, Pepper and Clint agreed. “I still love you, though”, she added and Tony was once again all smiles.

“That's honestly all that matters”, he beamed.

“So”, Clint interrupted their romantic eye contact, “you regularly tell Tony what you're telling me today?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Pepper turned to Clint with a shrug. “Unless it's about his iron suits, Tony's got the attention span of a gold fish. And like you so nicely said, he can't be bothered to give two shits not only about authority, but also PR. Making my life so much harder”, she sighed.

“You still fell in love with me”, Tony grinned, leaning back in the chair.

“Alright.” Clint cleared his throat. “I'm gonna leave you two alone and read through this.” He waved with the index cards and awkwardly got up.

“Thank you, Barton.”

“Yeah, least I can do since you're working to get us out of this shit”, Clint grinned and, with a last wave, he left Pepper's office.

“Yeah”, Tony cleared his throat, “I'd better get back on that. Before this”, he gestured between them, “gets any worse. Who am I kidding”, he snorted a laugh, “we probably got enough cause for couple's therapy as it is, without Steve wanting to be with you...”

Tony definitely had a point. “Agreed”, she nodded. “Though I might just be 12% attracted to Steve...”

“Alright”, he laughed and got up. “Will that be all Ms Potts?”

“Yes”, she beamed up, “that'll be all.”

.-.-.-.-.

After going through the presentation index cards for the third time, Clint could have sworn his brain had turned to goo. He let the cards drop and sprawled himself out, resting his head in Nat's, well, Thor's lap.

“Sounds like the genius IQ was not transferred with Stark's body”, she remarked, not looking up from her book though.

“I mean, can you lift the hammer?”, he shot back.

Tasha stilled for a moment, but barely long enough to recognize it. At least if you didn't know her like Clint did. “We both know I'm not worthy”, she eventually shrugged.

“Maybe it's better that way”, he grinned up at her and finally she glanced down and locked eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I would hate if you had to move to another planet to rule it. I mean, that'd be one sucky commute.”

“Yes, it would be”, she chuckled, before giving her attention back to the story she was reading.

Unsure what else to do, Clint grabbed his phone, intent on daddling around a bit. But his lockscreen picture had him stop: It was taken only a few weeks ago, by Nat actually. Cooper was climbing up Clint's back, grinning cheekily over his shoulder; Laura leaned against his chest, cradling Lila.

Clint just had to talk to his wife. They had only messaged so far, to keep the confusion as minimal as possible, but that just wouldn't do any more. So, consequences be damned, he pressed the call button and only three beeps later, Laura picked up.

“Clint? Is it you?”

“Hey honey”, he sighed, feeling so much better for hearing her voice. “yeah. I know I sound like Stark but it's me.”

“I think I might be able to get over that”, she chuckled. “How are you doing?”

“So good now that we're talking. How are you and the kids?”

“We're alright. You are dearly missed, though.”

“I miss you guys, too.” Clint could start crying any moment now, this sucked majorly. She didn't look down, but a hand came down, gently patting his head. Tasha just was the best friend anybody could ever ask for...

“Are things moving forward at least?”

“No idea, honestly... For now I need to officially be Tony Stark, got to do a presentation about the arc reactor...”

“Oh my”, Laura laughed, the most heavenly sound he had ever heard. “You're gonna do a scientific presentation?”

“Hey!”, he protested, “not fair! I'm smart...”

“Sorry, honey”, she chuckled, “I know you are. You're the smartest husband I've ever had.”

“Haha”, he deadpanned, before he couldn't keep the chuckles down any more.

“You're gonna do just well, I completely believe in you.”

“Thanks. Oh by the way, Nat says hi.”

“Who is she again? Will I have an eternal shock when I say hi to her?”

“Probably”, he chuckled and handed the phone over to Nat. “Laura wants to talk to you.”

“Alright. Hey, Laura. Yes, I am Thor. I'm glad you're enjoying this”, she deadpanned and switched on the speaker. Laura's laughter filled the room, and Clint couldn't help but chuckle along to this most heavenly sound.

“The only thing better than that is that Steve is in Tasha's body, menstruating at the moment”, he laughed.

“Oh, that poor guy. Clint, you don't get to make fun of somebody's period.”

“Thank you, Laura, I've been telling him that all week.”

“Good. It's not like you need my permission, but if you deem it necessary go all god of thunder on his ass.”

“Permission appreciated.”

“Uhm, no?”, Clint threw in, “definitely not appreciated!”

“You're right”, Laura nodded, “Nat doesn't need to be a Norse god to kick your behind from here to Budapest.”

“That's true”, he admitted, looking up at his friend. “I'm definitely more afraid of the ginger Russian than blondie from the Maybelline poster.”

“That's because you're smart”, Tasha grinned.

“And that is smart enough to absolutely rock that presentation tomorrow.”

“Thanks, honey”, Clint grinned.

“So, it sounds like Lila is up. I'll go check on her, you get enough rest and call me after the presentation to tell me how great you did, ok?”

“Promise. Tell Lila and Cooper that their dad loves them so much and will soon be home again.”

“Same goes for Auntie Nat.”

“I'll tell them. The three of us love you, too.”

“Him or me?”, Tasha grinned.

“Nat, you know you'll always be the love of my life”, Laura chuckled. “But Clint, I love you, too.”

“Wow”, he deadpanned and met Nat's smirk head on. “Well, I got to kiss Pepper.”

“Excuse me, you did what?”

“Isn't Lila calling?”, Clint shot back instead.

“Right then. I still love you.”

“I love you, too.”

.

“Alright, Clint.” Pepper patted his shoulder with a reassuring smile. “You're gonna do just fine. You got the notes, be a little overconfident and nothing can go wrong.”

Right. He could do this. He could be Tony Stark, no problems. He gave Pepper the thumbs up and she gently pushed him towards the stage entrance. Shoulders squared, he strutted out on the stage. Luckily there were so many lights on him that he couldn't see how full the audience was.

“Good evening and hello”, he greeted everybody. “I'm assuming you all know who I am, otherwise you wouldn't be here.” That got him a chuckle and it seemed like everything was off to a good start.

He leaned against the lectern and, in the most Tony Stark-like fashion he could, he glanced over his glasses into the room, before taking a first look at his index cards. “Since not everybody might be caught up on what keeps me alive, let me give you a crash course in my magnetically powered heart.”

All night long, Clint had studied what was on these cards, so he could speak as freely as possible about something that, according to everybody in this room, was the one thing he knew more about than anything else.

It wasn't like he understood what any of these cards said, Clint wasn't even sure all of it was English, but as long as he only had to read them out, he'd be alright.

It was admittedly a lot of fun. Clint wasn't exactly the most boisterous person on the planet, but somehow that just came with the body and soon enough, he could just pepper in a few jokes here and there.

“The following I will keep to myself, because, well, if you knew, you might be able to give me a heart attack and I just know that there are a handful of investors and members on my board that can't wait for that to happen to me. Yes, I see you, Justin Hammer”, he winked and a laugh went through the room. The more his jokes landed, the cockier he got, he had to admit that. But the time flew by, and Clint didn't realize how far through the presentation they were, until he got to the last index card.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you know that I am smarter than you. Thanks for listening and until next time!”

After a few exaggerated bows, Clint walked off stage, where Pepper was already waiting with a proud smile. “Fantastic job, Clint.”

“Really?”

“Yes”, she nodded. “You were almost as obnoxious as Tony, read through all the information perfectly and your stand-up isn't half bad.”

“Thanks”, he grinned back, feeling his cheeks blushing. “It was actually a lot of fun.”

“It did look like it was. You can be proud, you were fantastic up there.”

“Well, I assume it's safe to say that you're slightly biased there...”

“No, because Tony wasn't up on that stage there, that was a lot of work that you put into this presentation, more than Tony ever did. Maybe you should stick like that, it would make at least my job a lot easier.”

No, he needed to be Clint again, asap. He wanted to go home, wanted to kiss his wife, hug his children and never ever talk about arc-reactors and shit again. “I appreciate the compliment, but I think we're all better fitted where we belong.”

“Also true. Right then, I need to take care of everything here, you're free to get back to the tower and join Natasha in looking after Steve, stress on looking after, not teasing”, she added.

“Don't worry, I won't”, he nodded, “promise.”

“Off you go then. And thank you, so, so much! Saved us all a world of pain.”

Clint tipped his imaginary hat, turned around, where Nat was already standing. “What are you doing here?”

“I watched you presentation, you doofus.” She boxed his arm and motioned for them to walk back together. “You did good. Very Stark-like.”

“Thanks. All the cameras, lights and attention kinda goes straight to your head, it's incredible.”

“You gonna get a big head now?”

“Yes”, he deadpanned. “I'm gonna be the next genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

“Remember, I have your wife's approval to go all god of thunder on your ass”, Nat reminded him.

“I know you do. And I would like to leave you be right now and call that same wife and tell her how awesome and smart her husband is.” He shot Nat a grin and headed straight for the privacy of his room and the wonderfulness that was hearing Laura's voice.

.-.-.-.-.

This was ridiculous. Steve felt like a caricature come to life, as he gobbled up chocolate ice cream, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch. He had actually bawled his eyes out, when they watched some cartoon movie about lions last night. Shit, he felt himself already tearing up again, when he thought about Simba, mourning his dad... Thankfully, Tony barged in, before Steve could lose himself some more in all these freaking hormones and emotions.

“Rogers, lets make this quick so I can get back into the lab and finish my work before heading to DC tomorrow.” He dropped opposite of Steve on the couch, and looked at him expectantly. “What's gonna happen to me there?”

“No idea, actually”, he shrugged and put the container down. “They never tell me what exactly they want to do. Sometimes it's just a photo-op, recording a PSA or something...”

“PSAs? Really?”

“Yeah”, Steve shrugged. “They're admittedly super cheesy.” Embarrassingly so, actually... Steve felt himself blushing.

“What kind of contract do you have there?”

“They approached me shortly after I thawed out and asked me if I was willing to use my celebrity status as an educational figure, PBS style. I'm basically their Elmo.”

“That is kinda depressing”, Tony stated after a moment. “They tell you jump and you ask how high?”

“I guess... But helping out teachers and students isn't a bad thing and that's why I accepted.”

“That's noble”, Tony nodded.

Steve didn't buy that. Tony was the exact opposite of what this campaign stood for! “You don't think it's noble, you think it's boring.”

“It can be both”, Tony grinned back.

“Oh really? How do you think you can properly sell this, while thinking you're above all that?” Steve felt his voice (well, Nat's voice) pitch higher, but he didn't care, he was angry at Tony. Why wouldn't he be, Steve was building up his life again in a world so foreign to him, and Tony ridiculed it all!

“Steve”, Tony held his hands out, “I seriously think it's great what you're doing for students all over the country.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course”, Tony nodded with a wide smile. “I do. And I'll do my best tomorrow, I promise.”

“Thank you”, Steve smiled and his chest felt all warm and fluffy. He was so touched that Tony would take this so seriously. “It means everything to me.”

“Yeah, alright”, Tony nodded and moved to leave for, probably the lab, again.

“Are you?”

“What?” He paused and turned back to Steve.

“Are you alright?”, he repeated his question. Something felt weirdly off, and he didn't mean his horrible mood swings.

“I'm just stressed, is all”, he shrugged it off, but Steve didn't buy it.

“You sure?”

“Rogers”, Tony groaned and crossed his arms. “Don't start something you don't want to.”

“I don't want to force you to talk”, Steve shrugged. “But if you have an issue with me or my body, I'd like to help out any way I can to make it better.”

“Nice offer, but I don't think you can. So, unless you have anything against that, I'd like to get back to my lab and into my body, before Pepper has to fall in love with you, too.”

“Too?”

“Fuck”, he sighed and stopped. Still had his back turned to Steve, but he didn't motion to storm off anymore. “My Dad.”

It was a quiet mumble, but Steve was sure he didn't mishear him. “Howard?”

Tony turned to Steve, his face as rigid as that of a statue and a hard expression. “My entire childhood I got to compete with you, a then still dead guy, for my Dad's attention. I lost. Whatever I did, it couldn't compare to the Amazing Captain America, Howard's greatest ever creation. But hey, all in the past”, he scoffed with a shrug.

“Oh, Tony... I'm so sorry!” Steve felt the tears rising in his eyes, but that didn't matter. How the hell could any father do that to their son?

“Yeah, whatever”, Tony waved it off.

“No, not whatever”, Steve made clear and walked up to him. “I am really sorry and I can't even imagine how much you must have hated me. And I can't even fault you, if you still do.”

“Well, it's not hatred anymore.” Tony offered Steve a half-hearted smile. “I did however spend the last few days cursing that fucking Alien. Even though your body is younger and enhanced”, he added with a scoff.

“If it makes you feel any better, the last few days I've been feeling similarly horrible as before the serum.”

“It does a bit”, Tony admitted with a grin.

“Good. I don't know if there's anything I can do to help you to feel better around me, and if it is to punch me in the face, I'll be happy to let you do that. But, knowing both you and Howard, I can definitely say that you're the way better man by far.”

“Thanks”, Tony smiled, and it looked like a real smile, “that means a lot.”

“Good. Now I have this urge to hug you, even if it might be weird to hug my own body”, he grinned.

“Yeah, no”, he shook his head. “Let's not push it.”

“Of course”, Steve nodded and sat himself back on the couch, where the hot water bottle and the ice cream already waited for him. “Thank you, though. For being honest with me. Means everything.”

“Right.” Tony clearly was not used to this sort of compliment and he looked a little awkwardly, before nodding at him again and walking out of the common room.

Huh. This whole body swap was really a lot more taxing on everybody's psyche, issues and their relationships than Steve would have ever imagined... Well, at least these things were out in the open now. And maybe, one day, they'd get this sorted out.

.-.-.-.-.

“Mr Rogers!” Tony was greeted by a young woman with a wide beaming smile. “I'm so sorry, I know you usually deal with Mrs Carrigan, but she has an urgent appointment out of town and can't be with us today. I am Cecily Myers and I hope you don't mind working with me for the day.”

“Of course not, it is wonderful to meet you. And of course I understand, Mrs Carrigan” - whoever that was - “is a busy woman.”

“Thank you, for your understanding. So, if you would follow me, Mr Rogers.”

“Please, call me Steve”, Tony 'corrected' her and shot her a warm smile.

“Right then Steve. Shall we?”

They went up an elevator and along a wide, light filled corridor, until they reached what looked like a makeshift movie set.

“Steve, you can change into your suit in the room over there”, Cecily explained. “In the meantime we'll set everything up. Oh, I'm so sorry for not asking before hand, but can I offer you something? A coffee, maybe?”

“That would be very kind, thank you.”

“I'll get right on that, then.” With a last smile, she hurried off, disappearing in the masses of people, who all turned around to Tony with varying degrees of starstruckness, greeting and waving excitedly.

That, Tony was used to and he waved back, all smiles with every shy greeting he got, as he made his way to the room, Cecily had pointed out to him. Tony had no idea what he was about to do here, it looked like they were going to shoot a video. But Tony was just gonna let all that come at him. He was already in the wrong fucking skin, what else could they throw at him?

“Mr Rog... Steve, everything alright?” Cecily knocked at the door.

Well, Cap's suit was definitely harder to put on than his Ironsuit, and he could definitely use a hand. But he shouldn't ask the girl out there, she already seemed to be in way over her head and a shirtless Captain America was not gonna help the situation. “I'll only be a moment”, he called back and squeezed into the tight leather.

When he finally managed to get out, she awaited him with a cup of steaming coffee and a wide smile.

“Thank you, Cecily”, he smiled and gratefully took the cup. “It's delicious”, Tony lied after taking two or three sips and forced the disgusted expression down.

“Then I'm glad.” She directed Tony towards two chairs and motioned for him to sit down. “While they finish setting everything up, I'm going to brief you on today's mission”, she grinned.

“Wow, you know the lingo”, Tony chuckled, and the girl blushed slightly.

It was almost adorable, well it would be, if she wasn't fangirling about Cap right now. He wasn't as bad as Tony had always thought he was, though he still forced himself to not like Howard's idol. Sure, he got the appeal, if only the idolization of Captain America, the US' most beloved and decorated war hero...

“Anyways”, she cleared her throat. “We want to shoot three more PSAs with you today. The ones we have recorded already played in schools all over the country and the reception was quite positive. So much so, that teachers have submitted topics they think important and necessary. Those are profanity, healthy sleeping patterns and substance abuse.”

Oh, they had to be fucking kidding him! Tony, recording PSAs about not swearing, not staying up for 36 hours at a time and fucking doing drugs? The god of irony really had it out for them these last few days...

“Sure”, he forced himself to stay calm and collected and not snort out at the idea of him telling kids not to say fuck. “Our teachers know best what their students' issues are and I can see those things negatively affecting children.” I also know from personal experience that all that makes for a mind-numbingly boring existence. Fine, Tony was aware that his lifestyle wasn't healthy, but there was a reason they asked Cap to do this, and not Ironman.

“Exactly. We really appreciate the schools' feedback and of course strife to make their jobs the easiest we can.”

Wow, that sounded like it was verbatim taken from the Department of Education's website. It probably was; that girl wasn't older than 25 and looked like she never had to do more than get somebody a coffee. And now, being in charge of a widely known and popular figure, she had to give it her all to sound convincing and as if she had done this all her life.

“Yeah... Listen.” He lowered his voice and leaned a bit closer in, trying to get her to open up to him, to loosen up. “I know I've done this a few times, but I think I might be a little nervous...”

“Really?”

No, not at all.

“I don't know, I just... I'm not used to all this”, he gestured vaguely around the room, at the cameras. “I'm a soldier”, he shrugged. “All the cameras and interviews and things... Besides all that modern technology I don't really understand... It feels like I'm a fish on dry land.”

“I didn't expect that at all, if I'm being honest.”

How much further should Tony go until he was laying it on too thick? “It's just... Mrs Carrigan can be quite scary”, he whispered, hoping to God that this woman he had never met and never even heard of was not a nice and gentle lady.

“Yeah, she can get intense”, Cecily chuckled and Tony was very glad that his bluff didn't just blow up. “As her PA I know that better than anybody...”

“Of course”, he smiled. “Well, I just get the feeling you and I will work wonderfully together, without her.”

“Yeah”, she agreed with a beaming smile. “I do, too.”

“We're ready!”, one of the camera guys called and Tony gulped down the last bit of this disgusting coffee and took his stance by the chair, they had propped up in the middle of the makeshift stage, in front of a green screen.

“For this one we'll digitally add a classroom into the background, so if you'd just sit on the chair, and read out the cards we have here, that'd be perfect”, some guy who hadn't introduced himself but Tony assumed to be the director, gestured wildly around. Tony wasn't exactly sure what that guy tried to communicate with his waving, but it'd be best to just smile and nod along. And the sooner he'd get through this, the sooner he could get to SHIELD and find out what he came to DC for.

Tony gave him the thumbs up and sat himself down, trying to look as authoritative and stern as he could.

“That's perfect. And please in three, two one...” With a wave, the director motioned for Tony that the recording started and Tony read out what was on the poster in front of him.

“Hi, I'm Captain America. And today I'd like to talk to you about an enemy that has forced it's way into our classrooms, our society, and is intent on breaking our proper American values. Yes, I'm talking about swearing.” Oh fuck, this was so cheesy! “You might think it's cool, but what you see as edgy, comes across as hurtful, disrespectful or offensive. So, take it from a soldier that even on the front lines, respect is the one thing that keeps us united.” And that straight up did not make any sense.

“And cut!”, the director yelled. “Good job, Cap”, he called out in Tony's direction, didn't take his eyes off the screen in front of him, though. “Give us a moment and we'll continue with the next one.”

Tony was ushered off the set and some furniture and some lamps were moved around.

“That was pretty good”, Cecily praised him, coming up to his side.

“Thank you. It's not as bad as I remembered it”, he smiled.

“And that's all I can hope for. Looks like they're ready for you again.” She nodded towards the set and gave him an encouraging nudge to the shoulder. Confiding in her had really helped her and she looked so much more confident than she had barely thirty minutes ago. That was something Tony was already more proud of than all the horrible videos they were shooting.

This time, he was directed to lean against a table, and once again look straight at the camera as he read out: “Hi, I'm Captain America. As someone who has been asleep for 65 years, I know how important a regular sleeping pattern is. Your brain and body need their time to rest and to recharge. Eight hours every night make for a fit, healthy and smart student. And a tired zombie won't do you any good on the battlefield or the classroom, trust me; I've had my fair share of those.”

“And cut!”

Tony couldn't even remember the last time he had slept eight hours consecutively... He probably didn't even get to eight if he added the last few days up... But there was no time for Tony to dwell on it, they almost immediately had him propping his foot up on a chair, holding the shield into the camera and reading out:

“Hi, I'm Captain America. And today, I would like to talk to you about drugs. You might have seen a lot about using on television, maybe even some of your friends tried to tell you how cool it is to smoke weed. But take it from someone who has been frozen for 65 years: drugs aren't cool. Drugs attack your neural system and can fundamentally change and screw up your body's chemistry. It is about as cool as flying an airplane into the Arctic Ocean. It's not. So, be cool about it and don't do drugs.”

“And cut! Thank you, that's a wrap on Captain America!”

Everybody in the room started clapping and for a short moment, Tony was tempted to bask in the praise, until he remembered that Steve wasn't that big on attention. Which was a contradiction in itself: why then would he run around in a bright red, white and blue leather suit?

“Thank you”, he smiled around the clapping people and made straight for Cecily who greeted him with a wide and warm smile.

“Great job, Steve.” She patted his shoulder and the praise made Tony flush a little bit.

“Thank you”, he smiled back, “couldn't have done it without you.”

“Of course you could have”, she shook her head and turned it ever so slightly, so Tony wouldn't catch her blushing. “Right, you can change back into your normal clothes if you'd like.”

Tony very much would like to do that; as good as the tight suit looked on him, he just had that thing about leather and was happy to get back into simple jeans and a shirt. Although... Properly inspecting himself in the mirror like that, maybe, just maybe, Tony would need to make a few tweaks on the suit, once Steve had his body back. Because that suit right here? Did nothing for his ass. Nothing at all. And hey, if you got it, flaunt it, right?

It wasn't too much later, when Cecily escorted Tony back to the parking lot, where he had parked Steve's motorbike.

“Thank you again for your time and for loaning us your face”, she chuckled.

“If it helps keeping America's kids on the right path, then that's all the thanks I need.” Wow, Stark, putting it on a bit thick here.

“That is all we can hope for.”

“Well, I for one believe that our children are in good hands.” With a wide smile, he held his hand out to her. “Thank you for your support. And next time you need my face...”

“We won't hesitate to call”, she grinned back and shook Tony's hand.

“That, and I also expect the title of PA only to be left on your resumée. You're too good for just making coffee”, he assured her as she motioned to argue. “Anyways, I'll hope to see you here next time.”

“Thank you, Steve”, she smiled and this time didn't even bother to hide her blushed face. “I'm already looking forward.”

.

“Cap, what the hell are you doing here?”, Fury demanded to know. “You're still under medical lockdown!”

Alright, time to be the most convincing Steve Tony could be. “Cho cleared me for my appointment at the department of education and to come here. But I'm sure you already knew that.”

“Come on, then.” Tony could have sworn he saw a hint of a grin on Fury's face, before he turned and led Tony through the corridors. “We've been trying for the last two days to crack this thing, get it to talk, but to no avail. Maybe you're luckier.”

“I don't believe it has anything to do with luck...” That was as snarky a retort as Tony dared to go without blowing his cover.

“Oh is that so?” Fury stopped and looked him dead in the eye. “Then pray tell, what does the amazing Captain America have that SHIELD doesn't?”

For starters a brainwave reader, able to compare the Avenger's data with whatever that thing might omit. Furthermore, Tony's brainpower. “Two days of rest”, he answered instead.

“Good point.” And silently they continued on their way.

Somehow this was weird. Even weirder than the last few days have been already. And it wasn't just that Tony, who had never really been at SHIELD's HQ, was now supposed to be a person regularly going in and out here; Tony had more than enough confidence to pull this off. But Fury... he seemed off. Maybe the Avengers weren't the only affected ones. Or somebody was playing some giant fucked-up trick on Tony. Well, there was an easy way to find out the truth...

“Listen Fury, I feel like I need to apologize for Stark's...”

“Insolence? Impossibility?”, Fury suggested and Tony did not appreciate that. Fine, he didn't really give two fucks about chains of command or authority, but still...

“I was gonna say antics. He told me about you, trying to get him to join the Avengers, but first had to bribe him to get down from that giant decorative hot dog.”

“Yeah, that was something...” Fury just rolled his eyes. Or whoever pretended to be Fury.

Right now it was perfect to be in a body was strong enough to pin Fury against a wall. Tony might have managed to do that in his own body, but Steve was strong enough to actually keep the man in place. “Who are you? And where's Fury?”, he hissed.

“Counterquestion: Who are you and where is Cap?”, he shot back, completely calm, not the slightest waver of confusion or annoyance in his voice.

“What?” Tony was just about to lose himself in the spiral of being caught and about to be locked up, when he realized something. Fury hadn't denied his accusation. “I asked first.”

“Rogers, let go.” Hill came up behind him, shaking her head.

“Not until I know who this is, because it for sure ain't Fury.” Wow, being Cap didn't necessarily come with respect for authority...

“It's not. It's Maria. I'm Fury”, she answered instead. “And she now owes me ten bucks.”

“You were switched, too.” Tony wasn't sure whether it was a question or a statement, but he let go of Maria and took two steps back.

“You guys weren't the only ones that got doused in that glibber”, Maria explained, got a bank note out of her pocket and handed it over to Fury with a groan and an eye roll. “We had a bet, whether you'll see through it or not. And you're Stark, aren't you?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. What gave me away?”

“The story about the hot dog. I assume it was a test, and I failed it.”

“Yeah”, Tony chuckled. “Had my suspicions, needed them confirmed.”

“Good for you”, Fury interrupted, before waving at them, “after me”, and disappeared into an office two doors over. “Here we can properly talk in private without anybody listening in”, he explained, once Maria had closed the door behind her. Even though he was in a much smaller body, Fury didn't exude any less confidence and he had that authoritative aura; even though Maria's body almost disappeared in the giant chair and desk, Nick still owned the room.

“So, first things first. Who is who?”, he asked.

“Well, I'm in Cap, Cap's in Natasha, Natasha is in Thor, Thor is in Bruce, Bruce is in Clint and Clint's in my body”, Tony summarized, before making himself comfortable on one of the chairs. “Next question: why didn't you say anything on the helicarrier?”

“I could ask you the same thing”, Maria answered, crossing her arms in front of her chest and Tony had to say in all honesty that, like with Nat in Thor's body, the new massive, muscular bulk of a man was not what intimidated Tony, it was very much the woman inside that was scary.

“I asked first”, he grinned back.

“Stark, please. You're in our house”, Fury made clear, not really leaving room for that much of an argument.

“Fine... We very simply didn't want to be SHIELD's lab rats, being probed and tested and shit and – no offence – me, Bruce and Helen are smarter than your guys.” Ok, maybe a little offence... “And you?”

“We didn't tell anybody here for the same reason”, Hill explained. “And we didn't tell you guys, because, well, you definitely do not work well under supervision.”

“What, so you just let us do all the hard work and piggyback off our results?” Tony was almost insulted; though they weren't wrong. But still. “Dance, monkey, dance, huh?”, he scoffed.

“No”, Maria made clear. “When I came over to you guys on the heli, I was intend on telling you, so we could work together and figure something out. And you were so clearly switched too; I mean, Matt Murdock could have seen that. But you didn't say anything, didn't trust me, well Fury. So I didn't say anything either”, she shrugged.

“Oh... Yeah, sorry about that then...”

“Let's leave the past in the past.” Fury leaned over on his desk. “I assume you got something, or you wouldn't have come.”

“Yeah, we think we might...” Tony put his bag on the table, and go out the device they had worked up. “We measured all our brainwaves and Cho and Banner, with Thor's help, found a few interesting things in there that didn't make a lot of sense to them. So, we built this little machine that would be able to, well not measure per se, but receive enough of that thing's brainwaves for us to do a comparison on. If we have that, we can put the goo in the mix and hopefully reverse engineer this psycho-switch.”

“Damn”, Fury nodded after a few moments of pensive silence. “That is impressive. Alright then, I can arrange you having some alone time with it. How long do you suppose you'll need?”

“I take as much as I can get. Ten minutes at least.”

Fury and Hill exchanged a few glances; Tony didn't know them well enough to encode their nonverbal communication. “Fifteen minutes should be doable”, Hill eventually nodded.

“Great! Let's get going, then!”

.

With a loud bang, the heavy door closed behind Tony and brought him face to face with the... thing. Well, almost. There was a glass wall separating them, which probably wasn't the worst idea; Tony really wasn't in the mood for being slimed again.

“I have been waiting for you.”

Uhm, what the fuck? Didn't Fury just say that thing didn't speak?

“And I don't speak, Fury didn't lie to you.”

Fuck, it was in Tony's head... Ugh.

“Don't be so disgusted, you're one of mine now.” Wow, it sounded almost hurt.

Well, if it read Tony's mind... “What's your name?”

“You can call me Tohu.”

“As in wabohu?”

“Exactly!”, it laughed. “Tohuwabohu, I bring confusion and chaos to all that dare to stand in my way.”

“I wouldn't say we stood in your way, you were destroying our planet”, Tony made clear and switched on his device.

“Same difference... Ah, you are trying to measure me, aren't you?”

It really sucked trying to be sneaky with a mind reader... Tony just went ahead about his business. “Where you from?”

“Fine, stick with the small talk, science boy... If you're hoping for me to name a planet, you're wishing in vain. I'm a nomad, travelling the universe, always on the lookout for shelter.”

“Well, there's no shelter for you on this planet.”

Damnit, the sensors didn't pick anything up. Where the fuck did they go wrong? They synced it perfectly with the goo's resonance!

“Your little machine isn't working I see... But don't hesitate to ask away and I will not lie to you.”

Yeah, it didn't expect Tony to buy that, did it?

“Of course you have doubts. But what do you have to lose?”

Damnit, it had a point. Well, here goes nothing... “Fine. What's the deal with the goo?”

“It contains my specific genetically coded psyche, allowing me access to anybody I choose to.”

That made sense and was pretty much what Tony had expected. “Why swap us all, put us in the wrong bodies? We still overpowered and locked you up, so what good did it do you?”

“Tony, Tony... there is such a big brain in that head of yours... I'm sure you can figure it out by yourself.”

Right then. Tony was nothing if not smart and he was definitely not one to back down from a challenge. So, the Avengers were linked genetically to that thing's psyche, with which it like to reek havoc and chaos. The closer Tony got to that thing, the more potent its control became; now that they were only a few metres apart from each other, they could actually communicate telepathically.

Oh shit.

“Ah, it seems you got it.”

“We're your leverage.”

“And the winner is Tony Stark! You do realize what that means, don't you?”

Tony did. In order to break free from its psychic field, they had to let it go.

“Exactly!”, it laughed. “Once I've left this realm, all psychic ties will be broken. And, before you get all sorts of funny ideas about inhibiting my connections or killing me, you wouldn't be the first that tried it. There were civilizations, far more advanced than your little dirty rock, that had to let me go.”

The so far unmoving creature turned and locked eyes with Tony. “Seems like you have a choice to make.”

Fuck. Tony turned to walk away. Just before the door closed, separating him from the creepy voice in his head, he heard it call out one more time: “I'll be waiting for you.”

.

“Why in the everloving fuck wouldn't you tell me that that thing is fucking psychic?”, Tony raged, as he stormed back into Fury's office.

“What do you mean?” Instead of an explanation, Tony was met with confusion.

“I mean fucking psychic!” He fell down on one of the chairs stared straight at Fury. “That thing could read my mind and I heard it. In here...” He gestured at his head. “Would have been really nice to know beforehand.”

“It would have been really nice to know, period!” Maria looked at him with big eyes (well, one big eye). “It never spoke to either of us.”

“Then why did it talk to me?”

“That's something we can figure out later. For now I'm more interested in what it did have to say.”

“Right.” Tony quickly recapped the short conversation he had with Tohu. “So, that's our choice”, he summarized. “Either we stay in this bizarro world until that thing undoubtedly outlives us all, or we let it go.”

“Fuck.”

“That's just as apt a comparison”, Tony scoffed. “So, I assume you two'll join me in my travel back to NY, where we can make a decision.”

“Stark, a teamplayer after all?”, Fury wondered with the hint of a grin.

Tony just decided to ignore the sassy undertone and got up instead. “I would love to just roll my eyes and strut out here, but I would probably get lost. I also assume you have a quinjet at your disposal, which would be so much more comfortable and quicker than Cap's motorbike.”

“That would be a correct assumption”, Hill nodded. “Follow me, and we'll be back in NYC in no time.”

.-.-.-.-.

It was a pitiful sight. Curled in himself with a hot bottle on his stomach, Steve was on the couch and watching some kitschy romcom.

“You really are a walking stereotype”, Nat scoffed and held a chocolate bar out to him.

“I'm so sorry”, he whimpered, “I really am.” He took the bar but put it down next to him on the table. “Thanks. I'll have it later when I don't feel so sick.”

“Sure thing.” She just caught herself before rolling her eyes and instead shot him a smile. “So, how're you doing?”

“How do you think I'm doing?”, he shot back.

“Wow, the hormones are working out for ya, huh?”

“And what would you know about how I'm feeling?”, he hissed and that was it for Nat.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Rogers?” Fuck being nice and supportive. “You do realize this is my body, right? And you do also realize that I have been doing that every month since I was thirteen, including the last few months that we've been living under the same roof. But right, you wouldn't know that because I'm not a whiny crybaby, and neither are Helen, Pepper, Maria or any other woman on this fucking planet!”

Woah. That felt good. The message was clearly received, Steve looked up at her with wide eyes and turned beet red.

“Sorry Nat”, he mumbled and disappeared back under a blanket.

“I know you are. That being said, you're allowed to be in pain and moody and bitchy and shit. Just don't dare taking all that out on me, or I'll go all god of thunder on your ass.”

“I promise!”, he nodded eagerly and shot her a small smile.

“Avengers, assemble in the common room!” JARVIS announced.

“Sounds like Stark is back from DC”, Nat smiled back, “maybe you'll get out of this skin soon, then.” He pulled his feet up, allowing Nat to sit next to him on the couch.

“That would mean that you'd be back in pain and stuff...”

“Yeah, but I'm used to it.”

“Hey, you know what's going on?” Clint waltzed in, in all the Tony Stark fashion they were used to, and dropped down opposite them.

“Tony just got back from DC”, Helen explained, Bruce shuffling inside behind her.

He avoided all eye contact, especially with Nat and cowered in a chair. Fuck. What could she say or do to keep Bruce from doing something stupid? What else could she do? Nat was pretty sure he didn't know that she had tasked JARVIS to keep an extra close eye on the doctor, though he was smart enough to guess that she had done something like that.

“My friends, excuse my tardiness”, Thor apologized and it was so weird to see Bruce, the timid and introverted scientist that open and boisterous.

“You're just in time.” Tony walked in, with Fury and Maria on his heel. Well, this was not going to be what Nat had expected or hoped for.

“No need to talk around it”, Maria said, “we know you're in the wrong body. So are we.” She gestured between her and Fury, who waved at the assembled Avengers.

Nat had no more energy left to be surprised or anything like that and just smiled at them.

The others seemed to feel like she did. “Great, so we're all in the same boat. Did you find anything out?”, Clint asked Tony, not even bothering with giving Fury or Maria a second glance.

“Yeah... You're not gonna like it.”

“Tony, I don't like menstruating, just out with it”, Steve groaned.

“Long story short, we're its hostages. We need to let it go, to sever the psychic connection it has to us.”

“So? Let's do it”, Nat shrugged. “Let it roam the galaxy or whatever.”

“What? And let it terrorize other planets?”, Steve threw in. “We can't let it do that.”

“Yeah, but I assume we're not the first planet it has graced with its presence”, she shrugged.

“We haven't”, Tony agreed with her. “It calls itself Tohuwabohu, a nomad, causing chaos wherever he goes.”

“Wow, it's not conceited at all, is it”, Clint scoffed and begrudgingly made room for Maria on the couch he had been sprawled out on. “But it does sound like our conscience shouldn't have to get in the way and let it go.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce jump a little. Conscience was probably the only reason he hadn't jumped off the tower. It was the same situation, though: Should the Avengers make it easy for themselves and doom another culture to suffer like that or should they just stick it out, get used to the new skin and keep that thing from torturing others? If Bruce were less polite, he would have probably walked out already; it was clearly written all over his face, Clint's face. She couldn't read Bruce Banner all that well yet; he was closed off and they hadn't been living together long enough for Nat to be able to properly read him. Clint was a different story, though. She knew his tells better than Clint knew them himself.

“I do have some readings it's not a lot but we can put our minds together and see what we come up with”, Tony suggested, “and if we still come up empty, we can have this discussion.”

He didn't sound very hopeful; being the one who had actually spoken to Tohuwabohu, he had a better read on the situation than anyone else.

“Are we in agreement?”

Solemn nods went through the round, at which Tony clapped his hands together. “Alrighty then. Before we get to that, though, I need to make fun of Cap.”

“Don't you dare laugh about my period”, Nat made clear and Tony's hands went up defensively.

“I would never”, he asserted. “No, it's more the appointment I had today.”

Steve turned red and put his head in his hands. “So I guess it was...”

“Oh yes, it was”, Tony grinned. Before anybody could urge him to satisfy their curiosity, Tony continued: “Our Captain here has been doing PSAs for high schools, leading to me recording a PSA about profanity, healthy sleeping patterns and drug abuse. Find the irony”, he added deadpan.

“That is gold!”, Clint wheezed.

“Please tell me they are super cheesy”, Nat laughed along.

“Any lactose-intolerant's nightmare.” Tony walked over and patted Steve's shoulder. “Before you try and weasel out of that Sesame Street contract though, you gotta get some girl a promotion.”

“Aha?”

“Mrs Carrigan, whoever that is, was not in today and her PA, Cecily Myers, took care of me.”

“Oh, I know who you mean”, Steve recalled, “she seems very friendly.”

“That she is. And definitely to good to be a PA.”

“Alright, I'll pull some strings once I'm me again.”

“Why don't you just do that?”, Nat asked Tony. He was influential enough, more so than any other Avenger.

“Because I don't know shit about the Department of Education and the people working there”, Tony explained. “Right then, Bruce. Let's get back to it, then.” He gestured for Bruce who silently followed him and once again ignored everybody.

Fuck.

As one after the other filed out of the room, all it took was for her to shoot Clint a look for him to hang back. At least their non-verbal communication worked well enough for him to read Thor's expressions.

“What's up?”

“I think you might need to talk to Bruce”, she explained once they had enough privacy.

“Alright... Some issues with my body or what?”

“You could say that...” She took a deep breath and locked eyes with him. “He's suicidal, but up until a few days ago he was in an unkillable body. He no longer is...”

“What?” Clint's eyes went wide as his jaw dropped. “Why the hell would he want to kill himself? He's one of the most renowned scientists!”

“And also the Hulk”, Nat continued. “I've never seen your face so filled with self-hatred as I have the last few days. I already told JARVIS to keep an eye on him, but I don't think that's enough. I also don't think we should tell everybody, because then he'll jump off the tower for good.”

“Fuck.” Clint looked up at her, somewhere between worry and fear. “Yeah, I'll get right on that.”

“Just don't make it worse, alright?”

“Doesn't seem to be possible.”

.-.-.-.-.

“Hey buddy”, Clint called out and grinned widely at Bruce. “How you doing?”

Bruce didn't even bother looking up at him. “You talked to Nat, huh?”

“Just a bit”, he admitted.

“Right then.” Bruce was not in the mood for this. He reached up and switched off the hearing aids, before diving back into the accumulated brainwave data.

From the corner of his eye he saw Clint furiously signing at him, to get Bruce's attention Damnit. If there was one thing he had learned about Clint was that he was persistent. Maybe even more so, now that he was inside Tony, if that was even possible. Fine. The quicker Bruce would get through this, the sooner he could go back to his work and wallowing in his feelings.

“What?”, he signed back.

“Please don't kill my body.”

“Nice to know where your priorities are at.” Bruce just rolled his eyes and, as Clint motioned to sign his apologies, he just waved him off. “Why though? Tony's body is younger, can hear and is filthy rich.”

Pleadingly, Clint locked eyes with Bruce. “But Clint has a wife and kids.”

Oh. That was news to Bruce... He wasn't sure what to say, but didn't have to.

“I know I never told anybody. Only Nat and Fury know. Nick helped me get them off the grid, where I'd like them to stay. I... I couldn't even call my son, tell him the mission went well. Or my daughter and listen to her toddler-babble...”

Clint's eyes teared up and he turned his head, somehow not wanting Bruce to see that he was emotional about missing his family. Which he deserved to do, of course.

But that shit just wasn't fair.

“I'm happy for you, I really am. But this whole game is rigged, isn't it? Thor goes back, he's the prince of Asgard. Tony goes back, he's the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. What do I get? A life of hiding away, of fear with no sign of it all ending.”

He banged his hand on the table, apparently quite loud, judging from Clint jumping.

“Just leave me be”, he whispered and turned his back on his friend.

.-.-.-.-.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! They couldn't do anything. Nothing, absolutely nothing to stop Tohuwabohu from fucking up their life any more. To keep from letting his frustrations out from Bruce and Helen, Tony went up to the penthouse. There were less tools he could throw around, but he had almost finished this bottle of whiskey and that was good enough.

And one big swig later, Tony could properly chuck it across the room and contently watch as it shattered into hundreds of tiny shards in a wonderful loud bang.

“You feel better now?” Pepper stood in the door, shooting him a small smile.

“Hey Pep”, he smiled back and, for a short glorious moment, he forgot everything about his current situation.

“I take it, things don't look too rosy...”

“They do not. If we want to get back, we need to let the Alien go again.”

“Oh.” She sat down next to Tony and looked over. “What do you want to do?”

“Currently I want to either kiss you or at least lie in your arms”, he grinned.

“I'd like that, too”. Pepper smiled back and leaned over. “I'll just keep my eyes closed”, she giggled, before pressing her lips against Tony's, well, Steve's.

And Tony just exploded in joy and love and his face beamed probably brighter than his arc reactor heart. “Oh, that was... I really missed that.”

“Yeah...” She leaned back and grinned up at him. “I do prefer your own lips, though.”

“I should hope so... But...”

“But I might have to get used to this body”, she finished his train of thought.

“I... I just don't know what to do.”

“Come here.” Pepper pulled his head into her lap and started to stroke his hair; the most calming and reassuring touch Tony had ever felt. “I can't tell you what to do. And I don't want to either. Just remember, I fell in love with you, not with your body.”

“I do look so much better than Cap though... I mean, I can appreciate his body, and that is one nice ass...”

When the hand stopped moving, Tony glanced through one eye to find her having an eyebrow raised. “Not sure I got this right: do you want to keep this behind or, once you got your own back, want to be with this behind instead?”

“I mean, maybe as a rebound, if I ever fuck this up”, he shrugged with a grin. “I don't plan on doing that, though.”

“You just assume that you'd get Cap in case we break up?”, Pepper shot back. “Maybe I like this body, too?”

“If you want to give it a test ride...”, he smirked, but the laugh bubbled through. “Maybe not though, this is a young, enhanced body, don't know if my body – in case of getting back - can keep up with that... Although I'm sure the real Steve'd be really grateful and a giver...”

“Tony”, Pepper interrupted him.

Probably a good idea, otherwise he would have probably gone into some very uncomfortable areas of Steve's sex life (or lack thereof). “Sorry. Back on topic... I don't know what's gonna happen... We're pretty divided. Nat and Clint campaign for letting that thing go, Fury, Hill and Steve want to keep working on a different solution, which is pretty useless if you ask me, Thor is just happy to be here, Bruce has been scary quiet on the whole thing and I just don't know anymore what's wrong or right.”

“What does Helen say?”

“She agrees that there's nothing we can do. The alien told me that there was nothing we could do and that fucker was right. We can't kill it; it's skin is tougher than Cap's shield. We can't inhibit it's psychic connection; we can't even properly compute its brainwaves! That goo is about as useful in our research as that glibber from Nickelodeon... It'd be easier to physically explain Thor's power than to get an upper hand on that thing!”

“Then that's what you need to make Steve, Maria and Nick understand.”

“And then?” Tony had no idea how all this could end.

“One thing at a time.” She went back to tousling his hair and Tony just leaned into the touch that somehow made him feel like everything's gonna be alright.

“Ok”, he nodded.

“Just like that you agree?”, she chuckled.

“You're the smart one in this relationship”, he shrugged and grinned up at her.

“Yeah, that's true”, she agreed and leaned down one more time and put a soft kiss on his forehead.

.

“So, listen up”, Tony announced, after all the Avengers had assembled in the common room. “We can't beat this thing. There is no scientific way to circumvent Tohu's psychic influence on us. There is also no way to kill it. Yes, me, Helen and Bruce are sure about that. We tried everything and there is nothing to argue about, we can't. We have two options: either we let it go or we just stay where we are; in the wrong body.”

“Are you sure...”

“Yes, Steve”, Tony interrupted him and just managed to keep at least mostly calm. “I would bet Pepper's life on that. There's nothing, absolutely nothing. You got that now?”

Steve nodded and silently went back to hugging his hot water bottle.

“Right then”, Fury took over. “Tony, what's your take?”

“I'm ready to be convinced either way”, he answered honestly.

“Fine. Who's got a proper opinion?”

“I do”, Nat made clear. “We do it. We let it go. Evolution has its reasons that we might not understand, but it survives this way.”

“Besides”, Clint continued, “the longer we leave it locked up a SHIELD, the more chances are there for it to spread throughout the institution.”

“And, if we let it go, there is no harm done to our world”, Nat finished their statement.

“But to others”, Steve countered.

“There are plenty of uninhabited planets for Tohuwabohu to settle on”, Thor explained. “Chance that he might find one of those is greater than to find a peopled world.”

“Is this really a chance we can take?”

“Yes”, Nat made very clear, and Tony could have sworn he heard thunder going off in the distance as she all but banged her fist on the table and stared Steve down. “Let's just let go of this fucker before bad things happen we can never undo.”

“You know something we don't?” All eyes were on Natasha, who didn't seem to give two shits about the attention on her outburst.

“As a rule, yes I do”, she shot back.

“Anything we need to know?”, Tony tried again, but was met with silence. He didn't have the strength to try and – speaking from experience – fail at getting information out of her, so he just turned back to Fury. “Alright, I'm convinced, let it go.”

“I guess I could learn to live with it, too”, Steve mumbled, looking anything but happy about it, though.

“Bruce, what about you?”

Even more so than usually, Bruce was quiet and withdrawn. Something must have happened that Tony didn't know about, probably something to do with Natasha pushing to release Tohu to the wide unknown.

“I don't want to go back into my body”, he made clear and looking over at Clint, Tony saw his own face dropping. “But”, the doc continued, “I can't keep Clint away from his. So fine.”

“Fine? You're with us?”, Natasha inquired, looking almost afraid of his answer.

“What's going on?”, Tony demanded to know and looked from Bruce to Clint to Natasha.

“Nothing”, Bruce clearly lied, before looking back at Natasha. “Yes.”

“Good”, she smiled, looking more than relieved.

“So, we're in agreement. Right, then me and Hill need to get back to DC and figure out how to send that thing back into outer space.”

.-.-.-.-.

And there they came, crawling back to him, having failed in their mission, just as Tohu told them they would. And now Fury and Hill stood in his cage, begging to know how they had to let him go.

“I want everybody here”, he eventually communicated. By the way both of them jumped, it was clear to see that neither had expected him to talk to them. It was a little fair, he hadn't been keen on chatting with them so far; he never planned on attaching to them, it happened admittedly by accident. Besides, ever since he had connected to the Avengers, as they called themselves, he had recognized the intelligence of the ones called Stark and Banner plus the Asgardian prince and figured that they'd be the only ones worth talking to. But now that they were ready to let him go, he wanted them all here.

“Uhm, you mean everybody you switched?”

“Yes”, he nodded. “I want to see all of my children, before I leave them forever.”

“We're not your children”, Maria made clear.

“Is this this teenage rebellion I have heard of?”

Both just rolled their eyes and strutted out of the room, to call the rest of the group, undoubtedly.

There had been many that tried to stand in his way, to stop him. Many planets had their so-called heroes and self-proclaimed Defenders; none of which had ever managed to stand in his way.

It was almost adorable, the hubris in which they assumed themselves to be stronger or smarter than Tohuwabohu, as if he weren't older than most their civilizations. They still kept on trying, no matter what he told them, like little children that never listened and instead threw a temper tantrum, until they realized they couldn't do shit and came crawling back.

It didn't take too long, for his door to open again and all his children to strut into his cage.

“There you are”, he greeted them, “I have been looking forward to this moment all week.”

“Yeah, me too.” The woman in the Asgardian's body looked ready to strangle him on the spot, very unladylike. But, if her thoughts were anything to go by, ladylike wasn't an adjective to describe her. So many dark thoughts, memories and emotions. Especially about one of her teammates...

“Banner”, he called out, “your friend seems deeply worried about you. And it seems, for good reasons...” If Natasha had dark thoughts, then Bruce's were pitch black.

“Stay out of my head”, Banner answered but, unlike the rest of the group, he had shied back, keeping at the back and fidgeting nervously with his fingers.

And immediately all the thoughts turned to the doctor with the self-hatred. Somewhere between worry and confusion and maybe, just maybe, it would be best for them to have it all out in the open. And if it didn't help them, Tohu had more than enough drama and confusion to feast his eyes on.

“Bruce, your feelings are valid and understandable. I'm just glad I could offer you the possibility to confront them and maybe even a chance to get out.”

“Get out of what?”

The Avengers were no longer quiet and turned to their doctor.

“Don't listen to him”, Bruce shot back, “it's his shtick to create confusion.”

“Oh, you are a horrible liar”, Tohu chuckled. “But those weren't the only feelings to be searched, were they, Tony?”

Stark rolled his eyes and turned back to him. “What?”

“You had plenty of chances to do some soul-searching yourself, did you? Being the man your father idolized and ignored you in favour of...”

“That's enough”, Rogers called. “You are aware of our intentions so there is no need for further aggravation and instead tell us how you'll be able to leave the atmosphere.”

“My dear... There is no need to take your frustrations out on me. Just because you're still mourning the loss of the love of your life... At least Peggy is still alive...”

“Wait, Aunt Peggy isn't the love of your life?” Tony turned to Steve with wide eyes and the wonderfulness of the rising tension, plus the deep blush on Steve's face, send shivers all through Tohu's body. Now, who was next?

“Clint.” He turned to the archer next. “How was life in the limelights, after hiding everything and everyone away?”

“You fucker leave my wife and kids out of this”, Clint thought. At least he was smart enough not to voice it out loud, rather commendable, Tohu had to give him that.

“My apologies. At least one of you seems to have his anger under control, isn't that right, Thor, Son of Odin?”

“Do not speak of things you do not know about.”

“Oh, but I have been on Asgard once before. I believe it was many, many a century before you were born. It was not much to look at, but if the pictures in your mind are anything to go by, your planet and civilization has blossomed beautifully. Maybe I should visit it once more...”

“DON'T EVEN THINK TO GO NEAR MY PEOPLE!” As expected, the god of thunder lost it, and a beautifully green shine crossed his skin.

“Thor, buddy, trust me, please.” Bruce took his stance in front of Thor and put his hands on the god's shoulders. “You do trust me, don't you?”

“I shall not let this creature terrorize my kin”, he growled, a little calmer but still wonderfully close to hulking out.

“And he won't”, Bruce promised him. “But Hulk can't help right now, we need Thor and his knowledge of space to make sure that Asgard will be alright.”

“You're right.” With a sigh, Thor let his head drop. “I'm terribly sorry, my dear friends that my temper keeps on endangering us.”

“Like I said before”, Bruce smiled, “it's not your fault.”

“Aw, isn't this adorable! Can we expect a happy announcement soon? Oh please, invite me to your wedding!”

“Is this supposed to be insulting?” Thor and Bruce both turned to Tohu. “For Bruce is a formidable person, of incredible strength, knowledge and anybody should be lucky to have him by their side.”

“But Bruce doesn't believe that about himself, does he?”

“Alright, I've had it.”

The way the Avengers looked at Bruce with wide eyes, nobody seemed to expect the doctor's outburst. Banner didn't seem to care or notice their shock, as he walked all the way up to the glass separating them.

“So, you want to out all our secrets, hoping we'll jump at each other's throats? You didn't need to switch us for that, we've been pretty successful at that ourselves before you came and screwed everything up. I mean, look at us for heaven's sake. There's an obnoxious spoilt brat of a genius, a moralistic veteran from World War 2, the guy from Norse mythology, the scariest and toughest woman you'll ever meet, the world's best archer and I mean, I don't think I have to say anything about myself. And now you just want to out our secrets? I mean, come on”, he groaned with an exaggerated eyeroll. “They all know I'm suicidal, I've told them that before. We all know that Stark has daddy issues and that Clint, who makes his living as a spy, keeps secrets from us. And everybody who knows a bit about Captain America and has half a brain, realizes that the relationship he had with Sgt Barnes was straight-washed by historians. So, what the fuck do you think you could do to us that we don't already do to ourselves?”

Huh. Not the drama Tohu had expected to break out, apparently he had not estimated the Avengers relationships correctly. It was drama nonetheless, and enough for Tohu. “Well said, Banner”, he praised him. “I see that there is not much more dysfunctionality to be brought upon you.”

“Well, whoop-de-fucking-doo”, Bruce deadpanned. “So, how do we get rid of you?”

“Let me out of here and I'll fly off. You do realize that I have wings, right?”

Apparently they did not. But that was none of Tohu's problems, as soon as he will be under a clear sky he can go find another place to reek havoc.

“Go ahead, discuss how you'll smuggle me out of here without SHIELD noticing. I'm not going anywhere.”

As the Avengers filed out, there weren't too many exciting thoughts, mostly a bunch of very colourful and creative swearwords directed at Tohu. All he could hope was that they were just as creative when it came to escape plans and he would be out of this world in no time.

.-.-.-.-.

“Well, that went about as smooth as figure skating in the desert...”, Clint remarked as he made himself comfortable in Fury's office.

“What a wonderful picture”, Natasha deadpanned and leaned against the wall behind the archer. “But your lyrical abilities and some interpersonal shit aside, let's deal with that fucker over there for now. I don't assume that SHIELD would let it go if we told them to.”

“That is not going to happen”, Fury agreed, “which means we need to stage a break out.”

“Which isn't too hard”, Nat shrugged. “Stage a distraction, cap the security cams, open the doors and let the thing fly off.”

“Right, simple as that”, Fury scoffed. “May I remind you that your current body isn't all that equipped to sneaking around and being inconspicuous?”

“So? Steve has snuck into Hydra bases before, he can do that again.”

“You mean in a body that he can barely stand up straight in?”

“Then let Clint do it. He can sneak, can work Tony's body and cut the feed.”

“And what sort of distraction did you have in mind?” Ugh, Fury's pessimism was exhausting.

She just nodded at Thor

“Would you be alright with that?” Bruce turned to Thor, looking so much softer than only a few minutes ago while ranting at Tohuwabohu.

“I assume the plan is for me to hulk out, so the agents of SHIELD shall leave their posts.”

“That's the idea, yeah.”

“I am aware that it is our best shot, I am afraid of hurting you, though.”

“I trust you, remember?”, Bruce smiled.

“We all do”, Tony continued.

“Then I shall trust your trust.” Thor nodded and locked eyes with each of the assembled Avengers.

And that's what they did. Natasha and Bruce accompanied Thor to the far end of SHIELD HQ, while Maria took Clint to the security room and Tony, Steve and Fury headed to Tohu's cage to let him out.

“Well, Thor, now's your chance” Nat prompted him.

“I am not sure how to switch it on or off though.”

“Well you better”, Bruce shrugged, “otherwise Tohu might make his next stop on Asgard. Your parents might be safe, I'm not sure if they would be able to get to Loki in time, what with him being in the dungeons...”

“This creature shall not lay a hand on my brother!” Taking Bruce's bait, Thor started to turn green.

“What if he stayed on earth though and ran into Jane and Professor Selvig?”

Nat doubted it needed this last comment, but in any way it helped to push Thor over the edge and with a loud growl Bruce's clothes ripped and the damn rage monster was back.

Fuck.

“CODE GREEN!”, Bruce cried out and thankfully, some nearby soldiers pressed the panic button or something, Nat did not really pay it any attention, she had to focus on Hulk, on where he was and on how to best avoid being close to dying again...

In a matter of seconds, they were surrounded by agents, having their guns pointed at Thor, who growled loudly and punched at everything that came to him.

“DON'T CROWD HIM”, Nat called out.

“That only makes it worse”, Bruce continued.

Hopefully they were quick with letting that thing go, the longer Hulk raged around, the harder it'd be to turn him back.

It were two endlessly long seeming minutes, until a loud crashing sound even drowned out Hulk's growling. All eyes went over to where Tohu was once captive and before Nat knew what happened, everything went dark as the Alien took to the skies and blocked out the sun.

The tumult that broke out when Thor hulked out was nothing compared to what went  down now. All the agents seemed to have forgotten Hulk as they hurried around, trying to shoot the asshole down.

“Bruce, now”, she hissed over and the doc walked up to Hulk. Like the other day he had his hands held out as he carefully took step after step.

“Hey buddy”, he smiled, “you see, it's over.” He gestured towards Tohu, flying in circles above them, circling higher and higher. “Soon enough everything will be alright again, we'll get back to normal. Our plan worked.”

Thor just stared after the disappearing Alien, before looking down on Bruce.

“It's alright, buddy”, he assured him. “The sun's getting low.”

The big green hand slowly came down and Hulk put his hand in Bruce's. “Sun's getting real low, buddy.”

.

“Well, that was a success”, Fury commented, when about half an hour later everybody sat in his office again. Still in the wrong bodies, but Tohu probably wasn't far enough away yet. Or he tricked them all and they were doomed to remain in the wrong skin and had let their only chance for normalcy – at least their enhanced, super-human and alien normalcy – go. Nobody dared to voice this fear out loud, but Nat was sure they all thought it.

“Thor, you did perfectly”, Steve praised the god who was wrapped up in a blanket and more asleep than awake on one of the chairs.

“Thank you, dear friend”, he smiled back. “I hope it was not for nothing.”

“At least nobody will know it was us who let it go”, Clint shrugged, so apparently everything went well in the surveillance area.

“Well, me and Fury got a lot to deal with, so you six better head out before all hell breaks loose and all we can do is hope for the best.”

.-.-.-.-.

When Tony woke up it was still dark out. Groggily he glanced through an half-open eye to the moon shining in through the window. He had to fight to fully open his eyes and he sat up to look around the common room where he must have fallen asleep, as did the other Avengers.

Ugh, every of his joints creaked and cracked as he sat up. Wait, why would that be, if he was in Steve's 20-something year old enhanced body?

It could mean only one thing... He looked down and almost couldn't believe his eyes: blue light from the arc-reactor was lighting up his chest and yes, he was wearing an ACDC shirt, and no longer these horribly tight shirts Steve ran around in.

“JARVIS, who am I?” Last test.

“You are Anthony Edward Stark, born on...”

“Thanks J, that'll be all. YO, UP AND AT 'EM!”, he yelled at the Avengers around him.

“What is it now? Wait, my voice... OMIGOD, IT WORKED!”, Clint cried out and in joy jumped up on the couch, where Steve was patting his chest to make sure that he didn't have boobs anymore.

It was, weirdly enough, Thor, who motioned for them to quiet down. “Friends, do not disturb our doctor, he needs his rest.” He put the blanket, that had fallen off the couch, back over Bruce's torso.

“Right then.” Nat motioned for them to leave Bruce be and the Avengers assembled again in the kitchen. “Thor, don't take this personally, but fuck, I'm so glad to be myself again.”

“No offence taken”, Thor smiled back at her. “thank you for taking care of my body these last few days.”

“Yeah, Steve I'd like to say the same thing to you, but...”

Steve blushed and was about to apologize his ass off, before Nat continued. “I'm kidding. You did well, considering what you were up against.”

“Thanks... And Tony, I guess you made more than enough... Tony?” As they looked around, they realized them being one genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist short. “Where did he go?”

“Three guesses”, Nat shot back, pretty sure he had run off to Pepper, the second he saw he was himself again.

.

“PEPPER!” Only when Tony ran into the penthouse and was greeted by a very tired, still half-asleep looking Pepper, he bothered to check the time. 3.47am. Whoops. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, but...”

“Tony, is it you?”

“Yeah”, he beamed, “I'm me again!”

“Finally!”, she sighed and threw herself at him and pressed their lips together. If Tony didn't get to do anything else besides kissing Pepper for the rest of his life, he would be a-ok with that.

“I love you so, so, so much”, he sighed and melted into her touch.

“And I love you”, she smiled against his lips.

“So, I guess it wasn't really a perfect victory, but good enough to celebrate it, don't you think?”

“How subtle.” Pepper broke away from the kiss, giggling. “I'd love to celebrate with you”, she grinned and pulled him towards the bedroom. “The bed has been way to empty without you in it.”

.-.-.-.-.

“Hey Bruce, you busy?” Nat put her head through the lab door. Ever since they had woken up to their normal skins three days ago, she had kept her distance and Bruce had been waiting for her to show up.

“What's up?” He looked up from his microscope.

“I'm kidnapping you”, she smiled.

“Very funny.”

“But true. Come on.” She gestured for him to follow her.

“Fine...” Damnit. If Bruce didn't follow her right now, she would probably drag him to where ever by his ankles. “You gonna tell me where you're taking me?”, he asked as he hurried to catch up to her.

“We're gonna drive a bit”, was the only thing she told him direction wise and tossed a helmet at him. Great, per motorbike.

So, holding on to Nat's torso, they rode out of New York. Bruce wasn't gonna admit it, but it was actually really nice and a lot of fun. And Nat was a good driver. A little fast, but not dangerously so and Bruce just enjoyed the view as they drove past less and less houses and more and more greenery.

Until they reached a farmhouse, in front of which Nat stopped and motioned for Bruce to get off.

Before he could ask where they were and what they were doing here, the door opened and a small boy came running towards them. “AUNTIE NAT!”

“Cooper!”, she beamed and, once he jumped into her arms, whirled the boy through the air. “How're you doing?”

“So good! Daddy and I worked on the treehouse and Mummy just made dinner and you're just in time to eat.”

“Perfect, I'm starving”, Nat grinned, before she turned to Bruce, who so far had only stared at her with wide eyes. She was grinning, almost giggly. “That's Bruce. He's a friend of me and Daddy's.”

“Hi Bruce”, the kid smiled at him. “Are you also staying for dinner?”

“He is, yes”, Nat answered for Bruce, who was still a little overwhelmed at the sight of Natasha Romanoff of all people being cute and cuddly.

“Great.” The boy jumped out of Nat's arm and took each of the grown ups by their hands and pulled them after him towards the farmhouse, where they were greeted by a woman, around Natasha's age, with a little girl in her arm.

“NASHA!”, the girl giggled and stretched her little arms out towards her.

“Hey, Lila”, she cooed and took the girl in her arm. “Laura, it's so good to see you!”

“You too”, the woman smiled back and hugged Nat and the little girl. “And I assume you're Bruce”, she greeted him and held her hand out. “I'm Laura. That's Cooper and that's Lila.”

“It's so nice to meet you all”, he smiled, slightly overwhelmed at this little family and why exactly he was here.

“And to meet you, too. I guess you already know my husband”, she grinned and behind her, Clint appeared.

“Tasha, Bruce, good to see you.”

Of fucking course. This was Clint's family, the people Bruce was asked to keep Clint's body safe for.

“Auntie Nat said they stay for dinner.”

“Of course, we didn't drive all the way for nothing.”

.

“So, you looked after my Clint's body the last few days?”, Laura asked, as Clint and Nat put the kids to bed.

“You could say that”, he shrugged. “I feel like I should apologize, though, as I take it your existence is supposed to be a secret.”

“I believe a smart scientist like you can keep it”, she winked and handed him a cup of tea.

“Thanks.” Together they headed to the living room and made themselves comfortable. From a few rooms over, Bruce could hear giggling, as Nat and Clint told some dramatic bed time story. “I've never seen either of them like that”, he remarked.

“Yeah”, Laura nodded, and took a sip of tea. “Nat barely shows anybody a side that's not completely controlled and stoic. Same with Clint. I know he's not a serious guy, but Avenger's Clint is quite the burdened guy. Until he and Auntie Nat come home.”

“If I'm being honest, I never pictured him to be the family type”, Bruce admitted. “I mean, with his time at the circus, then SHIELD...”

“Yeah, he doesn't really fit the type... But he is an incredible dad and Nat is an amazing Auntie.”

“Well, this last week has certainly be informative”, Bruce eventually chuckled.

“That I believe... Listening to Thor and Tony Stark telling me they love me was a little weird to say the least.”

Bruce couldn't help but laugh. “That I believe. I think Tony and Pepper went through pretty much the same thing...”

“Yes, Clint mentioned something about kissing Pepper...”

“I think the word 'clusterfuck' perfectly summarized these last few days.”

“Well, if anybody gets through that, it's Earth Mightiest Heroes, isn't it?”, she grinned.

“We definitely create enough chaos being the six of us without needing some mind-reading Alien to do that for us.”

“But when you need each other you're there and get yourselves out of the messes, no matter whether created by an Alien or your own doing.”

“I guess...” From the kids' room, he heard Nat and Clint laughing and couldn't help the smile. “No idea, when or how it happened, but I guess we need each other...”

“Then I'm happy to lend you Clint every now and again”, she grinned and Bruce just smiled back.

“And I promise all of us will do everything in our power to always bring him back to you.”

Laura took Bruce's hands in hers and gently squeezed them. She didn't say anything, but didn't have to; Bruce clearly received all her gratefulness.

Sure, once the excitement of this body switch was over and Bruce was back in his lab, hiding behind science and his microscope, the fucked up feeling of his Hulk-sized depression would soon enough catch up with him again. But at least for right now he could appreciate being kept from doing something stupid and well, with Natasha, Clint, Thor, Tony and Steve caring about him like that, maybe the future wouldn't be too bad.

[mldrgrl]

Prompt for my dearest & most favourite fan-fic author: Mulder to Scully -- "That's not nothing. It's definitely something." I envisioned a rated-R, 90s-era M&S, but you can of course choose whatever you wish. I'll be overjoyed nonetheless. Love, Joy.

Oh, dear, sweet, lovely Joy Anon.  I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.

The One That Never Wasby: mldrgrlRating: PG-13

Mulder has been happier in the past few weeks than he can ever remember being.  Not since he was a kid, since before his sister was taken, before his parents started fighting on a regular basis, before the idyll he believed he grew up in was disillusioned forever, had he ever been so happy.  He’s tried to keep his exuberance to a minimum, but most of the time he’s just bursting with joy and he unable hide his delighted smile each morning he greets his partner.  She’s warned him a few times, rather half-heartedly if he does say so himself, to tone it down or he’ll give them away before they’re ready to face the world as a couple, and he tries to put a lid on it while they’re at work, he really does, but it’s hard.

He’d expected that in opposition to his pure glee, Scully might amp up her usual stoicism, but she’s actually softened a bit.  She doesn’t chastise him nearly as much as she normally would when he makes off color jokes or tries to be funny.  She actually looks at him with amusement.  Her eye rolling is minimal.

This week though, something is off.  She’s expressionless most of the time, doesn’t smile or groan.  She’s been quieter.  Granted, they’ve spent most of the week in the field, he doing interviews, Scully conducting autopsies, but after hours, when they wasted the taxpayer’s dollar on two motel rooms, she claimed exhaustion all three nights and curled up into a little ball and fell asleep as though he wasn’t there.  And despite this new and blossoming relationship they’re forming, the handful of times he’s asked if everything is alright, she tells him she’s fine, which has always been Scully-speak for ‘not fine, but leave me alone.’

He waits until the case is over and they’re back at home to force the issue.  He’s been feeling a mixture of concern, annoyance, and hurt feelings by her resistance to talk to him.  He doesn’t expect miracles by any means, that overnight a switch would be flicked and with sex would come easy communication, but he had hoped that she would be willing to share her feelings a little more.

“Will I be calling Wong’s or House of Hunan?” he asks, as they prepare to close up the office for the evening.  

“Oh,” she says, pausing as she zips up her laptop inside her carrier.  “Um.”

“Or not.”  He loosens the knot in his tie and kicks his chair under his desk.  

“I just hadn’t thought about it.  I’m not actually that hungry.”

Mulder frowns and feels the pull of his brows forming a divot in his forehead.  The food is beside the point.  It’s code for ‘your place or mine?’  Wong’s is up the street from his apartment, House of Hunan is on the way to hers.

“You skipped lunch,” he points out.

“Did I?”

“Is everything alri-”

“House of Hunan,” she interrupts, slinging her laptop case over her shoulder.  “If you don’t mind picking it up, I can call it in on the way home.”

“I don’t mind.”  He shakes his head and stares at her intently, but she isn’t looking at him, she’s looking everywhere but him as she collects her things to head out.

He walks her to the elevator as usual, with his hand placed gently at the small of her back, sneaking glances at her all the while, but she doesn’t turn towards him.  In the parking garage, he sees her to her car and she meets his eyes for the first time as he holds the door open for her and she slips inside.

“Drive safe,” he murmurs.

“I will.”

She pulls the door closed and he follows behind the taillights to his own car as she slowly drives away.  The drive will take under an hour, even with the stop to pick up the food, but he takes his time to give her a bit of space and to figure out how he’s going to confront her about her uncharacteristic demeanor this week.

She’s had time to change into jeans and a sweater, and he’s glad she’s gotten comfortable.  There’s a bottle of wine on the table too when he lets himself in and he takes that as a good sign.  He sets the bag of take-out down before he shucks his jacket and unlaces his shoes to put them by the door.  He took his tie off in the car and already unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt.  He’s rolling up his shirtsleeves when she passes by on her way to the table and he stops her with a bump to the hip.

“Hey,” he says.

She gives him a brief smile and a pat on the chest before she lifts on tiptoes and quickly kisses him on the mouth.  He leans down to chase her lips, but she ducks away and rifles through the bag of takeout.

“Smells good,” he says.

“It’s the pineapple chicken.”

“I was talking about you, actually.”  He sidles up behind her and drapes himself over her back, slipping his hands up under her sweater.  She tilts her head a little and he nips at her neck as he squeezes her breasts softly.  When he looks down he can see the outline of his knuckles through her thin sweater.

“Thought you were hungry,” she says.

He nuzzles her neck.  “Mmhm.”

“The chicken will get cold.”

He relaxes his hands and let’s them slide down her ribs to her hips, but he doesn’t let go of her, just changes his hold.  “What’s wrong?” he whispers into her hair.

“Nothing.”

“Scully.  Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Promise?”

She sighs and rests her hands against his arms.  “Can’t you let it go?”

“Have you ever known me to let anything go?”

She turns suddenly in his arms, startling him, and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.  He’s lost in it almost immediately, even though he knows she’s deflecting and he should stop.  She feels so good though, her body pressed tight to his, legs shifting against his thighs.

Before he knows it, she’s got his belt undone and she’s pulling handfuls of his shirt towards her as she backs into the table.  She wiggles up onto the flat surface and draws him in with her legs hooked over his hips.  She lays back and he follows, but not completely.  He stops short above her, breaks their kiss and braces his hand by her head to look down at her.

“Let it go,” she whispers, blue eyes glistening brightly.

“I can’t do that, Scully.  Not now.”

She grows limp under him and looks away.  When she blinks a tear rolls down her cheek she quickly reaches up to brush it away.  She swallows once and then turns her head again to look up at him.

“If the in vitro had worked, I would be due right around now,” she says.

It feels like his heart drops out of his chest and his stomach twists into knots.  He straightens, finding it hard to breathe as he’s crouched over.  Scully lowers her legs from his hips and stares at the ceiling.

“That’s not nothing,” he says.  “It’s definitely something.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t…of course it…Scully…”

She bites her bottom lip and lowers her eyes.  He pulls her up and into his arms and holds her as tight as he can.  He can feel her heart thumping swiftly against his chest or maybe it’s his, or they’re the same.  Her fingers are curled against his shoulders like she’s trying to get a grip on him, but can’t.

“Don’t dwell on it,” she says, but her voice is pinched and strained and he knows she’s not trying to convince him, she’s trying to convince herself.

“I’ll find a way.  If it’s what you want, Scully, I’ll find a way.”

There is a heavy silence that follows, one in which the sound of their harsh breathing is amplified and seems to grow louder and louder in Mulder’s ears.  He buries his face in Scully’s hair.

“What about what you want?” she whispers.

“Mostly I just want world peace and to make you happy.  And I’m not being glib, that’s really all I want.”

“I believe you.”  She sighs against him and tilts her head up so her face rests against his neck.  “I don’t know if it’s a baby that I want, Mulder, it’s the reminder of what they took from me that really does it.”

“I wish I could-”

“I know.  I know you do.”

Mulder bites his lip and tries not to cry.  He hadn’t felt the loss of what they never had until this moment and he doesn’t know how she bore it nine months ago.  She had to be even stronger than he ever realized.

“I’m not giving up on a miracle though,” she says.  “I can’t.  I won’t.”

He waits until the knot in his throat is swallowed down to answer.  “Then maybe there’s hope.”

The End

[izzy-b-hands]

Happy At Home-Part Two

Part Two, road trip stuff! 

Forgive that this probably isn’t one hundred percent historically accurate in terms of driving time-I’m literally plugging it into Google maps and just kinda going with it because I’m so bad at time estimates, and what I have been able to research about cars in the 40s and early 50s didn’t give me an exact way to estimate how long each leg would take. I’m tryin’ here, lol. This is what I get for being determined to finish a multipart fic at one in the morning. 

“Please get in the carrier?” Eugene asked hopefully. 

Queen stared at him, and he could swear it was really a glare. Gunner and Little Sid had gone into their carriers with some prompting, but she was being a damn diva about it. 

“Young lady, you listen to your father and get in there,” Snafu scolded as he passed them on his way to the front door, on his seemingly hundredth trip to put another box in the car. They were leaving a lot behind-the furniture, even the stuff they’d bought themselves, plus some little knick-knacks that it was just easier to leave behind. Yet they still had far too many boxes to cram into the car. As it was, there would be just enough room for the cat’s carriers and the litter box-the cats would be getting a bathroom break every two hours of driving, they’d decided. 

Queen licked a paw, and Eugene sighed. “Please, do it for me.” 

She looked back up at him. 

“I’d feel a lot less nervous about this move if you were my best girl and just went right into your carrier. I promise it’ll be worth it, if you’re good,” Eugene said, trying not to think about how he was essentially begging a maybe ten pound creature to listen to him. 

But it worked. She let out a dainty sigh, then trotted into the carrier and settled as he shut the door of it. 

“There’s my girl,” Eugene praised as he poked a finger through the wire door for her to sniff and lick. 

“I think that’s it,” Snafu said as he came back in, dragging snow in after him. “You and the kids ready?” 

Eugene nodded and grabbed his coat. “Ready as we’ll ever be.” 

“We’re gonna be okay,” Snafu said, moving to help him pull the wool coat on. “No matter what.” 

Eugene turned to him and kissed him as he took hold of his hands. His fingers were cold, but his lips were still warm. “I know. Just gonna take getting there and a while for me to shake this.” 

“You take all the time you need. I got you,” Snafu replied. “C’mon. Let’s get the babies in the car.” 

“They’re gonna hate this,” Eugene said as he picked up Queen’s carrier. “You ready to listen to that much yellin’ and hollerin’?” 

“They might surprise us,” Snafu said, grabbing Gunner and Little Sid’s carriers as he walked out the front door. “Give ‘em a chance.” 

Eugene turned off the lights, then stopped to look at the not quite empty, yet not as full as it had been apartment. It was strange, seeing it like that. Knowing they wouldn’t have another night on the couch together, falling asleep with books in their hands or staying up too late talking. Not having the same open window in their bedroom for Gunner to go in and out of as he prowled the neighborhood, only to return before the end of the night to curl up by their feet. No more finding little Sid and Queen asleep in the linen closet, always left open for them. 

“You can get the door, right? I already gave that asshole my key,” Snafu said, breaking the spell. 

“Yeah, I got it,” Eugene replied, and stepped out of the doorway to close and lock it while Queen meowed at the cold air. “You okay running the key down, or should I?” 

“Naw, I told him I’d be back down with yours,” Snafu said as he set Gunner’s carrier down to grab the key and shove it in his trouser pocket. He picked Gunner back up and started down to the landlord and the car, leaving Eugene with Queen and his thoughts. 

“Just another sort of adventure, right Queenie?” Eugene sighed. 

She meowed angrily as the wind picked up. 

“Fair enough. Rude of me to be askin’ you questions while you freeze. Let’s get you in the car,” he replied and went down to the car. 

Snafu was settling the other two in the car, fussing with the placement of the carriers while they yowled at him. “Your daddy just had to be right about you hating this, didn’t he? Just hush, we’ll be there before you know it, you’ll nap…fuck’s sake, I hope you’ll nap.” 

“The kids aren’t happy?” Eugene said as he passed Queen’s carrier to him. 

“Oh no, they’re thrilled. Singing a song about how much they love the car, can’t you hear it?” 

Eugene winced at a particularly piercing shriek from Little Sid. “I can. Lovely.” 

“Isn’t it just?” Snafu laughed as he got Queen settled in and shut the car door. “We’re gonna be serenaded until they fall asleep. If they fall asleep.” 

Eugene got in the passenger side-Snafu had agreed to drive for the first leg of the drive, ideally all the way from Annapolis to Richmond in Virginia. “They’ll sleep. That’s one of their favorite things. Just give them time to get used to the sound of the car, the bouncing. I mean, they’ll still hate this, but they’ll sleep at least.” 

Snafu shook his head as he got in, and started the car. “How about you? Gonna try and sleep?” 

“We’ve barely been awake,” Eugene replied. Granted, it had been a very busy morning of quick packing and buying what they didn’t have but needed, namely the cat carriers. “Besides, who’s gonna keep you awake?” 

Queen let out what could only be described as an angry scream, and Snafu pointed to the back seat. “That might do it.” 

They laughed as Snafu got them onto the road, but the pit from before was back in Eugene’s stomach. It was one thing to say they were doing this, but actually being in the car, driving away from what had been their home? That was a whole other game, and he wasn’t sure he knew the rules of it well enough to play it right. 

They stayed quiet as they drove-the cats were making enough noise for two cars, let alone just theirs. It was comforting, just watching Snafu as he drove. The little twitch of his jaw every now and again, and how he’d instantly toss his arm across Eugene if they had to make a sudden stop. The way he’d occasionally crack and roll his neck, yet never complaining that it was stiff. 

There was the rest of the state, plus entirely new ones to watch as they drove too. Different flora and fauna, neighborhoods and main streets with little shops unique to them, all passing them by. 

The two hours passed faster than he’d expected. They’d left a little after noon, then suddenly it was about 2:30, and they were pulling up to a gas station in Richmond. 

“Ugh,” Snafu grimaced as he got out of the car. “Gotta walk about for a bit before we keep goin’, or my legs are gonna waste away.” 

“Same,” Eugene admitted. It hadn’t been that horribly far, but his legs and back didn’t care about that. “Least the kids are finally quiet.” 

The cats had finally calmed. They didn’t look pleased, but they were quiet. 

“Yeah. I’ll let them out, probably one by one to see if they need their box. Don’t want them trying to run off,” Snafu said, opening the back door to lean in and take the cover off of the litter box. 

Eugene wandered while Snafu fussed with the cats, looking around at the surrounding buildings. He always wondered how things might have been different, if the train had stopped anywhere else. If they’d gotten off of it sooner, or tried to go back to Mobile or New Orleans together. He wouldn’t change any of what had happened for anything, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be curious. 

“We’re all cleaned up and fueled up. Ready to go when you are,” Snafu called from the car. 

“Really? No extra walking, or a bathroom break?” Eugene asked as he jogged back over. 

Snafu shrugged. “I’m okay. But if you need a minute-” 

Eugene shook his head. “Nah. Just-I don’t know.” 

“All up in that smart head of yours, overthinkin’ things?” 

He smiled. “Yeah. I guess so. Just thinkin’ how weird it is, driving through all these places. All these people living and going about their day. Wondering what it’d be like if we’d ended up here, or anywhere else.” 

Snafu nodded. “I think about that too, sometimes. Would we have found a decent place to live? Decent jobs? As it is, I still can’t get over them bein’ okay with us just up and going, never to return.” 

“Told them both it was a family thing. They understood,” Eugene replied. He’d taken over calling their jobs that morning, as soon as he knew their supervisors would be in. The library he’d been working at raised no issue and asked no extra questions about it once he’d mentioned family, and the mechanic that Snafu had worked for only asked kindly if everyone was going to be okay before wishing them the best and saying he’d miss Snafu around the shop. 

“Good idea. I mean, it technically is. Any idea what you might do once we get down there?” Snafu asked. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll just see if there isn’t another mechanic in need of help. Like workin’ with my hands like that, think I’d miss it if I did anything else.” 

“Not exactly. But since we don’t have to pay for the house or anything, kinda thought about school,” Eugene replied as he went to the driver’s side and got in. 

Snafu nodded and went to the passenger side. “Well, whatever you wanna do, I’ll help you get it however I can. I’m not much for studying, but I promise I’ll do my best to help, if that’s what you end up doin’.” 

“You could go back too, if you wanted,” Eugene said as he started the car and pulled them back onto the road. This next leg was a bit longer, three hours rather than two, taking them to Fayetteville, North Carolina. He just hoped the cats would be okay with the extra hour of driving. 

“Aw jeez,” Snafu sighed. “I mean…someone has to be bringing in some cash for food. I’ll let you go back and get your degree first, then we can worry about me.” 

“If you say so,” Eugene smiled. He suddenly had an image of Snafu in a pair of thick glasses, poring over a textbook. It was both incredibly goofy and wonderfully adorable, and if anything horribly inaccurate. The actual image of Snafu studying, he figured, was similar to watching him read. Usually with a look of slight concentration that just wrinkled his brow, with his shirt off if it was summer or a blanket over him in the winter, slouching on the couch or laying with his legs across Eugene’s lap. The sight always made Eugene lose his spot in whatever book he was reading. 

They settled into their comfortable silence as Eugene drove, and eventually he heard the sound of Snafu snoring. He’d been waiting for it-he knew he was more tired than he’d let on. They’d both taken their coats off midway on the way to Richmond, as it got warmer the further South they went, and now Snafu was using them both as a blanket. 

The trip felt longer when he was driving, and he couldn’t help but yawn as he pulled up to a gas station in Fayetteville a little after six o’clock. 

Snafu woke with a start as he turned the car off. “Sorry, sorry. I passed out on ya. Didn’t mean to.” 

Eugene shrugged. “Not a big deal. Not much to do if you aren’t driving, might as well sleep. I know I will. Speaking of-you really wanna keep going? We can probably find a motel room easy enough.” 

Snafu chewed at his bottom lip, then shook his head. “Bet they won’t want us to bring the cats in. And if they ask questions-” 

“Friends can go on road trips together,” Eugene said, but he couldn’t convince himself that Snafu was wrong. It was an added factor, wondering if they’d be questioned in any way or unable to find a spot to rest based on what people might figure out about them. They were being careful-no kisses, no hand-holding, even though it killed him not to do any of it. But you could never be too careful. 

“I’ll be okay,” Snafu said. “Tell you what, how about we go hour by hour for the night? Just pull over on the shoulder or wherever we can for a few minutes, then switch. We can both get a bit of sleep, but neither one of us has to drive too exhausted.” 

“I like that,” Eugene said as he got out of the car. “What say we hit the bathroom, then she’s all yours?” 

They made their break quick, then switched sides as they got back to the car. For a second at the front of the car, Eugene paused to grab Snafu’s hand and give a squeeze. He couldn’t bear not touching him in all the little ways they usually did. 

Back in the car, Snafu grabbed his hand and pressed a quick kiss to it before starting the car. “Ready for Augusta?” 

“Sure!” Eugene laughed. “Just another three and some hours away, right? Oh god-we aren’t driving anywhere for a week after this.” 

“Agreed,” Snafu smiled as he started the car and they headed out yet again. “Now get some sleep-you only got an hour, after all.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, leaning back in the seat and using Snafu’s coat as a blanket. He had a feeling it would be a quick hour.

[toughcookiegirl]

It’s been a long time...

I haven’t posted an update on this blog in two years. Yikes! So sorry to the people who have been checking up on this. Everything’s gotten so hectic with covid so this blog was completely forgotten.

To give a little rundown: My daughter Diana is autistic. She’s a premutation carrier of fragile X syndrome. She has social anxiety and sensory disorder.

My son Colin does not carry the fragile X gene. More on him in a bit.

To give an update on Diana...she is THRIVING. She is 9 years old (4th grade) and doing phenomenal in school. When she first started school in Kindergarten, her IEP was focused on the fact she could barely speak and couldn’t comprehend most of what the teacher was saying. She could read (she’s hyperlexic) but she couldn’t understand and writing a sentence was an hour long fight. 

Now she’s in the gifted program with strong talents in the visual-spatial areas. She’s doing great in STEM related subjects. She’s now writing essays and short stories. She loves digital animation and constantly puts up little fun animations on her Scratch. She now has friends at school and at girl scouts. Such a major deal for my little loner girl!

Her speech is still a bit awkward (her speech therapists say that her words get easily jumbled in her head and she halts a lot trying to get them out), but she’s speaking and communicating with others. I look back on my blog and I see how anxious I was but now I’m so grateful that she’s doing so well in school. Even her ILC teacher couldn’t stop gushing about her during our last conference, saying that Diana is the model student and a great example of what can be accomplished for others in the program. He believes this is the last year she’ll be in ILC because he truly feels she has no need for it. Ironic that the teachers feel that the year she did in virtual schooling from covid was probably a large contribution to her confidence and social growth. 

It’s so hard to believe that Diana, who struggled so hard in school, had so many breakdowns and difficulties, finally hit her stride in the 4th grade. 

Now over to Colin. When Colin was 3, I took him to childfind to get him evaluated because I was worried he was going to be delayed like his sister. Other than some mild issues with not wanting to play alone, they found nothing wrong with him. Colin is incredibly social (unlike his sister) and had no speech delays. 

However, with Kindergarten, he’s struggling. His Kindergarten teacher is the same as Diana’s, so we thought it might be an advantage. But unlike his sister, Colin doesn’t have a diagnosis and he has no IEP. He’s having trouble focusing, he can’t write on his own, he doesn’t do anything unless he’s told specifically what to do, and he barely knows any of his sight words. He still speaks in baby talk.

Granted, covid is partly to blame for his delay. Preschools around us shut down during the pandemic so he never got to go. Also, I was warned by Diana’s speech therapist to look out for Colin’s speech since younger siblings imitate their older siblings.

It breaks my heart that Colin is the slowest kid in his class and there are so many factors that could be why. Colin’s doctor believes he’s just behind because of covid. I have a feeling it might be a sign of ADHD or dyslexia. Currently, his kindergarten teacher is having the school’s speech therapist meet with him. I’m bracing myself for the news that she feels we should get him to a specialist. 

We’ll see what happens. I just have to remember that this feeling of uncertainty is the same thing I felt with Diana when she was his age. I know it’ll pass, and with help he can get better. 

Covid was the worst and best thing to happen to our family I guess.

[shireness-says]

Playing the Part

Prologue: Overture

Summary: As a stage manager who's clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T for language. Also on AO3.

A/N: It’s finally here - the Broadway AU I’ve been threatening to write for ages! I’m excited to finally post this, and I hope you’re excited to read it. I’ve got a bunch of these saved up - 7 completed chapters and significant chunks of 4 more - so I should be able to post these every Monday.

I had a lot of help getting this to its final state, so special thanks to @katie-dub for coming up with the title, @kmomof4 for proofing my outline, and @snidgetsafan for her ever-exceptional beta skills. Y’all are the best.

Each chapter title will be pulled from musical songs. The overture is traditionally the music that plays after the lights dim but before the show starts, and oftentimes sets the stage for the show to come by combining snippets of the musical numbers to come.

Overarching disclaimer: my theater experience is purely on the community theater level and only on the techie side, not the acting side. I strive for accuracy, but pull on my own experience and as such may not achieve it.

Tagging those who have expressed interest or I think will like this: @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, @revanmeetra87, @onceuponaprincessworld, @courtorderedcake, @snowbellewells, @branlovesouat, @aerica13, @searchingwardrobes, @teamhook, @awkwardnessandbaseball. Send me a message if you want me to keep tagging you or to be added to this list!

Without further ado: enjoy!

Emma Swan falls into working theater crew somewhat on accident.

That’s the story of her life, really – unexpectedly pregnant at 18, moved to New York on a whim (the reasoning being roughly “if not now, when?”), ended up with a job at Granny’s Diner because it happened to be next to what must be the only free parking in the city, and with a roommate because the owner’s granddaughter just happened to be looking for an apartment and a roommate at that very time.

In the same vein, while it was less of an accident that she became friends with Mary Margaret Blanchard (NYU theater major and friend of Ruby’s who liked to study at the diner), it was entirely by chance that Mary Margaret got her working crew. The truth of the matter is that Emma had a 4-month-old and very little cash, and the NYU theater department needed someone to do some scenery painting. While she may not have been the most artistic of people, Emma was pretty sure that she could handle putting paint on the wall. She could come in whenever she wasn’t working at Granny’s, and best of all, she could bring Henry with her in his carrier. It’s a perfect convergence of circumstances. The powers that be must have been pleased, because come show week, they’d asked her to stay and help move sets. And after that, well… things just spiraled from there.

The funny thing is that Emma had never considered herself a theater fan. When she had started working NYU shows, it had just been a job, not some great passion. Granted, she had only seen a terrible high school production of Fiddler on the Roof and a nearly worse community theater production of Ragtime – and both only because they were free and through her school at the time. There just wasn’t really a chance to see any quality theater as a foster kid. Ruby, when she found that out, naturally decided to fix the situation immediately by taking Emma and Mary Margaret to see Chicago for her own birthday. And as soon as Emma heard “All That Jazz”… she was gone. There was no going back.

Emma somehow found herself an unofficial member of the NYU theater family, especially when visiting lecturers and special events used the auditorium – events that still needed staffing but that the theater majors were reluctant to assist with. From there, she followed Mary Margaret and Ruby (their own aspiring costume designer) through their own smaller roles and shows. Ruby took extra classes in hair and makeup at a local cosmetology school, hoping to expand her portfolio of talents. Mary Margaret kept adding to her resume any way she could, working on any show that would cast her. And Emma somehow continued working her way up the ranks, recommended by word of mouth, towing a toddler (and later a child) along with her. Somehow, all those fortunate accidents brought her here, to this moment – an adult with her own place, a great kid, a support system of friends she views as family, and an ever-rising positive reputation in a decently paid profession. For someone who thought, ten years ago, that her life would be a series of dead end jobs and tiny apartments shared with roommates she’d despise, every day is like she’s living a dream.

This feels like the pinnacle of her achievements, however. She’s certainly worked as a stage manager before – in fact, it’s become her own niche, calling the shots. Her unconventional education has resulted in a working knowledge of nearly all the aspects of technical theater, which has proved incredibly helpful in dealing with her various colleagues. It’s like speaking another language - people are more willing to fill her in on the more complicated terminology when she shows she knows the basics. But this… this is a whole different thing. This isn’t one of her Off-Broadway shows, or one of her limited runs, but a major production. It wasn’t supposed to be – when she signed on as stage manager, set to work with a young director she came up with at NYU, it was still Off-Broadway, an adaptation of Pride & Prejudice they already knew would either be a huge hit or sink into obscurity. But then, some investor who loved the original work caught wind of Merlin’s vision, and suddenly, they had a significantly higher budget, a theater right in the heart of the theater district, and likely a lengthy run – if all goes well. Oh, and one more thing had significantly increased – the pressure on everyone involved.

Of course, just to complicate things, the change in venue isn’t the only thing weighing on Emma’s mind. Initially, Emma had been asked to serve as one of the assistant stage managers, to work backstage the way she prefers and relaying the stage manager’s orders, helping the entire show run smoothly. However, even that plan had changed. The intended production stage manager, finding herself pregnant with twins and violently ill as a result, chose not to participate in the show. Emma can’t blame her – she remembers how tired she was with Henry, and he was only one baby. But Merlin had then asked Emma to step up into an expanded role, saying that he trusted her for this position more than anyone else.

Emma’s flattered, she really is, but the truth is that she’s never run a show at this level. Call the cues for a show, check the equipment, coordinate everything that needs to happen? Yes, sure, of course. She can do that  in her sleep now (somewhat literally, sadly – she’s developed an unconscious habit of dreaming the various light cues). She’s stage managed her smaller shows without any issues. But with a budget this large and stakes this high? Feeling like she personally is the linchpin that could make this show soar or crash in spectacular fashion? On a show they’re all aware could make their careers? That’s new, and terrifying, and Emma privately wonders if she’s the right woman for the job.

But she takes the promotion for that very reason - it’s new, and an incredible opportunity to get her name out there if the production succeeds. She’d be an idiot to turn this down, but that doesn’t make her any less nervous.

Really, at the end of the day, this latest promotion is representative of how she’s made her way through most of her career – a bunch of happy accidents and an unwillingness to say no to any opportunity, now having lead her to a cold room and a crowd of men who all want to be Mr. Darcy.

Nice.

Honestly, this part of the job leaves her as basically a glorified secretary, recording everyone’s contact information so that she and Merlin can handle callbacks later. He asks for her opinion every so often, but honestly, what is he expecting her to say? She can’t carry a tune, and her opinions are usually “yeah, he seems like he won’t be a complete pain in my ass”. They’ve already pre-cast their Elizabeth – a lovely woman named Belle French, who had been an up-and-coming TV actress before an ugly scandal with a prominent producer – but Merlin had wanted someone new for Mr. Darcy. Emma can’t help but understand and agree with that decision – Mr. Darcy is somewhat of an unknown factor for so much of the source material, it seems appropriate that their actor also be something of an unknown quantity, someone the public doesn’t know how to define yet. Unfortunately, they must have overly emphasized the arrogant side of Darcy in the casting call, not the shy romantic, which seems to have brought out every egotistical actor in the city - all convinced that they would be perfect for the role. Don’t get her wrong, the arrogant façade Darcy presents is certainly important (and definitely present in this room, good lord), but Pride & Prejudice was one of the few books in high school Emma actually enjoyed – she knows there needs to be more than that. Whoever they choose needs to also be able to pull off a certain amount of vulnerability, a certain level of discomfort and awkwardness. So many of these would-be Darcys are just too… suave for her taste.

That’s why she’s particularly hopeful about this next prospect. He had swaggered in, as confident as the rest, but as she’d watched him interact with the others, there had been a certain amount of nerves that the rest weren’t letting show. He aces the choreography audition (perhaps because he throws himself into rehearsing in a way the others don’t, like it’ll ruin their persona if they’re shown practicing the steps), has a singing voice that will work well for Darcy (while looking adorable, scratching behind his ear when they ask about his relatively small experience on the stage). What really sells things for Emma, however, is how, when introduced to Belle for a test of how they’ll act together, he stutters over all his words and turns bright red after finally blurting out a “oh, I’ve heard so much about you!”. He’s an awkward mess behind that swagger and false confidence, and it’s a little perfect.

(It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes, and one of the more polite Darcys she’s dealt with today.)

So when, after a very long day, she’s asked her opinion about the variety of men who auditioned that day, Emma doesn’t hesitate to put her personal vote in for Killian Jones.

God, she just hopes she doesn’t come to regret that decision.

[sparklytastemakerwitch]

What is a Paper Making Machine?

I know you’re looking for a paper bag machine that’s why you are here.

Maybe, you want to be a paper bag wholesaler or make branded designs for your retail business.

The truth is, paper bags are dear packages for food vendors, retailers, and even manufacturers.

But, how can you venture in this business?

Or, what is the most cost effective way of making paper bags?

Today’s guide debunks the facts behind paper bag making process and machine such basic definition, working principle, classification, design, technical specification, etc.

So stay with me to be an expert in paper bag making industry.

Let’s begin with some facts.

Apart from the other devastating problems associated with plastic bags, did you know that synthetic bag manufacturers produce about one trillion of those bags in a year globally?

Did you also know that it takes one thousand years for a single bag of this kind to biodegrade?

Yes, that’s the scariest part of it.

Due to that, most governments are imposing bans on these carriers.

The alternative?

A mega-shift to more environmentally friendly paper bags.

So basically a paper bag making machine is a state of the art machine that gathers, folds, stamps, and processes papers to produce clean paper bags.

These paper bags are for use in the packaging of goods in various industries such as food, pharmaceutical products, grocery, and baking industries.

The bag making machines come in various configurations depending on the type of bags for final production.

Therefore, the paper bag making system should be versatile enough to cater to the dynamics in the paper bag manufacturing.

Today different paper bag making stakeholders such as the machine manufacturers, raw material suppliers face a lot of shifting customer demands, government regulations, changing prices, etc.

It’s thus good only if the machine can afford the manufacturer some relief.

For that matter, it means that you need to know all the factors related to the paper bag making the machine.

Besides, all the accompanying dynamics before making a purchase.

Luckily, I have compiled all that you need to know in this article.

The history of development and use of paper bag making machine dates back to the 19th century.

During these early stages, the systems were simple and mechanically operated.

With that, we move to the next step.

Where to Use Paper Bag Making Machine

Take a moment to reflect on the occasions you use a paper bag.

Indeed paper bag forms a vital integral in our lives today.

From simple uses such as carrying random goods to more complex ones such as in pharmaceuticals to wrap up drugs.

One thing is for sure.

Without paper bag making machine, we would be missing a significant aspect of our lives.

Surely, there are numerous uses of paper bag making the machine.

Subsequently, the produced paper bags can be classified under different distinct categories depending on their purposes.

We carry stuff in them -– groceries, clothes, gifts, trash and booze. I carried my lunch to school in one until the fourth grade because my mother would decorate them with stickers and drawings. People add sand and candles to them to illuminate their neighbourhoods at Christmas. Disgruntled sports fans cover their heads with them. But how many people know where the flat-bottomed paper bag came from? Or that its invention was a triumph of feminism over patriarchy, and of brains over bullying?

For most of recorded history, containers were made of leather, wood, cotton and reeds. Paper, made by hand one sheet at a time, was a luxury, used only for books, records and letters by the literate few. In 1799, a French inventor named Louis-Nicolas Robert was granted a patent for a machine that produced rolls of paper. This invention brought paper to the masses. Soon, merchants were using rolled paper, or ‘cornucopias’, to package small quantities of goods, with predictably messy results. They also constructed rudimentary paper bags by hand, which was a time-consuming and not always successful process.

The race was on to produce a paper bag that was both sturdy and easy to make. In 1852, the American Francis Wolle received the first patent for a square bottom paper bag machine. It used steam and paste to create bags in the shape of envelopes. Though the machine became popular, the bags it produced were cumbersome and of limited use – picture a load of groceries in a large envelope-shaped sack. Still, they were better than nothing at all, and factories producing the bags multiplied. In the late 1860s, Margaret Knight, a tall, endlessly inquisitive and hard-working New Englander, went to work for the Columbia Paper Bag Company in Springfield, Massachusetts. Within a few years, her ingenious designs would revolutionise the industry.

Born in 1838, Knight’s childhood was shaped by the industrial revolution. At first glance, hers is the classic victim’s story – raised by a widowed mother, and put to work by the age of 10 in the brutally inhospitable cotton mills of New Hampshire. But from her earliest days this uneducated labourer had an agile, inventive mind. While still a child, Knight saw a fellow worker injured when a steel-tipped shuttle shot off a loom. She soon created a shuttle cover to prevent any more accidents, and her invention was adopted by her factory. In an interview with the progressive Woman’s Journal in 1872, she recalled her unconventional youth: As a child, I never cared for things that girls usually do; dolls never possessed any charms for me. I couldn’t see the sense of coddling bits of porcelain with senseless faces: the only things I wanted were a jack-knife, a gimlet, and pieces of wood. My friends were horrified. I was called a tomboy; but that made very little impression on me. I sighed sometimes, because I was not like the other girls; but wisely concluded that I couldn’t help it, and sought further consolation from my tools. I was always making things for my brothers; did they want anything in the line of playthings, they always said: ‘Mattie will make them for us.’ I was famous for my kites; and my sleds were the envy and admiration of all the boys in town.

By the time she joined the Columbia Paper Bag Company as a lowly factory worker, the 30-something, unmarried Knight had spent years as a ‘Jill-of-all-trades’, becoming proficient in daguerreotype, photography, engraving, house repair and upholstering. Spending long hours at the factory, she soon heard of current efforts to create a flat bottom paper bag machine that could efficiently manufacture flat bottom paper bag. ‘I am told that there is no such machine known as a square-bottomed machine,’ she wrote in her journal. ‘I mean to try away at it until I get my ideas worked out.’ Independent of the factory and without her bosses’ knowledge, Knight began to study the issue intently.

By 1867, she was hard at work on creating a machine that could ‘cut, fold and paste bag bottoms itself’. Her work kept her up at night, leading the manager of her boarding house to declare: ‘I saw her making drawings continually… always of the machine. She has known nothing else, I think.’ Her work on the machine also bled into her shifts at the factory. This initially annoyed her superiors – until she showed them her plans – which led them to believe that she had a ‘keener eye than any man in the works’. After a ‘rickety’ wooden model of her machine proved successful, producing thousands of ‘good, handsome bags’, she had an iron version produced in 1868. While the machine was at a Boston shop to be refined, it was viewed by Charles F Annan, a would-be-inventor of dubious morality.

Knight prepared to apply for a patent for her new machine. In 1871, she was shocked to find that Annan had already been granted a patent to the machine, which he claimed as his own. The dispute ended up in court, where the cash-strapped Knight spent $100 a day to hire a patent attorney to prove that she was the machine’s true inventor. Annan’s lawyer argued that an uneducated, self-taught woman could never have built such a sophisticated machine. He was countered at every turn by the mountains of physical evidence and eye-witness testimony Knight produced. ‘I have from my earliest recollection been connected in some way with machinery,’ Knight protested. In the end, the commissioner of patents found in favour of Knight, though officials could not resist chastising her for waiting so long to apply for her patent. However, since Knight was not a ‘man of business’, this oversight was forgiven.

On 11 July 1871, Knight was granted patent number 116,842 for her ‘new and improved shopping paper bag machine for making paper bags’. She soon formed the Eastern Paper Bag Company with a partner, and became a media darling for her revolutionary machine, which did the work of 30 labourers. The new stand-alone, flat-bottomed bags were quickly adopted by large department stores and grocers, and Knight was awarded a royal honour from Queen Victoria. In 1883, Charles Stilwell of the Union Paper Bag Machine Company, working from Knight’s patent, further advanced the paper bag with his invention of a machine that produced the Self-Opening-Sack (SOS), the pleated flat-bottomed bags that are used today.

The vivacious Knight, dubbed by one paper the ‘lady Edison’, would spend the rest of her long life – she died aged 76 in 1914 – inventing. By 2006, when she was inducted into the Paper Industry International Hall of Fame, it was estimated that around 25 billion paper sacks were used annually throughout the world.

In the past decade, Knight’s dramatic story has been told in two popular children’s books – Marvelous Mattie (2006) by Emily Arnold McCully, and In the Bag! (2011) by Monica Kulling. She is emblematic of a whole multitude of female inventors, such as Mary Anderson (the windshield wiper), Katharine Blodgett (non-reflective glass), and Stephanie Kwolek (Kevlar), who created life-changing inventions within industries – and a world – dominated by men. Their stories are important and should be better known. They can inspire future generations of girls and young women to tinker, experiment and invent.

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch?

This also got crazy-long for a short reply so its under a cut again

Adjusting to normality included going back to work. The pay-out from Weyland-Yutani was enough that she didn’t need to ask for her shop back at the docks, however after a case of cabin fever combined with post-traumatic stress sent her into a mental breakdown, her (partner? boyfriend? lover?) suggested she find something to occupy her mind and hands, and possibly get her outside.

It was surreal, being back here after so long away, after so much happened. Here, the private engine shop that serviced everything from cars to crater rovers to flight carriers and segments of space stations, the biggest changes that happened since she had left was that their boss retired, and they hired a new electrical engineer. Oh yes, and they were all rather excited to tell her about the new lift. Utterly mundane.

Still, it was something to do, something to focus on and think on, and throwing herself into her work had always been how she worked through her earlier (though much more minor) issues. The new boss was a previous team member who liked her enough, and everyone welcomed her back with relative warmth. And coming home the first day to someone who had–against orders–made a nice dinner and procured a bottle of wine; followed by a back rub that she wasn’t sure made her more relaxed or more awake than she’d been all evening.

Ripley’s first two weeks went by as such, sometimes having to be nearly pulled out of bed by her well-meaning resident robot. By Friday he noticed, however, that while she always had a piece of toast, or handful of whatever fruit she could find (”Why do you do this to me?” “You don’t eat enough vegetable material and cannot survive off pad thai and pizza alone.” “I did so far and turned out–well, I’m alive aren’t I?”) and always a large mug of some kind of caffeinated drink. Once to his horror she had poured a bottle of emergency energy shot into her travel cup with a soda, and walked out the door as if it was a normal thing for her to do. Considering the level of soda left in the fridge, he realized that she’d been taking one to work each day; but the more he looked over their supply he realized that unless she was buying lunch on her break, she had been having a can of diet soda every day.

“Ripley? Someone’s looking for you,” the kid, one of the newer employees, gave her a cautions glance. He’s mildly afraid of me. Good.  “Looks like a guy from the company.”

“Jesus fuck.”

She sat up, turned off her welding torch and took her mask off, debating between preparing to defend herself, or to just start a loud profanity laced tirade against whatever demon they sent to her.

Instead, she was greeted by a much better scenario entirely.

“Chris,” she sighed. “You’re a cliche.”

“In my defense I didn’t think that you would have been welding on the dock’s electric again. Haven’t they replaced it?”

“Apparently not,” she nodded to an older patch job, about seven feet down where this scene had played out two years ago. “And not that I don’t like seeing your face, but….why are you here?”

“I brought you lunch.”

“You didn’t have to do that,”

“Did you pack lunch?”

“I–”

“A can of coke doesn’t count.”

“Okay so no, but you always cook dinner so I’m fine, really. I prefer to work while everyone else is on break anyway.” she wiped her arm over her forehead, in an attempt to clean up some of the soot and sweat, only succeeding in spreading the grim and adding oil to the mess. Samuels bit back an amused smile. 

“Too late, I already walked here–”

“You walked, that’s like…it’s a fifteen minute commute by trolley how the fuck–”

“My batteries last a little longer than a human’s.”

“……right.”

“And it’s already on your break room table, if you’d like to take your legally required thirty minute break now.”

“Company man to the core processor aren’t you?” she teased lightly, bumping his hip with hers as she walked past him and enjoying the half-second of flustered bewilderment it earned.

The break room table had a steaming bowl of oatmeal that didn’t look like the lumpy instant kind she usually bought, and a plate of various fresh fruits beside it.

“I had fruit this morning,”

“And the suggested amount for a female of your age and activity level is more than one strawberry on your way out the door,”

“I’m not a child,”

“Looking after your health isn’t a way of belittling you, at least not intentionally. I merely want to keep you around for as long as I can.”

Oh. That was sobering.

“How about I promise to pay more attention to my diet and you agree not to micromanage my phsyical health?”

“Agreed,” Amanda sat down at the table, giving his latest creation a hesitant taste, knowing full well it wouldn’t have the three spoons of sugar she usually dumped in hers. None. Still, it wasn’t bad, and she was torn between asking where he learned to cook so well, and not wanting to see his sheepish smile when he, in a guilty tone, mumbled something about just downloading the instructions. 

“Any good?”

“Very, thanks. Sit down, stay a while before you hike back,” 

“….Thank you,”

“You didn’t just thank me for asking you to stay with me?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever fully adjust to you permitting, requesting my company.”

“Mmm, the adoration is nice now, but it’s gonna get stale quick. Adjust. Get used to it. I told you before that I’m keeping you–until you decide you want to leave. And then please, leave. But for now…” she smiled. “I like the view, and would like you. To. Stay.”

Amanda started to eat, no longer embarrassed at doing so in front of someone that didn’t need to, and Samuels reached across the table for her hand that wasn’t holding a spoon, another marvel, that he could request her touch, and she would grant it with a smile. 

“The last time I was here, I wanted to touch you–oh that sounded…wrong. I meant in a…in the way a human would perhaps give a touch, social contact to give you comfort but even if my programming allowed me to do it…You gave off the sense that you would have broken my hand if I tried.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I love you.”

It didn’t shock her, didn’t surprise her in the least; once he had managed to say the words without stuttering, or outwardly panicking, he had been saying it at random moments, at least once a day. And each time he did it, it still seeped in and sent an icy heat through her. A reminder of the impossibleness that she wasn’t, as she always assumed she was, destined for isolation.

“There’s a supply closet in that door behind me.”

“Relevance?”

“Never mind,” there wasn’t enough time left to her break anyway, but the look he was giving her was melting her from the inside, and even if it wasn’t for sex, she wanted to hide somewhere with him, holding him close and tight, feeling his vitals hum under his skin he’s alive and he’s with me and we are safe, he’s alive, he’s here, we’re safe.

Someone in the main area of the shop starting a metal saw made her jump, and Samuels sprung up from his seat to reach over table, his hands on her shoulders “Easy, luv…”

“Sorry–I’m sorry nothing’s bothered me yet–I was just zoning out and  I–”

“I worry about you. I know you’re safe here, but…I still worry.”

“We’re a mess.”

“At least, for me, a synthetic could probably think of very few people to ‘be a mess with’ than an engineer. I’ve lucked out in every possible way.” he was perched on the side of the table to her right, one hand still on her shoulder, moving up to hold the side of her face.

“I have too. No one’s ever brought me homemade lunch at work before,” she pushed the bowl and plate aside, and sat up next to him, impressed the metal retired-worktable could hold them both. “I’m doing something nice for you tonight. Message me what kind of wine you want, or tea, or beer, or whatever you want. And then anything you can think of, I’ll do it.”

“You don’t have to,” he said softly, as she rest her forehead against his, their noses brushing before she kept hers to one side of his,

“Not just physical; I mean anything. Any movie you want, any updates, upgrades, decor for the flat…Let me do something for you,”

“It isn’t necessary,”

“Please?”

“I’d like…us to read tonight together, maybe work the micro-generator you brought home last week, take a bath, and then you can tell me about this place, and about your first job here,” 

her eyes crinkled a little, where confusion would be on its own with anyone else wanting to know specifics, there was also affection, and an annoying inability to hide her sheer joy at having a connection with another person. Even someone that few others would consider to be a person.

“Why in the world would you care about that?”

“I only know your past on paper, passive and one-sided, told by people that neither liked you nor knew you. And thus far, my dear, every time you display another facet of yourself, I find that my ability to care is only made…stronger. I like that feeling, and both selfishly, and for your own sake, I want to know everything about you that you could share,”

“Tonight….then tonight…like an interview then. You and me.” She leaned on him, and he leaned back with her, supported on the table by his free arm.

“‘Interview is rather clinical, so correct me if I’m wrong but couldn’t ‘learning more about one’s partner’ be considered a date?”

“Well you’re supposed to have those before you move in with someone.”

“I had no idea,” his sarcasm entertained her to no end, if only for how long it had taken her to realize he was capable of it.

“Now you do, and we have a date tonight.”

“Thompson?”

“Yeah?” 

“Who’s in there with Ripley? Boyfriend?”

“Company exec. I think he’s just a ‘droid though, so it can’t be anything too serious.”

“In that case go in and get her, then kick him out.  I don’t like those things–or those people–crawling around my shop poking for code violations.”

“Will do.”

[indianbusinesstimes]

Meet The Founder Of Omnipresent, Aakash Sinha; The Man Who Aided India To Reach The Moon!

Regarded as one of the pioneers in robotics and drone technology in India, Omnipresent Robot Tech was established in 2009 with a vision encapsulating the potential of drone technology in the country. In an exclusive interview with Indian Business Times, the Founder and CEO of Omnipresent, Aakash Sinha, takes us through his momentous journey.

He has a technical background with MS in Robotics from Carnegie Mellon University in the US. To apply his knowledge and gain some experience with research, he took on the roles of Research Scholar and Robotics Research Scientist at Lockhead Martin, which is a company active in the Aerospace Technology space. Being fascinated by robots, he, then joined another American firm, iRobot Corporation which designs and builds consumer robots.

It was post this experience that he decided to take the plunge and establish his own firm under the moniker, Omnipresent Robot Tech in 2009. The idea was to make robots, which was his area of expertise by then, into flying drones for applications that the world would witness only after a few years. Starting from there, to being the man to develop software for the mighty Chandrayaan - 2, Aakash Sinha and Omnipresent have surely come a long way. During this interview, Sinha elaborates what Omnipresent does, what are the potential areas of applications that are yet to be explored and some valuable tips for all the budding entrepreneurs out there sitting on the fence. So, without any further ado, let us get into this adventurous journey which is bound to get you motivated to follow your dreams as well.

“This kind of technology (Drone Technology) is something that people call disruptive technology. It has the potential to fundamentally change the way life, business and work are conducted.” - Aakash Sinha told Indian Business Times.

Humble Beginnings

The first (of many) landmark achievements that came Omnipresent’s way was the application in one of India’s largest oil refineries. Aakash Sinha demonstrated the use of a drone to monitor the defects and real-time parameters in the refinery which was done manually prior to that. The problems with that were the risk of life (because a person had to climb on the towers without any dedicated safety equipment) and heavy dependence on the data provided by that individual. Now, as one could imagine, the room for human error and inaccurate reading or information is very high in such situations. The drone technology solved these problems by being unbiased messengers which relayed the real-time images and information about the situation of the components and monitor everything. Resultantly, the drones were able to bring forth the issues that even the refinery personnel were unaware of. Realizing the immense value of drone technology, Omnipresent bagged its first project with the oil refinery and never looked back.

“Won’t be surprised to see the consumer drone market flourish where everyone might own a personal drone just the way they carry their mobile phones. It could be their companion on a solo trip to click selfies, record videos and capture the moments on a vacation.”

Current Applications

Arguably the most prestigious project undertaken by Omnipresent was developing the software for creating 3D images from a regular pair of images by Chandrayaan - 2 through its Rover, Pragyaan to map out the surface of the moon. This helps the Rover to navigate its way around the obstacles and generate a 3D model of the terrain of the lunar landscape. By creating this model, it became easier to simulate the Rover and enable movement from earth remotely. The very same rover is being sent with Chandrayaan - 3 with a comprehensive tech support from Omnipresent.  Evidently, it is an ambitious project and reflects the company’s vision to create something affordable and simple but effective.

Apart from this ground-breaking concept, the drones and robots from Omnipresent find usage in surveying, surveillance and inspection in large industrial establishments. The biggest industrial giants in India including Reliance, Adani and Aditya Birla Group reap the benefits of these services. Furthermore, Omnipresent has already secured projects from 6 State Governments in the areas of mapping, surveying and other sectors after having realised the potential of drone technology. The amount of cost and time saving through the use of drones is simply unparalleled and almost unthinkable just a decade ago. The other prominent services of Omnipresent entail cleansing of water bodies, enabling remote services during the Covid times, IOT (Internet of Things) based video analytics for vivid and sharp videos and images from the sites where drones are used, precision agriculture for spraying the right amounts of insecticides, pesticides, fertilizers and irrigation using drones and robots, detecting a failure in a crop to ensure quick corrective response.

“I see drones as flying robots. They can move by themselves and sense their surroundings. According to the situation, they can react as well. There was a tremendous need in India for something like that back when I started Omnipresent in 2009 and not a lot of people were doing it.”

Future Potential

The future prospects of drone technology are undeniably massive. As a matter of fact, we are at that stage of evolution of this technology that we can’t fathom the full-scale utilization of this technology. If you think we are exaggerating, consider the example of something we have all lived through, the Internet. Back in 1983, when the Internet is believed to be invented, could anyone have ever thought that it could allow us to watch someone a thousand miles away or get you anything you wish right at your doorstep? Even after almost 4 decades of the Internet, we are finding new applications. The drone technology is merely a decade old and the future is beyond comprehension.

However, we could see where it is headed and what the plans are for the next few years. In a few years’ time, drones will be used extensively for food and parcel deliveries, e-commerce and fast commerce, drone taxis which can cover hundreds of kilometres, mapping which would be used to measure every centimetre of ground in India and have the digital information available in any part of the country, complete overhaul in the drone-based agriculture which employs over half of country’s population, industrial assessments like communication towers, power lines, factory chimneys, cooling towers, surveying and constructing roads and highways as announced by the NHAI (Nation Highway Authority of India), Railway track maintenance, defence arsenal, passenger carriers for inter-city commute and much more.

The idea is to bring transparency for everyone involved so that the overall efficiency could be enhanced significantly. For the tech savvy, Omnipresent envisions that the most relevant future drone technology would be something known as the “Drone Nerve Center”. This could enable virtually any number of drones to be connected to a central headquarters to send and receive data and initiate the desired actions. Again, this software has been used in Pragyaan, the rover of Chandrayaan - 2, for perception and navigation. “All these are areas which we already know about and the trials have also begun in a few of these” – Aakash Sinha is confident that there will be at least 2 or 3 unicorns from this field in the immediate future and Omnipresent will be one of them. To put it simply, the possibilities are infinite.

“Not a lot of people know this, but Agriculture is a sector which will be highly driven by drones in a few years’ time. Over 50% of the Indian population finds employment in agriculture. Drones will be able to release adequate amounts of pesticides and diagnose problems in the crops timely, thereby cutting down input cost and boosting agriculture yield upto 20%.”

Commercial Drone Technology Requirements

Beginning to be used much more extensively, the Government realizes the potential and relevance of promoting drone technology in India. Consequently, the Govt. has announced a few relaxations to this formerly tightly restricted and regulated space. This has proven to be a boon to the companies in this space. The DGCA (Directorate General of Civil Aviation) has over 300 designated “green zones” where even the large drone (max weight 500 kg) would not require any permission to fly unto 400ft. In these areas, even long-range drone flights, night operations, variable payloads, deliveries and spraying are permitted. The “yellow zones” would require an automated permission to fly unto 200ft keeping 12 km away from the installations and airports. Furthermore, the drone weighing less than 250 g will not even require NPNT (No Permission No Takeoff) from the DGCA or the Government. Drone heavier than 2 kg would require a government-trained pilot but going forward, the Govt. might grant exemptions from these regulations on a case-by-case basis.  Aakash Sinha has applied himself tirelessly to receive all the certificates and licenses to fly the drones legally in India.

“We must laud the Government for the visionary policy relaxations to allow drone industry to grow exponentially. From being a heavily regulated space, the drone industry has become almost self-regulatory. This decision will attract myriad new investors to this sector”.

Valuable Lessons for Upcoming Entrepreneurs

It is not every day that one gets the guidance of someone for free, who has achieved so much in his field of expertise. We recommend you make the most of it by trying to apply these words of wisdom by the man himself. During the interview, when asked about how an entrepreneur should go about building his business, handle the company/products and tackle the investors, Aakash Sinha had the following gems to share.

•   An entrepreneur should not be passionate about the product blindly, but must have some actual data to ensure that the idea he is investing his time and resources in, has a chance to become successful.

•   An entrepreneur must relentlessly focus on improving his/her product or services every single day.

•   One must always look for the right investor and not anybody who is willing to throw his/her money around.

•   Ideally, the vision of the company must align well with the investors to achieve maximum potency.

•   Chase the big dreams but don’t think that you will always succeed, also be prepared for failures. Constant learning from failures are the stepping stones to big success.

“The future of drone technology lies in the software. With new requirements, you will relentlessly need to keep updating the software for drones. If you are someone who is interested in software programming, the drone industry is bound to be the future-proof space, especially in India” – Concludes Aakash Sinha.