#he's like 'yeah i can help i can do the invoices for those returns' but i haven't shown him how to send out the returns only the invoices so

[fazcinatingblog]

Waking up at 3am to do a Panadol because you're thinking about everything you have to do at work on Monday

[es-kay-zee]

Lust | Lee Know x Reader

I had plans to make this kinky as all hell, but I somehow ended up going the opposite direction with this. oh well, it was still pretty fun to write. I’m also sorry if there’s parts of it (or all of it?) that don’t make any sense. I didn’t proofread it at all and my head was just empty while writing it.

I was kinda liking it at one point, then I overthought about it and now I think I hate it but I put in all this time so it’s getting posted. I just feel like it kinda went all over the place

 Warnings: officemate! au, sexual tension (maybe? Idk, i tried), fem! reader, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), protected sex (yay!) there’s like a split second of softdom! Minho, but other than that moment there’s not really any dynamics.

Requested: Yip

Word count: 4.6k

 _______________________

It didn’t take a genius amongst your co-workers to be able to tell what was going on between you and Minho. Everyone could see the way you looked at each other. They could see the way you took extra time at the printer, considering it was right next to his desk. You would stand there for longer than necessary, just watching him work. How his fingers would type away on his keyboard, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. God, what you would do to have his fingers inside you.

No, you can’t think like that. He’s just your co-worker. He may be hot as all hell, but this is a professional environment, right?

It was also painfully obvious to everyone how Minho looked at you the same way. Just as you would spend extra time at the printer, he would spend extra time at your desk whenever he had to hand you some files. He would try to make some idle chit-chat with you, but really, he was just staring at your lips the whole time. While you would admire his hands and arms, he would admire your lips. He often found himself wondering just what your mouth was capable of.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t only see you as some pretty thing around the office. He also admired your dedication and work ethic. He loved how much effort you put into your job to ensure you produce the pest quality of work. But he wasn’t stupid, he could see just how hot you are.

But he’s not allowed to think of you in that way. He’s not allowed to spend many a night imagining your hand, your mouth wrapped around his cock instead of his hand. After all, you’re just co-workers. And it’s all professional, right?

That’s what you both keep telling yourselves. 

It’s a normal Friday, not long before midday, and you’re zoning out at your desk, trying to figure out what the hell you were going to do over the weekend. You’d originally had plans to meet up with a few friends, but they all cancelled on you, leaving you with nothing to do on the approaching Saturday and Sunday.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by someone waving a small folder in front of your face.

“Hey, earth to y/n?” You snap your attention onto the figure in front of you, quickly realising that it is, in fact, Lee Minho who’s standing at your desk. You hurriedly fix your posture, sitting up straighter and clearing you throat quietly before responding.

“A-are those some more files that need doing?” The way you stutter over your words has you internally cringing, hoping he can’t tell the effect he has over your body.

“Yeah, they’re the latest invoices that have come in. These ones need to be paid by Tuesday and then these ones need to be paid by Thursday,” he explains to you, holding up the two separate folders in his hands.

Reaching out your hand for the folders, you feel your fingertips brush against his once you grab them. You withdraw your hands as quickly as possible, feeling your heartbeat pick up slightly as the subtle contact. Your gaze lingered on his arms for a moment, his sleeves rolled up just the way you liked. Minho is so effortlessly attractive that it’s unfair.

You pry your eyes away from his forearms, away from the veins you can see running along his arms, instead looking at his face. The moment you look him in the eyes, however, you can’t help but think that maybe staring at his arms would have been the better option. His eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him, but the way he was looking at you right now, the way he was staring so intently at you, had you cowering slightly under his gaze.

“So, you had lunch yet?” he asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, resting his hands in his pockets.

“Not yet, was just about to head up to the cafeteria shortly,” you reply, your eye focus being caught by his stance. You can picture it, him standing over you just the way he is now, hands in pockets, forearms visible, smirk on his face. Just imagining him standing there like that, looking down at you like you’re some sort of prey while you’re on your knees for him. Slowly undoing his belt and-

“Well, I was gonna head up now. Wanna join me?” you are once again pulled from your wandering thoughts by Minho, but the damage had already been done. You could feel your neediness throbbing in your pussy, your slickness slightly coating your underwear.

“Uh, sure,” you say, quickly locking your computer and grabbing your lunch.

You walk with Minho back towards his own desk so that he can pick up his own food before making your way up stairs to the third floor. Once you both make it to the cafeteria for the shelves. You grab your mug before making yourself a coffee, Minho doing the same next to you.

You both head towards a back corner of the large room, finding two seats at a small coffee table. A small conversation begins between the two of you, somewhat awkward, but not uncomfortably so. The occasional silences weren’t left empty, instead being filled with lingering glances at one another.

You make it through all your food and just over half of your coffee before it happens. Disaster. Minho has looked away from you for just a moment and the sunlight cascading through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows hit him in just the right way. It made him glow in the light, distracting you while you took a drink from your mug. You weren’t focusing on anything but how delicious he looked in front of you, ending up with you tipping your mug up to far and spilling it all down your front and onto your lap.

Your small yelp snaps his attention back to you and you both just stare down at your soiled clothes. Heat rushes to your face when you realise the exact repercussions of what’s just happened, and the heat spreads when you notice that Minho has also realised it. Your white blouse drenched in coffee; the material becoming see through. Minho’s gaze lingers on your chest for a moment too long for between normal co-workers, your bra entirely visible through the now coffee-coloured fabric.

Minho clears his throat before speaking. “Uh- I’ll g-get something to help clean that up,” he stutters out, standing up as quickly as possible before rushing off to grab some napkins. It’s not long before he returns, a whole stack in his grip.

He places them on the table, taking his seat again. Picking a couple napkins back up he turns his whole body towards you. Your breathing stutters when he leans in close to you, your eyes looking deep into his as he freezes in place.

He’s torn. Torn between wanting to help you for your sake, wanting to help you for the sake of being able to touch you, and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and he wonders if you can hear it too. Especially with how close the proximity currently is between you two.

He takes a deep breath before making a decision about whether or not to help you clean up. He reaches his hand out, carefully beginning to dab at the spilled drink on your lap, fully expecting to be told to stop.

You tense under his touch, but not out of discomfort. It’s the way his hand moves along your thigh that has you frozen. Your thigh. One of the more sensitive parts of your body, and his hand is rubbing back and forth along it. The contact causing your brain to short circuit as you feel the heat begin to pool in your core.

“Um… Make sure to soak these clothes before you wash them. That should help get any stains out,” Minho says, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, yeah, thanks. I’ll be sure to do that,” you reply, his voice snapping you out of your stupor. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to ignore your growing arousal.

Minho has to fight back his own increasing need at the sight of you nibbling on your lower lip, wanting little more than for it to be his own teeth tugging at the soft flesh. But what really gets him, is you taking a few napkins and beginning to dab at the coffee on your shirt, unintentionally pulling his gaze back down to your chest. Now he was fighting back groans, trying desperately to let the sounds die in his throat before you get the chance to hear them. That would be too embarrassing for him to handle.

It’s not long before you sigh a heavy sigh, giving up the hopes of being able to save your outfit and keep your presentability for the workplace, accepting it as a lost cause. Minho stops his own wiping at the sound, looking at you instead, waiting for you to speak.

“You know what, this is a mess. I might as well just head home for the rest of the day. There’s no point sitting here at my desk all day like this,” you say, looking down at your clothes. “Besides, most of my work is done for the day anyway.”

It’s only when you lift your head up when you finish speaking that you realise just how close Minho’s face is to your own. Close enough for you to feel his breaths against your cheek. Your eyes dart down to his lips, but only for a split second, not wanting to make your arousal so obvious. Minho, however, notices. But luckily for you, he decides not to say anything about it. Yet.

“That sounds like a good idea. Uh… here,” he says, removing his blazer jacket and holding it out to you.

You reach out and grab it, your fingers once again momentarily connecting with his as you take the item he’s passing you. You both rise to your feet and you give him a confused look, wondering why he’s handing you his blazer.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to walk around with a see-through shirt,” he explains in response to your unspoken question.

The heat returns to your cheeks at his statement, quickly pulling the clothing item on and buttoning it up, making an attempt to cover yourself.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s some part of you that doesn’t really want to cover yourself, that wants Minho to see you. But you push that part aside. After all, you’ve got to maintain some sort of professionalism. “We should probably head back down now.”

“Yeah.”

You both gather your belongings, taking your mugs over to the dirty dishes rack and placing them in along with all the other dishes. Yet another silence befalls the two of you as you make your way back down the stairs to your floor, the quietness neither comfortable nor awkward. Something in between.

Finally reaching your floor, you make a beeline for your desk, aiming to grab your bag and get out of here as quickly as possible. But before you grab your things and head into your boss’s office to say that you’re leaving early, you pause, turning back to Minho again, stopping him before he gets too far away.

“I’ll get your jacket back to you on Monday if you want. I’ll even get it cleaned to make sure there’s no coffee on it.”

He takes a moment to think, once again torn between options. One being just saying okay and letting you just bring it to work with you on Monday. And the other option… Well, if the way you were almost whining when he was touching your thigh earlier is anything to go by, then the second option might just work out for him. Fuck it.

“Or you could bring it over to my place? Tonight? I-if you want to,” he says, making sure to keep his voice only loud enough for you to hear, not wanting any nosy co-workers listening in.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you think of the possible outcomes of you going over to his house, albeit under the guise of simply returning his blazer. You can already feel yourself growing wetter at the thoughts running through your mind. You blink rapidly, shaking your head slightly to yourself, remembering that you have to answer him instead of just standing there daydreaming all day.

“You’re in luck. I was gonna go out for a few drinks tonight, but my friends all cancelled on me. So, it turns out that I’m available,” you say, fighting hard to keep your voice steady and to not let on just how needy you were.

“Well, you could always have those drinks with me while you’re over,” he offers, stepping closer to your desk.

“I could.”

You both smirk at each other, knowing exactly what the outcome of tonight will be. Minho searches around your desk for a moment, eventually finding and grabbing a sticky note and a pen. He scribbles something down before handing it to you.

“That’s my address. See you at 7?”

“Sure thing, see you then.”

He smirks at you again before finally heading back to his own desk and you finally head off home, being sure to stop in and let your boss know you’re leaving.

______________________

Before long, 7 o’clock rolls around and you’re sitting in your car, parked on the road-side, opposite Minho’s house. Checking yourself in your rear-view mirror quickly, you make sure you look presentable before getting out of your car, his blazer draped over your arm. You’re somewhat nervous as you approach his front door, reaching up and knocking. It only takes a short moment before the door swings open, revealing Minho. He steps backwards, holding the door open as he gestures for you to enter. You step past him and into the house, taking in his appearance while he closes the door behind you.

His outfit is simple, a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but to you he looks damn fine. His jeans are tight enough to show off his thighs while not being too tight that it would create any struggle to remove quickly. That’s handy. And his shirt leaves his delicious arms on display. You look up at his face just to see him staring at you in the same way you were just starting at him. Like you’re the single best thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Hi,” you say, bringing his attention back to the current moment. He blinks a few times, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“Hey, you look really good.” He gestures towards your dress. You chose one that was simple, yet effective at its job. You wanted to wear something that showed off your legs, something that would get his attention. And judging by the way he kept looking you up and down, it was working.

“Here’s you blazer,” you say, holding it out for him.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” he replies, having already forgotten that he’d even let you borrow it in the first place. “I’ll just go put that away. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

He dashes off down the hallway, presumedly towards his bedroom. To take the moment alone to take in your surroundings, noting how Minho’s house had a very homely feel to it.

You take a seat on the couch while you wait for him to return. And it doesn’t take him long to do just that, already walking back up the hallway towards where you are. He heads to the kitchen first, grabbing a couple of glasses.

“I have some wine here. Want some?” he offers.

“Sure,” you say, knowing that soon enough the drinks will be abandoned in favour of other activities.

It’s not long before Minho approaches you, two glasses of wine in his hands. He hands one to you before taking a seat in the spot next to you on the couch. Directly next to you. He’s so close that the side of his leg rests against yours, but you’re not complaining.

“Try not to get too distracted by me again,” he says, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “We wouldn’t want you to spill another drink.”

You both laugh at his teasing statement, but your mind focuses on the word again and you realise that he did know the causing of today’s earlier mishap. Well, that’s a bit embarrassing.

The next short while is filled with more idle chit-chat, a measly attempt at wasting time before getting down to business. The entire time you’re talking, Minho’s arm is resting along the back of the couch behind your head and he’s very shamelessly eye fucking you. In his defence though, you’re doing the exact same thing to him.

“Do you want another glass?” Minho asks when you finish your wine, placing his hand that’s not currently resting on the back of the couch on your thigh. You let out an audible breath as his hand softly caresses the flesh, the feeling sending pools of arousal directly to your heat. As his fingers slowly trail further up, beginning to disappear under the skirt of your dress, you know that he’s not really offering you another drink. It’s his way of moving the conversation along, of asking you if you’re ready to do what you truly came here for.

And you’d be damned if you weren’t ready.

His fingers continue to travel higher, skimming along your inner thigh, avoiding where you desperately need him. You bite your lip, trying to stifle a whimper. It doesn’t work, and it instead draws Minho’s focus to your mouth. And he’s back to thinking about your mouth, how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The idea alone has him growing painfully hard in his jeans. Hell, he’d do anything to have your lips on him, in any way.

“M-Minho, please,” you whisper, wanting him to stop his teasing caresses and finally touch you the way you want. The way you need.

“Please what?”

“Please t-touch me.”

“Touch you? I am touching you,” he says, stopping his hand’s movements and instead just resting it in place.

“No, please touch my p-pussy,” you say, your hands coming up to cover your face, embarrassment coursing through your body, causing your face to heat up.

Normally, Minho smirked at you, getting a kick out of how flustered you are.

“Ah, I see. Well, if you want that to happen then you have to prove to me how much you want it.”

And that has you whining.

You quickly manoeuvre yourself so that you’re straddling Minho’s lap, tired of waiting for him to provide you with some much needed friction. Your hands rest on his shoulders, his own flying to your hips when you slowly, experimentally grind down on him. Your actions get the best reward, in the form on a shaky moan from Minho, and that’s the moment you can tell that this whole thing is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting you.

When he told you to prove it, he was expecting you to just get more flustered. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to make such a bold move. You roll your hips against him again, this time drawing a moan from yourself. One of his hands slides up your back, grabbing the zipper for your dress and slowly sliding it down. Once he has it undone, he pulls the dress up and off your body, revealing your lack of bra underneath. Shit, he hadn’t even noticed earlier that you weren’t wearing one, he was too distracted by your legs. He looks up at you, his own lust-filled eyes meeting yours, watching you lean in closer to him. Closer, and closer.

And then your lips – those oh so pretty lips – were on his own, moving together in a rush of adrenaline and lust. There was no delicacy in the kiss, only pure wanton desire as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. You’d both been waiting for this for so long. Craving it.

His hands slide down to your ass, kneading the flesh. He’s quick to stand up, keeping you held up, your legs wrapping around his torso. He carries you down the hallway, only breaking the kiss for a split second at a time to make sure he didn’t bump into anything, before he would dive back into your lips. Your kisses were intoxicating, addicting. Minho just couldn’t get enough. Even when he finally made it to his bedroom, dropping you down onto the bed, he still doesn’t pull away. It’s only when you pull away for breath that he stops, you both panting deeply from the lack of oxygen for so long.

Your hands glide across his linen-clad chest, the fabric warmed from his hot skin. He groans lowly at your touch, desperately wanting more. One of his own hands finds it’s way to your breast, his thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple.

His touch is soft, gentle. He’s testing the waters, wanting to figure out what you like, what touches really get you going. He knows he’s on the right track when your back arches slightly at the contact, and he grazes his thumbs over the nub again, harder this time.

You can feel how soaked you are, your underwear beginning to stick to you uncomfortably. You buck your hips upwards, trying desperately to get some sort of solid friction going, the aching between your legs bordering on painful. Sensing just how strong your need is, Minho pulls away from you, moving down the bed until he’s laying between your thighs, his fingers already dipping into the waistband of your underwear.

He wastes little time in pulling the fabric down your legs and tossing them off to the side. And now, finally, after so long of wanting it, he’s able to gaze upon your pussy, glistening with your juices.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet you’re dripping,” he exclaims, looking up and making eye contact with you. And it makes you clench around nothing when you look at the man that’s remained on your mind with his head between your thighs.

“Only for you,” you reply, even your voice dripping with need. Minho looks back down at your soaked cunt and, in the split seconds before his touch, every nerve in your body and mind comes alive with electricity.  He licks one long stripe along your entrance, and the moan you let out is obscene. And he loves it.

Minho is filled with a new determination, a determination to make you moan over and over again. To have you feeling so good that you’re screaming his name.

He circles his lips around your clit, working the nerve bundle with his mouth while he brings a hand down to work your entrance. He slides a digit it, immediately curling it in search of your special spot. He quickly adds a second finger, continuing his search for your g-spot. He knows he’s finally found it when your hands go flying to his head, threading into his hair, tugging hard. He groans at the sensation, loving the way your hands feel in his hair. God, everything you do just turns him on, and he begins to unconsciously rut his hips into the mattress. He continues working your core while you moan uncontrollably.

“F-fuck, Minho. I’m s-so close,” you manage to whimper out, but he already knows. The way your walls tighten around his fingers over and over tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do it, baby. Cum for me,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice, your orgasm washing over you with more force than you expected. He finger-fucks you through your high, only stopping when your body stops convulsing in waves of pleasure. He pulls his hand away from your core, a whine escaping you at the empty feeling. If he could make you cum that hard with just his fingers and mouth, how on earth are you going to survive cumming on his cock?

He crawls back up your body, placing his arousal-coated fingers at your lips. You open your mouth with no hesitation, immediately sucking the digits in, swirling your tongue over them as you sucked. The sight alone almost had Minho cumming in his jeans. For so long, all he’s wanted is your lips around some part of him, and while he also wanted to be graces with the visual of you sucking on his cock like your life depended on it, he was more desperate to just fuck you.

He wastes no more time in ridding himself of his clothes until he’s completely bare, reaching into his bedside table draw for a condom. positioning himself above you once again. He’s about to open the condom packet before you stop him, taking it from his hands opening it yourself. He moans when you slide the condom down his length, your hands feeling better on his cock than his own ever could.

The moment you lie back down, he lines himself up with your entrance, not wanting to go another moment without being inside you. He pushes into you, not stopping until his hips rest against yours, the room filling with moans as your bodies finally connect. His cock stretches your walls so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other.  

After a brief pause, he slowly pulls back you, only to thrust back into you. He repeats the motions, gradually settling into a solid pace, not to fast and not too slow, a perfect balance of the two.

He drags his lips up the soft skin of your neck placing sloppy kisses as over, being sure not to leave any marks. As much as he wanted to mark you where it was visible, he couldn’t. He didn’t want you to have to go through the hassle of covering them each day at work while you wait for them do disappear. Instead, he opted for sucking bruises into your collarbones and along your chest.

Your brain felt like static, unable to string together a single coherent thought as Minho continues to thrust into you, pleasure radiating throughout your entire body. The knot in your stomach grows tighter for the second time during the night, and from the way Minho’s thrusts are getting sloppier, you can tell that he’s close to his own end as well.

He slides his free hand in between the two of you, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into the bundle of nerves, and you feel yourself unravel, his fingers being the final to push you over the edge. And it’s your fluttering walls that has the same effect on Minho. You both ride out your highs together, him spilling into the condom and you around his cock. Your loud moans are music to his ears, while his are the same to yours.

Once you both come back down from your highs, Minho pulls himself away from you, quickly disposing of the condom before coming back to lay next to you.

Your body feels heavy, your brain foggy and distant, a tiredness falling over your entire being, exhausted from your orgasms. You groggily roll onto your side, curling your body up into Minho’s and almost instantly drifting off into sleep. He wraps an arm around you in return, feeling sleep approach for him as well. He rests his face against the top of your sleeping head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair. And just before he let himself fall asleep, he made sure plan out in his mind what he was gonna cook you for breakfast in the morning; pancakes.

[prose-for-hire]

Love, Hate, Love: Part three

Part One // Part Two

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Spike and the reader disliked each other until they recall their shared past. They finally acknowledge it and their feelings begin to spill - but is it too late? This is the final part !!

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur​

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Implied sex. Very dodgy/amateur-ish inserted poetry lol

A/N: I don’t have anything for Valentine’s this year, so this will have to do !! Happy Valentine’s Day loves 💖🖤

The evening swept around him, the wind hissing mocking taunts as he ran from the broken promise of your love.

As William sobbed, he stumbled into the field that harboured that oak tree. Once a solace, now a marker of his loss. A gravestone to your love.

His heart was shattered and he made a decision, one that would mean you would never see him again.

In that moment, you were facing your own battle. You still lived with your parents. They did not permit you to leave that afternoon. You panicked, explaining yourself and the reason you were so desperate to go. Which just made it worse.

“Father, please!” You screamed, tears streaming hot and salted, “Please understand, William is a good man. Of a good family”

“Other arrangements have been made, child” He warned, not explaining what these were. You weren’t expected to know or comprehend.

“I love him!” You shouted. The house stopped still. Nobody moved. You were supposed to be seen, not heard. Respect your mother and father’s will. Your mother cried and begged, trying to still you from leaving.

But you managed it, running all the way to the chapel, pleading solace with the vicar. Only to find that your lovers heart was shattered and broken on the floor.

It sounded like broken glass under your feet as your tear-stained wedding gown clung to you.

You had returned from the school a week ago and fitfully rested since. You had offered your hand to help Spike up. He hadn’t taken it, but he hesitated before he told you to go away. The bite in his voice had gone. Neither of you wished to use such harsh tones anymore.

You were back in your home again. Another monotonous fight finished. They all seemed the same. You sighed, shaking your bra to remove the dust from your cleavage.

It was a few days since you last shared your dreams and suddenly you began to crumble under the weight of your tears. Crying almost as much as you had that night as that memory kept flashing behind your eyes. It still felt so fresh. How he hadn’t been there. How you had been too late.

Your legs gave out from under you. Somehow, you were on your knees. Sobbing on the tile of your kitchen floor.

You didn’t realise, but he was out there. Watching. He had followed you home and seen that you lived in a house. A real one. He had scoffed at this and that you had paid over the odds for necro-tempered glass so that you could sit in some kind of sunlight without burning in your own home. He knew this, because he had found an invoice when he had been rooting in your trash.

He was smoking when he saw the kitchen light turn on. You were visible until you dropped to the floor. Eyes leaking with such emotion.

It physically hurt him to see you that way as he moved closer to the window. Tears started to prickle behind his eyes, a lump forming at the back of his throat. He wished to wrap his arms around you. Be allowed in your house, to offer comfort. For you to want his comfort.

He had always hated to see you cry.

In the following weeks, as Spike healed, your hearts began to break over and over. You avoided facing each other, it was too painful even to be in the same room.

Spike stayed outside your house more frequently and you found yourself napping a lot more than usual, just in case you caught the moment he would be sleeping too.

You longed for him in sleep just as he pined for you in reality. You began to want each other in all manner of consciousness. Defying the pain. The hatred you had once been so convinced of. All you wanted was the other and it infuriated you. Whilst somehow simultaneously being a solace.

You were a comfort blanket that the other held close. Wrapped around your hearts for protection. Soft like Sunday morning sheets dipped in the sun’s rays. The warmth of summer days meeting the whispering of cool winter nights.

The care you had weaved in and out of your hearts left a thread. A thread that entwined with theirs and tugged towards the other. The feeling was the last thing you could cling to.

But the pain, the loss. It was creeping up on you both. It always was. Becoming harder and harder to bear. The dreams and memories becoming more and more tainted. The worse, most painful parts taking up most of the dreams.

Despite all of this, you both settled in to sleep much earlier than you ever had before. You still wanted to touch the other, feel the other’s mind. Emotions through the dream. The truth of your love. The promise that it had been real for both of you. Even if it were for mere seconds.

You looked out of the window again, sighing, staring out into the night. Not realising Spike was staring back. You were too in your own head.

You saw it now, where you hadn’t been able to before. His softer side. The lover’s heart that was still firmly planted on his sleeve. How had you missed the attention he had given to Drusilla? How had you ignored the way he spoke about her. Protected her.

Why do you now envy her? Him? For the love story you were never allowed.

You remembered so much now. You both defied convention. You always had. Now you were starting to notice all of the similarities he had to that young man you agreed to marry. You craved him. His touch. His mind.

Through the next few days, the dreams became more frequent again. More scenes from the past. More feelings. Multiple times in the night. Both of you guiltily looking forward to them. The first part, anyway. It was worth the heartache, the hollow loss at the end. To be able to touch each other again, even briefly. Just like it had been.

You had both began to write again, feverish emotions and memories spinning. You had rediscovered your love for poetry as well as that guilty affection you held for the other.

You arrived in the school library one late afternoon. Spike had seen you crying that first time a while ago now and had been watching your house more often than he would like to admit. Your heart ached with every waking moment and you felt yourself walking through life as some kind of emotion-exhausted zombie might.

“Nice of you to join” Xander murmured with a smile. You had been late. You got caught up by the vampire that often tried to make you pay him to pass by ‘his’ turf in the underground tunnel system.

Oh, right, now the vampire that used to make you pay to pass him in the tunnels.

“Yeah, sorry. What’s the sitch?” You asked, a well-practiced smile now stitched on your face for them. You weren’t really expecting much of an update as you started to shake some dust out of your hair.

“It’s Spike. We can’t just let him walk anymore. I’m goin’ out tonight and putting an end to his reign of stupid”

“N-no” You said, unsure why your mouth had moved of your own accord. You had stopped what you were doing and now just staring vaguely at the middle of the room.

“What?”

“Y/n, you know as well as we do, if not more so, what may happen should we allow Spike to continue his ill-thought out tyranny at will”

“He’s not exactly enemy number one is all I meant” You shrugged slowly, still staring unblinkingly as more memories flashed behind your eyes. He was so human in your mind, you couldn’t let that go. Even despite everything you knew about him. The goodness, no matter how limited it appeared, was starting to shine through.

“How can you even begin to defend-”

“Isn’t there a major mayor-related-massacre threatening at any moment? Shouldn’t we care more about immediate threat than some vampire who would sell his remaining brain cell for some box-bleach?”

“Spike’s dangerous though, Y/n. With the threatening and the, uh, hostage-taking-of-me” Willow said softly. It made you feel so guilty. It tore you in half, her words. You berated yourself. For clinging to that rare happiness you felt in those dreams you shared at the expense of real lives.

Your feelings all ran at each other at once. A fated fight. To the death. Neither side was winning or losing, but the battle waged on fiercely.

“Okay. But let me do it” Your eyes almost pleading with them and after some consideration, they agreed. It was you and him, to the very end.

You waited for him at the bar. Simultaneously wishing him to arrive and hoping that he never did.

He arrived, walking towards you, the dim glow of the bar making his prominent cheekbones cast a shadow against his cheeks. Your eyes were transfixed on him, he moved in slow motion. Adjusting the shoulder of his leather duster as he walked.

As he came towards the bar, your eyes flashed between seeing him in reality stalking up to the bar and William walking, smiling towards you. The pictures cutting and splicing themselves together until it was one man.

Nostalgia sticking to your mind like glue, running into your eyes. Blurring the two. He was the same man. Your mind was becoming more and more sure of this.

Which was why this was going to be so hard.

Neither of you pretended the other wasn’t there today, you gestured for him to sit next to you on the spare seat. He stared for a moment, an eyebrow quirked in confusion before he just shrugged and threw himself down beside you.

“Lookie here, if it isn’t the runaway bride” He said, his voice bit deeper than he had expected. He remembered, then. You hadn’t been sure.

“Will- uh, Spike. I didn’t run” You corrected him, without elaboration.

“Yeah, well, suppose it’s not running if you didn’t bother to turn up in the first place”

“That is way not fair! I was totally-” He raised his eyebrows at your phrasing and tensed his jaw at your lie. You cut yourself off, trying to rephrase.

You explained. Exactly what had happened and how you had stayed there all night and through the next day despite the biting cold and rain. Your wedding gown soaked through, but you wouldn’t move.

You explained that you had hoped he would know you had run into trouble. That you would be there when you could.

And Spike believed you. Even when you were younger, he could always tell when you had been lying. This was probably the most honest you had been with him since you had met again.

Spike’s eyes were threatening to spill over again and he hid it by looking downwards, he was about to say something. Reply to your recount of that day, apologise for leaving so quickly, when you were interrupted.

“He bothering you, Y/n?” The bartender asked, gesturing with his head at Spike. Every time he saw you and Spike together there was a fight and you looked more miserable than usual.

“No, uh, we’re on a date. This is, like, my happy face” You assured him with a blank expression that made him laugh, “I’ll have my usual and whatever William usually drinks.”

The bartender looked at Spike, trying to hide his obvious laughter at his real name. No wonder he had chosen Spike. Spike glared, first at you and then at the bar tender. Who surrendered and moved away to make your drinks.

You did shoot Spike an apologetic look. It had slipped out again.

When you received your round you drank in silence for a while. Your thoughts marinating in your brains. Sitting beside each other, sharing a drink – it was alien. But neither of you could help enjoying it.

He knew now that he still loved you. It hurt and he was confused with himself for it, but he couldn’t deny it. Not any longer. You had been all he ever wanted and even now he just wanted to hold you against him the way he had fantasised about in his human years.

He found himself wanting to understand you. Wanting to be allowed beneath your scarred surface. He wished to comfort you when you cried. He wished to relearn the patterns of your mind. He knew your sweet poetry wasn’t lost, just like it wasn’t in his own mind.

You knew you would have never been able to do it. As soon as he walked in, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The stake in your sleeve was splintering uncomfortably and you let it. Your penance for what you were about to say.

“I came here to kill you” You admitted, “Slayer wants you dead”

“And you and your soul’s okay with that one? Pretty little off switch your morality got, isn’t it?” He laughed humourlessly swigging from his drink, “My life’s not worth anything when there’s nothin’ in it for you and yours”

“You could run” You let the suggestion hang in the air.

“And the Slayer would let that happen? Me toddlin’ off until the next time our paths cross and then it’s dust in the wind. For the both of us” He accused. Telling you what you had always known. Your fates were entwined. You had lived and loved together. Been sired at similar times, managed to grasp onto your unlives despite the constant threat. Your soul ached for him, his missing but still showing even if it was just in your own eyes.

You took it in turns to buy the other their drink of choice. It really was like the date you had never been on. You sat in silence, each considering what had been said. Until it had gotten too much for you.

You couldn’t hide, nor run anymore. The shift was too great. Tectonic.

He caught your eye, as you watched him closely. Were you going to say this?

“I look at you and I see that oak tree, those freckles. That smile you used to give me that was ours. Like a secret that only we knew” You spoke, voice wavering and glass crunching under your hand as you held your cup too tight, “I hear the poetry, feel the breeze on my face. I can even feel the bodice that used to dig into me as we sat on the grass…” Your voice caught as his face started to soften at your confession, “I know this is selfish and… wrong. But y-you’re him. The only love ever allowed in my heart. The only one that ever will be. You’ve not changed in the way you think you have, my love” You finished, your accent switching in and out from the one you used to have and the one you used now.

He was reeling from your words. He had never, in all the time he had known you while you were undead, seen you be so honest. So vulnerable. You spoke from the heart, the way you had always used to.

Her love. Your love. He replayed those words over and over. Unable to hate or cast out any affection anymore. It was you.

You usually hid behind your guilt. Thick insulation, stopping you from moving forwards. Kept you constantly recounting past sins. It held your tongue, bound your actions to those that Angel helped construct. Acting only in a way that would allow for you to atone. No happiness, no light.

But now you were bearing yourself to him. Daring to be vulnerable - to hope that he felt it too. Despite it all. Despite who he had been to you in recent memory. The hatred, the dislike felt more distant a memory than the love your shared now.

“Cognate souls sing in early morning. My heart, begotten” The words spilled from his mouth, tears running down his cheeks now.

“There lies she, a woman. The type one may tie a knot in” You whispered, almost choking on the words and how happy they had made you. How he had asked you to be his. To marry.

You locked eyes. Both still shining. Before he closed his eyes for an extended period of time. Savouring those words. That moment.

You were holding back more tears. These feelings long since hidden, but never lost. Your dead hearts began to flutter.

You leaned in and his lips caught yours. Lips moving slowly to begin with but even the slightest movement of your lips spurred him to kiss deeper. You responded desperately, hands reaching for him.

Needing this. Needing him. You wished to make up for being so late. In this kiss.

You could taste salt and… him. The way he tasted hadn’t changed. His lips were almost warm against yours. His tongue entering your mouth hot and urgent. You kissed as if the threat of being torn from the other was imminent.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping the material of his shirt. Wishing you could take it from him right here. Press your naked skin against his. His hand slid up the curve of your neck. The other grasping at the strands of your hair.

You fumbled, pulling each other desperately closer. Bar stools fallen in your wake. You were lost in the kiss, both of you were. Moving on instinct, lips hungry and desperate to recreate the feelings you had all that time ago.

You somehow had entered his crypt. His bed was covered, completely littered with papers. Scrawled with such feeling. Some aged, that had been guiltily kept and some on fresh lined paper. He shoved them from the bed haphazardly. You missed his slight embarrassment as you attached your lips to his neck instead. Tugging on his waistband, desperate and pleading.

You needed this. You had ached for his touch for too long. This was so much more real than the dream. So badly you wanted him. Quick and now.

Your lips pressed against any skin hungrily and you were working desperately to remove all of his clothes as fast as you could.

But he stilled your hands.

Guiding your head back so you would face him. Your pupils dilated and dazed already by your desire for him. For this act that had been held in reverence. The meeting of your bodies in the way you had been told to save for your true love in your youth.

That time had passed but there was something about it being him. About it being you. You had always wanted to feel his naked flesh against your own.

“Wait, Sweet- let me?” he mumbled against your lips, kissing softly now. Like he used to. You almost wept. His mouth grazed yours, not as cautious as he once was. He had learned since, but the way his lips caressed yours. The feeling, that heart, it was still there. His lips insisted that he was still promised to you.

He wanted nothing more than to take you, rough with desire and throbbing with passion. But there was something he had to do. Something William would never forgive him for if he didn’t take this opportunity. Something he would never forgive himself for.

You nod, you were his. You always had been. You couldn’t turn back now despite him allowing you to think on it for that brief moment.

He took you, laid you back on his bed. His guiding grip strong but surprisingly tender. His hands ran down your body in a silent adoration.

He took his time to remove items of your clothing that were left. The fabric felt binding until his hand rested there. With his touch, a sigh of relief. You both felt yourselves releasing a long-held breath. One you had held inside for centuries.

Your eyes shone. It was emotional for the both of you. To have so much right here in front of them. To have everything you had truly ever dreamed.

In this moment, you felt his love in every stroke. Every murmur, every gentle encouragement. Movement. He enjoyed the way you touched his body with such reverence. Adored every sigh of pleasure.

He was firm in his love, in his touch. Your hands sliding up his back, weaving and clasping at his short, bleached hair. You moved so easily with him. Your bodies in perfect harmony. As if they were truly made for each other.

He kissed every part of you. His lips discovering places he had only ever dared dream about before. Sometimes he pressed his lips a little teasingly but others because he wanted to worship your form. He couldn’t rush this. His lips skimming every curve of your body. William was already writing sonnets in his mind. Pressing them into your skin.

He had wanted to do this since the day he had discovered what love making was. To meet your flesh with his. To consummate his adoration. To prove his devotion to your body, not just the mind he already adored. He had wanted to have you this way. To show you how true this feeling was.

His rhythm peaked and slowed. His touch sensual and yet wholly sensitive to you. Kisses littering your skin. He couldn’t believe you were here. That you were in his bed. He had longed, ached. Imagined exploring the beauty encapsulated in your form. His mind was intoxicated with you. Your touch, even your scent.

His eyes never leaving yours. Your eyes shone, threatening to spill again. You caught his lips when he kissed a trail along your collarbone towards your lips. You whispered such loving assurances against his pale skin. Into his ear as he ran a hand along your thigh. You cradled his body to you, wrapping yourself around him. Ensuring he was ever closer.

You hoped that he knew you were right there with him. That you were his, like you had been all those years ago.

You laced your fingers with his. Locking like your eyes. Every part of you had to be connected. You craved each other and it was only satisfied when you were together completely. In mind and body.

No mere dream.

He woke up the next evening, expecting you to be gone. He screwed his eyes up, not willing himself to look less the desperate pang of disappointment swallow him whole.

But when he dared to open his eyes you were there. On your side facing away from him. Sleeping. You had never slept so well, not since you had got your soul back.

You looked so peaceful when you slept. Much more so than when you were awake. He rolled over to press himself against your body. His hand tracing the curvature of your body. He had been deprived of your touch for so long.

He didn’t want this moment to end. This is what he had been missing all these years. It was you. It had only ever been you.

He cautiously ran a hand along your bare skin and enjoyed as you sighed softly through sleep. Your shoulders were exposed and he pressed his lips to your skin. Slow, gentle kisses. Pressed with such meaning. It was as soft as he remembered, despite the years. The fights.

He closed his eyes at the contact, hearing your contentment. You moved back slowly, needy for his body to further embrace yours.

This was all he had ever dreamed of. All he had written about. This was a century in the making.

Your eyes began to open, in your sleepy state you turned to him. You smiled.

William.

The smile lit up the room, better than the sun he remembered whenever you were around. You leaned in, settling a sleepy kiss against his lips.

Written poetry was scattered around the bed you shared for the day. Surrounding you both. Spike’s passion rekindled as yours was. For love and for poetry.

It was in that state between sleep and wake where reality hadn’t quite caught up. Your guilt hadn’t hit you. Your duty, anxieties. None of it was more important than the scene before you.

Everything just felt right. All you knew was this early evening adoration. You felt comfortable. Safe.

The world had stopped on its axis in this moment. The first shoots of love re-growing from your hearts.

[piccolini-cuscino]

Getting to the truth: part two

After confessing your feelings for each other at the Wayne Foundation gala, you and Bruce finally have your first date. But it’s doomed right from the start!

Notes: So I ran out of time writing this part, there will be a part three, finishing this up. Prepare yourself for some dorky, nervous rich guy Bruce Wayne. 

Mornings were tiresome when you were Bruce Wayne’s assistant. Even more so now that you knew exactly why he came home at 7am with scarlet knuckles and black and blue galaxies underneath his eyes. He took some time to clean himself up, half an hour exactly, while you had your intern – Sarah – fetch him breakfast that he never ate and more coffee than any mere mortal could tolerate.

           Sometimes, you’d steal a few moments alone with him in his office. He’d often just sit there with his fingers raking through his hair and his gaze fixed on the mahogany surface right underneath his nose. Hunched over in his own little world.

           “Rough night?” you asked, moving behind him. You had grown so used to him flinching away that you barely noticed the jolt of pain that seared through his body when you rubbed his shoulders.

           “It’s always a rough night.”

           “Have you found him? That zodiac-looking guy?”

           He shook his head. “No. No one can decode his ciphers. They’re calling him The Riddler.”

           “And did you manage to get any sleep last night?”

           “You know I can’t.”

           “Maybe you should.” You continued kneading his shoulders, keeping one eye on the door. “A night off might help you think straight.”

           “Not while he’s out there.”

           “There’s another reason.”

           Bruce spun around in his chair, pausing just long enough for you to crawl on to his lap. He grimaced, but, in that moment, mischief took over.

           Curling those dirty dark strands of hair around your fingertips, you pouted. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, Mr Wayne.”

           Bruce’s brow furrowed as much as the pain would allow. With his eyes batting back and forth, he sorted through every fleeting interaction with you, beyond work and beyond what he got up to in the night. And then, his features lightened. “Oh…”

           At the exact second Bruce’s memory decided to cooperate, Sarah burst into the office – three coffees in hand – and you flung yourself from Bruce’s lap. He swiftly returned to brooding into the shiny surface of his desk, while you thanked Sarah for the coffees. With your boss sufficiently caffeinated for the morning, you turned to leave him alone before his meeting. But then, as the elevator doors began to close, a pristine black oxford wedged the gap.

           “Can you get these invoices over to Payroll for me please?” Bruce smirked, dumping a mountain of paper in your arms.

           “Sure,” you blustered. “I’ll get Sarah to–“

           “I want you,” he paused, clearing his throat, “to take care of these.”

           As the door closed again, you couldn’t be sure, but you swore you caught him winking. He must have done, judging by the Sarah’s wide eyes. You didn’t say a word, though; you just stared down at the paperwork in your grasp.

           And then, peeking out from the pile was an uncharacteristically pink Post-it note – one of your own – bearing Bruce’s illegible scrawl. You slipped it out and squinted, trying to decipher what exactly he was trying to tell you. You knew one person who could, though.

           “Hey, Alfred!” you called, strolling up to him in the lobby.

           “How can I help you today, Miss?”

           “Mr Wayne left me a note and I have no idea what it says,” you laughed. “I know it’s ridiculous, but he always just texts or emails. Can you help me, please?”

           As he took the note, Alfred laughed. “I don’t suppose they teach cursive anymore, do they?”

           You shrugged and shook your head. “Is it anything important?”

           With his glasses perched on the end of his nose, he read the note aloud like the town crier. “Sorry, I forgot. Dinner. 8pm. I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t tell Alfred.” And then he looked at you with his brows raised. “I think I’ll have the night off, then.”

You almost didn’t show. As silly as it sounded, agonising over every small detail of your appearance made you want to call him up and cancel. You didn’t want to mess it up. But then, cancelling would have done that for you. In the end, in a fit of rage at your wardrobe, you went for jeans and a nice shirt. You always saw Bruce puttering around wearing something similar if he wasn’t working or playing dress up on a school night. But even then, you wondered if it was too casual for what he had in mind.

           The monologue in your brain just droned and droned all the way to the manor. You barely remembered the drive there, only that it was raining again. Like it always did. Parked out front, you stole a few final moments to yourself. A pep talk. A few deep breaths.

           And a knock at the window that made you jump out of your skin.

           Bruce never left the manor when he retired there for the night – not in plain clothes anyway. But there he was on the drive, in dark jeans and a white shirt, peering through the window with a grin. “You’re late,” he remarked.

           You glanced his way with a coy look. “I’m nervous.”

           “Come on,” he said, opening the car door, “what do you have to be nervous about? We’re friends. We know each other.”

           You stepped out and looked up at him. Dark remnants of his warpaint had clumped underneath his eyelashes. Now you knew why he went AWOL on all his meetings that afternoon. “This is different, Bruce. I like you. Really like you.”

           Bruce’s hands found their way to your waist as he loomed closer, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know.” You could have stayed in that moment forever, but a growl from your stomach perked up the corners of Bruce’s lips. He kissed the tip of your nose and moved away. “I think I said something about dinner. Let’s get inside before it burns.”

           You followed Bruce through the unfamiliar labyrinth in the bowels of Wayne Manor towards the kitchen – never had you strayed beyond the study or the ballroom. Neither had Bruce, judging by the way he paused at every turn, reciting Alfred’s directions aloud. Never once did he let go of your hand. Finally, when that delicious smell wafted through the halls, Bruce gave up on memory and followed his nose.

           “Come on in,” he said, pulling out a chair. “Here, let me get you some wine. Alfred brought some up from the cellar, I hope red’s all right?”

           Bruce was nervous.

           He moved around the kitchen, bumping into everything in his path, opening wine, pulling up his sleeves, matting his hair down. And he had barely said a word, except to himself.

           “Are you ok, Bruce?”

           Bruce turned to you with his mouth hanging open. “Yeah,” he said, gloving up his right hand with an oven mitt. “Do you like lasagne? I swore you said you liked lasagne once.”

           You nodded and pointed towards the oven as smoke trickled out from the door. “I’m not a fan of burnt lasagne though.”

           “Fuck!”

           As soon as Bruce opened the oven door, the entire kitchen became engulfed in a plume of dense grey smoke. You grabbed a towel, joining him as he waved his oven mitt in the air to clear it.

           When the crisis was over, Bruce slumped down at the table and reached for the bottle of wine in the centre. He poured himself a glass and it was gone in a flash, leaving him to stare at you with rosy cheeks and a lost expression.

           “Have you ever used an oven before?” you giggled.

           “That’s a good question,” he said, shooting you an embarrassed smile. His eyes flitted from left to right, trying to recount the times, if any, he had actually visited the kitchen in his family home. “You know, I don’t even think I’ve been down here before today. That’s what I get for giving the staff a night off, though, right?”

           You shrugged. “So, what’s plan B? I mean, as much as this is beautiful wine, I’m gonna need something more substantial.”

           Bruce puffed out his cheeks. “I can’t remember the last time I had time to sit down and have dinner.”

           Rolling your eyes, you drained the rest of your glass. “We know!”

           “I can make…” Bruce trailed off, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the fridge. “Sandwiches? If you want?”

           “Let’s order pizza. I don’t trust your cooking.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hades and Persephone

Summary: Rachel works at her family’s bookstore where she’s surrounded by stories and myths all day. So what happens when Camden Town’s myth, Alfie Solomons, walks in. 

//Totally inspired by Hadestown, who am I even kidding? 

            The little bell above the door jingled as someone entered. Rachel was hidden behind a stack of books so she couldn’t see who was coming in the bookstore.

            “'Morning!” She called brightly so they knew the store wasn’t empty.

            Heavy footsteps walked across the creaky, uneven floorboards accompanied by the soft brief thud of a cane. Along with the footsteps was the clicking of toenails on the wood, the clanging of metal, and the distinct sound of a dog panting.

            “You allow dogs in here?” A gruff voice asked.

            “Oh, uh, sure.” Rachel rounded the front counter to greet the customer properly.

            Alfie Solomons was the myth of Camden Town. The bogeyman, the shadow in every alleyway. His reputation was menacing and nearly everyone in the community had a story about him.

            And yet, he didn’t quite look the part of a monster. He was a bit intimidating in the flesh, but he was just a man. A bit shorter than she anticipated, yet well-built and wearing simple clothing.  

            The dog beside him gave him a more humane look about him. The dog was big but had a kind eye to him and as he panted and slobbering, he appeared to be smiling.

            Rachel was a little frightened to talk to the man, even if he did appear less wicked in person. “I-that’s a very nice dog you have.”

            “Yeah, thank you. Name’s Cyril.” Alfie peered at the young woman. “You’re not usually here, are ya? Never seen you ‘fore.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m the owner’s daughter, Rachel.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing.

            “Right, well your father gave me a book and it was utter shit,” Alfie replied.

            The comment made Rachel’s spine tingle in fear. Would a bad book warrant Alfie to do something in retaliation? Would he burn their store down? Kill her father?

            “I’m sorry I could refund you or-”

            “S’alright, love, just wanted something better.” He walked further into the bookstore, looking around the shelves of new and used books.

            “Oh.” She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Well, what do you like to read?”

            “I like good books.”

            Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, don’t we all?”

            He turned into one of the aisles to scour the bookshelves. Cyril followed obediently.

            “Do you like fiction?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Historical fiction?”

            “Sure.”

            “Well, we have new works. All Quiet on the Western Front. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

            “Hm.” He grunted, still browsing the shelves. “What’s that about then?”

            “The war if I’m not mistaken. Many people have enjoyed it, my father hasn’t been able to keep it in stock for very long but we just got some new copies.”

            “Nah, nothing like that.”

            There was a hint of bitterness in his voice and Rachel could only surmise that he was a veteran. “Further back then.”

            “Sure.” His heavy boots trailed through the store, studying titles on the spines of books.

            “I may have books on the royal family’s history.” She turned into the aisle only to see him disappear around the corner into the next one. Another grunt told her she was still heading in the wrong direction, so she put out a wildly different option. “Antiquity?”

            It seemed to pique his interest. “Anything good?”

            “Well, I’d only suggest good ones to you, I know you don’t like bad books.” She found him in the next row of books.

            He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, not anything too long, yeah. M’very busy.”

            “What about a collection of myths?” She offered; glad she was finally narrowing down what he was really looking for. “I find they can be enjoyable but not very tedious to read.”

            He turned to look at her, curiosity in his eyes. “You sound very educated, anyone told ya that before?” He wondered.

            “Well, I…” She shrugged. “Figure growing up with an infinite number of books around me would teach me a thing or two.”

            He only grunted in response again. “Rare to find a very educated girl ‘round here. Your parents must not be very Orthodox, letting you get wild ideas from whatever book you can grab. Y’know there are some very scandalous books out there, love.”

            She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m aware, but every book has at least some little tidbit of information we can take away from.”

            “And what do you think I’m gonna take away from these myths you’re offering me, aye?”

            “The Greeks used gods to highlight man’s true nature in all its forms. Their gods were more relatable, better suited to explain how the world came to be, and how it works. So, I suppose it’s a commentary on mankind.”

            He seemed impressed with the way she spoke, his brows lifting. “Right, well I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?”

            “I suppose so.” Rachel turned so she could look through the store’s catalog and find the book.

            Alfie lingered by the front counter as she looked. He rested an arm on the counter and leaned over to see Rachel’s little setup. She had a cup of tea that was quickly cooling beyond consumption next to a book that had a ribbon in place as a bookmark. Curious, and a little neglectful of common courtesy sometimes, Alfie reached over the counter to pick up the book and see what it was.

            This Side of Paradise. By F. Scott Fitzgerald.

            Alfie read the dust cover with a frown.

            Rachel returned with the book and saw him examining the book she was in the middle of.

            “You like books ‘bout the war?” He asked, not looking up when she walked over.

            “I wouldn’t say I like them but there’s a lot to learn from them.” She said, a bit taken aback at how at home Alfie made himself with her things.

            “Yeah? Like what?” He turned the book over a few times before setting it back down next to the cup and saucer.

            “The-I apologize but were you in the war?” She asked hesitantly. The last thing she wanted to do was try and assert her opinion on the war when she was in the presence of a veteran, especially if the said veteran was a notorious gang leader.

            “I was a captain.” He made himself busy by looking around the rest of the shop, never meeting the shopkeeper’s daughter. “I wasn’t promoted by obedience or anything of the sort. I was promoted because I kept me men in line and I weren't dead. I don’t pretend to know why the fuck we were over there or what I gained from it. But that’s where I was for a number of years of me life.”

            Rachel wondered if he had always been the way he was before the war or if fighting had disillusioned him. Nevertheless, she was certain that in all the stories she’d heard of Alfie, she never once heard that he was a captain in the war. “I suppose I won’t know what you know but I learn what I can from books like this.”

            Alfie didn’t respond to that. “That for me?” He pointed to the book in her hand.

            “Oh, yes, this is what you might like. Although, please let me know if there’s something else you wanted me to suggest for the future.” She handed the collection to him and went behind the counter to ring up his order.

            “Right.” He examined the book like the one she had been reading, turning it over. “So your parents are Jewish then?”

            Rachel paused as she was writing up the invoice. She wasn’t sure what she had said that would warrant the topic of religion. “My mother is, but my father isn’t.” She explained.

            “Ah, another good Jewish woman snatched up by a Christian.” He tutted.

            “He doesn’t believe in God.” She shrugged. “It’s the one thing they never agreed on.”

            Alfie looked mildly amused. “And what about you? The half-theist, half-atheist?”

            “You said I sounded well-educated. But I don’t have spiritual answers.” She smiled slightly. It was a strange conversation to have with a customer but she was oddly enjoying it. Alfie kept her on her toes, it wasn’t some mind-melting boring conversation about popular books. He was intrusive with his questions but almost in a well-meaning way even if he came off a bit gruff.

            “Well, how about that.” He snorted. “I suppose books don’t have those sorta answers do they? Just scripture.”

            “I do find it interesting that you’re a spiritual man who is buying a book about a polytheistic culture.” She said, continuing with the invoice.

            “Well, figure you can read about it, right? Ain’t much of a sin if you know it’s utter garbage. It’s entertaining, innit?”

            “Hm.” She nodded. “Eighteen pence.” She handed him the receipt.

            Alfie dug into his coat to retrieve some coins. “What’s your favorite book, then?”

            “I don’t have one.” She took the amount from him and put it in the till.

            “Aye? Girl with infinite number of books at her disposal doesn’t have a favorite book?” He chuckled to himself. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

            “I don’t pick favorites. They’re all different so why compare them?”

            Alfie didn’t respond again. He looked down at the receipt. She had carefully written out his full name. He was certain that although she had given her name, he hadn’t returned the favor. “You know who I am then?”

            “Pardon?” Rachel shut the till closed.

            “Never mind.” He shook his head and pocketed the receipt.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            Rachel was minding her own business on her balcony. She was tending to her flower boxes trying to keep the little flowers alive in the smoke of London. It was her quiet time before opening up the shop downstairs. But there was a certain someone who didn’t care about store hours.

            There was a sharp whistle from the streets below. “Oi!”

            Rachel turned with her watering can in hand. “Oh, Mr. Solomons, good morning.”

            “Gotta bone to pick with you, Miss Watkins!” He shook the book of myths towards her.

            Rachel was a bit amused, albeit terrified. She didn’t recall giving him her last name. But the way he stood there with a grumpy look on his face made her stifle a giggle. Cyril was beside him, as per usual, his tongue lolled out as he happily panted.

            “We open at nine, Mr. Solomons.”

            “Right, well I’ll make sure that our conversation is over before nine.”

            “Alright then.” She set her watering can down and ducked back inside. “I’ll just be a minute.” She called out the window before shutting it.

            “Rachel, who’s that shouting outside?” Her mother was sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of tea.

            “Just a customer, mum, I’ll handle it.”

            “You don’t have to open for another hour.” She reminded her.

            “It’s alright.” Rachel assured her and went downstairs to the shop. Pulling out her keys, she opened the front door up. “Come on in.” She allowed Alfie and Cyril inside. “Was there something wrong with the book?” She asked.

            “Have you read the one about Hades ‘n Persephone?” He asked.

            “Yes, that’s a fairly popular one.” She agreed, not sure where he was heading with the conversation. But she allowed him to lead as if it were a dance.

            Alfie set the book down on the front counter. “S’bullshit, innit? I mean, what am I supposed to think ‘bout it, aye? Ain’t romantic, ain’t heroic. Just a right shame, innit?”

            “I mean…” Rachel shrugged. “It’s tragic. Lots of Greek stories are tragedies.”

            “But he lets her out for however many months, yeah, so what? I’m supposed to think he’s some sorta hero for letting her go then locking her back up again?”

            “Every piece of writing is supposed to elicit a reaction from the reader. I think this myth has done its job with you.” Rachel pointed out, not sure how else to placate him. She couldn’t exactly change a myth to suit his needs.

            Alfie snorted and rolled his eyes.

            “Do you sympathize with Hades or Persephone?” She went around the corner to tidy up a bit as they spoke.

            “Who could sympathize with Hades, aye? Fucking god of death, ain’t he? Not supposed to sympathize with men like that.”

            Men.  

            The use of the word men was very telling to Rachel. So, she probed deeper. “Hades isn’t the god of death really. He is the god of the dead and he’s the god of the underworld. The Greeks didn’t see him as evil, but they didn’t want to attract his attention either.”

            “So, what makes him evil was kidnaping a woman,” Alfie concluded.

            “Yes, but there was humanity in him. Didn’t you see that?”

            He scoffed and picked up the book to flip through it carelessly. “Ain’t seeing any humanity here.”

            She gently took the book from him and turned to the myth. “Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, god, and feel kindly in your heart towards me. Be no so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods. Those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, shall be punished for evermore.” She read the passage.

            Alfie’s brow furrowed. “He still did what he did.”

            “Yes, but the Greeks were dramatic.” Rachel shut the book. “If you’d like me to find you another book…”

            “You knew who I was the first time we met.” He interrupted her with something that had been weighing on his mind.

            “Well-yes. I’d heard a lot about you. It’s nearly impossible not to hear anything when you live in Camden.” She shrugged.

            “You weren’t afraid of me though.”

            Rachel lost her train of thought when their eyes met. Before, he had been flitting about the store so she hadn’t been looking at him long enough. But now, well now she could see the ocean in his eyes. Just enough of the shop’s lights got under the wide brim of his black hat to reveal his true eye color. They were certainly green but there was a wave of blue running through them as well.

            He raised an eyebrow at her when she went completely silent on him.

            “Oh uh…no. I guess not. Why do you ask?”

            He just chuckled; a bit bewildered. “You’re braver than most men are, love.”

            “Should I be afraid of you?”

            “Well, s’pose I ain’t the god of death or the dead, or whatever you said.” He looked amused, almost like her blind bravery was funny. “Don’t make me a saint though.”

            “You’re only a man.” The words sounded foolish when Rachel heard them out loud, but Alfie seemed to enjoy her candor.

            “Fucking hell, you’re something else, ain’t ya? Must be that half-Jewish half-atheist in you.” He shook his head and ran a hand over his beard.

            “Maybe, Mr. Solomons.”

            “Yeah, well you can call me Alfie.” He said, suddenly becoming a little less intimidating than he usually was. He was certainly struck by the young woman. So much so that it threw him off balance.

            “Did you get the sense that Hades was lonely? The Greeks paid him no attention because they were so fearful of him. Perhaps he thought that if he found a woman to give him comfort, he wouldn’t be so lonely and he wouldn’t care if people were afraid of him. Now he didn’t go about it a good way, but maybe that’s why he did it.”

            Alfie cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket. She was getting right to the root of his being, passing through all his barriers and finding a nice cozy place in his heart. He was fucked. No one had ever gotten through to him so easily, if ever. “You get lonely all ‘round these books?”

            “Always,” Rachel admitted with a shy smile. “When I was younger I used to use books to escape but now I’ve learned that life is just too hard to escape when you’re older.”

            He fidgeted, scratching his cheek and messing with Cyril’s leash. “Yeah, I suppose I could understand that.”

            Rachel could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying. I get lonely too.

            “If-well I s’pose it would be nice to have someone to talk to ‘bout books. Can’t find enough people like that, now can you? So maybe I could stop by every so often, keep ya company.” He offered as if he was doing her a favor. When in reality he was being a bit selfish.

            She smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”

            “Right.” Alfie took the book of myths. “Well, I’ll finish this and let you know what I think, ‘bout the rest of them, aye?”

            “Alright.”

            Alfie gave her one last look before leading Cyril to the door, letting the bell jingle as they left.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​ @tarafaithe​

PB Masterlist

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 16 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

The song used in this chapter is Sirens by Cher Lloyd

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

A few days go by and none of them are spend without Emily. We help around at the Music Store, write songs, rehearse, and then I drop Emily off at her house where we say goodbye for a good fifteen minutes. “You’re going home today?” she asks me on Thursday evening. We’re in front of the red door, my arms wrapped around her waist and hers around my neck, her fingers tangled up in my hair. “I don’t know yet. I’m okay in Jeremy’s garage.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m sure your parents are worried about you, Charlie.” I avoid her gaze by looking somewhere behind her to try and figure out what to tell her. “Hey,” her voice makes me refocus on her. “Take it from me, running away from your parents isn’t the right option.” “Then why did you?” She releases her grip around my neck and places her hands on my chest, pushing me away a little. “I didn’t run away, Charles. This is different. I would go back to my parents’ if they’d let me.” “Right, sorry.” I tuck a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. “I’ll go back tomorrow, okay? I can’t face them yet.” “You promise?” “I promise.” A smile breaks through on her face just before she leans in to kiss me one more time. “Good night, Emily Fox.” I plant a kiss on her forehead and step away from her. “Good night, Charlie Gillespie.” She stays put, watching me as I walk away. I turn around once more to throw her a kiss, which she cutely plucks out of the air. I’m so in love with this girl, I’d do anything for her. Even going back to my parents’ house. Anything to make her happy.

I don’t hear from or see Emily the next day. She doesn’t respond to my texts about the new melody I came up with last night or any of my hilarious memes I’d send her during class. She’s not even at the Music Store when I arrive after school. I figure something’s held her up again and decide to just play around with the Black Fender since Ash is too busy with the customers to ask her. Fridays seem busy. The boys arrive around 7 when the buzz in the store has finally died down. “Hey, what are you guys doing here?” Ash finally notices us, a confused look on her face. “Waiting for Emily for band practice,” I reply, placing the guitar back in its place. Ash’s eyes widen and her lips part to let out a huff. “She didn’t tell you what day it is today?” The boys and I exchange glances to check if either of them knows. “Her uncle passed away exactly one year ago. She asked for a day off, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t go to school either.” I swallow a lump in my throat. I can’t believe she didn’t tell either of us. “Why didn’t she say anything?” Owen whispers, that worried look on his face. The same look he had when things didn’t go too well with his sister. A look he seemed to have reserved for the girls he considers his sisters or are his sisters. “She spent this day last year with Mitch, closed off from the world,” Ash replies as she starts sorting through the invoices, which is normally my job when Emily has to close the store. “Do you think she’d appreciate some visitors?” Jeremy asks Ash. “I’m not sure. You could always try? Just don’t push it,” she replies. The boys glance at each other again, all three of us knowing what to do. “And if you do see her, wish her my best.” “We will,” says Owen, “Thanks, Ash.” “No problem.” We leave the store, and suddenly, everything around me seems glum and dark. “We’ll just go check up on her, see if she’ll appreciate some company,” Jeremy suggests. “If she’d rather be alone, we’ll leave straight away,” I agree and then lead the boys to Emily’s house. The road I’ve taken many a times with her before. The road that seems so endless all of a sudden. The road with the red door at the end of it. Even that door seems looming now. We ring the doorbell and wait until Mitch opens the door. His eyes look red and puffy, and he’s in his joggers with a blanket wrapped around him. “Oh, hey, boys,” he greets solemnly and sniffles. “We heard from Ash what today is,” Owen starts, “We wanted to come and see if there’s anything we can do?” Mitch opens the door a little further and steps aside, letting us in. We find Emily in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket with tears running down her face and tissues all around her. My heart breaks at the sight of a broken down Emily. “Ems…” I whisper, catching her attention. She turns her head, her teary eyes wide at the sight of us before she breaks down into sobs again. Her frail body rises from the couch and walks up to us, straight into my arms. As if on automatic, I wrap her up in my arms and start rubbing her back comfortingly. The boys even wrap their arms around us into a group hug. “Is there anything we can do?” Owen asks both Emily and Mitch when we pull away from the hug. “Get you some food or—” he gets cut off by the doorbell ringing. While Mitch goes to open up, Emily looks up at me with sadness looming all around her.   “Can you guys just stay?” she asks with a sniffle. “Yeah, of course,” I reply, tucking a strand of hair that’s stuck to her cheek from the tears, behind her ear. “Anything for you, Emily.” She grabs my hand and leads me towards the couch, the boys following suit. “Madison brought us food,” Mitch announces when he walks back in with Madison behind him. “Mom made some lasagna when I told her what today was,” she explains, placing the tray onto the kitchen table before joining us in the living room. “Hey, boys,” she gives us a wave, which all of us return. “How are you feeling?” She walks up to Emily and presses a kiss to her hair. “Better now,” she manages a thankful smile through all the tears. “You guys want anything to drink?” Mitch asks. “I’ll get it,” Madison chimes in, “You sit down.” Mitch obeys like a lost puppy and takes a seat on Emily’s other side. “What do you guys want? Emily, some lemonade?” The sad girl beside me nods her head before placing it onto my shoulder. “Boys?” “Same,” I reply simply, and Jeremy and Owen tell her the same. “Why didn’t you tell me last night what today was?” I carefully ask, placing my arm around her shoulder, so her head lands on my chest instead. “I kind of forgot,” she chuckles tearfully, “I only remembered when I was writing a song upstairs and it reminded me of him a little and then, you know, I was reminded of what day it was. I’m sorry.” “That’s okay, I just got worried when I didn’t hear from you or see you in the store,” I tell her. Madison hands out the lemonades and takes a seat on the couch. “We asked Ash if she knew if you were up for some company,” Jeremy adds after sipping from his drink. “She wasn’t sure, but we wanted to check up on you anyway and see if we could do anything.” She lifts her head from my chest and eyes the three of us with a small smile cracking through her pale complexion. That’s when I notice she’s not wearing any makeup and her hair is scraped up messily. Still, she appears breathtaking. “I’m glad you guys came over,” she admits, and it makes me smile. “Last year, we spend this day at the hospital and then several weeks home,” Mitch chimes in. “We just sat on the couch, ate tubs of ice cream, watched movies and cried. My sister was the only one we saw when she came to check up on us and brought some food.” “Remember what Bobby said just before he died?” Emily asks her uncle, fresh tears pooling her eyes while a smile tugs at her lips at the memory. “You got to keep on dreaming, Emmy. Catch that feeling,” They quote in unison. I realize that’s why she got so mad when I called her ‘Emmy’. It’s what her uncle used to call her. It’s reserved for just him. “How did your uncle die?” Owen asks cautiously, “If you don’t mind me asking.” “Uhm… He got into an accident,” Emily replies, wiping an escaped tear away, “He was on his way home from this musical conference thing, I don’t remember what it was, and the bus he was on crashed and flipped upside down. Several people died that day.” “He had a collapsed lung and several broken bones. He stayed alive for an hour or so more, until Ems and I got to the hospital, and then he slowly went,” Mitch adds. “He waited for us, wanting to see us one more time before he left,” Emily sobs, and I press her closer to me. “I can’t believe his sister didn’t even come to say goodbye.” “Your mother was in New York, Muffin. She wouldn’t have made it in time.” “She came home a week after he died for the funeral, Mitch. She didn’t even try to come and see him.” I flinch at the volume and anger in her voice. Her parents don’t only not care about their own daughter, they didn’t care about her uncle. Probably because he’s the one that put that dream of hers in her head. He’s the one that introduced her to music. Mitch turns to us now, the sad smile still on his face, and says, “The funeral really was beautiful though. Just like Robert would’ve wanted it. Emily wrote a beautiful song and we had a professional singer come in since she couldn’t do it without breaking down. We almost made it into a whole musical, didn’t we, Muffin?” Emily cracks a smile, nodding. “He would’ve loved that so much,” she sniffles. “Can you sing it for me, Muffin?” Her breath hitches in her throat. She’s thinking about it. I can tell by the way she freezes, then rubs her nose once. “Please?” Emily gets up and grabs my hand, beckoning everyone to follow her. She leads me down a hallway and into a large room at the very back of the house. The lights flicker on, revealing an entire studio. Instruments everywhere, pretty much every instrument that exists, and even a recording booth in the corner. My eyes scan the room before landing on Emily. She’s staring into the room too, as if taking it all in. “I haven’t been in here in so long,” she whispers before taking a step. “Can you guys help me?” she turns to us. The three of us spring into action and set everything up; microphones, instruments – she instructs which ones she wants to use – and plug them into the amps. Mitch and Madi sit down on the couch in front of our set up. “You start,” she whispers to me, and I begin strumming the electric guitar. She then nods to Owen, who begins thumping the bass drum, while she starts singing and Jeremy joins in with bass. “I carry the weight of you in my heavy heart And the wind is so icy, I am numb I carry the weight of you heading back to start With a thousand eyes on me, I stumble on” She shuts her eyes when her voice waivers, and I witness a single tear rolling down her cheek. “I am tired, I'm growing older I'm getting weaker everyday, yeah I carry the weight of you I carry the weight of you” Jeremy and I quit playing for a moment, leaving Owen with the beat that carries Emily into the pre-chorus. “Lay down here Beside me in the shallow water Beside me where the sun is shining on us still” Jeremy and I then chime in again, and Emily’s voice grows with our instruments. “Lay down here Beside me in the hallowed water Beside me where the silver lining stays until The sirens' calling” She takes the microphone from the stand and walks up to Jeremy, a small smile tugging at her lips. The room suddenly feels less dark, less sad. As if something’s lifted. “We follow the sun down low 'til we hit the night And you hold me so tightly It's hard to breathe Oh” She turns to Owen as if speaking to him now. He gives her an encouraging smile, which boosts her singing a little. “And I'm tired, I'm growing older I'm getting weaker everyday, yeah We follow the sun down low We follow the sun down low” She turns around to face Mitch and Madison again, really getting into the song. Her voice grows stronger and stronger with the second. “Lay down here Beside me in the shallow water Beside me where the sun is shining on us still Lay down here Beside me in the hallowed water Beside me where the silver lining stays until The sirens' calling The sirens' calling” She now walks up to me as we slow the music down a little, letting her voice carry us instead. She rests her head on my shoulder for a moment, as if needing to lean on me for strength. “Yeah, I'm tired, I'm growing older I'm getting weaker everyday, yeah” She lifts her head, and takes a step away from me, needing some space. “I am drowning, and you're stealing every breath Take me away and just Lay down here Beside me in the shallow water Beside me where the sun is shining on us still Lay down here Beside me in the hallowed water Beside me where the silver lining stays until The sirens' calling The sirens' calling” Owen and Jeremy stop playing, leaving me with the same solo I did at the start. Emily looks at me with hope and happiness in her teary eyes. Then it’s completely silent for a second. “Thanks, guys,” she whispers, her voice shaky as she breaks down again. The boys and I leave our instruments for what they are and rush up to her to embrace her, forming a shield around her against all the sadness in the world. Mitch and Madison join us, making it the biggest group hug ever. I can tell Emily and Mitch are both glad we’d come ringing at their door. I can tell they appreciate us for it, without having to tell us they do. This group hug and the smiles we receive from them, even on a sad day like this one, is enough for me to know.

Taglist: @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @hannahhistorian92​ @gingerxarmy​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @lovesanimals​  @ashleyleblancx​ @calamitykaty​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

[anogete]

In Between

Hi, folks.  I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes.  Things have been... ::sigh::  You know, I don’t know what things have been.  Not good, not bad.  Just... things.  I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now.  So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up.  Well, the engine did.  I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake.  So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved.  The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership.  They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point.  I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother.  She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round.  She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones.  The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer.  She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch.  She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay.  No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.”  Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars.  When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin.  Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand.  I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor.  Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first.  At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress.  Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February.  It looks like the time has come.  I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad.  He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000.  So, that’s happening next week.  I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke.  Ugh.

4) The days are running together.  I’m working from home.  I can’t complain, though.  I’ve got it better than most.  I’m alone all day.  I have a library with a desk.  I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen.  I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses.  I can pretty much make my own hours.  The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office.  Their timeline for “normal” is months.  I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that.  Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements.  And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home.  So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th.  It’s not difficult for me.  On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am.  On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early.  Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients.  I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup.  Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk.  This is nothing new.  I’ve been shopping that way for years.  Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party.  I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown.  I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office.  They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking.  They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit.  I walked over and escorted them to our office building.  They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done.  The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway.  Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago.  Rose passed away two weeks ago.  The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing.  He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war.  He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests.  He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120.  Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year.  He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well.  Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him.  You know, they’re shorties, too.  Five foot, nothing.  Just like my grandma.  Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh?  Yeah.  After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw.  But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately.  So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September.  (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.)  I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it.  But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims.  The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet.  And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave.  I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves.  At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe.  But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them.  Still there, but manageable.  Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass.  My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic..  He’s... not so good with emotional shit.  And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me.  But some days...  Some days it just overflows.  So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people.  You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills.  The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants.  The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal.  I’ll die on this hill.  I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays.  I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else.  I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories.  I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now.  I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young.  He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase.  I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me.  The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO.  I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more.  I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story.  Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch.  Parts of it hit me hard.  I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period.  But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me.  Just like Jules.  Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings.  And I have no friends in this city to go back to.  Just friends at work. 

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months.  I’m starting to miss it.  I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself.  Did I ever look like that?  I must have since here is photographic evidence.  I look like shit now.  I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower.  Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again.  Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine.  Huh.

13) I hope you all are well.  If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding.  My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words.  I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me.  I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come.  I haven’t written since last summer.  It’s been almost a year.  I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass.  It’s about death, I suppose.  Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely.  It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass.  If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.” 

[theunredeemable]

“Hi there! I’m Ruby Rose.” She held out her hand towards Ilia, who stared dumbly at it before remembering her manners.”

“O-oh!” Taking the offered hand and giving what she hoped was an appropriate shake, she smiled at the pirate. “I’m Ilia.”

“Ilia, huh? Pretty name for a pretty girl.” She winked at the other woman, causing the faunus’s scales to turn a bright pink. “Big Puma said you’re looking for a new crew?” Trying to get her blush under control, Ilia gave Ruby a confused look. Ruby just laughed as she signalled for a drink. “That’s what we call Tukson. Just like how he calls me Red. We’re just a big ol’ family here. Aren’t we, big guy?”

Tukson grunted slightly, placing two large glasses in front of the pair, pouring in an amber drink as he shook his head. “Big old family of misfits is what we are.”

“Damn straight.” Ruby beamed in delight at Tukson, taking her glass as soon as it was full and taking a deep swig from it. Placing it back down on the counter, she frowned at the glass and looked at the man with what Ilia could only describe as puppy eyes. He let out a low sigh and refilled the glass, making sure to place a small umbrella in it. Ruby broke out into a huge grin of delight, that the Atlesian spy found incredibly cute.

“I...suppose that makes sense.” Picking up her own drink, she gave it an experimental sniff as she continued. “But yes, I am looking for a new crew. Somewhere I don’t have to hide what I am anymore.”

“Tired of that military life, then? Can’t say I blame you. I’ve heard some scary things about The Nevermore’s captain.” Ilia spluttered in surprise, choking on her drink. Ruby simply smiled as she watched, bemused with the evident shock as she held out a napkin for her.

Taking the offered cloth, Ilia attempted to pat dry where the drink had spilled on her clothes, giving the other woman a curious look. “How did you-”

“Did I know? It’s rather obvious really. Tukson said you want to escape the empire, which means you’re tired of their way of life or running from something. You’ve got that fancy Atlesian accent you only get from certain upper tier schools. You’ve just arrived on station, and the only Atlesian ship to dock today has been The Nevermore . Now, either you’re a very talented stowaway, or you’re a deserter. I’m placing money on deserter.” Ruby counted off each reason on her fingers, a small smile never leaving her face as she looked at Ilia. “Am I right?”

Ilia looked shocked, and briefly considered lying before nodding her head. “You….are correct. Winter Schnee is a better captain than most, especially for a Schnee.” The name near dripped with malice and hatred. Though it was largely an act to help sell her story, the hatred was something long buried within her and all too real. “But it’d be only a matter of time until I was reassigned again, and to someone far less forgiving of faunus crew members.”

Ruby nodded knowingly. “As I said, I can’t blame you for getting tired of being under the empire’s thumb. But if you join my crew, you won’t have to worry about ever being treated like that again. The Sanguine Dream doesn’t tolerate such sentiments. Much like here, we’re a family on my ship.”

Ilia, having just braved another drink of the surprisingly sweet and delightful alcohol, started to choke on it again at the name of the ship. “I-I’m sorry…did you say The Sanguine Dream !? You’re the infamous Crimson Rose?”

Ruby beamed in delight, offering a mock bow from her seat. “One and the same! Fastest ship in the Expanse.”

“You know….you’re the reason The Nevermore has even been assigned to this sector. They’re meant to be hunting you down.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow and that, then shrugged as she finished off her drink. “Well, if that’s true they’re headed in the wrong direction. They just jumped out of the system.” Getting up from her seat, she patted Ilia on the shoulder. “Finish your drink, it’s on me. And when you’re ready, head to docking station 72B. I’ve got some more business aboard the station to finish, but then I’ll take you to your new home.” Ilia nodded in conformation, and Ruby started to head off, calling to the station’s owner once more. “Hey, Big Puma! Get any more of those parts I requested in?”

“Go ask Mell. She got a new shipment in, might be that it includes what you're after.”

“Thanks, I’ll go check out her stall.” Ruby waved Tukson goodbye as she moved away, leaving Ilia alone as she vanished into the crowd. Weaving her way through the mass of people, the pirate captain did a mental checklist of all she had left to do. Recruiting a new crew member hadn’t been on the list, but was quite a pleasant surprise. She smiled briefly at thinking of the faunus, especially on how cute she was. “Hmm...I should probably call ahead.” Slipping in a comlink into her ear, she tapped it and waited for an indication it was on. “Ciel, you there?”

After a few seconds, a beep played in answer to her question, before the voice of her subordinate came in. “Yes Captain, I’m here. Are we almost ready to leave? We’re already behind schedule.”

“Soon, Ciel. Soon.” Ruby chuckled at the exasperated sigh from Ciel. “Just got a few more things to take care of.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, what’s the point of bringing me along to keep you on schedule, if you never stick to the schedule?”

“Maybe it’s cause I like your company, or maybe it’s so you can loosen up and get to know your fellows better. It’s been five years Ciel, you don’t have to stick to the Empire’s strict time schedule.”

“I know Captain...but it gives me comfort being on schedule when away from the ship.”

Ruby paused midstep, tilting her head in thought, before resuming her path. “I never thought of it like that. I’ll try to do better in the future, but this was a special circumstance. We’re bringing a new family member aboard.”

“I see. What does she look like?”

“Brown hair, gray eyes. Super cute.”

Ciel sighed, and Ruby imagined she was shaking her head on the other side. “Anything else to go on, Captain? Something a little more identifiable?”

“Oh believe me when you see her you’ll agree she’s cute.” Laughing, Ruby paused to briefly examine a weapons stall, humming as she glanced over the various guns there. “Do you think Yang would like a new gun?”

“She already adores the custom one you made for her, now please focus.”

“Right, sorry. What else. Oh, she’s a faunus. Chameleon I think.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. Does she know to come here?”

“Yes, I told her to head to you when she’s ready. I may have forgotten to mention that you were there, so don’t scare her too much.”

“Of course, Captain. I’ll behave. How long until you return?”

“Shouldn’t be too long. I’m just checking in with Mell to see if any of the parts came in. See you soon.” Turning off her comlink, she looked up at the bright neon sign reading ‘Mellon and Berry’s Robotics’, though several letters were unlit due to age. Shaking her head with a smile, she entered into the built in workshop, calling out over the sound of power tools at work. “Still haven’t fixed the sign then, Mell?”

Sparks stopped flying as Mell put down her blow torch, looking at Ruby from behind her welding mask. “I’ll fix it when I need to. You can still find yer way easily enough.” Lifting up the mask to reveal her grease covered face she beamed at Ruby, wheeling her wheel-chair over to the captain. “What brings you to my neck of the woods today then, lass?”

“Big Puma said you might have some things for me.” Ruby smiled brightly at the auburn haired mechanic, bending over to give her a hug before looking at the chair. “Robotics on the fritz again?”

“Nah, Berry thinks she can make more improvements to them so she’s tinkering again. Aren’t ya Berry?”

“They can always be better! I demand the best for my wife!”

Mell gestured in the vague direction of the voice. “I woke up with her trying to tinker with them in the bed, despite the fact that they’re perfectly fine!” She near shouted the last words, but a fond smile never left her face. “Anyway, come over here Red. Let’s see what we got.”

“Good to see you Berry!” Ruby shouted into the adjacent workshop, receiving only a grunt of acknowledgement. Chuckling, she followed Mell over to where several large crates sat waiting.

Mell picked up a data-slate and started swiping through it with a hum. “Now let’s see...Tukson, Ivory, Orchid, Mason, Ah! Ruby.” Tapping on the name, she read through the invoice while nodding to herself. “Hmm, well we got a few of the parts you wanted, but not many. But we did get something else for you.” Tapping the data-slate a few more times, the crate started to float.

Looking at the crate, Ruby smiled at seeing the secondary data-slate lying on top. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends on what you think it is.”

“A list of ships that might be carrying the parts I’m after?”

“Then yes, it is what you think it is.”

“Mell, you’re the best!” Quickly glancing through the device, her smile grew wider. “Oh, this is perfect. Ciel will love going through this.” Beaming with delight, Ruby hugged Mell again. The mechanic chuckled lightly, returning the hug.

“Yeah, yeah I know I’m the best. Now go ahead and take your stuff and get out of here.”

Nodding, Ruby put the slate back on top of the crate and started to push it out of the shop. “I’m going, I’m going. See you next time Mell. Take care Berry!”

“Bye Red, good to see you!” Berry cried out, though never left her private workshop, causing Mell and Ruby to laugh.

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

Ilia made her way through the station, weaving through the people in the crowded market as she tried to reach the elevator that would take her to the docking platforms. While she didn’t know what she expected, she didn’t think that a simple neutral station would be so populous. What astounded her the most was seeing people from all corners of the galaxy getting along. She had paused outside one bar where she saw Atlesian soldiers drinking and conversing with those from the Regime, surprise evident on her face. Outside of this station, they’d be mortal enemies, fighting and dying on the whims of people they had never met to protect their territory. Seeing them drink together, laugh together, had given Ilia something to ponder over as she walked.

So distracted by this line of thought was she, that she stopped paying attention to her surroundings and walked straight into a mountain of man. The force of their impact knocked her on her rear. “Oof!” blinking she looked up at the individual who slowly turned to look down at her. Feeling a spark of fear, she looked up at him in turn, eyes wide at the masked face that greeted her. Turning in full, he reached down towards her, arm tattooed and large, and offered her a hand.

“Are you ok, Madam?”

Blinking, Ilia gingerly took the offered hand with a sheepish smile. “Y-yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

The giant helped her up, almost sending her flying with the strength behind the action as she stumbled to find her footing. “Nonsense, such things happen more often than you think, so there is no need to apologise. Now, is there anything I can do to assist you?”

“U-uh yes, actually. I’m trying to get down to docking station 72B. I’m not really sure which direction I’m meant to be going though?”

The man nodded, tapping the chin of his full face mask as he turned to look about. “Understandable, it is very easy to get turned around in the markets, but you are in luck.” He pointed to an elevator a short distance away. “That over there will transport you directly to Deck B, and from there it is a matter of simply following the signs to the correct station. If you get lost, one of the guards will be more than happy to find your way.”

Ilia nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but another voice cut her off. “Lieutenant! You’re needed at Dandelion’s. Another drunken brawl broke out.”

The lieutenant sighed, shaking his head as he rolled his shoulders. “Sorry madam, duty calls. I hope you find your way.”

“Oh, of course. Thank you, sir.” Ilia watched the man walk away, marvelling at the way the crowd of people parted before him, either out of respect or fear she could not tell. Probably a mix of both, she mused quietly as she went the direction shown to her. Stepping into the elevator, she soon found the button to take her where she needed, and waited as the machine moved. Readjusting the back on her shoulder, her foot tapped impatiently as the hum of machinery filled the air. It took several minutes, but soon the doors reopened before her, revealing that she had traded one busy area for another.

Stepping out onto the deck, she watched as several workers ran about in controlled chaos. Some were simply unloading cargo ships, directing the crates to the various service lifts that would take them through the trading station. Others were in the process of refueling shuttles that would soon be departing. Looking up, she found herself standing on platform 43B. A glance to her left showed the numbers descending, and ascending to the right. Nodding to herself, she took off in the direction she needed, keeping a careful eye on the platform numbers, and the people rushing around her. She didn’t want a repeat incident of running into someone, especially when this time there were fuel canisters and hanger controls that could accidentally be hit.

Twenty minutes later she finally found herself standing at platform 72B. It was far quieter than any of the other platforms she had come across, the red coloured shuttle having already been refuelled. Quickly glancing around, Ilia didn't see any sign of the pirate captain, and made her way towards the ship to wait. As she approached, the rear door to the shuttle hissed open, lowering as a semi-familiar face appeared. The woman walked out of the ship, still looking at her data-slate. "The ship's all ready to leave as soon as you get the cargo aboard and our new crew member arr-" She stopped as she finally looked up, eyes wide in recognition. "Operative Amitola!"

"Operative Soleil!" Both stood there, mouths agape, before pointing at one another and speaking in unison. "What are you doing here!!"

"I work for Captain Rose." Ciel stood a little straighter, pride emanating from her. "Why are you here, Amitola."

"I'm sorry, you're working for The Crimson Rose? All this time?" Ilia looked astounded. "We thought you had died…"

"I almost did… Ruby saved me after I was left behind by the Empire. I couldn't go back after what they did… so I joined her crew. But that still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Ah, I see you two already know each other! That saves on introductions." Both jumped at Ruby's sudden appearance. She smirked at the pair as she pushed the crate out of the service lift she had ridden in. "Ilia here is joining our family, just like I said."

Ciel sighed, shaking her head as she moved to help Ruby load the cargo. "You might have given me more to go on than just descriptions, Captain."

"Probably should have, but it worked out in the end. Come along Ilia!" Shaking her head, the Faunus Operative followed closely behind. "Got all your belongings with you?"

"Yes ma'am. At least, everything I could carry."

"Then make yourself comfortable. Time for us to head home. Oh, and Ciel, I got you a gift." The captain passed the data-slate over to Ciel, who instantly brightened up as she started to work her way through the information and decrypting it's secrets.

"Ah, wonderful. Thank you captain."

"Thank me by finding a good target. We still need a lot of parts for our little project. Now, Ilia. Come help me out in the cockpit." Nodding, Ilia once again followed behind Ruby and took a seat in the co-pilot's chair, helping her new captain go through the process of getting the ship ready for launch.

A short while later, the shuttle flew through the void and away from the station, carrying Ilia to her new home for the coming months.

[agileo-101]

A nightmare has ended today. I would like to share that with you guys to celebrate! This will be a long post so honker down guys.

At the beginning of November, my account was hacked. My PayPal and my Google pay account were abridged.

On my PayPal, $1,236.50 was spent on 2 different power tools (what the hell am i gonna do with power tools??? this stuff is for house owners and i live in a freaking apartment!)

On my Google pay, a total of $ 3,057.12 was spent on freaking pixel 4

Now, I am going to assume this was done by two different hackers because their address is different, plus one guy's at Virginia.

I blurred out my name and my mom's name but those two are definitely not my address.

I even have one of the guy's name (or a fake name idk)

This was my major wtf moment. I was barely getting by paying my tuition and this happened. What little remaining money I had saved for Christmas gift was ripped away from me. The biggest irony of it all was that both of my Google pay account and PayPal had less than 100 dollars in it. Why the heck did those 2 companies allowed huge amount of money pulled out like that???? It was beyond me!!!

So the PayPal thing happened First.

At first everything was super frustrating every company was pushing off responsibility at each other. Acemetool claimed i need to talk to PayPal, PayPal claimed I need to talk to the merchant and this went on for a while.

I had to contact my bank first to cancel my card for security reasons and they issued me a new one (the front desk lady and consultant lady were so helpful and friendly.... Bless your hearts!!!). Then I had to call acemetool website to inform that the tools were a fraudulent order. They had to contact FedEx in order to intercept the packages. Thankfully I had contacted them early and the packages were returning to the warehouse. The staffs at the call center was amazing and they helped every step of the way.

Now this took me at least more than 2 weeks to resolve. I thought, yay! Surely I can get something for my parents and sister for this Christmas!

By end of November.... My Google pay was hacked....

Now, the Google pay was tricky one. The hacker went as far as to put the shipping notice email into the trash to prevent me from noticing that an order was placed. Now, I learned that contacting Google was as hard as finding regular shonen anime that featured man's nipple.

I had submitted a dispute regarding the ridiculous fraudulent order. Within two days my dispute was rejected. Because apparently, the hacker used my mother's name and the guy happened to live in same district as me (it took a lot out of me not to hunt down the bastard) so, they thought that my RELATIVE has placed an order and closed the case. I was devastated.i spent a week or so dejected and rolling my head to figure out this issue (this is why when my commissioned plushie, Little Ghiaccio Nya came in, that was a big cheer for me). 

anyway, How do I prove myself when I could barely find contact?!

So this is my tip to you guys if you EVER get hacked and need to contact Google. Your laptop does not hold the answer. Your phone does. Google had it set up that if you don't have Google pay app on your phone, it is virtually impossible to contact anyone. When you download the app, it gives you two options. Call or chat. I would recommend chat over the call because for call you will have to wait FOR HOURS! But in chat all you have to wait is couple of seconds. The investigating team/security team had temporarily frozen my account for safety reasons. I easily provided that I did not order the items. With my id, my mother's id and our home address on our drivers' licenses, the invoice from the bank vs the address that was on the shipping address (and the guy’s name when he signed for the package release). plus, on my Google store history, my purchase never exceeded $20 so the sudden crazy amount of spending was tad alarming. The agent from Google play support was very helpful, she answered all my questions and got back to me as soon as she could (which again, was so kind of her. She went on extra miles to assist me)

And today I was informed that the agent who was helping me

THANK GOD!!!!!

It is finally over! And this took about a little over two weeks to solve with google.

So yeah, I had been living under stress for good two months. It was such a wild rollercoaster ride. I was depressed because while I worked my butt off everyday to provide for family (I am also full time student, so I am sacrificing my social life, sleep and time to do my homework. I wake up 5 I the morning go to class, get to work at 4:30, clock out at 9:30, do homework until 2 in the morning. And repeat) and some jackass who doesn't want to do earnest earnings decided to steal what little I had. I experienced cruelty, greed and major frustration.

But at same time, I saw kindness from staff members at the bank, acemetool, and Google

Can't say same for you PayPal, got abridged first place, put me on hold for 40 min, barely answered my questions and the best thing you told me to do was "change my password" You did not offer me explanation as in why the hell you allowed more then $ 1,000 dollars to be pulled out of my account when I barely had $100 in there! grow some balls, have respect and Tighten your security for f**k sake

Then my friends from University who prayed for me, professors who encouraged me and. @dratinimartini @processormalfunction @x-01-king @lyxine you guys were my moral and emotional support. You guys are gem!

I sigh with relief and happy that it was over with. i am little paranoid every time i check my account, i tripped my security and changed all my passwords to all of the currently existing accounts. that is to be expected.

i’m still mad that those hackers are out there, invading ppl’s privacy and stealing their hard earn monies.i hope that whoever hacked my account, karma has something stored for them >:(

for now, i sleep with my legs stretched out. for christmas, i had commission money that came to my way (thanks for the $50 K-Bro!) and i will use that to buy something for my family :D so happy merry Christmas eve everyone.

stay safe

[prorevenge]

Hell hath no fury like a teenager scorned...

It's a long story, spans years of time. ~~~Cue hazy flashback to 1997/8~~~

Growing up, my family ran a business dealing with water and wastewater pumps. By the time I was in high school, I worked for them outside of school as needed, and I'd grown up around the industry. At the time of this story I was 16, maybe 17. I got a few funny looks out in the field sometimes, but normally wasn't a problem, this time, it was.

Many sales they make do are bids. You go to the builders exchange, which is basically a library for plans and blueprints. You pull the plans, get to the part applicable to you, and see what they want or need. Then you submit a price you think will win you the job.

Many times the plans will actually specify a model that meets their needs, in which case you bid that or a comparable one. Other times, they will give specifications and selection and matching is up to you, going through books and software for curves (chart that shows how it flows under load).

This time was the former. The job is a retrofit/expansion on the city plant. The engineer had specified a model of pump he wanted, and I'd matched it's specs. Put in a submittal for approval on the substitution as required. It gets approved and we are cleared to enter a bid.

We proceed forward putting together the bid. At one point, I have the plans in front of me and I'm looking at the drawings. I don't like what I'm seeing, which is a lot of pipe and a lot of distance. I check and recheck and come up with the same result. The total head (head is how far you're pumping, calculated by distance and including losses from the pipe) is too much for the pump that was specified, way too much. This puts the pump way outside it's curve, it's going to be deep into overload.

I used my corrected numbers and found a proper match, but not only was it significantly more expensive, but physically different, would require large revisions. So I put together a revised submittal with the numbers I ran, and the recommended pump. It included the math from the drawings and the curves. Faxed it over to the engineers office, then I called him.

It did not go well. Not only did he not listen to me, he was more than happy to lecture me. How dare I, a kid, tell him how to do his job. No, he would not accept any revisions or resubmittals, I had no idea what I was talking about and I, personally, was no longer to have contact on this project. He did not use nice words.

This couldn't stand, it was going to cause serious problems down the line. So I did the only thing I could think of, I found the contact for city planning and told him. Made it about three minutes into trying to explain who I was and why I was calling before he cut me off and told me to refer to Engineer and not to contact him again. Tried again for someone else later, did not make it past receptionist.

As. You. Wish.

I took the revised submittal and filed it in the back of the job file and moved on. (I wasn't needed for the rest and I had other things to do, plus school)

Fast forward almost two years, now going to college, still working for my folks as needed. Construction complete, get called in for startup. Goes smoothly as it should, and the countdown to destruction begins.

I think the first one went after about three months? Only made it that long because those pumps are very well built. Emergency ship in a replacement. Second one a week or three after, then another, and another, then the replacements start failing. The whole time, these are being invoiced including emergency shipping, and having to run out to start them up every time. They have no choice, THIS is the model the pads were cast for and the piping run for. You can't directly substitute something else, like, say, the correct pumps.

Then it gets really fun. They start returning the burnt out units for warranty.

The factory starts receiving these and tearing them down for failure analysis. I told our rep straight up that they were being run way outside their design point knowingly, he was not amused. Warranty is denied and they are billed for the diagnostic time and shipping. Manufacturer was in Germany by the way (shout out to the fine folks at KSB, love ya). These units are neither small, nor light. Plus these are being shipped as emergency orders. It's not cheap.

Warranties officially denied to the buyer. We tell them in no uncertain terms that this isn't a problem with the units. (this is now almost a year after the plant was due to come online)

Now the shit has really hit the fan. City council gets involved, because this is a municipal plant. Lawsuits are threatened, and a council meeting is scheduled to discuss further action.

I marked the day, and arranged with my teachers to take a few days off (didn't live close to home). Drove 3 1/2 hours to see my parents, and, to visit their filing cabinet. Right where I left it. Out came the revised submittal, and a quick trip to Kinkos (local copy shop) provided some wonderful blown up posters of said submittal as well as the proofs behind it.

The next day, I drove another 2 1/2 hours up to said City, had a lovely meatball sandwich at a restaurant right across the street from the council building and showed up to the council meeting. I even dressed up nice for the occasion.

I didn't say anything to anyone, just sat in the back in my chair with my rolled up posters next to me and waited. Took about forty minutes.

The council finally brings up the plant. Guess who comes up to testify in front of the council? It's Engineer.

He goes on for about ten minutes talking shit about our company and how we are denying the warranties. Basically states that the problem is due to the substitution and that our pumps were substandard.

This is a loss now counted in the millions between the downtime and replacement costs and rejected warranties, labor etc. Council swallows his bullshit hook, line and sinker. He sits down and the council starts discussing among themselves. This is my cue.

I stand up, approach the podium, and wait for them to notice me, doesn't take long as I'm a teenager in a city council meeting. I introduce myself and unroll the posters.

Me: Hi! I'm Crispy Silicon from Goingtoruinyourfuckingday! Before you proceed any further, you should probably have a look at this, which is the revised submittal I sent to Engineer prior to the initial bid. You'll note the date. Also attached you'll find the supporting calculations, relevant drawings from the original plans, and the recommendation of a larger suitable unit. You'll also see the fax acknowledgement sheet, showing it was received by his office.

Me: Immediately after sending that, I contacted Engineer directly and advised him of these issues. He declined, I was told outright to keep my nose out of things I didn't understand and to leave engineering to the adults. He was well aware the units would self destruct if run at this point.

Me: After that I called your planner, who refused to listen, and referred me back to Engineer.

Me: If you'd like, I'd be more than willing to contact our phone provider, so they can verify that fax and those calls were placed?

I'm grinning like the Cheshire Cat at this point and I'm not holding back the evil one bit. I'm sure I looked like a psychopath, couldn't help it, also didn't care.

Dead. Fucking. Silence.

Me: So yeah, the warranties are void as all of the units were operated well beyond their design point. I still stand by the revised submittal, so feel free to call when you're ready. I'll leave these here.

Still completely silent. The entire council looks like I just dropped my pants and mooned them. Then after a few seconds, one of the ladies on the council gave me a "Thank you Mr. Silicon. You can go."

I left my posters on the podium, turned and walked, made full eye contact with Engineer as long as I could with that same grin. He looked like he was probably going to vomit, didn't stick around to check.

Stopped by to give my folks a hug on the way back to school and that was the end of my involvement.

No idea what happened to Engineer or Planner, but the City paid every invoice in full without another peep. They had continue to purchase replacement after replacement to limp it along while simultaneously trying to re-refit the plant. They finally got it fixed after about another year, but by that time, I can't even imagine how far over the projected estimate they were.

(source) story by (/u/crispysilicon)

[sudoscience]

New In Town Ch 2: Some Things Are Universal

Once again, I suggest reading the original on AO3.

Summary: Rudy's first day working for Asgore, featuring a brief appearance by Kris and special guest star Comedian Dad.

After breakfast, I decide to go down to Flower King and tell Asgore I'll accept his job offer. He is once again watering the flowers, and I begin to wonder if plants really need this much water. Maybe that's why everything I've tried growing dies. Then again, I do know that overwatering is also possible, but that's really about the extent of my knowledge when it comes to plant care. Asgore's the expert here, so I won't question his judgment.

When he turns to greet me, he once again seems caught off guard. This time, however, his look is that of pleasant surprise. "Oh! I take it you've made up your mind?"

Am I that easy to read? Or would he have sounded so hopeful even if I had been coming to tell him I'd found work elsewhere?

"Yes, as a matter of fact," I say. "I've decided I'll take you up on your offer."

"Excellent! Why don't you keep an eye on the store for a bit? I need to go pick up some more supplies."

Really? I haven't even been here 5 minutes, and he's going to leave me by myself? "Wait! I don't even know what to do. I don't really know anything about selling flowers."

"Don't worry! It's usually pretty slow. If anyone comes in, just follow your instincts. Find something you think they'll like, and give them that. If you still need help, here's my cellphone. I shouldn't be gone for very long."

"Okay," I say hesitantly. I guess I should be glad he already trusts me this much. After he leaves, I realize we haven't even discussed my pay. That seems like something better discussed in person, so I decide to wait until he returns.

---

Asgore is right; it's very slow. Several minutes go past, and there doesn't even seem to be anyone outside the store, let alone in it. I decide to sweep up, maybe straighten a few of the displays, when a customer finally enters. It's an older looking, blue and white bird monster.

"Hey! You're new heah! Where's the othah guy?" the bespectacled bird says.

"Oh, Asgore had to get some more supplies. I'm his new... assistant?" I actually have no idea what my title is. I guess that's something else I'll need to ask him about. "How can I help you today?"

"I was lookin' to buy some flowahs for my wife's grave. Whaddya got?"

"Oh, my condolences. Let's see what we can find." I begin to look through the arrangements Asgore has already made, but nothing catches my eye. Suddenly, I notice a bouquet of white and pale blue flowers, with a few light pink carnations mixed in as accents. I think they're carnations, at least. Have I mentioned I don't really know anything about flowers?

If I were to make some sort of abstract flower art of this bird, this bouquet would probably be the result. The colors are a near-perfect match; I actually hope he doesn't find it too vain. The flowers are for his late wife, after all, not him. "How's this?" I ask.

"Oh, those are wondahful. My wife, she would love 'em. I'll take 'em."

Wow, maybe this is easier than I thought. I move over to the register, then I realize I spoke too soon. None of these flowers have prices on them. "One second, please," I tell my first customer. "I'm not sure how much these cost."

"I guess that means they're free, hahaha!" Some things are universal, I suppose.

I stifle myself from sarcastically telling the customer he should be a comedian before I call Asgore, but he there's no response. Well, he has to have a price list somewhere, or at least an invoice or something so I can know if I'm selling them above cost. I decide to look upstairs.

Huh, I didn't realize he actually lived here. He doesn't seem to have much of an office, though. There's really not much to look through, but I do find something. To my shock, however, it's a note from his landlord demanding that Asgore start selling flowers in lieu of giving them away. I push down my feelings of betrayal for now and decide I'll just have to make up a price.

I don't think I've ever even bought flowers before, so I have no idea what they typically cost. "How's, uh, 50G sound?" I ask. Whatever confidence I had has evaporated as quickly as it came.

"50 bucks and the flowahs? Wow, what a bahgain!"

This time, I give him a sarcastic laugh. "No, really. 50G. Does that sound like a fair price?"

"Listen, kid. I know you're new heah, so I'll cut ya some slack, but I've been coming heah a long time. Asgoah, he's a good friend of mine. An old friend. I'm not pullin' your leg when I say he usually gives 'em to me for free."

"I believe you. But, let me tell you a secret. Don't tell him I said this, but money's a little tight right now. Now, I'd think if you really were good friends with Asgore, you'd want to help him out, right? Isn't that what friends do? I know I'm not your friend, not yet, but how about I cut you a deal? What would you say to 40G?"

"I'd say, 'Hey, you look lonesome. How's about movin' into my wallet?'" He laughs uproariously at his own joke. Even though he's really starting to get on my nerves, I give him a little chuckle, too.

"Does that sound like a deal?" I ask.

"35G sounds even bettah," he replies.

I really have no idea what any of this stuff costs, but 35G sounds way too low to me. "Look, I really don't think I can go lower than 40G. Any lower than that, and we're losing money." Is it still lying if you think it might actually be true?

"Okay, okay, you drive a hahd bahgain, kid. 40G it is."

"Thank you, sir! Have a great day!" I say as I put the money into the otherwise empty cash register. I'm really going to have to have a long talk with Asgore when he gets back. When is he getting back, anyway? He said he wouldn't be very long, but it's already been nearly an hour and a half.

"You, too, kid," the widower replies. "You're alright, y'know? For a human." I decide to ignore that last part.

---

Finally, Asgore returns. "I'm sorry, that took much longer than I expected. I trust you didn't run into any trouble while I was away?"

"Well, a little bit, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Oh, I thought of a few questions for you while you were out."

"Oh? I'm all ears."

"First of all, where are the prices for any of these? I looked around, but I couldn't find anything to help. There was only one customer while you were out, but I had to just make up a price, so I ended up charging him 40G. I hope that's not too low."

Asgore gives me a shocked look. "Too low?" he asks. He sounds calm, but I think I detect a slight tinge of anger in his voice. "Too low? Why, I don't think I could ever charge my friends that high of a price. Did I not set the example by giving you your flowers free of charge? Do you think I should have sold them to you instead?"

"Look, I don't wanna sound ungrateful or anything, but, yeah, I was absolutely expecting to pay for the flowers. Because that's what most businesses do: they sell their products. I didn't realize—again, I really appreciate that you gave me the flowers for free—but I didn't realize you were in the habit of doing so."

"I see..."

"That actually brings me to my next question. When I was looking for the prices, I saw the note. From the landlord."

"Oh..." is all Asgore says.

"If you aren't making any money here, how were you going to pay me? Were you expecting me to work for free?"

"No, no, of course not," he stammers. "I, well, I suppose I kind of rushed into hiring you, didn't I? I've always been a man of my word, doing my best to keep my promises. I believe that's the right thing to do. But what are you supposed to do when a promise you've made contradicts a promise to someone else?" He lets out a sigh before continuing.

"This shop has been a lifelong dream of mine, which is saying something considering how long I've lived. You asked me how much these flowers go for. The truth is, 40G is definitely on the low side. Sure, the grocery stores in Twin Falls might sell flowers for even less, but a shop like mine? I could probably get away with charging five times as much. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to keep giving them away for free, either, but then I developed a reputation for it, and I didn't want to let anyone down. Obviously, I failed.

"I may not have let my customers down, but I let down everyone else. I let down C, but, more importantly, I let down my family. I'm a failure."

"Hey, don't be too hard on yourself," I say. "People love your flowers, don't they? And I just proved that they'll pay for them. And they'll pay for them because they love you. We can figure something out."

"You're right. I just need to stay determined. I shouldn't have any problem coming up with 8000G by the end of the month."

My jaw drops. "8000G? That's with the past months' rent, too, right?"

"No, that's how much I'm supposed to pay each month. It takes a lot of water and electricity to grow all these flowers, and C says this is prime real estate. I guess I will have to pay the past months' rent, as well. Let's see, that'd be about 40,000G altogether. Golly, I sure hope C isn't charging interest on that."

"I hope so, too," I say, weakly.

8000G just for one month. If Asgore's right, and the townspeople are willing to pay 200G for his bouquets, then that means we should only have to sell 40 to cover the rent. That should be no problem in what seems to be a town with a population of 15. (I'm being sarcastic here, if that wasn't obvious.)

---

Around lunchtime, Asgore's child stops by. From what little I can see of their face, they seem faintly surprised to see me, maybe slightly amused, too. "Hey, Kris," I say, awkwardly, "how's it going?"

They give me a terse, "Alright." There's a pause, and I get the sense that neither one of us is terribly great at small talk. "Is Asgore around?" they ask.

"Oh, um, I think he's in the back. Do you want me to get him for you?"

"No, I'll wait."

"Okay," I reply. The silence is nearly palpable. I try to break it. "So, uh, how's... school?"

"Okay." I can tell from their tone that they aren't really interested in talking to me. I would have thought the only two humans in town would have bonded more easily, but that doesn't seem to be the case. "How's not getting paid?"

I bite my tongue while reminding myself that they're a teenager. They're practically purpose-built to get under your skin. I suppose I should see it as a small victory that they're even engaging me in conversation at all, even if it is just to antagonize me. "It's not all it's cracked up to be," I say.

Then, inspiration strikes. "You know, Kris, maybe you could help out. If you're not too busy with school, maybe you could make some flyers for your dad's shop. 'Flowers for any occasion, or no occasion at all!' or something like that."

"Why would you want my help?" they retort. "You should ask my brother, Asriel. He's the perfect one. He's gonna save the world, so why not save a flower shop while he's at it?" Their words drip with hostility. "And I'm busy, anyway."

"Alright, forget I asked," I say. "I'm gonna go find Asgore now."

"Don't bother. I'll see him later." They turn to leave.

Out of customer service habit, I tell them to have a great day, but that strikes me as inappropriate, somehow. Part of me thinks it might be worthwhile to have Asgore reach out to his older son for help, but then I realize that would likely only worsen tensions with Kris.

Another part of me ponders asking Asgore if I can be a delivery driver instead, but I can already see the scenario unfolding: I deliver flowers to that comedian from earlier, and wait patiently for him to give me my tip, only for him to say, "Here's a tip: stay in school," leaving me to meekly tell him I have a bachelor's degree and walk away empty-handed. What was it Asgore told himself? I just need to stay determined. This will work out.

[If you enjoyed reading this, please consider reblogging, or even just replying to say what you liked or didn’t like or what you hope happens next. I’m not promising anything, but it’s really hard to stay motivated to work on this when there’s hardly any feedback.]

[whiskeyworen]

Aspect V : Of Confusion and Identification

Events were starting to roll together, to cascade and collide with each other. It was inevitable; I could not hope to keep things isolated, keep my tracks covered. Not that I wanted or needed to try very hard. But there was no way I could keep these events secret for much longer. Event 1: Cyrus frowned as he looked at the data pad concerning supplies and resources being shipped through the Forsaken Aspect's cargo Asura gate. The gate itself was intrinsically tied to the Home Base, and the autofactory there, and only ever transported finished goods or accepted other goods to be used in the construction of finished product. One of which, according to the datapad...was incorrect. "What the hell?... Deldrimor Steel ingots? Corrogen filament bundles? Liquid crystal in suspension fluid?... why are these numbers wrong?" He scrolled back up the list, frowning further. The numbers weren't dramatically wrong, but for the last few weeks apparently, one item would have more than the usual amount shipped into the holds. But the sell-rates indicated the standard amount was being sold on market. "Every time, we're shipping in 120% of the amount we need...but we're just selling the regular amount. Where's that 20% going?" He checked the logs, and raised an eyebrow. There's no way she'd make a mistake like this...unless, is she skimming from the top? No... It couldn't be.

Cyrus set out to find Verula. If she was actually involved in this, it would mean she was lying to him. And that had not happened before.

Event 2:

In another part of the ship, Verula was noticing something too. It wasn't the incoming shipping invoice versus the outgoing. But it was the fact that the missing resources were being diverted to a different hold on the ship. Again, it was a little bit at a time, and never more than one kind of resource at a time.

"Hrmm... Was it a transportation error?" She grumbled, running a claw down the bridge of her nose in frustration. The one thing she hated doing was going into the program code for the transport golems and Watchworks that normally did things semi-autonomously. An error in item transportation might be the first symptom of either a program failure... or of the Watchworks beginning to truly think for themselves. Neither was a good outcome.

"At least I know where it's all going." She sighed and began to head from the weapons bay towards the massive cargo holds. Verula consulted her own datapad, and shrugged. "I'll have to ask Cyrus why he's authorizing it though. If he just wanted to spare some stuff as a supply dump, or for a nestegg or something, we could have easily made the adjustment. There's no reason for him to be sneaky about it."

"...why ship it to Cargo bay 4 though?" The thought perplexed her.

Event 3:

Tenna couldn't really understand what was going on. She'd just been passing through the ship's corridors, thinking about one thing or another, when she realized she'd wandered by the cavernous cargo bays that lined the belly of the Forsaken Aspect. It still amazed her how big the ship really was, and delighted her how surprised the rest of the world would be if they ever revealed it, but the cargo bays were downright massive on their own! She almost felt they were so big they could have their own weather systems!

But here she was at Cargo 4...and she couldn't get in.

It wasn't a case of the bay doors being locked or anything. Well, they WERE; she could see the door indicator glowing red. But it was the two nine-foot tall Watchwork Knights standing guard on either side of the door with their almost-as-huge energy halberds crossed like a big X in front of those doors that confused her. Why were Watchworks guarding the doors?

"Watchwork Knights. User Code: Gamma-Three-Tenna-Solar." She intoned in a commanding voice, hands on her hips. "Acknowledge."

Both Knights turned their gazes towards her, their optics glittering green. Both spoke at the same time, in the same chippy monotone Watchworks used when they didn't have their mimic fields on. "User Acknowledged. Tenna Danae Acknowledged. How can this unit help?"

"Why are there two Watchknights guarding this bay? If I try to proceed, will you attempt to stop me?" Tenna queried, looking from one to the other.

"This unit was assigned to prohibit entrance to Cargo Bay 4 until further notice. Attempt to gain entry to Cargo Bay 4 will be met by escalating resistance." It replied simply.

Tenna knew what 'escalating resistance' meant. If she tried to push past, they would at first pick her up and move her back to 'safe distance' before returning to their posts. If she continued to try, they would increase their aggressiveness. First would come a gentle tap with the handle of the halberd. Then maybe a harder hit. Then a jab with the energy-tipped end. If she pushed really far and kept trying, they would revert to their Nightmare forms which were FAR more capable of bodily harm, with their grab-bag of horrifying weapons that were normally kept neutral in their simulacrum form.

"Who ordered you to guard this bay?" Tenna was now curious and irritated. There had to be something on the other side someone didn't want anyone to see. Depending on what name was spoken, it would say a lot about that person.

"This unit was ordered by Cyrus Sigismund to stand guard." The automaton replied, its voice fuzzing for a second.

Tenna stared at it. Was that a glitch? I almost caught something there. It said Cyrus's name, but... was that some distortion in it?

Event 4:

Sonnya headed down the airdock after using the service elevator. It had taken her a while to make it through the bustling morass that was the Lion's Arch aerodrome, but she finally found the docks she had been invited to.

It was an out-of-the-way dock, on the backside of the Aerodrome, with no other docks nearby. She could see just from looking that the reason it was alone on this side was because of the mountains that flanked Lion's Arch on the southern edge, the ridges before BloodTide Coast began. Oh, she could see another handful of docks sticking out of the upper reaches of the aerodrome on this side, far up the sheer walls of the building, but this one was the only one down near the rocks. Parking any kind of ship here must be anxiety-inducing and aggravating, as a mere wind could blow a ship off course and into the jagged peaks.

Yet sure enough, there was a modern Airship parked at the end of the dock, the protective energy walls of its main deck and the band that held the airship's floatation bag certainly marking it as a post-Scarlet design.

As she got nearer, she could see there was a crewman standing by the hatch, apparently on guard, or waiting for her. He was non-descript as they come; if you looked up 'Standard human' in a library, this man could be on the page as 'Example'.

"Hi, I'm Sonnya Danae? I was invited to board the Forsaken Aspect at dock 43?" She asked him, unsure if she had the right ship. She hadn't seen the moniker written on the side or on the energy bands anywhere. Was this the right ship?

The crewman looked her over once, a blank expression on his face, and nodded. "Sonnya Danae. Please follow me. You are expected in Cargo Bay 4." He gestured inside, and followed her in, securing the hatch behind them. As the door secured, Sonnya stumbled slightly. Something was off. Immediately her in-eye HUD lit up, searching for threats, and she did a quick scan of her environment.

What the?... It had to be a mistake. This was a Pact-standard airship! She knew the dimensions of a ship of this class! Even the hall itself didn't look like a standard Pact ship. The deck was solid and smooth, not rivetted metal, and the walls were clean and seamless. It was like it wasn't constructed in the same shipyards as the Fleet at all. So then why were her sensors reporting that, rather than stepping onto the bridge from that hatch, that she had stepped into some long corridor in a much larger vessel? Why was her HUD filled with such distortion? In trying to compare where she was to the diagram of a Pact ship, her mapper was fuzzing out and asking to be shut off due to error!

"What...what kind of ship is this?" She asked breathlessly, as the crewman walked slowly and smoothly down the hall.  He turned back slightly to consider her, before repeating. "You are expected at Cargo Bay 4. Please follow me."

Unable to understand, and wide-eyed with amazement, Sonnya could only follow.

Event 1 + 2 = Collision

"Verula. There you are." Cyrus's voice was slightly harsher than he would have liked. It hadn't taken him long to cross paths with the Charr soldier, even on a ship the size of the Forsaken Aspect. He waved the datapad at her idly. "I think we need to talk."

"Indeed we do." Verula replied, holding up her own slate and indicating the offending lines. "Just why are you diverting goods to Cargo Bay 4? Or is this a glitch in the inventory systems?"

Cyrus frowned, and handed her his slate, while taking hers. His frown deepened. "What in the hell? I never authorized this! Wait.... these items..."

His gaze shot up as Verula grunted, skimming the slate he'd given her. "Yeah. These are the items that are got redirected. So it's a system glitch." Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "What... Wait a moment. Why is MY authorization on this? I would never do this.... Is someone trying to set me up?!"

"So...you're not bringing in 120% of the usual goods and skimming 20% off for yourself?" Cyrus asked slowly.

She just looked at him, hurt. Then she countered. "Well, are you taking that 20% and sending it to Bay 4? And if I was skimming, then why were you authorizing the skimming by moving the product there?"

They were both silent, staring at each other, before glancing at the slates. "... We need to get to Bay 4. I got a bad feeling about this."

Event 1+2 x 3 = Cascade

Sonnya didn't know where she was on the ship, but near an intersection deep in the hull, she and the crewmember ran into two rather recognizable people. The moment she saw them, her suit's database brought up snapshots for her vision. That's that Cyrus Sigismund! And... Verula Faithbreaker? What are they doing here?

In surprise she'd simply stopped walking, staring at them as they approached at a rather brisk pace. They seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.

Cyrus looked up from the slate he was consulting, noticing the asura and crewman standing in the corridor intersection. His troubled expression settled into a perplexed frown, as he flicked his gaze from Sonnya to the crewman and back. It might have been just an illusion caused by reflected lights, but she swore she could see a faint purple glow behind his left pupil. "....Verula, do you have any idea why there's a stranger walking the decks of my ship?" He asked not-so-quietly. "... Or why there's a Watchwork Knight with its Illusion Matrix on, to look like some kind of ship's crew?"

A growl escaped the Charr warrior, and she reached for her sword and axe. "I do not."

"Watchwork Knight??" Sonnya's fear was sudden and abrupt. It wasn't that she couldn't take something like that these days; it was the fact that there was one close enough to her that it was an actual danger that made her jump. That's when she realized he'd been talking about the crewman, so she turned to look at him, wonderingly.

The crewman was looking at her with that same, calm, almost blank expression -- right before the 'Illusion Matrix' deactivated, revealling a kind of WatchKnight she'd never seen before. It wasn't one of Scarlet's designs, with exposed gearing and slapped-together parts. It wasn't even like the Queen's new Watchknight 2.0s that had been revealled at the last Queen's Jubilee. Those had been sleeker, more refined, but still had a distinctly machined appearance.

This Watchknight had smooth, rounded panels, more akin to a human frame than a puppet, with silvered filigree etched into its golden frame. Its mouth was still a simple hinge affair, which she now could see open and shut as a monotone, female voice came from it. "You are expected in Cargo Bay 4. Please come with me."

That got Cyrus's attention. He stepped up to Sonnya and the Watchknight, looking from one to the other. "Wait a moment. What do you mean she's expected at Bay 4? What is a non-crew member doing onboard my ship."

"I was invited!" Sonnya protested. "One of your crew invited me on board last week, for some reason."

"How? We were in Elona back then. How could anyone invite you?" Verula asked, sidling up beside Cyrus and crossing her arms. "Who would invite you? HOW would they invite you? A letter? They'd have to have some pretty good timing!"

The charr's cynicism irritated Sonnya, so she pulled a device off her belt and tossed it less-than-nicely to her. "I got this via mail over a week ago. I don't recognize the design, but's a damned comm, furball."

Verula took one look at the unit in her hand and her eyes widened. "Cyrus... this is one of OUR comms. But I only made four of those. I don't... this isn't one of mine."

"This just keeps getting more and more mysterious." Cyrus muttered, scratching his chin. "It still begs the question; if someone DID make another comm and send it to... What's your name?"

"Sonnya. Sonnya Danae." She replied smartly. She felt a bit more relaxed now that the pressure was off her. But now this human and charr both flinched away from her at the mention of her name.

"She's a Danae?" Verula asked carefully.

"Apparently so." He considered Sonnya as if for the first time, taking in her features. "Yeah, I can see it now. The shape of the chin, the eyes, the markings. You are her sister aren't you?" He paused, thinking back almost six months. "Wait a moment... I ran into you back in Hoelbrak during Dragonbash!"

Sonnya paled, before blushing heavily. Oh god, it was him wasn't it. That nice person who found me blitzed out of my head and made sure I slept it off was him. Why did it have to be him? She shook her head, groaning mentally as she remembered. It was the first time she'd drank alchohol since she had her implants fully installed, the first time since the incident with the Shatterer. Things had not gone as planned; instead of dulling down drunkness, the implants had worked overtime and done the exact opposite. She'd ended up badly drunk in public after only a few drinks, wandering the thoroughfares in a blissful, hiccup-ridden stupor until she'd bumped into someone.

That someone had helped her get to an inn room, and stuck around just long enough to make sure she'd started sobering up before they left. She'd always thought it was just some human, but she didn't realize just who she'd run into. "I...uh, yeah. That was me. Sorry about the... Dragonbash thing. I didn't get to thank you for making sure I didn't hurt myself. Or anyone else, for that matter."

He smiled a little bit, waving her thanks aside. "Eh, it was nothing. I couldn't just walk away from someone that out of it. I didn't know you were a Danae sister though."

Sonnya nodded "Now that I think about it, I remember seeing you before that time too. You came to get my little sister after she met me and my other little sister for drinks." Her expression clouded at the memory. "She... wasn't happy. With me I think."

"Little sister?... Do you mean...?"

Event (1+2 x 3) / 4 = Cascade

Tenna was still puzzling over the guardian Watchknights when she heard voices behind her in the hallway. One of them sounded like a very irritated Verula, another Cyrus's voice. Maybe they'd be able to shed some light on what was happening in Cargo Bay 4.

As she approached, she called out. "Hey Cyrus! There's something weird going on."

"Tenna?..." A familiar voice asked tenatively as she approached the cluster of people in the intersection. "Is... Is that you?"

She skidded to a stop, unprepared to hear the sound of her older sibling here, on board. "S-Sonnya? W-what are you..." She took a breath and collected herself. "What are you doing here??" Sonnya reluctantly thumbed at the very patient Watchknight standing beside her, still staring down at her. In response, the Watchknight repeated its directions. "You are expected at Cargo Bay 4. Please come with me."

Tenna shook her head and gaped. That was exactly why she was here. What the hell was going on? She looked at Cyrus, who was obviously trying to puzzle things out. She knew that look on his face; he was trying to fit all the pieces together, and whatever he was thinking, it wasn't something he liked. "Cyrus, what the hell is going on? Cargo Bay 4 is under lock-down and guard apparently on your orders. You and Verula both look like you've been eating lemons, and apparently my sister's been invited on board by someone??"

Cyrus's hand was cupping his chin while he thought, but he idly flexed a few fingers in a dismissive fashion. "Seems to be the jist of it yet. Well, you didn't know about the resource allocation, or the fact that it's been going into that bay as well...apparently under me and Verula's alternating authority."

"What?!"

He sighed, took a deep breath and started walking towards the bay. Already he could see the nine-foot tall guardians watching him carefully. Behind him, he could hear every one following him. The pitter-patter of the Asura's little legs. The heavy clunk of Verula's armored gait. And the calculated tink tink tink of the Watchknight escorting Sonnya.

At the locked bay, he stopped, staring at the guardians for a moment. They stared back, halberds still crossed over the path.

"... Aspect, just what the hell is going on." He called out. "I know you're the one behind all this, now that we've gotten all the pieces. Was it you that invited Miss Sonnya here as well?"

Sonnya looked at him perplexed. "Uh... I wasn't invited by someone named Aspect. I was invited by--"

"I suppose I had better confess." A voice came from a wall mount. The familiar golem-eye extended, looking at everyone. "I knew I couldn't keep it completely secret, but I had hoped for a bit more time before this event. I will just have to work with what I have then."

Cyrus looked at the eye sadly. "Aspect, what have you done?"

The asuran Guardian gaped at the wall unit, recognizing the voice coming from it. "Hey! Wait, that voice! I know that voice! You're the one who invited me! But you called yourself--"

With that, the doors to the bay unlocked with a loud clank and began to trundle open. Both of the guardian Watchknights pulled back from their posts and knelt, heads down, mirroring each other across the passage. A thick fog began to spill from inside as the doors opened; it was warm, like the breath of a hotspring.

As the fog spilled out, it began to thin, and everyone there could make out a figure standing in the doorway. It wasn't a Watchknight, or any other kind of construct. It looked...human.

Stepping out from inside, into the light of the corridor, a slim, pale woman opened her eyes and looked at them all. A small smile touched her lips, and she shrugged slightly.

"You can call me... Alice."

Event (1+2 x 3) / 4  = Null.

I am here. I have no need to hide anymore.

[courtorderedcake]

Roses : A CS retelling of ‘Tam Lin’

Hi, everyone! Thanks to @kmomof4​ and the extremely talented @eastwesthomeisbest​ for their patience on this. As usual, thanks to @ultraluckycatnd​ who I would be lost without, the woman is a monster editing machine, and super beta. I live for my updates from her. Without further ado, here is my laaaaaaaaaaaate contribution to @cssns​. You get TWO chapters for the price of one! WHOA!

Read on Ao3 right here, darlings! Chapter 1/4 Chapter  2/4

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The rain pours for several more days, and Killian lurks indoors anywhere she is not, a ghost in the corners of her eyes. The cable company's arrival makes him bolder, showing the workers the drilled holes in the wood from previous owners, and identifying the ancient telephone cable. 

Laughing, a bewhiskered man clapped him on the back in good nature as he held up the cord. “Haven't used these since 1910! This used a switchboard to even operate, probably used for transmission in the First War. This is a damn antique!” 

Killian laughed with the men doing the installation, but as Emma looked closer, it seemed to be only for show. He followed them asking questions, watching the cables thread through walls, helping where he could. It was not a one day job, which luckily Emma had predicted. 

The next day was even busier, with deliveries arriving, a team looking at the major pipes, electrical repairs and more cable installation making the quiet halls echo with voices. Emma directed what felt like a never ending stream of people carrying various items to rooms, instructed men on how she wanted furniture arranged, and helped identify the structural issues she had noticed, or take note of the ones the contractors had. Carterhaugh stood strong and not many issues were found, although the plumbing and wiring were a mess that would need to be addressed and modernized. 

Around lunch time, Emma took a pop tart out of its sleeve and noticed she hadn't seen Killian all day. Walking to the back solarium and sunroom that looked over the gardens, she watched as he worked. His back muscles rippled under an undershirt, plaid flannel wrapped around his waist. His arms were deeply defined, and she didn't notice how lost in thought she was until he gave a sarcastic little wave. Blushing she gave a half wave back, stuck half the pop tart in her mouth, and quickly went back to ordering people about like some evil queen. 

At the end of the day and after a hefty set of invoices, Emma collapsed in the plush chairs that sat next to the great room's fireplace. Closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, she groaned. 

“Miss Swan? Are you alright?”

Killian’s voice. She nodded with a sigh, opening her eyes. “I… Your phone came today.” Nodding her head at the package that sat on a small table, she closed her eyes again. 

"Oh. Okay." He looked down at the box with a frown. 

"Don't worry, it literally walks you through the set up process. Just turn it on with the button, and follow the instructions." Emma stretched with a groan, letting her joints pop. 

"You got a lot done today, it looks like."

"I did. The teams I chose are phenomenal, but it will be nice to be alone again here soon. I have never had a home, so I would like to enjoy this while I can." 

"No home? You're an orphan, then?" he asked, and she nodded. "Did you live in a foundling home or ministry?"

"No. No. It must be different in America, I don't know what a foundling home is, actually. I lived in an orphanage, then foster homes. My adoptive mother legally got custody of me at 15. I consider her and my brother my only family."

"Ah. A foundling home is for found children, usually abandoned by their parents or orphaned by war, famine or plague."

"Oh, crap, I didn't mean to be insensitive. Those must be rare nowadays, I don't think that there's been any of that sort of thing over here for at least 60 years."

Killian muttered under his breath, laughing bitterly. "Yeah." picking up his phone he gave her a nod, then returned to work. 

After a few more hours, Emma sat aside invoices neatly arranged into piles after double checking everything scanned into the cloud by her phone, and began a small fire in the grate of the ancient fireplace. She went to the kitchen for a glass of wine and some chocolate, surprised to find Killian sitting enraptured by the light of his phone screen. 

"Emma, this device is… It's bloody magic. I have never seen such a small encyclopedia of knowledge. So many flowers and plants have been discovered, animals and places. The pictures are so close up I feel like I'm there -" 

"Calm down, Buster, have you seriously never had internet? You might of well have been Amish."

"What's Amish?" 

"Alright, forget Amish. What's your favorite thing you have learned so far."

"The sky, I've mapped the stars in detail during my time in the Navy, and written about clouds, but there are so many more names, the conditions that create them are all documented, and the stars, we've been in space -" 

"How did you miss Neil Armstrong? One giant step? Do I need to rent 'The Right Stuff'?" 

"When you live here, and you have no one, it's easy not to know anything but this. Thank you Emma. I… I can't say how much this means to me."

"I'm glad you like it. I guess." Emma said shyly back, surprised by the genuine delight in his voice. Shrinking back without her glass of wine, she doused the fire and went to bed instead, her stomach full of butterflies sorely in need of some Raid. 

In the morning, the butterflies became a full force flock when Killian called her name from the conservatory. She waited, stopped and watched his easy jog over to her over the parquet as wingbeats tickled her insides. The rose he held out to her did nothing to help her distress either.

"Would you let me take you for lunch, out on the meadow? It's a perfect day to watch the clouds come in, and you look like you could use a break. I'd like to repay you for the phone. It's been truly… I have not words in which I can express my gratitude fully."

At her hesitation, he backtracked. "If you don't want to, please, it's alright. I'll just go -" 

"No, no. You're right, it's a beautiful day for it. Yes. Yes, let's have lunch. I'll set up some quilts and you can meet me there."

"Cheese sandwiches alright?" 

"As long as there's cocoa."

These lunches become a weekly part of their routine. On the nicest days they find one another wandering the grounds, and in the rain the eat in the kitchen or in the solarium watching rain pour down the glass. There are many nice days, mild breezes carrying the sound of their lively conversations, the weather becoming temperate and fair. He brings tea, cookies, cakes and sandwiches, while Emma brings pop tarts, cocoa or coffee. 

It turns out that his sense of humor is actually amusing, her face and sides hurting from the way he somehow gets her. It's in the late summer, when he places a daisy crown on her head while talking about the constant storm on Jupiter (he's obsessed with learning everything about space and technology lately), and she realizes after that she didn't flinch. It's easy to forget that he hasn't been a fixture in her life forever when he greets her in the morning in the kitchen, or when he gives her a lazy grin with a wave with soil covered hands. 

It's hard to be in the quiet when Killian has recited poetry, or shows her how to tell if a tree is 'wick', and how to take cuttings to grow more of certain bushes that have started to thin. She reciprocated to her own surprise, and tells him about life in the city, about the movies she loves, and about the best apps for his phone. He's great at candy crush, has a following on GreenThumb, and when she lets him on her Spotify he shocks her with a Playlist of roaring twenties, classical, and old swing band songs mixed with the classic rock he has heard her screeching out lyrics into a broom handle. Emma watched him weave magic with plants, feeling aimless and antsy when she went back to work in the house alone. 

Occasionally he joined her, and in those moments it's almost as if he saw the house in its full glory. He knows everything there is to know, except the local legend of the estate. 

"So did the family really just up and disappear? Were they really cursed by Leprechauns?" 

"Fae folk." The grimace he made was tight when he gritted out the words. It was warm, the cliff side by the sea enticing with its cool spray. Both of them had worked long enough to have a break as they stretched across slightly damp stone. Killian licked his lips, looking almost pained. "They probably left before the next war hit. That's my guess. Although, tales of the Fae due run rampant out here. ‘The Fae court will ride their wild stallions across the plain, under the cover of thunder and lightning’. They ran their undying horses too loudly to go without notice otherwise." 

Killian’s face fell, and he looked out pensively towards the estate, his features tensing as a sudden chill nipped at them. "Or teaching wee ones to be kind to strangers without asking for something in return… Fae folk have dominion over anyone who violate their hospitality unless given sincerely. Even then, they're bitter, wicked, twisted creatures with not an ounce of warmth in them. That falls back to 'Never find friend in Fae, or show them favor'." 

"You sound like you believe they're real." Emma said quietly, 

"Do you, Swan?" The question comes out strange, not quite teasing. 

After a moment and a steadying breath, Emma let the truth eke out. "Maybe."

Killian didn't laugh, didn't say anything, really. Emma found that the best reply, her heart beginning to slow again when she confirmed that he's truly not mocking her by glancing up at his darkening eyes. 

"Just who are you, Swan?" This question is worse, worst - it lodged deep as her walls snapped back up around her. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." If he noticed the iciness in her glare, he didn't say. 

Instead he called after her as Emma made her way back inside, a sudden cold rain pouring down. "Perhaps I would." 

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Emma lets the days go by leisurely as Killian and her spend more time with each other. They eventually start sharing books, movies, excerpts from history (He loves the Today I learned section of reddit, learning things in leagues) and music. Her selections of rock and classic punk pop seem to genuinely bewitch him - on several occasions she's gone out to the garden to find him smeared with dirt, shirtless, gloves in his back jeans pocket shaking along with his - assets - while 'Welcome to the Jungle' blared from the sound system. 

The beginning of want pooled in a well Emma thought had long gone dry, her blush a strawberry stain across her face and chest. Not that Killian knew, or if he did, hid it under his normal self-deprecating cheekiness by teasing her as much as normal. Emma had thoughts at night after a glass of wine that left her feeling like a breathless high schooler who found a note in their locker, except she wasn't a high school student. She hadn't been in far too long for this sort of crush. 

Even in the mornings when she tried to beat him outside, he's there. Sometimes just sitting and talking to the plants or pruning, and it's like he's a fixture in her garden. A fixture that notices her arrival or sneaks behind her with a branch to tickle her ear, smiles at her, beams at her really, in a way that makes her heart sing. It's as if he's gently tending to her too, like he knows how hard it has been to lay down roots anywhere since Neal burned away everything she had hoped for a home. 

Killian just grows on her, and she feels like the sun has warmed her enough to tentatively take a chance, to bloom. 

And she likes it. It scares her more than anything. She likes that he wants to cultivate a friendship, that he is just happy to be near her for whatever reason, and that she can find comfort in his stability. He has set roots, deep into the earth that for so long she has resisted against letting her feet touch. 

Maybe Emma Swan was finally tired of flying, and could try falling, just this once, knowing that a safe harbor might lend itself to her landing. 

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Emma read the faded ink on dark and crumbling paper, careful to slide it into a protective plastic sleeve. The attic had proven to be a massive undertaking, just like every other aspect of Carterhaugh. She originally planned to do just documents by herself, but Killian had found her and demanded to help, proving to be just as stubborn as her. He also demanded that they wait on the furniture and strange chests in the dusty gloom, warning her that he was not risking her falling through the floor or down a ladder. 

"I quite fancy you, when you aren't yelling at me." He smirked, and butterflies erupted in her chest. If only. 

The Lord of Carterhaugh had found the Fae portal, and made his way through the shadows to the seat of a great golden throne. He'd changed, heard the whisper of a devil or some dark voice that crawled into his veins, his name the first to go. Rumplestiltskin. 

And Rumplestiltskin knew things, things he shouldn't have, and couldn't have. Things to sweeten a deal already suspiciously too good to be true. His wife, the lady of the house, did not love him. He tried many times to use his new found shadows to gain her heart, but they had limits. He tried stranger and more powerful beings in the woods until they fled as far as they could. Nothing worked until he threatened to take their child into the dark without her. She begged him to compromise, and they would split time with their child between their worlds. 

For a time, it was good. Rumplestiltskin twisted into something strange, The lady stayed near the same, and no one could tell which way their son might go. 

She joined them when her son finally decided to rule beside his Father. It was short-lived, an argument breaking out between the three as they chose whether they would abandon their old home of Carterhaugh to a great war that had begun. The Lady and her son returned, not a day older than when they left, blessing the land so no Fae could cross - as long as a rightful owner held the key. 

No one noticed their return, thinking of only the war that held the world in turmoil or that they were distant relatives. When the war ended, no one remembered they had been there far too long. 

Especially a soldier trying to return home on foot, lost, hurt, and sick. 

The paper was ornate, script flowery and bordered with roses like the ones in her gardens. Emma slid it into a sleeve like the rest. When Killian emerged from the attic with cobwebs in his dark hair, Emma carefully pulled the dust and spider webs away as he huffed in annoyance. Carrying boxes of dust covered books, photo albums, old documents, journals where the ink has bled into the pages making them unintelligible, ledgers and sketches. 

Emma was quick to pull out as much as she could, not noticing Killian’s change in posture or how he frowned as he placed albums aside to ‘sort through later’.

Opening a dark leather bound album, she flipped through the pages, as Killian froze behind her, flinching with every turn of the page. 

"Look at all the staff here. This place used to run 30 people deep, can you imagine? I'd go crazy trying to organize all that. I guess your family has been doing this for years though."

"My family?" Killian looked confused for a moment before shaking it off. "Oh, yes. We've uh, one of us has always been here." he smiled weakly, and Emma felt an odd twinge in her gut. 

"This guy even looks a little like you!" Emma laughed, and Killian frowned deeply, looking over the photo. 

"Yeah. He could practically be me." He said in a dry tone, chuckling darkly. Emma felt that sour stone turn in her stomach, and this time she knew there was something behind the offput smile he gave her, more firmly planted than genuine; it took the air completely out of the room. In a sharp and impossibly fast movement, he slammed the book shut with a look of pure frustration, as Emma made a startled noise. 

"Killian, what -" 

"I'm going to put some of these to the other room. They're later in the period and it will be easier to start at the beginning." Putting the book away, he carried off several to stack in a corner. 

"Alright." She gave him a wary glance, but opened up another old book. Several families in Victorian era clothing played croquet on a small lawn, the surrounding forest held back by large stone walls. "Oh, look at those!" Emma exclaimed, fingers pressed to the page. A gargoyle of a vaguely human creature stood at the corners of each side. Killian sat again, leaning over to look, his presence so close. His shoulder fell slightly against hers. She moved slightly away, just enough to feel the warmth of his body but to where he had no weight against her. 

"Fae folk," Killian whispered quietly, finger pointing. 

"Well. You weren't kidding when you said people here thought less of them than you!" Emma laughed merrily, moving to another album, not noticing Killian’s fingers tracing the large iron spikes that topped the heavy stones. "I guess most people think they're hideous creatures, but I think -" 

"There's many, many things in this world. Fae folk happen to be one that, at least here, are known to be dangerous. It's why in lore, you never make deals or supper with strangers on the road, or you count the teeth and fingers of someone who offers you hospitality. Nothing in life comes without a price, and these woods are proof of it. They should have never taken that wall down."

"I agree, it's aesthetically pleasing for sure -" 

"Promise me something, love?" 

"Uh." Emma looked at him, his jaw clenched as he stared at the photo. "Maybe, it depends -" 

"Put that wall back up, please. I'll help whoever lays it brick by bloody brick, but put that wall back up." 

"Um. Okay, I will."

"Promise me." His eyes were icy blue as they snapped to stare at her, cold and without any of their normal glimmer of snark. Emma nodded, and he looked back at the photo, tracing the lines of the rock again. 

"I promise."

"Thank you, Emma." He sighed, relaxing slightly. Pushing herself against her hatred of touch Emma reached for him. She laid her hand in his, tracing her thumb over his knuckles, and the ghost of a smile returned. 

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If there was any advantage of having Killian on the premises of Carterhaugh, it was the cooking. Emma was beyond convinced that the man is the next Gordon Ramsey, showing him videos of the chef's famous temper that made his ears go pink. 

"He shouldn't talk to women like that." Killian mumbled, after a particularly bad roasting involving an 'idiot sandwich'. 

Emma frowned. "It's something they know going in. They're being respected for their talent, not their gender, or being a woman. They take it just like these men, sometimes - well no, usually, actually - better."

"Women do reserve respect, and to be treated better than this. I don't like this garbage can television you like, Swan."

"Trash TV."

"Semantics."

"Fine, and I guess you would order your kitchen around respectfully?" Emma asked amused. Killian gave a firm nod, washing berries in the sink as Emma sat on the counter top. "Oh captain, my captain! What do you know about bossing around a crew?" 

"I was a Captain, Swan. In the Navy. Ranked up after my brother. I'd never speak to my crew like this, and I never did." There was a flat sadness in his tone, and the water ran for a long minute into the sieve that lay in the sink with neither of them moving.

"I didn't - I -" 

"I'm thinking pie for this. Have you ever made one?" Killian asked, normalcy returned shakily as he turned off the tap. He flicked water at her with his fingers and she yelped, laughing. 

"No. We didn't make pie a whole lot in our foster home." Emma shuddered. "We didn't eat a lot in general, in quite a few of them, really. I guess Neal did get us a pie once when we went out to dinner if you could call it that. He liked artsy food. It was this crazy mushroom tart thing, with all these circular layers. I just wanted - "

"A poptart?" Killian smirked at her, already rolling out dough with small gestures of his wrist on the other side of the sink opposite her. Emma shook off a momentary feeling of hypnotic awe, his movement quick, well practiced and precise mastery, like he had done this forever. 

"Actually, I remember wanting of all things, a bologna sandwich."

Killian made a retching noise. "Awful stuff, that. Came out in '57 and they're still using the same cans if it. That and gelatin becoming en vogue is beyond perplexing, and then there were aspics which are a devil's concoction if I've ever seen one. I know bad food Swan, I'm British and was in the navy. Trust me when I say you're better off."

"You like mackerel and pickled herring." Emma giggled. 

He looked affronted, giving a faux dramatic gasp. "Well yes, but not gelled, I'm not a savage. I barely put more than 3 tablespoons of vinegar on my food. I'm a purist by my country's standards."

Wrinkling her nose she made a gagging noise, "Gross. Thanks for ruining that for me." He smirked at her unapologetically. 

"Hey, before I forget," Emma held up a finger and hopped down off the counter top. Heading to the pantry area, she flicked on the light and pulled down a basket of several apples, bringing them to the counter. Killian continued working methodically, without looking up. "Think we have enough to make a pie out of these?" 

She reached down to pull one out, the red skin reflecting her hand like a lacquered surface, but Killian grabbed her wrist roughly. There was a sudden edge to him that made his demeanor feel strange, darker even. 

"Where did you get these?" He asked with a hiss. Her eyes widened, and she pulled away briskly. 

"The bottom of the hill, where the forest path begins. I hadn't noticed before since we don't walk down that way a lot, but there's an apple tree there -" 

"Do not - Never pick those. These apples," he gruffly made a noise between an exasperated sigh and a growl. "These are poisonous. It's leeched into the soil there. Something to do with that New Claire energy. Poison nastiness. Hives of biting, crawling, flying, pests that rot everything they touch. Chemicals."

"Nuclear? Insects? What -" 

"Look, just - Never these. Never eat anything from down that hill. Unless it's grown up here, do not eat it."

With flour covered hands he grabbed the basket and stormed out side, throwing the whole thing down the hill, and heading to the back garden. Emma stood open mouthed for a minute, looking around confused. When Killian stormed down the hill from the back garden as a shadowy silhouette in the late afternoon sun with an axe, she slipped on shoes to run after him. By the time she was out the door she could here the swings of the axe in wood. The tree fell as she reached the crest, sliding slightly down the slope. 

As soon as the tree hit the ground, the leaves changed to a duller color, and as she came to the even patch of ground, an apple rolled to touch her boot. It was decaying, the lacquered red surface giving way to black beetles and crawling centipedes that fled there safety. Killian panted slightly, before throwing the axe over his shoulder and stalking back toward Carterhaugh. 

"What - It wasn't like that when I -" 

"Soil is bad, like I said. Just - just don't come down here. It's not safe. There's things left over from the wars, and old wells, mine shafts - there's a reason why all this land is untouched. No one wants it."

"You mean like, fairy circles, those types of old wells?" Emma called after him as he froze, kicking a blackened apple down the hill but away from her path. 

Killian tensed, rigid and darkly shadowed by the setting sun. For a moment Emma thought he might yell at her, his stature wound so tight to the point of snapping, and face furious. He took a breath, and let it melt off him, composing himself as Emma watched in confusion. 

Mumbling a curse under his breath he walked towards her and in a quiet tone drawled out an emotionless phrase, "Yes. Like those." 

They walked back to the kitchen, but Emma felt herself come loose from the strangeness of the black beetles, so much like little black teeth or shiny black tacks, centipedes crawling, circling each other - 

Neal loves circles, it's always circles in his art and designs. When Emma first meets him, he is tagging circles on a building, spraying thick lines of black and white that he covers in red to make a ring of what looks like mushrooms. Tucked away, she was fascinated by his fluid movements with the can until he chuckled lowly, turning to stare directly at her with eyes that are brown but somehow glow with tawny humor. 

"Well well well." His voice is a whisper, but Emma can hear it all around her, echoing through the concrete, crumbling brick, and metal of the alleyway. "A lost boy has found a lost girl."

It doesn't make sense that he is so wise and young at the same time, but he calls her an old soul, which Emma delights in, especially on his arm in the backroom of a party or club. She is mature for her age, he tells her, nuzzling his nose in her hair. When he waves her past people, he always knows people and they seem to want to please him, his voice is like caramel. 

"She's with me. Ems is cool." 

It's astounding to her. He has nothing but everything, taking what is and isn't offered with no consequences. 

"It's magic, Ems. People will give whatever I ask, because they know better than to ever say no." Holding her tightly, he rubs her arms and her stiffness melts away on whispered words of how happy he is with her. How glad he is to have someone who understands, the only person who gets him, the only person that makes him want to live. 

When he asks, Emma does not say no. He is as important to her as she is to him. It does not matter that they've been together a few months, she echoes, they feel as though they have been together for years. It doesn't matter that she does not know what he does to make so much money, to buy her the nicest things even though she does not ask, he holds her hand as they grocery shop. 

It does not matter that he asks again and again, more aggressively each time, and when she says no she learns better than to ever deny him again. 

They are in love, Neal her first and only love in a long line of loss, the only person who has her full trust after years of betrayal. They are in love, and he holds her heart. It was only once, then twice, then more - but he's doing it for her own good, just correcting her behavior. He always tells her after how sorry he is, and how much he loves her. That he never wants her to hurt again, no more excuses about clumsiness or stealing makeup to cover evidence that fades from purple to yellow. No more late night visits to his doctor, the one across town who won't ask questions about her broken wrist or swollen jaw. 

He cares about her enough to make her better. To make her listen and love him the way he needs to be loved; the consequences be damned, because those moments of rage are so fleetingly brief, that it does not matter. 

 It does matter a little when his time is spent on more trips alone, on business deals that she cannot accompany him to. It does matter when she finds dark plum lipstick on his collar, and it does matter when he storms out when she questions his fidelity. 

It does matter when he returns, a silver circle lying in a plush casing, the proposal tainted by his ultimatum :

"Marry me, Ems. Marry me, or lose everything." He asks, and Emma does not say no, there's no way out of this, he's encircled her - 

FWOOOM. 

Her thoughts are broken by the sound of - something. It's a noise Emma has never heard, followed by Killian’s yelp of panic. He's thrown himself back on the floor away from the old oven when she skids to a stop on her socks to fall into him, his face soot covered and hair slightly charred on the edges. 

"Are you alright?" Emma chokes out, but he hits her with a look of absolute frustration that goes so well with the black covering his face and the ember still slightly orange on his eyebrow she brushes away even as it burns her, and it takes seconds for her to dissolve into peals of laughter that make him look even more put out. "Oh, Killian -" 

"Don't even start, Swan."

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Killian became a close confidante, the only person Emma had known that she could spend time with just in their presence, enjoying every moment. His presence soothed unlike so many that grated on her, and their routines twisted together until they were inseparable for vast portions of the day. 

As it became nicer, they walked the property together and he showed her every plant, bird, animal and bug his work helped cultivate, as if he was completely responsible for the life that flooded where the forest did not touch. Emma could believe he was without trying, especially when fireflies danced around them and lit ginger glints in his hair or cast green and grey specks in his irises. 

They sat by the now working fountains listening to mourning doves, or out on the gazebo that looked down the hill towards the wood, and he listened or hummed quietly while they read. There was a sense of calm that came with him that made her feel enveloped in safety. She could just be, and just being meant she could be vulnerable. 

"My husband - it's complicated. I just, he was the love of my life and he let me down. No. He did more than that, he - I - I fell so far into myself I thought I would never escape and I can't let someone do that to me again. He was an awful person who was awfully good at pretending he wasn't."

"You don't have to say more, love."

"What about you? A good looking guy like you probably has -" 

"You think I'm good looking Swan?" 

Emma blushed, fiddling with the flower crown in her hands. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

"I do?" He asked, more amused. "I suppose a dashing rapscallion like m'self -" 

Emma groaned, and they both laughed. She smiled at the crown, twisting away a stray petal here and there. Killian broke the silence in a thoughtful voice. 

"The love of my life let me down too, so we're quite the pair, you and I."

Emma caught his quick glance in her direction, and the way his face changed from a smile, to carefully polished facade. Walls to never show the world any vulnerability, unsaid things piled up so high on the ramparts, and armor to protect from being hurt again. 

"Milah. She was beautiful, smart, so zealous about life and the beauty of everything. She loved flowers, and I was good with them. She said that I was magic with them." Killian sounded wistful, and began to scrub at the back of his neck, talking rapidly, as if he was nervous. 

 "She was married but so unhappy, her husband had left her to care for their home while he… while he cared for his business elsewhere. It put their son in a difficult position due to it. He was expected to be two places at once, being educated in both worlds. It left Milah alone a lot of the time, and I welcomed her company. We fell in love against better judgment, she was a woman that wanted for nothing and took what she liked - I was something she liked. I don't know if I ever had a choice, really. At first it was wonderful, and everything was perfect. I feared her husband finding out, as he was very powerful in the, er, business world. Surprisingly, I discovered he didn't care. He called me her pet. I hated that, but I wanted her to be happy." He paused, shuddering, and looked over his shoulder. A harsh wind blew from up the forest, and although it had been a warm day, it smelled cloyingly of wet earth. 

"She convinced me to run away with her, to join her husband and son in their business. Life had gotten harder and there were other forces at work outside of us, our country involved in a war. She was afraid. I followed her, because I was so in love, I'd follow her anywhere. It was subtle, her mannerisms changed and became more sharp, and we - well, our love changed drastically. She began to enjoy hurting me, and I at first thought that I enjoyed it, just trying to please, but she became worse as if she was trying to break me, bringing others in to torture me. Mind games and intrigues amongst…" His cheeks pinked. "Other things." 

"You don't have to tell me this. If you don't want to, if you're not - you don't owe me -" Emma looked away, and he laughed ruefully. She looked back and he was shaking his head with his jaw set. 

"I know I don't owe - you're the first person I've talked to about any of this." He sighed, and she picked at her fingernails. "If you don't want to -" 

"No. It's okay. I…" Emma bit her lip. "Go on."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "Her husband and a long line of others degraded me, tormented me, pulled me apart without care and made me wish I had never been born. Where in the beginning Milah at least provided a soothing touch after, she began to leave me alone to watch me suffer, or ignore my pleas to stop. I have never felt so helpless."

"Killian, I -" 

"So I know the feeling of shame, I understand not wanting to be touched, I have boundaries from my escape and extricating from Milah's grip. Leaving her was like…" he laughed again, sad and without any humor. "Banishment. I was left absolutely alone, her son had been my close friend, and I had others that I was close with in their business."

Standing, he brushed off his pant legs and looked out at the sky. Emma stood slowly, chewing her lip to the point of pain before making her decision. 

Carefully, Emma tucked her hand into his, his fingers intertwining with her own as they walked in silence. They made occasional light conversation, laughing together, and an easy feeling of belonging came over her so strongly. His thumb traced her own, while his smile traced a path through every barrier and straight to her heart. 

Returning to the house Killian made a chicken and rice dish that was phenomenal as usual, and over wine Emma teased him about his absolute refusal to consider adding a chicken coop to the property. 

"They're nasty birds, Swan."

"They eat pests, and they would have so much room. I think it would be nice." 

"Just because you and they are kin, doesn't mean I want to care for them, Swan."

"Are you… Ch- Ch- Chicken?" Emma smiled at him with uninhibited glee. 

"You are absolutely ridiculous."

"You love me for it." Emma stabbed a bite and grinned as she chewed, oblivious to the look of longing that came over him. 

"That I do."

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

When Emma opened the door for vulnerability in her life, the breeze that came through pushed every idea of a wall out of the relationship she and Killian had built, their likes and dislikes melding and the strangeness of their lives being alike turning into long stories over spiked cocoa in half finished rooms. 

Killian was an orphan, the same caged look in his eye when asked about family. His brother was gone, but both their siblings had fought constantly for a better life for the younger. 

Where Emma didn't know her parents, Killian remembered his mother and his drunken father, and they commiserated on which was worse. In the end, it came down to loss and abandonment laying a heavy hand on both of their existences in a way that made Emma see Killian in a different light all together. There was a softness that met the same jagged edge of wildness, the raw and crooked pieces that came together in a clash just like hers. There were scars, mental and physical, that she recognized easily now, and that changed the way they interacted. 

Emma had always felt like she was walking the thinnest invisible line, unsure what was above or below or ahead, but in Killian’s presence she felt someone's hand in her own. Emma hoped he felt the same balance, and the same surety she did. 

Fear was there too, and it came in the night when she examined the synchronicity that she wanted to cling to like a preserver. 

If Neal hadn't ruined her, if she wasn't just slightly more broken and absolutely undesirable, Killian would be everything Neal wasn't. 

Her wedding is beautiful, but strange in its own right, a ceremony that is a blur of unfamiliar faces, drinking, food, and meeting who Neal demands her to meet. It feels strange, as if there is something wrong with everything, a piece that is missing among the wreckage, but she cannot grasp it. 

Neal is forceful when he introduces a few guests, but Emma is the sun, shining on this day and not noticing the sideways looks people shared. The women are striking, Emma unsure of how they know Neal, and unable to ask for fear of her tangled tongue. 

There's so much spinning and dancing, his voice low and sweet, warming her and tracing her nerves with fuzziness. Her friends are there too, and they are happy, so happy as they drink and dance and feast. David is there only briefly, the only one ever disgusted by Neal, but her old roommate from college, Ruby, makes it. They share a silly dance that makes Ruby's bracelets jingle while Neal talks to his friends, so many friends she has never seen. There's so much money in this place, so much she did not plan or choose, ostentatious in your face gaudy things that Neal has chosen for her. Neal will choose for her, because he knows best, and she is in his ring, twirling in a gown that glitters with crystals. 

Neal dances with Ruby, and she is charmed immediately. There are other people he dances with that Emma invited, the cake shop owner down the street Tiana, a woman from an sculpting course, Ariel, and their upstairs neighbor, Tamara. Each seem to join her new husband and come away with a blushing grin, the wine strong. 

They go to bed and it's not as much as making love, but it isn't as little as just fucking or consummation - there's a frenzied edge that makes her toes curl but scares her. When she wakes up, her body is bruised and bite marks line her skin, dark blossoms that feel tender. He's gone, left a note for her on their honeymoon that something has come up back home. The tears come easily, but the call to the concierge is rough. Neal had left her money to do whatever it is someone does alone on their honeymoon in the Caribbean, and she laughs as the clerk judges her while handing her the bag. 

The first two days of Plan B she can't drink, and it takes everything to follow through with that, watching Back to the Future 1 - 4 in the pool while gorging on onion rings. The third day is spent drunk and crying over a grilled cheese, then more onion rings. 

Getting home, she finds Neal in their living room, and he surveys her calmly like one might do an over tired child. It hurts her, the coldness in his eyes. He sighs tracing a circle around the rim of a whisky tumbler. 

"You've gained weight."

Emma laughs angrily and unbelieving, but it's cut short as the circles on his glass continue faster and faster around, until she fades into a smile, gently saying, 

"Sorry, Neal, I'll do better."

He smiles, putting down the glass to his side. 

"Good girl. Now come here, I missed you."

Emma walks over and straddles him - surprised how wrong it feels but how right it feels to please him. She does want to make him happy, doesn't she? To repay his good will and good fortune? Or is she an ungrateful girl that can still be left if she displeases, abandonment or adoration the choice is hers - which is it, which is it, which is it - and their kisses turn into something more as he turns out the light in their bedroom. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Malcolm of Malcolm's restoration services was the first person Emma had found anywhere remotely close that was able to properly authenticate the rare safe she found hidden in one of the walls. In the old Master's study, Emma had found a loose panel, and had assumed it to be another thing to fix. Finding the safe, and then Googling the safe to see if could be broken into easily led Emma to discover that not only could it not - it might spray some sort of gas all over.

She called the man and he answered first ring, and she booked him to drive the hour to Carterhaugh. He was entirely unpleasant on the phone, but Emma thought that might be due to the surprise drive to the middle of nowhere. 

He was wholly, entirely, and awfully beyond unpleasant in person. 

Malcolm had shown up reeking of alcohol, his boots caked in mud that he'd tracked over the newly restored entryway, and had only been eager to get the safe out of the wall - and into his truck. 

"Ya'dunno what's innit, so I'll charge ye a bit t'take it off yer hands. Be needing special tools anyway, which I only have at m'shop. Most safes are empty, but you'll know yet home is safe from t'gas at least." 

"I'm sorry Mr. Malcolm, but no. I wish you didn't have to come all the way out here but I'll pay you -" 

"Fine, fine, I'll open it here, I'll just…" He pulled a hammer out of his pocket, and Emma stopped him again. 

"I would just really prefer if you don't? I read about these and I really don't want to risk it, when you say you need specific tools from your shop. If it's most likely empty I'll leave it for another day, and drive out there with you."

Malcolm smiled, greasily, lowering the hammer to his side. He nodded and turned to have Emma follow him towards the entry hall. 

"Sounds good miss. It must be tough out here all alone by yourself."

Emma answered before she could think better of it. "Oh no, I'm used to being on my own really, and -" 

The crack of the hammer missed her by such a small margin, she felt the breeze hit her forehead. It stuck in the wall as she threw herself back instinctively and stupidly, scrambling as Malcolm pulled the hammer free and swung again. 

"Killian! Killian, fuck! Help!" She screamed down the hall towards the solarium, narrowly avoiding getting hit again as Malcolm swung wildly. 

"You bitch, I thought you were alone up here!" The lunatic hissed, and Emma heard the sound of running steps as Killian yelled after her. 

"Emma, if you've fallen again, I swear -" Killian took a look at Malcolm with his hammer raised above her, and became instantly enraged, running full speed at Malcolm with a roar of anger. The older man threw the hammer at him hitting Killian in the chest, scrambling to throw an entry table and chaise in Killian’s path as they ran for the door. 

Emma heard the squealing of tires and shouts, unable to move from her sprawled defensive position on the floor. Killian came back in like a blur, and before Emma could find the air to ask him to call the police or if he was alright, he had wrapped his arms around her holding her head as she burst into tears. 

"You're alright. Emma, I've got you. You're alright, love. What - Who was that? Did he hurt you? I would have been faster, I thought - I'm such an idiot I thought, and you could have been - Emma, please tell me you're alright because if he hurt you, I swear I will hunt the bastard down and stuff him." Emma wrapped her arms around him, tightly gripping him and crying inconsolably. Her shoulders shook, and he only whispered soothingly, only pulling away to lock the doors. 

Emma called the police, recounting what happened to Killian and the department as they asked questions, Killian pacing by the time they thanked her for her statement. 

"We'll keep an eye out for him Miss Swan, and if he should turn up again, give us a ring."

"What do you mean give us a ring, she could have bloody well died! Send someone after him -" 

"Miss Swan, who is this?" The officer asked. 

"Oh, he's - he's my roommate and helps with restoration. Jones."

The officer made a loud sigh. "Seainns? There's another of you?" 

"No, Jones. Only the one." Killian gritted out. 

"Alright Mr. Jones, well, we can't just arrest someone, as although they did damage, we don't know where they may be, and we are a small town with limited resources. We'll have someone in a car sit at the bottom of the drive until morning." 

"Thanks." Emma mumbled. The sound of a click was followed by Killian’s shouts. 

"Bloody useless! We'd have caught him on foot, and dragged him through town by his arms -" 

"Hey, Killian?" Emma whispered, and he stopped pacing to look at her. "Will you stay with me tonight? Please?" 

His eyes widened, and he moved toward her, although she shrunk back. "Oh, Emma -" 

"I just don't want to be alone tonight." She mumbled, voice cracking. Unable to look at him, she felt him gather her hands, squeezing gently. When she yanked away he froze, then moved slightly away from her. Emma regretted it instantly. 

"Of course, love. Your room?" 

Emma nodded. She let him lead her up the stairs, stopping by his room to grab a few things, before he sat on the edge of her bed. He laid his pillow on the floor, but she grabbed his arm as he set about laying blankets there as well. 

"No. If you don't want to I understand, but… Please, I want you close, I don't want to wake up and think I'm alone."

"Are you sure, Swan?" He asked, and she nodded. 

Crawling into bed with her as she snuggled into him and let herself cry, he held her tightly. 

"I promise Emma, I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today -" 

"You were." Emma whispered. "You are."

"I won't let harm befall you, in any way I can prevent. I promise."

He held her close, alert for any sounds as she fell asleep. 

For the first time in years, she woke with no recollect of nightmares, fully rested, warm and safe. Tracing the scar on his cheek as he slept, the morning light hit his eyelashes and hair revealing auburn glints. They fluttered, and his eyes crinkled at their edges, blue and glints of gold. 

"You stayed."

"I told you I wouldn't leave, love. You're safe."

Emma felt words pour out of her, his quiet listening while resting his hands gently in platonic embrace cathartic as she told him everything. Abandonment after abandonment, unending and unrelenting betrayals of trust that she explained as he comforted in the ways he could. 

"I know you think that you have to be strong, and I know you think that you can't trust or lean on others. I will do everything that I can to prove myself to you, to prove that you deserve more."

"Why?" Emma asked, more plea than question. 

Killian hesitated. Finally he swallowed hard. "It's what friends do."

Emma laughed softly, letting out a hum of contentment when she fell asleep again. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Mary Margaret and David visit once Emma has restored a suite she found suitable for them, her standards on the first place she would invite her adoptive brother ridiculously high. He had been absolutely hell bent on seeing the place, but had finally had enough when Emma had mentioned Killian more times than what was most likely normal for a staff member of the manor. 

"I have tickets booked for Christmas. We're coming." He announced on their Skype call. Emma blanched, choking on her wine. 

"Christmas?" she squeaked. "But that would mean presents and food, and we -" 

Mary Margaret spoke calmly from just off camera. "We will get groceries in London for the week we're there, and ship the gifts straight to your house wrapped. Hell, I'll even buy Christmas crackers. All you need to do is open the doors, put up some semblance of a tree, and have somewhere we can sleep." 

"But -" 

"Emma. Mary lived with me and my ogre frat brothers on campus for two years. As long as there are no crusted socks on door handles, your place will be as immaculate as the Vatican. We're coming."

Emma tried to argue but couldn't get past either of them, finally conceding when Mary Margaret pointed out that Emma kept saying we when it came to her arguments. 

"Did you meet someone? Is there a we now? Tell the gardener to bring a date, I follow him on that GreenThumb app - I want to meet him!" 

In her Skype account's chat box, Emma saw her face go red. "No," she snapped, unsure why the thought irritated her. The interrogation probably, that sneaky, bird whispering, cookie pusher of a sister and law. "No, no one for me, but I'm sure Killian will be around. He told me he purchased an ugly sweater for himself."

Emma took a swig of wine while her brother made an irritated noise. 

"He's telling you what he's wearing? Emma, is he gay?" Emma flooded her lungs in cabernet, coughing and spraying her laptop screen. "If he is, we know a nice man and can set them up - That Jefferson fellow, the artist at our old complex."

David laughed, both of them not paying attention to Emma hacking and scrubbing at her laptop with her robe. "Oh yeah! The artist that kept getting high and painting rabbits. He had that exhibit he invited us to, what was it called - with all the penises that were 'mushrooms'?" 

"'Wünder.' it was called I think." Mary Margaret smacked him on the shoulder from off screen. "I remember because you said it should not have been called that in allusion to Wonderland when it attracted that blonde doctor, and more than a few bears."

"That's right!" David snapped his fingers, smirking at Emma from through the screen. 

Now half choking and laughing, Emma gave a hoarse, "Fuck you both." 

David smiled sweetly, and replied, "See you at Christmas, sis."

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Mistake number one is completely Killian’s fault. 

They have to get a tree, and not just any tree, a fifteen foot goddamn tree that goes in a specific place in the den, where it will lord over them like the undeserving peasants they are. Or, that's what Emma feels about the whole thing. Killian has precariously climbed up one of the big ladders with a long measuring tape to painstakingly make sure the dimensions of the tree are that of some sort of branch trunk ratio, muttering about 'gardener stuff' she wouldn't understand. 

"We literally could just get a fake tree. I have one, I brought it, it's 5 feet and prelit -" 

"Your brother is coming here, and you have never done Christmas in a real home. I want your first Christmas here to be…" Killian made a gesture and finally scratched behind his ear, and blushed. "I want you to feel at home."

"Oh." Emma blinked. "Okay…? But the thing is, Killian, I don't need a giant ass needle machine to make this place feel at home, my Christmas activities are usually Chinese food and whatever booze is on discount at the local drug store."

"Why are there stores for just drugs in America? You bloody people -" 

"Do not change the subject, using my patriotism is not going to work on me this time."

"Fine. Fine! I'll get the tree up and all you need to get are the decorations."

"Fine. I ordered them with all the gifts, they'll arrive in three days. Please get the tree by then, and no shame if it's not that big, seriously. David and Two Ems will be here the day before."

Climbing down the ladder, he shut the measuring tape with a nod. "Then that's the day it will be here. That way we can all decorate it. I'll pull out my gifts when you lot put yours out." 

Emma widened her eyes. "Oh, you didn't have to - I didn't know if you wanted to do that with us -" 

Killian looked slightly defeated, and then embarrassed. "Oh. If I'm imposing… If no one got me -" 

"I mean I did, but -" 

His smile relit, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "That's all that matters. I'll get the tree, Swan."

David and Mary Margaret arrived, and the first hour was spent with Two Ems giggling and clapping her hands at the literal fairy tale property she's on, as David's jaw stays open. 

"So, once I knew that you were coming up, I designed your suite. It's called the songbird suite, and I modeled it after both of you." Emma smiled shyly. Mary Margaret tackled her with a hug, and Emma laughed delightedly. 

David approached the room and it's stained glass door and carved wood door, it's facade made to look like a tree dripping leaves that went from green to yellow and then red and brown. Turning the French handle that was made to look like a copper branch, they stepped inside. The room was wall to wall a mural of a verdant forest, the plaster inlay textured to give the illusion of dimension. A hearth of rustic wood burned merrily near the bathroom archway where a river stone bath and shower peeked out. Through the bathroom and past a rock cut double vanity lay a door out into a small garden courtyard, while past the tub a closet sprawled out with a booth for make up. 

"Why is it the songbird room?" Mary Margaret asked. 

Emma simply pointed up. 

On the ceiling Killian has painted all the song birds that lived in their gardens, each one in detail and vivid coloring. He had draped plants in old bird cages they had found in the attic, growing the long vines to hang from the ceiling with flickering tea lights. 

David walked to Emma, and smiled happily. "Can I hug you, Emma?" He asked quietly. She gave a simple nod, and he delicately embraced her, whispering in her ear so that Mary Margaret couldn't hear.

"You totally got me laid tonight, so thanks for that."

Emma burst out laughing, pushing him away while yelling how gross that was, and he started laughing too. Mary Margaret looked confused but hugged Emma again as she tried to breathe. 

"I'm glad you like it Two Ems."

"It's perfect Em singular."

Just after that moment, Killian called from the hall. 

"Can I draw your attention to the Den, Family Swan." Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow, but Emma shrugged pushing past to the hallway and into the den. Killian stood next to a massive tree, its branches held by thick red twine. He held a pair of scissors in his hands. Emma simply held her mouth open in shock along with Mary Margaret, the enormity of the massive pine overwhelming. She didn't notice David's pointed glare at Killian. "Madame Swan, M'lady Mary Margaret, and… Er. Dave."

David cracked his knuckles as his hand balled into a fist, with a grunt. Emma was too busy trying to figure out the scale of the tree to acknowledge him. 

"I give you, our Christmas tree." Killian gave a bow, and with a quick flourish, cut the twine. The tree sprung open, boughs decorated in soft lights, glitter, some manner of tinsel, and long strings of ribbons, popcorn and cranberries. "All that's left is the star, and ornaments."

"Killian, wow, I -" Emma covered her mouth, trying not to let tears prick her eyes. She walked half dazed, not taking her eyes off the tree as she came to his side. "It's more than I -" 

"So you like it?" He asked quietly. 

"I love it, you've - I don't even know -" 

He looked concerned, and gently swiped at her eyes. "Love don't cry, it's alright," Hugging her, she laughed. 

"It's just so pretty, I never imagined having anything like this. Never in my life, I just… Thank you. Thank you so much, thank you."

Killian laughed, giving her a spin as she let out a joyful shriek. 

Emma didn't notice David's tension, or the excited tug Mary Margaret gave on his sleeve that went unnoticed as he glared.

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

The second mistake comes in the form of Dinner the next day. David had excused himself after decorating the tree, citing exhaustion. Mary Margaret had gone with him and they retired early. Their gifts had been delivered the next day, beautifully propped against the decorated tree, while a team of couriers helped unload the ridiculous amount of food Mary Margaret had ordered. 

"So, I am making the pies and cookies, the casserole, and the mashed potatoes. I figure that you," Mary Margaret pointed a bright red spatula at Killian who grinned in delight, "Can do the bird, vegetables, and that rice dish Emma raves about over Skype -" 

"I do not rave about it over Skype -" Emma moaned, covering her face. Her stomach gurgled loudly, Mary Margaret and Killian laughing while David glowered. 

"And David will do the ham, the lamb, and the holy roast." Mary Margaret laughed, Killian joining in. Emma gave David a bright smile that he did not return, not noticing, animatedly talking to Killian while he cut vegetables, popping cherry tomatoes in her mouth as he pretended to be annoyed. David grunted, pulling out the large roast pans. 

Mary Margaret elbowed David, jerking her head at Emma, and David cleared his throat. 

"Emma, would you like to help Mary Margaret?" David asked in a strained voice. "I'm sure she will let you add more cinnamon than normal people like in their shortbread."

Rolling her eyes, Emma stuck out her tongue at David, throwing a cranberry at him. "You're lucky I never miss the chance to merge from Em singular into," In unison robot voices, Mary Margaret and her intoned, "Triple M, Femme from Hell." 

The broke into giggles before beginning to work. Opening a bottle of champagne and dumping it into a pitcher with cranberry juice, cinnamon sticks and orange slices, Emma poured herself and Mary Margaret a mug. 

"My contribution, dear Sister in law." Emma smiled. Mary Margaret clinker her mug against Emma's, glancing over to where the men were working. They were back to back in silence, each stabbing at different ingredients. Mary Margaret gave a quiet sigh. Emma looked between the men and Mary Margaret with a confused look. "What?" 

"My husband - your brother - is being a butthead." Mary Margaret whispered. Emma laughed, before realizing that she was serious. 

"Wait, what? Who even says butthead anymore, are you eight? What are you even -" 

"He's jealous. He's jealous that," She pointed at Killian with a measuring cup as she filled it with flour. "He couldn't do this for you. I mean, I know that he has to know this is because of Nil who he absolutely despised, but now there's another person who you've let in your life that is here because of Neal, and who is showing him up, that you've let in -" 

"Fuck, I didn't even, I didn't think -" Emma hissed, and threw back her drink. Hissing in a quiet whisper, she gripped the counter. "Shit shit shit shit. But - but Killian is different, he's not like Neal at all and is just a friend. He's - there's nothing.".

Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow, smirking, before her face fell. 

"Wait. Emma, you're serious? You and him aren't -" Emma shook her head, and Mary Margaret's eyes went wide. "But, but, he's - Oh, Emma." 

Emma looked at her stupidly, blinking as Mary Margaret grabbed her hand and patted, looking over at Killian. He had moved around to the oven, jockeying for space and showing David how to work the various modes as her brother's hands balled further into fists. 

When he caught their gazes, Killian gave a wave her way, smiling at her. 

Emma turned back, and Mary Margaret was gulping down her own glass of the champagne mixture, putting up a finger to stop Emma from speaking as she poured another and downed it just as quickly. 

"Wha?" Emma managed, but Mary Margaret just shook her head, muttering. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

The dinner was fantastic, even if Mary Margaret got exceedingly drunk and laughed entirely too hard at the dirty jokes in her Christmas cracker, but David loosened up as the night went on and they all wore their silly hats, food being passed and eaten. They were all well drunk as the lamb and roast's smell wafted from the kitchen for the next day, and cookies were happily munched on by the fire. 

They played a silly almost game of spades at a low coffee table in the den, trading white elephant gifts of ridiculous pajamas and blanket sets Mary Margaret had picked out, Emma receiving a mustache print blanket and flaming hot cheetos mixed with mistletoe pajamas. Mary Margaret fared much better, a Scooby-Doo onesie with Santa hat, rainbow blanket with poop emojis, and matching poop Emoji pillow. David received a silky mumu in a pepto pink with glittery loafers and a blanket with the repeated words 'Diva' and 'Princess' in cursive on it, but Killian fared worst of all. 

"You've bested me, Mary Margaret. I shan't forgive you for this." He raised a fist in fake anger, plinking in his ears as he pulled out the offending garment. They all cackled, Mary Margaret actually falling over in peals of laughter as he glared at her in good humor and sang out mockingly, "Revenge, revenge, revenge will be mine."

A silky black robe with lace trim and black velour booty shorts were held in his hands, the red and white candy cane lettering across the back reading, 'Naughty List'. The blanket print was a black and red velour with Santa wearing devil horns. 

David could not stop laughing as they all took a photo together, Killian bright red in embarrassment and drink, the both of them staying late up into the night talking. They all changed or got comfortable, Triple M falling asleep cuddled together in a drunk doze. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Christmas morning marked the third and final mistake, a group of hung over almost thirty somethings waking up to a cold hearth and backs that protested not sleeping on a mattress. Killian was up first as usual, fetching wood and dropping it with a yawn in the grate, stoking the embers. Mary Margaret and David woke up later as Emma dozed in and out, listening to their conversation. 

"If you give him any trouble -" 

"- How can she not know, I mean -" 

"I mean it David, I will give you a new year's resolution of a dry spell if you -" 

"That is emotional manipulation, Snow, and I'm only worried for my sister -" 

"Don't 'Snow' me, this is the happiest I've seen her in so long, and you could be happy with her, last night you told me he was a good guy -" 

"Last night I was drunk! Come on, Snow I -" 

"David, if you don't act charming I'll… After we open gifts, go help him in the garden. Please." 

Her brother gave a dramatic sigh, grunting out an okay. Falling back asleep until she smelled coffee, Emma led them in devouring ham with toast. They sat around the tree opening gifts, as they felt life returning in the form of caffeine. 

They all received socks, some books, and various other gifts tailored to them. Mary Margaret got several kits for her class, a voucher for archery lessons, and several bird feeders that would be delivered to their home. David got free dog training courses for their puppy, wireless headphones, and a new pair of boots he had been eyeing. Emma was surprised to receive a wallpaper book based on period design, several dresses, a wine club subscription, and a beautiful shadowbox frame full of photos of hee adoptive mother. David had squeezed her hand at that, both of them sharing a look. 

Emma was beyond grateful that Killian was given gifts by Mary Margaret, who'd given him a National Geographic subscription, Play store card, and to his delight, purchased an actual star for him. 

"It's registered, you just go online and name it. They will give you the coordinates, which you can track on the phone app, or a telescope." Mary Margaret explained. 

"Which brings me to my gifts to you." Emma smiled. She handed him a small envelope, and he opened it cautiously. 

Inside was a voucher for a flower of the month and seed of the month club respectively, but what caught his eye was a scrawled message inside. 

'In the Solarium.' 

"Swan, I thought about what to get you, and -" 

"Aren't you going to look in the Solarium?" 

"Well, yes, but -" 

"No, you've got to go look! I want to see your face. You probably won't shut up for weeks about it." Emma grinned, standing. 

Killian sighed, and they all moved towards the bright sunshine of the glass enclosure. He rounded the bend, and Emma thought his gasp of excitement was worth its weight in gold. The telescope there was gold, designed like an old sextant but completely up to date with the newest technology. Emma watched him trace a finger before looking back at her and trying to find words. 

"I know, I know. Your gift won't compare." She groused, and he looked overcome. 

"Emma, this is too much -" 

"No. It's not." She stated firmly. He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. 

Pulling out a velvet box, he opened it and the sun caught green gems. "I guess I don't have to feel bad about this then. I had them restored after that awful man attacked you. They were in the safe, they're emeralds, a set of combs, earbobs, and necklace set in silver."

He handed the box to her, and Emma could not find words, even} rest assured I'd never let harm befall her." Clapping a hand against David's back, he gave a grim look of resolve. "Never."

David sputtered briefly, before breaking into a grin, and clapping Killian on the back as well, Mary Margaret smiling as she watched Emma swipe away tears from her eyes. Emma closed the box, coming back to the moment, no one noticing her quick sleight of hand as she threw the box under a shelf. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Mary Margaret and David left with Killian feeling like an old friend, their bags heavy and concerned heavily with how they would ever get through customs with the amount of food they had. 

Killian had given them a historic tour of the property, fascinating Mary Margaret, who even forgave his refusal to take her through the woods. 

"They're just lovely, and so weird too. They should not have leaves, and yes there are some fir and pine in there, but it's just so dense. It doesn't make sense, the branches practically knit together."

Killian just smiled blandly, and shrugged. "That land is strange."

David and Killian were acting as if they were best friends, and Emma was delighted, even beyond her distress over Killian’s gift. When she was sure they were all occupied, Emma had dug earth out of one of the many pots in the solarium garden. Pouring the jewels into the hole, she paused, feeling a pang of regret. Bracing herself, she covered the hole in dirt, knowing that she could not survive with the memory of Neal so close. 

Returning to them, they played more games, and Emma showed them plans for the next rooms, they watched a few movies, and overall enjoyed each other's company. 

Seeing them off, Emma hugged her brother tightly without him having to ask if it was alrght, his surprise turning into a tight embrace of joy. 

Killian and her waved goodbye from the hall, watching the taxi pull away from Carterhaugh, Emma leaning into him when they were out of sight. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

After the house quieted from the holidays, Emma began having night terrors regularly. As this continued into the beginning of Spring, Killian found her several times drooling onto a pile of receipts or restoration samples, wallpaper swatches wet and blurred on the edges. Emma had guiltily proposed that she sleep in the garden while he worked, but he had been horrified by that suggestion. 

To combat this and his lack of movie knowledge, Emma came up with what she considered an ingenious solution - using leftover furniture, pillows, and an assortment of old linens, she set up fort pillow-haugh with absolute precision. Falling asleep to Indiana Jones ('Are you sure there's no relation between you two?' she had asked to receive a cheeky grin back) while sated on popcorn and feeling comforted by Killian’s nearby presence was the easiest way to rest. So what if her back protested or in the middle of a thunderstorm she tucked into him so tightly she was afraid he might have bruised - they're friends.  

They're friends alone in the middle of nowhere, and he holds her like he can't imagine anyone who wouldn't worship the ground she walked on. 

They're friends and he spoons against the back of her softly, without any degree of disrespect or disregard, everything up to her. 

They're friends as she is deeply asleep, but without dreams hears his voice like a bell over still water, feeling his nose bury into the hair at the nape of her neck and his lips on her shoulder. 

"I love you, Emma. One day, I'll tell you how much with no trickery, and I will win your heart."

Even if it's only pretty words in dreams as he held her, Emma smiled and relaxed further into his touch. It's a dream she wants nothing more than to keep having as her second anniversary of living in Carterhaugh rolls around. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

The fight is really her fault, but Emma gives stubborn a run for its money on her best days. 

The upstairs bath in the all blue guest room had been leaking and making the hall reek of mildew. Fearing that she might have to replace tile that was quite literally irreplaceable, Emma went about getting a plumber, securing an appointment with one but not for two weeks. 

So she had taken a wrench to the exposed faucets, carefully moving tiles from the mosaic floor of some red haired mermaid, following YouTube videos on how to turn the water off in the old pipes with a shut off valve. When her wrench slipped on the rusty piping and she cut herself, her chorus of curse words echoed down the halls, but she hadn't expected Killian’s breathless arrival or worried eyes. 

"Emma, what did you - Are you alright?" He stared at the red dripping from her hand and her disheveled state. 

Emma nodded, trying to push past, but he held fast. "I just - it's just a cut. I'm alright." The worry in his gaze made her feel under spotlight. It had been almost a year of work, but no one in that time span had ever cared about her, except Mary Margaret. Not that she counted; the woman loved everyone. 

Killian only shook his head. Pulling a black handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it delicately around the cut, bending low to make sure the knot he made was tight. "I thought you said you were calling a plumber?" he asked quietly, the worry now lacing his voice. 

"I did, I just need to turn off this valve and it's stuck -" Emma gestured, and Killian picked up the wrench, bending to look. Before she could protest, he turned the wrench - in the wrong direction. There was a hiss, then a pop, and suddenly there was water shooting at both of them, ice cold, coming from different directions as she wiped at her face and Killian stared up at her in shocked surprise. She stumbled and he caught her, stumbling as well and trying to gain purchase back on the valve, while Emma screamed at him to shut it off, just shut it off - 

They slipped together, and his body was on top of hers, chest heavy and dripping but blocking the jets of water as he turned the valve to stop the torrent at last. When he looked down at her prone and underneath him, he was soaking wet, hair plastered to his forehead and neck, beads getting stuck in his raised eyebrows. 

Emma began to laugh uncontrollably, the urge bubbling up without warning as Killian’s eyes widened and his pupils grew larger. He began to laugh too, his weight on her slight as he tried to hold himself above her while his chest was so close she could feel his heart thundering. His stare leveled at her lips, but when she pushed upwards, he pushed off of her to stand pink all the way across his ears and cheeks. Scratching his ear he mumbled an excuse to leave, but she was soaked and cold, the want heavy from the way everything clung to him like leather. 

Pulling on the fabric of his shirt in two rough fistfuls, she kissed him. He reacted in a muffled grunt that slowly turned into a groan matching her own keen, his tongue and hers together moving in languid synchronization. It was only when they parted breathless, and he broke the moment with the roughest voice she had heard from him, that thought returned. 

"That was…"

Emma practically threw herself away from him, her body aching for more of whatever that was - 

"A one time thing." She heard herself say, too busy trying to flee, to get away from the man she had just desired and obviously desired her, that lived with her, that was her friend, that was her employee - and Oh God Emma what a royal mother of all screw ups. 

Hiding away from him as she could hear her phone buzz, hear his footsteps, his quiet pleading from the other side of her door as she hid on the balcony. She could see him pacing in his room, calling out to her where she hid. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this or in any way. 

He was relentless, and hurt, which she guessed was to be expected. When his knocking and pleading stopped it was a relief and an absolutely terrifying moment in its own right - the halls of Carterhaugh were silent but for the sound of her door opening. An empty bottle of wine laid a slight ways down the hall, the bottle's neck pointing towards Killian’s room. 

He was gone. He had gone and she was alone again like she has been all her life - was before this. The royal fucking mother of screw ups and the granddaddy of absolute stupidity, pushing away the first good thing that has happened to her by kissing him. By letting him chip away at the ice around her soul, only to freeze him out because she - she, not him - kissed him. 

She was a lunatic. She's an idiot lunatic. She's an idiot lunatic that just wants to go back to that moment and… 

And kiss him again, and again, and feel his heart thump and hear that groan into her mouth, feel the way his hand found her hip and tongue slipped past her lips - 

Fuck. 

[darcypalmer]

Rita reveals some truths that lead to a much awaited love confessions from @diegojaimechavez and Gen which leads them to a new kind of intimacy, Vex hogs the bed

After the first day of questioning, things have slowed down in the next few days. The FBI still asked to see Gen a few times for questions that came up during the questioning of Vivien and Bex, and then Al and the other US Marshalls also had their own questions and paperwork to get through, so she spent most of the time either at the US Marshall offices or in the motel room, waiting around and passing the time.

Diego was there through it all. He had his own paperwork to do and questions to answer, but as much as he could, he tried to stay close, and once they were both done for the day, he took her back to the motel and they passed the time together, and she couldn't have been more grateful for him.

Today was the first day when Diego wasn't actually around. He decided to go back to Sunnymead and pack up both his and her apartment. She told him the only two things she really cared about were Vex and her glasses, and maybe some clothes so she would have some change of clothes around, but even though her apartment wasn't empty, it also wasn't full of personal belongings that she really grew attached to. She organized the place in case somebody would need to come upstairs, so they wouldn't see it empty and unfinished at first glance, but none of it really mattered.

He dropped her off at the offices in case they needed her for anything and then he took off, so Gen has been hanging around the offices, quietly trying to stay out of everyone's way when she noticed Rita coming in and maybe it was childish, but she immediately ducked down, hoping Rita wouldn't notice her. It was probably a miscommunication on Diego and Rita's part that she showed up on the day he wasn't around - that, or she was planning on sticking around anyway and Gen would be spending her night alone from this point forward. Something she expected to happen sooner or later, of course she did, but still she just not wanted to talk to Rita in that moment and have to face just how amazing the woman was once again.

_______________________

Rita came in to see Al, with news on Tyler Ellis.  After Diego and Al had a thorough discussion of Rita's involvement, and Al made sure to lightly chastise Diego for calling in an external consultant rather than working within the unit, Al relented and made an appointment to see Rita.  She hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt, going into the offices.  Usually she was hired off the record and off the books to consult for government agencies - she justified it as being shady 'for the greater good', but somehow she felt like she wasn't just going to give her report, but she was being called into the principal's office in elementary school.

She arrived early, so Rita stopped at the coffee kiosk located in the office building, to pick up a tea and a muffin.  As she waited for the tea and looked around, that was when Rita saw the other woman - Darcy Palmer.  Or...her real name, but Rita knew her better as Darcy Palmer.  Darcy seemed hassled and she looked exhausted;  Rita got a smoothie bottle as well, then came over to her.

"Hey there," Rita said, sitting beside her.  She handed Darcy the smoothie. ��"It's the green one, full of vitamins.  You look like you haven't seen a decent meal in days.  If Diego's catering food, then you definitely have not.  I don't know how he manages to look like that, eating the way he does."  She broke the muffin in half. "How are you holding up?"

_______________________

She tried. Maybe not as well as she could, but Gen really tried to be as noticeable as possible, but of course Rita noticed her and came over to talk to her - and even brought a smoothie for her! She didn't wanna know just how shitty and tired and drawn-out she must have looked if Rita would look at her and think "yeah, she needs some vitamins in her system". She didn't take it as an offense, even though she knew some people probably would, she just found it such a genuine and kind gesture.

If things were different, she would probably love to hang out with this woman. Now it just kind of felt awkward. She gave Rita an appreciate smile, though, as she took the offered smoothie. "Hey, thanks. To be fair, Diego ate at my place for almost a year, so it's partially my fault how he ate. And by my place I meant my diner, not my place, you know?" she added quickly when she realized how she might have sounded. There was a short time period when he was eating at her place, but it was better if even Rita didn't know about that.

"And if you think he has bad eating habits, you'd be horrified if you knew mine," she joked. "But thank you for this, it's really nice of you," she raised the cup at Rita before she took a sip of it. It was surprisingly good. There was a period of her life when she lived on these and drank them on a daily basis, but it felt like by this time she forgot how they even tasted, and it was nice.

"I am doing okay, I guess. As much as I can in all of this... well, it's kind of quiet in a weird way, mostly just endless questioning and then downtime. Are you here on official business?" she couldn't help but ask. Maybe she wouldn't like the answer, but it would make more sense if she came to report something or for an assignment.

_______________________

"Hmmm,"  Rita said, with an amused laugh as Darcy mentioned that diner of hers.  She'd misinterpreted Darcy's words, thinking that Darcy was making an innuendo-joke about Diego 'eating' at her 'diner'.  Rita knew he was sleeping with the woman, and she knew what a disaster that could turn out to be - not just for Darcy, but also for Diego.  Now that Vivien Salazar was arrested though, Rita couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for them.  Some impossible, tiny, thin sliver of a chance.  Rita didn't know Darcy well at all, but Rita felt Diego at least deserved something of a break.  He was one of those fools who kept trying to do right, no matter how much he fucked up.  He never gave up; and even now, Rita knew he wouldn't give up on Darcy Palmer.  Did Darcy feel the same?

"I'm sure you fed him well.  And I hope he returned the same.  Men can be so greedy sometimes..." she said with a smile.  Rita didn't know if that came off too chummy, so she was glad when Darcy asked a question.

"I am, I'm meeting with Al Karga - I'm sure you've already met him by now.  My final report to hand in about one Mr Ellis.  Then I'm headed back to New York.  That's where you're from, right?  I'll be glad to get back home, honestly.  I've been on the road too long, and I miss my dogs."  Rita realized that talking about her home to a woman who was currently so massively displaced was probably rubbing salt in an open wound.

"Oh - I'm sorry.  I just mean - well.  I hope things work out for you, really I do.  Unfortunately without any further, er, monetary provisions from the FBI or US Marshal's office, I'm out of your business for good once I return home.  In fact, Diego still owes me for what I've done already; and I'm guessing that fool's planning to pay me out of pocket, too.  That invoice'll be unpaid for a while, probably."  She smirked.  "But I don't mind.  At least my ex-husband's a stockbroker, and I get a huge alimony."

_______________________

"Okay..." Gen frowned. What Rita said sounded extremely strange, but she figured she'd just roll with it. And Rita kept talking, too, and once she brought up Tyler Ellis, she forgot about the weirdness completely.

"Was he involved with Vivien?" she couldn't help asking. It was one of the things that she kept running over and over again in her head. How if she would have listened to him, if she actually believed him, maybe they could have been more prepared and maybe none of the shit that happened would have actually happened. Maybe the FBI would have actually found Vivien before she could have kidnapped Juliana. "Sorry, you don't have to tell me if it's classified or anything, but if it's possible, I'd like to know."

Hearing Rita talk about New York and mention having dogs caused such mixed feelings inside of her. Part of her still desired to get back to New York, but she wasn't sure anymore if it was the city itself or the life where she was happy and didn't know all the horrors that she went through even if she could never actually get that back, while other part of her just wished she could have gone back to Sunnymead, back to the life she built up over the last couple of years. "Yeah, New York born and raised. Really loved it there, too, so I get wanting to go back there. Especially if you have dogs waiting for you. What kind of dogs do you have?"

She wondered if Diego knew about the going back to New York thing. They probably already talked about it and agreed on long distance or something. She couldn't exactly imagine Diego going after Rita and settling down in New York. Not because of Rita, she just couldn't really imagine him going so far from Texas for good. In her mind Diego sooner or later would always end up back here, he loved this place way too much for it.

And apparently Rita wasn't only going back to New York, she was also handing in invoices to Diego, which just made no sense. "Wait, Diego was paying you for everything? I thought he called in a favor, and then especially after you two are... you know, together and all, it was you helping out and the US Marshall's office paying if anyone." MIght have been a really stupid though, she knew that, their relationship was not too long yet, but it somehow made sense in her head. Well, until now. It felt like she was missing something.

And that's when it really clicked for her what Rita was talking about when she said they would feed each other and what she was trying to insinuate and was her smile really teasing or did she misread annoyance completely? Gen's eyes grew twice their size and she practically choked on thin air as she vigorously started shaking her head. "Wait when you said I fed him and he gave it back, you meant that the two of us... No, no, I actually meant he ate at the diner that I was running. Real food, actual real food. He even worked at the kitchen for a hot second, we just argued too much and I kicked him out of there, so he just kept coming back to eat there so he can do his job and keep an eye at me."

She looked around to make sure nobody was around them and actually heard this conversation. She didn't only want to make sure RIta didn't think there was anything between them, not anymore at least, she also didn't want to get Diego in trouble because somebody overheard them. Thankfully nobody was around to hear them but she still leaned forward and lowered her voice as she said, "It's not like that between us, I swear. You don't have to worry, it's-- we're close but it's more because we were thrown into these shitty situations together, mainly because of me, but that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that he doesn't-- you know, feed me. Not in that regard. I'm not... no."

_______________________

“He wasn't,"  Rita replied, about Tyler Ellis.  She said that without any hesitation.  "Not directly, anyway.  He had his fingers in a lot of pies and..."  Rita looked around the office foyer before leaning closer.  "The government's done its share of shady backdoor deals with...a lot of different types of people, but Ellis took that unspoken tactic a little too wholeheartedly.  As in, he chose to profit for himself, rather than for his country.  And that meant he did a lot of glad-handing and deal-making with all sorts, some of them affiliated to Salazar's syndicate.  But I don't think Ellis and Salazar ever actually know each other.  Not directly.  Sorry, Ms Palm- I mean, Ms Soto, that's the most I can say."

She happily went into talking about her dogs afterwards.  Like most dog-owners, she knew the breeds and showed photos to Gen on her phone.  Rita clearly loved the two animals dearly.

But when they got back to the subject of Diego, once again Rita misunderstood what Gen was saying about him, because Rita was going off her own understanding of the situation between Diego and Gen.  "Of course he's paying me for my services, it's how I make a living.  The US Marshal office didn't technically authorize Diego calling me to work Ellis, sooo, yeah.  It's just a lot of red tape.  Don't worry, I don't charge interest for friends," she said with a smile.

And when Gen mentioned Rita and Diego 'together', Rita flushed, realizing that Diego told Gen about their night.  "Listen, Gen.  I don't want to assume anything, but it was just that one night, I promise.  I didn't know how he felt about you until afterwards.  He's a man, you know how it is.  Once the blood reaches their privates their brains switch right off.  I hope I didn't...make things weird between you two."

But then when Gen rushed to assure Rita that Gen and Diego didn't have any sort of relationship - sexual or romantic - going on, then Rita looked even more abashed.  Clearly, from what Gen was saying, it turned out that Rita misread the entire situation.  She'd thought their feelings towards each other were mutual.  But apparently it turned out the feelings that Diego had for Gen Soto were completely one-sided and very much unrequited by Gen.

"Oh, I see,"  Rita said, feeling a bit sorry for Diego for getting himself embroiled in yet another doomed situation.  It wasn't Gen's fault of course - if she didn't have feelings for Diego, that was her right - but Rita knew Diego would just end up with his heart-broken, completely his own doing.  She decided she needed to enlighten Gen, warn her at least so that Gen could hopefully clarify things for Diego.

"And...look I'm sorry for getting so personal, but he's my friend and I do care about him.  But I just want to make sure - so Di knows you don't have any, you know, feelings for him, right?  And...you know he's got it bad for you?  As long as he knows there's no hope in hell of you two happening, then that's fine.  It's just.  He got fucked-up over a woman before you, and she claimed to love him, even if I'm not sure she did.  Since you don't feel anything for him, maybe just, I don't know.  Tell him plainly? So the poor lovestruck fool doesn't think he's got any chance."

Rita patted her hand and smiled.  "And I'm not judging you for not being attracted to him, or anything like that.  If you don't have any feelings for him, that's totally understandable.  He's just my friend and he's ridiculously in love with you, so I want to make sure he'll be okay once you've moved forward in your life, y'know?  And I really, truly hope you're able to move forward in your life, after all this nightmare with Salazar is over."

She glanced at her phone.  "Oh shoot - I should head up to Al's office, I'm gonna be late.  Listen - Dar - Gen - it's been good to see you.  Sorry for all my assumptions about you two!  I honestly thought you two were a thing, that's totally on me,"  Rita said, rushing to gather her things as she stood up and backed away from Gen.  "Good luck on everything, I mean it.  Take care, okay?  Maybe one day we can meet up again and laugh over this, who knows."

And with that, Rita hurried off to the elevator up to Al's maekshift office.

_______________________

It was a relief to hear that Ellis at least wasn't involved with Vivien directly. He was still a shady person and Gen hoped he would finally get what he deserved without being able to turn it around and slip away from the consequences, but it weirdly made her feel better to know Tyler at least wasn't on the same level as Vivien. He wasn't too much higher, but he was at least higher. "Thank you for telling me this much. And please, no Ms, just call me Gen. Or Darcy. Either works, really, I know it's kind of confusing right now."

She happily looked at the pictures Rita was showing her of the dogs and listened to the woman talk about them. She's wanted one her entire life, but at this point she made peace with probably never having one, so now she was just happy when she could hear about other people's dogs. And it was a nice, small break from the heavy and more serious topics, since right after they went back to Diego and him being charged for everything, and Gen made a mental note to herself that she would have to talk about this with Diego. There was no way she would let him pay for all of this when she was just as involved and part of the reason Rita was asked to dig into that asshole in the first place.

And then things took a surprising turn and suddenly Gen felt like she got up onto the rollercoaster that just kept going on higher and higher without an end, because the things Rita was telling her... well, they just made no sense. Or more like they made no sense in her head cause she was so sure she knew and understood the situation that Diego and Rita and she herself were in, and Rita was contradiction everything she thought she knew and was so sure of, and it was just a lot to take in and process and the fact that Rita just kept talking didn't help in the moment.

She had to admit, it crossed Gen's mind for a moment that Rita might just be fucking with her and telling her some fake story and in the end she would just laugh in her face with a "ha ha, you though, huh?" or something. She didn't seem like that kind of person, but how could she have gotten everything so wrong if everything Rita was saying was true? Even if it couldn't be, because DIego made sure to let her know that he didn't want her or thought they should really happen or that he even wanted anything to do with her sexually, the last of it only a few days ago. So what was Rita even talking about?

Okay, maybe they really just slept together once, maybe she misunderstood that part, but Diego couldn't possibly be in love with her, could he? He made it so clear he didn't want anything from her, what could she possibly have misinterpreted as him being in love with her? Was Rita just a really bad judge of character? Really bad at noticing love and the absence of it?

But she couldn't help her heart from fluttering into life and the butterflies in her stomach awakening and memories flashing into her mind. Him calling her honey repeatedly. The way he kept holding her hand during the drive here. How he was trying to take care of her the entire time they were here, putting in more effort than anyone else would have expected of him or would have done in his place. How he repeatedly told her that he wanted to stay by her side through all of this. How he was constantly trying to make sure she ate and got enough rest because he knew just how shitty she was at taking care of herself. How he kept sleeping in a shitty motel room next to her on the same bed when probably nobody else would have done that, normally they would have just let somebody take a night shift and let Diego rest on his own, let him have some time alone to himself at least. How he was currently somewhere between Sunnymead and here because he not only wanted to pack up his apartment and his stuff, but her as well, without her ever having to ask him of any sort. How he wanted her to take the bed and they had the same argument over it every single night since the first. How he arranged a call to her brother because he knew just how much it would mean to her and how much it would fuel her no matter how everything else was shitty around her. The way he pulled her close against him when they were sitting next to each other on the bed. Just how comfortable he seemed around her, whether it be in the car or in the motel room. How he didn't let her drive because he wanted to give her a chance to some calmness if she could find it. And all of this just in the last couple of days.

Suddenly she felt overwhelmed because if Rita is right, how could she have been so blind and so dumb? How could she have missed all the sighs? Just in the last couple of days alone everything he's done showed loving her, or at least having strong feelings for her, and all of that after he caught her right after she slept with Vivien.

Fuck. Vivien. Fuck. She already felt bad that DIego had to see the aftermath of that, had to know what went down between them, but if he really loved her and he had to see that--- fuck, it was an even bigger fuck up than she originally thought.

Fuck, how could she have missed all of this? DId she really miss all of this? She had so many question and she wanted to fire all of them at Rita, but once Rita finished... well, she wasn't sure what she was talking about, she kind of zoned out once she said that DIego was stupidly in love with her, but she assumed RIta was just trying to be a good friend or something, but once she was done with whatever she was telling her, she suddenly got up, excused herself and left and then Gen was just sitting there, half of the smoothie in her hand, staring ahead of herself and trying to wrap her head and heart around everything.

Could it really be true? All of it? Could she really hope that they could be more? That he could reciprocate her feelings?

And as if on cue, suddenly a family figure appeared in her eyesight and in a couple of seconds Rita's place was taken by Diego who looked hassled with a knapsack in one hand and some kind of food box in another and she didn't have a clue what to say or how to react, her heart was beating out of her chest and she was still in the middle of processing everything as she sputtered, "What-- what are you doing here?" She quickly shook her head and added to make sure he didn't misunderstand her, "I mean, I thought the trip would take you longer, you know. Did everything go okay? Did you manage to get everything? Is Vex okay?" Because focusing on her hedgehog and the trip seemed like a safer topic and it at least prevented Gen from asking him outright if everything Rita told her was true or not.

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Diego put the knapsack on one of the chairs, giving Gen a look before she adjusted her questions to be more specific.  "I didn't want the trip to take longer, I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could," he groused, opening up the knapsack carefully.  "People know.  Obviously Vincent and the rest of the copshop, and the diner - although Flo seemed to be convinced by your vacation story and refuses to believe what people are saying.  Everyone was a combination of not wanting to talk to me, and wanted to ask me everything, just like the kids were.  I said my apologies and left as soon as I could."

Opening the knapsack up, he revealed that Vex was right inside the bag, which was lined with hastily torn-up newspaper.  It looked like Diego had also placed cabbage leaves and some carrot pieces in there too.  "I don't know what hedgehogs eat," he said, as they stared at the little creature snuffling around.  "Maybe I should've left it with Jose, he seemed to have taken a shine to feeding it.  They were all going up into your apartment now - Jose, Flo, a couple of the other servers.  But I guess it don't matter now anyway.  The rest of the stuff's still in the car, I just came here straight from Sunnymead.  I brought the hedgehog's crate too, but I didn't wanna leave the critter in the car.   I heard dogs die in cars, figured hedgehogs would too."

Standing straight, Diego slipped his hands into his back pockets.  "But there you go.  I hope I got everything you wanted, but I could always go back."  Checking his watch, he glanced around.  "They kept you waiting long?  I thought Rita was supposed to come by...."

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Listening to Diego, having him sitting next to her, watching him reveal Vex in the bag, all of it felt so overwhelming and strange and too much and not enough at the same time while Gen was still processing everything. Her mind was still running a mile a minute, and then there was Diego talking about something so mundane and so... well, not to say Vex and what happened in Sunnymead was meaningless and nothing, but all of it for a moment felt so much like that compared to the realization she just had a moment ago. Compared to how dumb she felt in that moment for not seeing it sooner. Cause she really should have seen it sooner. It was right there, so obviously in front of her and she was too wrapped up in her own version of the story that she created for herself that she just couldn't see through it and see the reality.

She wasn't sure how she must have looked from the outside, but she must have had the most dazed expression. She felt completely out of it because he loved her. Even now, offering to go back if he missed something, he was offering to go back even though the drive was long and he probably didn't enjoy being in a situation where the entire town was attacking him on what happened, bugging him with questions and demanding explanations. And still, he was offering to make the trip if she wanted him to.

She loved him so much, so incredibly much.

But it's not like she could just keep staring at him and not say a thing, she needed to snap out of all of this and say something, preferably something coherent and something that wasn't bringing up everything Rita just told me. Because she wanted to talk to him about it so badly, but she also didn't know how to bring it up without it just bursting out of her cause ift hat happened in the middle of the office where anyone could overhear them, it would not end well. For either of them.

She tried shifting her focus towards Vex instead, carefully picking her out of the bag, "Hey little star, did you have a good journey?" she asked of her as if she could actually answer back, still being way too aware of Diego and his closeness and his feelings and not looking at him was so damn hard. "She mainly eats cat food but she will eat anything you give him, so the veggies were perfect, thank you for thinking of it. And thank you for bringing her here. Did you talk to anyone other than Flo from the diner? Did you tell her what happened or do you think I should call and tell her that she should believe everyone else? Did everything seemed to be running smoothly?" She was still working out in her head how she could make sure the Grub would stay open, but she trusted Flo in running everything.

She shook her head. "The waiting wasn't bad, just the usual and Rita is actually here already, we talked and she just went to talk to Al right before you arrived. Speaking of Rita," she realized there was one aspect of their conversation she could at least talk to Diego about, "why didn't you tell me you were paying for her work out of your own pocket? You shouldn't have done that. Or at least you should let me help you out there and pay half of it."

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"Are you alright?"  Diego asked Gen, because she was looking somewhat stunned.  "Came out of a bad meeting?" he guessed, since this wouldn't be the first time that all the questioning and debriefing with the FBI and the US Marshal office and even with the on-call therapist had completely melted Gen's brain.  Some of the evenings when he and Gen returned to their hotel room, she'd just function enough to eat whatever he gave her, take a shower, and then watch TV until she passed out.  He knew this would all just be another blur to her, just like it was the first time.  With no routine and no set schedule other than getting to the office to sit around and wait, there was a sense of loss and fogginess.  There was hardly anything Diego could do about it, but just abide by whatever the system needed from Gen, and making sure she at least didn't pass out from dehydration.

He was hoping that today at least, might give her some activity to focus on. First with looking after the hedgehog, and then sorting through all the things that Diego had brought from Sunnymead.  When she finally seemed to click to life she picked up the hedgehog and Diego breathed an internal sigh of relief.  At least the helpless living creature was triggering some sort of effect on Gen, and a good effect.

She spoke to it and Diego smiled to himself, but he didn't make fun of her.  Because on the long drive back from Sunnymead, he'd had a few conversations with the hedgehog himself.  It understood nothing, but it just felt weirdly good to vent to something living.   "Oh good.  You can thank Carl, he gave me the vegetables.  And this sub sandwich for you too.  He said apparently it's your favourite sandwich..."  Diego shrugged, not sure if this was true or just Carl being Carl.  He put the cellophane wrapped submarine sandwich on the knapsack.

"No, I don't think you should talk to anyone directly from Sunnymead any longer.  I'm sorry.  I told Flo and Jose that the restaurant owner's been informed and the FBI will handle things from there in terms or new arrangements.  And yeah - I did talk to Al to find out if there was anything to be done for keeping the diner open.  The owner just needs to find a new person to lease it out to, hm?  So even if it just shuts down for a while in the interim, chances are someone smart in that town will realize the Grub's a cash-cow and snap it up.  Don't worry, you don't...you can't worry about that sort of thing anymore."  It was no longer Gen's to worry about.  It was a Darcy-thing, and now it was over.  He reached out and rubbed her shoulder in commiseration.

"I'll miss that place," he said.  Whether he meant the Grub specifically or Sunnymead overall, Diego wasn't specific.  But there was a truth to what he said.    He released Gen and nodded about Rita, about to get himself a coffee from the kiosk.  But then Gen started talking about Rita's work and Diego paused and frowned.

"She told you?" Diego said, and then rolled his eyes.  "Dammit Rita..."  But it wasn't entirely Rita's fault.  She didn't know about Gen Soto's honourable heart that refused favours or good deeds from anyone without some sort of recompense.  Gen hated owing anyone anything, even if it was something she didn't specifically ask for.  She was stubborn in her desire to pay everyone back, no matter what.  It drove Diego nuts, but it wasn't exactly something he could say to Gen. Mostly because her need to even the playing field came from such a good place.  Maybe she didn't like being in anyone's debt, but at the same time Gen also did so much good in return.

"Look we'll sort it all out later, okay?" Diego said, with a wave of his hand.  "Not like you got money to speak of - your savings and credit card are Darcy's money, not yours."

But he also had a wildcard up his sleeve to distract her from this argument, and this was the perfect opportunity for a distraction.  He pulled two photos out of his pocket.  "Here you go - I didn't forget these either."  Gen's two photos - of Vivien, and of her family.

_______________________

Gen only realized both of her hands were taken when the sandwich was planed onto the bag. One of her hands had Vex, the other was still holding onto the half drank smoothie that Rita got her. Vex immediately started smelling, her little nose moving towards the sandwich and Gen smiled. "Thanks. Both to you and Karl, I guess. I'll eat it later, for now this smoothie will be enough." She took another sip of it.

She knew it was coming, that there would be a point when she wouldn't be allowed any more contact with anyone in that town. Technically she already wasn't allowed, but it wasn't spoken specifically out loud to her yet, so she was still holding onto hope. Just like she was holding onto hope that she would be able to somehow keep the Grub. She wasn't sure how that would be possibly, especially if she was relocated, but she was still holding on as the last lifeline to the life she had in Sunnymead, the life she built for herself and came to love. So when Diego told her it was done, there was nothing she could be done, it felt like a whole new kind of loss washing over her. Something similar she felt when she was relocated from New York. As if losing the Grub was making all of it real and final.

The Grub was her baby. It was her project that in a way saved her sanity back when she got to New York. It helped her in so many ways she wouldn't have been able to count them all, it gave her the opportunity to blend into the community with ease and as much as she started working on it with resentment and anger and annoyance towards the business, she came to love it so dearly. And all of it snatched away from her without the FBI thinking twice about it. (Not that she didn't realize that this was the logical and the right move in her position, but she couldn't think about it rationally, all she could feel in that moment was the loss.)

She closed her eyes and willed herself not to let the tears go. She was doing so good in the last couple of days not letting the emotions get the best of her, only allowed herself to cry when the two of them got back to the motel room and her sobs were muffled out by the running shower, and she was not about to break that routine. She knew nobody really would have cared, aside from Diego, but she still didn't want to allow anyone to see that. She took a couple of deep breaths before she opened her eyes again and gave Diego a bitter smile. "Hopefully somebody will open it soon and it will continue to be a staple in the community of the town." Just not with her running it. Or serving people, or doing the books, or even being able to ever step foot in that place. "And yeah, I'll miss it too. Everything, really."

He clearly didn't want her to know about him paying which was... well, it was stupid, really, but if he didn't want her to insist on helping out, it made sense that he didn't want her to know. Rita spoke about it so casually, though, that Gen was sure none of that was ever discussed between her and Diego. She was about to point this out when Diego made a point that she didn't even realize. Darcy's money wasn't hers. "What the fuck?!" she exclaimed, sudden and shocked. "So basically I have even less than I thought I did and basically at this point me getting relocated would be the best case scenario for me because then at least I would get some kind of help. Fuck. Cool. Awesome. We're still talking about the invoices, though," she added a moment later, cause it still didn't feel right to let him pay the full amount all on his own.

But if he wanted to avoid the conversation, he knew just how to distract her. The moment those pictures appeared in her eyesight, she froze once again, her eyes locked onto the pictures. She honestly thought Diego would only bring the one with her family. She did not want to see or have anything to do with the one where Vivien and her were together. She just... well, she wished she could just fucking burn it, really. She wanted to get rid of it in the most drastic and final way possible. Not that she could actually burn it up now, in the middle of the offices. They shut her down before even the photo could catch on fire. But it did give her an idea, and after finishing up the smoothie in her hand and putting its cup down next to her, she carefully took the two pictures, making sure that vivien's was on the bottom, covered by her family's picture so she would not see Vivien's face and placed it in her lap. "Thank you. For bringing these, too," she gave him a smile and reached over squeezing his hand.

_______________________

"Yeah," was the most that Diego could say about the fate of the Grub.  Gen tried to make it sound very straight-forward and diplomatic, but Diego figured it was just one more private matter for her to have a breakdown over when she was alone.  There was nothing for Diego to do about it, except be there whenever it happened.  Gen had so much to mourn and grieve over - her family, her friends in Sunnymead, her two separate lives - she probably hardly ever knew where to start.  One sadness probably melded into the other, and back again.  She was a walking ball of nerves, on the verge of collapse.

So when she had her angry outburst about her money, and insisted on tabling the talk of the invoices for another day, Diego just nodded.  "Alright, fine."  And then he added,  "Payment installments, once you start making money again.  With interest, if you prefer."  It was a compromise he was willing to make right now, because it banked on the idea of Gen once more getting back out there, finding a way to work again (and Diego knew she had an incredible work ethic, it was one of the things he immediately had liked about her) so she could pay him back.  He didn't want the money from her, but if it was something she felt she had to do, then why not just let her do it?  She needed a win of her own making.

"Of course,"  Diego said, when she thanked him for the photos.  "I couldn't--"

But he was cut off by a couple of the FBI agents pulling Gen back into one of their offices.  They got Diego to come too, and the FBI agent informed Gen that they'd done as much investigation with her as they could for the moment, and in a couple of months, they'd be flying her to New York to provide depositions and possibly testimony with the State Attorney.

Al was there as well, and he added,  "The US Marshal office will arrange your lodgings in the time being.  You will be moving states, California's been too compromised.  It won't be temporary, but..."  Al looked at Diego, who nodded.  "We've made arrangements that you can keep the same handler, so.  Chavez here will be going with you."

The FBI agent nodded.  "And then once the trial is over - which could take months - then...we'll see what happens.  That's the best answer we can give you, Ms Soto.  Unless you have any other questions?"

_______________________

Gen nodded, happy that Diego didn't just simply try to fight her on her wanting to help with the money. "That sounds perfect, thank you." Maybe it was a small victory, maybe she wouldn't even be able to fulfill it for a long time still, but it was still something she could plan for, look forward to.

The FBI agent walked up to them without Gen ever noticing and she quickly (but hopefully not so obviously, at least she tried not to make it to be) pulled her hand back from Diego's and the two of them followed the agent into the office and listened to all the information given to them. It was a relief to know that the questioning was finally over, she wouldn't have to spend any more time in this place, but when the agent told her that she would be moved until the trial, for a moment she got scared, because it sounded like it would just be her and not Diego, too. It would have been a cruel twist of fate if after what she realized thanks to Rita, suddenly they were forced apart from each other. But as if Al felt all of that, he reassured her that Diego would be coming and she couldn't help the genuine, happy smile that spread over her face.

"I don't have question. I'm assuming the details will be provided before we are actually there... wherever the new place is."

"Of course. My coworkers are already working on the details of the location with the help of the local US Marshall department. You will be provided with all the information required tomorrow and then moved either the tomorrow evening or the night after that, based on how we can arrange everything. Until then you are required to remain in the room you're already in."

After this, the two of them were ushered out and they headed back to mentioned hotel. They picked up some food for Diego on the way, while she spent most of the ride sunk into the seat, her eyes closed, Rita's words going over and over in her head, Vex enjoying the ride in her lap.

Once they made it to the motel room, they moved everything inside the room, set it to the side of the room so they wouldn't be in the way - she would sort through them later, first she wanted to get Vex comfortable. And talk to Diego about everything. That was the main thing she wanted to focus on. She set up Vex on the bed and arranged the pillows to make sure she wouldn't fall off and then she looked for the trash can of the room - which was empty, just like she thought it would be. Perfect for what she wanted to do. "Do you have your lighter on you by any chance? Could I get it for a moment?"

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"Looks like we'll be dining on pizza for the next couple of days,"  Diego joked as they drove back to the motel.  He motioned to their current takeout sitting in the back of the car.  "So enjoy these burgers for now."  Even as dire as that sounded though, Diego felt strangely...uplifted.  He didn't want to think about his own personal reason for being happy about all these changes, so instead Diego just decided that he felt happy, becaue Gen sounded so happy when they were talking to the FBI.

For once, Gen didn't have any questions for the FBI or for Al.  She was compliant and understood the procedure and Diego was surprised.  Usually Gen was full of all types of questions, but this time she just accepted her new fate without complaint.

But it wasn't technically Gen's complacency that made Diego happy, but just that smile.  That beautiful brilliant smile that Diego hadn't seen on Gen's face for such a long time.  It was like sunshine after weeks of rain.

They got back, and Diego tried to sort through the piles of stuff to find the cage he'd brought for Vex.  "I know it's here somewhere...oh maybe I left it in the trunk of the car," he said - but it seemed like Gen had the hedgehog sorted with a pillo enclosure, so Diego decided he'd go downstairs and fetch the cage after dinner.

And then Gen was asking for his lighter and he pat his pockets.  He handed the zippo to her curiously.  "Another smoke?" he asked.  "We should conserve them if we're here for a couple more nights and can't go out.  It's our last pack."

_______________________

Gen took the lighter with the shake of her head. "Nope, for once this isn't for a smoke." She grabbed the trashcan and moved it out of the room - she didn't think the room actually had a fire alarm, but just in case, she didn't want to trigger anything, plus she didn't want anything to get stuck with the smell of smoke, and then she fished out the now very crumbly and bad looking picture she had with her and Vivien on it.

She made sure the other picture was tucked away safe and sound in a place where it wouldn't get hurt or damaged, but she did not give any care about this picture anymore aside from the fact that it got destroyed.

She looked at the picture for a few moments, but at this point even looking at her own happy smile felt different. All of it, the entire picture felt fake and made up and built up on lies and deceit and she just wanted Vivien out other life completely. Which was going to happen, one way or another, but it felt like it started with this picture. This picture which for four years gave her so much strength and emotional support along with the picture of her family. And now it just made her angry for all kinds of different reasons. It was definitely time to get rid of it.

She held the little picture up so Diego could see what she was holding in her hand clearly, too - it felt so important to make sure that Diego saw what she was doing, that he understood that Vivien was her past and she didn't want anything to do with her. Especially after that colossal fuck up, she wanted him to see and know what she was doing.

"You know, for the longest time I never thought I'd actually want to get rid of this picture. I was living in this fucking fantasy and holding onto something that was never real, not for a moment, because I so desperately wanted to believe that it was working and that the fact that I was living in a happiness that was based on ignorance was good for me. Not anymore." And with that, she lit the picture, waited a few moment to make sure it caught on fire, and then dropped it into the trashcan so it could burn through the entire picture without any disruptions.

_______________________

"What're you..." Diego started to say, but when she took the trashcan out to the balcony, to the little private corner (they had an end suite) and pulled out the photo, he understood.  He rocked back on his heels, folding one arm while he chewed the nails on his other hand.  He watched Gen silently then.  He didn't try to stop her - mostly because it wasn't his place to stop this.  It was part of the process, and really Diego had to admit he admired Gen for being so decisive about this decision.  She'd only received the photos today, and already she knew what she wanted to do with Vivien's photo.  What it would mean to do this.

He watched as she gave it a goodbye speech, and watched as she lit the photo and then threw it in the metal trashbin.  Diego only stepped forward then, and he put his arm around Gen's shoulders.  "You okay?" he asked her quietly, after the fire ate the photo up completely, then simmered down into a few burning embers.

_______________________

Gen watched the picture curl up and burn and she kept thinking about that night when Diego found her pictures, how much she was desperately trying to hold onto it. How after she even tried to fucking steal it back, for fuck's sake. All of it for a picture of a person she was lying to her the entire time during their relationship.

Compared to that panic she felt during that night, she felt nothing in that moment. No, that wasn't right, there was an incredible rage towards Vivien inside of her for everything the woman put her family and herself through, and then for everything she put Juliana, and Diego and Phoenix and her through now and never for one moment it crossing her mind to apologize, not for a single moment. And then slowly, as the picture got smaller and smaller, there was this weird relief washing over her stronger and stronger, something she did not expect at all, but was very much welcomed.

She watched it for a few moments longer once the picture was gone completely and then Diego was there, his hand wrapping around her shoulder, asking her if she was okay and she just nodded and leaned against him for a few moments. "Yeah, I'm good. This felt oddly freeing," she admitted.

She didn't want to talk about any of it, though. She wanted to talk about anything but Vivien. More specifically, she wanted to talk to Diego about everything Rita told her, she just didn't have a clue where to even start with it. She just knew that she couldn't hold it in for too much longer, especially not if he kept being this nice and supportive to her. She just wanted to blurt out that she loved him, and that probably wouldn't have been the smartest way to start a conversation. Or maybe that is exactly what it would have needed.

But she kept quiet, and she pulled back and gave him a small smile before gently pushing him inside. "Go in, eat, while the burgers and fries are still warm." She followed him, and the two of them settled on the bed like they did the previous nights, except they were situated on the bottom side of the bed since Vex was still very happily enjoying her side of the bed.

Gen pulled a few salad leaves out of the sandwich Carl sent to her and gave it to Vex and then she started munching on her fries. "Did you know that up until like, an hour ago, I thought you and Rita were together? As in, together together, and not just, you know, one night, having a little fun together." She kind of rushed through the sentence to make sure she wouldn't chicken out, her heart beating out of her chest. Here it came, now she would know 100% sure whether Rita was right or not. Not that she now felt like she could have been wrong.

_______________________

"I figured that was the point of burning it.  Freeing yourself...some kind of personal closure."  But Diego felt he was just rambling now about nonsense that he had no real business talking about.  Even after that harrowing kidnapping and seeing Vivien Salazar in person, Diego still believed that Gen's dealing emotionally and mentally was something deeply intimate and personal.  There was nothing he could do to change what happened, except be whereever Gen needed him.

Once it was over, they left the can outside and headed back into the room.  Diego lounged on the bed to eat, comfortable now in such close proximity with Gen.  They'd been cooped up between here and the office building for a few days now.  One would think Diego would get antsy about it, but he didn't really mind.  At the moment, he felt content as he ate dinner in close quarters with Gen.

He wanted to make a comment about the dinner not being as good as the Grub, but decided against it.  Gen had only just gotten past one painful memory in her life, he didn't want to remind her of another.

Fortunately, Gen started speaking instead - and what she said genuinely surprised Diego, and made his skin turn flush.  "Me and Rita?  Because of - listen, Gen.  That night was...it wasn't meant to happen."  He sounded like he was making excuses for cheating on Gen though, and Diego tried to stop himself from digging that hole any deeper.  Not only because he didn't want to make excuses, but also because he wasn't even sure if it was cheating.  Did Gen consider it cheating?

"Not that I don't care about her," he added lamely, thinking maybe Gen would get angry at him for disrespecting Rita.  "She's a friend, and we've had some benefits every now and again yeah.  But it was just that one time and...it was just the heat of the moment."  He thought about Gen and Vivien but he didn't mention that.  It wasn't cheating, not for him, anyway.  Finding out that Gen had slept with Vivien, it didn't feel like cheating to him.  But he had no idea how Gen felt.  "I hope you understand.  I am sorry it happened, if...if it...I mean.  Are you...angry?"

_______________________

Gen tilted her head as she watched Diego suddenly get awkward and flushed (did she ever actually see him blush, ever? she couldn't remember) and started babbling and he actually apologized. As if he did anything wrong. As if she didn't do the same thing, only worse. And still he was apologizing and thinking that she was mad and Jesus, she loved him so much. How did it take her so long to see all of it? Both her own feelings and his as well. How could she have missed any of it?

She let out a soft chuckle as she shook her head. "Jesus, this is why I love you," she said without it ever even registering what she was saying in the moment as she ran her fingers through her hair. "You sleep with Rita, and then I go and... well, I go and sleep with Vivien, which is like a 100 times worse, and somehow you're the one apologizing and asking me if i'm angry. I really need to get my anger in check if you think I could ever be mad about something like this. Not to mention I'd be the biggest hypocrite on the entire planet." She was hurt, yes, but now she realized that a lot of that pain was her own fault, creating a story in her head about something she saw even though she shouldn't have jumped to conclusions so quickly or used her imagination so widely in the first place.

"No, the reason I-- well, the reason I am bringing it up because I talked to Rita about it. Well, no, I think it was more like we talked over each other and we kept misunderstanding each other and thus revealing things that-- what I'm trying to say is that I thought you two were together, so when you came up, I tried to reassure Rita that nothing was going on between us because I didn't want her to think I'd screw things up for you guys, which was true, I want you to be happy and if that was with Rita, then I'd want that for you. And she believed me so much that... she said some things. About your feelings."

She was talking faster and faster and she could feel her heart beat picking up more and more, and by the time she got to the end of her words, she already half forgot what she already said. She was just rambling, trying to get to her point as coherent as she possibly could, but also in the end not really daring to say the things Rita actually said to her. She felt like a chickenshit, but she also didn't want to say it for him, partly because she didn't want it to turn out to be untrue, and a tiny part of her was afraid that DIego would tell her that just because he wasn't with Rita, it didn't mean he had feelings for her either (and it felt way too good to be true and too many shitty things happened to her in the last few years to believe anything good like this could ever happen to her again), and partly because she wanted him to say it so badly.

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Diego blinked, then paused, then stared at Gen as she kept talking, wondering if he'd just heard what he thought he'd heard.  'This is why I love you' - that was what she said, wasn't it?  He looked around, as if there was anyone else in the room who could confirm this.  Vex provided no assistance.  He turned back to look at her, trying to play catch up to everything else she was saying - and it suddenly felt like a lot.

Was she being sarcastic?  As in 'jesus christ, this is why I love you, you're just so aggravating' in a dry, friendly bantering way?  He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, only his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.  So clearly there was some part of him internally that was making a big, huge deal out of it.

"Well the circumstances were different," Diego pointed out, although his words came out faint and mumbly.  He didn't know why he felt the need to defend Gen sleeping with Vivien, apart from the fact that it completely destroyed her life.  Again.  She didn't need anyone else to beat her up about it when Diego knew she'd be doing a good job of that herself.

Then it connected, when she said she spoke to Rita - she spoke to Rita, apparently, about him.  One of those mysterious 'girl-talks' happened between Rita and Gen, where things were discussed and learned.  Diego never understood how women could just be almost complete strangers yet manage to accomplish deep heart-to-hearts, only to drift away once more.  It fascinated him, and this time it seemed to possibly benefit him as well.  At least, he seemed to come out of their girl-talk without either woman being angry at him.

It seemed, possibly, maybe, that it was quite the opposite, in fact.

"My feelings.  My feelings?" he repeated, finally with some clarity.  He was about to challenge her to detail what 'his feelings' were, according to Rita.  Put Gen on the spot and make her confess everything that happened in this girl-talk.  But she'd said so much already, and she was looking at him with those huge eyes full of vulnerability and a certain fond softness that went straight to Diego's heart.  There was no need to get defensive or challenge her, because she'd said so much already.

Right from the start.  It wasn't sarcasm in Gen's tone.  And so it would be cruel to make her doubt herself now, at this point, when everything apparently seemed to be revealing itself before them, somewhat out of their control.  But there it was.

Thanks to Rita and Gen, and their girl-talk, apparently.  He made a mental note to send Rita a gift basket, one day.

But he stayed where he was, watching her intently now.  He said the first thing that came to his mind.  "It's not wrong.  My feelings.  They're...they're not wrong.  They're not ideal, but that's sometimes just how it works out, and if it's worth it, then it can be sorted, hopefully.  And Gen, I'm...I shouldn't have made you feel that way, that you were...wrong.  You might be the job for me but - you're much more than just a job for me."  Diego paused then, his face crumpling as he tilted his head at Gen.  He motioned with his hand.

"And honey - you...do realize what you said to me, just now?  Right at the start, before - ah - before you started talking about you and Rita, and all that.  You said you...."  He prompted her to recall, in case she didn't.

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Gen's stomach dropped at the way Diego repeated her last words, and for a moment she was terrified that Rita was, in fact, wrong and he didn't have any feelings for her. (Did she really believe everything Rita was telling her without being able to properly even ask back? Did she really wish Diego to have feeling for her so desperately that one short conversation made her believe anything?) That whatever Rita thought she saw was a huge mistake and she was nothing but the job and that Gen was right in thinking that everything he was doing lately was out of nothing but kindness. That opening her mouth was a huge mistake and she would be wishing she never brought the conversation up at all.

But then Diego was talking again, or more like stumbling over his words as if he wasn't completely sure what he wanted to say either, just said the first thing that crossed his mind, and Gen's heart was fluttering and waking up, quickly beating out of her chest in excitement and hope. He didn't think they were wrong, he didn't think his feelings were wrong. She tilted her head, her expression softening and a smile spreading across her face that she was sure nobody in that moment would be able to wipe off of her face. "Thank God, cause it always felt right between us and I couldn't imagine how you could... how it could feel anything but that for you," she said, her voice barely above whisper. It somehow didn't feel right to talk normally, as if it would ruin the magic.

She frowned for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant (while finally, for the first time, not freaking out over him calling her honey, cause it was in fact not just a general endearmeant, he said it specifically to her, because he had feelings for her and he wanted to call her something sweet and loving and damn it, she could feel her entire body tingle with excitement over something so small).

"What do you mean? I just said that--" And then it hit her.

This is why I love you.

That is what she led with. That she loved him. Which was 110% true, yes, but that wasn't supposed to be what she led with.

"Fuck," she couldn't help the curse word slipping out of her. "Fuck, I wasn't supposed to tell you like that. Just blurting it out and dumping it on you out of the blue and moving on without even realizing I said it and--" And she stopped herself because she was doing it all over again. Just talking and talking. Her expression softened and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. "But it's true. I do love you. And I want you to know it has nothing to do with gratitude for everything that you did, it's just-- you're an amazing person and I'm so lucky to have met you and looking back it feels kind of ridiculous how long it took me to realize, but I am in love with you."

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It felt hard to speak, and it seemed Gen felt the same way, her words barely above a whisper.  Still, Diego didn't come closer to her out of some absurd fear that if he moved now, then this would all suddenly dissipate. Like Gen would bolt like a deer or change her mind or even more cheesily, that this was all just a dream.

But she said it again - I love you - and he didn't even consider that maybe she loved him out of some sense of obligation or like she owed him for something.  That thought, more than anything, finally clicked home for Diego.  This was actually happening.  He could unearth those feelings that he'd tamped down and buried, and actually explore them - with Gen.  She said it so plainly, he still couldn't quite believe this was happening, but he did believe it was true.

Dinner forgotten, Diego got off the bed and finally closed the distance between them, picking Gen up in his arms. He kissed her first, fervent insistent kisses, each one longer than the previous.  "Are you sure?" he asked her finally, but then quickly said,  "No, you don't need to answer that.  I believe you."  Diego put her down and cupped her face then, searching her eyes for what he finally knew was already there.

"I love you too, Gen..."  Diego breathed the words out, and it felt so comfortable being spoken like that.  So natural, like it was obvious.  He had Gen to thank for that.  Gen and her outspoken ways.  He smiled, wryly.  "So was that what Rita told you?  That I was in love with you?  She tried to talk to be about it but I ignored her because - well - you and I, we were fighting...damned if I can even remember what about."  Something about Tyler, and Darcy - Gen - doing her own thing.  Whatever.  It hardly mattered anymore.  Not when he got to slid his arms around her, and feel Gen holding onto him.

Diego walked them back to the bed, kissing Gen as they sat on the edge.  Diego kept kissing her then, so she lay back on the pillows, his arms braced on either side of her head.  "So. What do we do now?"  He pushed some of her auburn curls off her face.  "I don't have any plan for any of this, Gen.  And I doubt you do either.  You think...you think we can make this work?"

Dropping his head, Diego then rested his forehead against Gen's, a strange sort of relief washing over him.  "Damn, this feels surreal.  It feel that way for you?  This - none of this could've ever happened if...all the circumstances didn't line up.  Not all those circumstances were good, either."  Gen's cover being blown, Juliana getting kidnapped, the anger and betrayal from Sunnymead.  Her life over in the space of a few days.  "Is this a good thing?  I don't - with everything happening, Gen, I don't want to ruin it just because...we don't know how to control it."

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There was a moment of quiet and stillness between the two of them, when they just looked at each other and neither of them dared to move, almost as if neither of them wanted to ruin the moment, as if the smallest movement on either of their part could make all of this disappear. And then Diego was moving, towards her, for her, and Gen couldn't help the genuine, happy laugh that break out of her as he swoop her up into his arms. And then his lips were pressed against hers, Diego kissing him with passion and Gen's laugh died, matching his passion and fervency with hers, not wanting to let him pull away even just for a moment, let alone him speaking stupid things and asking her if she was sure just to then reassure her that he believed her. She didn't think she would ever be allowed to kiss him again, and now she didn't want to stop.

Okay, maybe she was okay with stopping the kissing for Diego cupping her face and telling her that he loved her, too. She was more than okay with that interruption. Her arms were around his torso and it felt like she melted into his arms hearing those few simple words. If somebody told her they would be here after she first met Diego... hell, if somebody told her at the beginning of the day, she wouldn't have believed any of it. It just felt too good, too surreal, too much out of a book or a movie. Too much like a happy ending when she for the longest time didn't believe she would ever get one.

"Yeah, that's what she told me," she said, her lips curling up in a grin which she doubted would disappear from her face anytime soon. She reached up, one of her hands wrapping around Diego's neck and holding onto him tight and strong, pulling him close, while she cupped his face with her other hand, her fingers caressing his face. "After I told her that there was nothing between us cause I didn't want her to worry while you two were together - there was a lot of miscommunication in the conversation -, she told me that I needed to talk to you and let you down easily because you're ridiculously in love with me and you need to know you don't have a chance with me. And then she just walked away." She felt so overwhelmed in that moment and had so many questions she wished she could have asked from Rita, but it was better like this. She didn't want to talk about Diego's feelings with Rita, she wanted to talk about them with Diego. His feelings and hers and how they could figure out all of this.

"Careful, careful, we don't wanna crush Vex," she chuckled as they laid on the bed, Gen making sure they landed on the other side of the bed to where the little hedgehog was. Maybe she should have gotten her out of there, but in that moment all she could do was keep holding onto Diego and keep looking at him. A part of her was still scared that if she just looked away, all of this would be gone, while the other part of her simply couldn't get enough of him, his touch, the way he so openly looked at her with adoration and love now.

They could do that now. They could finally be open about their feelings, neither of them had to keep it in anymore, neither of them had to wonder how the other felt. It was like such relief, like an amazing dream she never wanted to wake up from. Except it was reality, which made it all even better.

At his question, she leaned up and kissed him, this time slowly. "I'm not sure what we're going to do now, but we'll figure it out. We'll make it work. I refuse to accept anything else. We have some time here in this room, and then we'll be somewhere else for a couple of months at least. We can just figure it all out one step at a time." New life, new identity, new people. Everything was new, but knowing he would be there, that they would be there for each other from the beginning - it felt a lot less daunting this time. At least they could rely on each other through all of it.

She gently started running her finger along his arm as he was propping himself up above her while she nodded. "Yeah, it feels surreal. Or more like a dream. I never though... fuck, Diego, I was so convinced you didn't want anything to do with me, not anymore, all of this doesn't feel real yet." She leaned up and kissed him, originally wanting to only give him a small kiss in between their conversation, but she just couldn't get enough, couldn't pull away. He felt intoxication, addictive, and she wanted to keep kissing him, keep him close.

"Our timing might not be the best, but if both of us want this, I can't see this as anything other than good." The timing really was not the best, especially not considering how they were still very much surrounded by Marshalls and the FBI, and she still didn't want to get him in trouble for any of this. Hearing him say that he didn't want to ruin this, though, it made her heart warm and jittery. "I don't want to ruin this either. Maybe if we take it slow, we can keep it in control. And Diego, I--" she pushed herself up a bit onto one of her elbows, and cupped his face, looking into his eyes. "I'm still very much a mess, that's not going to change, and I don't-- I don't want to screw this up with where I am right now. I don't want to just be the sad girl you gotta comfort and cheer up at all times, you deserve better than that." A moment of quiet before she whispered, "I want to love you right. The way you deserve it." It felt important to make that clear.

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"Well I wouldn't say it was ridiculously in love..."  Diego grumbled in protest as Gen described what her and Rita talked about.  But he mostly just protested in jest, because the conversation sounded so very Rita.  And so very Gen, for that matter.  Of course she'd convinced herself somehow that he had no feelings for her.  Because, he supposed, he'd dine such a good job  trying not to acknowledge his feelings.

Diego had, for a brief, weird, blissful bubble of time over the holidays.  When he and Gen started sleeping together more regularly, when things felt and seemed happy and peaceful between them.  Those moments of tenderness and togetherness where they actually talked about things as a couple would.   Except they never talked about deeper things - like feelings for each other, or plans for the future.  It was safer that way of course, especially because it couldn't last forever.  And it hadn't.  The bubble burst, and life returned, and then madness happened.

And now here they were again.  "I never thought we'd get this chance, so I just didn't want to give either of us hope,"  Diego explained, to try and assuage Gen's convictions that he hadn't felt anything for her.  So she didn't think she was just being stupid or blind.  "We were going along so well for a while, but too much of a good thing...can just be a fantasy when the world around you is terrible.  I learned that lesson already.  And so did you, in a way..."  Diego glanced over at Vex for a moment (safe between her pillows) and then kissed Gen again.

"But this is different.  Everything's different now, including this.  You're right.  This is good.  We'll take it slow so we can figure it out.  We don't have to rush things and we're both adults with...lots of fucked-up experience, so."

He was glad to hear Gen being reasonable like that, it soothed his own fears.  She always had a very sensible way of looking a things, often from angles that Diego's own mind couldn't see.  He could rely on that, like he had in the past.  And for the first time, Diego realized he could see a future for them.  Nothing substantial, just a pinpoint of light, and hope.  And possibility.  He felt something else too, like the inklings of a chapter coming to a close, to start a new chapter soon; but he didn't know quite what to make of that so he tabled it for now and focused on Gen and Gen alone.

"No, none of this feels real yet," he agreed, looking around them.  "It's the ambiance, and the state of displacement - I don't think either of us function well when our lives are in limbo, hm?  Your life more than mine, but where ever you go, honey, you know I'm gonna follow.  I'm glad I convinced Al and he worked that bossman magic.  Maybe once we're in the new interim town before the trial, we can...know what to do.  I trust my instincts with you by now, hm?"  He ran a curled finger along her soft cheek.  Diego smiled and slowly lowered himself down, beside Gen so that they could just lay together looking at each other.  Vex, in truth, took up the majority of the space while Gen and Diego shared a smaller space on the bed.  Not that Diego minded in the least.

"And I know things aren't gonna transform overnight, Gen.  This ain't no Cinderella story.  Besides, I like comforting and cheering up my sad girl, when she's sad.  You better not try'n pretend shit's okay and that you're fine just to delude me, Gen.  I'll know.  I know all your signals, even when you try to hide them." But even still, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and fluttering inside of him, when Gen said she wanted to love him right...because he deserved it.  "I think you're the first person who's told me I deserve something so good, Gen.  Other than my mother, I guess, but that's much different."

He still touched her, hand rubbing along her arm and hip in stroking motions.  "I'm in no rush, as long as I still got you.  And whenever you're ready - whenever we're ready to do it right, then we will.  For now, we'll take it slow.  And if I'm being honest with you darling, I don't think we should sleep together right now, even if it would help with some of the tension.  It'd be too superficial...I can't believe I'm suggesting this,"  Diego guffawed and looked up at the ceiling as if to confirm his own words with God.

Then, decision made, he looked back at Gen.  "We should wait till we're settled and not so...waiting for someone else to make plans for the next step in our lives.  Right now if I was gonna have sex, it'd just be mindless sex purely for physical pleasure.  And I don't want that with you.  And I don't want anyone else but you, even for mindless sex, so.  We can just stay here like this, hm?  For now, until we...until things are right."

He chuckled then.  "Why do I suddenly feel like a teenager trying to do the good Catholic thing about my first time?"

_______________________

Gen shook her head quickly as Diego tried to explain. "Hey, no, no, darling, I didn't think it could go last, either, you didn't do anything wrong. And I misinterpreted a lot, I came to my own conclusions. Which already proved to be way off from time to time," she joked. "So you didn't do anything wrong."

She shifted just a little so Diego would have the space to lower himself next to her. Not too much, though, she very much enjoyed the close proximity and all she wanted to do was stay close to him, stay touching, but just enough so he wasn't in danger of falling off the bed. She rested her hand over her side, her fingers slowly drawing circles on his back. "I like it when you say that, that you're coming wherever I am going. I know it's true, I know you said it before, but I still like hearing it. And I like it when you call me honey." If nothing else, that should have been a dead giveaway. There was something in Diego's voice, a softness that wasn't usually there that was only there for her, that was filled with adoration and love. Of course it wasn't just a casual honey.

Gen's heart filled up with warmth and love as Diego said he knew nothing would change overnight but that he wanted to be there through the bad parts. She knew that already, he made it very clear, but still it was nice to hear. "I wasn't planning on that... okay, no, that's not fully true, I would probably try and hide some of it, but I know that you can tell. And I really appreciate you being there for me, and I will try not hiding it. And just to be very clear, there's no hiding anything now," she added and kissed him. "Just happiness."

It felt strange in a way, to feel this happy in the mids of everything else, but it also felt like it was something that was well deserved, something that was right and almost needed after all the shit that happened.

Him saying she was the first person to say something so nice to him felt so sad, if she really thought about it, but it also didn't surprise her. Other people were definitely idiots, not to notice just how amazing he was, but she also knew that she was one of those idiots only a couple of months ago. He barely let anyone close enough to see through his hard exterior, and she was lucky to have been able to let in like that. "Well, you do deserve it, even if other people are too dumb to see. I'll just try to make it worth the wait, I guess."

She watched him with an amusing smile on her face as he struggled to believe what he was about to suggest. "Diego Chavez himself suggesting to table sex for a while? Who would have thought we'd see the day," she teased him, chuckling before giving him a small kiss and reaching up to caress his cheeks. "I agree, by the way. I think we should wait, too. It just... it wouldn't feel right here." This, what they had here now, the way they were lying so close to each other, felt more intimate and more important than any sex they could have in that moment.

"And maybe you feel like a teenager trying to get your first time right because in a way this is gonna be the first?" she suggested. "Obviously not in the same sense, but this feels like a start, a new beginning. And it's nice, that you wanna start it off right. Make sure we don't screw things off or rush into anything." A new beginning just for the two of them. And damn it, they deserved it, after all of the horrible shit they had to go through and all the ups and downs they went through.

_______________________

Gen called him 'darling' and it had been so long since she'd used any term of endearment on him, that Diego was struck by hearing it fall from her lips.  He absorbed it, impressed his moment into his memory even though the possibilities were high that she'd call him something sweet again.  More and more, even.  The idea was exciting, even one as simple as that.

The revelation had been so huge, but Diego felt so calm about it.  He wasn't afraid, and he didn't feel the need to mask any anxiety with intensity.  This was just them - bare, open, and raw.  Not because they were pulling off each other's clothes, but because they lay together, just looking at each other and talking.   That was more raw than anything else.

"You didn't do anything wrong either.  I think we just have a knack for poor timing, hm," he said, holding her chin gently to give her another kiss.  "But that's fine.  Even with...everything going on right now, we're still gonna do out best to make it work."  Diego said it like an statement for the both of them - and maybe that was a little presumptuous to speak for Gen as well, but he liked to think she agreed with him on this.  When gen threw herself into something, she did it whole-heartedly, accepting the wins as much as the loses.  And now, with everything said, perhaps she might even be able to gain more wins than loses.

"The Grub was your biggest win, after losing your first life," he observed, realized.  "It was successful and brought people together, and it kept you busy and happy.  No wonder you love that place so much.  I'm so sorry you had to leave it, Gen.  I'm sorry about you leaving all that you accomplished and everything you loved in your first life two, but I didn't know you then.  I know you were in your element, at the Grub.  You're gonna do it again.  You've gotten knocked off your feet before, but you'll get back up and do good things again."

He chuckled when Gen teased him, and leaned into her touch against his face.  "I know, I know.  But I guess you put the pious back in this old choir boy." This was all so tender and intimate. It was also rather sudden and yet it felt so natural.  Maybe because they'd kind of been down this road before, but never had a chance or the freedom to explore this far.  So it was retreading familiar territory but just...more of it.  Without trepidation.

Even if there was the possibility of this ending badly, those chances felt slimmer now.  At least, it did for Diego.

And the more Gen spoke, the more he believed she felt the same way.  "Aren't you poetic.  I like that though, yeah.  A new beginning.  It could...it could be.  I'm no spring chicken, Gen.  The older you get, the harder it gets to see a - a future with just anyone." He looked her in the eye, his expression tentative, if earnest.  "It has to be someone...who actually clicks."

_______________________

"Maybe..." Gen started, "maybe all that poor timing is what we needed." She didn't really believe in a lot of things, fate sometimes seemed to be more like something that people who didn't have anything else to grasp onto believed in (and sometimes she did feel like one of those people, but only sometimes), but if this is how it was meant to be, she could live with that. "All the fighting and all the miscommunication and time spent together and apart, maybe that's what we needed to make sure that when we got here, we could make it work."

Diego put the gist of what Gen was feeling about the Grub and why she was feeling it so well and so perfectly, she probably wouldn't have been able to put it this well, not right now at least. Mainly because the moment she thought about the Grub and how she didn't have it anymore, couldn't see it anymore, couldn't even go near it anymore, let alone talk to the people who worked for her, who came in every day, who brightened up her day and made her feel like she belonged in that diner, in that town - the undescribable grieve hit her all over again. For the diner, the people, the town, and everything else she's lost.

And while she appreciated Diego's trust and faith in her that she could do it all over again, she wasn't so sure of that anymore. She had built something up twice at this point - both so different, her business and career in New York being something she mostly did on her own and it was focused on her push and drive and need to be the best and get better and better while make a name for herself in her own field, while the Grub might have technically been something she did alone, too, but it was a community effort, she wouldn't have gotten anywhere without her employees and the people who came in. Two very different things and both of them snatched out of her hands along with her entire life. She wasn't sure she would be able to build anything like this ever again in fear of losing it all over again. And she was definitely certain she wouldn't be able to watch something else being taken away from her in the same fashion.

She knew the loss of the Grub and Sunnymead and everything and everyone else would at some point turn to nostalgia and to a loss that felt bearable, something that didn't feel like it could tear her apart at any moment, but the wound was still too fresh and she couldn't help the wave of sadness hitting her. Gen hated it. On any other day she would have dealt with it. Maybe not gracefully, but she would have, but she didn't want today to be about sadness. Not today. She just wanted to be happy and enjoy their little bubble just a little bit.

"Can we not--" She stopped for a moment, ducked her head to gather her thought before she looked back at him, a bittersweet smile on her face as she said. "I really appreciate everything you just said, I truly do, but can we not talk about it, just for now, please? I-- I don't want to be sad tonight. I just want to enjoy this and not think about anything else outside of this room." At least not anything that led to thinking about everything that was just left behind. "Maybe except for where do you think we would be going? And how it will all work? I did this once myself, but I assume it will be different going in with you."

There was an openness, a certain kind of truthfulness and tenderness in Diego's eyes, every look of his, every touch, every movement, that Gen hasn't seen before. She's seen fragments of it, she was sure of that, but never this openly and easily, and it brought a smile to her lips.

Him teasing and Gen let out a small chuckle at his choice of words. "Sure, you're not 20 anymore, but you're not that old either. Just... mature. And I happen to like mature," she leaned in to kiss him. His words stuck in her heart, though. It can only work with somebody who clicks with him. She clicked with him. Gen knew he was talking about her, obviously, he was talking about her, otherwise this would turn into a very awkward conversation, and even though he didn't specifically say it out loud, but her heart was melting. He saw a future with her. It really felt too good, too much like a dream. As if finally the universe realized just how much she went through and allowed her some happiness, too. Both of them.

It still felt too good to be true, though, and she couldn't help but ask, "This is real, right? I'm not going to wake up soon and realize all of this was just a really vivid, really well crafted dream my mind decided to tease and torture me with?"

_______________________

"Mm,"  Diego hummed, as Gen pointed out her own opinion, and he liked what he was hearing.  It wasn't exactly fate or destiny between them, but it was just something that happened because of everything they'd gone through.  They deserved this, didn't they?  Was it even a matter of deserving?  These were questions Diego couldn't answer, at least not right now.

And when Gen asked not to talk about things like the Grub, or memores of Sunnymead, Diego pulled her a little closer and kissed her brow.  "Of course, of course," he said, because she was right.  Despite this revelation coming to light, it hadn't meant anything really had changed around them.  Gen was still at risk, she was still transient and still playing the waiting game right now.  Small graces under so much bigger pressure and stress.  This wasn't the time to debrief about things she couldn't control, and didn't know how to process.  She had no security or stability right now, no foundation to rest on so that she could process.  So Diego just stroked her hair and arm, just letting the feeling of close intimacy wash over them like warm waves.

Eventually though, Gen had to ask questions, and Diego looked into her eyes again.  "No, I don't know.  Somewhere on the mainland of the United States. Probably not New York, or Texas," he said with a slight smile.  "Too obvious.  And we're likely not staying in California...I think the FBI Agent Karmeni said as much there.  But that leaves the rest of the states wide open.  I believe this time it will be more explicit though.  If we're going together, it's unlikely that we'll have to pretend to be strangers.  It would be too obvious.  But whatever they decide, it'll be fine, alright?  There's protocol for all of this, and we've been through it before.  It'll be fine."

Of course Diego wasn't sure of that, but he was reassuring himself as much as Gen.  Despite how out of control things got with Vivien Salazar showing up, he hoped they could regain some semblance of control now.  He couldn't help but add,  "Just please, for the love of god, listen to me when I ask you to do certain things.  You can argue all you want, but don't--"  He didn't want to bring up Gen driving to LA on her own steam, and not telling him.  But he had put the past in the past, and he wasn't going to dredge it back up.  "- don't do anything hasty. Trust in me."

Diego shook his head and muttered 'unbelievable' in grumpy amusement when Gen said she liked mature.  It sounded so ridiculous, but in an entirely endearing way.  He leaned in and kissed her, long and soft, almost luxurious.  As if they were perfectly fine, and this was just a lazy Sunday together with no cares in the world.  "No torture.  No dream.  For better or for worse, this is real, Genevieve Soto."

_______________________

Gen closed her eyes and leaned closer, burying her face into his shoulder and neck, focusing on his fingers on her hair and arms while she held onto him and got lost in the sensation. He couldn't just erase the pain she felt, nobody could do that, but damn it, this quiet and intimacy between them helped in such ways she never thought could be possible and she let it settle between them for a while before she spoke again.

She listened to his thoughts about where they would end up, and how the two of them would be didn't even cross her mind, and now she was wondering about that. They'd probably get assigned to be friends or something, though. Maybe they get a place together and then they would be roommates - that sounded like something the FBI would do. And then leave it to them to explain why they moved together as friends or something. Not that they couldn't handle it, lying was still something she was way too good at. And at least they'd be close to each other.

"Is it weird if I say that I hope we are not going into one of the big cities?" She never really thought she'd say this or even feel this. For so long all she wanted was to get back to New York, but now it somehow felt too big, too unfamiliar, too unknown. Small towns had communities that never really happened in big cities, not in the same way. And even if it was just for a small period of time, she wanted to go somewhere where she could feel okay. "I know it's gonna be fine, I am weirdly not that scared of that aspect of it.  I mean, I'm scared shitless, but that's more a general feeling about, well, everything. God, I'm not even sure if I make sense at this point. But my point is that you being there, knowing that definitely helps. A lot."

She could feel guilt rising in her at Diego's request. She kept promising him to do better, to communicate better and be a better team player, and she kept screwing up and doing stupid things and leaving out Diego in one way or another, endangering not only herself but him too (and even other people too, with her latest stupidity). And he was even trying to be nice about it, playing it down and calling it hasty instead of reckless and stupid.

"I close my eyes and I keep seeing Juliana tied to that chair, the way her wrists looked after I untied them and all the shit she said she had to go through while we got there. The way Vivien held the gun to your head. I was terrified and I-- all of that could have been avoided if I wasn't reckless and didn't go to LA. So I think it's safe to say that my reckless days are over. I can't-- I'm sorry it took me this long to understand just how big of an impact me not following the rules could get, but I'm done, I'm not going to object to what you tell me to do. I might argue about certain things, I can't promise you that I won't, but I promise I am done being hasty, as you put that so nicely."

Gen melted into the kiss and held onto Diego strongly, but gently at the same time. It was the kind of kiss that felt like as if they had all the time in the world to them - and now they had. Even when they started dating, it never felt like it would be something that could last, as good as it was it always felt like there was a ticking timebomb on the two of them, so even their quiet moments didn't feel like this, not quite, and to know that they really did have all the time in the world now - it was indescribable and it caused such a warm feeling in her entire body. They could and would be happy together.

"This is real," she echoed his words. "I hope you know I'm going to kill you if you turn out to be wrong," she added against his lips, her voice teasing. "I might ask you this same question a couple of more times, just a heads up." Probably especially during her low moments when her mind would spiral. After all this time, she knew how her brained worked and she was in a good place right now, but she knew it wouldn't last forever, not until she got some help at least, and she would feel like this was too good to be true or too good for her to deserve it. Well, she felt it now too, but in a good way.

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Never Knew I Needed You ~ Nunca Supe Que Te Necesitaba

Summary: (Pure fluff) Angel joins the reader in the bath to ask a very important question. 

Warning: None; unless you count cheesy writing or Disney music.

Word Count: 1,485

Disney Song:  Never Knew I Needed You

The clock read 7:30 PM, it was a Saturday night and you knew it would be a late one for Angel. They had templo every Saturday evening, sometimes for no reason other than to bullshit and catch up on business news. It was rare for you to see him before nine on any given Saturday, but you were okay with it, it was the life you chose to share and more often than not, he was home all day Sunday.

The house was clean, Angels dinner was in the fridge and there was nothing left on your ‘to-do list’ for the day. You made sure all the doors were locked, poured yourself a mimosa and made your way to the bathroom. You turned on your favorite Spotify playlist and ran a hot lavender Epsom salt bubble bath. Ever since you were a little girl bath's were your favorite pastime, your parents used to joke that you were a mermaid stuck on land. Grabbing an extra towel and washcloth you set them on the stool next to the tub, you lit the handful of candles that were arranged on the vanity and placed an additional two in the corner ends of the tub. Satisfied with the candle lighting you turned off the overhead lights and undressed.

Climbing in the tub you were meet with goosebumps all the way up your legs as you lowered yourself down. The water was steaming hot, the initial sting subsided as you laid back, your muscles melting in relaxation. Closing your eyes, you zoned out and focused on your breathing and listened to music softly in the background. Things had fallen into a routine since the deal between the Cartel and the Rebels; Angel couldn’t go into details just promised that things would be more mellow now. So far, his promise was being kept.

“Mi Amor?” Angel called out

“Bathroom.” You hollered back.

You heard the thumps of his footsteps down the hall and saw his shadow appear in the doorway.

“How was templo?” You asked.

“Good, how was your day?” He said coming to sit on the stool next to the tub.

“Decent, got the housework done, finished working reviewing last weeks invoices from the scrap yard. Dinner’s in the fridge for you. I can get out and warm it up for you.”

Angel smiled, “No, stay, relax. It can wait. Imma go grab a beer and come sit with you.”

You smiled at him. “Okay.”

He was gone only for a minute, returning with a beer in hand missing all his clothing but his boxers. Angel sat on the stool next to you and you held out your hand for his.

“No work tomorrow?” I asked.

“My only job tomorrow is showing you how much I love you.” He answered with a smile.

“Smooth,” I laughed.

“Pop asked if we’d come have dinner with him and EZ. I told EZ I’d talk to you but didn’t set anything in stone.”

“I’d love to have dinner with the whole Reyes family.” You smiled.

“I’ll call him in the morning.”

You sat in silence for a moment as he drank his beer. He stood up and placed a soft kiss to the top of my head. I looked at him confused as he picked up my phone, he skipped through a handful of songs before stopping on one and making his way to the tub.

“Scoot forward, mi amor.” He requested.

He stepped out of his boxers and climbed behind you in the tub. The water sloshed as he settled in behind you. Angel wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest; he hummed along to the beat of the music. You laughed when you finally noticed which song it was.

“You know this is from a Disney movie, right?” You smirked looking up at him.

He smiled, “shh, I won’t tell if you don’t. But if you do, I will deny it.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I love that my big bad biker is humming along to Disney music.”

“Just because it’s in a Disney movie doesn’t make it a Disney song.”  He said attempting to justify it.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night babes.” You said kissing his chin.

He hummed along to the song as you settled in, closing your eyes.

“He has it right though, ya know,” Angel said when the song ended, pulling your wet hair to one side of your neck.

“What’s that?” You asked

He kissed the top of your head, “You changed my plans, you’re the perfect distraction and are everything I have wanted and never knew I needed.” He gently kissed your neck, bringing a smile to your face. You recognized the choppy lyrics immediately. He spoke softly, this time he spoke slower and pulled you tighter to his chest. “You’re something I don’t wanna lose and never wanna be without ever again.” He placed another kiss to your neck. You could feel the smirk on his face as he kissed you a third time.

You sat up to see his face. “Angel,” you said softly in a questioning tone.

He was smiling from ear to ear.

“Are you?” You asked only partially getting the question out.

He kissed the tip of your nose, “Am I?” He questioned back with a smile.

You couldn’t spit the words out of your mouth, you knew he had been acting a little odd lately. You’d only been together a year; he couldn’t possibly be asking THE question, right? You thought to yourself.

He grabbed your hips and twisted you in the tub, so you were facing him. In this moment you were thankful that your tub was wider than average, you placed a leg on either side of him. Angel took both of your hands in his.

“I am telling you that I love you. That I don’t want to ever be without you again. The only way I know to do that is to ask you one favor.” He never broke eye contact with you. “Will you be my forever, (y/n). Will you be my wife?”

Tears welled up and brimmed over.  You shook your head yes, wiping at the tears.

He laughed softly, “Te amo, querida.”

You kissed him unable to say anything still, you let go of his hands and wrapped your own at the base of his neck pulling him closer to you. His hands came to rest on your hips as he deepened the kiss. Every emotion ran through you – excitement, fear, love, sadness for those who can’t experience it with you.

“Te amo, Angel.” You said breaking the kiss.

“You still haven’t really answered me.” He smiled leaning his forehead to yours.

“Yes, sí, I do, I will,” You smiled, “how many forms of the same word do I need.”

He kissed you again. “If Bishop or Riz asks, I didn’t do it this way,” Angel said with a smirk. “They said if I was going to do it, I better do it right. There is a ring, but it’s in my kutte.”

You laughed, “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to be able to hide the fact that you purposed to me naked, in a bathtub while listening to a Disney song.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, “Babes, you’re gonna kill my image.”

You laughed, “Oh sweetheart, your image was blown a year ago when you fumbled over yourself when I stitched you up after Riz busted your eye open.”

He smiled, “That was a shitty night. Meeting you was the only thing that made it bearable.”

“Do Felipe and EZ know already too?” I asked,

Angel nodded yes, “I had to ask someone how to purpose.”

You laughed, “hence the family dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes, pops wants to be the first one to welcome you into the Reyes family and be the first to see mama’s ring on your finger.”

You smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth. “The club isn’t going to try and weasel that stupid saying into your vows, are they?”

He laughed, “I promise to treat you as good as my leather and ride you as much as my Harley?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Um, yeah, that.”

“Nah, that’s a SAMCRO thing.”

“Oh, thank god.” You replied with a sigh of relief.

“But since you clearly feel so strongly about it, I think we could implement it.” He said with a wink.

“Don’t you start with me, Mr. Reyes.” You replied smiling.

“I love you, future Mrs. Reyes.”

You beamed at the sound of the words that came out of his mouth. “I like the sound of that.”

“Mrs. Reyes.” He said again placing a kiss on your check.

“For the record, it’s still a Disney song.” You said while he was leaned into you.

Angel splashed you. “Whatever,” he laughed.

Thanks for reading! 

Work is also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259728

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 16 -- The Trade-off

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

Back in the infirmary, Prescott was pitching an absolute hissy fit about his treatment aboard, as though he had high expectations for the level of comfort that was generally afforded to those taken prisoner by pirates.

He was, of course, actually being treated pretty well by those standards. He was in a relatively comfortable hospital bed and had been left in complete control of its inclination. His captors provided him with adequate food, he was given prompt and free medical attention, and his bed was facing a small hologram crystal playing a marathon of Deimos, P.I. reruns.

This is, of course, not to say that he should have been grateful. Far from it, in fact, he was being held captive and had every right to be incredibly angry, and he exercised that right to its fullest. It was, however, somewhat ridiculous for someone in his position to be making outlandish demands of Cookie, like “a glass of sparkling water every hour on the hour, with fresh-cut limes and a bowl of cucumbers on the side.”

Without fail, Cookie brought him the same bowl of plain oatmeal and glass of non-sparkling tap water, devoid of limes, in response to every request. She was a consummate professional, but she had her limits, and after the third or fourth time he asked for an array of bagel chips and berry-infused cream cheese spreads, Cookie began responding by putting a little more tap water in his oatmeal. This wouldn’t diminish the amount of food he got, but would effectively ruin its texture, which is about the only thing plain oatmeal has going for it.

This was, in Cookie’s mind, a shame. His requests were things she’d actually love to try her hand at, but she, like most people on the station after only a few days, absolutely could not stand Prescott, who was this insufferable even when he was not being held against his will. She had no interest in giving him anything he wanted, or interacting with him beyond her captain’s orders.

“Keep him alive, he knows something about that cult and we’re gonna need all the information we can get to save those girls.”

On this particular day, Cookie was overwhelmingly relieved to hear that she could have the afternoon off from Prescott Duty, since Ariadne would be bringing him his lunch personally.

Ariadne entered the room quietly, placed his tray on the table next to him, loosed his restraints, and muted the Val Deimos marathon.

She was dressed down, barefoot in a pair of stylish denim shorts and a loose-fitting black t-shirt. Her mechanical legs were nowhere to be seen and her spider-like goggles were replaced with the rectangular wireframe glasses she wore when she wasn’t working.

Prescott was dressed in a hospital gown, which is how he’d been dressed since he’d been staying there, and looked rather greasy, which is how he usually looked anyway.

“What is this?” He asked after a beat.

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you from my good friend Mingxia,” Ariadne explained. “You’re a good liar, I’m told, and you always act in your own self-interest.”

Prescott didn’t have much of a response to this, but he still opened his mouth in the hopes that one would come out anyway. It did not.

“I want you to know that it’s in your best interest not to lie to me. See, I decided a few days ago that we should let you go. It wasn’t a popular decision, see, Spacebreather and Sweettalk both want you dead, and I should stress that this is the first thing I’ve ever known them to agree on. We tried to keep word of your past, shall we say, missteps from spreading to the crew, but we’re on a ship full of teenagers and you know how rumors spread. Now, they’re all dying to get a piece of you. So, at the end of this conversation, I’m going to give you your freedom, I want you to understand that. If you tell me what I want to hear, you and I can walk to telepad together and we’ll send you on your way, wherever you want. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll be forced to let you walk to the telepad by yourself, and I should warn you, I can’t make promises about how my crew will treat you when I’m not there to protect you.”

Prescott scoffed, “you really expect me to cooperate with that? Talk or my crew kills you?”

“Oh, they won’t kill you,” Ariadne replied calmly. “But, if I’m with you, I can order our physician to waive your medical debt.”

“Debt?” Prescott asked, “You expect me to pay her for reattaching my fingers after you kidnapped me?”

“Oh, no, nothing so complex as money,” Ariadne laughed. “But, Sasha gave you three fingers, which you didn’t have when she found you. The price for that is any useful information you have on the Red God cult. Give us that, and you’ll walk out of here without a scratch. Otherwise, my first mate has been authorized to repossess the medical services you’ve rendered during your stay here.”

“Repossess— you’re going to cut off my fingers again if I don’t tell you what I know?!”

“Of course not!” Ariadne chuckled. “Spacebreather’s going to cut off your fingers again if you don’t tell me what you know. And, with interest, plus the cost of oatmeal… well, let’s just say you won’t have to worry about losing extremities to frostbite anymore.”

“This is insane,” Prescott snapped, “this is a shake-down.”

“Brilliant observation,” Ariadne said. “Start talking.”

“I’m not going to go along with this just because you’re trying to intimidate me.”

“Yes, you are. You know full well that you deserve every shitty thing that’s happened to you in the past week, and more importantly, you’re a coward and you don’t want to risk anything bad happening to you.”

Prescott considered this for a moment. He was a coward and even he had the self-awareness to know he could not truthfully say that he hadn’t done at least one thing to earn every misfortune of the past week.

“I’ve got something that might be helpful,” he started, “but there’s something I want in return.”

“We already established what you get in return, suge, you’re not much in a position to be making demands.”

“No, you’ve gotta understand— I was their security provider. I didn’t do a great job, granted, but you can’t exactly hire someone to guard your secrets without letting that person in on a few of them. What I’m trying to say is, I know something big about the Zealot. A silver bullet secret, one that can take down the whole cult in the right hands.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“You ever wonder why everyone who visits those life centers converts to their religion? I know how he’s doing it and how to reverse it. You ever wonder why he disappeared a few years back? I know where he went. Got any clue why he’s got three little girls with mind control chips in their heads? I do! Get me what I want and it’s all yours.”

This was not a compelling case for why Ariadne should believe him. He did sound sure of himself, however, he had also been a confidence trickster for most of his life. “Give me some hard evidence what you’re telling me is true and we can talk about what you want.”

“A lot of people know the Zealot was a scientist before all of this started. That’s part of how his crazy movement got so much credibility in the first place. He liked to keep his true name under wraps, though. Didn’t want anyone looking into the subject of his research. His old name still showed up on the security invoices, though, even though he made me sign some bullshit non-disclosure agreement. Of course, people didn’t really need to know who he was or what he’d been authoring papers about to trust that he knew what he was talking about. He said he was a scientist, and people are sheep. It reminds me of an old test called the Milgram—”

“If you don’t get to the point I may actually cut you.”

Prescott looked genuinely hurt. “It’s an interesting experiment…” he muttered, then continued. “Anyway, only a select few people actually know his name from back before he was the Zealot. I trust you’ve heard of Dr. C. Alexander Simon?”

“I feel like you know I haven’t.”

“Why don’t you use that antique hologram to look him up? See what he’s supposed to be up to today? Put that thing to some good use instead of just streaming Cop Dramas all day.”

“Fine,” Ariadne shrugged, and turned to pull up information on Dr. Simon on the holoscreen, “also, Val Deimos isn’t a cop, she’s a former cop who quit the force and became a P.I. because of corruption in the…” Ariadne trailed off as the information loaded. The photograph of Dr. Simon was unmistakably the same person as the photo La Pesadilla had given them.

“Yeah, because Santa Helena is a hotbed of corruption and not a quaint suburb. This show is ridiculous.”

“No, shut up, I’m reading.” Ariadne hushed him and furrowed her eyebrows as she struggled to comprehend what she was reading. “This doesn’t make sense, according to this he’s supposed to be—”

“Yeah, look up what he’s famous for, should be the section marked ‘Controversy and Disgrace.’”

“Oh my g—” Ariadne’s eyes widened in shock. “Did he actually do it?”

“I suspect he’s very close.”

“This is all very enlightening,” Ariadne responded, “but I still don’t see how this is a silver bullet that’s going to destroy the cult and break whatever spell he’s got over his followers.”

“You get that after I get what I want.”

Ariadne huffed in annoyance. “And what do you want?”

Prescott gritted his teeth. “I want my money back.”

Five minutes later, Ariadne and a now fully-dressed-but-still-handcuffed Prescott entered the war room where Sasha and Sweettalk were intently playing a game of chess, and Spacebreather was equally intently playing a game of darts.

So they could all hear, Ariadne announced, “Meet me in the briefing room in 20 minutes, we’re going to help Prescott rob a casino.”

“What?!” Sweettalk practically spat in reply.