#hopefully nigel catches it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sea-side-scribbles · 3 years ago

Text

Behind The Mask

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34851811/chapters/89348347

Chapter 10

Nick woke up, feeling wrapped into a silky-smooth cloud that he recognised from his past. An arm was put around him, giving him a warm and fuzzy feeling. It wasn't a dream. He was with Morrie. He heard his lover's steady breath. Morrie was still asleep. He had to be very tired, the poor thing.

Nick carefully craned his neck to give his lover a beatific look. He didn't mind snoozing some more. He didn't want to leave anyway. Morrie holding him close was the best feeling he had for years. Everything he did in the past few days had been dedicated to this, and now that he reached his goal he couldn't believe it himself. Unwittingly, he tightened his embrace.

A moment later, Morrie stirred, probably woken up by Nick's sudden movement. For a while, the two men looked at each other, then Morrie cracked a smile and nudged Nick's nose with a finger what sent a shiver through Nick's body. “Good morning”, Morrie whispered. “How long did you wait?” “I'm not waiting”, Nick said, caressing the other man's upper body. “I like it here.” Morrie took a deep breath and stretched a bit, as far as he could in his position. “What time is it?”, he then asked. “No idea”, Nick answered without moving a muscle.

“I guess I haven't slept that long for ages”, Morrie said, but not in an upset way. “Why not?” Nick was happy to feel the other man's hands on his head again. He loved to be fondled. “Because I never had a reason...” Morrie gave the man in his arms a soft glance. Then he kissed his hair. Nick slid closer so their lips could meet. Morrie held him and let him wrap a leg around him. Tangled like this, they kissed and petted each other. When the pianist broke free from Nick's lips, he leaned his cheek against the other man's forehead. “Nigel...”, he whispered. His expression was full of love. Nick promptly answered with a quiet “Morrie...”, careful not to give himself away.

How often had he sighed, whispered or purred the name even in his dreams?

He didn't see that Morrie was about to become speechless once again. After catching himself, he asked: “How about a nice fry-up to revive our spirits? Or a sweet one, if you prefer?” Nick viewed him. “I take this sweetie right here”, he decided pressing himself against Morrie and kissing him. “Thanks.” Morrie gave a quiet and flattered laughter. “Oh, Nigel...” Nick let him stroke his back helplessly, before he said: “I see, you want to leave this bed.” Why did Morrie have to be so active in the morning?

“Aren't you hungry, little one?”, Morrie tried. “I don't now...I'm not so much for breakfast without coffee...” “Who said you won't get any coffee from me?” Nick looked at him. “I thought you can't risk it...” “Ah, I think you earned a treat today. I'll brew it from fresh beans, you'll like it.” “Oh, Morrie....” Nick beamed. The pianist gave him an amused look. “You have to let me out of the bed though...” Nick pouted but let go. “Alright.” “Would you mind if I took a shower first?” Nick denied and went for the guest bathroom himself, praising his disguise that had withstood all odds this far. It wouldn't have to do for much longer.

The shower did him good. This was a wonderful morning anyway. He was doing everything right. He praised himself for facing Morrie and his past, for daring to win his heart back. One step was left. He felt more excited the more he thought about it. A fresh coffee would hopefully help him to make up a good plan.

Leaving the bathroom, he could smell the delicious hot drink. He followed the scent into the kitchen where Morrie already awaited him. Nick greeted him with another passionate kiss. His lover didn't manage to say a word while he busied himself with a pan of scrambled eggs. He spoke again to ask what he wanted in his coffee and Nick went for milk. Morrie nodded. “You better take some more than you're used to. Fresh coffee is stronger than this instant stuff.” Nick grinned and winked. “I'll be fine.”

Morrie paused for a moment. “I'm doing it again,right?”, he asked meekly, wiping his forehead. Nick tilted his head. “Doing what?” The other man sighed deeply. “I'm treating you like a child, am I not? Ever since we met...” “No, you care about me. I like you like this.” “Just...tell me when I'm going too far, okay?” He gave him a pleading look. “Morrie...” “Really, I...” Morrie averted his gaze. “I shouldn't treat you like this...you're not...” Nick walked closer, gently touched his upper arms and rested his head on his shoulder. Morrie leaned his head against his, closed his eyes and remained like that for a while.

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “I saw him fall apart right before my eyes...I watched a grown man turn into a helpless child, day after day...And I couldn't do anything...It was getting worse every day. He couldn't do anything on his own...He destroyed himself and I tried to help...I have to forget about this...But I can't...” Nick shoved his arms forward, turning the touch into a tight embrace. “I'm sorry...”, he whispered. “I promise I won't be this kind of person...” Morrie took his arms and squeezed them, taking another deep breath and closing his eyes again. “It's so strange...If Murray didn't see you too, I'd believe you're not real...”

The pianist slowly freed himself from Nick's embrace and turned around. “You look so much like him...the way you move...the way you look at me...” Nick stared back. He was sure he only confirmed what Morrie said, but he couldn't help it. The other man suddenly looked away, furrowing his brows. “I'm sorry...I didn't have my Joy yet...I should really take one...Excuse me...” He left and Nick made no move to stop him. It was fine. Morrie would remember him, he was certain.

They ate their breakfast in deep harmony. At first, Nick missed holding Morrie's hand but he got it eventually. They couldn't get through washing up without exchanging touches and kisses. While searching for a reason to extend his visit, Nick recalled he had a camera and persuaded the pianist of a little photo session. For the story, of course.

When their goodbye was imminent, Nick pulled Morrie into a long, wistful hug. Morrie patted his back. “Nigel...are you alright?” “Yeah...I'm just so happy...” “Me too...”

When they let go, Morrie asked: “Will you see me tonight?” “Sure”, Nick whispered. “I'll play a song for you.” Nick felt a pleasant tingle in his stomach. “Can't wait...” Morrie cupped his head. “Thank you for walking into my life...I still can't believe it...” Nick blinked. “You know...I can't either...If I'm dreaming, please don't wake me up...” The other man pondered. Such strong feelings from a man he just met a week ago. He sensed that they had a strong connection, but he didn't know why. As if Nigel was a friend he once forgot. But that was impossible...

“Do we know each other?”, he blurted out. Nick gave him a confused look. “You know me, I'm Nigel.” “I mean, did we meet before? Some time in the past?” Nick shook his head. “I've seen at a lot of your shows, but I'm sure you didn't see me.” “I must've been blind...” Morrie dragged him into a passionate kiss.

Nick reluctantly left his lover and focused on the plan he still needed. However, his delighted mind told him that he could do no wrong. Strutting though the Avalon hotel, he didn't notice that somebody was following him.

Murray had recognised the reporter and was glad to see him being happy. He intended to approach him, have a little chat. Also, he was curious why Nigel entered in the hotel already. Was Morrie here too? Or did he want to keep the room? The hotel manager became more curious when Nigel entered the second floor. He was still asking himself if this was any of his business when the reporter suddenly walked into Nick Lightbearer's suite. He even had the key. Murray didn't only wonder, he also got a queasy feeling in his stomach. Leaving the corridor, he told himself multiple times that there could be a simple explanation, that it was a savvy trick to get at the rockstar's dirty secrets and that Morrie knew about it. He distracted his mind as good as he could, forced himself to calm down until he could finally talk to the pianist in the evening.

Morrie, who appeared to be in a good mood, turned wary again when he saw Murray's expression. “What happened?” “It's probably nothing, but...” The manager hemmed and hawed while he led the pianist into his office. He searched for words whereas Morrie watched him with concern. Finally, he brought out: “Did you make up a plan to get at Nick's secret? You and Nigel, I mean.” “Er...no, we didn't. My memories were enough. Why do you ask? Are you up to something?” Murray helplessly gestured. “Not me, but...” He slouched his shoulders. “Alright...I watched Nigel walk into Nick's suite today.” Morrie stared at him. “Nick's suite? Are you sure?” “It was the Wonderland Suite.” “And you're sure it was Nigel?”, Morrie urged him.

“Absolutely. I found him in the corridor and I went to ask him how he's doing and...I have to admit I followed him for a while...I was curious...Wanted to make sure there wasn't another party somewhere...But that...I never would've guessed.” “Did Nick say something to him?” “No...Nick didn't show up. Nigel had the key.” Morrie felt like someone pulled the rug from under his feet. He wiped his neck as a pointless gesture and eyed the floor. It matched so perfectly: the melody that somehow found it's way into Nick's new song...Nigel, who was musical himself, could surely recite it...

To Nigel's defence, Murray tossed in: “He could break in to seek for evidence...It would be bold and he should've told you about it, but...” But it was a better option than betrayal. “Yeah..he should've told me...”, Morrie said quietly. He still felt betrayed. Nigel should've told him how close he'd come to Nick. The fact that he didn't aroused his worst fears. “Do you see him tonight?” Murray asked carefully. “Yeah...”, Morrie sighed. His voice was husky. “I could talk to him”, his friend offered. “No, thanks...I have to do that myself.”

As Morrie turned around to leave, Murray grabbed him by the shoulders. “Chin up, Morrie...It's gonna be alright...” The pianist gave a half-hearted smile. His optimism was exhausted. He knew he'd be a nervous wreck until the matter was sorted.

Later, a cheerful Nick entered the bar. He was ready. Morrie was warming up, so it sounded. He seemed to be undecided about what song he'd play. Probably nervous, the good soul. Nick approached him to greet him and bolster him up. The pianist raised his head when Nick's hands stroked his back. He didn't return the smile, he rather quickly turned away and got up, escaping the caressing hand.

“Come”, he hissed at him and went into the side room. Nick guessed that Morrie wanted to avoid any watchers and would greet him affectionately in the empty room. As soon as the door was closed, he tried to kiss Morrie, but the other man gruffly shoved him away. When Nick didn't make another pass and instead gave him a puzzled look, Morrie crossed his arms. “Is there something you have to tell me?” His voice was too quiet for comfort. Nick's heart sunk. What the hell went wrong now?

“Uh...maybe..Depends on what you're getting at...”, he returned. “Nothing else?”, Morrie snapped. “What's wrong, Morrie? Come on, tell me”, Nick pressed for it. “Don't leave me in the lurch here.” His lover shook his head and turned away. “Why aren't you honest to me, Nigel? If you were, you'd tell me! It's important, you know? You should've told me long ago!” His voice was filled with anger and frustration. Nick frantically searched for a way to gain the upper hand here. “Don't be like that, Morrie. I actually want to tell you something.” Morrie stared at him. “Wha...? Why didn't you say that in the first place? Don't you see how serious this is?” “Could be that it's not the same...” Morrie lost his patience. “Just spill already!”

An awkward pause ensued. “O-kay”, Nick said slowly, looking around in the room. This didn't go the way he had planned, but it wasn't the first time in his chaotic life he had to improvise. He decided to get as close to his plan as possible and let his charm do the rest. That didn't mean that his heart wasn't racing right now. “How about we pick a more comfy place first? This is rather depressing.” He pointed at the dirty walls. “For all I care...”, Morrie said surlily. At least it was a 'yes'.

Nick was happy to leave the room that awoke too many bad memories. They needed to seek out the good ones, so he went into the park again and picked a secluded, romantic spot behind the high hedges. He gestured Morrie to sit down on a ornamented stone bench and took a seat next to him. “Okay...” He clenched his fingers to fists and then stretched them again. “Uh...I'm a little nervous...” He took a deep breath while Morrie watched him in silence.

“First, I have to thank you. This week was the best I had for a very long time...I never thought...you'd be so good to me...That you...give me a chance...I want to spend more weeks like this with you.” Morrie fought with himself. This conversation took a completely different turn, what made him doubt his thoughts. Still, he knew he wouldn't be in the mood for romance until he knew the truth. “You liked it, huh?”, he asked awkwardly. “Yes, very much.” Nick sensed that Morrie's mood changed and went on: “I want to be with you, Morrie...I thought you feel the same...” Morrie's heart seemed to cramp. How could pain and love feel so alike? He'd love to forget this stupid incident and clasp Nigel in his arms. And yet, he was about to grab and shake him.

“Morrie?” Nigel interrupted his rambling mind. This worried look out of green eyes...With a touch of sadness. Suddenly he had the feeling that he was breaking Nigel's heart. “Yeah...you're right...”, he admitted. “You turned by life upside down...I don't know how I kept up without you.” Nick's heart filled with euphoria. “I won't change, Morrie! I'll fulfil your every wish! But first, I have to tell you one thing...” He clenched his fists again and let out a sigh. “Why is this so hard?”

Morrie eyed him. “Nigel, where is this going?” Nick grasped his hand. “Don't be afraid, Morrie”, he whispered. “It's gonna be alright.” With that, he sank down on his knees, making the white gravel quietly scrunch. “Close your eyes”, he said, still holding Morrie's hand. “Why?” Morrie thought this scene became eerie. “Trust me, Morrie. You'll like it.” The other man read in his eyes that he said the truth. Or that he believed it to be the truth.

When Morrie's eyes were closed, Nick got rid of the wig and, for a better effect, the mask as well. He paused for a while, bracing himself for this moment.

“Now you can open them again”, he whispered. For a moment, nothing happened except for Morrie's eyes scanning him. The man's expression was full of confusion and also shock. “Nigel, what does that mean? Did you dye your hair?” Nick silently pointed at the wig in the gravel. Morrie's face grew pale. “How...How can you look like him? What are you doing to me, Nigel?” He sprang to his feet, his hands were shaking. Nick stood up as well and touched Morrie's upper arms. “This is my true face”, he said softly.

Morrie tore away from him. “How can you be him? Isn't he...aren't you not...Nick? Did I mistake you for someone else?” He was upset. Nick realized this was even harder than he thought. His lover sank back on the bench, hands clutching the stony seat. “You have to explain this to me.”

Nick knelt back down. “I am Norbert for you...But for the most people, I'm Nick. And I was also Nigel, just for you.” Morrie stared at the man that looked like a ghost from the past. “You were Nigel...” “Yes, for you...” Nick unwittingly grabbed his hair. “But you are also Nick...” “Yeah.” Morrie had to repeat it. “You're Nick.” “Yes.” “You're not Nigel.” “Well, I was, so I could talk to you...” Nick had to admit that this wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. “Nigel isn't real.” “He's me,” Nick said, searching the other man's eyes for anything other but shock.

Morrie got up. All eeriness had vanished from the scene and he faced the cold, spiteful reality. And he realized he didn't want this. He wanted to go back to his wonderful dream, to the man that found and loved him dearly. Without saying another word, he quickened his pace to escape from this hell. He felt like drowning in the cold when a cruel hand grabbed him and pulled him back. “Morrie?”, the hated voice said. He shoved the man away with all his strength. “Let me go! Don't you have any conscience? This is the worst you could've done to me!”, he shrieked. Nick who had fallen on the ground, struggled back onto his feet. Morrie pushed him back down.

“Morrie, I did this for us!”, Nick cried, but the other man didn't listen. He felt exposed, horribly exposed in the most embarrassing way. All his hopes and dreams of the last few days turned out to be nothing but the foolish illusions of a lonely, broken man. Thinking he could be loved again just the way he was, that somebody would find him and give him a second chance, that he could finally let his past behind...All that would never happen. Nick had demonstrated it in the cruellest way possible, arousing his dearest dreams and destroying them with a wink. He noticed now that he was still screaming at Nick and paused to shakily catch a breath.

“I just wanted you to listen to me!”, Nick pleaded. “You hated me so much you wouldn't believe a word I said! I couldn't bear this any longer! I had to keep Nick out of this! I needed to show you that I can be a better person! That I can make you happy!...” “But you can't!”, Morrie interrupted him. “All you can do is lie and hurt and destroy! Break hearts and trample on people's feelings! And you stole my song!” Nick tried to stand up, but Morrie darted at him. He pressed him down, with his knees on Nick's arms and his hands at his throat. “Confess! Just confess already!” Nick fumbled with Morrie's grip. The other man frightened him.

“Morrie, I...I wrote this song for you...”, he gasped. “To taunt me?” Morrie pressed harder. “Did you think I'd like that? Are you fucking kidding me, Nick?” He spat the name into his face. “No, I thought...I thought we'll play it together...” “You think I beg you to take me back?” “No...” The gravel cut into his neck. Also his back hurt. He feared Morrie would choke him to death here and now. Tears welled in his eyes. “Just listen to it...It's a lovesong...I love you, Morrie.” He sobbed and gasped for air. “I just wanted us to be together again...”

Morrie watched the crying and struggling man for a while, then he jumped up as if he was disgusted. “You only love yourself”, he concluded bitterly before he hurried out of the park. Nick shouted after him, but he didn't turn back. He was still trying when Morrie was out of sight. Exhausted, he remained lying on the ground. He only got up when he felt cold, picked up the mask and the wig and trudged back into the hotel.

#behind the mask fanfiction #we happy few #wehappyfew #whf #nick lightbearer #whf nick #whfnick #nicklightbearer #morrie memento #nickxmorrie #nick x morrie #whfmorrie #whf morrie #murray davis #morrie & murray #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

omgkalyppso · 3 years ago

Note

If you would like prompts: “ you didn’t think we’d just abandon you, did you? ” for the FE3H ot4

Thank you for the ask! Spoilers for up to the end of fe3h Verdant Wind chapter 15. Fae-as-a-student-AU. If I posted this on ao3 I might have to use the Graphic Violence tag. Discussions of blood and "traumatic" axe injury. 4,011 words below the cut. Hurt/Comfort. I did the BAREST read through for errors when I was done. Njal is pronounced like Nigel from what I understand.

Wyverns in general were fast, adding onto that that Claude did not fly in predictable — or even sane — patterns, Ashe was relieved that it might fall to someone else to strike at the Alliance leader. Astride his horse in a battle like this, he was expected to keep moving, to keep at range of the ground enemies and to focus on the flyers while trusting in his allies to keep him safe. He had no shortage of targets to pick from. Each arrow was loosed with an apology; under the heel of the Empire, there was little choice but to stand with Faerghan soldiers even in circumstances like this: where old friends were enemies, even unto Byleth, a miraculous beacon of hope ... but not for him, not today while the smell of blood, and sweat ,and sulfur riled the horses to disobedience and the heat burned at his eyes and his lungs.

He watched a Kingdom soldier plummet from the sky, screaming, and strengthened his resolve.

He loosed an arrow into the auburn Alliance wyvern's side, catching where the shoulder met wing, and watched. Easily it could have been swat away at the last second, but a moment's attention revealed the wobble in the creature's flight, not easily compensated. Assessing the field, he made sure to tread back, away from magical fire and lighting which scorched and blinded where the world was thin with molten earth, praying for Gwendal and the others.

"Easy girl," Hilda cooed. The cry of her wyvern had made it obvious she was struck, and the way she moved afterwards led Hilda to glance towards the injury. She couldn't see where Braith's wing was hurt from her vantage on her back, but Ailell was hardly a place to land, where more archers with worse aim and unpredictable footing painted a dangerous landscape. The battle seemed to be going in their favor anyway, she simply had to—

Braith wailed in pain again. Another arrow must have found some space between her scales.

Hilda recalled landing between a demonic beast and Marianne some years ago, and her last draconic companion, Njal, had spread one wing out around Marianne protectively, obscuring her escape and exposing his side to an arrow that had cut deep, and then the lance that had finished him.

She hadn't thought she'd fly again afterwards, yet here she was, in a worse predicament, losing the two wyvern riders she'd been pursuing and risking the life of a creature that knew nothing but loyalty.

"Almost through," Hilda shouted, "and then we'll rest okay! A nice, long nap somewhere cool!"

They were losing altitude, but not at a speed that worried her. Shew knew her enemies would come down to meet them, and she would be ready.

A horrible shrill cry pierced the battlefield, and Hilda quickly found where Byleth had cut through the horse supporting a bow knight. One less worry.

Looking up, she saw where Claude had jumped from his white wyvern, a daredevil who made all who relied on him sick with worry, but somehow he managed, even now. An arrow burst through the enemy rider, red against the pale sky, and Claude caught himself on the heel of his looping companion, climbing back in place.

Hilda had Braith push them backwards with a heavy push of her wings, having caught sight of the riders that had been her responsibility, diving towards them.

And now Claude was busy, and their allies were far, and Lysithea was back at Garreg Mach with Thyrsus, needing to defend their camp for them to have anywhere to go with the supplies they'd meant to secure. That they had secured, likely.

"Claude!" Hilda called uselessly, needing someone to be aware of her predicament at least, as she leaned Braith into her injury to avoid one enemy, and then held her axe in both hands to hold fast against the swing of the following enemy's weapon. She and Braith dipped under the weight of the collision, the loud clang of ringing metal lost amidst similar noises in the battle below. Her enemy had screamed at least; a twisted wrist and a bit of humility might keep him away.

The remaining enemy was rising again however, and at a pace that Braith wouldn't be able to match. She heard Claude whistle, and instinctively moved towards the noise, a signal for a formation, and hopefully a sign that he might have an arrow ready.

Turning back to face her enemy, she saw that nothing had changed, and caught a glimpse of silhouettes on the horizon. Endless strife and empty promises.

"You're really making us work for it!" she shouted for Claude's benefit, unsure if he'd missed or if there was yet something she hadn't seen. She spun Braith towards their allies, and imagined it might look like a downward spiral, but she needed to be closer. Could Ignatz hear her from here? Could Lorenz reach? What of Fae, or Byleth?

Braith whined, long and steady.

"It's alright—"

But it wasn't. Working without injury, their enemies were faster, and swooped down from behind them at an angle, so the rider was hanging sideways off his beast while Hilda held one arm around Braith's neck, her other holding her axe at her side. She moved to parry, but too slow, and their weapon cut deep into her curve of her hip.

The weapon hurt more coming out than it had going in, and she screamed like a banshee as the enemy rider continued on his way, a stream of red, and ribbons, and viscera following his path. She felt the weight of her humanity for a moment, the awareness of her physical body, distant from her injury while at the same time overwhelmed by it, the pain and ... was she afraid? Was that fear?

Claude turned away for a moment, hearing a scream from his side of the battlefield, but based on the arrangement of enemies, he suspected it was only someone crying out in the shock and horror that was still settling in the back of his mind. Hilda was too far, and falling too fast. Was she ali— Was she conscious?

The enemy wyvern lord Hilda had been engaged with looped around again, and Claude readied his bow, too late to save Braith, as blood drenched the rider, his wyvern biting her around the jaw while the rider stabbed a pike at the top of his axe up into her throat. Red painted a clear target against the heat vents spewing smoke from the scorched earth below, and it felt like all he saw, unable to look down.

Hilda was plummeting, and Marianne was screaming, and there was still no clear path through the battlefield. Lorenz pulled on the reins of his horse and skipped a few paces back to Marianne, holding out a hand to her. She still had her hands poised as if prepared to cast a spell, but where and to what end seemed lost to her.

"Marianne."

He hadn't intended to be so firm, but she nodded and stepped atop his foot, accepting his help in being pulled up ahead of his saddle. If Hilda had survived, she would need healing soon.

Lorenz nodded quickly towards Linhardt and Ignatz, busy in the back of their formation, before turning his horse again to face Dukedom soldiers.

Fae, Zoran, Leonie and Caspar held something of a line, their battalions notwithstanding, while Raphael was engaged with Count Rowe; two mountainous men with drastically different styles of combat. Byleth was somewhere on the other side of the enemies, darting from target to target through blind spots and moments of inattention; their leadership was sorely absent after battle had begun.

Lorenz convinced himself that he wasn't taking charge, that he was simply creating an opening, as he called to first his own men, brought from Gloucester to Garreg Mach and now into this blistering inferno, and then to his friends. He wondered if they followed his signal to initiate a Gambit because of trust or adrenaline. Zoran was lifting a member of a battalion away from the stampede, and Lorenz was relieved that this showed some insight on behalf of his allies. It just felt like they were spinning their wheels.

Though perhaps that was what was needed, as their efforts saw their line pushed forward, just enough, for him and Marianne to ride onwards, between pools of fire.

Another cry sounded from behind, and while initially Lorenz tried to look back, Marianne leaned across him, and he was fully occupied with maiden and reins in hand.

Marianne clasped a hand over her mouth before she spoke, and Lorenz feared the worst.

"Count Rowe is dead," she said suddenly, and large brown eyes sought Lorenz's gaze. "Byleth's... They cut him down from behind."

Fae stood, still ready, as all fighters had their eyes on Byleth. They suspected that like them, their allies were waiting to see if Byleth's orders would change, and their enemies were assessing whether to pursue the fight.

A horn sounded, and without the immediate rush of battle the clanking of armor in the distance was obvious, as Daphnel banners rose over of the hill.

The Dukedom soldiers dropped their weapons.

"Accept those who surrender," Byleth ordered. "Ashe too."

"Ashe?" echoed Caspar, as a grey haired man with a broken arm staggered southward.

Byleth nodded in response. "Watch them closely."

Fae and Caspar shared a look with their allies, and left Leonie and Raphael to sort out the closer soldiers, as they raced towards their old schoolmate, and Byleth ran for Claude.

To say it was worse than Lorenz had feared would have been a lie. That did nothing to ease the pain and guilty revulsion of helping a crying Marianne lay Hilda flat from how her body had twisted and torn from the axe wound and the impact. However, trembling, Marianne had said she was breathing, and that had been enough for him to press his hand on delicate blood soaked skirts, and do his part.

Not for the first time, he lamented that his magical expertise hadn't leaned this way. He found defense to be useless when it failed, while faith felt so much gentler.

Marianne was not gentle. Such as Lorenz had never seen in her, she was slow, and broken, and aching as she tried to cut Hilda's clothing free of the wound with intention to not heal the fabric into something vital, but this just caused blood to pool faster and in larger quantities.

Nervously, and without ceremony, she pressed nimble fingers into the opening she'd made, and white light shone through the dark wet fabric as Marianne sobbed as she forced healing magic into the injury.

"Lorenz, I ca— I can't do this."

"Marianne, please."

"But it's Hilda," Marianne objected elbow twitching as she turned her head away, biting her lips to suppress another little convulsion of sadness. "I ... I've never— I patch you all up, and I assist in surgeries on allies, and I make bones from dust to save soldiers and horses but—"

Marianne pulled her hands away, and to Lorenz's horror the flow of blood began anew, sizzling on the heat of the stones beneath.

"But I've never had my hands inside my best friend," Marianne sobbed, red hands clenched on her knees, staining her blue dress. She inhaled deep, her breath shaking even before the air around them was disturbed by a landing wyvern.

Before Claude could begin to dismount, Lorenz shouted at him. "Go fetch Linhardt! This instant! Go!"

"She's breathing?" Claude confirmed, as his wyvern beat her wings and sent dust scattering around them. "I'm gone!"

Claude's withered patience meant that he nearly lost his composure when Linhardt refused to take wing, but in the least he and Fae were quick about mounting with Caspar and Leonie as the paladins escorted them back to Hilda between the channels of molten stone.

Linhardt retched immediately.

Fae ran towards Hilda. They were not as strong a healer as Marianne, but enough? They needed to be enough.

They pressed a hand to her chest and her neck as they leaned down, seeking Hilda's heartbeat, and her breathing, and forcing something of healing magic into her body as they tried to make any kind of assessment.

Byleth crouched to Hilda's opposite side, and was a little crass — though perhaps they were simply urgent, rushed in their own way — as they started tearing at what remained of Hilda's armor.

With all who had sought to aid her, Hilda's dignity was protected by a wall of people as Fae and Byleth worked. Linhardt set himself to work eventually, when what magic substituted surgery was complete, helping with stitching, and bone and surface healing.

Claude watched the horizon, where Judith met with Raphael and the others, compelled to go, and unable to leave.

Marianne was still weeping, tucked under Lorenz's arm, and Claude wondered whether Lorenz might say something about his noble duty, but the silence stretched out, empty and aching.

Two days later Hilda woke and instantly rolled on her side in a dramatic coughing fit, gagging on the memory of Ailell, the taste of sulfur and blood, staining her tongue and her sinuses. Pain was everywhere, in her head, in her eyes, in her back and her core. Bandages circled her middle and down her right hip. Her stomach felt empty.

"Of course this would happen as soon as I turn my back," Linhardt said as he burst into her tent. It was then that she realized she was in a tent, and the air was fresh and green.

"Lay down," Linhardt said seriously, but his hands were kind, holding her back and offering a cloth for her face.

With a sputter and a groan, she followed his instruction.

"You better not be using this for research." She gestured with the cloth, returning it to him.

"Would that be so wrong?" Linhardt teased, and she could tell he was teasing, as the bite to his voice that died when he was sympathetic was missing. He offered her a waterskin. "We could help people."

As she drank, Linhardt pressed a healing hand around the side of her forehead, and Hilda sobbed.

"That hurts then, I take it?"

"Where are we?" Hilda asked instead.

"We're a days out from Garreg Mach," Linhardt said seriously, "and now that you're conscious, you're going to hate the journey tomorrow. Even in a cart, it will be painful on your injuries. Speaking of — shall I take a look, or should I call for Marianne?"

Marianne spent more than an hour in Hilda's tent, and when she was done, Byleth insisted upon seeing her. Claude had sat himself and the messenger from the monastery close to where the two of them passed to and from Hilda's tent. Byleth said Hilda was sleeping when they left, which only seemed appropriate. Claude swallowed his disappointment and expressed relief with his other friends, as he waited through another day of Hilda's involuntary absence, something he hadn't suffered for nearly six years.

Caspar and Lorenz lifted her from the cart the following evening, supervised by Marianne, and Hilda joked about her blue hued procession as they'd laid her in her old Academy dorm and left her to rest.

She tried to stand when they'd gone. Feeling as though the pain shouldn't have been able to stop he from doing so. She needed to know how much of her injury was in the way her head swam, and how much was in her extremities. It was only when she slipping to the floor that she realized how stupid this had been.

She couldn't call them to come back, and she couldn't risk tearing open her side by climbing back into bed, so she pulled her sheet down around her, and propped her pillow to her side, and let herself drift into sleep while sat up against the side of the bed.

Fae and Claude had conspired to see Hilda, just for a moment; him because it was obvious that his daily responsibilities kept him from the assurance of seeing her, and them because they had just enough faith magic that they might be able to do something if she were upset by Claude's visit.

When they knocked and softly pressed upon the door, they'd rushed inside, distressed by her position on the floor.

"Hilda?" Claude called, his hands gentle on her shoulders. "Hilda are you alright?"

"What?" Hilda asked groggily, half raising her arms to push him away before the pain spiked again. "Ow! Claude! What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything!" he answered sharply, pulling his hands away. He tangled them in his hair, a wince and a smile showing his stress. "What are you doing?"

Fae used two fingers to gently guide Hilda's chin to look towards them. "Did you fall?"

"No!" Hilda whined. "Well. Yes, but it's not like I rolled out of bed."

Fae's hands were on her temples, emitting little flickers of white that caused Hilda's neck to pop. It was uncomfortable, but felt fantastic compared to the hours in the cart returning to Garreg Mach.

"Of all the—" Lorenz cursed as he stepped into the room. "Why are you disturbing her?"

"She fell," Claude said simply, not taking his eyes off her.

Lorenz sighed, his left arm crossed around him and his right hand held up to the side of his nose. "Hilda."

"I just wanted to see if I could stand."

"You're fine," Fae said firmly dropping their hands to her thigh. "Your body's been under a lot of stress, but besides the scar — you'll feel like yourself in a week or two."

"We could be attacked in the meantime," Hilda said as if in protest.

"Well, we have troops and supplies now," Claude said, trying to be reassuring, "and Teach, and experience. We won't lose Garreg Mach a second time."

"Claude, help me," Fae requested, so that they each offered Hilda an arm, and tucked the other under her knees, cradling her up into a sitting position on the bed.

"I ... I'm not worried about that," Hilda confessed, and Lorenz closed the door, wondering what side of it he should have been on.

Claude sat next to Hilda, slowly curling his hand around hers, and that was mostly new, but more than anything it was welcome. She squeezed it and smiled at him sadly.

"Do you want to tell us what you are worried about?" he asked.

She made eye contact with Lorenz next, hovering awkwardly by the door, and then Fae, who tried to force a smile.

Fae wanted to fill her with love, to pour in affection and attention until the pain washed out and away. They wanted to listen, and to be a better part of her recovery than their skill set allowed. But they didn't want to be a burden.

"We could go," Fae suggested, referring to themselves and Lorenz, but Hilda shook her head to reassure them, wincing afterwards from the pain.

Fae sat next to Hilda also, and curved their hands up under either side of her neck to apply more healing as Hilda extended a hand towards Lorenz, encouraging him closer. He stepped forward to take it, and kneeled in front of Fae, kissing Hilda's knuckles in a way that had her rolling her eyes, unshed tears on her lashes.

She felt it was very unfair, that she must look shrunken and tired, bare of makeup and at a loss for composure in a gown that did little to hide her figure, while the others should look so lovely, even Marianne and Caspar and Linhardt earlier, but especially her current company.

Lorenz's suit was trim around the waist and padded around the shoulders — though it barely had to be, with his arms grown strong from lances and fingers nimble from magic. He carded his free hand through his graduated fringe, and the worry in his purple eyes, framed by thin, immaculate eyeliner pulled a smile at her lips, appreciating his honesty.

Fae's glowing fingers traveled into her hair, and Hilda felt dizzy for a moment. She wished that their strong arms had found themselves around her for a reason other than this. That their attentive gaze held something other than concern. She could lean towards them, it would barely take more than other wobble, to feel a kiss to her forehead, or upon her tired eyelids. They wouldn't mind, but, it would be unfair to expect more than sympathy.

She looked back at Claude, taking her hand from his to lay it on his chest, once, twice, finding the beat of his heart. There was stubble on his cheeks, besides his beard. He might've needed a shave, but his complexion was so handsome and healthy that it was easy to forget what they'd been talking about. He'd asked her a question, as he always did, though this one wasn't about strategies or planning, and wasn't one he'd already known the answer to. She wondered about his care, so often hidden away, and whether what she had to say would have him retract it. His thick brows were rarely so pinched, practiced smiles faded, if he never smiled while letting her so close then she wanted to hold onto this at least.

"I was useful, and so you saved me. If I'd been—"

"Hilda," Lorenz warned, and Claude frowned at him for keeping her from finishing, even if he agreed.

She'd closed her eyes, and looked away from him and Claude placed his hand around hers again, caressing up and down her forearm. Fae's healing had stopped, and they hovered awkwardly. They longed to rest on Hilda's shoulder or stroke her hair, but felt that the one would hurt her and the other may be inappropriate. They wrapped a hand over where Hilda's and Lorenz's were joined instead.

"You didn’t think we’d just abandon you, did you?" Claude asked softly, his mouth dry, his heart in his throat, thinking of how he hadn't had his wyvern dive after her. He felt now that he should have. Even if it had been futile, just so that she'd have known he was coming.

Hilda pulled her hands in towards herself and the others let her, let her hold her forearms and cradle her broken body, let her drag out the silence.

"I don't know," Hilda said finally, squeaky and sad.

"I would never leave you behind," Claude promised, sliding his arm around her.

Lorenz shared a look with Fae and reached out to fix a fold in Hilda's nightgown. "Nor we."

"Useful doesn't even come into question; for you or anyone," Fae insisted.

"We're here to save as many people as we can," Claude said, warm as he could manage. "That definitely includes you."

"You're a marvelous woman, Hilda," Lorenz professed. "A dearer friend than your value to the war effort—"

"Braith," Hilda sobbed.

"I know," Claude said quickly, and Lorenz faltered, feeling clumsy and guilty, though no one seemed to blame him either.

"I'm sorry," Claude said, worrying his sympathy sounded hollow, now that she'd been through this twice.

"She trusted me and I—"

Emboldened by the presence of their friends, Claude slipped his arm under Hilda's legs again, pulling her up into a cradle as he scooched back into the bed, relieved and hopeless and guilty — if the wyvern had lived and Hilda had died, he didn't know that he could stomach anyone else riding Braith. He was confident that he too would sooner die for his wyvern than abandon her, but the loyalty of that bond was not something he was prepared to compare to this: Hilda in his arms, Fae's hand on her spine, even Lorenz, sitting on the bed to offer his presence to Hilda's distress, a hand on her uninjured hip by Claude's wrist.

Hilda's injury was towards his body, and the the soft, warm comfort was a far nicer cushion than her pillow on the floor. If this were a fairy tale he might tip her back and kiss her then, or someone would, taking the pain away with true love and all that. She sobbed a single laugh into his shoulder. Recovery was so much work.

#hilda valentine goneril #claude von riegan #lorenz hellman gloucester #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #faedolyn #claude. hilda. mc. lorenz #long post #my writing #i made this #the fanfiction i mean

11 notes · View notes

one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years ago

Text

“illusion’ // ch 9

AKA Captain Hervey go to hell challenge

It’s been a while! I still want to continue working on this even if it’s sporadic

Link to the full work on Ao3

Warning: mentions of drugs/assault

I don't remember sleeping this well for weeks. The sheets of the bed seem to cradle me gently, and metaphorically rock me to sleep. It's comforting and warm... two feelings that my own bed doesn't afford any more. For the first time, I know that I'm safe as I sleep. No one's going to be strangling me in my sleep, or breaking in to-

BANG BANG BANG

My body sits straight up as if released from a spring, tearing me from my peaceful slumber. "H-Huh?" I would usually scream, but my mind is still fairly leaded from being in delta-wave sleep just moments away. Wait? Where am I? This bed is far too large to be mine, and the sheets are nicer. This isn't my room, either, why am I here?

Oh... right.

The realization that this is in fact Julius's room and the events of last night weren't a dream hits me softly, and I can't help but smile a little. Right... I'm safe here, for now at least. But- I wince as the banging continues, now seeming to come from the door. What on earth is that-

Before I have a chance to think about it any further, the banging ceases as the door opens with a soft creak. I look over to see that Julius, who looks as tired as I am, got up to investigate, leaving his couch-nest in a hurry. "Alice? What brings you here at 3 am-"

"THANK GOD!"

As soon as she peers in and sees me sitting in bed, Alice completely disregards Julius's presence and pushes past him and into the room. "Alice? Why-" She basically tackles me and sends us both falling back onto the bed in a tangle. "Alice!" I cry out, wincing a bit as a headache starts to build from the shock of the past few seconds.

"I was so worried!" Alice grabs my shoulders as she sits back up, her eyes basically shaking in their sockets. "I came back, and- and you weren't in our room..." She shakes her head. "I thought someone came and kidnapped you, but you were just in here..." Her momentary worry suddenly melts away, and she smirks. "I came here because I thought Julius could help me look for you... I didn't expect you to come here first."

I blink, my weary mind still working hard to catch up to what she's saying. "O-Oh... well, actually-"

"Yes! Luckily, she came here first!" Julius suddenly cuts in after standing awkwardly next to the door while Alice cried all over me. I'm still adding everything up as he continues speaking. "She told me about everything before... and I just-"

"Oh, I see." Alice holds up a hand to stop him, one arm still slung over my shoulder. "Well, you can come back to our room now that I'm home. Unless you'd rather stay here to continue being comforted~"

Julius goes pale when he finally realizes what she's implying. "Oh- uh- ah, well, you see-"

"Actually, yeah, that's fine, you can go." I give Alice a wink, not really thinking about it. "Sorry to worry you. Just don't tell anyone, you know?"

Alice bites her lip to keep from giggling, before patting me on the back and standing up. "Well, I'll leave you to it." She spares Julius just one short glance before turning to leave, shutting the door behind her.

After a long, LONG moment of silence, Julius finally swallows and turns to look at me, a perplexed look on his face. His earlier flustered state seemed to be the result of being woken up so suddenly, but he still looks a little embarrassed after what I implied to Alice. "So... ah..." He somehow manages to smile, running a hand over his mussed hair in a vague effort to smooth it down. "Is there a reason you just told her-"

"I said it before, didn't I? Alice doesn't have an alibi anymore." I avert my eyes and flop back down into bed, straining to keep from making a fool of myself. In reality, I'm just as embarrassed as he is, but I have to keep a cool head. "It's better if she doesn't know that I freaked out. So... you're the excuse. I came here because, well..." I don't really have to say the rest of that sentence.

Julius doesn't speak again for a few seconds, before I hear him let out a long sigh. Was that exasperated? Relieved? Disappointed? I resist the urge to glance over my shoulders at him to get a read on what he's really thinking. The ambiguity is surprisingly upsetting to me. "I see... Alright. You told her to keep quiet, anyway, so this won't become a problem."

"Yeah, if she can keep her mouth shut." I shake my head a little at the thought, hoping to god that I haven't made things worse. The only reason Alice didn't question this is because she already knows about my plot to get away from Lawrence, otherwise she would have been a lot more doubtful of the lie that I was, er, canoodling with Julius. But if she opens her mouth and gloats to someone- say, Elia- about this, it could lead to a lot of trouble. And I'm in enough of that already.

I hear him move again, flicking off the lights, then the sound of him nestling back into his makeshift bed. His breathing slows, but I know he's still awake.

"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so quick to throw you into this-"

"No, it's fine." Julius clears his throat, his response so quick that I wonder if he was actually anticipating my response. "I'm happy to help... in any way I can."

In any way I can.

For some terrible reason, that phrase excites me. I quickly squeeze my eyes shut and ignore the momentary spike of thrill... no matter

"Thanks, Julius. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

..............................

"So... you're looking pretty tired there, friend."

I nearly choke on the croissant I'm chewing on as Alice slyly comments on my appearance. "Ah- Alice! Shut up, shut up-"

"What, hard night?" Nigel pipes up, of course deciding to pursue the throwaway comment right now. "I thought you went to bed early."

"Yeah, did something happen?" Elia leans forward to peer over at me from around Giles on my other side.

Alice giggles and hides her smirk behind her cup as she sips on apple juice. "Oh, she stayed up late-"

I kick Alice in the shins hard under the table, causing her to squeak and spill juice down the front of her shirt. "Ah! What was that for-"

"I told you to shut up," I whisper-shout at her, trying to stay calm as my heart rate skyrockets. Shit! I knew this might be a problem, but she only keeps important secrets, and stuff like this she'll be ready to spill at any time. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to put me and Julius into a fake relationship, even if Alice is the only one who knows about it. God, this situation just keeps getting worse, and it's all my fault.

"Huh. You're acting mighty suspicious." Nigel wiggles his eyebrows like the asshole he is. "You sneak out to see your fiance or something?"

"N-No, nothing like that!" I quickly answer. "I just... I had a night terror and Alice won't stop teasing me about it."

"Aw, that's not very nice." Elia quickly loses interest in the decidedly un-juicy explanation and immediately goes back to eating.

"I know, you're not supposed to tease people about having nightmares." I shoot a warning glance over at Alice, and she finally sobers up. I just need to keep her reined in. Hopefully soon Julius and I will get to the bottom of this and I can tell her the truth. But until then...

"Hey, you wanted to see the Captain, right? He's in his office now."

I look up to see that Julius just walked up behind me, looking down at me with a smile that betrays absolutely nothing about what he's thinking. Well, to everyone else, that is. I can pick up on the hint of anticipation in his eyes, hanging just in the corners. We did agree this morning to go tell the Captain everything, but I'm still feeling very worried. After all... what proof do I have? And is Hervey even a safe person to tell? Julius assured me that his presence would make everything okay, and I'm willing to trust his judgement for now.

"Right. Let's go."

I ignore the looks on my friends's faces as I stand up and follow Julius out of the room, making our way to the stairwell. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I think so! He'll be a big help if he agrees to it. We don't have many leads, other than one of your friends at the bar being involved," Julius answers, glancing down at me by his side. "I can do the talking if you want?"

"I can do it," I insist, clenching my fists at my sides to steel myself. "I know the most details... you're just here to back me up."

"Ah, right, yes ma'am." I shoot a little glare up at his jest, but I can't help but smile a little. Julius, you're just too good. I'll make sure to thank you properly later.

"Although, I was thinking about something-" Julius suddenly continues, slowing to a stop. "Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to cut Alice out. I know she could be a suspect... but last night, it really seemed like she was truly worried."

I suck in a breath, considering his words. It hurts to think about the possibility of being betrayed by Alice, yeah, especially after so many years of being her best friend. But, I can't shake the feeling that she might be involved. "I... I don't want to take the risk. It could be fatal if I make a mistake right now. And anyway..." I shake my head. "Her reaction is no reason to trust her. People lie, for whatever reason."

Julius's brow furrows, before he lets out a sigh. "That's fine, then. I just don't want you to needlessly... isolate yourself."

Isolate.

That's the whole point of this, right? These attackers, for whatever reason, have planted a potent seed of paranoia within my heart, forcing me to distance myself and suspect my friends and squad mates. I've never been so alone in my life.

"But, in that case, I'll stick to the plan." Julius gives me a thumb up. "We just have to pretend to be in a relationship... while also pretending to not be in a relationship... while pretending to not know about the traitor in our squad... while pretending to just be friends... while-"

"Stop talking, please."

It's enough to make anyone's head spin, but somehow both Julius and I end up giggling together as we turn and keep walking up the stairs towards Hervey's office. "Anyway, hopefully this can be cleared up soon, so things can go back to normal."

"Yeah, yeah, for sure."

He answered that so quickly. For some reason, that fact is slightly upsetting to me.

"Julius? What brings you two here." Captain Hervey eyes the pair of us as we enter his office and Julius closes the door behind us. "Don't tell me she's causing trouble or something."

"Huh, me?" I shake my head quickly.

"She's probably our best-behaved intermediate knight, Captain," Julius reminds him with a smile. "But no, she's not the one in trouble... but someone else definitely is."

Oh boy, here we go... I gulp nervously, squeezing and unsqueezing my hands a few times in an effort to compose myself.

"Hmm? Is something wrong?" Hervey's hard expression softens for just the briefest of moments. "Go on, spit it out. If something's happening with my squad, I want to know."

Despite the callousness of his words, they encourage me to finally find the strength to speak. "I'm sorry for not saying anything about this sooner, sir, but you have to understand... I was afraid. Back on New Years day, do you remember me coming in with all those injuries?"

My captain's eyes narrow. "...vaguely? Was that you?"

"Yes... I told everyone that I fell down the stairs, but that was a lie. Well, kind of- er-"

"A lie? Kind of? You're not making any sense, girl."

The harshness of his words feel as cold as his ice magic, and suddenly I want nothing more than to just sprint away as fast as I can. "S-s-sorry, sir, I meant-"

"Captain, please, just listen." Julius's hand suddenly lands on my shoulder as he finally speaks up, saving the day once again. "She's been through a lot... she told me all this first."

"Well? Then what the Hell happened?" Hervey glares at me again, but by now I've managed to calm down enough to continue.

"I was pushed down the stairs, and two people proceeded to beat me until I was unconscious."

It seems like, out of all the things Hervey was expecting to hear, that was not one of them. His mouth visibly opens and closes a few times before he can formulate a response. "...What?!"

"And that's not all!" Julius reminds me. I nod in agreement before continuing. "And two nights ago, someone at the bar drugged me. Everyone thought I had a hangover, but according to the bar tab, I only had one drink. That's not nearly enough to get drunk, even for a lightweight like me." I don't take my eyes off his face, gauging his every reaction. With each new sentence, he starts to become more and more uncomfortable. "I was attacked twice... the second time, I managed to get away, because Julius found me before anyone else could." Julius nods in agreement. "The worst part is that my attackers are definitely from this squad."

"From... this squad." Hervey's face is blank, his eyes still harboring that vague discomfort. "From... my squad..."

"She told me all this, so I suggested we tell you. You can help us better, anyway," Julius suggests. "In my opinion, if someone in this squad is behind this, then-"

"No."

"-then we should definitely start looking into it-"

Julius's voice trails off when he realizes what Hervey just said. I feel my heart drop.

"...Captain? I beg your pardon-"

"I said no." Hervey's face has hardened again, all emotion suddenly extinguished in his eyes. I've never seen that light fade so quickly, and the moment scares me more that I would like to admit. Now, he's utterly unreadable. "You're saying someone on your own squad tried to kill you? Twice?"

"I-i mean, maybe they weren't trying to kill me, but- it-it could be that, or-" His sudden seriousness is causing me to stumble over my words, dangerously close to taking a nosedive."

"Or what?" Hervey shakes his head in a dismissive way before bombarding me with more questions. "Well, do you have any proof? Any suspects? Anything at all?"

Each one hits me like a bullet, triggering my flight-or-fight reaction again. Stay calm! Just answer him with what you know. "Well, other than the fact that I was drugged, my attacker on New Years was wearing our squad cloak. And as for suspects, Alice, Giles, Nigel, and Elia were at the bar with me last night-"

"Listen to you!" Hervey suddenly barks and points at me accusingly. "Your friends drugged you? Are you sure it wasn't just some creep at the bar?"

"I mean, I didn't see-"

"And your attacker was wearing our cloak? Nonsense..." Hervey shakes his head. "I don't want to hear any more."

I open my mouth to object, but I almost make an embarrassing choking sound instead. What? But- he was supposed to believe me, right? What more am I supposed to say?!

"S-Sir, I- I'm sure of what happened, if we don't figure out who did this-"

"No one did anything, alright?" Hervey cuts me off before Julius can step in to deescalate the situation. "Listen- I'm sure you were actually drugged the other night. But that shit happens to, like, 4 out of 5 women or something like that. You should have known to be more careful."

"If I may interject-" Julius suddenly speaks up, a grim look failing to be hidden behind his smile. "She was with her friends, people she trusted-"

"Yeah, people she's more than willing to throw under the bus." Hervey snaps. "And on New Years, you probably just hit your head real hard and hallucinated the whole thing. There. Now, just be more aware of your surroundings next time and don't be such a klutz."

"K-Klutz?" I repeat, still a little shocked and upset that this is even happening. "Captain, please, if you would just listen-"

"No!" Hervey points at me accusingly one last time. "I won't let you spread rumors and let your paranoia pull this squad apart! Do you have any idea how long it took to build the Grey Deer to its current reputation? Years! I'm not going to sit here and let a hysterical woman convince me to start tearing it all down because you got drugged at a bar!"

The rudeness of his words just sends me spiraling down further. Sure, Hervey had never been the most fatherly or kind mentor, but this sudden aggression is so-

"Hervey, I think you should at least consider it-" Julius finally steps in as soon as he has the chance, his voice raised just slightly enough to show he's serious. "These past few weeks have been agonizing for her, and it doesn't help for you to just come out and start calling her hyst-"

"Julius, you can't be so emotional about these things-" Hervey doesn't let him get his full sentence in. "Take her away and talk some sense into her, please-"

Anger flashes through Julius's eyes. "But-"

"Yes sir."

Before Julius can respond, I pull away from his side and basically run out of the room. The pressure of that interaction mounted so high that I thought I might actually break under it, so I expect leaving to be a breath of relief. But it's not. The pressure persists, chasing me as I finally slow to a stop, leaning against the hallway wall. All at once, the unfairness of the situation hits me, and I feel tears prick at my eyes, welling up hotly in my throat.

God... maybe I'm just an idiot.

The words are still stinging at my soul. The way he just... dismissed me.

Maybe he's right... and I'm just hysterical.

I always suspected it, even though my attack felt so real.

And women do get drugged all the time... I should feel lucky that it wasn't any worse.

"Hey, there you are-"

I turn to see Julius run up, and a spike of fear shoots through me instinctively. I can't talk to him right now, not after being embarrassed like that-

"S-Sorry, Julius, I didn't mean for it to go that way-" I say before he can start talking. "And now the Captain's mad at you too... ugh!" I start to turn to run away again. "Just forget about all this, it's done."

"Wait!" His hand suddenly closes around my arm. "That's not what-"

"Please, Julius-" I wrench my arm away, just glancing back at him one last time. My heart nearly stops at the sight of his expression, which is so... sad. And disappointed... perhaps disappointed in me.

"I've had enough sense talked into me for one day."

Without another word, I turn and run off to be alone with nothing but my shame.

Uh oh! What’s MC supposed to do now?

Please PLEASE give me a crumb of feedback I'm losing motivation quickly.

#illusion #fic #julius novachrono #julius novachrono x reader

9 notes · View notes

aussiboris · 4 years ago

Text

We made it to the Semi-final! England versus New Zealand

October 26th 2019

That had been the plan. To see England play. To hopefully see them in a quarter final match. We had gambled and got tickets for both quarter finals so they didn’t even have to top the group. We would get to see England play in a competitive match. We did see them and it was a fantastic day. We watched their victorious win over Australia. Now we could enjoy the semi final and finals - whoever may be in them at our local rugby pub.

Then, on the bus back to our hotel after the seven hells of Beppu exploration, we reminisced about how great it had been. How it would be so nice to support England in the semi-final. They were going to lose I reasoned, they were up against the two-time World Cup holders New Zealand, but wouldn’t it be great to be there to support them... Were we really ready for our live World Cup journey to be over? Ok, let’s see how the tickets are going on the resale sites. Not horrendous. The price would only increase closer to the day. We didn’t have to worry about accommodation, and we could get the shinkansen up on the day as it didn’t start until 5pm. So we did it. In a tourist information shop with dodgy internet connection in Beppu, we splashed out on the tickets which would continue our World Cup Dream. We were going to Yokohama to watch England fight for a chance to make the World Cup Final.

It was a lovely sunny Saturday morning. We donned our festive supporters gear, borrowed the England flag from Mel and made our way to Yokohama. We wanted to get there early to soak up the atmosphere in the fanzone!

We arrived by 1.30pm and already the place was filling up. There were stalls, photo stops, food and drink available. We took photos with a few people who appreciated Mel’s flag. We grabbed some food to eat whilst the big screen replayed other World Cup matches.

We knew we wanted to get to the stadium early to soak up the atmosphere and enjoy every moment we could, so we headed to the train station at about 3pm. Once there we followed the continuous flow of people and the helpful games makers towards the stadium.

Outside the stadium we chatted with a few English fans, taking photos for each other. We were particularly impressed with the couple with the Ren Ji hats, if a little jealous.

We had a good wander around the whole stadium and finally made our way to our seats. We found we were sat next to some lovely English boys; Jamie and Sam and pretty quickly convinced them to help us wave our flag.

The stage was set, the Japanese weather was again putting on another beautiful sunset.

The atmosphere was electric. There were a lot of England fans but there were a lot of All Blacks fans too. The numbers of the Kiwi supporters were swelled by the Japanese who worship the All Blacks as their second team.

The warm up complete it was time for the iconic Haka. The All Blacks formed their arrowhead shape and in a shocking turn of events the England team formed a V outflanking the All Black team. At one point it looked like Billy Vunipola and Joe Marler were actually going to advance on the All Blacks, but they were ushered back behind the halfway line by the match officials.

The crowd were audibly shocked and the normal hush that accompanied the sacred Haka was disrupted. Owen Farrell, England’s captain, looked on from the top of V with a satisfied smirk. Everyone in that stadium knew that the gauntlet had been thrown down. England were ready, they had made an incredibly bold gesture, now they had to back it up with action.

England were kicking off. Straight away they set to confuse the opposition by making it appear as if George Ford would kick but as the whistle blew he passed it back to Farrell. England began with real intent. Anthony Watson skipped along the line evading defenders, and offloaded across the pitch. The whole team were involved in passing and carrying the ball towards the All Blacks’ try line. It felt like an inevitability then when Manu Tuilangi completed the attack my diving over the try line just two minutes in. The vaguely stunned crowd erupted. England had come to play.

England’s line out was working like a well oiled machine. They suffocated the All Blacks attacks by ushering their wingers into touch and turning over the ball with frightening efficiency. The forwards showed their skills as they tackled with ferocious brutality and carried and passed with silky ball skills. Finally at 24 minutes it looked like England had cleaved their way through the All Blacks defence as Sam Underhill charged over the try line. After consultation with the TMO however, Nigel Owen decided that Tom Curry had obstructed a defender from tackling the ball carrier and therefore the try was disallowed.

Just a couple of minutes later, Owen Farrell received a dead leg that would continue to haunt him for the rest of the match. After a bad kick by Ford the All Blacks capitalised but the attack was finally naturalised as three white shirts forced Jack Goodhue into touch.

Just a couple of minutes from half time England are 7-0 ahead of New Zealand. The All Blacks are on the attack but Tuilagi’s sudden presence makes the usually confident Richie Mo’unga hesitate, giving Sam Underhill the opportunity to make the tackle and get over the ball. The resulting penalty taken by George Ford brings the English side to 10-0 over the World Cup holders at half time.

We couldn’t believe what we were seeing. At no point did I relax and think England had this in the bag. This was the All Blacks team who had torn Ireland apart just the week before, surely after half time they would come back and show their class.

Shortly after half time there was a messy bit of play that saw England lose their attacking ball to the All Blacks; however, the England forwards piled in with Maro Itoje forcing a penalty. After a swift kick England activated their set piece. From the line out they created a maul and drove towards the line. The ball was released to Ben Youngs who spotted the space and wove between defenders for the try.

Unfortunately, during the replay of the points being scored, a close up showed some shifting of the ball during the maul. After careful TMO scrutiny, it was decided that the ball had been lost forward in the maul and regathered and therefore, another try was disallowed. At 49 minutes the All Blacks gave away another penalty and George Ford with apparent little effort makes them pay with his precision kick to take the points to 13-0.

At 55 minutes Slade and Tuilagi had to sprint across the pitch to halt Sevu Reece from scoring in the corner. This tackle had to be examined for foul play but Slade was given the benefit of the doubt as he tried to wrap one arm. The result was an England line out. Jamie George confidently throws the ball high as he has been doing all game. This time something went wrong with the machine, either the jumper has not reached the heights he needed or George has overthrown. Ardie Savea needed no more encouragement, he catches the loose ball and dashes for the line. Finally the All blacks have points on the board. After the Richie Mo’unga conversion the All Blacks coming back 7-13. Within five minutes to go, the All Blacks are desperately defending their try line from the onslaught of the powerful England forwards. They give away a penalty and again George Ford takes 3 points with a kick.

I keep expecting for the All Blacks to come back at England but the men in White contain the opposition effectively. So much so the usually clinical Kiwis end up giving away another penalty that leads to points, making the score 19-7.

By the 80th minute the All Blacks were labouring across the field but their repeated attempts were dashed against the rock hard wall of white shirts.

Nigel Owens blew his whistle to end the game as Jordie Barrett attempted to keep the ball alive.

England had done it. They had looked in control of the game. Every member of the team had played exceptionally. Maro Itoje had frustrated the All Blacks at the break down and looked supremely confident in the line outs. He was influential in attack and defence and rightly deserved man of the match. Considering we thought there was a sliver of a chance of a win against the clinical All Blacks, we were delighted to have been there to experience it. But the question now was could they overcome the final hurdle and lift the World Cup?

#The All Blacks #englandrugby #rwc2019 #semifinal

2 notes · View notes

nazariolahela · 5 years ago

Text

Something Domestic: Chapter 7

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a new TRR AU I’ve been working on. This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85 @cynicalworlds-blog @hopefulmoonobject @beardedoafdonutwagon @cmestrella @sugarandspice-milkandhoney

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Riley takes the kids on a playdate, and learns a startling secret.

My first week on the job goes by surprisingly quick. Before I know it, Friday has arrived. Liam and Madeleine have already left for work and I’m getting the kids ready to start the day. Before she left, Madeleine informed me that she set up a playdate for the kids with some friends of hers. And after the incident in the park on Monday, Liam hired security detail for me, much to my chagrin. Mara — my new bodyguard — sits in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee while I wash up the dishes from breakfast.

“Riley? Can we go to the zoo today?” Charlotte asks between bites of scrambled egg whites.

I stop washing the frying pan in the sink and turn to her. She looks at me with those emerald eyes, the same ones her mother uses to judge my every move. “Your mommy actually set up a playdate for you and Philip today. So we’re going over to see the Auvernal twins.”

Charlotte frowns. “I don’t like them. They're mean. Amelia doesn’t share her toys and Henry spit on me.”

Oh boy. This is going to be fun. Why am I not surprised that Madeline’s friend’s kids are brats? Before he left this morning, Liam did mention that Bradshaw and Isabella were a little too “hoity-toity” for his taste. Whatever that means. I guess the Ruby Red doesn’t fall far from the tree. I finish washing the pan and drain the sink, placing the sponge on the back and dry my hands.

“I’ll be there the whole time to make sure they are nice to you. If there’s a problem, Mara and I will take care of it.” She looks to Mara, then back at me, and nods then shoves a forkful of eggs into her mouth. Philip picks at his bowl of yogurt parfait, eating only the blueberries and strawberries. Yogurt is smeared on his cheeks.

”Can we go to the park again and see Mr. Toad? I miss him,” he asks.

I grimace. After the incident on Monday, I was forbidden by Madeleine from taking them to the park without prior approval. ”Uh, your mommy doesn't want us to go to the park for a while, bud. So, we're going to have to think of something else to do afterward. Maybe I can text her and see if we can go to the Children's Museum after your playdate.”

The kids finish up their breakfast as I pack up their travel bag. Mara gets on her phone and calls Bastien to bring the car around. Once everyone is ready to go, we make our way downstairs to meet him. Mara helps me fasten the kids into their booster seats, and waits for me to climb in after them, then takes her place in the front seat. As we make our journey to the Auvernal’s penthouse, the kids argue over who will be stuck playing with which twin. Jesus, these kids must be a nightmare.

Twenty-five minutes later, we arrive at their penthouse in Tribeca and I usher the children to the Auvernal’s quarters. A man in a waistcoat, grey striped trousers, a white Windsor cut shirt, and a black tie greets us and escorts us to a private keyed elevator. Once we reach the top floor, the door opens directly into an expansive foyer and my jaw immediately drops. This place is amazing! A gracious living room is accented by floor-to-ceiling windows and the terrace overlooks the iconic Tribeca architecture. The floors are Brazilian wenge hardwood, and a custom built-in wood-burning fireplace gives the room an elegant yet intimate feel.

As we are guided through the kitchen, I take in the granite countertops, white wood cabinetry, the Viking and Sub Zero appliances, and a 12-foot marble island. I’m pretty sure the fridge costs a month’s rent. The butler leads us into a playroom area attached to a bedroom suite with a private balcony.

“Master Henry and Mistress Amelia will arrive shortly,” he says before bowing and exiting the room. The kids and I take a seat on the plush leather sofa in the room, while Mara stands guard outside the door. A few minutes later, a young woman in a royal blue cardigan over a black tea-length dress enters, followed by two young children. The boy has brown eyes, short sandy brown hair, and tan skin. He is wearing a navy blue suit jacket, white dress shirt, and charcoal grey pants. The girl also has brown eyes and tan skin, but her hair is dark brown and pulled into a high pony wrapped in a lavender bow. She is wearing a lavender sundress under a white cardigan.

I rise from the sofa. “You must be Amelia and Henry. I’m Riley.” The children eye me skeptically, looking to their nanny for guidance. The young woman nods.

“Manners, children. What do we say when we greet our guests?” she snaps in a thick French accent and moves toward me, extending her hand. “Hello, I am Bridgette. The children’s au pair. So nice to meet you, Riley.”

Henry and Amelia move towards where Charlotte and Philip are sitting. “Hey, Philip. I got a new train set. Wanna play?” Henry asks. Philip nods and the two make their way to the corner of the room, where a huge toy chest sits. Amelia grabs Charlotte’s hand and drags her to the other end, to a larger-than-life dollhouse. The children laugh and play as Bridgette and I take our seats on the couch. I watch them for a few minutes, making sure everything is going smoothly. Philip and Henry take turns hooking up cars to the train and snapping pieces of the track together. On the other side of the room, Charlotte and Amelia hold a fashion show with their Barbie dolls.

These kids don’t seem so bad. Maybe I misjudged them. The butler from earlier enters the room, carrying a tray with a teapot and two teacups. He sets the tray on the coffee table in front of us and pours a cup for Bridgette and I, before bowing and exiting the room. Bridgett and I get to know each other as the kids play. I learn that she is also an education major and is studying abroad at Steinhardt, my alma mater. She tells me about living in France and asks me if I've been. I give her pointers about what classes to take and fun things to do while she's here.

After about an hour, I excuse myself to use the bathroom. The butler — whose name I learn is Nigel — escorts me to the “guest” bathroom. And by “guest,” I mean holy shit! This bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment. The five-fixture bathroom has bluestone and marble finishes, double sinks, a Duravit soaking tub, and separate shower stall. There is also a stunning Bec Brittain tailored light sculpture hanging from the ceiling and a large walk-in closet with custom Poliform cabinetry. This is so over-the-top for a guest bathroom, I can only imagine what the rest of the penthouse looks like. I finish up and head back to the playroom, and as I reach for the door handle, I hear the sounds of children arguing, followed by Bridgette scolding in French. I sigh deeply and roll my eyes before pushing the door open. I enter and find Philip and Henry playing tug-o-war with a G.I. Joe action figure, while Bridgette attempts to break them up. The discarded remnants of the train set they were playing with earlier lay scattered on the floor.

”These are my toys! You can't play with them!” Henry screams.

”You weren't even playing with it, ” Philip replies as tears streak down his little cheeks.

As I move over to assist Bridgette with the boys, I hear a shriek from across the room. I whip my head around to see Charlotte gripping her arm, and Amelia yanking a Barbie from her grasp.

”She bit me!” Charlotte cries as Amelia scowls and clutches the doll to her chest.

”Okay, kids. That's enough for today. Let's say goodbye to Amelia and Henry, ” I say, gathering their things. Bridgette looks at me apologetically as I escort the children out of the room. With Mara trailing, I nod goodbye to Nigel and head out.

During the car ride home, I comfort Philp and examine Charlotte’s wound. The bite mark wasn't enough to break the skin, but it clearly upset her. Who knew a couple of five-year-olds could be such assholes? I’ll definitely have to tell Liam about today. When we arrive at the Rhys penthouse, we bid Bastien goodbye and make our way inside. A half-dozen paparazzi litter the sidewalk outside the building, snapping our photos. I do my best to ignore them and usher the kids upstairs. The kids make their way to their playroom and I plop down on the sofa in the living room, sighing loudly.

“Everything alright, Miss?” Mara asks.

“Yeah. It’s just that dealing with those bratty Auvernal kids was exhausting. No wonder Charlotte didn’t want to play with them this morning.”

Mara smirks. “Makes you want to have kids of your own someday, huh?”

I laugh sarcastically. “Hopefully my kids will be raised better than those little dickheads.”

Just then, Philip comes ambling down the stairs “Riley? I’m bored.”

I rise from my seat and walk over towards him. “Do you want to color? I have some art supplies in my bag.” He nods and I head to the kitchen and retrieve a sketchbook and the 80-piece art set I carry in my tote bag. I tuck a stack of old newspapers under my arm and lead him upstairs into the playroom. I find Charlotte sitting in a chair, flipping through a pop-up book. She looks up and notices the art set in my hand, her eyes growing wide.

“Is that paint?” she asks, setting the book down.

I smile and open it up showing her the collection of crayons, colored pencils, watercolor paints, and paintbrushes. She jumps up and runs over to me, looking at the set in awe. I take the newspapers and lay them down on the floor, so as not to get paint on the carpet. I tear a page out of the sketchbook for each kid and pass them out. “When you guys are done, we can hang these on the fridge for your mommy and daddy to see.”

The kids begin creating pictures, as I pick up the toys scattered throughout the room. After a few hours and several Picassos later, I gather up the supplies and help the kids to clean up. I notice Charlotte’s hands, arms and legs are covered in paint. “Looks like you need a bath, missy. Run along into the bathroom and I’ll help you wash up” I tell her. She giggles and takes off towards the bathroom. I grab an iPad from the entertainment center and open up the Dopey Cat app. I then hand it to Philip. “Can you hang out here for a bit while I give your sister a bath?” I ask. He nods, too engrossed in the game to respond. I chuckle and make my way to the bathroom. Charlotte is already there, her shoes, socks, and dress scattered all over the bathroom floor. I run a bath for her and help her into the tub. Once she’s situated, I grab the shampoo and begin washing her hair. She mimics my actions, washing the hair of her Barbie doll. I grab the detachable showerhead and start rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

“Are you excited to start school next week?” I ask. She nods and continues bathing her doll. She then stops and turns to me.

“Riley? Are you my daddy’s new friend?

I shut off the water and set the showerhead aside. “I’m your nanny, sweetie. I’m yours and Philip’s new friend.”

“Are you going to be staying with us for a while?”

“I am. For as long as your mommy and daddy want me here.” I reach for a loofah and body wash and begin washing the paint off her arms and legs. She nods and dunks her Barbie’s head underwater, washing the shampoo from her hair. “What about Mommy’s friend? Is he going to be staying with us for a while?”

“Uh...I guess that depends. Who is your mommy’s friend?”

“I don’t know. He came over the other night when Daddy was still at work. Mommy kept calling him ‘baby’ but he’s too big to be a baby. She made us go in the playroom and then they went into Mommy’s room and didn’t come out for a long time. Brother and me could hear her crying. I think he was hurting her,” she frowns.

“Does Mommy have friends over a lot?”

“Sometimes. One time she had two ladies over. They sat in the living room and drank grown-up juice. Another time she had her baby friend over. They hung out in her room the whole time.”

My fists clench. I can’t believe Madeleine is bringing her booty calls to the house. And around the kids. Oh, wait, yes I can. Poor Philip and Charlotte. And poor Liam. I’m appalled at the nerve of this woman. I take a deep breath and finish rinsing Charlotte off, before pulling the drain stopper. She gets out of the tub and I wrap her in a fluffy yellow towel. I lead her to her bedroom and help her slip on some clean clothes. After a few minutes, I hear Philip knock on the door. “Riley? I’m hungry.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. 5:18 p.m. “Your mommy will be home from work soon, but we can grab a snack for now.” We head downstairs to the kitchen and I grab a jar of peanut butter from the cabinet and apple slices from the fridge. I put everything into a bowl and set it on the table for the kids. As they eat, I take a seat next to them and rest my head in my hands. I think back to what Charlotte told me in the bathroom. Do I tell Liam? Or do I keep my mouth shut and mind my own business?

Ugh. This was not part of the job description.

#something domestic #trr au #trr fanfic #playchoices fanfic #riley brooks #liam rhys #nanny au #nazariolahela fanfic

58 notes · View notes

antiadvil · 5 years ago

Text

The one where Dan should have packed more tissues

summary: Dan wants to ask Phil to marry him, but he wants Kath and Nigel's permission first.

rating: G

wc: 2k

notes: Written for @phanfictionevents telephone fic event. @flymetomanchester wrote the first part, @itsmyusualphannie wrote the second part, and I wrote the last part!

Honestly, I would not be shocked if this was the same prompt I got last time. Not that I'm complaining.

read on ao3 or below the cut

“I’ll see you next week then?” Phil asked Dan, looking up from where he was laying on the couch.

Dan nodded and leaned down and kissed him. “If you want, I'll bring you something back from the shops back home then?”

Phil nodded and smiled at him and Dan stood there momentarily admiring Phil. He couldn’t believe that their anniversary was soon coming up. More so he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t drove Phil away yet with all the shenanigans he pulls. With their three year anniversary coming up though, Dan didn’t want to stay boyfriends and play a guessing game anymore. He wanted to have a bigger future with Phil that wasn’t just in their apartment. He wanted kids, a house, a life with Phil. One that he could truly share every moment with.

They said their goodbyes quickly and Dan grabbed his bags and headed out. Catching a cab, he started to feel a bit guilty. He wasn’t going back home for a week like he had told Phil to begin with. He was going to visit Phil’s mum actually. Which she didn’t know either. D beenasn’t sure if Phil got his inability to hide anything from Kath, but if that was the case, he wasn’t taking any chances. Time was going slow for Dan and it was aggravating. He just wanted to get there so maybe his nerves would stop and he could feel at peace with himself. He didn’t like lying to Phil, but he had a reason too. It would ruin everything if Phil found out. Well, it would just ruin the surprise.

Phil had no idea in the following weeks they were going on holiday. He had no idea in the following weeks Dan would be proposing and hopefully they would be engaged and ready for the future. There was just one thing that was holding Dan back. He wanted to ask Kath first if he could marry Phil. He knew Phil sometimes liked things to be traditional. Dan wasn’t entirely for that, but for Phil he would do anything.

It took a while before Dan arrived at Phil’s parents house. His palms were sweating as he stood outside and he hesitantly knocked on the door. He felt weird being there without Phil, he never had gone to his parents' house without him. Why would he?

Standing there, he shuffled on his feet until the door open.

“Oh, hello dear,” Kath said warmly and smiled at him, realizing Phil wasn’t there and a confused look came across her face. “Is Phil running behind?”

Dan looked at and smiled nervously. “Uh no, I came by myself if that’s alright.”

“Of course, it’s always nice to see you.” She invited Dan in and he sat his stuff down. It was weird being here without Phil. He could remember everything the two done in this house together. But he had a mission, and, one he was determined to fill. “Would you like anything to drink?” She asked, walking into the kitchen, motioning for Dan to follow.

Following suite, Dan politely declined anything and sat down as Kath made herself a cup of tea.

“What brings you all this way without Phil?”

Dan bit his lip. “I um, I have something to ask you and Nigel.” Kath sat across from Dan momentarily. “I want to ask Phil to marry me.” He said nervously and looked down. “But not unless you guys say yes. Since you're his parents.”

---

Nigel, who had been sitting silently while Dan and Kath had settled at the kitchen table, glanced toward Kath with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh.” Kath looked surprised for a moment, then her face relaxed into a smile. “Oh, honey, are you serious?”

“Very,” Dan assured her hastily. “It’s just...I mean, I know I don’t need your permission, necessarily, but I’d like your blessing. I also, kind of, just wanted to let you both know that I’m even planning on marrying him. You’re incredibly important to us and...I know that you’d want to know first, too.”

Kath had lifted a hand to cover her mouth, her smile peeking through the edges of the attempt. She exchanged a glance with her husband, then turned back to Dan and reached out toward his nervously clasped hands. “Dan, dearheart, you know we love you. You’re the best possible person to have ever come into Phil’s life.”

“You make him happy,” Nigel added, the first he’d spoken since Dan had arrived.

Kath nodded in agreement. “And that’s what’s important. We want him to be happy - and not just him. We love you, too. You’re practically our son already.”

Dan could feel his breath judder in his chest. He tugged his hand free from Kath’s comforting grip to swipe ineffectually at his eyes.

“Nothing,” said Kath firmly, wrapping his fingers more tightly around his other, shaking hand, “nothing would make us happier to see you both happy together.”

Nigel leaned forward as well, offering a gentle pat to Dan’s knee. “What we’re saying here, Dan, is that we’d better get the best seats at your wedding.”

A partial laugh-sob broke free from Dan. He wiped once more at his eyes and met Kath’s eyes again, then Nigel’s. “God, of - of course you will. You’ll get the front row.”

Kath rubbed at her own eyes, smiling tearfully. “That’s - wow.” She stood suddenly, heading to the counter. “I’m making you some tea,” she said over her shoulder. “You’re going to have some tea.”

Nigel chuckled, leaning toward Dan with a wry grin. “She likes to be busy when she gets emotional,” he confided in a low voice.

“I’ve got to admit, though!” said Kath, fiddling with the controls to get the kettle going again. “I’ve been hoping for this for a long time. I mean, I didn’t assume you’d ask, but I was - well, both of us, really - have been expecting a wedding announcement at any time.”

Dan laughed ruefully. “Well...we’ve talked about it for years. I’ve just recently been thinking that it’s about the right time.” His chest felt tight with excitement, and he almost didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He had come here with no expectations, though he thought he might know their reactions, but this had been so much better than anything he could have imagined.

Kath seated herself again suddenly, her hands folded on the table in front of her. “I’ll get the tea when the kettle goes off,” she said dismissively. “But Dan. Tell us what made you decide that now is the time?”

Dan took a deep breath. “Well.”

It had been a couple of months earlier, in the dog days of summer. In London, it seemed as though all the air in the city hung heavy and sweet and thick, no amount of air-con able to penetrate the lazy warmth of the last bit of August.

Even in their flat, with fans blasting, reaching any sort of a comfortable temperature seemed next to impossible. Both Dan and Phil and resigned themselves to lounging around, sticky with sweat, and trying to move as little as possible. In the evenings, though, they had fallen into a bit of a routine- after coming together for dinner (almost always takeaway), and lying watching an episode or two of anime, they would go for a walk. It was almost always dark, or on the very verge of twilight, when the two would set out to wander the streets near the flat.

---

Usually, they’d walk through their neighborhood, the place in London they seemed to run into their fans the least. “They’re all too poor to live here,” Dan would joke, before Phil would scold him.

“We’re too poor to live here,” Phil reminded Dan.

Dan didn’t tell that bit to Phil’s parents.

They never really had a destination in mind, just out of the flat and its soul-sucking heat. It was nice, sometimes, not having anything they had to do, being able to put their millions of projects and side projects and side projects to side projects in the back of their minds. Just focusing on the present moment. As cliche as it sounded, the evening air against Dan’s skin and his boyfriend by his side made him feel whole.

There wasn’t anything really special about that night. It was a perfectly ordinary, too hot day full of mostly procrastination, followed by an evening where neither wanted to turn the oven on to cook so they ordered takeaway again, followed by a late evening stroll through London where they found a new ice cream place.

It took Phil too long to order (he insisted on trying every unfamiliar flavor). By the time they left the shop, Dan was halfway finished with his chocolate cone and Phil had just started his- well, Dan wasn’t sure what flavor it was, but it was a very brightly colored blue.

They continued their stroll through London, which is when it happened. Again, it wasn’t anything special, really, Dan explained to Kath and Nigel. Just, there was this moment when a little girl ran after her ball into the street and her mother ran after her and suddenly they were across the street in front of Dan and Phil. The girl had fallen, and there was a streak of blood on her knee- not a lot, but from the way her mum ran after her you’d think it was much worse.

“May! What have I said about going in the street?”

Dan froze. He wasn’t good at social interaction, especially with kids, even if children seemed drawn to his rounded face and long, floppy limbs.

(“They like you because you look like them but taller,” Phil would always tease. “They must hate you because you look so old then,” Dan would always shoot back.) Phil moved. He reached the girl’s side before her mum did, and knelt beside her. “Are you alright?” he asked her, in the gentlest voice Dan had heard from him in the three years they had known each other.

Dan moved to stand behind Phil. The girl- May?- looked up at him and Dan realized her eyes were the exact same color as Phil’s.

“I’m so sorry!” May’s mother rushed to her daughter. “She’s at that age, you know- well.” She looked Dan and Phil up and down. “Maybe not.”

Dan wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended by that.

“Oh, it’s no problem!” Phil said, his eyes crinkling into a smile. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, thank you!” The mother rummaged through her purse, pulling out a box of band-aids. “Here, let’s get you home,” she said to her daughter.

Phil took this as his cue to step back. “Bye!” he waved.

May smiled and waved back.

“She was cute,” Phil said, turning to Dan.

Dan froze again, and melted at the exact same moment.

He had known he wanted a relationship and a home and a life and possibly children with Phil ever since he was nineteen, but that was different that the knowing he felt now, settled warm in his stomach and his bones.

Phil waved a hand in front of Dan’s face. “Dan? You alright?” His eyes were full of concern.

“I love you,” Dan said, because life was too short to not say these things.

Phil relaxed. “I love you too,” he said.

“And so, that’s when I knew now was the right time,” Dan explained to Phil’s parents. “I’ve been planning things for a while now. This was sort of the final step.”

The room was silent. Dan looked up and realized Kath was crying again.

“That’s… really sweet,” she managed, clutching a kleenex.

A smile tugged at Dan’s lips. “He’s really sweet. You did a good job with him.”

They sat in the comfortable silence of family before Kath spoke again.

“So… are you and Phil planning on giving us any grandkids?”

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan fluff #phan #my writing

56 notes · View notes

wiccastark · 5 years ago

Text

Fighter | C8 | George Weasley

Emilia

I WAS seated beside Hermione in the common room when Neville came running in. "I found a place," he spoke so fast that I almost didn't understand what he had said.

My eyebrow raised in confusion as I looked towards the others. I shrugged my shoulders at them before following Neville where he led us to the seventh floor. He stopped in front of a wall and suddenly, a door appeared. We entered the room which the walls were like mirrors, a fireplace and a giant chandelier was in the middle of the room. "You've done it, Neville. You found the Room of Requirement," Hermione exclaimed when she figured out the room he had found.

"The what?" Ron asked which Hermione answered; "It's also known as the Come and Go Room. The Room of Requirement only appears when a person has real need of it. And it's always equipped for the seeker's needs."

"So, say you really needed the toilet," Ron suggested which made me shake my head.

"Charming, Ron," I scoffed at him as I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, that is the general idea," Hermione answered; also shaking her head at Ron's suggestion.

"It's brilliant. It's like Hogwarts wants us to fight back," Harry beamed as he looked around the room.

᛭᛭᛭

The next night, we all met up in the Room of Requirement for our first meeting. We were all lined up in front of the dummy which was made up to look like a Deatheater. I stood behind Harry who was stood beside Neville. As the dummy raised its wand, Neville didn't move and he looked towards Harry who signalled for him to go. "Expelliarmus," when Neville speak the spell, his wand flew out of his hand.

Everyone quickly ducked to escape from being hit in the face by Neville's wand which hit the wall behind us. "I'm hopeless," Neville sighed with his shoulders slumped in defeat.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

"You're just flourishing your wand too much. Try it like this. Expelliarmus," Harry flicked his wand with a quick little motion of his wrist and the dummy was disarmed.

᛭᛭᛭

In our next defence lesson and like every other lesson, we weren't using but instead, copying the toad's notes. "You will please copy the approved text four times... to ensure maximum retention. There will be no need to talk," Umbridge stated as she walked down the aisles of the class.

"No need to think is more like it," Hermione remarked under her breath from her spot beside me.

I chuckled softly as I kept my head down. "Wands away," Umbridge ordered which made me turn around to see Neville who was the one with his wand out.

I shook my head at him before returning back to copying the text.

᛭᛭᛭

The second meeting was scheduled, and this meeting was about stunning. "Stunning is one of the most useful spells in your arsenal. It's a wizard's bread and butter, really. So, come on, then, Nigel. Give it your best shot," Harry spoke as he stood on one side of the room while Nigel stood on the other side.

We were all in lines on either side of the room and we leaned towards the middle to see Nigel and Harry. Nigel took a deep breath and held out his wand before shouting; "Stupefy!"

His spell hit Harry which sent him flying off his feet but however, Nigel wasn't stable on his own feet as the force of the spell caused him to also fly off his feet. I winced at the sound of Harry and Nigel hitting the ground. "Good. Not bad at all, Nigel. Well done," Harry said as he slowly got back onto his feet.

I looked over at Nigel to see him seeing at his wand in shock. Hermione and Ron were up next, and I heard Ron say to Hermione; "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you."

I laughed because Hermione didn't need him to go easy. "Thanks, Ronald," Hermione said back, and I could hear a tone of disbelief when she spoke.

"Come on, Ron," the boys began to cheer Ron on which caused my eyes to roll.

They stood across from each other and Ron gave a smug nod to those who cheered him on. I looked towards Hermione and when we made eye contact, I gave her a nod and wink. As Ron took a breath, Hermione reacted faster than he could blink; "Stupefy."

The force of her spell sent him flying to the floor with a yell as a smirk formed on my face. Lesson learned...don't underestimate Hermione Granger. As the girls surrounded Hermione to laugh at Ron, I looked across at the boys to see George hand Fred a sickle which made me shake my head. Ron walked over to them; completely embarrassed as I heard him say; "I let her do that. It's good manners, isn't it? It was completely intentional."

I rolled my eyes as I walked up to George and whispered in his ear; "Next time, bet against Ron."

᛭᛭᛭

The next day, Umbridge had put up another Educational Decree stating that all students must submit to questioning about 'suspected illicit activities'. So far, no one had caved and given up any information, but I had a feeling that the toad was going to find a way to break someone.

᛭᛭᛭

Harry had us practising disarming each other in the next meeting. I was paired up with George who so far, hadn't disarmed me due to my fast reflexes. I could see he was getting annoyed by my reflexes that I decided to let him disarm me. "Expelliarmus," he flicked his wrist and my wand flew out of my hand.

I smiled at him, but he didn't smile back as he spoke; "You let me do that."

I shook my head at him as a smirk grew on my face. "So, what if I did?" I asked cheekily, grabbing my wand from the floor.

Before George could react, I pointed my wand towards him; flicked my wrist and spoke; "Expelliarmus."

The force of my spell caused his wand to fly out of his hand and towards me which I quickly grabbed. I twirled his wand between my fingers as I heard him sigh in defeat. When I noticed George's look of defeat, I waltzed over to him and placed his wand back into his hand. "Hopefully next time you try to disarm someone, they don't have superhuman reflexes," I informed as a cheeky smirk formed on my face.

I pecked his cheek before strutting over to where Hermione was practising levitating someone. Ginny was looking over her shoulder from her spot beside Hermione and saw the interaction between George and myself and when I stood beside her, she lightly bumped my shoulders with hers and wiggled her eyebrows at me. I shook my head at her actions before returning back to watching Hermione.

᛭᛭᛭

As Umbridge had employed Filch to catch us, Fred and George pranked him with their fake sweets and at first, we thought she gave up. However, she then created the Inquisitorial Squad whose ultimate goal was to catch us in the act. The squad consisted of only Slytherins as they were the only house not involved in DA. We, however, were a lot smarter than them and we were easily able to escape being caught. I was paired up with Hermione and we were practising stunning. Harry walked around; correcting stances and wand height as he spoke; "Working hard is important, but there's something that matters even more: Believing in yourself. Every great wizard in history has started out... as nothing more than what we are now: students. If they can do it, why not us?"

᛭᛭᛭

Now, it was the last meeting before Christmas, and we were practice disarming again. The Room of Requirement had decorated itself by putting up a Christmas tree with some lights and mistletoes strung around the room. I saw out of the corner of my eye Harry giving Cho an encouraging smile which caused a blush to form on her cheeks. I shook my head at them before returning back to look up Neville who was standing beside me. I gave him a reassuring smile as he pointed his wand towards Padma who he was practising with. He took a deep breath before exclaiming; "Expelliarmus."

Her wand flew out of her hand which caused everyone to grow silent and look at Neville in shock. Neville froze in shock that he actually disarmed someone on the first try and soon, everyone began clapping. "Fantastic, Neville," I cheered as I pulled him into a hug.

I hugged him for a few moments before releasing him to allow everyone else to congratulate him. After everyone had finishing congratulating Neville, Harry had wrapped up the meeting; "So that's it for this lesson. Now, we' re not gonna be meeting again until after the holidays."

His words caused everyone to groan but Harry continuing talking over the noise; "So just keep practising on your own as best you can. And well done, everyone. Great, great work."

Everyone began clapping for Harry which caused a bright smile to form on his face. "Well done, Harry," I whispered into his ear as I continued clapping along with everyone else.

"Thanks, Em," he responded back with his bright smile still present on his face.

We watched as Harry's eyes watching Cho who separated from everyone else to grab her stuff and look at the mirror that we had put newspaper clippings and the original Order of the Phoenix photo on. I made eye contact with Hermione and Ron and we gave each other a look as we could see how obvious Harry and Cho were about their feelings for each other. "See you in the Common Room, Harry," I informed him as we slowly back away from him.

He didn't respond as he slowly made his way over to Cho.

᛭᛭᛭

We were sitting on the couch when Harry returned to the common room that evening. As he sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace and across from us on the couch, I could see how dazed he was which led me to believe what had happened between him and Cho. "Well, how was it?" Ron asked after a few moments of silence between us.

"Wet. I mean, she was sort of crying," Harry answered which made Ron snicker; "That bad at it, are you?"

"I'm sure Harry's kissing was more than satisfactory," Hermione dismissed which caused Ron to snicker even more.

"Cho spends half her time crying these days," I explained as I felt sorry for Cho.

"You'd think a bit of snogging would cheer her up," Ron responded cheekily which made me slap his shoulder, hard.

"Don't you understand how she must be feeling?" Hermione asked, being serious, unlike our ginger friend who was now rubbing his 'wounded' shoulder.

We didn't answer her, so she explained; "Well, obviously she's feeling sad about Cedric and confused about liking Harry and guilty about kissing him. Conflicted because Umbridge might sack her mum from the Ministry and frightened of failing her OWLs because she's worrying about everything."

"One person couldn't feel all that. They'd explode," Ron remarked which made Hermione sass back; "Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon."

Hermione's words lingered for a few moments as we all glanced at each other before we couldn't help but burst into laughter. Hermione and I were leaning on each other to give each other support. I haven't laughed this hard since my mother passed...and god it felt so good.

#shadowhunters #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfic #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x oc #nephilim #witch #wizard #Magic

3 notes · View notes

ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years ago

Text

Can I buy you a drink?

Author: Vous_et_moi

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Mike/Dave

“hey… You new on campus?”

“Naw, naw, I’m here visiting my brother for the week. You go to this uni?”

“Yeah I’m doing photography and graphic art, keeps me off the street. Can I get you a drink?”

“Umm yeah. Cool, thanks, just a beer, anything.”

“Nice one. I’m Dave.”

“I’m Mike.”

“So what are you doing? You at college?”

“Naw I’m working, just out of school last year really, thought I’d stay off it a year make some cash.”

“Good Plan, what do you want to do?”

“Lot’s of stuff. I dunno, something creative maybe. Or maybe I’ll just work in Dixon’s.”

“Haha! Go into comedy.”

“Nah. No way, that’s already covered in my family. You want another drink? My brother just text me, he‘s running really late.”

“Yeah alright then, cool”

“He is the most unreliable fucking guy in the fucking world.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. Look at this, “Hey man, sorry, date going really well, do you still have the address of my place? My flat mates should be in, get a taxi I’ll pay you back.” Brilliant. Fucking typical.”

“Ah I’m not complaining, you’re good company. We could head to mine, I’m on campus, then you can text your brother, tell him to come and get you when his date finishes?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty skint now anyway, and I’m not leaving you to stagger round here finding his flat, they all look the same anyways, took me MONTHS to remember.”

“Thanks. Will we get a taxi anyway, and charge it back to him?”

“Oh you’re bad.”

“You have no idea.”

“Can I get you anything? We’ve got some carling in I think…”

“Yeah great. Wow this place is clean for a student flat!”

“Yeah Nigel’s pretty much… He’s like the mum of the flat. Catch”

“Cheers. You know I don’t usually go back with strange men you know.”

“Haha! I’m sure! I can’t believe the flat’s empty, this never happens, usually one of us is in. Guess it means I can put on my fucking music for a change. Look at this, Best of the 80’s. There was nothing good about the 80’s”

“Tell me about it, it’s all I EVER hear at home. Some people should just stop living in the past!”

“Haha, so true. Budge up, I’m not sitting on the fucking bean bags.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Ah. If it’s any consolation I’ve only done it twice.”

“Ok. You can lead then. Fuck, you’re good at that.”

“So I’ve been told. Want to go to your room? Case your flatmates come back?”

“yeah, yeah ok… Mike?”

“yeah?”

“I’m fucking glad your brother’s a Div.”

“Me too, sometimes, Come on!”

As they stumbled into Dave Brown’s room they failed to notice the post-it that had fluttered onto the ground-

Dave. Big date is tonight! Be back about 10 though with my little brother Mike, he’s staying a few days, ok?

Noel turned his key in the lock, whistling to himself, it was 10 am and he was just getting back in now, that just-laid glow all over him, he grinned, happily in love and in lust.

He threw his keys down on the table in the hall and swaned into the living room, where he saw his little brother sitting on the floor looking through a bunch of Dave’s newest photographs , he grinned to himself, at least Mike had found the place, hopefully he wouldn’t be too mad at him, he understood right?

“Alright, Mikey?”

Noel grinned as his little brother jumped out of his skin, staring at him with wide eyes he scrambled to his feet and gave Noel a shaky hug.

“Are you alright, Michael?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here, spazatron. Dave’s amazing at photo’s and stuff huh? Where is he? Did he show you a good time last night?” Noel was wandering to the kitchen when Dave came back through, Mike tried to catch his attention but to no avail.

“Alright Noel, where were you? This is Mike, by the way-”

“Haha, very funny, Yeah Sorry Mike I did mean to meet you yeah but this girl, she was amazing, I’m in love…”

Dave turned to Mike with eyes widened, Noel had his back to them and Mike brought a finger to his lips in the universal symbol for shut up, Dave nodded back franticly and mouthed at him, “Ya think?”

“So!” Noel turned back round with a bowl of frosties, “What did you get up to?”

End

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #dave brown #mike fielding/dave brown #mike fielding #noel fielding #rps #real person fic

1 note · View note

chungledown-bimothy · 6 years ago

Text

Trust Me: Chapter 5

Hello again! I know it’s been a while- things got crazy with the holidays and my birthday, but things are calm now. Here we go!

Chapter One Chapter 4 AO3 Chapter 6

Warnings: mentions of violence, descriptions of torture

Word Count: 1865

Tag List: @ren-allen @ccecode @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @ilovemygaydad @bloodropsblog @funsizedgremlin @raygelkitty @roxiefox23 @thomasthesandersengine @spookyingarbageisland @band-be-boss-blog

Virgil made his way to Dr Vincent Nigel-Murray's lab with a bad feeling in his gut. He hadn't been able to meet with the pathologist about the first victim, as the doctor had left town suddenly shortly after Virgil arrived. But he was back, and it was time Virgil met the man he'd heard so much about.

"Doctor Nigel-Murray?" He knocked on the doorframe, peering into the lab. "Are you here?"

"Ah! Yes! You must be Detective Mason, yeah?" Virgil wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but a 6-foot-tall Brit with dark hair and startling blue eyes who was practically bouncing with excitement was not it.

"Yep, that's me. Nice to meet you, doctor."

"Please, call me Vincent. Or Nigel. I also go by Vin, Vinnie, Vincenzo, any of those. My ex used to call me Vino Delectable."

"I'll stick with Vincent. And you can call me Virgil."

"A lovely name! Did you know that the famed Roman poet Virgil was homosexual and included erotic homosexual themes in two of his famed Eclogues?"

"I, um, didn't know that. Why would you bring that up? Have people been talking about me, gossiping about the gay new guy? I thought San Francisco was going to be better than this." Virgil narrowed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

"You're gay? I did not know that. What a coincidence! Fun fact- in 2017, it was estimated that 8.2% of Millennials identify as LGBT+."

"You didn't know? Then what's with all the facts?"

"Facts are the stitches that hold the fabric of the universe together. I apologize if I'm being annoying; I've been told it's a rather bad habit." Vincent looked down and put his hands in his pockets; Virgil relaxed, suddenly understanding.

"It's an anxiety thing, right? Things get overwhelming sometimes, but facts are grounding."

"That is exactly right! If I may ask, how could you tell so quickly? Almost everyone gets there eventually, but it's only been a matter of minutes."

"I was one of the FBI's best profilers. Also, I do the same thing with sarcasm and hostility."

"It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Virgil. Now, follow me, I have two bodies with stories I think you'll want to hear."

Virgil followed the doctor into his lab. He was no stranger to morgues and autopsied bodies, but he could never get over the weird feeling in his gut when they were rolled out of the cooler. As always, he ignored the feeling and followed Dr Nigel-Murray to the first body.

"This is Orin Scrivello, the first victim. You can see the ligature marks on his wrists and ankles, and the scabbing indicates that he was tied up for quite some time and struggled a lot. This is just conjecture, but I'd wager it happened while the killer was inflicting these wounds." He pointed to the deep cuts on his legs and chest.

"Those look really deep. Cause of death?"

"You'd think, but no. The killer stayed clear of any major veins and arteries."

"So what's cause of death?"

"Blood loss."

"You literally just said-"

"He didn't bleed out through any of these wounds; he's got a single slice right along his brachial artery."

"Do we know what was used to cut him up?"

"Standard kitchen knife. Dime a dozen, available anywhere knives are sold."

"Great. Anything else interesting?"

"A couple of things. First, there were signs of dehydration, but not malnutrition."

"Any idea on how long they had him?"

"About two weeks, probably."

"The killer kept him fed while they tortured him for two weeks? Why would someone do that?" Virgil muttered. "The second interesting thing?"

"Particulates indicate that he was held in a warehouse. Nothing more specific than that, unfortunately; the killer did a really good job of covering their tracks."

"Just not good enough. Okay, let's talk about the second vic?"

"Indeed. Kyle Ren. Just finished his autopsy, in fact."

"Cool. Okay, let's start with what's the same between the two."

"Same ligature marks, although it appears that the killer kept him longer; I'd say closer to three weeks. He was also dehydrated but not malnourished. He was also tortured, but very differently."

"How different?"

"Orin had a relatively few, deep cuts. Kyle's arms are covered with dozens of shallow cuts. Obviously, he was hit in the fact repeatedly, and the killer removed some of the flesh on his chest. Two rectangles, one on each pectoral."

"That's so weird. There was no flesh removal on Orin?"

"Nope."

"What was going on in this guy's head? Anyway, what are these on his thighs?"

"Electrical burns."

"So the killer cut, beat, and electrocuted him, sliced part of his chest off, and finally strangled him while also keeping him fed?"

"That's consistent with what I've found, yes."

"This guy is smart, angry, and escalating. Damn it. Okay, thanks, Vincent."

"My pleasure, Virgil. Hopefully we'll see each other again under better circumstances?"

"Maybe. By the way, and you really don't have to answer, but how did you decide you wanted to be a coroner?"

"Oh, it's quite the story. I was studying to be a forensic anthropologist in DC, and I got shot by a serial killer we were closing in on. I survived, obviously, and when I recovered… I don't know. Flesh and blood was a lot more interesting. So I finished my anthropology doctorate and went back for pathology."

"That's nuts. I'm glad you made it, and even more glad you're out here. You're a cool guy, Vincent. I gotta go talk to Kyle's next of kin. It was great meeting you."

"You too!"

--------

"Mason!" Virgil flinched when his captain's voice echoed through the bullpen. He took a deep breath before answering the summons.

"Yes, sir?" He asked once he reached Captain Sanders' office.

"Come in, it's time we talk about the case."

"Yes, sir." Virgil took a seat in one of the chairs across from Sanders' desk before continuing. "I met with the second victim's parents today- they confirmed the killer's assertion that he was a fascist. The pieces of flesh removed had swastika and Confederate flag tattoos. Apparently his grandfather was a high-ranking officer in the German military in World War 2. The victim was very vocal about his beliefs online; we have a tech team looking into his online interactions for potential suspects."

"Good. Now, tell me about the killer."

"He's wicked smart and almost certainly has a medical background. He's what we call mission-oriented, and his mission is vengeance. He's detail-oriented and covers his tracks well, but I don't think he has a criminal background before these kills."

"Killers usually do. Why not him?"

"How he treats the bodies after killing them. The things he did to his victims before killing them were violent and messy, but he cleaned them up and covered them carefully with leaves like a blanket. Yes, the cleaning served the purpose of eliminating most of the particulate evidence, but the clean clothes in the right size shows an extra step of care. He also kept the victims well-fed. He wanted them healthy, aside from the torture. It may seem illogical, but he has very high empathy. He punishes his victims because he genuinely cares about people.

Once he's punished them as he sees fit, they're human again, and deserving of respect and care. The violence is tied to the victim's crimes or sins, however he chooses to label them. Our killer isn't violent or malicious outside of the conditions that triggered the killings; he's probably perceived in his community as perfectly normal. Not creepy like Dahmer or manipulative like Bundy. Just an average person. He's probably lived in the area a long time, if not his entire life, and has a stable, long-term job."

"Sounds like he's going to be hard to catch. What's with the puzzle pieces, though?"

"He will make a mistake sooner, rather than later. The puzzle pieces are a taunt, daring us to solve the puzzle of who he is. He wants our attention, he wants to prove that he's smarter than we are. And that's what's going to hang him. He sees himself as an avenging angel, but he's just an Icarus."

"How does that help us catch him?"

"Honestly, sir, I'm still working on that part. I want to consult some papers from an old colleague before I add any more details to my official preliminary profile. I have a few ideas, but he was always better with mission-oriented killers than I am. I know it isn't the answer you want, but I learned the hard way how dangerous jumping to conclusions can be when dealing with someone like this."

"Mason…" Sanders started, softly.

"With all due respect, captain, don't start with that. I'm fine. I just want to make sure we do this by the book. Like you said on my first day- 'we can't let this become another Zodiac fiasco'."

"I can't say I like you using my exact words against me, but your work has been above reproach. I'm officially declaring this case yours and yours alone- I won't pressure you to partner up anymore. Just keep me in the loop okay?"

"Of course. Thank you, sir."

"You've earned it. Now shoo, you've got more important things to do than sit here with me."

"Okay." Virgil chuckled as he stood up and left.

---

"Patton don't do this. It's not a good idea. You don't know who this guy is, how much of a threat he might pose to us and our work."

"You do realize you sound just like them, right, Logan? Thinking you know best, trying to tell me what I can and can't do because of how it might affect you instead of thinking about what I want and need."

"That's not fair. You know that I love you, and they never loved either of us. I want you to stay safe; I can't protect you if I don't know who you're associating with."

"How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to protect me any more? I know you mean well, but you have to trust me. You said yourself that I'm better with people than you are." Patton paused. "This isn't about protecting me at all, is it? It's about how you know that without me, you're alone. You have nothing without me, and you can't handle that."

"I… you're right. I need you, Patton." Logan admitted, falling to his knees.

Patton reached down and cupped Logan's face with their hands, tilting his face up. "Logan, you are and always will be the most important thing in my life. But I can't shake the feeling that getting to know him could change everything in the best way."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about, but I'll trust your instincts. I love you, Pat."

"I love you too, Logan. Thank you." Patton walked to their room, leaving Logan on his knees in the living room, alone with his thoughts.

Patton's right; this date changes everything. If we are deviating from the pattern in favor of indulging other desires, well, I would be a fool to let this opportunity pass.

#sanders sides #logicality #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fan fiction #my writing #human au #serial killer au #trust me

12 notes · View notes

chrysaliseuro2019 · 5 years ago

Text

Will the Poms Lose their Marbles

Monday morning and we are scheduled to catch up with old friend Doug Brister and wife Kaye. Doug and I had shared an apartment in London for a number of years in the 70s and also played a lot of football together for our local team in the Medway Towns. They now live in Leighton Buzzard and we met them at the British Museum. This was an opportunity to see some of the museum offerings prior to heading for the inevitable pub lunch. Top of the list, for me at least, was the Elgin Marbles. Liz has seen them before so has other exhibits in mind. We will be going to the Parthenon in the next few days and of course that's where Lord Elgin "borrowed" them from 200 years ago. We should see the remainder at the Acropolis museum in Athens when we get there. Much controversy about the British not returning them from whence they came. They are simply excellent. A series of scenes of a procession on marble tablets which decorated the Parthenon once upon a time. There are people on horseback, others walking and animals also in the procession. They are now white or grey but would have been coloured originally and the detail is still pretty good. Explanations are also good about what is happening on each tablet. Having now seen them they are among those artefacts which for me are so interesting and so extraordinary that you want to visit them every couple of years just to remind yourself and get that buzz of pleasure. Like a Van Gogh painting. Yes they should go back. It's hard to justify otherwise in my view especially now the Greeks have a dedicated museum awaiting them. The Rosetta Stone was another highlight of the visit. One of those artefacts that you know about but in my case did not have much detail of. Fascinating to learn how it was used to assist in the translation of Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic script as it was basically a decree which was issued in both hieroglyphics and Ancient Greek. Scholars were able to compare the two and ultimately this assisted in the translation of Egyptian texts which had proved impenetrable prior to that. Those were the highlights for me in a couple of hours visit though the Nereid monument from around 4th century BC in what was then the Persian Empire is worth an honourable mention. While the rest of were "marbling" Liz visited the Egyptian section and really enjoyed the artefacts including some of the macabre but fascinating procedures required to mummify people and animals. This may be too much information for some in which case skip to the next section. Apparently they sucked the brains out through the nose (explains a lot about what's going on at Collingwood), removed vital organs except the heart and embalmed them, put them in a container and then buried them with the mummy. They salted the body (with a chemical) to dry it out and then wrapped things up so to speak. Good job if you could get it though it's a dying art. See photos for other highlights of her visit. The 4 of us assembled for lunch which was always going to be in a hostelry serving good pub food (hopefully). The British Museum is in an area of London just north of Oxford St that I hardly ever visited when living here. Doug had local knowledge as he had worked here a lot though some of his old haunts seemed to have closed. We found a local and settled down with beers, wine and spirits (each to their own preference) and nattered away about old times and new and latest family development. Turns out my godson James, their son, is going to get hitched to the lovely Charmaine who we met when last in London (on the infamous night that England were eliminated in the semi final of the World Cup). So that was great news. Kaye had had a cataract op but generally speaking both in good health, touch wood. The food was pretty standard fare, sausage and mash, pie and mash and chicken and gammon. Good stuff. After a couple of hours (and a couple of rounds!) we headed off for a stroll in a Southerly direction down Charing Cross rd. The landmarks started to get more familiar to me within half a mile or so though some things have changed. Doug pointed to a corner and said remember the Sussex pub we used to frequent - that's where it used to be though I would never have picked it with the degree of building on that corner. His memory might have been a bit more vivid as he reminded me that that was where he got beaten up one night when a gang of blokes set on him and his brother in the pub after an altercation. Of course things would have been different if I had been there - 3 blokes would have received a pasting - we were lovers (well, mostly wannabe lovers) not fighters. Our memories of the place and our time together in London and elsewhere were mostly much happier than that particular night though and we laughed our way along or occasionally felt sad about lost friends as we discussed old times. We strolled through Soho and bought very tasty Portuguese tarts and up and down a few of the back streets pointing out different things we remembered - back street casinos, the club that Georgie Fame used to play at in Wardour St, the comedy club which was in the same premises as of all places Raymond's Revue Bar - a strip joint. It was at this club that Liz and I first saw Alexei Sayle, Rick Mayall, Adrian Edmonsson and Nigel Planer the stars of what was later the "Young Ones" back in 1980 or 1981. They were comically insane back then and very in your face but hilarious. Inevitably after a while further refreshments were required and we found a pleasant little pub not more than 100 metres from Piccadilly Circus and not really touristy. A couple more refreshments and we headed off after an interesting and fun day. Doug and Kaye are good and easy company and the years peel back every time we catch up. Wonderful to see them and slip immediately back into that comfortable familiarity you have with old friends. We found out that our hosts in London Peter and Sue had plans for the night and so headed out ourselves. Last time we were in London we had eaten at Mildred's vegetarian restaurant with Georgie. Style is modern Asian food. We managed to get in again after a short wait for a table and the food and ambience was equally as good as previously. Would thoroughly recommend to all in this vicinity. It had been a big and thoroughly enjoyable day and we headed home ready for a good sleep.

1 note · View note

ambitionsource · 5 years ago

Photo

AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “Before the Storm” [ 1.11 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

CH-CH-CH-CHANGES – The sophomore stars throw their hat in the ring for the chance to attend a highly regarded performance summer program, but only three students can progress from Adams to the final audition. Lucas has a daunting decision to make.

60 Minutes (15K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Birds of a Feather ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ The World Will Never Be the Same → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The halls of Adams greet us for the penultimate episode, cutting between shots of the setting we’ve come to know and love. Through windows in the doors, students rehearse in the music and dance studios. The locker hallways are pristine and decorated for the end of term. Graduation memorabilia is all around.

As the scenery shifts, the voice of Principal Hunter lectures on the importance of the school, everything that the institution stands for. Next to bulletin boards where students are welcome to jot down their summer plans to share, a display case in the atrium shows photos and mementos from the past school year. Les Mis is certainly included, as well as the winter showcase.

Jack: Adams exists to give students the chance to pursue a passion. Something important to them, so pivotal to their future endeavors and true happiness that they can’t even fathom doing anything else. It’s a silly notion, to some, but I’ve always admired that piece to it. That chance to give a young mind the power and potential to do whatever it is that they’ve always dreamed about.

Focus eases in on one advertisement on the bulletin board in particular – an informational flyer about the Kossal Summer Program, which has been referenced multiple times since the pilot. In bold lettering, the text “rising juniors only,” seems sharply emphasized.

Jack: More than anything, I try to give our students as much opportunity as possible. Getting here was the first step, and then I want to help them reach higher. Achieve further. Find access to doors and avenues that they may not have even known existed or felt capable of entering. I work hard to create that space. I work hard with all of the faculty and staff here to foster that environment, where any student can come to a safe, inclusive environment and throw their hat in the ring.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

It becomes clear why JACK HUNTER is monologuing. He is in his disciplinary meeting with WYATT LIVINGSTON, following their deduction that he is the one running AAA Confessions.

Jack: Thus, it’s always such a shame when someone deems to take advantage of this space, and twists it into something it shouldn’t be.

Wyatt doesn’t seem all that impressed. Jack questions him on why the hell he would create a page like this, or barring that, be a part of it in the first place. Wyatt claims he didn’t make the Insta, but Jack presses the question again. Not buying it.

Wyatt dispels Jack’s rosy view of the school, claiming it’s no oasis for creativity and collaboration. It’s a cesspool of egomaniacs and cutthroat competition, and he knows it. The whole reason that the AAAC even works at all is because of the collective terrible attitude at the school. It’s a “safe environment” for them to take shots at each other and be as repulsive and reductive as they all actually are.

Jack snaps at this, claiming that’s not entirely true. He references the very targeted attack on a single student just a few days ago with Lucas, which Wyatt clearly orchestrated and was not just the full petty whimsy of the student body. Unable to fully deny this, Wyatt admits his hand in making some of the initial posts, but he didn’t orchestrate anything. If anything, the Lucas White Trash Dump Day is a perfect example of what he’s talking about – he lit a match, and the sophomore class set the whole forest on fire with it.

Wyatt: Besides, it’s not my fault that everyone hates Lucas. He does that to himself.

Jack doesn’t want to hear anymore. He doesn’t think he can face it. He moves onto discussing punishment, positing what he believes are fair consequences – expulsion, effective immediately. This finally seems to knock Wyatt off his high horse. He claims that’s bullshit considering one student can beat up another and not get kicked out, but he makes a couple of mean anonymous posts and he’s on the chopping block?

Jack argues that it’s the principle of the thing, and that every situation is different. The situation between him and Lucas was an isolated incident with bigoted implications, whereas the page has been an ongoing toxic presence at the school –

Wyatt: But I don’t deserve to get punished for it! I didn’t create the page!

Jack: Fine. Fine, if that’s the case, then tell me who did. Tell me who should take the fall for this, and we can renegotiate your involvement.

Wyatt can’t, because he doesn’t know. Nobody does. Jack takes his silence as an admission of guilt, but it’s evident that he is truly distraught about taking the consequences for it. Perhaps the severity of the punishment may be a bit too harsh…

After a beat, Jack claims that he will take some time to determine the proper punishment. Until then, Wyatt would be smart to keep his head down and enjoy his last couple weeks of sophomore year without further trouble.

Wyatt rises in a huff, storming out. Jack waits until he exits before letting his composed facade crumble, obviously overwhelmed by the chaos this whole situation has caused.

Hopefully, it’s about to come to an end. But not without some major decisions…

Cue opening titles.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

ANGELA MOORE is at her desk in the black box classroom, fretfully flipping through the schedule of the touring spot she’s been offered. She’s cross-referencing it with her personal calendar, obviously not thrilled with how much it’s consuming of her current life.

She’s been waiting so long for an opportunity like this. It’s her dream, yet now that it’s in front of her she doesn’t know what to do with it. Angela lifts her head, gazing blankly at the empty classroom around her. Wondering what it would be like to leave it behind…

SHAWN HUNTER breaks her out of her daze, entering with coffee and a breakfast bagel. He hands it to her and she takes it gratefully. He tentatively asks if she’s made any decisions yet, to which she gives a definitive no. Still very much in the realm of indecision.

Shawn seems relieved that it’s not a guaranteed yes, but being in uncertain territory isn’t much better. But uncertain ground they’ll continue to tread…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Ain’t It Fun” as performed by Tufts Beezlebubs || Performed by Nigel Chey, Yindra Amino, Chai Fresco, Nick Yogi, Clarissa Cruz, and Haley Fisher

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

NIGEL CHEY leads this acapella rendition, playfully rehearsing with his fellow sophomores. It’s one of the few numbers we’ve seen so far that gives due focus to the other performers in the classroom, and it gives an upbeat (if subtly ominous) musical start to the episode.

He dances around the stage with YINDRA AMINO, CHAI FRESCO, NICK YOGI, CLARISSA CRUZ, and HALEY FISHER. In keeping with the truce, most of the techies are hanging around with them and half-grooving along while working on set pieces. DYLAN ORLANDO sways with ASHER GARCIA in a bouncy waltz, the latter somewhat singing along.

DAVE WILLIAMS shows off his usual terrible dancing. Nigel sings directly to JADE BEAMON at one point, and she just about passes out. Yogi films the jam session with his A/V club camera to commemorate the end of the year.

Absolutely charmed.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

While the acapella underscores, FARKLE MINKUS is making his way through the hallway after finishing up at his locker, headphones blocking out the rest of the world. He seems a little out of it, traversing the school with less of the impatient, high-maintenance energy than he was bursting with earlier in the year. Subtle, but definitely a shift.

DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON catch up to him, startling him into conversation. As he removes his headphones, he struggles to catch up to their fast-paced questioning.

Darby: … your audition number? We want to start taking bets on whether you’re going to be able to best Maya or not in this final epic diva showdown.

Farkle: My audi – okay, slow down pixies, and start over. I can’t understand you at warp speed.

They eagerly ask him if he has decided what song he’s using for his audition. Suddenly feeling as though he’s forgotten something, he asks them what the hell they’re talking about.

Sarah: The Kossal auditions? They’re this weekend. Preliminaries are going to be all this week. [ Like he’s stupid. ] You know, the most coveted opportunity of the year?

Farkle: Oh. Oh… yeah. Yeah, I guess I forgot.

Sarah raises her eyebrows, clearly shocked. Darby breezes right past it, telling him he should really start thinking about it, although he’s likely to do amazing regardless. As they flutter away, Farkle shakes off his daze.

He honestly can’t believe he forgot about the program he’s been waiting all year to audition for. But suppose when you actually get friends and stop being all-consumed by your one passion, that’ll do it to you.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

ERIC MATTHEWS is sitting down with RILEY MATTHEWS, obviously excited about whatever information he’s about to share with her. She still has her focus set on a different matter, though, and figures that’s what the meeting is going to be about.

Riley, hopefully: You’ve figured out who is running AAAC?

Eric: … still working on that. But making progress, undoubtedly.

Riley sighs, slouching back in her seat. Eric promises her that what he has to tell her is just as exciting, another great opportunity here at the end of term. He goes on to explain that at the conclusion to each school year, Michael Jacobs and the school board fund an art gala in which all the major art magnet schools from the area come together to celebrate their achievements of the past year and share in their love of the craft.

He slides a small invitation across the table for her to look at. On the front is a fancy-looking ballroom where the event is usually held, with details and logistics on the backside.

Eric: Now, obviously Jack and I will be attending, as principal and MVP of Adams.

[ Riley glances at him, giggling at his given title for himself. ]

Eric: But we’re allowed to bring one student as a representative for our school, and we were thinking you.

Riley: [ blinking, taking a moment to realize she heard him correctly ] Me – me? You want me?

Eric: The nomination was unanimous.

Riley is evidently stunned by this. Eric goes on to explain all that she helped achieve at AAA that year, particularly how instrumental she was in bridging the divide and improving the overall quality of culture in the sophomore class. There is no one else they can think of more deserving of the opportunity. She should be proud of everything she’s accomplished this year.

The caveat, however, is that the gala conflicts with the district-wide audition evening for Kossal. So should she get chosen from the school-level auditions to progress onward, she would have to decide which one to attend. Riley claims she’s not planning on auditioning anyway.

Eric: What? Why on Earth not?

Riley: Are you – are you serious? You literally just said to me –

Eric: You know, you’re right. You’re right, shh. We’ll unpack that later.

Eric opts instead to highlight all the fun aspects to the gala that Riley should start gearing up for. She gets to dress up! There’s performances, and dancing, and great food! Oh, and she gets to bring a plus one, so she should start thinking about who she might like to bring along.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Class has assembled for the day, bustling into their seats and alive with restless end-of-term energy as Angela brings their attention to the front. She goes on to talk further about the Kossal program, how it is an intensive six-week summer camp in upstate New York where participants are deeply immersed in the art of performance. It is one of the most highly anticipated opportunities of the year for the sophomore class. The program boasts many notable alumni, and they’ve rarely had a student attend it from AAA who didn’t see success in their future.

As she describes it, it’s evident that MAYA HART and Farkle are both totally invested. ZAY BABINEAUX seems inspired too, but less openly determined than the other two divas. Everyone else is somewhere in between, indecisive about whether it’s worth it to try for it at all.

Angela continues on, explaining the catch – given it’s highly selective criteria, the audition process is staggered and competitive. It starts at the school level, where they will select three of their best students to move on to the district-wide auditions. From there, one lucky student from Adams will get to experience the program.

The techies are like… great. This week is going to be hell, isn’t it. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ exchanges a look with DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA, who look less than enthused. Angela dismisses them to work on their auditions or final projects, whichever they deem fit.

In the wings, Farkle pulls Maya aside. In an attempt to preserve their new and blossoming friendship, he proposes that they should help one another with their auditions. Essentially, be there to support one another rather than fall into their usual habits. Given the circumstances, it’s very unlikely that they both won’t progress to the next round, and he doesn’t want their naturally competitive instincts to come between them.

Maya is surprised and a bit hesitant towards this initiative, but she’s not going to be the one to cause trouble. Besides, as far as she can tell, Farkle does seem entirely genuine in his motivations. She agrees with a “hell yeah,” taking a pass on the drama if they can hack it.

They shake on it, agreeing they’ll be on each other’s teams.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Zay is at his usual table, YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY occupying the other primary seats around him. They’re engaging in their typical comfortable conversation, Zay allowing them to take the brunt of it.

His focus shifts when CHARLIE GARDNER approaches with lunch in hand, coming to stand awkwardly by their table. He and Zay hold eye contact for a long moment, before Charlie asks if there’s room for him to join them. Although there’s clear tension, Yindra and Nigel don’t seem to pick up on it.

Zay claims there’s room, because he actually has to get going. He rises to leave without much more to say to Charlie. It’s clear this stings a bit, and Charlie watches him go before sliding into the seat he just vacated.

Yindra snaps him out of it when she asks whether or not he’s planning on auditioning for the Kossal program. Charlie says no, as he has a family obligation – there’s this big communal springfest dinner at his church that same night that is super important to his parents. His mother is part of the planning committee, and all that.

Nigel explains that he and Yindra were both considering it, but with only three spots and three known divas, it sort of seems like improbable odds. Charlie nods along, but he’s not really paying that much attention to their complaints. His gaze keeps lingering on the doors where Zay left.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

LUCAS FRIAR hastily makes his way from the hall to his bedroom towards the door, obviously on a mission. He has his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, slipping on his boots.

Lucas: I’ll be there in like five minutes, you can pick me up at the usual corner. [ a beat ] No, tell Dylan he’s not coming over. [ beat ] Yes, I have the fireworks, now could you –

From the kitchen, his mother calls out for him. This is pretty unusual, so Lucas tells Asher he’ll be there in a minute before hanging up and sauntering back towards the kitchen.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

Lucas pokes his head in, finding GRACE FRIAR seated at their small dining table. She’s petite, disarmingly beautiful, and looks deceptively too young to have a teenage son. She asks if he has a minute to chat about something. He starts to state that he has plans, but rather than explaining to his mother that he’s off to go set off illegal fireworks with his dumbass friends, he figures he can spare the few seconds to talk.

Lucas settles into the chair across from her, and the closer we are to her the more the cracks in her dainty exterior seem to show. There are healing bruises on her face from the events of 1.09, and once you notice them underneath the makeup, it’s hard to unsee.

She goes on to explain that through one of her friends at work, she was able to get in touch with the dean of admissions at McCullough, a private all-boys boarding school in upstate New York. Given Lucas’s excellent academic record at AAA – behavioral record aside – Grace believes that if he applied, he could totally get a spot in their elite student body for the last two years of high school. She wants to put his application in for the fall, if that’s something he might want.

Lucas, stunned: You mean… you mean like leave triple A?

Grace hurriedly explains that she knows AAA was never Lucas’s top choice as far as schooling. He never had any artistic interests, there were just no… better alternatives. But this school has excellent reviews, top rated academics. It’s in the countryside rather than the city, so maybe the fresh air could do him good. A little space. And all of its alumni go on to have successful careers as doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs – whatever Lucas decides he wants to do.

Lucas doesn’t know what to think. Never before has there been another option besides AAA, and the mere prospect of it seems impossible to fathom. Not to mention, so much has changed in the past year at the school he always claimed he hated. He doesn’t know how to answer.

Grace claims that he should take the next couple of weeks to consider it, as the application isn’t due until then anyway. It just might be a viable different route, an… escape from everything going on here. A loaded conversation to drop so suddenly…

Angela, pre-lap: How is anybody supposed to make a decision like this?

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Angela is hanging out with Eric in his office, both of them relaxing after the students have cleared out for the day. They’re sharing sodas in fancy glasses (i.e., what they’re allowed to consume on school property), and Eric is leaning back with his feet up on his desk as they muse.

Angela laments her current situation, definitely feeling torn between two worlds.

Angela: It’s like, all my life, I had one dream. This gig, this draining, paradoxical, invigorating art of performing, that was it for me. All of this from acing an audition to getting a spot on a tour or production, I mean, that was the whole plan, you know? That would fall into place, and the universe would do the rest.

Eric: I hear you, sister. Amen.

Angela: But here I am, finally steps away from the dream. It’s right in front of me. I can taste it. And… I’m holding back. I’m hesitating. How can I be hesitating now?

As Eric points out, there’s a chance her dreams have changed. She certainly has, as has he, and everyone else they know. Hell, look at how much they’ve all grown in just this school year alone.

Eric: Beginning of this year, Jack and I fought about everything.

Angela: Believe me, I remember.

Eric: You and Shawn couldn’t even look at each other, and the school was at war. Quite literally, given everything that conspired after.

Now, all things considered, they’ve found harmony. They’ve found peace, and they’re on their way to almost quelling the last remaining symbol of bad blood. They opened themselves to change, and it turned out to be exactly what they needed.

Eric: Change happens, and it’s scary. But it can be good. You shouldn’t run from it. In fact, it may behoove you to listen to what it’s trying to tell you.

Angela ruminates on this, taking a long sip of her cola. Much to think about.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Zay is eating dinner with OMAR BABINEAUX and DONNA BABINEAUX, attempting to find the right time to tell them about the summer program. As Omar wraps up discussing a new development at work, Zay takes a deep breath and gears up to speak. Donna beats him to it, however, suddenly remembering an important news bulletin they meant to share with him.

His older sister Jada was selected for an exclusive study abroad program this summer. She’ll be studying fashion in Milan and Paris, so they’re planning a family vacation there as well to take advantage of the opportunity. It’s an exciting update, but definitely throws a potential wrench into Zay’s quest for Kossal.

Donna: Isn’t that exciting?

Zay: Oh, yeah. Yeah, that’s… I mean, dope.

Omar: What were you going to say, Zay? Looked like you had something on your mind.

Zay: Just that, uh… my grades have really turned around since fall semester. So the tutoring did actually help. That’s all.

He doesn’t push the issue further, allowing his parents to congratulate him and take back control of the conversation. Might as well be a sign… right?

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Jack and Shawn are having their traditional dinner. Shawn raises his glass in a toast, cheering on Jack for catching the dumbass who was running the AAAC. Jack takes the praise, but hesitantly. After they both drink, Jack expresses his qualms about how to progress with punishment towards Wyatt.

Shawn shares no such reluctance to be brutal.

Shawn: What do you do when you catch a cold, Jackie?

Jack: Down a pint of Gatorade and hope for the best.

Shawn: [ with an eye roll ] Okay, how about a malignant mole? A tumor? Any sort of cancerous presence?

Jack: Well I’ve been lucky enough not to –

Shawn: You remove it. You cut the thing out so it’s disease can’t spread. It’s that simple.

Jack points out that some might say similar rhetoric about, say… Lucas, to which Shawn scoffs. He claims that they’re completely different situations.

Shawn: Listen, Friar is a mess all his own. I would know. But he isn’t going around using slurs towards other students, or posting increasingly vitriolic hate just to rile people up. There’s a difference.

Jack references the fact that Wyatt claims he’s not the moderator, that there’s another student running it. Shawn blows this off, stating that has to be a lie.

Shawn: [ with his mouth full ] I would know. I used to lie to get out of trouble all the time.

Jack: Once again, you continue to reassure me of your right state of mind to be teaching the youth of tomorrow…

Shawn states that Jack knows what the right decision is, he’s just wallowing in it. And if he won’t do the right thing, then he’ll just take matters into his own hands. Jack knows he’s just shooting the breeze, but he is also like don’t do anything stupid please, I have enough to deal with.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

That night, it’s just CORY MATTHEWS and Riley there for dinner at the apartment. In the midst of the meal, Cory congratulates her on being selected as representative, and there’s a soft moment between them reflecting on just how far she’s come in a year. He’s so, so proud of her.

She agrees that there is a lot to think about, like what she’s going to wear and who she should bring along. Cory additionally mentions the decision over which song to perform for her audition for the summer program, until Riley expresses that she isn’t planning on auditioning.

Much like Eric, Cory is totally opposed to this notion. He states that she should at least throw her hat in the ring, and it’s even more low stakes for her considering if she doesn’t make it to the district level, she has another plan already in place.

Cory: Other potential conflicts aside, you shouldn’t keep yourself from getting the chance to run the bases by never letting yourself take one swing at bat.

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

This sentiment is still lingering with Riley as she gets ready for bed. She hesitates, glancing up at her moodboard to search for inspiration.

It’s drastically different than when it was first made, more intricate and decorated than ever. Lots of little details have been added, including photos of her classmates, playbills from Les Mis, and lots of other little mementos throughout the school year.

She zeroes in on one item in particular – a scrap of notebook paper. It’s the note she and Lucas were passing back in forth in 1.10, during Maya and Farkle’s rendition of “Bop to the Top.” While the majority of it is just a back and forth about how Lucas doesn’t know what the movie is and he thinks Maya and Farkle aren’t that good, the most important statement is the last.

As Riley is defending their performing abilities, he’s followed up with a very bold counterargument: “You’re better.”

It’s evident that is the reason the conversation is hanging up at all. She hangs on this, lightly smiling… wheels are beginning to turn in her head again…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie shows up to the auditorium early, finding Zay on the stage exactly as he hoped he would. He’s running through what would have been his audition routine, the vaguely familiar orchestral arrangement from A Chorus Line playing on his iPhone speaker. Charlie hangs back and watches for a moment, in awe of Zay’s obvious skill as always.

Charlie: Looks pretty good.

Zay is surprised by his presence, both because he didn’t realize he was there and because he’s suddenly deeming him worth talking to again. He rushes to turn off his speaker, taking a second to catch his breath. Then he forfeits the stage, saying that he’ll get out of his way if he needs to use it. Charlie rushes to stop him, asking if he’ll give him just half a second to talk.

Zay looks wary, but he doesn’t leave. He crosses his arms, waiting for Charlie to say his piece.

Charlie: I’m sorry I’ve been acting so distant. Ghosting you, and stuff. I don’t have an excuse. I’ve just been… it’s been weird.

Zay: Bit of an understatement.

Charlie: I haven’t exactly felt like myself much, lately. [ a beat, then he laughs ] Honestly, it’s more like I don’t even know what “myself” actually is. Kind of wondering if maybe I ever did.

[ It’s really hard not to empathize with him. Zay is clearly softening. ]

Charlie: Anyway, it’s not a good reason to treat you the way I did. I can’t explain why I did what I did, but I’m genuinely sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings. And regardless of what’s going on with me, I don’t want to lose you. I mean, someone has to be able to keep up with me around here.

Zay can’t help but chuckle, earning a hopeful smile from Charlie. But the deal isn’t closed yet.

Charlie, sincerely: I understand if you can’t forgive me. I just wanted you to know.

There’s a moment of silence. Charlie may as well be holding his breath. Then, Zay sighs.

Zay: I don’t know what your so-called God has you used to, but I wouldn’t call what you did unforgivable. Or maybe I’m just a gracious deity.

Jokes aside, he’s accepting the apology. Charlie is clearly relieved, laughing in spite of himself and nodding. Zay mirrors his smile, before prodding further on what he mentioned earlier.

Zay: What did you mean by that? Not feeling like yourself?

Charlie: I don’t know. It’s like… do you remember during acoustic week, we talked about your lack of friends?

Zay: Well, I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but yes.

Charlie: It’s… I guess it’s kind of like that. What I talked about, that feeling where you feel like you’re outside yourself. Only… way worse. Like now I’m out there, and I don’t even recognize the person I’m looking at. It doesn’t feel like me anymore. Or maybe it never really was.

Zay can tell that Charlie is seriously struggling with this. Charlie goes on to explain that he was scared that things were changing, but now he doesn’t even know if that’s the case anymore. He isn’t sure if things are changing, or if he’s just becoming aware of how things already are. He can’t figure out which is worse.

Vague cryptic statements aside, Zay states that he’s there to help if he thinks he needs it. Charlie thinks on it, before agreeing that just doing something fun to get his mind off everything might be exactly what he needs.

Charlie: And, well, you’ve always been the expert on that front.

Zay: This we know. I’ll see what I can do.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley catches Isadora in the hall, asking if she’s seen Lucas. After she suggests checking the usual places, Riley follows up by asking whether or not Isadora is planning on auditioning for the summer program. Her derisive laugh is enough of a response.

Isadora: Are you kidding me? I’m not trying to insert myself into that bloodbath. Farkle, Maya, and Zay can take it, I’m not aiming to scrap in the last two weeks of school.

A valid analysis of the situation. Even still, Riley makes her focus on her as she states that she truly believes Isadora is good enough to earn herself a spot on her own merit. Then she flutters off, Isadora unable to hold back the ghost of a smile at the touching sentiment.

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

Maya and Farkle are in the same practice room where they met for tutoring in 1.03, running through some scales together with the latter on piano. They’re interrupted when KATY HART shows up, nervously poking her head in and clearly not sure if she’s in the right place. Maya eagerly leaps forward to greet her, hugging her and guiding her into the space.

Farkle is surprised, Maya quickly catching them both up to speed. She explains that her mother had never seen the inside of the school before, so she was able to work something out with Jack so that she could come by for lunch and stick around to see her audition. Katy expresses awe over how state-of-the-art the facilities are, Maya walking her through everything in their current room. Farkle watches them, obviously touched by their tight-knit relationship.

As Maya goes into further detail about what their practicing for and the summer program, Katy grows anxious again. She’s uncertain about the financial aspect of it. Farkle jumps in, helpfully stating that the summer program is all-expenses paid. That’s partially why their audition process is so thorough – they want to make sure only the most deserving and talented students are mixing and mingling at this shindig.

Good news, for the Harts at least. Katy brightens again, eagerly requesting to hear a little bit of what they’ve been working on. Maya claims that she’ll get to see the full audition in just a bit, but she pleads for a sneak preview. Farkle raises his eyebrows, wiggling his fingers over the keys to show he’s ready.

Maya relents, gesturing her mother towards the chairs to settle in and listen. Then she exchanges a look with Farkle, nodding to count each other in. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Then, as Farkle hits the first chord…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Listen” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Maya Hart

Maya kicks off this brassy display of her vocal talent, true evidence to how hard she’s worked all year. “The Wizard and I” was impressive, but this is a whole new level of ambition. It’s raw with emotion, even more so given the fact that her mother is there to witness. She smiles at her as she sings, obviously one of her greatest sources of inspiration.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

As the performance continues, it shifts to Maya center stage performing for Angela, Shawn, Jack, and Eric. A large crop of her classmates are there to cheer her on as well – Farkle, Zay, Charlie, Riley, Isadora, Darby, Sarah, etc. How nice it is, seeing the divas show up to support one another rather than tear each other down…

As she finishes, her classmates burst into resounding applause. Angela, grinning, thanks her. Katy wipes a couple of tears. Maya can’t stop smiling, nodding gratefully with the spotlight shining all around her.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Lucas and Isadora are at lunch, the latter rattling off what she thinks her summer plans are going to be with this short film idea that came to her during first period. She’s already got storyboards going in a notebook.

Lucas isn’t listening. He’s distracted, watching the other goobs in his techie crew throw food at each other and crack up and live their generally silly existences. Isadora realizes he’s a million miles away and snaps him out of it, asking him if he heard a word she said.

Lucas: Please. Of course I did.

Isadora: Right. So what was I thinking was going to be the climactic plot twist that makes the entire short and dare I say rivals Alfred Hitchcock?

Lucas: You know I don’t understand that reference.

Isadora, bluntly: You really should. Well?

Lucas: … okay. Okay! I wasn’t listening. You caught me, congratulations. You’re Sherlock of the month.

Isadora makes an offhand comment about how she doesn’t see why she bothers to open her mouth, but Lucas is already zoning out again. It’s clear that the decision of McCullough is all he can think about, so he ventures the topic – albeit vaguely – with his most trusted source.

Lucas: Can I ask you a question?

Isadora: Was that not just a question?

Lucas, deadpan: You’re fucking hilarious, seriously.

Isadora: [ with a smirk ] I know. Anyway, go on.

Lucas finds a way of twisting the decision to leave into a thinly veiled alternative scenario, almost like… a scientific hypothetical. Something she would inherently understand.

Isadora: You realize that most often supposed “hypotheticals” are in fact very real situations that one is simply posing as a hypothetical –

He waves her off, going with the ruse anyway. He lays it all down before asking for her advice as to how she would proceed to make the most effective choice. She plainly states that she would make a list of pros and cons to each outcome. From there, it’s far simpler to deduce the best method moving forward.

Lucas absorbs this, nodding along and thanking her. Then she continues on with her film sketch, but he’s already checked out again. Already mentally crafting his list…

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Sarah and Darby are in the dressing room with Chai, hanging out before class resumes. As Darby touches up her makeup, the three of them discuss whether or not they’re auditioning. Sarah complains it’s not really worth trying either way, and Chai concurs. But she blithely states she wasn’t planning on auditioning anyway. In fact, she won’t be returning next year, either.

Darby: [ whipping around and smearing mascara on her cheek ] Oh my God, WHY?

Chai: Relax, Darbs. It’s not goodbye forever. I was able to work out a study abroad sort of situation with Principal Hunter given that I’ll be spending the year in London.

Sarah: London? Where the hell did that come from?

Chai: Well, papa’s still attempting to win over me and mom after getting caught with his pants down with the secretary in our parlor –

Darby, sadly: It’s always the parlor… I’m so glad we don’t have one.

Chai: So he’s paying for me to spend the year across the pond. And it’s like what, am I gonna say no? I can hate his guts and spend his money, thank you very much. I’ll be studying the dramatic arts in the birthplace of Shakespeare, Andrew Lloyd Webber, wandering the West End…

Certainly a not-too-shabby alternative to AAA for a year, that’s for sure. Their conversation is interrupted as Riley enters to drop her things, Darby cheerfully posing the same question to her. Despite her former hesitation, Riley admits that she’s been considering it more and more. Sarah scoffs, asking her if she thinks she stands a chance against the divas. Riley shrugs and states that even if she doesn’t, that’s not a good enough reason to sit it out entirely.

Chai applauds her confidence, but manages to underhandedly point out that it will give her yet another opportunity to publicly fumble like she did all the time at the start of the year. Sarah laughs along and Darby can’t help but giggle, although her expression is more apologetic.

Riley takes the hit, wishing all of them well with their own endeavors and keeping her chin up before heading out to the auditorium. Chai watches her go, but the expression on her face isn’t resentment. In some ways, it seems closer to envy.

Darby: Hm. Maybe I’ll audition, too.

Sarah: Yeah, uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.

INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY

Jack manages to catch Angela in the teacher’s lounge, brewing a thermos of coffee before she’s due back in the auditorium. He requests a moment to chat with her if she can spare it, which she happily does. The two of them settle in at a round table.

Jack poses the Wyatt problem, giving as much context as possible before asking Angela what she would do in his shoes. He notes the perspective he’s already gotten from Shawn. Angela grants that she isn’t surprised at all that he had that response, but is reluctant to provide her own.

Angela: I don’t know if you want to ask me. I can hardly make my own choices.

Jack: I just want to know your thoughts. Honestly.

Angela hesitates. She explains that she knows what Wyatt did was irrevocably wrong, from the despicable words to Isadora all the way through to the involvement with the confessions page and his targeted derision towards Lucas. It’s bullying in all its varied forms, and it shouldn’t be tolerated. Even still… she expresses hesitation at ousting him so harshly and hastily.

When Jack prods further, Angela points out that Wyatt is still one of her students. He’s making dozens of poor choices, she can concede that, and he deserves to be punished. But she’s also seen him in his brighter moments, instances of participation and camaraderie and learning. That exists in him just as much as the nastiness. As Jack has said himself, it’s never simply black and white, especially with adolescents who have so much growing to do.

For Angela, it just seems a little cruel to kick him out with so little time left in the school year. But she’s a softie, she claims, so what does she know? Maybe that’s not the best advice. Especially if he intends to leave an impression to deter others from exhibiting the same behavior. Jack thanks her regardless, insisting that her feedback was helpful.

Jack, softly: If you do decide to leave us this year as well, you will be sorely missed. I can promise you that.

Ouchie. Angela nods, suddenly a little more somber than before as Jack leaves her to it.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Charlie is out with Zay, the two of them walking side by side as they make their way through the streets while keeping up a conversation. Zay refuses to tell him where they’re headed. Charlie is nervous, but also clearly excited. Invigorated with that infectious energy he gets from being around Zay Babineaux.

Zay declares they’ve made it, turning the corner. Curious, Charlie jogs to keep up.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DANCE LOT - DAY

Zay has dragged them to a back alley park, the empty lot transforming into a break dance spot in the after school hours. A group of a couple dozen or so students is assembled, both older and younger than them. It’s sort of an impromptu crew, coming here after school to jam and challenge each other and just groove together. Most of them are also quite similar to Zay in displaying confidence in their unique sense of style – and come off pretty distinctly queer.

Charlie is more than intimated. He states he can’t do this before whipping around and trying to leave, but Zay grabs his shoulders and pulls him back. He braces him, going on to explain that as long as they’ve been friends – hell, even just classmates – Charlie has always seemed most centered when he’s dancing. These people, they’re the exact same, in fact they’re the experts at using it for self-expression. Zay is positive Charlie has never experienced dancing with freedom quite like this.

There’s a moment where it seems like maybe he’s being convinced… but no. He’s still scared. He tries to run again but is thwarted when one of the older, more respected members of the crew greets Zay and calls them over. Nowhere to hide, Charlie sheepishly follows Zay as he bounces over to greet his acquaintance.

Zay eagerly introduces Charlie, nudging him into standing straighter and not shying away from the moment. The assembled dancers sort of swarm and welcome him warmly, asking him what kind of dancing he’s into and if he thinks he can keep up. After a little bit of banter, let the dancing jam session begin!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Step Up” as performed by Samantha Jade || Instrumental

Yes, it’s the title track from Step Up. Yes, this entire sequence sort of feels like it’s ripped straight out of a Step Up movie. But that’s all part of the fun, and watching the teenagers all groove together and encourage each other is engaging to watch. The dancing is fresh, enthusiastic, clearly important to every single one of the kids assembled there.

Charlie is no exception. It takes a little while him to loosen up, the other dancers showing him new moves or helping him get comfortable. But true to Zay’s word, once he relaxes it’s like he transforms – he’s a completely different person. In his element, grounded, alive.

When the bridge hits (“And when the symphony plays, I feel my feet / Lifting from underneath”), focus zeroes in on just Zay and Charlie. In an instant they’re pulled together, and suddenly they’re dancing more with one another than we’ve seen thus far. Sure, they’ve done duets before, but never have they experimented with a dance that really includes the other.

But it’s good. Really good. And it seems pretty natural for the both of them to work out. As the bridge descends back into the chorus, they blend back with the rest of the crew and end out the jam session. Afterwards, the crew applauds, pulling Charlie into the group and giving him pats on the back. A new source of family, maybe…

His smile is impressively bright. Zay mirrors it. It’s impossible not to.

INT. AAA - SHAWN’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Angela and Shawn are at his apartment, having just finished up watching a movie. Well, sort of watching a movie, sort of on the road to Netflix and chilling.

After breaking a kiss, Angela tentatively broaches the topic of what will happen for the two of them if she decides to go on tour. Shawn bristles a bit, claiming that she’s decided then. She disputes this, stating that she’s far from having decided anything in an attempt to keep the situation from imploding. But Shawn has already pulled away, getting to his feet and busying himself by turning off the TV and hitting the lights.

Angela: Shawn, would you listen to me? I haven’t made a choice. I’m just… I’m trying to figure out my plan.

Shawn: You can’t make plans until after you’ve made the decision! [ off her expression ] You’re avoiding it because you don’t want to choose. You want there to be an easy out, but there’s not. You have to decide.

After a little more back and forth, Shawn points out that this is starting to feel eerily like the conversations they had right before the last time things ended badly between them. Angela frowns, stating that it’s different this time. They’re different.

But Shawn has already been emotionally spooked. He asks if he can be alone for a bit, retreating to the bedroom and leaving her alone to stew in it. Angela groans, flopping back on the couch and covering her face.

Weird, how not making a decision can almost make things worse…

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - NIGHT

Charlie and Zay are getting a late dinner at Chubbie’s, a credit in part to Charlie’s growth considering plenty of people can see them there who know them. But they’re friends, after all, so what does he have to hide? Just dancing pals.

He thanks Zay for taking him to the lot, stating that while he’s not entirely upright again, he does feel better. Zay is happy to have helped. When the two of them reach for the plate of fries at the same time, there’s a moment where their hands brush together and that tension returns between them again. Zay glances at Charlie, who is staring at their hands.

Then, Charlie proceeds for the fry as normal. Not commenting on the moment, but not immediately shying away from it either.

As he pops the fry into his mouth, he asks Zay what his plan for the summer program is. The number he was working on in the auditorium seemed pretty legit. Zay shrugs it off, claiming he’s not doing the audition. Charlie nearly chokes on his fries.

Zay: Jesus, man. [ sliding his water across the table in case he needs it ] If you survived the scary dancing pit, don’t let a stray potato take you out.

Charlie: What do you mean you’re not auditioning?

Zay: It’s no biggie. My family has this whole summer plan already, and I don’t want to mess with it. Not to mention the Farkle and Maya of it all, who knows what they might do if someone presents even a shred of competition –

Charlie, incredulously: I can’t believe I’m hearing this right now. You need to audition. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you’re too good to pass it up.

Zay: Um, could say the same to you.

Charlie: Yeah, thanks, but I’ve got enough going on internally without adding a stressful audition into the mix. Think you can admit to that.

Zay: Yes, you certainly are a bit of a basketcase at the moment…

Case in point, Zay needs to do this. Charlie won’t hear anything else, and he’s sure his family will understand. He at least needs to try. Zay contemplates this – the notion of actually giving it a shot as well as Charlie getting fired up on his behalf – before eating another fry.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Farkle is gearing up for his audition, doing vocal warm-ups and mouth stretches in the mirror. Yogi and Dave are also present, shooting the breeze and poking fun at Farkle’s pre-show rituals. Dave shares that he heard Riley might be auditioning too, which freaks out Farkle. He wasn’t expecting more than the three of them to audition, and suddenly the calm of this whole situation feels precarious.

Maya pokes her head in, checking for Farkle and telling him they’re ready. Yogi and Dave tell him to break a leg, but he ignores them as he marches out of the dressing room.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Farkle and Maya make their way into the wings, the spotlight gleaming on stage and waiting for him. He stands apprehensively in the shadow of the curtains, suddenly prickling with stage fright he’s never really experienced before.

Maya gives him a bracing pat on the shoulder, pulling him out of his own head. She jostles him a bit, giving him a smirk and assuring him that he’s got this.

Wow, how nice it is to have friends instead of adversaries. Farkle nods, exhaling through his lips and regaining his performance mojo.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Not the Boy Next Door” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

The instrumental precedes him, setting us up for a jaunty, energetic solo as Farkle marches his way onto the stage. It’s an enthusiastic and skillful performance, delivering all of the star power and talent that he’s been serving since “Man About Town” but leaner, looser, more an expression of heart rather than a strangled declaration of perfectionism.

More than anything, it’s clear he’s having fun, which can’t be said for every performance he’s given over the course of the year. He totally loses himself in the number, spurred on by the encouraging cheers from his classmates who came out to see him – notably Maya and Riley, amongst scattered other performers.

He’s out of breath when he belts out the final note, but boy, did he make an impression. Angela thanks him proudly, the rest of the judges smiling as well.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is alone in the booth, in his usual chair. He’s got his pros and cons list in a small notebook, tapping his pen against it as he contemplates it. Presently, there’s a couple more cons than pros.

He raises his gaze to look at the booth around him. Much like the moment that gripped Angela in the black box, Lucas becomes acutely aware of the fact that he may never be back in this space after the school year is done. It’s oddly surreal. His pen starts tapping faster out of instinct.

He’s broken out of his fugue when Riley pops in, knocking lightly before stepping inside.

Riley: I hope I’m not intruding.

Lucas: No, uh, no. It’s fine. You’re fine. What’s up?

Riley can tell he’s not quite himself, but she chooses to brush past it for now. She’s a bit nervous herself, given what she’s there to talk to him about. After a bit of beating around the bush – a pointed eyebrow raises from Lucas to make it evident he knows she’s beating around the bush – Riley works up the courage to ask him to be her date to the Jacobs gala.

Before he can respond, she launches into a frantic ramble explaining exactly what it is and what he’d be expected to do. Lucas does his best to absorb her words at warp speed, obviously stunned she considered to ask him at all.

Riley: [ following her breathless explanation ] Essentially, it’s just a fanciful folly for the arts, but apparently I’m good enough to represent. And I’m supposed to bring a plus one, and I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I just keep… I figured it might be nice to have a technician there as well. I couldn’t think of another person better suited for the job.

Lucas: … wow.

Lucas, still slow from the shock, admits that he’s flattered. And he concurs that her reasoning makes sense, bringing a technician along and all that. Riley nods along, chewing her lip and twisting her fingers together.

Lucas: But uh… no.

Riley: No. [ blinking ] No?

Ouch. Lucas presses his lips together, managing a shake of his head. Suddenly, the booth feels a million times more claustrophobic. As Riley tries to digest this turn of events, Lucas scrambles to provide an explanation of his own.

Lucas: Again, I really appreciate you considering me. But it seems like a pretty important thing for the school, or whatever, and a whole glamorous to-do. I just think that there’s a lot riding on you, here, and you should present yourself accordingly. Pick someone more… fitting to the role.

Riley: [ timidly ] What if I think you fit the role?

Well, hard to argue with that. Yet somehow, Lucas finds a way, still declining the invitation although with less certainty the second time around.

Riley is stung, stumbling out a few assurances of “cool” and “sure.” Lucas is apologetic, seemingly genuinely so, but at present Riley just needs to escape. She makes an excuse and darts out of there, Lucas watching her go. There’s a moment where it looks like he might go after her, but it passes without action.

Instead, Lucas sighs and pulls his notebook back onto his lap. He stares at his lists, grabbing his pen and adding Riley to the bottom of it. It’s in the middle of the page, not clear at all which column she falls under.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

As Donna prepares for dinner and Omar chats with her from the table with his work, Zay barrels into the room and declares that he has something to tell them. He doesn’t give them the chance to react as he claims he wants to audition for the Kossal summer program, rattling off what it is and why he wants to do it. He states that he wants to go on the summer trip and this may not even work out, but the chance feels too important to ignore and really important to him.

When he finishes, he’s out of breath. He stares at his parents, wide-eyed, waiting for their reaction. Unsurprisingly they are more than supportive, telling him to go for it and show everyone at that school why he is the best they’ve got. The rest, they’ll figure out later. Zay exhales in relief and hugs his mom, earning a laugh from her.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay retreats to his bedroom, obviously in far better spirits than earlier in the week. He crafts a message to Charlie, before deciding that’s not enough. He pulls up his contact, dialing his number instead.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie sees Zay light up his phone, grabbing it and escaping out to his balcony. He answers on the fourth ring, not keeping him hanging.

Zay tells him what his parents said, and that he’s going to audition. Charlie congratulates him, claiming that he knew it would all work out.

Zay: How is it when I always think I’ve got the one-up on you, you repay the favor before I even realize it?

Charlie, charmed: Well, I have to be the expert at something in this relationship.

Zay hangs on his acknowledgement of their friendship as a “relationship,” before pushing past it. He repeats the sentiment that his parents said about proving that he is the best AAA has, and Charlie seconds it without hesitation.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Music and the Mirror” as performed by A Chorus Line Original Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Starting from the opening piano tinkles, focus is solely with Zay on the stage. As much an honorary diva as he is, he’s more so a team player than anything else, so this ownership of center stage feels long overdue.

And boy, is it worth the wait. Zay absolutely destroys the classic triple-threat number, singing the hell out of it and then proceeding to dance the hell out of it. It’s four minutes dedicated to giving the star our undisputed attention, and it feels more earned than words can describe.

As the dance unfolds in the second half, focus cuts to some of the friends who have come to see him audition. Nearly the entire class is there considering how popular he is, all in awe of his dancing ability as they should be. Charlie looks prouder than ever. Riley is basically jumping out of her seat from excitement. That’s her first friend!

The judges are deeply impressed, and seemingly grateful at their current three auditionees there’s not actually a decision to make. Farkle seems less relieved, starting to get a little bit antsy as they applaud Zay and he gives a confident bow.

INT. LAW OFFICE - DAY

Riley visits her mother at work, distinctly out of place in the high intensity and strait-laced setting of the law office with her thrift store tee and flare jeans and propensity for knocking things over. It’s a relief when TOPANGA LAWRENCE emerges from her office and happily gestures her in, freeing her from the scrutinizing gaze of her colleagues at the front.

INT. TOPANGA’S OFFICE - DAY

Topanga and Riley catch up as they settle in, Riley primly sitting in the large leather chair opposite her mother’s desk. When prompted on how school is going, Riley offhandedly explains all of the stuff going on at school with things winding down to summer. When Topanga gets wind of the summer program, she comments what a wonderful opportunity that sounds like and questions whether Riley is going to audition.

Riley admits that she was thinking about it, but has sort of decided she’s not going to. Topanga totally turns the usual argument on its head, wondering why Riley would ever hesitate when she’s so gifted but more so curious as to why she’d neglect such a great opportunity when they’re certainly forking over a chunk of change for her to attend the school in the first place. A fair point, but not the most empathetic approach.

It’s encouragement in its most aggravating form. Rather than motivating Riley it almost completely turns her off to the whole thing. Although she states she’ll continue to consider it, her expression makes that statement difficult to buy. Tough day for Miss Matthews…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Class is assembled before first bell, discussing all the auditionees so far and how nothing has been much of a surprise. Wyatt is cleverly keeping his mouth shut giving he’s on probation, but somehow his classmates manage to pull some commentary out of him.

When he says something harsh towards Zay’s performance Charlie starts to refute but Lucas beats him to it, firing back with a dig at Wyatt that makes most of the assorted group chuckle but also wince. Pissed at being ridiculed by him once again, Wyatt serves up a harsh reality check of his own.

Wyatt: At least we know if there was a competition for which one of them to get rid of, there’d be a unanimous decision across the board.

The message is clear enough. Isadora jumps in and tells Wyatt to fuck off, but Lucas is less reactive. In fact, he’s totally blithe when he says something offhand in response, alluding to the fact that Wyatt might very well get his wish.

He gets up, retreating to the booth and leaving an uncomfortable and uncertain quiet in his place. The situation feels serious, but none of them have any clue why…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela is still grappling with her own indecision, alone in her classroom. Only this time, Shawn isn’t there with coffee and a warm gesture to rescue her.

She checks her phone, revealing a couple of messages sent to him that have gone unanswered. Frustrated, running out of time, and as uncertain as ever, Angela shuts off her phone and jumps to her feet. Unable to sit still any longer.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” as performed by Jools Holland & Kylie Minogue || Performed by Angela Moore

Launching into this anthem for indecision, Angela dances around her classroom as she lets out her aggravation. It’s refreshing to get another track with our favorite performance coach showing off why she’s been offered a touring position in the first place. The vocals are top notch, but the emotion behind them is what really sells the rendition.

As she continues to sing, she makes her way out into the halls…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In the following montage, Angela’s singing underscores both she and Lucas going through their day as they continue to balance their decisions. Whereas Angela is more about chewing up the scenery and expressing reluctance to leave, Lucas is observing the things about the school he enjoys (his fellow technicians, the booth, the occasional moments where the performers are entertaining) along with all the things he hates (the drama, the stupidity, the incessant singing). With every beat, he makes a little note in his list when no one is paying attention.

Angela finishes off the montage at center stage, dipping her head back and absorbing the spotlight. Exasperated, but evidently no more at home than when she’s performing. It does truly feel like an impossible decision.

Then, she closes up for the night, clicking off all the lights and shrouding the place in darkness.

EXT. OUTDOOR HIDEOUT - DAY

The montage concludes for Lucas somewhere just out of the city, more wilderness than we’ve seen yet. He’s seated on the hood of Dylan’s jeep which is parked in the clearing just beyond the trees, sort of a natural hideaway that the three of frequent somewhat often. Asher and Dylan focus on setting up something further into the space, leaving Lucas alone.

He’s got his list again, distracted by it rather than the task at hand. Asher jogs over with Dylan on his heels, the two of them questioning why he’s been out of it this week and why he’s waiting up. Dylan holds up a bottle rocket impatiently.

Dylan: Come on. We know you like to have first light.

Idiotic antics aside, Asher observes Lucas for a moment before wondering if he knows that if something major were going on, he could talk to them about it.

Asher: Whatever’s going on, you know you could talk to us about it, right? [ off Dylan’s nod of agreement ] I mean, no guarantee that we’d have good advice –

Dylan: [ with a snort ] Definitely not.

Asher: But we’d listen. We got your back. You know?

Lucas examines the two of them – his truest lieutenants – and just takes them in for a long moment. It’s difficult to imagine what his day-to-day would be like without them in it.

He assures them he’s aware, then tells them not to worry about it. He directs them to go finish setting up the rocket, to which Dylan cheers and sprints back over. After they’ve gone far enough away, Lucas takes a moment to add their names on the pros side of the list as a totally separate entity from the rest of the techies.

With that, he officially comes out to an even tally – no clear decision. All that remains in flux is Riley, now having been underlined and with a couple of question marks. This indecision’s killing me…

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack stops by Eric’s office, surprising him given they rarely have cordial friendly chats with one another. He attempts to play it casual at first, commenting on how lovely the auditions have been so far. Since only three have auditioned, guess their job is pretty simple, huh?

Eric: Yeah, for sure. And why are you here again?

Jack: What? I can’t come by to have a chat with my best counselor?

Eric: I’m your only counselor.

Jack: And?

Eric gives him a look, breaking his facade. Jack relents, easing further into the room to settle into the chair opposite his desk. He gets into his qualm with Wyatt once again, especially now that Shawn and Angela have given him opposing advice.

He still feels stuck. He wants to make the best choice as an administrator, but he also knows that teenagers are stupid. They’re ignorant. They make mistakes. He’s seen that shift firsthand all year long, in just about every single one of their students. But he doesn’t want this behavior to continue either…

Eric empathizes, giving Jack what he’s been wanting to hear this entire time which is simply that there isn’t a right or easy decision. He just has to go with his gut. Considering he’s an excellent educator, Eric has little doubt that he will make the best one.

Jack appreciates the sentiment, but still isn’t convinced. He asks Eric what he would do in his position, seeking counsel from him seeing as that’s presumably his job title and all that.

After a beat of contemplation, Eric states that he thinks he would ask Wyatt to leave. Not because he’s irredeemable, but because they have to think about what is best for the collective. Regardless of how they feel about individual students, what always matters most is how all of them can best proceed. Isn’t that true?

Jack takes this to heart, genuinely grateful for the help. Eric accepts his gratitude, offering him an encouraging smile.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Lucas is seated on the edge of the stage, one leg dangling off the side as he painstakingly wraps microphone cables. Riley makes her way in from the audience entrance, hoping to find Isadora and stumbling into him instead. Their staging mirrors their face off at the end of 1.03, now with Riley standing in the aisles and looking up at him on the stage.

They’re a bit awkward with one another as she asks whether he’s seen Isadora, given how recent his rejection of her was. He claims he doesn’t know, curiously wondering why she’s trying to find her. Riley expresses that she wanted to ask her about the audition, letting it slip that she has almost effectively decided she’s not going to do it.

Lucas is shocked, coming off more miffed than he intends to. He questions if she’s serious, not believing there’s a world in which she’s not auditioning. Riley stammers into an explanation, Lucas remaining unimpressed as she lists all the factors that have stacked against her in the past week. He claims none of that matters.

Lucas: This is just you stepping back into the shadows because suddenly overwhelming factors have come into play. You’re really just going to go back to how things were? As if you’ve learned nothing?

Riley: [ scoffing ] Are you really about to give me this lecture right now?

[ Lucas rolls his eyes, diverting his attention back to his cables. But Riley isn’t finished, storming closer to the stage. ]

Riley: So what, you just want me to rock the boat for the sake of rocking the boat? You want me to just do whatever my mother says I should?

Lucas: This isn’t about your mom. And this isn’t about rebellion either. This is about you, and the fact that you are too damn talented to be stepping out of the spotlight just because other people want it. Just because someone else wants what you have doesn’t mean you have to give it up.

Choice words, and not a bad point. Riley absorbs this, crossing her arms and looking at her feet. Lucas gazes at her for a long moment, twisting the microphone cable in his fingers.

Lucas, calmer: Earlier this year, someone told me that if something is important to you then you go out and do it. No matter what anyone else tells you to do or how to be. You stand up for yourself.

Lucas gets to his feet, placing the microphone in the box with the rest and snapping the lid shut. He hops off the lip of the stage, passing her to head back towards the technician’s booth. But he hesitates once he’s passed her.

Lucas: Are you really going to go back to hiding in the chorus line?

He doesn’t give her the chance to respond, marching towards the back of the auditorium. Riley looks over her shoulder and watches him go, obviously torn up all over again. For what it’s worth, what she wants suddenly seems less muddled than before…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Thus, march onward Riley does. She approaches the audition list, hesitating before officially adding a fourth name to the roster. All the sudden, there’s actual stakes to this game. As she writes her name, a voiceover of her introducing herself before her audition pre-laps…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley is alone center stage, spotlight shining on her. She’s squinting to attempt and see Eric, Angela, any of them – but it’s like they’re not there at all. Basically the entire class has showed up in the seats, wanting to see how a non-diva contender plans to throw down with such a bold move against the status quo.

Angela grants Riley permission to begin whenever she’s ready. Her fingers are shaking as she holds the microphone stand. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and grounding herself.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “She Used to Be Mine” as performed by Sara Bareilles || Performed by Riley Matthews

If there’s a pivotal example of how much a performer can blossom in the span of a year, then this performance would be it. Although she starts out timid, Riley delivers an impassioned and powerful rendition of the Broadway belter, obviously channeling all of her emotion and passion into it like never before. It’s stunning, breathtaking, the kind of game-changer that throws this entire competition into a toss-up.

It’s a testament to how far she’s come that nearly the entire class seems impressed. They’re supportive too, smiling and nodding as she decimates the number. Isadora is smug on her behalf, glancing to the other techies proudly. Even Farkle is playing nice, although he’s starting to get a little twitchy…

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

As she rounds out the number, focus draws to Lucas in the booth. He’s totally captivated, although not that surprised – he’s the one who told her she had it in her, after all.

Still, there’s a contemplative edge to his expression. Trying to figure her out, wondering if he could actually walk away from her…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Inspired by Riley’s bold move, suddenly the audition list is swimming in the names of other hopeful auditionees. Farkle is staring at it, trying extremely hard to keep his cool and not freak out over the increasing loss of control.

Maya joins him, poking her chin over his shoulder and eyeing it as well before stating that he can’t keep watching it like this. Yet the two of them stare transfixed for a second longer, Maya physically having to turn them both away from it to break the trance.

She gives a pep talk, stating that they both gave kickass performances and all there is left to do is let the deliberation speak for itself. When Farkle doesn’t seem convinced, she tells him she’s getting him away from it. They’re getting out of there – they’re playing hooky. Now there’s a way to get the attention of a goody-two-shoes academic.

Farkle: Um? I’ve never missed a day of class in my sixteen years.

Maya: Aw, so honored to be your first time! Let’s go.

She grabs his hand, yanking him down the hall.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Launching into their day of freedom, Maya and Farkle are meandering their way about town. They’re window shopping in the fashion district, sipping fancy coffee drinks and trying to find their zen – Farkle’s is pointedly marked decaf.

As they chat, they somehow gets on the subject of the local theater scene and the hangouts for up and coming performers. Farkle claims that his parents have membership at this elite club lounge where a lot of Broadway performers congregate and rehearse.

Maya: What’s it called?

Farkle: Emerald City, I think.

Maya: [ stopping cold ] WHAT?

Farkle: I know, feels a little on the nose, but –

Maya grabs him by the shirt collar, yanking him towards her and causing him to drop his drink. She’s got a frenzied gleam in her eyes.

Farkle: I was drinking that!

Maya: You have access to the Emerald City lounge? Where the future stars of Broadway mix and mingle? Where it’s rumored Carly Rae Jepsen snuck her way in and was able to get her stint as Cinderella? How have you never told me this?

Farkle: Ow, unclaw me, please! [ as she does so ] I don’t know, it never came up. I’ve always wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go alone. And to be fair, we weren’t exactly chummy for me to be sharing these things.

Maya: I know, I’m surprised you weren’t just bragging incessantly about it. And listen, had you mentioned this sooner? We would’ve been friends ages ago.

Farkle gives her a look, Maya nudging him playfully before insisting they have to go. If the only reason he’s never gone is because he didn’t want to go stag, well, that problem is now solved.

She starts to drag him down the street but he gets her to slow down, first thanking her for getting him out of that school and out of his own head. He truly needed it, and he’s grateful for it – and her. Maya grins, shrugging it off like it’s nothing.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One Short Day” as performed by Wicked Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Maya Hart & Farkle Minkus

As the jaunty and uplifting descent into glamourous kicks off, Maya and Farkle dance their way through the streets together as only two divas in paradise can. It’s endearing and comfortable, such a far cry from “What Is This Feeling?” in 1.03. It also doesn’t paint NYC in such a bad light either. In fact, it’s pretty damn beautiful.

On the beat where Glinda tells Elphaba they’re going to be late for “Wiz-a-mania,” Farkle gets caught up checking his phone. People are posting on their own accounts about how auditions are going, and the competition seems to be getting thicker and thicker. But Maya pulls him out of it, yanking him down the stairwell to the hidden depths of Emerald City.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

As Farkle and Maya enter the depths of the working performers, a montage ensues of the rest of the sophomore class performing their auditions.

INT. EMERALD CITY LOUNGE - DAY

An eclectic, shimmering testament to Broadway and those struggling to work in it, Emerald City is somewhere between a bar lounge and a dressing room. Maya and Farkle watch in awe as working actors and dancers buzz around them, before inevitably pulling them into the dance. Because it’s television, and musical television, and we can do what we want.

After the very necessary and super cute kick line, Maya and Farkle come back together to share their moment on the lyrics “and then just like now we can say…” Farkle states that they’re “two good friends,” before Maya takes his hand and holds their joined fingers up between them. “Two best friends.”

Then the professionals pull them back into the number, rounding out the number with a flourish. What a way to spend a school day!

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - NIGHT

Lucas is back in the booth, although not in his usual chair. A little further into the booth, a panel has popped out of the wall and leaned against the electrical cabinet. And it’s the basic crawl space of an alcove that is revealed behind it where Lucas has built his hideaway, the place he sleeps when he’s avoiding going home. It’s not much, but it’s the coziest space he’s ever known.

This is where he is now, cooped up and regarding his full list. Cons include the horrible competitive environment, all the performers, the constant singing, etc. The pros, however, are strong and difficult to ignore – Isadora at the top and underlined, the techies, Mister Shawn, Principal Hunter (someone has to keep his life interesting), Dylan and Asher…

And yet, the tally comes to an even draw. All save for Riley at the bottom, somehow having become the deciding factor.

The booth door opening scares Lucas out of his melancholy. He scrambles to get up and start frantically attempt to hide everything away, when Isadora appears around the other side of the electrical cabinet. She tells him to relax, he doesn’t have to pack away his whole set-up. Also, she brought dinner. Lucas tries to act indifferent about her discovering his shelter, but she truly isn’t all that impressed.

Isadora: You really thought I didn’t know about all that? It’s not hard to deduce. You hate being at home. You’re always in here, and you’re always here first thing in the morning, which I know isn’t plausible otherwise because you’re not a morning person.

Lucas: Well, when you put it that way. [ a beat, softer ] Forget you’re a genius, sometimes.

Isadora: [ with a shrug ] You’re my best friend. It’s not that hard to figure you out.

He sits back down in his alcove, Isadora settling down across from him. She asks how his “hypothetical” is going. He defensively wonders if she’s figured that all out too, which she admits she has not. But she claims that if it were truly important, she knows he would tell her.

In this case, far from the truth. There’s a reason he’s avoided telling her what’s going on outright – he can’t imagine how she would take the news that he may be leaving for good. He explains that he’s hit a dead end and doesn’t know how to move forward. He’s done the pros and cons like she said, but he’s torn on this last factor that might tip the scales in either direction.

Isadora: First things first, is it an important factor? If it’s extraneous, then you shouldn’t even bother with it.

Lucas: … yes. Yeah, it is. How do I determine where it falls?

Isadora: Well, if this were an actual scientific theory, your next step would be to draft an experiment. Decide what you want your hypothesis to be – which outcome you want it to be, unless we’re talking null hypothesis – and then find a way to test whether or not it’s true. That’s what any good scientist would do. Basic scientific method.

Lucas takes this in, already puzzling over how to accomplish such a thing. Isadora distracts him by tossing food at him, commanding him to eat. He relents, digging in with her.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Angela is typing out an email to the touring company, effectively making her decision. From the looks of it, it seems as though she’s going to decline the offer. She’s interrupted when there’s a knock at her door.

Shawn is on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers and ansty with earnest. Angela starts to question what he’s doing but he cuts her off, stepping in past her and launching into a poem from the book she gave him. The thematics are essentially well-matched to their current situation, and Angela can’t help but giggle in a what are you doing sort of fashion.

When Shawn finishes the recitation, he puts the flowers on the table and takes her arms. He’s breathless with nerves, but clearly wants her to hear him.

Shawn: I’ve changed a lot since the last time we had these conversations. I have, but I sure wasn’t acting like it. I’m sorry about the way I reacted, and I don’t care if you want to pursue this thing. In fact, I’m proud of you, and I want you to, if that’s what you want. And if it means another few years apart, then so be it. We came back to each other once.

Angela doesn’t even know what to say. She doesn’t know how to convey that she was going to decline the offer, or if she even still should with this turn of events. Thankfully, she’s saved by the bell, in this case her cell phone ringing. He steps back and allows her to pick it up.

As she engages with the call, we can tell that the news is shocking. Shawn tries to get something out of her as she listens, desperately trying to get a read on the situation. When she hangs up, she just stares at him for a couple of seconds.

Shawn: Ange, you’re killing me.

Angela manages to stammer out that she’s been offered a role in an off-Broadway show. Then, she’s finally able to grin. She repeats the statement, trying to make herself believe it. It��s not her big break, no, but it’s a start – and it’s here. She doesn’t have to go anywhere. The two of them, her time here, aren’t finished quite yet.

Shawn pulls her into a hug, lifting her and spinning her. When she lands back on her feet, the two of them share a big damn kiss –

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The sophomore class is assembled outside the door to the black box, anxiously waiting for Angela to put up the finalists for Kossal. The performers are trying their best not to throw jabs at each other, while the techies hang back against the wall and watch the near stampede in mild amusement.

Lucas: If any of you decide you’re going to the pit because of this, can I watch?

Riley tells them to ignore him, reminding the core group that whatever happens, they’re going to be happy for one another. They all agree, although it’s hard to tell if that sentiment is going to hold true…

Angela emerges, silence immediately settling over the crowd. You could hear a pin drop. She begs for a moment to escape once she puts it up before they all stampede, then moves to pin the list onto the bulletin board. She dives back into the classroom and slams the door just as the wolves descend, trying to see who got the three coveted spots.

Farkle elbows his way through, making it to the front first and getting a look for himself. From his expression, we can almost imagine the list before we see it.

Zay Babineaux. Maya Hart. Riley Matthews.

No Farkle Minkus. No summer program. No successful path to the top.

Sound grows muted around Farkle as the others get close enough to look for themselves. He can’t bring himself to react. He can’t even breathe.

He’s jostled out of it when Charlie bumps him in the back on accident, en route to giving Zay an enthusiastic hug. Maya and Riley eagerly congratulate one another, turning expectantly towards Farkle. Obviously not certain what to say to him, but hoping he’ll opt to take the gracious approach instead and make it easy on them to enjoy their laurels.

What do they want from him? A congratulations? Farkle doesn’t have it in him to give. He sort of sputters an incoherent statement and backs away, trying to wrap his head around it. How this could have possibly happened.

Zay: Seriously? Are you about to diva meltdown? What happened to being happy for each other?

Farkle, panicked: Yeah, well, that’s easy to say when –

Charlie: It’s okay, dude. There will be other opportunities –

Farkle is beyond that. He’s sliding back into manic, figuring he must have let himself slip up somewhere along the way. Or that this is all some elaborate ruse on their part – like they all knew if they got him off his game, he’d be easier to thwart.

Zay: You think I’d choose to be friends with you just to get some made up advantage over you? Believe me, man, I don’t hate myself that much.

Riley: Farkle, that’s not true –

Maya: Farkle. [ breaking through the haze, over everyone else ] Can’t you just be happy for me?

She holds his gaze, obviously hurt. Hoping he’ll say the right thing. But all he can manage is a non-answer.

Farkle: I – need a second. I need – just leave me alone.

Farkle storms away towards the auditorium, desperate to escape. The others watch him go, a myriad of emotions swirling around them but disappointment being the most unifying one.

Zay: Guess people don’t really change.

Maya looks more wounded than anyone else. She breaks away from the group, marching in the other direction.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is having his final conduct meeting with Wyatt, having made his decision on what his punishment will be. Eric is also present.

The final verdict is somewhere down the middle: Wyatt is being expelled from AAA effective at the start of the new term, but he will be allowed to finish out the remainder of this school year. Wyatt doesn’t have any complaints at this point, resigned. He claims that AAA is a hellscape and totally corrupt. The administration clearly has their favorites, and they have no idea how rotten the place is from the inside out.

Eric, calmly: You seem quite critical of this so-called rotten environment, in spite of how you had an active hand in keeping it alive…

Wyatt chooses not to comment, Jack dismissing him. As he heads out, he warns Jack that getting rid of him isn’t going to get rid of the problems at Adams. For one, he’s not the creator of the AAAC, but more pointedly the page is not the perpetrator of all the mean stuff people say about each other. They do all that themselves. Like he’s been saying, it’s just the messenger. And they’ve just shot it.

Wyatt: So if you really believe you’re making a difference, maybe you try tackling the toxic waste that serves as the very core of this school. But that would require actually being a competent administrator, so…

Eric rises and shoos him out, Jack taking the intended hit anyway. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples as Eric shuts the door behind Wyatt, releasing a sigh and claiming he thinks they made the right choice expelling that kind of bad energy.

When Jack doesn’t seem placated, Eric settles down across from him and comes to his defense. Wyatt is just postulating, and he made a good decision.

Jack nods along, but it’s evident there’s a lingering inkling of doubt…

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

As Wyatt exits the front office, he pulls out his phone. He crafts a message to AAA Confessions, warning them that Jack is on the warpath. The page is probably going to be officially shut down before the end of the school year. What are they planning to do?

The confessions page starts a message back… then doesn’t respond. Wyatt never gets an answer.

INT/EXT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM / LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE - DAY

Lucas is flipping through the McCullough pamphlet, but he can’t stomach looking at it for too long. Still feels like too daunting a decision to make.

He climbs out onto his fire escape, settling down and releasing a sigh. He stares out towards the city for a moment, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He starts a message to Riley, but nothing he wants to say comes out right. He finds himself calling her instead.

Lucas: Hey. I know I said… [ a beat ] things have been kind of… [ willing himself to be outright ] Do you still need a plus one?

Let the experiment begin…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

School has emptied out for the day, only a few stragglers left behind. Farkle is back in front of the bulletin board, staring at the three names and unable to believe that he’s not there.

Something about him isn’t quite right. He’s frantic, frenzied in a way that’s beyond just disappointment from a jilted diva. The longer he glares at the list, clenching his jaw and fidgeting in place, the worse the hysteria seems to become.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “It’s All Over” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (feat. Zay Babineaux, Maya Hart, Riley Matthews, Isadora De La Cruz, Charlie Gardner, and Lucas Friar)

[ Lyrics specific to characters – follow along here! ]

Farkle spits the words “Miss Moore was supposed to love me, I turn my back and find myself out on the line” towards the list, before whipping around –

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And suddenly center on a brightly lit stage. It’s almost glaringly bright, to the point where it would hurt to look at. If you’re not in his immediate line of sight, then you’re shrouded in shadow – which is how the figures standing on the stage look to him until they make themselves known and step into the light to argue with him.

Although the rest of the core group is included in the number, it’s more than clear that they’re not actually there. This isn’t actually Maya, Zay, even Lucas singing in opposition to him – they’re all in his imagination, but it doesn’t make it feel any less real. In regards to who is saying what, well, if you read any set of specific lyrics in this show, let it be this number.

As Farkle grows more and more frantic, the opposition towards him grows more and more pronounced. Although this whole thing started with a dashed dream, the way he’s so emotional over them all “dropping” him through the course of the song or turning him away seems like a greater trigger for him than the missed opportunity. So it’s not actually clear what is causing the meltdown, or if he really knows himself.

All he knows is that the entire core group is telling him it’s all over, and he’s fighting against it with whatever he’s got – back to the teeth-gnashing, scrappy, obsessive starlet who clawed his way to first on stage at the start of the school year.

No, Farkle Minkus is far from going quietly. He’s not going anywhere, and he swears that this isn’t how this is going to end.

Oh, boy…

END OF EPISODE.

#S1 #episodes #111

1 note · View note

philsdrill · 6 years ago

Text

Make You Feel at Home

Summary: After struggling through the last few days of the US tour, Dan and Phil take time to recover. Dan has to think fast on how to deal with a homesick and anxious Phil before they fly across the world to Australia.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: homesickness, one mention of being a little bit ill, slight fear of flying

A/N: Guess who birthed this little fic baby in one afternoon? Clearly I needed a break from writing chaptered. Also thank you so much to @knlalla for helping me get rid of my oversupply of commas and weird grammar.

AO3

The last few days of the US tour had been a struggle for Phil; Dan could see that. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and he’d been a little ill, which had drained an extra bit of energy out of him. He’d a rough night on the bus, followed by a hotel fire alarm the next night. After the last date in Vancouver, the two of them had collapsed into their bed for the night, finally getting a night of sleep with an opportunity for a lie in in the morning.

The next morning disappeared as the two of them slept well into the afternoon. It didn’t matter now if their sleep schedule was awful, with them about to fly to Australia in a few days. For now, all that mattered was that they got some rest and recovered from the long time they’d spent on the road. They had a couple of days to get their clothes washed, to let their injuries heal, to let their bodies recover before they got back to work again in a week’s time.

Dan eventually woke up properly about two pm, a slight headache telling him he needed to drink some water and maybe eat something. He slowly sat up in bed, then after a moment’s stretching, set off across the room to get himself some water. He’d wake Phil up in a minute, once he had himself together.

Dan knew that Phil was the more tired out of the two of them; Phil was used to getting good nights of sleep, whereas Dan could function on less sleep if he needed to. Anyway, it was time they got up, so that they could experience at least some of the day before it was night again. He gently woke Phil up, knowing that it wouldn’t necessarily be an easy feat.

It was ten minutes before Dan had Phil sitting up, placing his glasses on his nose and a glass of water in his hand as he leant back against the headboard. He seemed the better for having slept so long, but Dan could see in his eyes that he still wasn’t feeling one-hundred percent. Dan found him some paracetamol, then sat down next to him with the room service menu in his hands.

“Let’s get some food,” Dan said, his voice still warm and full of sleep.

Dan shuffled the menu halfway onto Phil’s lap so they could both read it, pointing out the section with the pancakes.

“I think I’m going to get banana and berry granola,” Dan said after a few minutes’ consideration, “You?”

“Just toast and orange juice,” Phil yawned, “And coffee. Not sure I’m feeling up to pancakes this morning.”

“Okay,” Dan nodded, thinking how unlike Phil it was to not have pancakes given the option, but he knew Phil wouldn’t appreciate him pointing it out.

Dan made his way to the room’s phone, a long standing agreement between he and Phil that he did all the room service orders. It didn’t take him long to reel off the order, then he returned to Phil, settling back onto the bed next to him, where he would stay until there was a knock at the door.

“What d’you want to do today?” Dan asked softly. “Just stay here and relax?”

“Yeah,” Phil nodded, “I think taking a shower is the most effort I’m willing to go to today.”

“Fair enough,” Dan smiled, “We can lay in bed and catch up on some shows; sounds good.”

When the room service arrived, the two tucked into their food, Dan throughorly enjoying his granola while Phil munched slowly on his toast. Dan was a little worried about him at first, but when he finished his toast, his juice and his coffee, Dan knew he was doing okay. He remained quiet for a bit, but it was noticeable when he started to benefit from the energy, a hint of a smile finding his face, then enough motivation to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth.

The day progressed quite strangely, with little routine. After they had both brushed their teeth, they sat on their phones for a while, catching up on social media, Dan releasing a relatable tweet to the world and Phil quietly liking a few things on twitter. Dan dug out his laptop to go on tumblr, and at that point, Phil headed off into the bathroom for his shower.

Whilst the two would sometimes shower together, today wasn’t a day for that. Maybe Phil wouldn’t have minded a little back rub and a gentle head massage, but Dan knew Phil also appreciated his alone time. A shower was a good place for clearing your mind and developing new thoughts, so hopefully it would do Phil some good.

What Dan didn’t expect was Phil to return to the room in a towel, tears streaming down his face and merging with droplets of water. Dan quickly abandoned his tumblr dashboard and opened his arms to Phil, mumbles of ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘are you okay?’

“I miss home,” Phil sobbed. “I just want my bed and my own shower gel and things that smell familiar and…”

“Oh Phil,” Dan said softly, bringing both arms around his damp partner. “I know it’s a while yet, but we’ll be back before you know it.”

“I just feel like we’re going further away from home and I’m not sure I want to anymore,” Phil cried, “But I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Dan, knowing it was up to him to convince Phil back into a positive mindset, started to remind Phil of all the things he’d been looking forward to about these places. “You’re going to get to see a koala again. You’re going to get to see the beauty of New Zealand in person. You’re going to have the opportunity to make a silly name pun in The Philippines. You’re going to get to see India for the first time, go back to Singapore and Hong Kong. I know it’s a lot, but it’s going to be exciting, and at the end of it, we’ll be going home. I propose we have Pyjama Week 2.0 when we get back, but for now we’re having a mini pyjama day today in a hotel room, which is the most we can manage at the moment. It’s going to be okay, Phil. I promise you’ve got your energy back and we’re back doing the show and meeting people.”

“Yeah, I know it’s going to be good. I just miss home and wish we could go back for a bit first. I want to see my parents and my plants and just sleep in our own bed for a night or two,” Phil said, still sounding sad, but not crying so much anymore.

“How about you message your parents and see if they’re free to Skype today or tomorrow?” Dan suggested. “Would that help? It’s been a while since you last did that.”

“I think it would yeah,” Phil nodded, “I miss them.”

“Well let’s message them now while we remember,” Dan said, reaching away from Phil for a moment to grab his phone.

“What shall I say?” Dan said, opening up a message to Phil’s mum, “How about… ‘Hi Kath, Phil was wondering if you and Nigel are free to Skype at some point today or tomorrow? He’s feeling a little homesick and we think it would be good for him to catch up with you while we’ve got a couple days off’ ?”

“You don’t need to say about me being homesick,” Phil groaned, “But the rest of it’s okay.”

“Phil, I think it’s best to be honest and straight up about that. I don’t want them worrying about you if you seem a bit sad and tired,” Dan said, his finger hovering over the send button. “It’s from me.”

Phil realised he should just trust Dan’s opinion and okayed the message, letting Dan send it off to his mum. Dan never expected a reply so quickly, but he had one in moments.

We are about to get ready for bed, so either tomorrow or right now? What would Phil like?

With this reply, they were reminded of how late it was at home, but delaying it until tomorrow didn’t seem to sit well with Phil. There was a sense of fragility in his eyes, in the way he held himself, and Dan knew that Phil’s mum would probably be able to help with that.

I think tonight would be best - sorry for keeping you out of bed.

Dan quickly received another message, saying that they would put the computer on and they’d be ready in five minutes. In this time, Dan got Phil’s laptop set up while Phil got dressed in his pyjamas. Thankfully he had no reservations about his mum seeing him in his pjs, fresh out the shower, with slightly red-rimmed eyes from crying.

Dan wanted to give Phil the space he needed, so he asked Phil if he wanted to be beside him or at the other side of the room. They quickly settled that Phil would sit on the bed, and Dan would be at the table at the other side of the room.

When Dan heard the familiar Skype ringtone, he left Phil to it and settled down to work on editing a gaming video, keeping himself from intruding on Phil’s conversation. He put on his headphones, but had one ear slightly out from under the padding, so that he could hear if he was needed or being spoken about.

Dan got a good half hour of work in, very productive apart from the odd glance over at Phil to see if he was doing okay. It was one of these glances that brought to his attention that Phil was in tears. He whipped off his headphones and padded across the room to where Phil was sat on the bed, hiding his face in his hands.

As he approached and heard the audio from the Skype call, he heard Kath’s worried voice, “Phil, where’s Dan? Is he with you? Do I need to message him?”

“I’m here,” Dan spoke up, climbing onto the bed and getting into the shot with Phil, “Was across the room with headphones, what’s happening?”

“Phil was saying he’s anxious for the flight,” Kath said, as Dan took Phil into his arms, “The long one to Australia.”

“You are?” Dan asked softly, “You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t really think about how long it was when we booked it… and just now it’s getting close, it’s finally sinking in… I don’t know if I can do it,” Phil sobbed.

“I will play ‘I spy…’ with you for eighteen hours if it helps,” Dan told Phil, hugging him, but still conscious he was in front of Phil’s mum, “And it was twenty-three when we flew from London, so you’ve done longer than this before and you survived that.”

“But my legs were so squashed…” Phil said, trailing off.

“You know we paid for the fanciest seats on the plane,” Dan reminded Phil, rubbing his hand down Phil’s back, “The ones with the most leg room and all the perks. We’re not going economy; it’s not going to be cramped.”

“Phil,” Katherine spoke up from the laptop. “You’ve done a harder flight before; you’re going to be okay. You’ve got Dan by your side if you get anxious and an eighteen hour game of ‘I spy…’ sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Dan turned to Phil’s mum, still keeping his arms around Phil, “I think he’ll be fine with it when we get to it; he’s just had a hard couple of days and I think he’s still quite tired, despite a long lie in. I think this anxiety will pass.”

“Get some rest in the next couple of days, Phil,” Kath said softly, “And you too, Dan, but Phil, you look like you need it.”

“I will, mum,” Phil said, nodding, brushing the tears away from his eyes, obviously feeling a little better in that he was looking slightly embarrassed.”

“I think we should let you go for now,” Kath said, “But we can speak again if you want while you’re still in Canada.”

“Thank you, mum,” Phil said softly, looking into the screen.

“Go have a cup of tea and maybe get some fresh air and see how you feel,” she told him. “We’ll be going to bed, but I’m sure Dan’ll look out for you.”

“I will,” Dan said firmly, giving Phil’s parents a little smile, “And thanks for taking the time to talk to Phil; I think he needed that.”

Phil nodded his agreement to that, and then the Lester’s started saying goodbye to each other, Phil curled into Dan’s chest, but paying all his attention to his mum and dad, as it was their last few moments on screen.

When the call was over, Dan took Kath’s advice by making Phil a cup of tea and then dragging him out onto the balcony to drink it. They stayed out there for a while, even after Phil’s cup was empty, talking over Phil’s anxieties, the change of scenery helping to bring a change in his brain. Phil would be okay for the plane, Dan was confident in that, but he’d stick by Phil’s side and give him all the support he needed until then.

As it got late and the sun started to go down, the two of them headed back into their room, pyjamas no longer warm enough for sitting on the balcony. They ordered some room service for dinner, and over their food, discussed their plans for tomorrow. Dan thought they should explore the city a little more, so they felt a bit more situated and less like they had no idea where they were. He wanted to make tomorrow’s evening about self care and looking after themselves, something that Phil needed. They’d do some shopping to buy some supplies for that: maybe a bathbomb, some face masks, some snacks. Dan had a vision, and he knew Phil would appreciate it in the end.

The two men went to bed quite early, at least quite early for them. It had been a short day and despite how much they’d slept in, some more sleep would do them good. Dan made sure to hold Phil close for the night, hoping that maybe he’d feel at home enough in Dan’s arms.

The following day found them exploring the city of Vancouver a little more, treating themselves to some ice cream as they walked through a park. Stanley Park was giant, and by no means did they see all of it, but from what they did, it was beautiful, walking amongst the trees, enjoying ice cream, enjoying nature. It was really what they needed to get out of their hotel room and into the world, where they had time to think, but not think too hard. They couldn’t exactly hold hands in public, but the peace of walking together was enough for them.

After spending a while in the park, they slowly made their way home, via a few shops to pick up some things for their evening of relaxation. They took a trip into Lush, and after a lot of sniffing, picked out the perfect bath bomb for the two of them to share. They headed into Shoppers Drug Mart for a few other things: some toiletries they’d been running out of, a fancy moisturiser and face masks, of course.

Their last stop before returning to their hotel was a supermarket, where they picked up some snacks, some comfort food: cookies and popcorn and Dorito’s; everything they needed to add some flavour to their evening.

By the time they got back to their hotel, both Dan and Phil were complaining to each other about their legs hurting, having walked further than they’d expected to. They were more than ready to sink into their bed, to order some take-away and spend the evening pampering themselves.

After eating a moderate amount of food with all the dips, with a show playing in the background, they settled into each other’s arms for a while. The bath would come next, but they both wanted time to digest their dinner before that.

When they finished the third episode of the show, Dan got up, cracking his back and padding across the room to their bag of purchases from earlier, “So Phil… you ready for that bath?”

With a grin and a ‘yeee’ from Phil, the two of them headed to the bathroom to drop the bath bomb into the bath and watch it dissolve into all its beautiful colours. The bright colours weren’t quite Dan’s aesthetic, but what did aesthetic matter when one was enjoying a private moment with their partner. He liked the scent, and it was Phil’s favourite, so that was what mattered.

When the bath was full and the bomb dissolved, the two stripped of their clothes and settled into the bath, Dan being Phil’s pillow today, letting Phil lean back against his chest and be enveloped by his body. Now that they had the privacy and all the time in the world, Dan took it upon himself to give Phil a back rub, to rub softly, then more firmly, easing most of the tension from his lover’s back.

With some of Phil’s favourite shampoo, which they’d picked up in the drugstore, Dan rubbed his fingers into Phil’s scalp, taking longer than he needed to lather the shampoo because he knew it would feel good. This had Phil’s eyes fluttering shut as he melted back into Dan, enjoying the fingers softly rubbing his head.

The two men stayed in the bath until the water went cold, until the warm towels on the towel rail got too tempting to stay in the cooling water any longer. They quickly rinsed off the remnants of the bath bomb with the shower before wrapping themselves up in the warm towels.

Before leaving the bathroom, they got their facemasks out of the packet and applied them to each other. Like the cat whiskers from TATINOF, it made sense, as they could see the other’s face better than their own.

In towels and facemasks, they returned to their room. It didn’t matter if they looked stupid, because they looked stupid together. They settled down on their bed to enjoy some snacks, some comfort food, pulling up another show on Dan’s laptop. They laid together for a while, indulging in the food and enjoying the show, until eventually, tiredness got the better of them and they had to finish getting ready for bed.

They settled down for the night in each other’s arms, relaxed and full of warmth. Enjoying time in each other’s presence was almost like being at home and the two of them were a lot better mentally from it.

The remainder of their time in Vancouver was spent trying to relax, trying to recover, trying to feel at home, before they set off to the other side of the world. In the end, the flight to Australia was no problem for Phil, and once they got settled back into the routine of the tour, Phil’s homesickness got left behind somewhere. He’d be happy for when they eventually did get back to London, but for the time being, Dan was his home.

hope you enjoyed!

read more of my fics / follow my updates blog to hear when I post?

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan fluff #phan comfort #comfort #fluff #dan and phil #dnp #interactive introverts tour fic #tour fic #ii tour fic #ii tour #fanfic #bathbombs #facemasks #self care #homesick phil

109 notes · View notes

ladylynse · 7 years ago

Text

Whirlwind - Part III

Secret Quartet Fanfic

Summary: Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny should’ve expected something like this when he got that phone call. (Part I, Part II) (What’s the timeline again?)

5:32 PM

Jake blinked the spots from his eyes. Used though he was to bright flashes of fire, this had ended up a bit stronger than he’d anticipated. Even a few seconds after he’d cut off the flame, he could still see the shadowy impression of the butterfly’s dark magic burning up—which was really weird, because he’d never had that problem in dragon form before. He had a fleeting glimpse of the butterfly getting away—white now, but probably no less dangerous with his luck—but was distracted by a startled exclamation from a nearby building before he could follow it.

“Holy cheese, dragons are real?”

Jake snaked his head around to look, finally spotting a solitary figure in black staring at him from one rooftop over. At least Danny had gotten away without any trouble, though since he’d stayed invisible, Jake wasn’t too surprised.

Honestly, he was more surprised this new guy was dressed like a stereotypical ninja. The kind of guy who had obviously never met a real ninja before. Blending in was actually a thing, and this guy didn’t seem to have heard of that.

Not that Jake could talk.

“How the cheese did I not know this?” the ninja continued. Jake wondered if the ninja realized he was both heard and understood. Probably not. “The Nomicon definitely never said anything.”

The name meant nothing to Jake, but it might twig something with Gramps or Fu. Jake figured he’d ask later. As the ninja threw his scarf out—and as it extended longer than it should if magic weren’t involved—Jake flew up and hopefully out of this guy’s reach. Sara and Kara hadn’t contacted him with any further news, but that didn’t mean this guy wasn’t involved somehow. If he could just—

“Hey, are mermaids real?”

“What?” Jake had flinched when the Fenton Phone in his ear crackled to life, but his response was automatic. And, despite that, legitimate. What the heck was that supposed to mean?

“Never mind.”

If Danny had intended to say anything else, it was lost in static. Which left Jake with the ninja, who had closed the distance between them in the time that Jake had hovered to talk to Danny.

“Hey! You! Dragon!”

Smooth.

But probably not evil; plenty of the villains Jake had run into tended to be more long-winded or at least eloquent in their words, and he’d capitalized on that waste of time more often than not. More importantly, Jake saw no sign of the Brooch of Metamorphosis or any of the others that had been in the book, but in all fairness, the suit covered a lot; it wouldn’t take much to hide the Earrings of Creation or the Necklace of Illusion, for instance. He hoped, if there really more than seven of these things like G had said could be the case, this guy didn’t have one of them; the last thing he needed was a complete surprise.

The ninja was waving frantically at him, clearly trying to get his attention. Jake beat his wings for a moment, trying to figure out if he should just leave him in the dust, and then decided the guy might actually have some useful information. It was worth a shot, anyway. And if not, well, Gramps would want to know who this guy was if someone else was going to know about the magical world—or needed their memory wiped, at least once they found out where he got his hands on what seemed to be a magical suit.

Jake landed on the other side of the roof, just to be on the safe side, even though he knew it wouldn’t give him much of an edge.

The ninja’s eyes widened in surprise. “You do understand me! That’s totally bruce.” He bounded toward Jake, staring at him as if he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “If sorcerers and dragons are real, is everything else? Y’know, ghosts and unicorns and vampires and everything?”

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely. “Yo, you got a name?”

The ninja let out a whine of excitement. “Oh my cheese this is so cool.” He came closer still and held out a hand. “I’m the Ninja.”

It wasn’t a very inventive name, but considering Jake went by the American Dragon, he couldn’t exactly talk. Against his better judgement, Jake held out a claw for the Ninja to grasp. He wasn’t too keen on making friends right now; he had a feeling he might be fighting this guy later, since he obviously wasn’t properly part of the magical world or he’d know about the American Dragon already. But for all Jake knew, the guy wasn’t at all what he appeared. Maybe he was working with the other guy, even if he didn’t have the same magical accessories. For all Jake knew, the Ninja was the guy who had the box of these things to hand out.

Then again, assuming the Ninja was an enemy was the quickest way to make him one. Jake could give him the benefit of the doubt for now. “I’m the Am Drag. American Dragon. You wanna tell me why you’re on my turf?”

“We have an American Dragon?’ Before Jake could blink, the Ninja had produced a cell phone from his pockets. “Wait till I—”

Jake reached out and flicked it away, not caring that it smashed as it hit the roof. He was not taking that risk right now. “Yeah, that’s not happening. This whole thing needs to be a secret. So spill, Ninja. Why are you here?”

The Ninja let out a pained cry at his phone’s demise, but when he turned his attention to Jake, his demeanour had sobered. “I was trying to catch up with my friend, but you can help, too. I think an old enemy of mine’s in town, and she’ll wonk your cheese if given half the chance. She’s switched up her tactics a bit, but the idea’s the same. I don’t know if she’s working with someone or not, but she thrives on chaos, and believe me, you do not want to see her at full power.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Who do you think we’re up against?”

The Ninja shrugged. “I just call her the Sorceress.”

A sorceress. Great. He really needed another magic user to deal with. Like Pandarus and Nigel weren’t bad enough. (Okay, so Nigel wasn’t that bad, but he was still annoying.) But maybe Jake would finally get lucky and this Ninja would be dead wrong. “And your friend?”

“Calls himself Chat Noir,” replied the Ninja. He reached into his pocket and drew out some kind of silver cylinder. Holding it up, he said, “Carries this around. Uses it as either a baton or a pole. I’m pretty sure it’s not a good sign that I found it over there.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder before slipping the rod back into his pocket. “Something happened, but I didn’t see what.”

Jake knew pretending to ignore the question wouldn’t get him anywhere, but changing the subject slightly might. “You know him for long, Ninja?”

The Ninja crossed his arms. “Do you think he’s the bad guy here? He’s not the bad guy. He helped me fight someone who was stanked. Not that I needed help. I was the one helping him. I totally had it under control. He just happened to get there first.”

Well, it was possible. Jake knew he couldn’t discount that. But he also couldn’t forget about the very real possibility that something might have been set up by this Chat Noir guy (Black Cat, very imaginative; at this rate, Danny was the best of them because he at least went by Phantom and not Ghost). It might just be another attempt to draw them out. This Ninja had shown up, after all, and Jake had no idea where he’d come from. What if he only thought Chat Noir was a friend because he’d fallen for the guy’s trap? The more he talked, the more it sounded like they’d only met recently. Then again, that could be deliberate….

Jake wasn’t big on plans, but he had to think this one through. If this kid hadn’t come by the Ring of the Black Cat honestly, he very well could have the Brooch of the Butterfly, too, or be working with the person who did. And Fu might not be wrong when it came to thinking the guy was some sort of bounty hunter or collector of magical objects. If the Ninja wasn’t wrong about someone teaming up with this Sorceress, then she might have the brooch. And if he was, and she wasn’t even in the picture, then Chat Noir—or his partner, if he had one—could just be causing chaos to try to distract them. Lure them out, maybe, and assess their abilities or use the distraction to hit up the shop. The Ninja turning up was probably a wrench in his plan if he’d wanted to target the shop, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t adapt and figure out how to take whatever magical stuff the Ninja had, too.

Pretending to be one of the good guys before stabbing your friends in the back wasn’t exactly a new trick.

Chat Noir knew what Jake looked like in human form, so he couldn’t pretend to get close to him, but he’d never seen Danny. Neither, as far as Jake knew, had the Ninja. Which would be good, because Jake was pretty sure the Ninja wasn’t going to believe Jake when he presented his case about Chat Noir. And Jake got that, he really did—it did all seem to be circumstantial evidence—but seriously. No person in their right mind goes into an electronics shop to ask for directions to a cheese shop. He had to have been scouting them out. And hadn’t it worked? He knew what both Jake and Gramps looked like in human form now.

Sure, they knew what he looked like, too, but that wasn’t going to do them a whole lot of good when someone apparently had the ability to change what things looked like.

Beware of the butterflies. What else could that mean? It couldn’t be a coincidence that there was a Butterfly Miraculous and that someone with the Cat Miraculous had just walked right into their shop the day after they’d received that warning. Especially since it was just the beginning. You’ll be busier than us once the attacks begin. And he never had dealt with these Miraculous things, which is pretty much exactly what Sara had said.

First things first. If there was a new sorceress in town wreaking havoc, he might be able to find some sign of it at the scene of the crime. “Where did this go down?” Jake asked. “Could you show me?”

“Yeah, but…. Does this mean you don’t know where he is?”

Somewhere near water, if Danny’s question was any indication, but truthfully, no, Jake had no idea, so he said as much. The Ninja seemed to take him at his word and agreed to lead Jake back to the place where things had gone down. Danny was still on radio silence, and Jake didn’t want to fill him in while the Ninja was in earshot. They’d have time to catch up later, hopefully when he had learned a little bit more about what was going on.

5:33 PM

Danny could fly faster than someone could freefall. When Jake had hesitated on the mermaid question, Danny knew he didn’t have time to wait for an answer. He’d just dived. This guy wasn’t a ghost, so it wasn’t really fair to assume he could do something like swim—or, well, depending on how much magic he had at his disposal, survive a fall like this.

Danny grabbed the guy from an angle so he could redirect their momentum rather than stopping it abruptly—he wasn’t sure how well that would work—and ended up skimming the surface of the water as he turned back toward shore. Cat boy was yelling, but Danny didn’t care. He might be able to feel Danny’s arms, but he hadn’t tried to attack them or the body they were attached to, and that was a plus. It meant Danny didn’t have to go intangible yet.

It wasn’t, however, enough to earn Danny’s trust. Before they got too close to the shore or any boats, Danny let go and let himself sink underwater, just to watch.

Cat boy had no trouble treading water, looking around frantically for some sign of Danny. When he didn’t find anything, he started to swim toward land—long, strong strokes of the front crawl. The cold water didn’t seem to bother him.

Danny rose out of the water in the other teen’s wake, flicked intangible to free himself of the water, and reached back up to his Fenton Phone. Thankfully, they were practically indestructible, and that included being waterproof. “I’m going to put him on ice,” he said quietly, not sure if Jake was still listening to him. He didn’t want to risk trying to explain himself. Cat boy wasn’t too far ahead of him; if he made too much noise, he’d be noticed, invisible or not, and he doubted being wet was going to slow this guy down too much.

Danny hoped the swim would be exhausting, but cat boy had good endurance and kept up a steady pace. That wasn’t exactly comforting, especially if they were going to keep fighting later. Danny was used to opponents that took a while to wear down, but he knew how much energy he used in a fight; he’d just assumed anyone who was fully human would feel that even more.

Apparently, magic and good physical fitness on top of that stood for a lot. Cat boy varied his strokes, but his pace didn’t lag much. When he was close to shore and had stopped to tread water to look around again, Danny took the opportunity for what it was and used his ice powers. He saw a flash of fear on the teen’s face as he realized what was happening, but then it was over.

He wasn’t frozen solid, but he was encased in a thick box of ice. Which didn’t give him much oxygen, but it would—presumably—allow Danny to see what the heck Jake meant when he talked about this guy having the power of destruction. Because who wouldn’t use something like that to get out of a trap like this? The walls were too thick to break without something designed for the job, and this guy didn’t even have his pole thing anymore.

Danny added handles to the prison before turning it and its captive invisible and pulling them from the water. He heard muffled screams from inside before it quieted down, which probably meant the guy was biding his time or activating his power. Danny suspected the former; he was flying fast enough that he sorta doubted cat boy was keen on freefalling again, at least as long as he could avoid just being dropped in general.

Danny really didn’t know his way around New York, so he just aimed for a building with a flat roof that looked more commercial than residential. He dropped their invisibility and abruptly realized the entire ice block was covered in a spider web of cracks—not easy to do, considering how strong his ice was.

He started to set it down.

It exploded.

Cat boy was at the far side of the roof before Danny realized what was happening. He flickered intangible again, letting the ice shards fall through his flesh, and hissed in pain. Even with his healing ability, this was going to slow him down a bit. “Guess I got what I deserved,” he muttered, holding one hand just above his right eye to stem the bleeding from where a shard had caught him on the forehead. “Not like I didn’t know he was going to get out of there.”

Trouble was, he thought he’d learn something, like how cat boy could actually do that.

He hadn’t.

The only warning he’d gotten was the spreading cracks, and even knowing it would be coming, he hadn’t been prepared for it.

And now cat boy had definitely seen him.

Danny didn’t bother going invisible now. Cat boy hadn’t found an escape and had instead turned back to face Danny. Something beeped, and the other boy’s face hardened. He moved away from the edge, but not far. Danny stayed where he was, not wanting to make the first move.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to. “You came for my Miraculous,” cat boy said. Like Jake had said, he had an accent. Him not being from New York would be a plus if Danny actually knew his way around the city, but as it was, Danny would have to see how well Jake could describe landmarks seen from the air once they got through this confrontation.

He still had intangibility on his side, and hopefully this building wasn’t too important….

“Your Miraculous,” Danny repeated, trying to remember what Jake had told him. “Your ring, right? The source of your power?”

Cat boy’s hands clenched into fists, but he still didn’t move.

“You seem to be pretty good at using that power, Destructo.”

Cat boy snorted. “Stick with Chat Noir.”

“What?”

“It’s Chat Noir, Freeze Ray.”

“Phantom.”

“Phantom, then. You haven’t won. Just because my partner isn’t here, doesn’t mean you’re going to take me down that easily.”

Oh, great. He did have a partner. Just what they needed. Jake was right about someone else having the magic brooch. Danny groaned. He hated dealing with magical jewellery. First Dora’s necklace, and then that ring—

Chat Noir started running, and Danny shot an ectoblast at him before remembering the other boy was essentially human. It didn’t matter; cat boy was quick on his feet and managed to dodge that and Danny’s subsequent blasts with ice, varying his speed and direction so he was harder to hit. Trying to predict his movements only led to mounds of ice scattered across the roofs.

Danny iced over what he thought might be a door to the rest of the building, for as long as that would last, but he stopped trying to freeze Chat Noir in place when he realized every attempt was just giving him more places to hide. Just because he didn’t want to get too close, didn’t mean he was willing to let Chat Noir out of his sight when he could take down the entire building as easily as he had burst out of the ice block.

Danny turned, trying to spot the other boy, and groaned when he couldn’t see anything, even when he flew a bit higher. “I’m so going to regret this,” he muttered, but he created a clone and both of them winked out of sight before flying overhead to try to spot Chat Noir.

Instead of finding Chat Noir, he found a scared boy huddling behind a block of ice, feeding something that smelled like dirty socks to a tiny, flying cat.

“What?” Danny asked, forgetting for a moment that he was invisible. The boy jumped, spraying Danny with a few stray water droplets as his head jerked towards Danny, and the cat flew through him. Danny blinked, dropping his clone and lapsing back into visibility. His ghost sense had never gone off. “How—?”

The boy—well, Chat Noir, just without his cat suit (but with the black cat?)—scuttled away from Danny, finding his feet and running to hide somewhere else. Danny flew up to follow. There was another flash, and the boy had his costume back.

And his pole.

Which he was currently using to get away.

“Hey, wait!” Danny yelled, flying after him. He hadn’t expected the boy to lose the costume, even temporarily, even if it did mean he got his pole back. If he was as destructive as his reputation, he should’ve had no problem creating a hole and escaping through the building if he didn’t just flat out collapse the entire thing. Had he changed back unintentionally?

If he had, and if was because he’d been exhausted, he’d gotten his second wind a heck of a lot faster than Danny ever had.

Something didn’t add up. Danny flew faster, catching up to Chat Noir as he was using his pole—baton?—as a helicopter blade. Danny didn’t really want to knock him off course, but he kept pace. “Hey, look— Stop ignoring me, okay? We should talk.”

Chat Noir kept turning, steering away from Danny as best he could without running into a building.

“I’m sorry, okay? I think I…. Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

Chat Noir muttered something, maybe in French since it didn’t sound like English, and then suddenly stopped spinning his baton and dropped. Danny yelped in spite of himself and tried to catch up, but the other boy had hit the ground before Danny had reacted. Chat Noir dove into the nearest building and, despite going intangible to get inside faster, Danny lost track of him.

Great.

Danny flew back outside and turned his Fenton Phone back on. “Jake?” He didn’t get an answer, but he continued on in the hope that Jake could hear him. “Jake, I think we’ve got something wrong. Where should I meet you?” Danny waited, but there was still nothing. “Jake? Can you hear me? Just say something so I know you’re getting this. Even if it’s not an answer. Okay?”

The silence stretched.

Crud.

Danny shot up above the skyline again to get his bearings. He might not be able to figure out where he’d left Jake, but he could swing by the shop and see if Gramps or Fu had heard anything. It was his best shot.

6:14 PM

Adrien shivered. The cold hadn’t bothered him too much while he’d been transformed, and his hair had dried during his escape, but it felt like it would be a long time before he could shake this chill. Plagg hid in his pocket again, and Adrien peeked out from the potted plant behind which he’d ducked. The coast looked clear, but that didn’t mean much when he was dealing with some kind of ice ghost.

He headed deeper into the mall, keeping his head down. He still had some American money in his pocket from when he’d gone out earlier to buy cheese for Plagg, and he used most of what he’d brought to buy himself a hooded sweater. He zipped it up to his chin and pulled up his hood. Father wouldn’t approve, but Adrien couldn’t afford to be picky. He needed to blend in, as much as anyone could, and he needed to get warm. At least his clothes weren’t soaked.

Adrien wasn’t sure where he was, but despite the best efforts of Nathalie and the Gorilla, he was familiar with the metro, and he could figure out the one here, too. He knew where he needed to go, and it didn’t take much to find the metro station, study a map, buy a ticket, and get on the right train. He had a few transfers ahead of him, but that would give him time to figure out his story.

Well.

Enough of a story.

Something Nathalie would accept, if not believe.

He was still trying to figure out why Hawk Moth was in New York. He’d seen the akuma; he knew it was Hawk Moth. But he wasn’t likely to catch Ladybug when she was transformed to confirm that Paris was quiet, and he didn’t really want to tell her he’d lost one akuma and was now tackling someone else who had been infected by a different one. He could check the Ladyblog when he got back to the hotel—Alya was usually quick about updating it once there was an obvious attack; more than once, her postings had been the first evidence he’d seen of someone being akumatized—but he didn’t think he’d find anything.

He didn’t think there was more than one Hawk Moth.

He couldn’t risk discussing anything with Plagg now (pretending to be on his phone wouldn’t work if this Phantom had managed to follow him after all and was just biding his time), but he would’ve done almost anything to at least be able to hash out ideas with Ladybug. If she didn’t know what to do, she’d be able to figure something out. Without her, he had to figure out how to capture the akuma—or rather, all of them—and keep everything contained until she could work her purifying magic.

He’d have to talk to Plagg again, but Adrien remembered him saying only Ladybug had that power, that he didn’t. So without her….

“I don’t know how I can beat him alone,” Adrien whispered. He missed having a partner to watch his back. The Ninja he’d met, whoever he really was, was a poor replacement for Ladybug. Especially when Adrien didn’t even know if he’d see the guy again. But Adrien knew he’d meant well, and he had helped, more or less, and that counted for something.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the Ninja had known to break the pen to release the akuma, but at least that had limited the Critic’s damage.

Plagg had told him that there was other magic in this town, and maybe the Ninja was part of that, too. And while Plagg had warned him to stay away from that magic, Adrien needed help. The Critic’s akuma would have multiplied by now, and Hawk Moth had already sent out another one in Phantom. Adrien had no idea why Phantom had been akumatized from his name, but chances were the akuma was hiding in something in Phantom’s pocket, which would make it even harder to figure out. Then again, if he couldn’t capture and cleanse the akuma, he would be better off leaving Phantom alone for as long as he could; trying to deal with one of him was more than enough. But maybe the Ninja had something that could help….

Someone vacated one of the seats at the next stop, and Adrien gratefully sank into it. He had a long ride ahead of him, and a longer night still, and he was exhausted. He needed to conserve what little energy he had. Even if Hawk Moth—for some reason—decided to give him a night’s grace, he should already be back at the show, and he couldn’t turn up with bags under his eyes or let his aching muscles show in his movements. It was simply Not Acceptable.

And acceptance was all Adrien was trying to get from his father these days.

5:47 PM

“Wait, hold on, dawg, that fight you told me about went down here?”

Randy glanced over his shoulder. The Am Drag had stopped short and was staring at the building where this fashion show was being held. He nodded. “Yeah, why? You know it?”

The dragon swallowed. “I know someone who’s down there.”

Randy looked back; the crowd had gathered outside again. “That can’t be hard,” he said. “Even I know someone down there, and I’m not even from here.”

“Aw, man,” groaned the dragon. “She’ll hate me crashing, but I’ve gotta warn her. Do me a solid and keep watch for your friend, Ninja. If you see him, let me know.”

“How? You totally wrecked my cell with that shoob move of yours.”

Randy hadn’t known dragons could roll their eyes, but apparently they could. “Yo, it’s not that big a deal. I know someone in electronics. I can replace it by, like, tomorrow. Give you something with a number programmed into it where you can reach me. In the meantime….” The Am Drag hesitated, but Randy was not about to throw him a bone. A replacement cell phone would not replace everything he had just lost on his old one, which included text message arguments with Howard that Randy had actually managed to win.

Randy didn’t see where the Am Drag had pulled it from, but he was holding out some green thing between his claws. “It’s an earpiece. The channel’s pre-set, so just put it on and touch the button on the side to turn it on. I am not usually the one saying this, but keep quiet unless you have to, ya hear? I don’t want anyone realizing what these things are.”

Randy took it and looked at it. “Isn’t it pretty obvious?”

“I dunno. Apparently they can pass as wacky earrings on girls. I didn’t design them. Just holla if you need help with anything, or if Chat Noir shows up. I…I need to talk to him. Just, uh, don’t tell him that if you see him, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

Most of that was a mess of lies even to Randy’s ears, but whatever. The Am Drag probably already knew Chat Noir anyway and he was now part of the setup of some elaborate joke. No matter; he was down for a bit of fun, and if he found more proof of the Sorceress, this would give him a line to the American Dragon. He wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity like that. Not having to fight the Sorceress alone would be a relief, and working with a dragon would be honkin’ bruce. Way better than just fighting alongside cat boy, assuming Randy ever had the chance to fill him in.

He should’ve never waited so long to follow, but it’s not like he’d been going in the wrong direction, anyway. Finding Chat Noir’s stick thing proved that. But for him to be missing…. Was he too late?

Nah. More likely, Chat Noir had needed to use the litter box. That was one of the main reasons Randy would run off from a fight faster than usual.

“No problemo,” Randy said. “And, hey, can you maybe— Wait, where are you going?”

The Am Dragon, who had launched himself back into the air, snaked his neck down to look at Randy as he hovered a good twenty feet above the rooftop. “I need to talk to someone. Don’t worry; I’ll be in contact again soon. Just watch your step in the meantime, ya hear? Something’s going down in the NYC, and the Am Drag ain’t able to completely head it off.” And then he beat his wings again, gaining height and momentum before he shot away.

It was the second time in half an hour that another hero had just bolted on Randy. Maybe Howard was right. Maybe he should wash the suit. He was pretty sure the stench of the smoke bombs wasn’t going to come out, and he’d always thought it just kinda cleaned itself anyway because he’d never had issues before, but this was getting ridiculous.

Whatever. He should check on McFist again and make sure his ride hadn’t left without him. He doubted Marci would want to split before the show, but the Sorceress’s attack might’ve thrown things off. McFist might not be too keen on being caught in the middle of something where he had no semblance of control—or Viceroy to bail him out.

Part IV

#secret quartet #adjl #rc9gn #danny phantom #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #crossover #adrien agreste #danny fenton #jake long #randy cunningham #my writing #ladylynse #crossover snippet #snippets #adjl snippet #dp snippet #rc9gn snippet #ml snippet

88 notes · View notes