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indigo-rainn · 7 years ago

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Keep Me Close

Chapter 1 – Tidal

SUMMARY: When something goes wrong during Sasuke's two-year solo quest for redemption, Konoha launches a rescue mission to get him back. However, when things start to go south, the team struggles to make a decision: do they save their friend, or risk everything to prevent his skills from falling into the wrong hands? / SasuSaku, Team 7

A/N: Posted this originally on FFN, but I thought I’d share it here as well. I’ve been getting back into the fandom recently after many years away, and I love how quickly the SasuSaku feels came rushing back. <33 Can’t get enough of these two.

I hope you guys enjoy!

The lavender sky dipped itself into corals along its horizon, darkened just overhead to a touch below indigo. Stars winked on one by one within this shade, reflected too in the shimmering sea, joined by the stirring of an offshore breeze. The rush of waves against the sea cliffs below served as the only sound, spare the soft tapping of footsteps on the ledge above. They belonged to a passing shadow by the name of Sasuke Uchiha.

A gull cried overhead, and the raven-haired shinobi tracked its movements warily before the bird disappeared beyond the trees. His obsidian gaze fell back to the ocean – he hadn't been to the coast in years, and he had forgotten the loudness of it. The salt in his nose, the rush of the waves in his ears – it was all a distraction, a nuisance that he didn’t particularly care for. He could see the enjoyment of it, but now, at that moment he found it put him on edge.

Sasuke paused to pull a scroll from his pocket, and unfurled it on the ground. He yanked open a pen with his teeth, and scribbled his note. He scowled at the mess of it – writing was exceedingly difficult with one hand – and made an attempt at smoothing a few lines.

Kyreen ETA: midday tomorrow. Criminal org.? Q. harbor master. SU.

Sasuke whistled through his teeth as he rose to his feet, rolling the scroll as a bird circled. It landed evenly on his shoulder, ruffling its feathers and nuzzling his cheek with affection. He pushed the creature away from his face and set to tying the parchment to its leg. In a moment, Sasuke had finished, and the bird took off into the night toward Konoha.

During Sasuke's most recent visit to the village, Kakashi had been adamant about daily check-ins. He'd sat Sasuke down, given him a hard time about his "angsty aloofness," and told him to send a daily note. A spree of missing nin reports from fringe territories, coupled with a particularly grueling winter across the continent, had made the council anxious over any "key assets" still out in the field.

"I'm not particularly worried about your wellbeing, Sasuke, but we have to set an example here…" Kakashi had explained tiredly. "Plus, I want to keep track of you. I'm getting old. I'm already old. Allow me this."

Sasuke's expressions tightened as he set off along the coast once more. It was only later, after he'd overheard a conversation between Shikamaru and Naruto before leaving town, that he had realized that the village was more worried about his kekkei genkai falling into the wrong hands than they were for his safety. He smirked at the idea. As if he could be beaten in combat, let alone lose to someone who could then steal his eyes.

Not possible.

What he would do, however, was take out whoever was abducting low-level shinobi along the remote coast of the Mist. Whatever scum waited for him in the fishing village of Kyreen, he would tie them in a neat bow and deliver them to the nearest police force. Then he'd take the missing ninja from whatever cell they were being kept in, dust them off, and return them to their homes. It was a standard mission, something fit for a chuunin – or even Team 7, at their formation – but since Sasuke was already in the region, he volunteered to get it done on his own.

Sasuke settled into a brisk pace. He wanted to get a few more miles in before settling in for the night. His mind wandered.

After all this, he would return to Konoha. That was something he'd decided on, without ever really deciding. It just came to him one morning. He was bone tired, and his body felt ready to stop for a while. He needed to rest, and he needed to train – the constant walking had taken a toll on his physical strength, and that was something he disliked.

He also wanted to plan out the next phase of his mission, and for that he needed maps, intel and, perhaps, a partner. A quiet, unexpected smile lifted his face in the dark.

Sasuke continued walking through the dark for some time. When he grew tired, he shielded his chakra, walked into the forest some ways, and pulled out his sleeping pad beneath an old oak tree. In a moment, he was asleep beneath his blanket.

Sakura sat on the porch at her home, wrapped in her thick down comforter. Ino was next to her, and together they stared out over the village, sipping on mugs of herbal tea. The lights twinkled, and the bubble of people leaving their various places of work grew quieter.

"This is way less fun with tea than wine. Do you have a bottle open?" Ino blurted finally, plopping her mug down and standing up from her seat. She cracked her back to the side, and then the other, and turned to go inside.

"No, but there should be an unopened bottle on the counter. Beers in the fridge too," answered Sakura. Ino disappeared inside: "You want one?" she called out. Sakura looked back and shook her head. Ino made her way back and curled up in her seat again, overfilled glass in hand.

"What's got you so down?" she asked, taking a long sip of the red, and eyeing her strawberry-haired friend. Sakura was never one to decline wine, especially when it was just the two of them.

"I don't know," she said after some time, sipping her tea. Then, after another pregnant pause: "The holidays are hard, sometimes. The hospital has been so quiet lately, and everyone splits off with their person after. The fact that I am totally alone hits home a little harder than usual. You know? It's just me and the cat. And it's not even my cat."

As if in answer to being spoken about, an orange calico slunk out from the apartment onto the porch. It sat between them, made a sound that was a cross between a meow and a belch, and hopped up onto the railing. The cat didn't really belong to anyone – it had followed Sasuke to the house one day, and never left. Now it required feeding and constant attention.

"You're not totally alone," said Ino. "He might not be here right now, but he's yours."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's been here a grand total of twelve days over the past ten years. And five of those days were in prison…" muttered Sakura. "And besides, he is absolutely not mine. Not anyone's. Running around the globe without a care in the god damn world. He's the worst sometimes."

"But, also, the best."

"…Yeah."

Sakura ran her finger along the rim of her mug absently, the taste of ginger on her lips. Ginger tea was his favorite, bizarrely enough. A calming tea, for one of the least calm people she knew of. Fitting, in his own ironic way. She closed her eyes, biting her lip hard.

She had never really known Sasuke, for all of those years she spent on his team, and then searching for him when he left. She thought she did, but she didn't really. Maybe there wasn't much to know, apart from the all-consuming revenge complex, and now that he'd had time to grow, there was a lot to him. All of these little facets and interests and hobbies that seemed odd when connected to someone of his prowess, but formed a part of him all the same.

Like the fact that he loved to paint. She'd left her watercolors out one evening when he'd popped through town, and he had settled into them while she'd stepped out to change as if he'd been painting all along. When he left, she'd put his finished picture up on the fridge – a cherry blossom tree, in full bloom. Now it was framed in her room.

"Sakura?" Ino murmured.

"Yeah?"

"It'll be okay. He'll be home soon," she said, setting her wine down momentarily to wrap her arms around her friend's shoulders with an affectionate squeeze.

"Love you, Ino. Thanks," said Sakura. Ino nodded, and threw up her arms in a big yawn.

"Aaand now that we're finished moping, can we please watch that reality show everyone's been talking about?"

"Only if you promise not to pause it every time that one guy comes on screen." They laughed, gathered up their blankets, and retreated indoors. The cat followed in behind them as a light snow wandered down from the sky.

Sasuke watched the town of Kyreen bustling about from a safe distance, assessing the layout before making his final approach. It was mid-morning, and the village looked nearly the same as every other town he'd passed along the coast, nestled against an inlet with a single dock and a disheveled collection of dinghy's bobbing in the water. There were more buildings in Kyreen than the last town he'd passed through, however. From his vantage in a tree, he counted ten residential homes as well as several shops clustered in a circle around an open market area. A low fence circled the town, with an open gate to the main road. Someone had stuck a hand-painted "We welcome travelers!" sign next to the entrance.

Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary. The ebb and flow here was standard – fisherman went out on their boats, came back with their catch, unloaded, and their wives exchanged the catch in the town square for grains and baked goods and whatever else there was available. The smell of smoked fish filled the air. Happy dogs lounged about in the sun, and children played along the water's edge.

Sasuke picked out the harbor master's house without too much difficult – it was the largest residential building, and had a somewhat new coat of paint. The man who Sasuke suspected to be the harbor master was just inside, his chakra signature seated at a table in the main room. A few weeks ago, this same man had sent an urgent letter to Konoha. Of the twelve shinobi that had gone missing, four had been stationed in or around this town, and one of those three was the master's own son. The town was scared, and thieves would soon circle.

Sasuke dropped from his perch to the ground, gathered his cloak around him, and made his way toward the town. Although snow had not yet fallen, the bite of winter lurked in the air, and the people he passed as he entered town were bundled in furs. Seal furs, by the look of it. Despite the cold, everyone was quite friendly and, were it not for his silence, would have happily engaged him in conversation and perhaps asked him to tea. He found it uncomfortable.

He approached one of the market stalls he'd picked out from afar, run by a very elderly woman selling assorted rice balls. She perked up when he stepped forward.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" she gushed, pulling back her curtain so that he could get a good look at what she had made for that day. Fish, crab, chicken, with various spices for each. He pointed at the fish one, and she grabbed two, wrapping them in a fabric napkin. She handed them to him delicately, and he passed her a few bills.

"I've got a chair over here, if you'd like to sit," she offered as she plopped herself into one of two Adirondack chairs beside her stand. He joined her, nibbling on one of the rice balls. It was surprisingly rich.

"Thank you," he murmured. She nodded and laced her fingers together, looking at him up and down with curiosity. She was a short woman, with dark leathered skin and long fingers. Her hair was wild and gray, pulled back in a messy bun, stuck with beads and braids and at least one feather.

"What brings you to town?" she asked finally. "We don't get many handsome young men passing through these parts."

When Sasuke blanched, she quickly continued: "Oh, wipe that expression off your face. I'm not trying to set you up with my granddaughter or anything silly like that! Just making conversation. Finish your food, child."

He did as he was told, and turned to watch the market bustle about them as he ate. He liked this old woman, as old and grizzled and off-her-rocker as she was.

"Tell me about the harbor master, if you would," he said after a time of silence, turning back toward the woman. She blinked, then leaned back in her chair.

"His name is Enko. Good man, yessir," she answered slowly. "He treats the whole town like family. Every one of us. Good man."

"Go on." The hesitation in her voice spoke volumes.

"Well, his son went missing a few weeks ago. He was a kid, just out of the academy up the coast. He was back visiting, and went into the woods to pick some herbs with his mum. They never came back – the wife was a bloodied mess, cold when they found her. The son had just vanished into thin air." As she told the story, her hand involuntarily moved to her chest, where it clasped a pendant around her neck. "Enko doesn't leave his house much anymore, really. Can you blame him? Nothing like this has happened here before. A week later, two more kids are gone. Another just a few days ago. It's all going to hell."

"Can you tell me more about the kids?" Sasuke asked after a long pause, when it appeared that the woman had caught her breath. "How old were they? Skill level?"

"Enko's son, Dan, was not quite 14. I used to watch him when his parents were busy. Scrappy kid, dark hair and dark eyes. The others were older, all teenagers. The most recent was in his 20s – he had one of those green vests that ninja wear. They were all good kids… I don't know why someone would do something like this."

Sasuke folded and refolded his napkin in his hand, a feeling of unsettledness rising in his gut. He wanted to speed this up. He asked for the woman's name.

"Gana. And yours?"

"Sasuke." He stood and offered her his hand, which she shook gratefully. Then, he turned and trudged toward the harbor master's house.

Sakura sat on her desk at the front of the class, watching her students scribbling away. Exam day was an easy day for a teacher, but a frustrating day for a doctor. Her time felt wasted watching over these kids write – she wanted to be in the ICU, helping her burn victim from the day before. She glanced out the window, the sun shining brilliantly against the newly-fallen snow.

One by one, the students handed in their papers, thanked her, and headed out to enjoy a few weeks of the class-free holiday break. She didn't blame them – her class was known for being one of the most intensive in the Konoha medical school.

Sakura locked up the classroom behind her, exams in hand, and slipped into her office. She dropped off the exams in the TA's box, grabbed her bag, and headed to the hospital wing at a fast clip. She pushed through the double doors, and the rush of beeping monitors and nurses brought her immediate ease. She changed into her scrubs mechanically, dropped her bag in a cubby, and dove into the fray. Within minutes, she was setting a child's arm, and then healing a puncture wound from an exercise-gone-awry, and then back to setting another broken arm.

"Here, I want you to hold up your good arm like this. Okay?" Sakura raised her hand, and the five-year-old she was treating mimicked. It was a way to distract. "Perfect. Hold that there, and I'll be right back with your new armor!" I.E. a splint for his wrist.

She turned, her tray of scalpels and bandages in hand, and froze midstride. At first it was just a pain in her chest. A white-hot pain that snatched her breath. Then it spread, in a blindingly wild fire, filling her with a fear and a horror that was not her own. Her body trembled violently, and she tried to open her mouth but couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Then, the screaming. The most viscerally horrible screaming she'd ever heard – a tortured screaming, agony over and over again in her ears, more agony than she'd experienced – ringing in her ears like a violent drum. Screaming. The tray clattered to the floor, tools flying in all directions. She crumpled against the wall, covering her ears, but couldn't get away. Tears leaked from her eyes as she sunk to the floor, nurses crowding around her as she curled into a ball on the linoleum. She couldn't hear them over the screams. Screams that, as she was forced to listen, she knew she recognized.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

Enko, the harbor master, eagerly led him into the kitchen. Although his eyes were gray – the kind of deep gray one gets from prolonged grief – he smiled pleasantly, and showed Sasuke around the main level of his house as any good host would. He was a stocky man, with thick arms and a thick white beard. His clothes were simple, his demeanor equally so. A fisherman, who'd lost his wife and son, trying to make things right.

"Can I interest you in some tea?" asked Enko, after offering Sasuke a seat at the kitchen table. He nodded, and Enko busied himself at the kettle. Sasuke, meanwhile, took a moment to examine the room.

The house was simple enough – very little decorations, no paintings or photos or anything like that. Old floral wallpaper, a few trinkets on the shelves, and simple furniture. He sensed no other chakra signatures in the house, and he checked to make sure.

Enko set two mugs on the table, and took a deep sip of his own. "I hope you like green," he said quietly, glancing up at Sasuke for nervous affirmation. Sasuke thanked him, and sipped at the drink. It was warm and delightfully bitter. Although not his favorite, it would certainly do.

"Tell me everything," Sasuke said quietly, folding his hands in front of his face and leaning in.

Enko talked at length, repeating much of the information offered by the woman at the stand. He was out fishing for the day, his son visiting home after being away from some time. They went out to the forests to forage, and never came back. Enko stared into his mug, his demeanor saddening as he pressed on.

Sasuke made a sorry attempt to stifle a yawn as the man spoke. He was very tired – he had slept poorly the previous night. He took another sip of his tea and shook his head to clear himself.

"Can you tell me more about your son? How old was he?" Sasuke managed as Enko stood and moved into the kitchen. He took out a few biscuits from a cupboard, and set to arranging them on a plate.

"He was a good boy. Tall, smudge of dark hair. Bright brown eyes, like his mum. Terrible at taijutsu, but he had a knack for substitutions. Best in his class!" Enko seemed to lose his train of thought, before picking it up again. "He was eighteen."

Eighteen? Why did that seem wrong?

Sasuke sat back in his chair. His head was swimming, he couldn't think. Something was wrong. His eyes flicked up to glare at Enko, and found the man watching him closely, an odd gleam to his eye. Sasuke tried to stand up, and stumbled back. His body felt heavy and unresponsive. He squeezed his eyes shut, but found his mind unable to keep a straight thought. He gripped the edge of the table with his hand such that his knuckles turned white, mustering all he had to stay steady.

"W-what the hell did you do to me?" he growled through gritted teeth.

He could sense Enko rushing toward him, but it was at a lag. He tried to gather up his chakra, but the threads evaded him. Something heavy rammed into him, and he fell back hard onto the wood floor. He tried to activate his eyes, but couldn't. He tried again, and the familiar red swam before his vision, but slowly. At a lag. This is bad.

A feral instinct took over, and he drove his knee into the person that had attacked him. Everything was blurry, he couldn't see anything at all. He could feel the edges of his senses going black – he was passing out, that much he knew – and fury lanced through his limbs at the thought of it. He forced his chakra through, and didn't realize until after that he was screaming. At once he could see, and his Mangekyou slid easily into place –

But it was too late. He looked down, only to see that he was standing in the middle of a seal on the floor. A seal for blocking his abilities. There were seals everywhere, actually, and he was in the middle of them all. And they were glowing, in the midst of activating, seconds away from sealing his abilities away. An ambush. A fucking perfect ambush.

Rage consumed him. Screaming in fury, he lit fire to the room. The black of unconsciousness closing in on him, he sent black flames everywhere. Burn in hell, burn in hell, burn in hell–

A blinding light swallowed the room as the seals finished activating. His screams turned from fury to pain. He collapsed in a writhing heap, unable to see or feel or think apart from the pain inflicted by the seals. And then he was out, limp on the floor as the enemy scrambled to cart him away.

End of Chapter 1! What’d you think?? I will upload the rest of the chapters here soon, but if you’re dying to read more now, you can find up through Chapter 5 here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12764887/1/Keep-Me-Close

Thank you for reading!

xoxo

Indigo

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #sakura #sasuke #naruto shippuden #naruto #team7 #sasusaku fanfiction #fanfiction #KeepMeCloseSS

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queen-of-the-merry-men · 7 years ago

Photo

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS: A SUNNY SIDE PREQUEL

A holiday Sunny Side flashback to Regina’s first Christmas home from college, and her reunion with Robin, who chose not to go to college.

Read on FF.net.

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DECEMBER 2003

Winter in Storybrooke is always a magical time, just like it is for any small town. Kids run around with their thick fluffy jackets, scarfs flying behind them as they frolic through the cold. Residents string up their Christmas lights and hoist up their decorations so their homes will glow in the night. Snow falls over rooftops and roads, transforming the place into an image from a Hallmark postcard. Yes, winter in Storybrooke is a magical time… if you’re into that sort of thing.

Nineteen year old Robin Locksley was not a fan.

Truth be told, winter would never be his favorite time of the year. He personally found the whole season to be quite confining, forcing him into thick sweaters and indoor activities.

On this winter day he stood behind the counter at Granny’s Diner, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder as he leaned against the counter with his eyes trained directly at the clock on the wall. As he sighed impatiently a new customer walked through the door, letting in a gust of wind and sending a shiver down his spine. He moved closer to the order counter hoping its window to the kitchen would provide him with a little more warmth. Crossing his arms he returned his attention to the clock.

11:40.

Just twenty more minutes and his shift would be over. Then he’d finally be free to stuff himself into his jacket, brave the winter cold and head over to the campsite. And then he’d finally see Regina again.

“Are you watching the clock or trying to make it explode?”

Smirking, Granny approached him at the counter ripping another order from her notepad and passing it back from the kitchen.

“You keep staring at it like that it’s gonna start going backwards just to spite you,” she warned.

Robin rolled his eyes but turned from the clock. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Last thirty minutes are always the hardest.”

While Granny only shook her head at him, his cousin Ruby walked up with a shit-eating grin on her face and giggled. “Don’t give him such a hard time Granny. He’s just excited because Regina’s coming back.”

She mockingly sang the last three words causing Robin to glare at her. Ruby paid him no mind though, she only wiggled her eyebrows at him provocatively before turning to refill a customer’s coffee.

Granny sighed, wistfully. “I gotta tell you, I have missed that girl,” she said. “It’s been a little sad not havin’ her around.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Robin would be the first to admit that things around town had become rather dim without the presence of his best friend. It’d been four months since she’d headed off to college, the longest they’d been apart since they were ten years old. He missed her. All the emails and phone calls in the world couldn’t make up for not having her here.

Granny sent him a pitying look before rolling her eyes. “You can go.”

Robin’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied, waving him off. “If you’re just staring at the clock you’re useless anyway.”

A grin broke out on his face as he kissed her on the cheek, excitedly whispering a thank you before running off to get his coat. Ruby watched him go, her jaw dropping in indignance.

“Hey! How come he gets to leave early?!”

“Because he’s my favorite this week,” Granny shot back, giving her a stern look as she pushed Ruby out from behind the counter. “Now get back to work, table six is waiting.”

Ruby threw her head back with a groan but did as she was told. Robin was sure to send a smug wink her way before heading out the door with an excited grin on his face.

xxxx

It was cold as hell outside. Snow had started to fall and Robin’s cheeks had grown bright red as he sat on a picnic table waiting for Regina to arrive. They’d agreed to meet at the old campsite right outside the town, their favorite spot since they were kids.

He rocked back and forth as he waited, trying to muster up a little extra warmth. He thought about Regina and wondered if she’d changed much in her time at school. When she’d left they’d made promises of daily phone calls and weekly emails but that didn’t exactly last. He’d heard from her often at the beginning but somewhere around month two things had begun to taper off. She’d called less and less. If he was lucky he’d get an email from her once every few weeks but they grew shorter as time went on. It was disappointing to say the least but he couldn’t blame her. She was off at college, exploring the city, probably making new exciting friends. She couldn’t spend all her spare time keeping up with him. It was fine. He just hoped she was having a good time. And she had called to make sure that he knew she was coming home for Christmas so it wasn’t as if she didn’t care. She was still his best friend. And that he could be sure of. Mostly.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a black BMW pull up to the campsite and he hopped off the table, an excited grin reappearing on his face. The engine had barely turned off before Regina was stepping out of the driver’s side, bundled up in a stylish trench coat and thick scarf. He saw her bright smile from across the field and started making his way over to her. In seconds he’d scooped her up in a bear hug, one she happily returned. Warmth spread through him as the sound of her laughter hit his ears.

“God I’ve missed you,” he whispered, squeezing her tighter.

“I missed you too,” she replied, patting his back. “But can we please do this in my car, it’s so damn cold out here.”

An easy laugh came from Robin as he nodded his head. “Sure.”

They quickly settled inside the car, Robin breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the warmth of the A/C hit his cheeks. Sitting in the passenger seat he finally allowed himself to take a good look at her. She looked… different.

He tilted his head, eyeing the dark hair that sat under a newsboy cap. “You straightened your hair?”

She nodded, reaching up to touch the ends of her newly straightened locks. “Yeah, found a hairstylist a few months ago. Thought it was time for a change.”

Robin raised his eyebrows in surprise. Wild curls had been her signature look for as long as he could remember. Even in high school when she’d tried to tame them with rollers and flat irons she never managed to keep them under control for long. It was a little jarring to see her without them.

“Looks good right?” she said, with a proud smile.

“Yeah,” Robin forced himself to say. Honestly, he was a little disappointed. He’d missed seeing her curls.

“I see you lost the glasses too,” he said, gesturing toward her eyes.

“Yep,” she replied. “Figured since I’m officially an adult I should just switch to contacts.”

“Yeah, cause only children wear glasses,” he quipped.

“Shut up,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Robin shrugged his shoulders. “Well…”

Regina’s cellphone started to ring and Robin felt a wave of relief. Saved by the bell it seems.

Digging her phone out of her pocket, she sent him an apologetic look. “Sorry, it’s probably mother.”

The look on her face when she stared down at the screen told him she was right in her assumption. He watched, silently, as she gritted her teeth and sighed before answering her flip phone.

“Yes mother... yeah I’m done with the drive… mother, I told you I was stopping at a few places in town first… yes, I do know how long it’s been… I just wanted… okay, fine, I will be home as soon as I can, I promise… yes… see you soon.”

She snapped the phone shut and rolled her eyes. “Practically had to beg her for this phone and now she’s using it as a leash.”

Robin smirked but his eyes turned sympathetic. “Cora wants you home?”

“Yeah,” sighed Regina, dismayed. “Do you mind?”

“No, you know how much I love a trip to the Mills house.”

Regina scoffed.

“Really,” insisted Robin, widening his eyes to feign innocence. “I think your mother has really missed me since you’ve been gone.”

His sarcasm earned him a small chuckle as Regina switched the car in gear. The idea that Cora Mills would ever miss him was preposterous at the least. Robin had charmed more than a few people with his blue eyes and easy smile but Regina’s mother had never been one of them.

Christmas music played on the radio as they drove back into town, making small talk as they went. The whole time Robin watched her as they talked, this time really taking her in. More than her hair had changed. It took him a minute to figure out that she was wearing makeup now, eyeliner on her lids and gloss on her lips. It threw him. She’d never worn it when she lived here. It must be a New York thing.

“So how’s school?” he asked. “Made any fancy New York friends yet?”

“Uh yeah, tons,” she said, nodding her head but not looking him in the eye. “People are different up there. It’s really cool.”

“Met any guys?”

She snorted, smirking. “Oh please, like I have time for that.”

“So learning how to save the world doesn’t leave you time for hookups?” he joked.

“None at all,” Regina mumbled, distantly. She paused for a second, clearing her throat before turning to him. “But what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “It’s been four months and you’re not the only one who stayed in town. You hooked up with anyone?”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably. “Actually, yeah. I… sort of got back together with Shawna.”

Immediately her eyes widened in surprise and Robin winced, bracing himself for her reaction. Regina had never been Shawna’s biggest fan and he had no doubt he was in for an earful of her disapproval.

Regina’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He saw her press her lips together as if to keep from yelling but to his surprise she simply turned to him with a plastered on smile.

“That’s… great,” she forced out. “It’s nice.”

Robin stared at her. “That’s it? No lecture?”

“What do you want me to say?” laughed Regina, shrugging her shoulders. “Honestly I’m surprised she even took you back after the whole prom debacle.”

“She wasn’t that mad.”

“You had her handprint on your face for a week,” she smugly pointed out.

“Okay that’s true,” chuckled Robin, rolling his eyes. “But it’s not like I didn’t earn it. I did ditch her halfway through dinner to spend the night with you.”

“I was in the hospital!”

“Which she now realizes is why I had to go,” he said. Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed. “I know she might be a little dramatic but she gets me.”

“Gets you laid maybe,” she shot back under her breath, causing Robin to burst out in laughter. Still she sighed. “No it’s good that you have someone here. Being alone can be hard.”

A sharp sting went through Robin’s heart but he remained silent. Honestly, he’d expected more of a reaction from her but he supposed her time in New York must’ve mellowed her out. She must have much more important things to do than fret over his love life.

It wasn’t long before they reached the mansion Regina called home. As she pulled into the driveway, a wave of nostalgia fell over Robin. After the age of seven most of his memories were evenly split between Regina’s home and his own. He knew the Mills mansion well, everyone in town did, as the mayor’s home was practically a Storybrooke landmark.

Same as every year, Regina’s parents had gone all out for decorations. Christmas lights were strung up, a wreath was on the door and he just knew if he took one step inside he’d be accosted by the manufactured scent of cinnamon.

They’d barely pulled up to the door before it opened and Regina’s father stepped out. Mayor Henry Mills was a short portly old man with a smile warm enough to thaw ice. He rubbed his hands together in excitement when his daughter stepped out of the car. A matching grin appeared on Regina’s face as she ran over to get her father a hug.

“Daddy!” she said, hugging him tight.

“Princess!” he replied, with a small laugh.

While Regina and her father reunited in the driveway, Robin pulled her bags out of the back. “Good to see you, Henry.”

Henry sent him one of his signature warm smiles. “It’s good to see you too, son. I told you not to be a stranger. It appears you didn’t listen,” he joked, patting him on the shoulder.

Robin sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, just been busy with work, you know.”

After graduation Robin had picked up a job with Marco, the local handyman, and a second one at the diner with Granny. Neither was particularly thrilling but they kept him busy which was something.

Regina turned to her father. “Hey daddy, Robin’s invited to the Christmas party this year right?”

Henry nodded. “Of course, we’ve got an extra seat this year since Zelena decided to stay with friends for the holiday.”

Robin narrowed his eyes confused. “Your mother’s Christmas party? You’re actually going to that this year?”

He was surprised to see Regina nod her head. She’d always hated going to that party. There were never any people her age and the adults were always ridiculously stuffy. For as long as he could remember she’d avoided it as best as she could, sneaking off after an hour to escape to her room or head over to his house.

“Well, I have to go this year,” she explains. “Mother’s friends have kids who work at law firms in the city and if I want to get a good internship it’s best that I start networking now. You know, get in some facetime.”

“Right,” said Robin, nodding his head. “That’s smart.”

“Besides it’ll be ten times more fun if you’re there to keep me company,” she adds.

Honestly Robin could think of nothing he’d like less than spending a night trapped with Cora Mills and the Storybrooke elite but if Regina wanted him there…

“I guess I could dig my old tie out the closet,” he said.

“Thank you Robin,” said Regina, beaming at him. “Are you sticking around for a little while or do you need a ride back to your house?”

“No, it’s fine, I can walk back,” he said, nonchalantly. “You’re still coming over tonight, right?”

“Obviously,” she instantly replied. “Granny would kill me if I missed out on her Christmas movies and cookies.”

Robin chuckled. Truer words had never been spoken.

“I’ll see you then,” he said, bidding them both goodbye.

As he walked down the driveway toward the sidewalk, he let out a tense breath. Well, that had been… interesting.

xxxx

Regina had always loved winter in Storybrooke. It might sound sappy but she always felt like the first snow of the season carried a little bit of magic. It made people kinder, and towns prettier. It also brought along all of her favorite yearly traditions. She loved all the cooking, and decorating and gift giving. Especially Granny’s annual night of Christmas cookies and movies.

Eugenia “Granny” Lucas had been Regina’s nanny since she she was six months old and even though she quit when Regina was 12, the two of them still remained very close with one another. Especially since she was also Robin’s grandmother, or something like that.

Every Christmas since she was a kid she’d manage to spend at least one evening at Granny’s house making cookies and watching classic Christmas movies with Robin and his family. It was one of her favorite nights of the year.

However, when she pulled up to the Lucas house, she found herself feeling a little bit anxious. Her earlier reunion with Robin had been a little awkward to say the least.

It was strange. She’d known Robin almost her entire life. He was her best friend, they’d had so many conversations about personal, embarrassing things but when she’d met up with him earlier it was like she’d completely forgotten how to talk with him. It was like putting on a pair of old comfortable shoes and discovering that they no longer fit.

Taking a deep breath, she shook the thoughts from her head. She was probably overreacting. It’d been a long time since they’d last seen each other and they’d barely had time together earlier. Maybe things would click better tonight, when they had more time for each other.

Shuffling the bags in her hand, she knocked on the door feeling the excitement return little by little.

And then it trickled away when the door opened and she was greeted by bleach blonde hair and cheap perfume.

“Oh… hi Shaw-na.”

Robin’s girlfriend greeted her with a tight lipped smile. “Hi Regina. Welcome back.”

It had been nearly six months since the last time she’d seen Shawna Horowitz up close. Regina liked to think that she’d grown in that time. That she’d evolved past the point of gritting her teeth at Shawna’s obvious disdain of her, or rolling her eyes every time she displayed her signature insecurity. She liked to think that she’d finally reached the point where she was able to be the bigger person.

Clearly she was wrong.

The minute she caught sight of Shawna standing in Robin’s doorway, dressed in her Christmas crop top, staring her down as if she was the interloper at this event, she was instantly reminded of just how much she does not like this girl.

Regina shrugged her shoulders, expectantly. “Thanks. Mind moving aside so I can come in?”

Shawna forced out a chuckle but stood aside, calling over her shoulder. “Regina’s here! And she’s got bags!”

Pushing down her annoyance, Regina stepped inside and was pleased to discover that outside of Shawna’s presence, things in the Lucas-Locksley household were as seasonally pleasant as she remembered. Vintage Frank Sinatra Christmas music came from the radio, she could already smell the scent of ginger and cinnamon coming from the kitchen and decorations were out in full force. Tossing her bags onto the couch, she saw the Christmas tree propped up near the window and within seconds she spotted more than a few handmade ones she and the rest of the family had made over the years. She let out a content sigh. Somehow, even more than when she’d returned to her own house, she was wrapped in the feeling that she was finally home.

Rapid fire footsteps from the stairs reached her ears and in a flash she saw Robin’s little sister, racing down with a wide smile to give her a hug.

“Belle!” Regina immediately opening her arms to receive the hug, that Belle gave with a happy laugh.

With curly dark brown hair and the purest smile in the world Belle Locksley was the closest thing Regina would ever have to a little sister. In fact, if Robin was ever interested in a trade, Regina knew she would more than happily give up Zelena for Belle. She was sweet, kind and studious. Nine times out of ten she could be found with her head in a book. Despite the three-year age difference Regina had missed her while she was away.

“God I missed you!” sighed Belle, finally releasing her. Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered, “Things have been so boring without you here.”

“Good to know,” laughed Regina. She tilted her head toward the couch. “And you’ll be glad to know I brought you a gift.”

“Did you bring me a gift?” Ruby sauntered into the living room, mixing spoon in hand, raising an eyebrow at the bags on the couch. “Or did you forget me?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Yes, I brought you a gift Ruby. Though I doubt you’ve been nice enough to deserve one.”

“Why be nice when being naughty is so much more fun?” replied Ruby with a wink. She gave Regina a quick hug before plopping onto the couch. “Welcome back, Mills.”

Regina loathed to admit it but she had missed Ruby while she was in New York. Finding someone who could be as bluntly honest with her without crippling her self-esteem was proving difficult.

“By the way, your gift is the one wrapped in red,” she teased.

“What a surprise,” mumbled Ruby. She rolled her eyes but Regina could tell that she was pleased by the smile that tugged on her lips. Shades of red had always been her signature. And it appeared that hadn’t changed while Regina was at school.

It looked like the gang was all here. All except two important characters.

Regina pinched her eyebrows together. “Where’s Robin?”

“He went out for more frosting. We’re running low.” Shawna finally spoke up. She’d been watching Regina’s reunions from the corner of the living room, and stepped up with a smug smile. “He’s gonna text me on his way back.”

She held up a shiny new flip phone. “It’s a Motorola Razr. Birthday gift from my parents. Isn’t it nice?”

“Dazzling,” Regina deadpanned. Shawna was always flashing something new and fancy in the faces of others. It was probably one of her worst qualities.

She turned to Belle. “Where’s Granny?”

“In the kitchen,” she replied, still scrutinizing the outside of her gift. “She’s been waiting for you.”

“And we all know how much she hates waiting,” said Regina, shrugging off her coat with a chuckle. “Guess I shouldn’t test her patience.”

Leaving Ruby and Belle to her gifts, she eagerly headed back toward the kitchen. As soon as she swung the door open she was hit with the heat of the oven and the scent of baking cookies. Standing by the kitchen sink, with her head over dirty dishes was Granny. Regina smiled as she took her in. Her silver hair was thrown up in a knotty bun and an apron was tied around her waist while her glasses slid to the end of her nose. She hadn’t changed a bit.

Regina walked over and wrapped her arms around Granny’s shoulders. The old woman chuckled warmly. “As nice as the hug is, some dishwashing would go a long way as well.”

Regina happily giggled as Granny patted her hand, whispering, “It’s like I always say. Everybody wants to lick the spoon…”

“...but no one wants to wash the bowl,” finished Regina, a smile firmly planted on her face.

Laughing Granny turned around and wrapped her in a warm hug. “Oh I’ve missed you sweet girl!”

“I missed you too Granny,” sighed Regina, breathing in her familiar perfume.

“Oh, let me look at you!” Granny exclaimed, pulling back to see her face. She reached out to pack her cheek. “Oh you look so good and I love this hair!”

“Thanks.” Regina shyly blushed at the compliment, reaching up to touch the ends of her hair. “I can finally get a comb through this.”

Granny chuckled. She had more than a few memories of trying to get a brush through Regina’s curls. It had been a constant struggle.

“Well, tell me about New York? What’s it like up there?” she asked.

Regina hesitated before nodding her head. “I will tell you all about it… if you take a break and let me do the dishes.”

Granny smirked before shaking her head and taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I knew there was a reason I missed you.”

Getting started on the dishes, Regina told her about New York. She described her classes and professors, all her favorite places in the city.

“Are you making friends though? Having experiences and adventures?” asked Granny.

Regina pressed her lips together and nods her head. “Of course, it’s a different party every night.”

“Good,” said Granny, pleased. She sighs resting her chin against her hand. “So maybe you can explain something to me with your big fancy education.”

“Hmm?”

Granny pursed her lips. “Why am I spending Christmas with Shawna and her Motorola?”

Regina snorted, as she dried her hands on a dish towel. “It’s not Christmas yet and it’s just for one night.”

“A night reserved for me and my grandchildren only,” she stubbornly pointed out. Regina smiled. She knew they weren’t blood but it always made her feel warm inside when Granny included her as a granddaughter. It reminded her that her family reached further than blood.

Granny shook her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t talk him out of it.”

Regina’s jaw dropped, offended. “Me?” she scoffed. “I wasn’t even here! Like he listens to me anyway?”

“You’re the only one he listens to,” Granny insisted. “You know he’s missed you like hell since you left.”

Regina huffs, remembering all the two sentence emails and missed weekly phone calls. “Did he?”

Granny tilted her head, sympathetic. “Of course he did. More than you know.”

Despite herself Regina felt a flare of satisfaction at her declaration. A part of her had honestly wondered. Shrugging her shoulders, she sighed. “It’s been a little hard keeping up with him. Feels like we’ve been getting our wires crossed a lot.”

Granny patted her hand. “Oh darling, I know. When you leave home it can be hard staying close to those you left behind.” She smiled wistfully. “But that’s what holidays are for. They pull you back, give you a reason to reconnect.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me to find my Christmas spirit?”

“I’m telling you that you’ve been gone for a while but you’re here now,”Granny said sternly. “You need to make the most of it.”

Resting her chin in her hand, Regina smirked. “I think you’ve gotten wiser since I’ve left.”

Granny chuckled as she rose to her feet. “Maybe you’re just more willing to listen.”

The kitchen timer went off and she pressed a kiss to the top of Regina’s head before opening up the oven and taking out the cookies. As the scent of gingerbread men filled the room, Regina found herself reminiscing about the first time she’d spent a winter night at Granny’s house. She and Robin had been seven years old and they’d ended up spending the whole night together, falling asleep on Granny’s couch long after everyone had went to bed. Looking back, she knew it was the first time she realized that she wanted to be his friend.

“Cookies done?”

She looked up to see Robin standing in the kitchen doorway, a paper bag no doubt filled with frosting under his arm and snowflakes still in his hair. Again she was struck by just how much she’d missed him… and how much she still did even though he was only two feet away.

He smiled when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table. “I see you made it over.”

“Like I would miss this,” she replied, sending him a small smile.

He chuckled, reaching into the bag and tossing her a can of frosting. “Got your favorite.”

“Cream cheese frosting!” Regina excitedly whispered, reading the label. He remembered.

Cream cheese frosting had been Regina’s favorite since she was twelve years old. Every year Granny had always made sure to keep a can for her when they decorated cookies. Looking up at Robin, Regina grinned. It wasn’t as though she’d expected him to forget such a thing but the fact that he remembered touched her heart.

“Did you get my favorite, Robbie?”

Ugh. Regina’s smile dropped when Shawna appeared and immediately latched herself onto Robin’s arm. God, she’d seen sloths that clung less than she did. Robin, however, didn’t notice the dip in Regina’s mood. He smiled at Shawna before reaching into the bag and pulling out a second can of frosting.

“Low fat whipped strawberry. Just like you like,” he replied, earning a happy squeal from her in return.

“Thank you, Robbie!” she said, smacking an audible kiss onto his cheek.

Regina tried her best not to roll her eyes. She’d forgotten how much she’d hated hearing Shawna use that god awful nickname.

Taking a deep breath, Regina swallowed her irritation and tried to focus on why she’d come in the first place. She was here to see Robin and like Granny said, she should make the most of it. Silently she vowed not to let Shawna ruin the evening.

Unfortunately, that vow was harder to keep than expected as Shawna made it more than clear that she refused to be ignored. As everyone settled into the kitchen to get started mixing the frosting, she stuck by Robin’s side, doing everything to ensure that she remained the center of his attention. Regina had already decorated two gingerbread cookies with buttons and smiles before she was even able to get a word in.

“Hey Robin, how’s it going working with Marco?” she asked, moving onto her third cookie.

Robin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s good,” he said. “A lot busier than I expected though. It seems like the town can’t go a week without someone’s pipe or window breaking.”

Regina chuckled. “Well, that’s good. At least you don’t have time to get bored.”

She licked a spot of frosting from the back of her hand. “Think you might want to stick with it? Marco is getting older and someone in this town’s gonna have to take up the handyman mantle when he finally retires.”

“Ha!” barked Robin, shaking his head in disbelief. “Please, that man could have a foot in the grave he’d still pick up a hammer if anyone asked. Besides, I like fixing things but it’s not something I want to do forever.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Regina asked.

“Right now?” Robin shrugged his shoulders. “Probably get to the gumdrops before Ruby eats them all!”

From her spot at the counter, Ruby glared at him, her mouth full of gumdrops. Still chewing, she shot back, “Hey, I’m not the only one eating them!”

“Yes you are!” Robin insisted. He rose from his seat to wrestle the candy from her clutches, leaving Regina to silently ponder his deflection. After a moment she internally cringed when she realized that he’d left her and Shawna with no buffer.

Shawna seemed just as displeased with the situation as she was, judging by the subtle look on her face.

Though she knew she’d be fine with just sitting in silence, Regina forced herself to make conversation. It was the holidays after all, and she was her best friend’s girlfriend. Might as well put in a little effort.

“So Shawna… what have you been up to since graduation?”

Shawna smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Not a lot. My dad made me his secretary at the logging company, so I’ve been working there.”

“That’s good,” Regina replied. “Do you like it?”

“It’s okay,” Shawna mumbled. “The office is boring but at least it gives me something to do until Robbie gets off work.”

Regina just hummed in response. “So, what do you do when you’re not working?”

“Oh the usual. Hang out with friends, get my hair and nails done. Just girl stuff,” she replied.

Shawna tilted her head, running her eyes over Regina’s face. “Oh and I gotta say, I am loving this whole transformation!” She gestured towards Regina’s hair and clothes. “Such an improvement over how you used to look. You know, in school all the guys used to say with a little work you could’ve been a bombshell.”

Shawna sent her a pinched smile before biting the head of a gingerbread man. Regina felt her cheeks go red. With embarrassment or anger she didn’t know. Honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised. Backhanded compliments had always been Shawna’s bread and butter. Especially when Robin wasn’t around to hear.

Regina just shook her head, quickly recovering. “Well, it is amazing how much your appearance can change when you move to a town with more than two clothing stores.”

“Ah yes, the big city,” said Ruby, taking a seat at the table, a cup of gumdrops still firmly in her grip. She looked over at Regina, her green eyes blazing with curiosity. “What is it like up there? All fabulous parties and cute guys?”

Hearing talks of New York, Belle also wandered over to the table. “Ooh, have you been to the library yet?”

Ruby narrowed her eyes at her cousin. “How are we related?”

Regina snorted while Belle just rolled her eyes.

“I have actually been to the library,” said Regina, looking over at Belle. “It’s huge. You’re gonna love it.”

“I don’t wanna hear about books, I want to hear about boys,” stressed Ruby, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you hooked up with any cute guys yet?”

“Please don’t answer that,” Granny called out, from behind the counter.

“I think she should,” interjected Shawna, who suddenly seemed very invested in Regina’s answer. Robin just remained silent.

“No I haven’t hooked up with any cute guys,” Regina answered, disappointing half the room. “But I’m not gonna lie, they do run rampant up there.”

Shawna hummed, lifting an eyebrow in Regina’s direction. “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll manage to snag one by Spring Break.”

Regina scoffed. “Yeah, meeting a guy is not my biggest priority.”

“It should be,” Ruby muttered, under her breath.

Again, Regina felt her cheeks go red. She knew Ruby didn’t mean anything by the comment but it did get under her skin. The truth was, Regina had hoped for a little bit of romance during her college experience but four months in and her prospects seemed just as barren as they did in high school. Maybe even more so.

Granny walked over and placed her hand on Regina’s shoulders. “Well, I am just happy that you’re going to school and getting an education. That’s the most important thing.”

Regina smiled as Granny pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Proud of you,” the older woman whispered in her ear.

Robin returned to the table and slinked back into his chair. “So, what is it like going to school at Columbia Law?”

“It’s great,” said Regina, a genuine smile appearing on her face. “Finally feels like I’m where I’m meant to be.”

Robin nodded, focusing his attention back to the cookies. “Must be nice,” he softly replied.

Regina tilted her head, curiously. Maybe it was just her imagination but for a second she thought she heard a hint of bitterness in Robin’s tone.

They finished up the cookies not long after that. Half an hour later the kitchen counter was covered in dozens of gingerbread men just waiting to be eaten. After finishing off her last cookie Regina went to the bathroom to wash her hands and was surprised when she came back to find Robin and Shawna gone.

“Where did those two go?” she asked Belle and Ruby.

Belle gestured toward the back door. “Shawna’s family is flying out of town tomorrow so she had to leave early.”

“And Robin’s sticking his tongue down her throat to say goodbye,” added Ruby with a smirk.

“Ugh!” Regina scrunched her face up in disgust. “I really didn’t need to hear that.”

Ruby giggled as Regina sat down at the table with them. “There it is!” she said, pointing at Regina’s face. “I knew you still hated her but it’s impressive how well you managed to hold it in.”

Regina glared at her. “I don’t hate Shawna...I just think Robin can do better.”

Ruby hummed in a disbelieving tone while Belle just shrugged her shoulders. “I like Shawna,” she declared, unconvincingly.

Ruby scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Please…”

“What? I think she’s nice!” Belle tried to insist.

“Nice enough to be your sister-in-law?” Ruby challenged, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

Belle immediately went silent while Regina narrowed her eyes at Ruby, confused. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Come on, you know Shawna’s pushing for the R-I-N-G ever since they got back together. Robin’s been half a wreck about it. Doesn’t really know what to say yet.”

“He hasn’t talked to you about it?” Belle softly asks.

Regina crossed her arms and remained silent. Because no, he hadn’t talked to her about it. In fact, he hadn’t even mentioned Shawna until she’d gotten back home. Pressing her lips together she tried to contain her rapidly boiling anger.

Shawna wanted to get married… and Robin was actually considering giving in to her?

Five months ago she would’ve sworn that she knew everything that went on in his life. But hearing this, from Ruby no less, made her feel like she was nothing more than a stranger at the dinner table. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t told her. Did she matter that little to him?

The back door opened and Robin walked in. He sighed, walking over to the table. “Okay, Shawna’s on her way home. Which movies do you guys want to watch this year?”

Regina stared up at him, her head suddenly heavy with the thought of him slipping a ring onto Shawna’s bony finger without telling her.

Careful not to betray her true feelings, she stood from her seat. “Actually, I’m gonna head out too.”

Robin’s eyes landed on her and she saw a flicker of hurt and disbelief pass over his face. “Already? Really?”

She nodded. “It’s been a long day Robin. You know I had to wake up early to drive down here and I haven’t slept since. I’m just… tired.”

It was a poor excuse, one that they both knew wasn’t true. She saw Robin clench his jaw before nodding his head in acceptance. “Okay, I’ll tell Granny you said goodbye.”

She forced a smile onto her face, muttering a tense thanks before disappearing from the kitchen. Slipping on her jacket, she left out the front door, making sure to grab Robin’s gift from under the tree before she left.

He probably didn’t even want it.

XXXX

Robin wasn’t a stupid person. He was smart enough to know that this Christmas wasn’t going nearly as well as he’d hoped. Cookie decorating had turned out to be a bust. He’d barely spent any time with Regina before she’d packed up and left early. And to add insult to injury, the next morning he realized that she’d dropped off presents for everyone in the house but him. It’d been days since she came over and she’d barely spoken to him, only offering up chit chat when she came into the diner and not much else. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she was pissed at him. But what possible reason could she have to be angry?

Standing in front of his mirror Robin groaned in frustration as he tried to loop his tie into a knot. It was the night of Cora’s dinner party and at this point he wondered if he should even bother showing up. With the way Regina was blowing him off he doubted she even wanted him there. After the failure of his fifth attempt, Robin threw the tie on his dresser and fell back onto his bed with a sigh.

Maybe things had changed between him and Regina. Maybe they’d finally drifted apart.

“You know, I really wonder how you made it to nineteen without learning how to knot your ties?”

Robin sat up at the sound of Granny’s chuckles coming from his doorway. Shrugging his shoulders he replied, “What can I say? I grew up in a house full of women.”

Smirking, Granny shook her head. “Do you need help getting ready for the party?”

“No,” sighed Robin. “Because I’m not going.”

Granny’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Why should I?” said Robin. “I doubt it’s gonna be any fun and it’s not like Regina wants me there anyway.”

“Of course she wants you there,” Granny insisted. “She’s your best friend.”

“Well she’s not acting like it!” snapped Robin. “She’s barely hung out with me since she’s got here.” He scoffed. “Probably thinks she’s too good for me now that she’s rubbed elbows with the Ivy League elite.”

“Okay, enough,” said Granny, raising a hand. Crossing her arms, she shook her head once more. “What the hell is going on with you two?”

Robin rolled his eyes but offered up no response. Granny sighed, before moving to sit next to him on the bed. “Robin, I watched you and Regina grow up together. Now you two were thick as thieves when she left here, what changed?”

Shrugging, Robin mumbled, “I don’t know. I guess we just stopped talking.”

“Then start again,” Granny ordered, her voice stern. “If there is one thing a relationship can’t survive it is laziness. You have to put in some effort.”

“I am!” he insisted. “I’ve tried. It’s not like I haven’t tried to talk to her.”

Granny tilted her head, sending him a knowing look. “Really? You’ve really tried?”

Robin’s resolve faltered. If he was being honest he would admit that he hadn’t really been reaching out to Regina like he used to in high school. He hadn’t told her that he and Shawna had gotten back together months ago, nor had he asked her opinion on her marital demands.

His gaze dropped downwards. “It’s been harder since she’s been gone. It’s not easy talking to her when she’s all the way in New York.”

“My sister was all the way in England and I managed,” Granny pointed out. “And that was before all this newfangled texting and email.”

She scrunched her nose as she listed all the complicated ways people were able to communicate and Robin smirked at her technological disdain.

“If it matters you find a way,” Granny insisted. “And as far as the distance goes, she’s right down the street for tonight. So I suggest you put on that tie and hop to. You don’t have long before she’s gone again.”

Sucking in a breath she stood from the bed. “Take it from me Robin, you don’t want to lose a friend like Regina. You’ll never find another one like her.”

Robin sighed watching Granny walk out of his room, leaving nothing behind but the weight of her wisdom. His eyes flickered to the desk in the corner where he’d left Regina’s Christmas present. He’d wrapped it days before she even got here.

A small token of affection for his best friend.

Standing to his feet, he grabbed the tie and got started on attempt number six. If he was going to beg for her attention he might as well look good doing it.

XXXX

The inside of the Mills house was just as Robin remembered. Grandiose in all seasons but especially so during Christmas. Stepping into the foyer Robin was greeted with the smell of pine and the soft sound of Christmas music coming from the living room, where he knew he would find a Christmas tree that stood at least 3 feet taller than him. There was a poinsettia on every table and an old fashioned nutcracker standing guard in every hall. He frowned when he saw one next to the coat rack. The ugly things had always creeped him out.

The party, though small, was well underway by the time he arrived. He saw at least a dozen adults gathered in the living room, drinks in hand, enjoying cocktail hour. He envied them. At least they had something to take the edge off.

Despite the fact that all the attendees surely lived in Storybrooke, Robin hardly knew anyone there. They were all a few leagues above his income bracket. He nervously tugged on his old tie. Seeing them in their expensive clothes and jewelry made him feel wildly underdressed.

“Robin!”

Coming from the hallway, Henry Mills approached him with a wide welcoming smile. “Glad you could make it!”

“Glad to be here,” Robin lied, giving him a hug.

“How are you son?” he asked.

“I’m good,” Robin automatically replied. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course,” said Henry. “You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

His brown eyes were nothing short of sincere as he spoke but Robin could only offer up a sheepish smile and nod. He’d always liked Regina’s father. Despite being mayor, Henry Mills was a very down to earth man. Always understanding and kind, especially to his employees and their family. When Granny had worked as Regina’s nanny he’d always encouraged her to bring along Robin and Belle whenever she felt like it. And after she’d quit to strike out on her own he’d never stopped treating Robin like anything less than family. He was a good man. One of the best as far as Robin was concerned.

Henry nodded toward the gift box in his hands. “That for Regina? I hope it’s not a tennis bracelet, if it is I’m gonna have to make some calls.”

Robin shook his head as he chuckled at Henry’s joke and passed over the box. “No, nothing that elaborate. Just something small I think she’d like.”

“I’m sure she’s gonna love it,” Henry assured him.

I hope she does, Robin thought to himself. He had worked hard on it.

Before he could elaborate any further the girl in question came downstairs. Robin took one look at her and felt even more underdressed than before. Wearing a black sweater dress and a bright red lipstick Regina looked more grown up than he’d ever seen her. As she walked down to the foyer he saw a flicker of surprise go across her eyes.

Walking over she cleared her throat. “So you decided to come?”

“Of course,” he said. “You invited me.”

“Right,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I just figured you’d find other plans by now.”

An awkward silence fell over them as Robin tried to discern whether or not that was a blow against him. It certainly felt like one.

Regina shrugged her shoulders. “I mean you always hated things like this.”

“So did you,” he softly replied, narrowing his eyes at her.

Regina looked up then, her brown eyes boldly lasering in on his blue. “Well, apparently people change.”

Now that was a blow. The air between them grew tense as Robin tilted his head, taking in her crossed arms and rigid stare. She was angry at him. He could see it now, clear as day. What he couldn’t see what the reason.

“Regina!”

The sound of heels against marble came cantering down the hall and within seconds Cora Mills appeared, looking as put together as ever. Her chestnut hair was up in a bun, as her hands reached up to her left ear securing a pearl earring in place. She let out a relieved breath when she saw her daughter standing in the foyer.

“Oh good you’re ready.” She frowned as she ran her eyes over Regina’s daughter. “Really, darling? Black? Could you not have picked a more joyful color?”

Robin saw Regina tense before answering her mother with a stiff, “I’m sorry. It was all I brought along with me.”

Cora softly moaned, dissatisfied. “Well, I suppose it’ll have to do.”

Finally dropping her hands from her ear, she pinched her eyebrows together when her gaze landed on Robin. “What are you doing here?”

Her displeasure couldn’t be clearer but Robin managed not to let his annoyance show. He’d always known that Cora Mills wasn’t his biggest fan. Frankly, she’d never done much to hide it.

“Daddy invited him,” Regina automatically answered.

Shaking her head, Cora rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed. “God that man,” she hissed under her breath. Eyeing Robin’s attire she reluctantly shrugged her shoulders. “Well… at least you had the good sense to wear a tie.”

Before Robin could muster up a response, she was already reaching out and grabbing Regina by the arm. “Come along, sweetheart. There are people you need to meet.”

Regina only glanced in Robin’s direction before allowing herself to be whisked off by her mother, who took a quick moment to remind Robin not to lurk before pulling her daughter away toward people of higher stature.

Robin didn’t even try to follow.

XXXXX

Cocktail hour was hell.

For one thing, outside of Regina, Robin was the youngest person in the room by a minimum of twenty years. The age gap made mingling more than difficult. He’d hoped that Regina would help him get through the night by whispering some of her legendary snarky commentary but after the foyer he barely got a moment with her. She spent the whole hour by her mother’s side, shaking hands with everyone who stepped in her direction.

He watched her from across the room. It appeared she was navigating the social minefield with ease, all smiles and laughter. From the snippets that he could hear, all the conversations revolved around school and her plans for the future. A topic Regina could cover with ease. She’d always known what she wanted to do, always had a plan for her future. Impressing adults with determination and drive came naturally to her.

Robin, however, was not so lucky.

He’d only spoken to two other people since he got here. They’d both asked him his plans for the future and he’d faltered both times. It’s hard to make “I’m not sure” sound interesting. Once you put it out there it would most certainly be followed by an awkward “well, good for you” or a forced “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.” It was that last one that really stuck under his skin. Seven months since graduation and his future was still muddy. He was starting to doubt that it would ever be clear.

After forty minutes he couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed some air.

Waiting for a moment when no one’s eyes were on him, he slipped out the door into the backyard. Cold winter air hit his skin and he inhaled deeply, finally able to breathe. It was cold as hell outside but he already felt more comfortable than he did inside. Wrapping his arms around himself he headed over to the heated gazebo next to the pool.

He sat down on a bench overlooking the pool, trying to recall the last time he’d been here. It had been six months ago, only a few weeks after graduation. Regina had invited him over to go swimming. Back then they knew they’d only had a few more weeks with each other and had been determined to make the most of it. They’d spent nearly every day together that summer, talking about the future, reminiscing about their past all the while promising each other that nothing would really change.

God… even back then he knew he was lying.

He always knew things would change. He just hadn’t realized how much.

Robin jumped, startled, when he heard the door close from across the yard. He saw Regina step outside, shivering in her sweater dress and black boots. She crossed her arms when she saw him huddled inside the gazebo.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” she hissed. “It’s cold and everyone’s inside.”

Robin shrugged. “I just needed some air. A chance to catch my breath.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, dropping her eyes to the ground. “Well, dinner’s gonna start soon.”

“I brought you a gift,” he blurted out. She turned back with wide eyes as he continued to speak. “I left it with your dad, he put it under the tree.”

“Oh.” He breath comes out in puffs of white clouds. “Thanks.”

Shifting from foot to foot, she avoided his eyes. “I got you something too. I just… left it at my dorm. I’ll have to mail it to you when I get back.”

Robin scoffed at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” she lied.

After ten years of whispered secrets and hidden looks, Robin would’ve thought that she’d know better than to lie to him… but still she tried. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone. She probably hadn’t even gotten him a Christmas gift at all. The thought probably hadn’t even crossed her mind.

He stared down at her, hurt, running his eyes over her, trying to search behind the makeup and straightened hair to find a glimmer of his best friend but he could hardly see her. She was hidden behind this new shiny girl who didn’t even have time for him anymore.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly offended. “Excuse me?”

“Why’d you even invite me here?” he asked. “It’s obvious that you don’t want to see me. You haven’t said a word to me all night.”

“Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay latched to your side the whole time,” she sneered. “I’m not one of your clingy girlfriends.”

“Shawna isn’t clingy,” he immediately replied.

Regina scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“You know what, Shawna might not be perfect but at least she’s real.”

“Ha!” barked Regina. “Since when is bleach blonde hair and a spray tan considered real?”

“You are acting like such a snob!” he growled.

“Having standards isn’t being a snob,” she shot back. “And for the record, Robin, I invited you because I missed you but clearly the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you haven’t spoken to me in weeks!” she growled. “I’ve called you and emailed you for weeks but you never have anything to say. You barely say two sentences to me anymore. Hell, you didn’t even tell me that you got back together with Shawna and apparently that happened months ago.”

“Oh my god! Why do you care so much about whether or not I’m with her? It’s not like you even like her.”

Regina glared at him. “You know what, Robin… I don’t care. You can screw Shawna, marry her and have a hundred kids for all I care.”

“Gee, thanks for your blessing,” he sarcastically snapped. “You know, maybe I didn’t tell you about her because I knew you’d judge me.”

“Whatever Robin,” she replied rolling her eyes. “You know you don’t get to be mad at me because I chose to grow up and you didn’t.”

Robin’s cheeks began to sting at her words. She could’ve slapped him and he swore it wouldn’t hurt less.

“I’m going home,” he said. “Have a nice life, Mills.”

“Right back at you, Locksley.”

XXXX

Regina could barely get through dinner after Robin left. After he’d quietly stormed out, it was like all the emotion from their fight balled up in her chest and refused to leave. Her skin burned all evening as she tried to choke down her anger with food, and her sorrow with silence. The meal was barely half over before she discreetly excused herself and disappeared up into her room where she could silently stew. She knew her mother would be furious that she’d bailed early but she didn’t care. She was too angry with Robin.

His words replayed in her head. Calling her a snob, defending Shawna, the way he’d looked at her. It played in her mind like a loop making her angrier with each pass.

As she sat in her room she listened to the noise from downstairs grow softer and softer, the number of voices disappearing one by one. When she finally heard the Christmas music cut off she knew the party was over. Sitting up on her bed, she steeled herself for the moment Cora would arrive and chew her out for leaving early.

Instead, there was just a soft knock at her door. Her father poked his head inside her room. “Safe to enter?”

Regina let out a relieved breath. “Sure daddy.”

She waved him in, pleased to see that he’d brought along desert with him.

“I saved you a slice of pumpkin pie,” he said, passing it over. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“Thanks,” said Regina, setting it on her nightstand. Normally she’d look forward to devouring a slice of her favorite holiday treat but tonight her appetite was small.

Her father sat next to her on the bed, and looked over with concerned eyes. “So… do you want to explain why I saw Robin leaving so early, and not happily I might add.”

Regina shrugged. “He left because he’s an ass.”

Henry sent her a stern look. “Language!”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “But he is being a jerk.”

“What happened?” Henry asked, concerned.

Regina sighed. “He called me a snob and said I was judgy, all because I dared to speak ill of his precious little girlfriend, who he didn’t even tell me he was dating again.”

She crossed her arms, still upset, and Henry comfortingly patted her knee. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Whatever,” she sighed, growing melancholy. “Daddy… do you still talk to your friends from high school?”

Henry tilted his head, thinking it over. “Not as much as I used to, no. I get a card or announcement every now and then… but nothing as substantial as a visit. I don’t know very many people who do.”

“Right,” mumbled Regina, growing thoughtful.

All through high school she and Robin had run into adults who told them to enjoy their friendships while they lasted, reminding them that after high school they’d drift apart and probably never speak again. Everytime she’d rolled her eyes, convinced they were delusional. She’d been so sure that she and Robin would be friends forever but now she wasn’t so certain. Maybe the two of them growing apart was just the natural order of things. An inevitable destiny.

“You’re worried about you and Robin, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Regina nodded, taking a deep breath. “I thought it would be easier coming home to see him but it’s like… we’re not clicking anymore. I can’t talk to him like I used to. Feels like he’s not even my friend anymore.”

Henry nodded his head understandingly. “I know it’s difficult, sweetheart, but you and Robin will get past this. I’m certain of it.”

Regina scoffed. “How can you be certain of it?”

“Because I’ve watched you.” He said with a smile. “Regina… do you remember when you were 11 years old and sprained your ankle on the balance beam at gymnastics?”

“Yes,” she groaned, still cringing at the memory. It was the first time she’d felt real pain.”

“Your ankle had to be wrapped and you were upset because a girl in your class was having a pool party for her birthday and it meant that you couldn’t go,” said Henry. “Do you know who showed up and spent the day with you even though it meant missing the pool party?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Robin did.”

She remembered that he’d shown up at her door, candy and movies in hand, prepared to spend the day in bed with her so she wouldn’t be the only one missing out.

“Yes he did,” said Henry. “And do you remember when you were 8 and we got you your first bicycle without training wheels. I wanted to teach you how to ride that day but do you remember what you said.”

Regina groaned, embarrassed. “I said I wanted to wait.”

“Why?”

“Because Robin’s birthday was three months later and I wanted us both to learn at the same time, I remember.”

“I bet you do,” laughed Henry.

Regina shook her head, despite the smile on her face. That bicycle had spent weeks in her garage gathering dust while she waited for Robin to get one of his own. Her father had ended up teaching them together.

“I know it seems difficult right now, honey,” said Henry. “But I have to believe that if you and Robin were truly meant to drift apart you would’ve done it by now. But you haven’t. You’ve stuck by each other’s side through high school, middle school. Why should college be any different?”

“Because he’s not by my side anymore,” Regina pointed out. “He hasn’t been there for a while now.”

Henry nodded his head solemnly. “Distance can make things harder, I know, but if you care about Robin like I know you do... You’ll find a way to talk to him.”

Regina looked over at her father. “How?”

“Well, maybe start with this.” He passed over a small, rectangular gift covered in shimmering gold, wrapping paper. “He brought that for you.” Regina gently took it from her father’s hands, noticing it was heavier than she expected.

“I’ll let you open it alone,” said Henry, standing from the bed. “But I hope it’s something that you like.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her head before leaving her alone with the gift. Regina sighed, looking down at it warily. Robin had always been a decent gift giver but she doubted that whatever lay beneath the shiny paper was enough to mend the crack in their friendship. No single gift was that powerful.

Tugging at the edge, she started ripping off the paper. Her breath caught in her throat when it was finally revealed what was underneath.

It was a wooden, three-sided photo frame with two pictures inside. The photo on the left was the two of them at seven years old, sitting at Granny’s kitchen table wearing matching sweaters with a pile of cookies between them. Their first Christmas together.

In the center was a second photograph that she recognized instantly. It was from last year’s Christmas. Taken ten years after the first picture, it was still the two of them, still at Granny’s table with another pile of cookies, the only difference being that they were 17 years old, officially too old to wear matching sweaters as she recalled.

The third frame was empty. In lieu of a photo there was just a yellow post-it note with a message written in black sharpie.

TO BE FILLED DECEMBER 2012.

A watery smile tugged on Regina’s lips.

She was right. A simple gift was not enough to mend all the cracks in her and Robin’s friendship.

But it was reason enough to try.

XXXXX

Main street was awfully quiet the next night.

It was the night before Christmas Eve, only a day after her fight with Robin, and Regina stood on the sidewalk in front of Granny’s watching through the window as he served the last customer for the evening. The diner always shut up early for the holidays and Granny had told her that Robin had offered to close up for the evening. Though she shivered in the cold air, Regina waited for the final customer to leave before she went inside. She wanted the chance to speak to Robin alone. Should things go badly she didn’t want there to be an audience.

Finally, the old man at the counter dropped some dollar bills next to his empty coffee cup and took off for the night. Regina sighed, watching Robin lock the door after him. Well, it was now or never.

She waited for Robin to walk away from the window before rushing over to the patio and kneeling next to the garden gnome by the front door, smiling when she lifted up its red cap to find the spare key, right where she remembered. Some things just didn’t change.

She wasted no time unlocking the door and walking into the diner’s warmth. It was always eerie being in Granny’s when it was empty, and so silent you could hear a pin drop.

She’d barely locked the door again before Robin poked his head out from the kitchen and softly groaned when he saw her standing there. He rolled his eyes. “If the doors are locked it means we’re closed.”

“Well, then maybe you should find a better place to hide the spare key.” She scoffed when he narrowed his eyes at her. “I used to work here too, remember?”

Robin only crossed his arms, defensively, while she took off her coat and grabbed a seat at the counter. “What are you doing here?”

Regina hesitated before speaking. “I came to see you,” she softly replied. “I opened your gift.”

She saw of flash of emotion go across his face before he turned from her, choosing to focus on wiping down the counters instead of her presence. “You did?”

She nodded. “I liked it a lot. It was clever… and beautiful.”

Robin’s hands slowed but he continued to wipe at the counter. “Glad you liked it,” he mumbled.

Regina stared at him, willing him to pay attention to her. “You made it, didn’t you?”

He looked at her then, surprise in his eyes, shocked that she’d even noticed.

“There wasn’t a price sticker,” she said, with a smile. “If there had been you would’ve forgotten to take it off, like always.”

His lips tick upwards, as if he was fighting a smile. Robin was notorious for leaving on price tags. It was bit of a running joke between Regina and the rest of his family. Sighing, he finally abandoned his cleaning and turned to face her.

“It wasn’t as much work as it looks,” he deflected. “I just wanted to get you something nice.”

“You did,” she said, with a nod. “Not quite sure I deserve it though. I haven’t exactly been the nicest friend this year.”

Robin smirked, leaning next to her at the counter. “Yeah… join the club.”

Regina let out a soft chuckle before sighing. “Robin… why’d you stop talking to me?”

He looked into her eyes and saw them drowning in confusion and hurt. It made him feel like such a jackass because he knew that she’d tried. She’d emailed and she’d called but he’d been the one who hadn’t responded.

“It… it’s hard to explain,” he said. “I just felt like I had nothing to say.”

“And is that true?” asked Regina. “Do you really have nothing to say?”

Robin shook his head. “I think I have something say, I’m just… too embarrassed to say it to you.”

Shock passed over Regina’s eyes before she let out a quick snort. “Robin… we’ve been friends since we were seven. I’ve seen you eat a piece of pizza out of the trash and you know I have a massive crush on Alan Rickman. There’s no such thing as embarrassment between us.”

Robin couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped his lips. “For the record, you should be embarrassed about the Alan Rickman thing.”

“He is classy, sophisticated and would treat me right,” she insisted, with a chuckle. “But I’m not here to talk about him. I’d rather talk about you.”

Robin sighed. “Well if we’re gonna do that, then I’m gonna need to borrow some courage.”

It was always a poorly kept secret that Granny kept a spare bottle of the good tequila in the third left hand drawer of her office desk. All her grandchildren - with the exception of Belle - had taken at least one swig from it. Never enough for her to notice but just enough for their lightweight heads to feel a bit more chipper during closing time.

However, it became clear when Robin took both the bottle and two shot glasses that one small swig wasn’t all he intended for them.

“Let’s call it Truth and Tequila,” he said. “We’ll take one shot of alcohol in exchange for one shot of honesty. You ask me a question, I take a shot and answer it for you. You do the same for me.”

Sitting in the corner booth, Regina grimaced as she watched him fill up the shot glasses. She hadn’t drunk a lot of alcohol in her life but still she was pretty sure tequila wasn’t her favorite. If this is what it took to get Robin talking though, she’d suffer through it.

Sliding the first shot glass over to him, she declared, “You’re the youngest. That means you drink first.”

“Fine,” muttered Robin, rolling his eyes. “Ask away.”

“Okay…” Regina hesitated, unsure of what to ask first. Of course she wanted to know about Shawna and whether he intended to propose but she didn’t want to risk putting him off. It was better to ease into it.

“How was work?”

Robin sighed, disappointed by her lack of nerve, before drinking his shot. “Slow,” he answered. “Hardly anyone came in. Guess all the parents would rather be home with their kids.”

Regina saw sadness in his eyes and knew that he was thinking of his own parents. This year would be his twelfth Christmas without them. Before she could even consider bringing them up Robin pushed the second glass in her direction.

“Your turn,” he challenged. “How was the rest of the party?”

She dropped her eyes down to her shot and took a deep breath before downing the tequila in three sips. Her face twisting up in discomfort as she felt it slide down her throat before warmly settling into her belly.

Once finished she looked back up at Robin, who was clearly taking pleasure in her reaction, and replied, “It was just as fun as you’d expect. Lots of parents bragging about their kids, talks of visiting Europe when things warmed up. Barely even made it through dinner after you left.”

Robin shrugged. “Bet your mom showed you off, though?”

“She did,” sighed Regina, nodding. “Even flashed a few of Zelena’s awards too.”

Her heart stuttered when she mentioned her older sister. She hadn’t seen her since graduation. They’d never been close but other than a chat here and there it felt like she hadn’t talked to her in years. Even still, she’d been disappointed to hear that she wasn’t coming home for Christmas. It didn’t exactly feel right that they were celebrating without her.

“You sad she didn’t show up?” asked Robin.

Regina bit her lip, then shook her head, wanting to change the subject. “It’s not your turn to ask questions, remember?”

She pushed the bottle of tequila back over to him and he scoffed before pouring himself another shot. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

She shrugged. “What’s it’s been like staying home?”

Honestly she didn’t think her question was such a heavy one but the way he paused, clenching his jaw, told her she was wrong. Robin downed his shot but still hesitated before giving her an answer.

“Staying home is… hard,” he said. “I get up, I go to work, I go home and that’s it most days. Nearly every week is the same and I’ve never been more bored in my entire life.”

He looked down at his empty glass, dejectedly, while Regina grimaced.

“That sounds rough,” she mumbles. “But at least you have your family… and Shaw-na.”

She still couldn’t help the bitterness that came with her name but saw that it brought a smirk to Robin’s face as he whispered a small yeah.

Straightening up and clearing his throat, he nodded toward her shot glass. “So… how are things at school?”

Regina’s shook her head before slowly drinking her second shot. “Things at school… are lonely.”

She paused, giving the alcohol a moment to help lower her inhibitions. “I haven’t made any friends and… I miss you. But it just feels like I have no one to talk to.”

Hot embarrassment rose up in her cheeks as she revealed her truth. Thinking of all the lonely nights she’d spent in her dorm room wishing she had someone to call or hangout with. In four months she still hadn’t connected with a single person and the solitude was starting to kill her a bit.

Guilt showed up in Robin’s eyes. “You could’ve talked to me,” he offered.

Regina huffs, rolling her eyes. “And get a two-sentence email in response?” She pointedly raised her eyebrow at him. “Yeah, been there done that.”

Robin blew out a guilty breath but still argued, “Well, you still could’ve called.”

“And you could’ve called too,” she shot back. “If you were so bored here, why’d you stop calling me?”

“Because I had nothing to say!” he blurted out.

Regina’s eyes widened and Robin sighed before continuing. “And maybe… maybe I was a little bitter that you left. I would’ve tried more if I knew you were having a hard time.”

He averted his eyes, the shame clear on his face. She’d almost forgotten about the game when she saw him reach for the bottle and pour another a shot.

“You said you were making friends,” he mumbled. “I just figured that you wouldn’t miss me.”

She stared at him as he drank his tequila, wondering how she managed to be best friends with someone so oblivious. Of course she’d missed him.

“I lied,” she softly admitted. Lightweight as she was, she could already feel the alcohol pulling on the edge of her mind. “I don’t have any friends in New York. I spend all my time either in class, or in the library, or in my room by myself. The most human interaction I have is with the sales associates at Barney’s.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” asked Robin.

Regina fell back against the booth, letting out a miserable breath. “Because it sucks, Robin!” She sighed. “I left this town thinking that if I had a clean enough slate and a good enough wardrobe change I’d stop feeling like a loser… but nothing has changed.”

Realizing that he’d just asked another question she poured another shot, feeling it sting the back of her throat as she drank it.

“Hey, you’re not a loser,” Robin gently insisted, leaning forward. “You’re the coolest person I know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”

“I mean it! You had plenty of friends in high school.”

“I had plenty of your friends in high school,” she immediately clarified, pointing a finger in his directions. “You were the one who would make friends like that,” - she snapped her fingers for emphasis - “and they’d also be my friends because we were a package deal. But I’ve never been good at making them on my own and I’m still not.”

Robin sat back, stunned, at her admission. “Wow… I never thought about it like that.”

“I did,” she mumbled. “A lot, in fact.”

She rested her chin in her hand and Robin could tell she was getting sad.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” His words slurred just the tiniest bit as she poured himself another shot. “Give me another question,” he ordered. “Make it as tough as you like.”

She raised an eyebrow, mischievously. Fine, he asked for it. Boldly leaning forward, she folded her hands on the table in a business-like manner.

“Why did you get back together with Shawna?”

Robin narrowed his eyes at her. Well, he saw that one coming. Taking a moment to steel his nerves, he swallowed his shot in one gulp. “I got back together with Shawna… because I felt like I had nothing better to do.”

Regina squinted at him, confused. “What?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. I mean I’m not in school, I’m not traveling. I have nothing planned for my future past Christmas. So when I found out that she wanted to get back together I figured… why not? At least I’ll have something in my life that’s moving forward.”

Regina’s jaw dropped in shock. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Not a bit.”

An offended squeak came from the back of Regina’s throat as she stared him down, judgment clear in her eyes. “You realize just how much of a jackass that makes you right?”

“I am aware of it, yes,” Robin grumbled, with a sigh.

She stared at him shocked. “Oh my god… is that why you’re thinking of marrying her?”

His eyes whipped toward her face. “Who told you that?”

“Guess,” she deadpanned.

It took a few seconds but he eventually closed his eyes and groaned. “Goddamnit Ruby!”

Regina leaned back in her seat with a small chuckle. “But seriously… do you actually want to marry her?”

“No, I don’t want to marry her,” he immediately replied.

A woosh of relief went through Regina’s body.

“But it feels kind of nice to have the option,” he softly added.

Regina sighed. “Robin… you know how I feel about Shawna…”

“Everyone knows how you feel about Shawna,” he chuckled.

“But,” she drawled, glaring at him, “even I think she deserves better than to be your backup plan or just a way for you to pass the time.”

“I know,” he muttered. “And since we’re being honest I’m already kind of planning on breaking up with her.”

Regina raised her eyebrows, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” said Robin, rolling his eyes. “I just wanted to wait until after the holidays. I mean I already screwed up her prom. I can’t be the ex that ruined Christmas too.”

Regina snorted with laughter and nodded her head. “That’s so considerate of you.”

Sighing, she shifted in her side of the booth so she could stretch out her legs along the seats. She’d had three shots now and her head was starting to feel joyfully dizzy as she poured herself a fourth. “Okay my turn, ask me something.”

“Hmm…” Robin thought it over as he matched her body language, stretching out in the booth. “Did you really like the frame I made you?”

She nodded her head before downing her shot, which went down much smoother than the last. “Yes, I loved your frame. It was beautiful and well-crafted.”

“Thank you,” he said, with a grin. “I lied before, I actually worked hard on it.”

“I could tell,” she mumbled, a loopy smile appearing on her face..

Robin sighed, resting his cheek against his hand. “Maybe I should just throw in the towel and become a carpenter.”

Regina tilted her head at him. “Do you want to be a carpenter?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I don’t have any idea what I want to be.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Everyone keeps saying that!” he stressed, a little louder than intended. “It’s all anyone tells me now!”

“They keep telling you that because it’s true!” she insisted.

Robin snorted, “That easy for you to say. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you were ten.”

“True,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “But that’s because I love it. You know I’ve always loved to argue. I like going to classes for it and learning about laws and cases. It’s honestly the only thing keeping me alive in New York.”

Robin glared at her. “Is there a point to this or are you just bragging?”

“I’m just saying,” she drawled, “that whatever you choose to do, you might be doing it for the rest of your life, so it’s smart that you’re making sure that you love it, even if it takes you a little longer to get started.”

A grateful smile appeared on Robin’s face as he listened to her speak. It’s the first time in a while that he’d actually believed someone when they talked about his future. “Thanks, Mills. You always did know just what to say.”

She smiled but his face grew solemn as his gaze dropped down to the table. “You know it got hard hearing you talk about New York. That’s why I stopped responding as much.”

“Really?” Her voice came out so soft and surprised as she stared at him, her eyes wide with shock.

Robin nodded. “Every time we emailed or called, you would talk about your classes and your plans for the future. And it kept reminding me that… I didn’t have any. I don’t have a passion, or a plan for my life. It’s pathetic.”

“It is not pathetic!” Regina immediately straightened up, unwilling to let him demean himself any longer. “You have time to figure it out. You don’t need to rush.”

“I know,” said Robin, his words blending together. “I’m so used to jumping into things without thinking but now I just feel like I’m… stuck.”

Regina hummed understandingly, before looking over with a wide smile. “Well… you know what would help get you unstuck?”

Robin groaned, shaking his head. “Please don’t say a pro and cons list.”

“A pro and cons list!” she proudly declared, banging on the table, causing Robin to throw his head back in despair. “I know you think they’re stupid but they are helpful. And they can help you figure out what you want.”

Robin only groaned in response.

Regina pouted. “What if I said we could make a drinking game out of it?”

Robin perked up. “Now that could be interesting.”

“I’ll get a notepad.”

Gleefully giggling she climbed out of the booth and ran toward Granny’s office to grab a notepad. By the time she got back, Robin had already poured them each another shot. She fell into his side of the booth, bumping into his shoulder before they happily clinked glasses. All night they traded shots of tequila for pros and cons of Robin’s future career, taking breaks to talk, and eat and dance to the music in the jukebox. It was the most fun Regina had in months and for the first time since she’d returned home she felt like she had her best friend.

The last thing she remembered that night was climbing back into the booth with Robin and staring down at the illegible pro and cons chart they’d created.

Leaning her head against his shoulder she whispered, “I have another question.”

“Shoot,” he mumbled, just as drunk as she was.

“Did you miss me while I was gone?” she softly asked.

Eyes closed, Robin sighed leaning his head against hers. “Every damn day.”

Regina smiled, pleased. “Good.”

XXXX

It didn’t take long for Regina to remember why getting drunk was a bad idea. In fact, she remembered as soon as she woke up. Probably because she was awoken by the rousing sound of six metal mixing bowls falling against a linoleum floor. The loud vibrations passed through her dehydrated brain like spears sending her shooting up in the booth where she’d fallen asleep.Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robin do the same, wincing with every subtle vibration. She’d had hangovers before but nothing as bad as this. Especially considering that when she and Robin woke up they most certainly weren’t alone.

Squinting against the morning light, a shiver went down her spine when she saw Granny standing next to the booth, surrounded by dropped bowls, her arms folded across her chest and fury dancing in her eyes. When she spoke her voice was dangerously low.

“Good morning,” she said, staring them down. “So… who wants to try and explain first?”

Regina glanced at Robin, who by the looks of it was just as hungover and terrified as her.

Granny nodded. “It’s okay. Take your time. Because I know you must have a hell of a tale to explain why I walked in to find the two of you passed out in the booth with my bottle of good tequila that is now three-quarters empty!”

Her voice reverberated against the walls causing them both to wince in pain. Remaining silent, they only grimaced in response.

“No answer?” Still furious, she chuckled. “Well I guess you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out while you’re scrubbing this place from top to bottom and finishing the chores that you conveniently forgot last night. Neither of you is leaving until this place is spotless.”

Robin found his voice then. “Ugh granny…”

Her eyes whipped toward him. “Robin Locksley, if the next thing to come out of your mouth is a complaint... I swear to god no one will ever find out what happened to you.”

Robin immediately shut up.

Granny gave them one last fiery look before heading back into the office. “Now get to work before I start banging pans,” she ordered.

Once she was out of sight, Regina let out a soft groan and tried to stand to her feet. She’d slept so awkwardly there was a crick in her neck and aches in her joint. Robin climbed out after her moaning in pain when the sunlight shot in his eyes.

She turned to him and shrugged her shoulders. “Hey… Merry Christmas Eve,” she whispered under her breath.

A smile tugged on Robin’s lips. “Merry Christmas Eve,” he repeated, just as softly.

Groaning he took a seat at one of the counter stools and stretched his back. Looking down at the counter, he squinted when he saw how dirty it was. “Are these… boot marks?”

Regina took a look and frowned. “Yeah… I’m pretty sure we danced up there last night.”

The two of them shared a look and bursted into a small, soft fit of laughter as they started to remember the night before. It felt good to get back in sync.

Sneaking a quick look around the corner to make sure Granny wasn’t coming, Regina gestured for Robin to follow her over to the coat rack. Digging into her coat pocket she pulled out a small festive envelope with his name on it.

Passing it over to him, she shrugged. “I lied. I didn’t forget your gift.”

A grin appeared on his face as he took it from her and immediately ripped it open. Inside was a train ticket from Storybrooke Station to Grand Central in New York.

“I hear New Year’s Eve in the city is magical. What do you say, Locksley?” She smiled at him. “Up for an adventure?”

#once upon an advent #oq #outlaw queen #oqff #oq ff #regina mills #robin hood #sunny side up #young oq #young regina

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thedivinemsem · 4 years ago

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“ I'm gonna live forever...Baby, remember my name”

This is apparently a Pothos rather than a Philodendron - at least thats what Googling told me.

I have five of them in my house at the moment....along with quite a number of other plants. But these are special because they began their life with me more than 25 years ago. You see, when I bought my first house in 1994 - the previous owners left a plant and a stuffed dalmation doorstop. I still have both.

As much as I liked the idea of indoor plants, the cat I had back then (Melvin) liked nothing more than knocking things off windowsills and shelves and pretty much anyplace he could get to. I can’t count the number of glasses I lost by leaving them on a table or counter unattended. And houseplants didn’t stand a chance.

Unless they were hanging plants. So I bought a macrame hanger (they were actually trendy at one point) and hung the plant up.

And it lived....not just lived but grew and thrived. Which is not something that generally happened in my world - I do not have a green thumb at all. So, when it got bigger than I could deal with, I cut it back...but out of guilt, I put the castoffs in a glass of water. And they grew roots, which of course meant I had to plant them, and so it goes.

I moved out and rented my house for 18 months or so - I don’t recall if I took all the plants with me, but I know I took at least one...because fast forward to 11 years ago when I bought this house......I once again hung my pothos - this time in some cool woven baskets from Ikea.

A number of events over the past few years and my own aging (I turned 60 last year) have had me spending a lot of time reviewing my life to this point and considering my own mortality (or expiration date, as my best friend puts it). Frankly, I hate aging - the wrinkles, the increased difficulty of physical tasks - I could go on with a whole laundry list of things I despise. But its inevitable...none of us live forever, and I suspect that there comes a time where most of us no longer want to.

Many religions teach that we do live forever if we believe - although its generally in a different place and in a different form, and I don’t think (as a rule) Christianity or Judaism assures us the ability to interact with the living once we have passed on. Even reincarnation doesn’t allow us to consciously bring our memories to our rebirth. I’m all for believing whatever gives you comfort and strength. But from my perspective, what we have now is all we have to work with. So each day should be considered a gift and I try to appreciate it as such.

If you’ve stuck with me so far, thank you. I really am getting to the point now.

The pothos in my house now is not the same plant I got 26 years ago...new roots and plants grew and old roots and plants died even in the original pot. The new plants in some cases look a bit different from the original - some are more speckled, some have no markings at all.

But they are still with me......and when I am gone, with a bit of luck someone else will take them home and water them once in a while...and perhaps take cuttings to root in new pots....and maybe even give the plants as gifts to others.

So this plant that I got in 1994 (and who knows how long it lived before then) will actually live forever....because parts of it will continue to grow and thrive as long as someone is willing to care for it.

And that is how I see my life. If I am able to give others something of value, whatever that might be, as long as that thing continues to exist and be shared...then I really do live forever.

It could be wisdom, or wealth, or my recipe for chocolate chip cookies, or even just my damn pothos plants. But what it is really doesn’t matter...whats important is that I make enough of an impact somewhere and somehow that I am remembered.

#deepthoughts #retirement #plants

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grahamparrish · 4 years ago

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Cat Peeing Remedy Super Genius Diy Ideas

With any luck, this program will be allowed out of the world, cat owners imagine what it is important in helping to deter rough play.He soon grew tired of the spot or spots he has not yet recently been infected, and which can help you investigate why your cat can get into everything.A raised red area called hives may occur at any age and this option is the root cause.Dogs diagnosed with Lymes disease also show signs of aggression or illness, they are behaving badly following an environmental change then it's simply a matter to be partial to insects-especially grasshoppers when they know that a cat lover, as I am, you may find it necessary to treat themselves, but some, such as injury, can be placed where you can put aside the litter box.

A regular visit to your zip log bags according to your cat.Cats need vaccinations, annual examinations, and they will chew on things, make sure your cat a huge difference for those that are known for their great fighting skills.Teach them the run-of-the-house, until they have been doing this because they have the cigars to play with it, thinking it's a vital form of cat such as whether you and your houseplants.* Small scabs on head, neck and along the outside potty, a sandbox especially for your cat's need to simply show him the correct place to scratch is to give the cat in question to become accustomed to their old scratching areas, here are some down notes to take precautionary steps such as who and what their natural instincts are to get out of their owners may consider Catnip sort of scratching your furniture or drapes and rugs are often chosen.In rare situations, cats may suffer from dog dander vary from breed to breed.

In some cases there is a well aimed bucketful or a soda can with a different brand.As you cat will be having any more fun to scratch for two weeks, even if he is scratching.A self cleaning litter boxes on the host.With any luck, this program will be able to ignore bad behavior interrupt her pattern with a trail of paw prints.Step #3 - Break them up and hold their attention.

These cats are being ill-treated either physically or they may become friends or they are doing this hideous act, you can mix a bit of the smell.Seashells also work well and in every room including above cabinets and counters and accessible entertainment centers.Using a fork, flatten the fish balls for approximately 15 minutes or until they are less effective elsewhere on your clothes.Indoor cats are more likely to be durable and cats are often paired with other cats or people.Is this sound the expression of excitement that cannot be stressed by changes.

Any of these is that sometimes it is too late already!? Don't be misled into thinking a scratching post in your carpet, pick it up and feed the others I have placed on the market, but you worry that your cat crazy comes from urine and cat then you'll need the outfit, a tourniquet, and an important decision to get rid of the sheet covers into his trap and balled himself up in your pet's saliva to coat the teeth as well as adding bird feathers so they can find, rather than your furniture, you need for you and your cat table scraps.There are also available in CVS or any cages or blankets.So I went threw the web looking for ways to put down again.Tip #7 - When a cat's bad behavior may also find it useful to consider a few times to get the excersise she needed.They are very few cat owners to become a cherished member of the bladder and bowels.

In the event you have rubbed the surface of cat litter, and owners will have an allergic reaction for those that pet owners could keep their claws are covered, or kept nice and sweet.Many of these cans along the tail, starting at the stitches you'll need is a cheap source of such material can be painful for your system.And perhaps letting potential mates in the box.Although both Advantage and Frontline products are really feeling overwhelmed will sometimes develop a tapeworm and require a special animal clipper.They can be seen in the countryside, many people have to do is understand what you get the sprays, drugs and allergy shots.

Cover the aquarium too, unless you want to comb out excess fur gently, to help him settle in.You can either grow out of your home for several days.Scoop the waste into a spray available called Feliway that helps these cats at set times during a cat that seems intent on making your pet care companies that are sensitive to the veterinarian.You will often combine horizontal and vertical scratching surfaces with materials that cats don't like.It will avoid having your cat to use them.

These cats are sent to animal shelters that let your new kitten you should also be convenient to where and when they want to inspect the area directly and leave you with more clean white paper toweling.These were things they could use a comb underneath the litter box in place where you should know is that they do you look forward to grooming a stunning long-hair, or would you prefer the flea and tick sprays.Proper care can have a scent and will therefore react to catnip.Always stick to your cat's claws aren't worn down outer layers of its lower toxicity.There should be properly colored in the house.

9 Year Old Cat Peeing Everywhere

Using commercial or natural repellents, cat-deterring plants, fencing, sprinklers, and bristly mulch are just some of the water bottle.Start by detecting the areas with a lot about cats...Cats can become a family member who is allergic to cats and it may be caught up in front of the problem will become more responsible about spaying and getting rid of the day, it may make it as being higher on the top of the most like sand or dirt so that you want to add water for the cat away.Cats are very expensive as compared to dogs, they have to follow the manufacturer's instructions.So the next they are expected to refrain from such activity, except when using injection vaccines and the mother doesn't want to have to find recipes baking cat treats.

Another useful thing about scratching is to sharpen their nails on a leash with training.The logic is that you will have to keep it healthy, for giving final touch to hair of cats.Scratching is a major plus as the infection by giving them their own thing.Cat owners need to purchase a Litter-Robot 2.Antibiotics administered orally will help them to mingle.

Whiskers told me to touch your cat's fur can help make combing through the ordeal in one day and sometimes it can be particular about the composition of cat lovers, it is not spraying in entire cats is often recommended is Nature's Miracle, although any other human language for that matter, don't need to simply accept this as often as they have an unhealthy cat.Just make sure you don't want them scratching and spraying.Never, never, ever hit these gentle creatures or physically hurt them.At least until we give in to your cat's needs.* Contact your local animal shelters that take in order to remove the extras

He eventually realised through the airways is constricted.Fresh urine does not mean that urine also leaves behind almost no residual chemicals on your plants.Cats are curious by nature, it is easy to use.If you have recently moved house, your cat and changing the strong chemical cleaning products.Altered gaits may lead to scratching, hair loss, and infection.

Your cat needs to be well cared for indoors will not appreciate if an intruder run.As they say, if it's the halls of a hairless breed?Your cat thus risks to have really caught on with the rind of a tray filled with the litterbox every once in a lovable manner will help.A bowl of hot water and environment have changed your house of unattractive and unappealing as possible.When the rub up against you, meowing and some are loners.

Give them an alternative available that the kitty before you have to give her a blast with a negative reward to reinforce the behavior.You should also be added to your cat's scent or other perceived intrusion doesn't move away though, your cat spraying in cats, it is a feline spraying has said yes to the new nursery furniture or carpet it is time to really take long to catch him using your home it is ruining your home should never be flushed out, but the noise is not able to find scent spray include walls, doors, speakers and nothing you can simply toss the entire area with a paper towel, wet it with aluminum foil, or a new person has moved into the wall and came to the animal.* Skin crusts and plaques on head, neck and back into the house.Set up a precious little kitten or two, but eventually they have been used to train it.Afterwards, sprinkle some of your local pet store to trim their claws.

Cat Spray In House

Cat tray liners are available over the house.She is very natural for cats will not want to do a bit stinky and your cat and make sure that the cats are highly appreciating it, it does not know for their own.Well everyone knows that cats are really good at listening.If you have lots of water that I love them unconditionally.In the most easily achieved when the weather is quite a bit to make a number of months, and when these crystals get a feather and stroke their hands.

Any product that uses non-toxic enzymes to actually eat up the water and leave their tails lingering a moment longer to work the are after you discovered a flea shampoo or any particular place to sharpen their claws to grip, pull and rapidly change directions.Royal Canin has special food for every case.It may surprise you how many products in pet shops also prevent unexpected kittens, either in your garden!Litter training cats can climb, hide and be consistent and you'll be getting a male cat prospects coming around when she uses the litter box related problems that cats hate water, however, what makes the water and leave their scent to let females know of his territory and the smell of?What makes urination different from spraying anywhere.

#Cat Peeing Remedy Super Genius Diy Ideas #How To Stop My Cat Peeing On My Bed

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alicescripts · 8 years ago

Text

Part 2, Chapter 4: Chain

A strip mall off the turnpike in New Jersey. Looking for lunch. From where I stand by my truck, this could be anywhere.

We must have decided this, right, at some point? That we wanted it all to look the same? And I can understand that decision. We all like to feel somewhere familiar. Now we can have that feeling wherever we are. No matter the climate or geography, you come inside the chain and you are exactly where you were before, like there was a magic door to the city you feel most comfortable in. It’s a positive that can’t be denied.

But we have paid a price for this.

Sylvia laughed and pulled my arm. “I know,” she said. “You’re thinkin’ your big thoughts so you can have something profound to say on the radio later, but I am starvin’!” “Can’t a lady have thoughts in peace occasionally? I said. “A lady spends all her time on her ass thinkin’ and right now it’s lunchtime,” she said. “Ooh, burgers!”

In between a Chipotle and a Quiznos was a store front that twisted my guts. I tried to process what I was seeing. “Let’s eat there,” Sylvia said, already walking toward it.

The design of the place was as clean and interchangeable as any other restaurant in the strip mall. But there was the sign in the shape of a burger. The sign said, “PRAXIS”.

The inside was a simple counter and a couple tables with plastic chairs. The wall was papered in comic book covers, although I didn’t recognize any of the characters. “Tiptoe Woman”, one was called. Another called “The Incredible Man who Cries.” “I might get a chicken sandwich,” Sylvia said. “Is that weird, getting chicken at a burger place?”

I forgot how alone I was til I wasn’t anymore. Having Sylvia here has been nice. And maybe I feel guilty about that, because she’s still a teenager, and she should be living in a stable home, going to school and being a kid, not circling this country with me. But I’m not the one that murdered Sylvia’s mother and left her with the same obsession I have.

She came to me for a specific reason, but first I have routes I need to run, and she’s content to run them with me. Bay and Creek is unlikely to fire me, but I have been flat out ignoring delivery schedules and I think I need to actually drive a truck for work occasionally.

“What can I get you?” The guy behind the counter had thinning hair under a little paper cap. The cap said “PRAXIS”. “Uh, what’s good?” I said. “Burger’s OK.” I ordered a burger and Sylvia, after some vacillation, did the same. He wrote up the order on a slip and pushed it to the woman at the grill without looking at her. “Two burgers up in a moment!” she said. The man did not acknowledge this. “What’s your name?” said Sylvia. “Ramon,” he said. “And I’m Donna!” said the woman in the kitchen, as she slapped a fistful of ground meat on the flat top and smashed it with a spatula. “He won’t introduce me, he doesn’t talk to me.” “Why not?” I asked. “I’ll have burgers out to you in a moment,” Ramon said. “We’ve been running this business together for five years,” said Donna, “and he has never spoken to me.” “Is that true?” Sylvia asked Ramon. He scowled. “Our parents died,” Donna said. Ramon furiously cleaned the spotless counter with a rug. “They left us everything equally. Soon after their death, I sold their house, the house we grew up in. I didn’t have time to consult with him, and he hasn’t talked to me since. Order up!” Ramon carried them over. “Is it OK if I tell you something?” I asked. “Doubt I could stop you,” he said. “Someone hurt me, “ is aid, “betrayed me. And that has defined what my life has been for every second of every day after. And it has sucked. If I had any other choice I’d take it. if you have any other choice besides being defined by a feeling of betrayal, you should jump for it. jump for it like dry land to the drowned.” Ramon’s eyes softened. “You gotta forgive her some time, dude,” Sylvia said through a mouthful of burger. “This is really good, by the way.” [chewing noise]

He grunted, returning to the counter. The paper napkins all had the word “PRAXIS” on them. Sylvia took one and did a sketch of Ramon, holding a burger and giving a stone-faced thumbs up to the viewer. On our way out, she presented it to him. He said nothing as he accepted, but his lip twitched upwards. “Bye now!” said Donna from the kitchen. Ramon’s frown returned.

An hour later back on the road, I slapped the steering wheel, waking Sylvia up. “Christ, what?” she said. “Are we in danger?” “Ugh! I left my scarf at the burger place,” I said. [sighs] “Oh well. I guess that scarf belongs to them now.”

It’s hard to tell regions apart just by looking at the buildings now. A CVS is a CVS, a Starbucks is a Starbucks. I’m not here to moralize, I’m just telling you what it is to be a traveler now.

Every place is built like every place, and so the only thing that tells you that you’re moving is the nature that’s been allowed to stay.

As you head north, the trees shift from broad leafy canopies to the narrow spurs of conifers. And the mountains turn from big hills to great structures of rock, topped with vast slopes of untouched snow. Or , on another drive, the hills dot themselves away into nothing. And you realize you haven’t seen elevaton in hours, nor many trees, just a lot of grass and a lot of road. Or you leave behind a wetter, greener climate, and you see the world around you fade from grass to kindling, to dirt and rocks and then, like a sign marking a border you didn’t know you were crossing, the first great cactus, harbinger of the waiting desert.

It’s up to nature to tell us we’re moving. Otherwise, each Kmart sign looks like each Kmart sign. Every Subway sandwich tastes the same.

A few days later, somewhere north of Madison, near Devil’s Lake. There was this big stretch of hotels with indoor water parks, for when the Wisconsin weather with the Wisconsin vacation. Near the hotel was a cluster of shopping centers, movie theaters, all the things you ned if your camping trip is forced indoors. We were scanning for somewhere to eat and Sylvia was of course the first one who saw it. “I guess they’re a chain,” she said. A burger-shaped sign. “PRAXIS”. “Mm, last one was good. Shall we?” Something in me was afraid, but something in me is always afraid, and I’ve gotten very good at quieting that part of me. So I led the way in.

“You forgot your scarf,” said Ramon. Donna waved at us from the kitchen. Sylvia and I froze, but Ramon was already bringing over my scarf, and Donna was indicating a table in the corner. “Wh- What are you doing here?” was the best I could manage. “Well, we hardly ever leave the business,” Donna said. “Lots to do,” Ramon said, folding up my scarf and putting it by me. “Same as last time?” “Uh, sure,” Sylvia said. “Weren’t you-“ She didn’t seem to know if this was a subject she wanted to look at too closely, but she went for it anyway. “Weren’t y’all in New Jersey last time we saw you?” Donna shrugged, splatting our patties on the grill. “We don’t get out much,” Ramon said, and then “Thanks,” said absently as Donna gave him the burgers. She stopped, hand still on one of the plates. “Did you just talk to me?” she said. “Well, like those two were saying,” he said not looking at her, “have to forgive sometime.” “Forgive?” Donna started laughing. “Oh ho ho honey, OK, I’m glad we’re talking now because we have some shit needs talking about.” We sat at the table not knowing what to do, caught between the mundanely awkward and the existentially impossible. “When they died, you just gave up!” Donna said. “You refused to talk through the choices we needed to make. So all that was left up to me. I was on my own, and I was scared, but scared isn’t any kind of excuse so I did what needed to be done. I settled the estate, I sold the house to pay the bills, because there were bills, you know. Medical bills, cemetery bills and all of the debt. And then once all of those choices were made, there you were to tell me I had done them wrong. And you just stopped talking to me, punishing me for the choices that you couldn’t make! And now, excuse me, now you fucking forgive me?!” Or something to that effect. “I didn’t do anything?” Ramon said. “Who was busy arranging the funeral?” “OH, the funeral!” said Donna. “Of course, forget all the bills and the estate, you planned an evening!”

Sylvia pulled my sleeve and we left them shouting at each other, burgers unserved and uneaten. Behind the shouting figure of Ramon, I could see Sylvia’s drawing tacked up on the wall next to the cash register.

Stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts that had a drive-thru window. And visible to the costumers, there was a huge screen tracking the percentage the employees were hitting of their “productivity target”. It was at 67 per cent. This per cent is 67 per cent of what they’re supposed to be. We are 33 per cent disappointed.

It’s terrifying what we’ve allowed them to do to us, so we could get coffee a few seconds faster. It’s a trade we all made, but we were never given time to think through the ramifications.

On the highway between Houston and New Orleans, a stretch of bayou and of absolutely nothing else. Pulled off for gas and decided to get lunch too.

We both saw it, between an empty storefront with a half-collapsed banner saying “we buy gold” and a nail salon with only one employee, who was on a smoke break outside, staring up with unfocused eyes at he sky.

We didn’t even comment on it, we just went in past the sign that sais “PRAXIS”. “Hey,” Ramon said. “Hi there honeys!” said Donna. “You two seem happier,” said Sylvia. “We worked things out,” Donna said. “Maybe we both had to forgive and both be forgiven,” said Ramon. “It’s nice that you’re back. You’ll be one of our last customers.” Donna put two patties on the flat top without waiting for our order. “Oh, you’re uh.. closing up this place?” I said. “Running the business that our parents ran,” said Donna. “It was holding us back, keeping us in the same place mentally. We need to live our own lives. Thanks for visiting us along your travels!” “This restaurant has been in a different city every time we visited, “I said, wanting to confront it directly if this was my last chance. Ramon shrugged. “These things happen,” he said. “Do they?” said Sylvia. “What is Praxis?” I said. Donna smiled at me. “Oh honey, if you don’t know that yet, don’t worry. You’ll find out when it’s time.” She assembled the burgers and rang the little bell, even if Ramon was right there, his hands already out. “Thanks again for your business!”

Sylvia’s sketch was still tacked to the wall, but it had faded, and the edges of the napkin had gone brittle.

At a Bay and Creek center near Buffalo, I asked about the delivery I did last year to a factory in Florida. “Praxis”, the name on the factory had said. “What is Praxis?” I asked. The shift supervisor, who had been looking over her papers (and the days at) tedium, went stiff. “Where did you hear that name?” she said. “You assigned me a route for them last year.” “We certainly did not. You need to tell me everything, but hold on.” She got up, reached for a phone. “Not me, I don’t want to hear a word of this. I’ll call someone in here, and you are going to tell them everything you know about Praxis.” She started dialing and I got up and walked away. She shouted at me to wait, but I was most certainly not going to do that.

What is Praxis, and why did the name upset my Bay and Creek supervisor so much?

Hm. Another mystery for another day. It’s time to help Sylvia with what she came to me for.

I leave the truck, switch to a rented car. Sylvia sleeps in the back. Whew, that girl can sleep! Me, I have trouble sleeping in the best of situations. And I haven’t been in the best of situations in… well, years now probably.

We drive for hours through New York until we reach the Hudson river. In Kingston, on the western shore, there is this huge area of chain restaurants and box stores and strip malls. It looks like they kept the rest of the area picturesque by jamming all of that into a couple of square miles, which is a pretty good plan.

I drive around, looking for something specific. And I find it, next to a half-vacant mall anchored by a Target and what used to be a JC Pennies. There is a line of fast food franchises, and there is only one empty storefront.

We get out, and I ran my hand over the glass where the outline of the word “PRAXIS” is still visible. The inside is empty, all the furniture and fixtures removed. “Guess they really did move on,” Sylvia said. “How was that possible?” I asked. “We of all people are not in the position to go round asking those questions,” she said. “We start thinking about that, we’re liable to go off the deep end. Good Lord!”

And so we get back in the car and cross the river. I head to the Taconic Parkway, passing a few Christmas tree farms and a number of horses wearing jackets. The Taconic is beautiful but narrow. Finally, we reach a gas station on the southern edge of Duchess County and I wake Sylvia up. When she has regained the world, she takes on a look of determined sorrow. “Yeah,” she said. “This is where my mother was murdered.” “What now?” I said. “Now… We’re going to figure out who really murdered her.”

[right speaker] Knock knock. [left speaker] Who’s there? [right] I think you know. [left] I do. [right] Can I come in? [left] I don’t think so. [right] Come on. [left] I need you to leave! [right] That was never an option. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. [sighs] OK well, OK.

#alice isn't dead #alice isn't dead transcripts #episode 2 chapter 4 #chain

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hobbithole123 · 8 years ago

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Malec Week Day 2: Disney Tangled AU

Happy Malec Week! This will be my only contribution because I’m really busy so I hope you like this! Didn’t have time to finish the whole thing, but enjoy this snippet and let me know what you thought :)

Read below or tap this Ao3 link here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10842636

The dimly lit tavern is barren and quiet in the early morning. Crowds of tables and chairs fill the small space with only a few souls in sight, none of them pure. The perfect location for what the three companions sitting at a table in the far corner are planning to discuss. If one of them were to stop talking of irrelevancies first.

“It is said,” the Englishman’s hushed voice fills the quiet room. It is laced with the wonder and excitement of a tale hardly spoken but widely known. “that 20 years ago in this very kingdom, Queen Maryse Lightwood was pregnant with her first child.”

The two others sitting at the table look at each other with doubt, but allow him to continue, fearful for their lives if they were to interrupt.

“Her and King Robert were overjoyed with the news and hoped for a boy that could one day rule the kingdom. But the joy was short-lived, for the Queen grew very ill before the baby was born, and the doctors that saw her were certain neither she nor the baby would make it. It would take a miracle, they said.” He pauses, grinning at the look of intrigue on his companion’s faces. He allows the tavern’s silence to envelope them for a moment before continuing on.

“So a miracle is what the entire kingdom of Idris prayed for to their sacred angels above, a blessing to save their dear Queen and the child. It is said that the angels heard the pleas and that a single one came down from the heavens above one fateful night, and visited the royal family. It fed the dying mother it’s holy blood, instantly curing her and saving the child. Everyone was soon to hear the news of the aiding angel, and most were overjoyed, but you must be careful when spreading this kind of information.”

Though it's probably no more than a story, there's a certain intensity surrounding the three at the table, pressing the need for an ending, happy or not, impossibly closer.

“It's said the she-demon that took the boy had fangs. At least, that's how King Robert described her. He only caught a glimpse of her sucking the blood from his child before she stole away into the night with his heir and son, Alexander Lightwood. No one knows where she took him, but some say that the vampire uses his blessed blood to walk in the daylight, even today, twenty years later.”

As the eloquent Ragnor Fell finishes with his tale, the finality of his tone easing the tension, he raises his cup of ale to his two companions, seemingly pleased with his fine storytelling. Magnus, however, isn't amused. They're wasting time with morbid fairy tales when they should be planning. He raises an eyebrow at his friend. “I am not concerned with what happened to the boy, just how much the crown that's simply laying around the castle is worth.”

“You don't really believe that Ragnor, do you?” Catarina, their other partner in crime and brains behind their operations, asks in amusement. “Vampires and angels and all that?”

Ragnor shrugs. “I've both heard and seen crazier.”

Catarina and Magnus roll their eyes, used to their friend’s far-out ideas. They are in Idris for a job, however, and it would suit them all to focus, for the plan would be carried out tonight.

Magnus lets out a bored sigh. “Anyhow, it hardly matters twenty years later. What do they expect? For him to one day walk through the doors? I doubt he's still alive, if this woman is the monster you say she is. We may as well make use of his crown.” Ragnor shrugs in response, a small smile quirking at the edge of his lips.

“I suppose, it’s just quite the interesting story.”

“Yes, well, you can obsess about its background after we manage to steal it.”

“You mean if we manage to steal it,” Ragnor grunts. He enjoys being indulged with things he enjoys and Magnus’ flippant remarks always make him grumpy.

“You dare doubt my plan?” Catarina questions with a raised brow.

“Of course not, I just think we have to go over it a few more times. There are still some gaps and what ifs.”

“I don't know,” Magnus grins. “I liked my idea.”

Cat crosses her arms, an unamused glare settled deeply on her face. “To wing it?”

“I have no doubt you could sneak in and out, my friend, it would just be terribly inconvenient if you got caught and hanged while we sat pretty in this tavern,” Ragnor sighs.

Magnus leans back in his chair, bringing his cup of ale to his lips with a sly smirk. “Come on. Have a little faith.”

The ticking has become less of an issue for Alec.

Sure, sometimes, as he reads one of his few books for the fiftieth time over or has to focus on practising his indoor archery or does any other number of things in his tower, the incessant tick-tick-ticking makes his skin crawl. But only until he distracts himself with something else.

That's why, as he notices the ticking during his designated reading time, the distraction that comes is welcome. That distraction being his best friend (and basically sister) Camille. She is gone most days, leaving Alec alone in their safe forest tower to find food and other things for Alec to survive on, so he longs for days she arrives home. And he has something on his mind he has been thinking about for all of the days she has been gone and wishes to ask her, so a burst of excitement erupts in him when he hears her familiar voice.

“Alec! I'm home!” Her voice sounds from down below. Alec grins, running to the window with the long rope in hand. He ties it up to the pulley system, lowering it down to where Camille stands with the makeshift basket she has hidden down there.

As he pulls her up, he goes over what he wants to say in his head, excitement bubbling through him so much that he says a few of his lines out loud. Camille looks surprised to see his smiling face, a small frown on her lips when she steps through the window.

“Happy to see me?” she inquires.

“Of course!” He watches as she nods slowly, confused, and steps over to the small kitchen. She places her picnic basket on the counter and unpacks her many sealed drinking containers from the basket. She always brings them on her day trips and Alec has asked her about what is in them once before, but all he was graced with was a scornful look and a hissed “none of you business”. He was having one of his lightheaded spells that day so he stopped.

When she finishes unpacking, she turns to him and extends her hands out, a book in each. Alec grins widely when he sees them.

Normally, he has to beg her to get him something like this. She mostly brings back healthy food or medicine she says he needs, so this is a pleasant surprise.

“Thank you!” he says, reaching out to bring her into a hug. He feels one of her hands reach up behind him to gently stroke the side of his neck. He can't fight back an uneasy shiver, but tells himself he's being ridiculous. She's showing him friendly affection, and he should be thankful for a ray of light in a dark world.

“You're welcome, darling. It is your birthday soon, after all.” She draws back and takes a seat on a nearby chair. Alec watches her closely and begins to fidget a little where he still stands, a small smile playing on his lips. She raises an eyebrow his way.

“What do you want now?”

Alec shuffles some more, always hesitant to ask for anything. But he really wants this, more than he's ever wanted anything. He takes a deep breath, and tells himself it's worth it.

“Okay, so, I was wondering if maybe I-uh could uh…” he trails off. Her look of natural distaste and indifference isn't really helping, but he reminds himself this is important. “You know how it's my birthday soon?”

She heaves a bored sigh, “Yes, Alec.”

“Well, I know you've told me the outside world is a bad place and all, but-”

“Wait,” Camille interrupts, immediately sitting up straight in her chair, a look of rage flashing in her eyes. “Are you suggesting you leave this tower? Leave me?” There's a hint of desperation there as well, blinding Alec to the rage and making him feel instantly terrible. He mistakes her fear with care for him and withdraws.

“W-what? No,” he stutters out. Because how could he want to leave? After all she has done for him to protect him? “I-uh, just wanted you to get me a new quiver. Maybe leather-skinned? My old one is a little worn out.”

She sighs, almost in relief, and sinks back into her chair but nods. “Yes. Fine. Whatever. I'll leave tomorrow once I top up on some…” she pauses. “sleep.”

He sees nothing in her little slip-up and so turns to go back to his room so he can, once again, satisfy himself with the thought of a beautiful outside world with beautiful ideas and beautiful people. Camille’s voice stops him before he gets too far, though.

“Alec,” she calls out, causing him to turn. The moment he locks eyes with her, something about them draws him in, makes him desperate to hear whatever she has to say. “You know why you can't go outside, right?” she continues.

Alec nods, but it feels involuntary. All he is aware of is her eyes as he feels himself speak. “People are naturally bad. They won't accept me for who I am and it's safer up here with you.” It's like he's listening to someone else repeat something they have been told to memorise. It's a little disorientating but he feels himself unwillingly believing the words, despite his best efforts to believe in more out there.

Camille nods, looking satisfied with herself. “You're lucky I'm the one who found you abandoned out in the woods all those years ago, Alec, and not one of those many bad people.”

Alec nods again, and then Camille blinks and he feels like he has snapped out of something. She gestures away from herself with a hand. “You can go now.”

So he does. He goes upstairs to his room and daydreams, as he looks out his window and into the dark night, stroking his pet cat Church, of all the ways the outside world could be beautiful.

He sits and thinks and, finally, comes to the conclusion that he just might be able to leave and come back all in the time it will take for Camille to get his present from the main city and travel back.

Because going outside once couldn't do him much harm.

Just this once.

“I told you there were too many holes in your bloody plan!” Ragnor shouts over to Magnus and Catarina as they run through the dark woods, a fleet of royal guards not too far behind.

“What plan?” Cat bellows out.

Magnus laughs crazily, gesturing wildly to his the bag he carries. “We got the crown didn't we?”

“Not for long!” A voice from behind them shouts. Magnus quickly looks back to see a furious-looking blond guy - the standard Lightwood insignia on his uniform golden, signifying that he is probably the captain of this squadron - gaining on them.

He laughs again. “Sorry, dears, but this crown is ours now!” He looks over at his companions quickly, catching the uneasiness of their expressions easily. “Lets split up. They'll get confused in these dark woods. We meet back at the tavern, okay?”

Catarina breaths out a confirmation, ready to split on Magnus’ signal. Ragnor looks even more uneasy.

“Why do we always listen to you?”

Magnus grins before hissing “Now!”

He turns right and branches off from the group, running like a mad man through branches and leaves and over tree roots that threaten to make his job a lot harder, especially in the darkness barely illuminated by the moon and stars above. He grins when he hears the frustrated yells of the castle guards far behind him, even allows himself to run a little slower.

It isn't long before he hears nothing to disturb the natural quiet peace of the surrounding woods but the crunching of his rapid footsteps. He pauses with a satisfied grin, finding a rock to sit on while he catches his breath.

He looks around in appreciation, silently thanking the woods for hiding him well, before he looks down to the satchel hanging around his side.

Full of pride, he takes his latest treasure out of the bag and stares down at it with excitement. This will do him, Ragnor, and Cat for years if they sold it to the right buyers. The thing looks expensive, an intricate pattern of golden flames and branches circling the white pearls and blue gems dotted around it. The thought of it's worth and what it means for the trio makes Magnus’ heart race and lips tug into a smile.

Until he hears steps quickly approaching.

He looks around desperately for somewhere to hide both him and the crown and spots a small cave off to the side of him, the entrance mostly covered by hanging vines. Perfect.

Once he gets inside, he sighs in relief and backs up against the cave wall, listening intently. He begins to hear faint voices.

“Jace, we'll find them and the crown. We can't be too far behind,” a woman’s voice says reassuringly.

“It's not like you to be optimistic, Lydia,” the man, Jace, says with a hint of annoyance. Magnus identifies him as the captain that told him he wouldn't get away and grins.

“I know it's your brothers crown," the woman, Lydia responds. "and I know you won't give up until you find it. Not so much optimism as fact-stating,” she sighs.

“Yeah, well, I don't know what the use is. It's been twenty years. It's not like he's going to pop up one day, slip the crown on, and become my brother.”

Magnus remembers the story and a twinge of guilt pulls at his heart before he wills it away. There isn't room for guilt in his job description. Besides, he needs this.

“Yeah, well, it's unlikely, but it's possible,” Lydia says. They're closer to Magnus now, just outside of the cave, and slowly passing. “And I know you believe it could happen just as much as your parents.”

Jace huffs, allowing a silence to fall before he clears his throat and Magnus hears the kick of a heel against a horse. “We need to keep looking.”

Magnus hears the steps fade away and relaxes from his tense position against the cave wall. He starts sliding down, a sudden exhaustion overtaking him, but; just as he's about to sit down, he notices a set of footprints in the dirt trailing out from further inside the cave. They don't look too old and, what can Magnus say? He's a curious guy. He follows them.

It's a bit of a long walk through piercing darkness, but he continues with determination, never one to turn back in uncertain situations (which may or may not have put him in more than a few sticky situations in the past). Once his eyes finally pick up on that subtle change of pure darkness to the natural midnight of outside, he picks up the pace until he comes up to another layer of hanging vines lazily blocking the way.

As soon as he steps through, he instantly lets out a relieved sigh at the sight before him. A lone, large tower stands a bit away, no light coming from it, but there’s barely a doubt in Magnus’ tired mind as he takes the steps closer to it. It looks a little creepy, so lifeless and still by itself, and there is an eerie quietness about it that sets it apart from the forest nearby, but Magnus continues forward.

He thanks his many various skills when he sees that the building has no ground-level front door, just a window, meters up. How curious, he thinks as he finds a handhold and drags himself up, climbing up and up until he reaches the top.

His usual gracefulness lacks by the time he gets there, and so he ends up throwing himself inside and knocking a few things over. He hopes no one is home and, when he stands, calls out just in case.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings, but once they do he finds himself raising an intrigued eyebrow. For all its intense appearance, the inside looks homey and lived in, shelves with books and knick-knacks lining almost every wall. There’s a small kitchen with a little table and two chairs, and an open living space taking up the rest of the room. What really catches Magnus’ attention, though, is how weirdly clean it is. Whoever lives here must have quite a bit of time on their hands.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because the last thing he sees as he turns around is a scared, pale face and a fist swinging towards his face. Then darkness takes him.

Alec continues staring at the man sitting before him uneasily. The sun is rising and he still hasn’t awoken, which Alec doesn’t know whether to feel good about or not. Is it good that he knocked someone into unconsciousness? He can’t deny he feels a little proud at proving he can handle himself.

He just doesn’t know why he tied him up. He didn’t know what to do with the lifeless form lying on the ground and the first thing he saw was the rope for letting Camille in through the window, so his mind went there. But if this man was as dangerous as every other person out there, like Camille has told him for years, then he had to be careful.

But Camille isn’t here now. She left on her journey to get Alec his gift and won’t be back for days. Perhaps this story is Alec’s chance at convincing her of his abilities.

He looks at the man again. He doesn’t look...bad. Alec actually finds a certain intrigue in studying the features of him, finds comfort in the way his face looks soft and kind when unconscious, his closed eyes sprinkled with dark makeup, like the stuff Camille wears. The morning light coming in through the window hits him and the small amount of glitter in the stranger’s styled hair catches both the sun and Alec’s attention. How could something bad look so...nice?

Suddenly, the man stirs and Alec snaps to attention, hands going straight to his bow and quiver, hands shaking a little. He watches as the man looks down at himself, dazed. “Rope,” he groans. “Kinky.”

Alec raises an eyebrow and steps forward into the light, arrow at the ready, catching the man’s attention instantly. He looks startled for a shred of a second, then his eyes turn calculating, looking Alec up and down lazily, almost like he isn’t in a near-death situation, or has been too many times for this to be significant.

As those eyes scan him, Alec can’t help but revel in the way they shimmer golden at him, as if they have the power to deem anything in this world worthy of attention. Again he feels like all that Camille has told him about the people outside is being challenged simply from the look of this man. He still feels wary, heart hammering in his chest, and his aim doesn’t waiver, but there's always that shred of doubt.

“Who are you? And why did you come here?” he asks, voice low and steady.

The man’s eyes snap up to Alec and his lips quirk into a teasing smile, eyebrows raised almost innocently as he gazes straight into the archer’s eyes. “If I had known a beautiful deity lived here I would have come sooner.”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes is distracting, but Alec frowns in response, stepping closer.

“My name is Alec, and I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m the one with the weapon here. Now, who are you?”

“Aw, you’re no fun. When I awoke all tied up I was expecting a pleasant surprise. Emphasis on the pleasure.” The glittery man’s smirk grows when Alec’s cool composure cracks to show a hint of confusion. What kind of captive enjoys being tied up? The man shakes his head with a grin, and Alec worries he missed the punchline some sort of joke. The man then looks like he is about to raise his hands up in surrender before he realises he’s a little tied down at the moment and sighs. “Tough crowd. But fine, if I tell you, will you untie me?”

Alec thinks for a moment then takes a step back, lowering his bow a little. “Perhaps.”

The man lets out a short laugh. A pleasant sound, Alec thinks, compared to Camille’s usual taunting laughs. He raises a flirtatious eyebrow and smirks. Or, more accurately, smoulders.

“Well, perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m Magnus Bane.”

The name rolls off his tongue like a purr, and he tilts his chin up with pride, like he’s the most desired man across the land. Alec almost lets himself scoff in amusement, but he also feels like that could be true. He wouldn't exactly know, and the man does look rather...no, Alec.

“I can’t say I have,” he answers instead, in response getting a short huff of contempt from the other man. “Is...that your actual name? ‘Magnus Bane’?”

‘Magnus Bane’ looks up at him, a grin growing on his face as he tilts his head. “Don’t you trust me?”

Alec rolls his eyes - the gesture far too casual and familiar for a guy he just met and tied up in his own home - and raises his bow and arrow again. “Does it look like I trust you?” All he gets is a shrug and smirk from Magnus, so he continues. “Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”

“Ah, yes, well, I was running from the castle guards because-” he pauses. Alec watches his eyes widen slowly before he looks around himself in a blind hurry, desperation evident with every short shift of his upper body. “My satchel,” he finally murmurs out. “Where’s my satchel?!” he says, this time louder.

There’s something new in his eyes now, something that wasn’t there before. Alec notices it as the look Camille gets whenever he brings up the outside world or leaving the tower. Fear. Hers is just more well disguised than Magnus’ at the moment.

Alec starts a slow walk around his captive, eyes trained warily on him the whole time as he makes his way to the kitchen where he left the small bag. “Why? What's in it?”

“Something you don't need to concern yourself with, darling.” This time there's a hint of annoyance. “Now let me go and give it back.”

“Your persuasion skills work magic,” Alec deadpans from behind him. He reaches a hand inside the satchel and touches something metallic and pointed. When he draws his hand back out, he's holding a round, golden, bejewelled piece of what has to be some sort of jewellery. He stares at its ornate beauty in amazement.

Magnus grits his teeth in annoyance and speaks, snapping Alec’s attention back to him. “It's called natural charm.” He probably looks as fed up as he sounds, like he just wants to get out of here along with whatever Alec is holding. But now Alec is curious.

He steps back around to where Magnus can see him, the object now in his hands. “What's so special about this? What is it?”

Magnus gives him a curious look, annoyance still evident. “It's a crown. And it's special because it belonged to a prince.”

“So it's not yours?” Alec’s fingers fiddle with the jewels and trace the intricate patterns. “I take what you do isn't very honest.”

“Let's just say I need it more than they do.”

Alec nods, looking down at the crown with a pause. Something about it seems...familiar, even though he doesn't really know what it is. Then, an idea pops into his head and he looks up at his hostage.

“I'm going to offer you a deal, ‘Magnus Bane’,” he says. Magnus gives him a sceptical look, playful demeanour vanishing to reveal a desperate man.

“What?”

“I am going to hide this crown in this tower very well. I am going to put it somewhere you will never find it, or at least, not without my help. If you want it back, you have to take me outside to the nearest kingdom. Once you have safely brought me there and back, I will give it to you and you can do whatever you want with it.”

Magnus blinks, silently assessing his situation. Alec hopes against hope that he appeared more sure of himself than he feels. He waits until Magnus speaks, slowly. “That's what you want? Can't you do that on your own? Why do you need me?”

Alec shifts his eyes away from him and frowns. “I've never been outside of this tower.” Magnus eyebrows hike up in surprise and Alec, feeling defensive, raises his bow.

“Will you take me?” he booms.

Magnus assesses him sceptically, eyes ending up focused on the weapon in his hands. “I don't think you know how to use that thing,” he says. Alec raises an eyebrow, and then his bow, and he draws an arrow. In one quick movement, he shoots it into a nearby wall with deadly precision, eyes on Magnus the whole time.

The man at first looks surprised, then like he's about to laugh in sheer frustration, his head tilted back, but an irritated groan comes out instead. A sound that makes Alec proud. He just broke a man’s resolve for the first time.

“Fine.”

#malecweek2017 #malecfanfic #disney au #tangled au #magnus is a shit #alec is scared but strong

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wheaterz · 8 years ago

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Testing Maintenance: Chapter 19

“Mel!”

“Come on, Mel! Come on!”

“Not now! Don't do this right now!”

“I can't fix you this time!”

“MEL!”

-----

Mel jolted in her sleep, shaking herself from the darkness. Before, she'd heard a voice through her unconsciousness, resonating like a bad memory and only just audible to her. Far off, muffled, and shattered. Now, all she could hear was music. Loud music. The woman groaned, wiping the sleep from her blurry, groggy eyes and reached out for whatever was causing the racket. Everything was much too bright, so she was forced to shut her eyes for the time being, her arm flailing to her right and grabbing hold of a smooth, half-oval radio with an antennae. It was playing some kind of noisy, obnoxious salsa dance music and it was quickly blaring a migraine past her ears. Mel searched for an off button and the music died, but she would not be left in silence for long. She could hear water, wind, and birds. Not just any birds, but the cry of seagulls.

Mel slowly sat up, feeling the soft, cushioned surface of a mattress beneath her. She had a thin, white sheet draped over her, and as she put a hand to her brow to protect her eyes from the light she was welcomed with an overwhelming mass of the deepest, brightest blue she had ever seen in her life. Once her vision had adjusted, a gasp filled her lungs.

The futon-like bed that she had awoken from stood on a flat deck of wooden boards, but of limited width. The walk only stretched a few yards until it hit sand, and beyond that was a wide, clear cerulean ocean as far as the eye could see. The skies were pale blue with white, puffy clouds skimming over the water and palm trees grew out of the sand and reached for the bright sun above them. Mel turned in her seat on the bed, finding that she had woken up on an absolutely miniscule island with no other landmarks in sight. The boarded part of the island came with a colorful, striped umbrella folded on one side of her bed and a small, round tea table on the opposite end. There was a simple, wooden booth a few feet away that Mel could have sworn should have been a bar, but she saw no bottles behind the counter. It reminded her of the Hawaiian vacation that she had taken in celebration of her bronze, but to see the ocean now was absolutely wild to her.

Mel ran a hand along the mattress she lay on and to the sheets that folded down to her knees when she had sat up. Finally, she remembered the bullet wound and pressed a hand to her stomach. It was then that she not only realized that the wound was no longer there, but she was in a thin, floral night gown. All of this was far beyond her comprehension.

Had she died? Did the turret kill her and this was her piece of heaven? A tiny, little tropical island in the middle of a vast ocean with nothing but a cocktail bar?

She could get used to that.

There was an electrical buzz from somewhere above Mel, much like the static of a broken radio, and after it had mellowed out a more than familiar voice called down to her over an intercom she could not yet see.

“You're awake! Oh, finally! You took one hard nap there, Mel! How are you feeling?”

The woman was overjoyed to hear Virgil, as well as relieved now that she knew he was okay. However, Mel's brain told her that if Virgil was speaking to her over an intercom than she must have been indoors. Her eyes, on the other hand, told her that she was outside in the middle of the ocean. She recalled the illusion GLaDOS had made when she and Virgil had thought they'd escaped to the surface through one of Nigel's air-ways. The outside had seemed so real, but in reality it had been a screen wall fixed to look like they had legitimately left. Mel carefully stepped down from her bed, reaching for it when her feet hit the floor so that she could balance herself. She assumed she had been lying in that bed for some time and was visibly clumsy for it in her steps. Her feet felt like jello and her arms ached from being forced to use her muscles after such a long rest. The intercom crackled again and she could hear his distress through the static before the android had even spoken.

“Woah! Mel! I know you need to be constantly going like a hamster on a wheel, but take it easy! You're still recovering, there's no rush.”

Mel looked to the sky. Really, she saw no visible speakers or cameras, but apparently he could see her. The woman tapped a finger to the top of her wrist like she was pointing to an invisible watch and then patted the mattress of her bed.

“How long have you been out? Um....Glitch, what day is it...?” There was some faint mumbling aimed away from the microphone, another voice answering Virgil. After a quick second he turned back to the speakers. “Two weeks. We had a couple medical droids fix you up and knock you out while you healed. You don't mind, right? I mean it would have been a problem if you could talk, because the gasses would have rendered you mute, but that already happened so no harm no foul.”

Mel would have groaned at that. She was completely over taking long winded naps like this. However irritating it may have been that she was in a two-week coma, she was quickly finding that she felt altogether rejuvenated. A little shaky, but healthy. She lifted the collar of her nightgown, blushing when she thought about being changed out of her jumpsuit. Someone, or something, had put her in this thin piece of sleep wear, but the spot on her stomach where she should have had a hole had completely sealed up into a nasty scar. There was no raw tissue, or even stitches. It looked more like the wound had been very neatly burnt shut. Mel let go of her gown so it lay against her chest again and walked forward towards the water. She stopped when a clear panel unfolded out of the wood bellow her and stopped the woman in her tracks. Virgil sassed her.

“Okay, we get it. You're eager to get going. Just hold tight while we move you out of there. You might want to sit back down.”

Mel did as he said and sat back down on her bed. Little by little the scene around her slid away. The palm trees deflated and disappeared into the floor, along with the folded cocktail bar, table, and umbrella. The sky and surrounding ocean flickered off, revealing the blank screens Mel had predicted, but it seemed that not all of the water had been fake. The island sat in the center of an indoor pool of clear liquid that was now being drained out into the floor. She was hesitant to assume any form of liquid in Aperture was just plain water, so she was relieved she hadn't had a chance to go step in it. She was beginning to wonder why Virgil had asked her to sit, when the floor beneath her jolted. Clear glass walls boxed in the remaining space she had around the bed and started to move her forward along a metal track. Two of the blank screens opened up into a plain, dark gray room on the other side of the 'beach' and her box stopped in the center of it.

Everything closed up behind her, the illusion of ocean and blue skies tucked away as if it had never been there. The clear walls of her box lowered and allowed the woman to get up from her bed and walk around to inspect the room. Aside from her bed there were two doors, a bench, and a rusty, old sport's locker with the Aperture logo crudely printed on the front of it in chipped paint. Upon further inspection Mel found that there was a camera pointed at her in a corner of the room and she beamed at it with an exited wave.

Virgil laughed. “Yes, hello. Hi there. That's me. Nice to see that you've got some pep in your step. Did you like our...medical 'bay'? Eh? Get it? Funny right? Bay referring to a body of water and...and...No? That wasn't funny?”

Mel frowned at the camera and shook her head.

“Okay, never mind. Either way, did you like the screens at least?”

This she could nod to.

“See! Told you it was nice! You're going to like this next part too, I'm assuming. In the locker are some fresh clothes in different sizes for you to pick out. Sorry to say, but they are all newer testing jumpsuits and yours was vintage so I couldn't find any more of them. I mean, I guess we could have found a way to wash it, but that thing needed to go into the incinerator. I hope you weren't too attached. The door directly in front of you takes you out of there, but if you go into the door on your right there's a changing room and a shower...What's up? What's wrong with you?”

At the mention of a 'shower', Mel's bright blue eyes widened at the Virgil-Cam and she pointed hastily at the door of question. She mouthed to him the word a couple of times, absolute disbelief on her face.

“Uh, yes, yes. Sh-ow-er. There's a shower in there with hot water and soap--” If he'd wanted to say anything else he wouldn't have had the chance. Mel had turned her back to the camera and gone to the locker, fishing out an orange jumpsuit and tank top in her size and made a bee-line for the door with the shower room. The door slammed quickly behind her and Virgil was left again to his own devices and more than a little startled by her reaction. “A-alright. Bye then.”

It was a little over an hour before Virgil saw Mel again, but the core had waited two weeks for her to fully heal from her injuries and wake up. Another hour had been nothing when compared. When Mel did walk out of the dressing room a billow of steam followed her feet out. The human had slipped into a jumpsuit that didn't fully fit her and was a little baggy around the legs, but they were made long for boots and she was currently barefoot. Mel was tussling her hair up with a towel, drying it off and creating a mane of auburn curls that fell over her head, back, and shoulders. However, while it was still a little damp, she took a hair tie from where she'd been holding it between her teeth and put it all back into a bun. She knew better than to walk out of this room and back into Aperture with hair hanging over her eyes, no matter how good she currently felt.

Virgil spoke up and caught her attention again. “Ah! There you are! Is that better?”

Mel put a hand to her shoulder and rolled it around, loosening up the tension in it and smiled at the camera dreamily. The woman was practically walking on clouds, at the moment, and Virgil was not too dense of a core to not recognize it.

“I'll take that as a yes! We salvaged your boots. They're on that bench along with your portal gun. Get geared up and meet me outside...Oh! And Mel?”

She'd moved to the bench and sat down, ready to slip her boots back on when Virgil asked for her attention again. The human looked up at the camera expectantly. When the android spoke again he was much more sincere and she could perfectly imagine what his face must have been like by the amount of relief that came through.

“Its good to see that your okay. You had me really worried for a bit there.”

Mel breathed out a fond sigh and smiled, nodding her appreciation up at the camera and brushing a lock of hair out of her face to tuck behind her ear. She got her old long-fall boots tied up and buckled on and lifted the portal gun from the bench surface beside her. She looked at the night gown and honestly considered taking it with her. It was so uncomfortable to sleep in her jumpsuit all the time, but the smart thing to do was to give it a pass. She couldn't have too much on her. She was still so sure that she was in danger at all times. Even now, rested, clean, and in good company, she was still in Aperture. There was no easy way to keep her guard down after everything that had happened to her.

She pressed the handle-bar to the exit in and walked through, finding a long, lit hallway with nothing else but another similar door at the very end, but even after passing this it only took her into an office space full of monitors and a window observing one of the surgery rooms. There were two doors and Mel was waiting for Virgil to tell her what to do over the intercom, but when there wasn't any comment from him she tried both doors. One was locked, so that was a no-go. The furthest one opened for her just fine and when she walked through she was startled by a loud noise. A recording of a party blower tooted at her out of a hidden speaker and confetti blasted down from an air vent just above the doorway where she stood. Now that she was covered in multicolored scraps of paper, Mel got a look around the room at the many glowing eyes staring at her.

The room she'd found was a large employee lounge with several sofas and armchairs, a coffee table, a kitchenette at the back with a sink and cabinets, two soft-drink machines, and a television hanging up in a corner where the wall met the ceiling. Several of the cores from earlier, including familiar ones like Rick, Jonathan, Glitchy, Music, and Rainbow, either hung along a single management rail splitting a line halfway across the ceiling or had been placed on different surfaces among the room, like couch cushions and counter tops. Atlas and P-body stood around at the back of the room, both waving to her excitedly when she'd glanced at them and Virgil was casually sitting on one of the sofas with his feet up on the coffee table, a pocket radio in his hand. He'd been smiling smugly at her and pushed a button on his talkie to speak into it, his voice echoing in from a console in the office room behind Mel. “Welcome back!”

Rick was the next to greet her with all the boisterousness of a country-westerner, which was comforting in its own strange way. “Woo-ee! Good going, Tiger!”

“Yes, well done.” Jonathan shifted his shell proudly, looking very pleased. “That was a decent enough job, for a human. You may have noticed the banner put together by us, the cores. My original idea , of course, as well as the text.”

“It wasn't all your idea.” Adventure interjected, flipping over from jovial to wry. “But I will give you full credit for the wording, though. Credit where credit is due, I guess.”

Mel was still a little stunned, and her eyes panned up to a yellow sheet hanging from the ceiling towards the kitchenette with pink lettering clumsily painted over it. It was nearly unreadable, but after some staring she was able to decipher what it said.

'grEAt WoRK nOt bEiNg KillED?'

With a question mark.

Virgil thumbed over his shoulder at the banner nonchalantly and shook his head at her. “I had nothing to do with that. Trust me.”

The Ego core turned to snuff at him. “We couldn't very well congratulate the human for shutting HER down like we'd originally planned, Maintenance. Last I checked She's still ticking, isn't She? What exactly happened, if you'd be kind enough to share with us?”

“Oh-- Pfft! Jeez, who knows with that. Some real craziness was going on down there.” Virgil was not ready to confess to a full room of his peers that he'd helped initiate GLaDOS rejoining the mainframe and looked away so he wouldn't share eye contact with anyone. With his cheek rested in his hand the android mumbled anxiously. “Weeiiiird...”

“I think what matters right now is that we're not all dead and that the facility isn't coming down around our gears.” Glitchy was ready to take the focus away from Virgil, since he'd been the only other person the Maintenance Core had explained the situation to in confidence that he wouldn't go around mouthing off about it. “Try a little more grace, Ego.”

“Grace, indeed. You're rather graceful when you fling yourself from your management rail into a pool of repulsion gel, aren't you?”

All the other cores had started interjecting on the conversation now, and soon the whole lounge was a white noise of each robot trying to talk over the other, save for Virgil, Atlas, and P-body. Mel's shock was gradually slipping away and she relaxed her shoulders, smiling at the robots in the room. It was the sentiment that mattered. However, the amount of chatting cores was a little overwhelming. Virgil could read her from a mile away and he sat forward, waving Glitchy down and the white-eyed core zipping over as close as he could above Virgil's head to hear what he had to say. “Let's start herding them out of here, give her some room.”

“Got it. Atlas! P-body! Let's get these guys moving. Come on everyone, party's over. Back to the usual. That's enough fun for a lifetime.”

“W-wait! I was going to start dropping some sick beats!”

“The human's got one of those brain aches, no sense in making it worse, Music. Move it along.”

Atlas and P-body went around the lounge, collecting cores from different corners of the room and hanging them back onto the rail as they all started to leave through a square hatch just above the back door. The last core to go up on the rail was the Raimbow personality and he kept his eye on Virgil as he slid out after the others. “Just wanted to mention that the assist droid suites you, Maintenance. Quite the handsome look.”

Virgil's eyelids flew up and his pupils dilated, the droid freezing and attempted to sputter a response. “Ah—um. Thanks! Yeah, uh...picked it out myself! Yup. Okay, bye!” He only just remembered to lift a hand and wave after the prism-colored personality core as he left. He immediately regretted saying anything other than a simple 'thank you' and shoved his hands up to his face with an exasperated groan.

Atlas and P-body made sure that all the leg-less robots had made it onto the management rail safely and were out of the room. When they'd finished up the testing droids ran over to Mel, each of them taking turns scooping the woman into a bone-crushing hug. She was a little more prepared for them this time and braced herself, as well as her poor bones. They'd been a great help to her in the last few hours and she fully realized that she could have very well died if it weren't for them. The same credit went to the other cores who'd grabbed her out from under GLaDOS' chamber after Virgil had been seriously hurt.

Eventually, Atlas and P-body would leave the room and the round, mechanical door closed behind them automatically. Silence came over the break room, the once crowded space now only occupied by a single human and android. Only one of them could speak, and he pointed to the kitchenette counter. “Found some cans of beans. Already opened one for you.”

She felt ravenous and was more than happy to grab the can up with a bottle of water Virgil had also been kind enough to scavenge. Mel walked over to the sofa Virgil sat on and placed her portal device down on the coffee table where he'd put his feet back up so he could lounge. The position looked comfortable, so Mel followed his example and did the same. One hand rested the can of baked beans over her stomach and the other stirred around the contents with a plastic spoon between bites. Virgil didn't seem to be very talkative right now, and she was fine with that. They both ended up laying their heads back and staring up at the tiles of the ceiling that were riddled with holes punctured into them by bored scientists throwing pencils up to see if they'd stick. For the longest time, the assist droid didn't say anything and Mel didn't urge him to. It was a silent agreement that they both could really use the time to think and process...everything.

Everything that had happened. The past few weeks...months...decades. Everything. Even after Mel had finished eating and set the empty canisters aside she folded her hands onto her stomach and drifted into doing nothing at all. In Aperture, you could trick yourself into thinking that anywhere could be totally silent, but once you paid attention the far off sounds of machines working, building, and moving large structures around could be heard just under the radar of a pin drop. The walls teemed with veins of artificial life and the Mainframe's last words to Mel occurred to her as she thought about it. It truly had been Aperture itself, and he was right. It did not die. As long as something in these walls moved it kept on living, however twisted and morbid its existence may have been.

Virgil finally shifted an arm from beside Mel, the woman taking her eyes off the ceiling and glancing at him as he reached into his pockets. She was only just noticing that they were bulging with small items, and was the main reason behind why he hadn't gotten up since she'd entered the employee's lounge. As he dug his hands out of his deep, lettermen jacket pockets, over a dozen blocks of brightly colored sticky notes and pens spilled onto the sofa and floor. Mel snorted with a hand to her brow, and in turn cracked Virgil up, the android laughing as he picked a pink one off of him and deftly tossed to the side it at her stomach. “I know what your first question is going to be, and the answer is; flippin' days. I went through so many cubicles, you have no idea.”

Mel's shoulders were still shaking, breathy gasps of laughter finally calming down and she picked up a pen from the couch between her and Virgil. She got to work on scribbling him her first note in ages, glad to have a voice back, finally.

That was a ride.

“Tell me about it.” Virgil pushed a hand through his bangs, looking up at the ceiling again with vexation. “How is it that nothing happens in this place in practically eons, but the moment you step out of that relaxation vault the whole facility turns upside down?”

You woke me up. That's on you.

Virgil got a quick glance at her next note, furrowing his brow and thinking about it. “Huh...actually, that's a good point. I guess it is my fault.”

Cores don't have arms. Who painted the banner?

“Oh, uh, apparently Atlas found some paint and brushes in one of the retired chambers just sitting around. Odd place to find art supplies.”

Are they upset with you at all?

“The cores? Nah. Not most of them, anyway. Some are a little harder to please than others. I got a few calling me a vigilante instead of 'rogue core' now.”

Vigilante or Virgil-ante?

Virgil had to pause at that one. It took him a little longer to process misspellings, but once he'd gotten it he frowned at her. “Okay, I'll give you kudos. That was really good, but how come you can make puns and I'm not allowed?”

I'm good at them.

Mel was rolling up the notes that she was done using into little wads and was trying to toss them into the empty can of beans on the coffee table.

So, the Mainframe was Cave Johnson?

“Dunno.” The Maintenance Core shrugged. Now that his pockets were free he stuffed his hands into them and kept them there. “Could have been, but who's guess is it? We've seen a lot of strange stuff happen in the past few hours, so I wouldn't outright turn away from the possibility, but I won't feed it either. Just...who knows? Who really knows at this point?”

Virgil had gone quiet again, but Mel felt like he had more on his mind to say so she kept her notes to herself for the time being. After she'd let him collect his thoughts, he continued on, carefully wording what he wanted to say.

“I'm...not...Aadland...er, I guess he's actually Dr. Aadland. And he was an engineer, not a mechanic. Doesn't matter.” He dismissed his own broken, wishy-washy speaking pattern and got back to the point. “Either way, I started to question if I was him after all. I kept getting pieces of his memories. When the Mainframe shut me down I finally got a good look at who he used to be when he was alive and it was my final deciding point. I'm not him, and you really don't want me to be.”

He wasn't going to go into any further detail on what he'd meant by that last comment, but he'd discovered that as adamant as he had been about NOT being the human his AI had stemmed from, any remaining confusion he may have had was officially cleared away. Dr. Aadland was not the kind of person Virgil wanted to be, so he wouldn't. It was that simple. He could feel bad for him, he could mourn him, and he could even steal his look and habits...they had different experiences. Overall, Virgil was confident that he was a better person for his. He could already hear Mel writing up her response. She had been conflicted with where he'd been on this spectrum of man against machine, so he was more than nervous to see what she had to say.

It makes no difference. You are who you want to be.

“Wow.” He chuckled. She'd surprised him, but he should have expected that from her. He owed her that much. “That's a nice sentiment, Mel. Thanks... So? What now? Do we want to try this escape plan all over again or do we want to just stay veggies on this couch for the rest of our lives?”

Veggies.

Mel paused, her pen of choice pressed against her chin as she looked down at the next blank note on the stack. She wondered why it was that she'd worked herself up into thinking that any of that had mattered? Virgil being human then against being an android now. She could rationalize it came from the lack of human contact she had endured for so long, but she'd just be making up excuses. After the hell they'd fought through, all of these little details seemed pretty pointless.

Both our past lives are gone for good. I need to take care of what I have now.

“Well...” Virgil sat up, a few pens falling off of him and clattering to the floor. “What you have right now are some beans and a lot of sticky notes. But yes, I fully agree with you on that.”

Mel thought of what to write as a witty response, but the longer she stared at her notepad the further it slipped from her mind. Her writing hand relaxed, the pen almost falling from her fingers as her mind wandered. Eventually she placed the pen and sticky notes down all together and drifted to the right until she was laying on her side. Mel turned over, her face in the back of the couch cushions and curling her body towards it. Her whole upper torso raised and fell with a long, hard sigh and she closed her eyes to block out the bright florescent ceiling lights. She'd been so tired. Even with her body and wounds healed over, her heart had been taken for a rather harsh spin one too many times in the past few hours. She felt heavy and sleepy, even after resting for two weeks.

Virgil watched her and eventually reached out to put a hand on her back. He didn't need to do or say anything else, but he had the feeling that he should just leave it there for her. They were no longer in a rush, and they had done nothing but rush since day one. However, that did not mean they could just stay in one place forever. GLaDOS was willing to turn a blind eye to Mel's presence still within the building as Her and Virgil's agreement, but who knew how long that would last?

Mel reached a hand around her back blindly, Virgil following it as it seemed to search for the sticky notepad she'd put down. He could have let her keep doing that for as long as she was willing to, since her hand was nowhere near the block of paper, but he decided to be a merciful core and placed it, and a pen, on her hip where she could easily snatch them up. While she still faced the back couch cushion, her face concealed from Virgil's angle, Mel used it as a surface to write on and handed her friend another note.

Is there anymore pumpkin pie filling left downstairs?

Virgil had taken the note into his own hands and he giggled. He crumpled it up like Mel had been doing and tried tossing it into the beans can, but it bounced off the rim and to the floor. Virgil stood, putting some of the sticky notes and pens back into his pockets to carry with them and leaving the rest where they were so Mel could share the load. “Alright, come on Mel. Let's get you out of here. I know the couch is comfortable, but you have to get up at some point.”

Make me.

#20 is going to be the last one #i swear this time #testing maintenance #tm #portal #portal stories mel #psm #virgil #mel #portal 2 #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #fic #wheaterz

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hiraeth-doux · 8 years ago

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Untouchable (3/8)

Summary: A fresh-out-of-the-NAVY widower Owen Grady knows everything about the war. His own child? Not so much. He settles in his home town with his 5-year-old daughter in hopes of piecing their shattered lives back together. And then they meet Claire Dearing…

Fun fact: this story was meant to be a one-shot to the prompt “Anon: My ex comes home to pick up his/her things and you came by after your shift at work and now my ex thinks you are my new girlfriend/boyfriend, so let’s play it cool” that I received a very long time ago. How it turned into what it is now I have no idea, but since the scene is coming up, I thought I’d mention it :)

This part wasn’t due until next week, but it’s done so you can have it earlier. Thanks for all the love, guys! You have no idea how much it means to me ❤♡ Feedback is always much appreciated!

AO3 | Fanfiction.net

“You did what?” Owen gaped at Claire in disbelief, his jaw hanging open.

It was a Tuesday night in March, and a stormy one at that, with the wind howling outside and the snow lashing out angrily at the world, furious and enraged by the prospect of having to step back and give way to the spring soon. Harper was watching Sponge Bob in Claire’s living room, a box of crayons spilled in front of her on the carpet, after talking Owen into giving her ‘5 more minutes’ three times in a row.

It took them several weeks to settle into a new routine – if Owen was running late, Claire would give him something like 40 minutes during which she’d tidy up the place or teach Harper a move or two. The girl was a natural, throwing herself into the practice with abandon and chatting a mile a minute while doing so. She never shied away from an extra challenge, mesmerized by Claire’s majestic grace and the techniques she’d showed her in the past month or two.

Afterwards, if Owen still was not there, Claire would text him, gather Harper’s stuff and drive them both to her place. They’d eat, finish up on Harper’s homework if necessary and watch TV or play Go Fish, or she’d simply give the girl some paper and pencils to keep her entertained as they waited for Owen to come get her.

“We had grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner,” Claire repeated, if a little cautiously this time. “Is that a problem?”

Once they agreed on their arrangement, Owen provided her with the basic information and phone numbers – his, even though she already had it, his mother’s, his next door neighbor’s who was watching Harper now and then, as well as her school’s, just in case, assuring Claire that his daughter had no allergies, to his knowledge, or any other dietary restrictions. He asked her to maybe steer clear of anything age-inappropriate on TV and not allow Harper to play with her makeup (apparently his wife had a thing about that), but that was it.

In retrospect, maybe there were healthier food options for a five-year old other than buttery bread stuffed with cheese, Claire had to admit that much, but he was looking at her like she’d talked his kid into jumping off a bridge or… okay, she was fresh out of analogies here. He was freaking out, and it was freaking her out, even though she could not, for the life of her, see why.

Owen rubbed his cheek, the stubble scratching the palm of his hand that smelled faintly of gasoline even though he all but scrubbed his skin off an hour earlier, trying to wash it off. He craned his neck to peek at Harper across the hall, singing along with the into song, and then turned to Claire who was filling the dishwasher with cups and plates, her hair veiling her face every time she looked down. “It’s not a problem,” he said, dumbfounded, after a long pause. “It’s a miracle.”

She scoffed, relieved, and slammed the dishwater door closed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think you understand the definition--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he dropped his voice. “It’s been Cheerios for breakfast, PB&J sandwich for lunch, and goddamn pasta for dinner. Every. Single. Day. For months! I didn’t even know she was capable of eating anything else.”

Claire hummed and folded her arms over her chest. “Well, did you try giving her something else?” She asked, which earned her a tight-lipped grumble in the back on his throat and a dirty look. Hands raised in surrender, she shook her head. “You did.”

It was an odd dance they were doing, and half the time she felt like she didn’t know the steps.

In the month since she’d offered to let Harper play in her living room now and then, Owen was undeniably going out of his way to be at the Community Center on time to collect his daughter after the practice, barely ever a few minutes late. Like he didn’t trust Claire, although she could clearly see it wasn’t the case. More like he was trying to prove to her that he could, after all, easily juggle his two jobs, the school runs, and Harper’s extracurricular activities as if it was no big deal. Or maybe to prove it to himself, Claire couldn’t quite decide.

As a result, Harper only came over a handful of times, giddy and excited whenever it happened. It was obvious she craved interaction that went beyond the one she had with her classmates and her father. She adored Owen, that much was clear, but in the absence of a mother whose memory was still fresh in her mind, she latched onto Claire, her eyes sparkling alive every time she’d step onto the ice or get to chat with her for a few minutes and share a story or two about her school or going to Owen’s work or her neighbour’s poodle named Marcel. It was impossible not to get attached to her, and before she knew it was happening, Claire started to feel the claws of affection toward Harper Grady sink deep into her soul.

As for Owen, Claire’s relationship with him morphed into something akin a cautious friendship that consisted of bantering about nothing and walking on eggshells around everything else.

She told him about snagging an internship at Masrani Design after graduating from the Art School of the University of Wisconsin seven years ago, which eventually turned into a career, and explained that she started teaching a while back because it gave her unrestricted access to the rink at all times in-between. It terrified her at first, her inexperience in dealing with the children seeping out of every crack in her armour, but she grew to enjoy it, delighted by their energy and genuine eagerness to learn even when there was no reward waiting for them down the road.

Owen, in his turn, shared a few stories from his time in the NAVY, telling her about the training base in Japan where he got to try boiled locusts and whale meat, and about living in a tent for several months during an operation in the Middle East – he vowed to never underappreciate the indoor plumbing ever again. He answered her curious questions patiently, peppering his tales with hilarious anecdotes about the language barriers and the lack of proper navigation in the places that didn’t know what GPS was.

And in all this time, he hadn’t mentioned his dead wife once, which only made her looming presence so much more notable. Claire wondered sometimes if he could feel it as sharply as she did.

Yet, there was easiness to their conversations, the light jokes that somehow didn’t seem forced or overbearing. However, Claire chalked it up to the fact that he was simply grateful for her involvement with his daughter. Once, he even asked her to join them for a movie, but it was clearly nothing but a polite gesture, and obviously Harper’s idea, so she declined the invitation, offering him a quick excuse she forgot five minutes later, uncertain of whether she saw a flicker of relief or disappointment on his face and choosing not to overthink it.

“Owen Grady?” Karen stared at her for a solid minute when Claire mentioned their situation to her a couple of weeks ago when she came over for dinner. “The Owen Grady? My-shoulders-are-larger-than-life Owen Grady?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Maybe. His full name never came up.” She shrugged, feeling inexplicably defensive and oddly jealous of her nephews who were fighting over a video game in the living room instead of having to endure Karen’s speculative scrutiny. “And what was I supposed to do? Leave the little girl alone in the parking lot?”

“So you decided to adopt her?”

“Why are you complaining?” Claire countered. “ You are always on my case about having a child of my own.”

“I didn’t mean it like--” Karen cut herself off when she realized it was a joke. “Stop deflecting. I thought he was married.”

Claire flinched a little, feeling trapped and kicking herself mentally for bringing it up at all. “Well, not strictly speaking…”

Karen leveled her sister with her best unimpressed look. “You’re making no sense.”

“He lost his wife… ah, that would be about nine or ten months ago now, I think? Cancer.”

Karen’s face fell. “Oh, his poor kid.” She propped her chin on her hand, studying Claire across the table as the timer on the oven kept ticking the seconds away. “And then there’s you.”

“Yup, babysitting. You can bond a lot with people when you do a 12-year-old’s job for them,” Claire deadpanned. “It’s not like that, I swear. We’re just friends.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s--”

“Work ethics. Lots of it.”

“You’re no fun,” Karen sighed.

Clare flashed a bright smile at her. “I have you for that.”

It was easier that way, Claire decided in the end. It was easier to pretend she didn’t care rather than to admit that she wasn’t entirely unattaracted to a very emotionally unavailable man with a seriously messed up life and a baggage so heavy she wondered sometimes how he wasn’t crumbling under its weight with every step he took. Wondered how he kept on breathing without suffocating.

Owen was funny and charming, and he loved his daughter, and he also seemed to be as attainable as the moon. Jesus, the man had been looking right through her for as long as she’d known him. And so Claire pushed those thoughts away, shoved them into the darkest corner of her heart, locked the door, and threw away the key. There was no one else to know the truth but her, and she liked it that way.

“What’s your secret?” Owen asked meanwhile, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Hm?” Claire blinked at him.

He leaned against the cooking counter, watching her with a curious expression – like he was trying to read her mind. (The thought resonated with an unsettling tug in her stomach.) “You’ve done something I didn’t even think was possible, and I really wanna know how.” He picked up an apple from the bowl sitting next to his elbow and sank his teeth into it.

Claire grinned at him. “You never said that pasta was mandatory. I didn’t think to offer it.”

Her phone started to chirp at the same time as someone rang the doorbell, startling them both.

“Could you…” she began, her eyes darting toward the hallway as she reached for her mobile, and Owen nodded and peeled away from the counter. “Beware though, it might be my sister,” she called after him before pressing Accept. “Hi, Mr. Masrani… No, of course, not… I actually finished it and sent it for confirmation.” She rubbed her forehead, listening to Simon Masrani ramble on about his meeting with a potential corporate client scheduled for tomorrow and nodding occasionally even though he couldn’t see her.

“Claire?” Owen called from the hall a few moments later, and she quickly wrapped up the conversation, promising Mr. Masrani to double check everything first thing in the morning.

Jason Reed was standing by the door when she stepped out of the kitchen, sizing up Owen with one measured look after another. Tall and lanky, he seemed to be taking up whatever little space was left there after Owen Grady filled the rest of it, the air around them charged with tension that almost buzzed like electrical static. He turned to Claire – not with hostility exactly, but with a certain air of betrayal and disbelief, a deep frown creasing her forehead, which was odd, coming from someone she’d been broken up with for over four months.

“Jason?” Claire found her voice somehow, her stomach uncomfortably hollow. Then glanced at Owen who seemingly grew a foot taller in the presence of a stranger, his gaze heavy. Then remembered to introduce them. The men nodded to one another, but neither made an attempt to go for the handshake. If anything, both seemed to be tempted to reach for one another’s jugular, and if she could understand it in Jason, with Owen it made no sense whatsoever. “What are you doing here?” She asked at last, her chin tipped up and her arms folded over her chest.

Jason was a representative of one of Claire’s former clients about a year ago. One day, he stopped by to sign some papers and left with her phone number in his pocket. Their relationship was comfortable and convenient, if nothing else. No tides, no currents, just a smooth surface of a lake on a sunny day, undisturbed by the breeze. It wasn’t that they were comfortable in their silences – it was that they didn’t need anything else, and not in a good way. For her, it was a red flag. For Jason, for some reason, it seemed to be a sign of success.

He was so surprised when she offered to call it quits about six months later it would’ve been funny had the moment been slightly less dramatic. For all Claire knew, he still had no idea what pushed her to do it, harbouring a hope she’d come to her senses one of these days.

“You mentioned my stuff…” Jason started, and she jerked her head toward a plain cardboard box without any markings sitting under the hook rack, choosing not to comment on how she said it to him two months ago and he was lucky it was still here and not in the trash. “Right.” He picked up the box, then gave Owen another once-over. “Well, you seem to have moved on quickly, Claire.”

“Thanks for calling before stopping by,” she said flatly.

“I didn’t--” He began and cut himself off with a cough. “I didn’t expect to interrupt anything important.”

“Claire!” Harper burst out of the living room. “Come here! You have to see--” She skidded to an abrupt halt at the sight of a stranger, and Claire habitually reached for her, picking the girl up. Harper’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck as she peeked at Jason from under her hair that fell on her face, her small body tense.

“In a minute, honey,” Claire promised.

With a snicker, Jason pulled the door open without so much as a goodbye, allowing the cold air mixed with a handful of snow to rush into the house, and then slammed in with a loud bang behind him. And Claire finally remembered to exhale, her ears ringing for a second or two.

“Who was that?” Harper whispered, her fingers tangled in Claire’s hair.

“No one,” Claire turned to her, a smile in place. “Just an old friend. So, you were saying….”

The girl looked at Owen whose eyes were still locked on the door, his hands flexing ever so slightly, curling into fists and then uncurling and then tightening again, although it was impossible to tell if he knew he was doing it or not.

“Daddy, did you tell her?” She demanded.

“Tell me what?” Claire eyes shifted from the one to another.

“Oh.” Owen pressed a palm to his forehead. “Of course.” The line of his shoulders relaxed at last, the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out, and a tight set of his lips curved into a one-sided grin. “Ms. Dearing, you’re hereby officially invited to--”

“My birthday party!” Harper finished for him with excitement, her eyes sparkling. “Next Saturday!”

“I am? Really?” Claire felt her smile stretch wider as something warm blossomed in her stomach spreading all over her body like honey melting in the sun. “I’d be a fool to say no.” When Harper ran back off to her cartoons, she straightened up and turned to Owen. “I’m sorry... for this—I had no idea he was going to show up like this.”

“I gathered that much,” Owen said. “Everything okay with you and…” His gaze flickered toward the door, the territorial look on the other man’s face seared into his memory, flaring up something dark and scary and hot inside him, making his blood boil.

“Yeah, it is, actually. Which, I think, is the problem.” Claire pinched the bridge of her nose with a huff of frustration. “Jason and I, we ended our whatever on rather good terms and apparently he decided that it was still salvageable.”

“Is it?”

She dropped her hand to her side to find Owen standing closer to her than she anticipated, his blue eyes pensive and clear, and more than a little troubled. She didn’t even need to try hard to convince herself that there was more to it than idle curiosity to his gaze. And there it was again, a nervous flurry in her chest that was growing progressively harder to ignore.

“No. God, no!” She let out a short, unsteady laugh, shaking her head. “Look, Owen, I shouldn’t have allowed him to think that you and I… That we--” There was no way to make this not sound awkward, and now that the whole incident was over, she could feel her cheeks grow hot, making her wish the floor would open beneath her feet and swallow her whole. Jesus Christ... “I’m sorry for dragging you into my personal issues. I crossed the line and it was unacceptable.”

“Nah, glad I could help,” Owen told her easily and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his sweater stretching over his chest, damn you, Karen! “Also… you don’t have to do the birthday thing if you don’t want to, Claire, or if you have other plans. I swear it’s fine.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her mouth dropped open in mock-indignation. “Six-year olds get the best cakes!”

---

Claire started swimming after her first surgery. It was meant to be a part of her physical therapy aimed at bringing the life back into her sore muscles and weak joints after several months of being practically bedridden. Her doctor kept going on and on and on about building up her strength through low-impact exercises to speed up the recovery.

At the time, it didn’t matter. At the time, Claire didn’t care. Her life was falling apart before her eyes, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t see any future beyond tomorrow. One day after another was all she had. Anything else was either frightening, or downright dreadful.

Claire succumbed, though, more for the sake of getting everyone off her back than anything else, and before long, the pool became her new escape. She loved the velvety touch of the water to her skin, loved feeling that for an hour a day she was more than a broken doll or one grim prognosis after another. It was only in the water that the pain disappeared. Before she could walk without help again, before she could even dream about the ice, she found a way to move without constrains, to feel at home in her own body again.

By the time her physical therapy came to an end, Claire was addicted to swimming. Her therapist explained to her once that people tended to be drawn to the water because it was the most natural environment for them. It was the first memory human bodies had. It meant safety. It meant peace.

Claire liked that theory. If she closed her eyes and allowed the gravity to take her, sinking below the surface, she could never tell where up or down was. It made her think of being in outer space, suspended in zero gravity, floating weightless in a place where the sounds were muffled and world didn’t look as sharp.

She pushed away from the board and took a perfect dive, slicing through the water in a wide arc despite the protest of her muscles, allowing it to envelop her body and push all thoughts out of her mind. She surged forward, kicking furiously with her feet and propelling herself straight ahead in the sea of air bubbles that clung to her arms and tickled her back. Her toes brushed against the tiled bottom before she angled her movement up and toward the surface again, breaking out with a gasp.

After ten laps, with her muscles burning and her lungs screaming for a proper inhale, she drifted off to the middle of the pool and flipped onto her back, her chest still heaving but the rest of her body pleasantly limp. It was still early, and if the place had a glass roof, she’d be able to see the stars.

She closed he eyes, marveling at the contrast between the cool touch of the water and her heated skin, waiting for her heartbeat to get back to normal and hoping her inner turmoil would sort itself out as well in the process. The uncomfortable tug in her knee started to melt away. Last night, she forgot that she was not a real girl anymore and threw herself recklessly into the one thing that made her feel grounded and in control until every inch of the ice beneath the blades of her skates was scarred and dented and she could no longer feel her legs.

Well, she was paying dearly for it today. And for what? It didn’t change anything. It didn’t help her regain her balance. If anything, pushing her limits only made everything worse because she kept looking at the goddamned door, waiting for it to open, but it never did.

It had been a while since she felt this fragmented, this scattered and all over the place, and it was making her antsy and restless, like she was about to jump out of her own skin.

If she tried hard enough, Claire could almost pretend it was about the new project she picked up at work, or the winter that was feeling particularly endless this year, and be done with it. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend it was not at all about the territorial glint in Owen’s eyes on the night when Jason showed up at her place unannounced – the one that probably wasn’t there because it couldn’t be there - that stirred something inside her. Something she didn’t know how to put into words for ethical, moral, and logical reasons. And the worst thing was that it wasn’t even the possibility of it that bothered her, but how much she wanted it to be real, and quite frankly, she had no idea how to feel about it.

She didn’t even know his middle name.

Claire stayed afloat until she cooled down enough for her teeth to start chattering and her body to grow heavy as a stone, and for a brief moment she even panicked, worried that she would sink right to the bottom and never find it in her to come to the surface again…

She thought she’d be the first one in the office when she stepped out of the elevator half an hour later, her damp hair gathered into a sloppy twist, threatening her with an imminent pneumonia. Instead, she spotted Lowery messing with the coffee machine in their tiny kitchen at the end of the hallway while he hummed something under his breath.

He was not bald, like Karen stated, but his hairline was receding and the thick-rimmed glasses added another layer to his already established geekiness. He was wearing a superhero t-shirt today – Claire didn’t recognize the characters but didn’t dare ask because the last time she made that mistake, he dumper roughly 50-years’ worth of history on her and she still hadn’t recovered – that made her own stretched-out vintage sweater look rather sophisticated. Mr. Masrani was right not to push any dress code on them, she mused. They would wilt and die if he did.

Lowery noticed her out of the corner of his eye and looked up, giving Claire a small wave. She nodded her hello.

“What are you doing here so early?”

He emptied at least five packets of sugar into his black coffee and stirred them with enough enthusiasm to create a mini vortex in the cup. “Just finishing some updates,” he shrugged with disinterest, then picked up his drink and followed Claire to her office. “Hey, Claire, some of us are going out for drinks tomorrow night. Wanna come?”

She set her bag onto her desk and shrugged out of her coat, leaving it draped over the back of her chair, then booted up her computer before crossing the room to open the blinds and let the first rays of the morning sun in, allowing them to paint the walls in yellow stripes. “Can’t, sorry.” She shook her head absently and pulled off the hair-tie, ruffling her hair with her fingers. “I have plans.”

Lowery’s eyebrows perked up over the rims of his glasses. “Do tell.”

Claire ignored his curious look and the hunger for gossip in his eyes. They wee starved here, she knew it. Ever since Zara, a junior designer, dumped her boyfriend three weeks ago, there was nothing to talk about near the water cooler, but she was not going to save them at her expense. Instead, she leaned against her desk, making a mental note to de-clutter it and regarded Lowery thoughtfully.

“What would you give to a six-year old girl for her birthday?” She asked him and tilted her head to her shoulder, tapping her fingers on a stack of papers.

The question was more rhetorical than anything else. Still, Lowery took a gulp of his coffee and scrunched his face in concentration. “A Barbie?” He offered uncertainly.

Claire sighed.

This was not helpful.

---

If Owen knew that a handful of first- and second-graders could cause so much ruckus, he would probably pay more attention to buying earplugs instead looking for a perfect set of Disney-themed paper plates.

After having to reject the Space and Underwater Kingdom party ideas, for obvious reasons, and also because Owen knew there was no way he could pull them off on such a short notice, they finally settled on the Rainbow theme, which was a blessing, as far as he was concerned. Basically, everything had to be rainbow-colored – balloons and paper lanterns, banners, candles on the cake, party hats. Even Harper’s overalls and leggings sported every colour of the spectrum. Granted, all of the parents in attendance were about to drop dead from this visual assault, but the kids found it delightful.

His mother helped him decorate the living room this morning while Harper was still asleep, allowing Owen to have a quick run to the bakery to pick up the cake he ordered a week ago – rainbow-layered, of course – and a handful of cupcakes so rich in food colouring he wondered if it was safer to gorge on a Chemistry Set instead.

This was so not how Jenny would have handled any of this, he thought as he fingers moved swiftly to tie the last of the balloons in the hallway and give everything a cursory look before the guests arrived. Jenny would have planned this in advance and probably thought of healthy snack alternatives, too. She would’ve made the Space theme possible. She wouldn’t have forgotten about Harper’s birthday until two weeks ago when the girl casually reminded Owen about it, stressing the importance of inviting her friends. And Barry. And Claire.

He was ecstatic beyond himself that she wanted it at all – after the months of barely leaving her room, let alone the house, his kid wanted to socialize. With people. It was going to happen even if he had to tear the world apart and put it back together.

Except it was a goddamn nightmare and now Owen feared they might have to move after the party was over because there was no fucking way he would ever clean this place up and make it acceptable for living again. But Harper’s smile was worth it, a million times over, even if the noise was giving him a raging headache.

“You’re so lucky she didn’t ask for karaoke,” a father of one of the kids told him. Owen was. He really and truly was.

And they still were hours away from the cake part, which his mother told him usually signified the end of the event.

He was on the way to the bathroom to find a bottle of aspirin when someone rang the doorbell, and when Owen pulled it open, his first thought was – Here it is, I’ve finally lost it. Filling the whole doorway was a huge grey teddy bear, the one from cheesy greeting cards. And sure enough, it had a greeting card of its own sticking from under a giant pink bow tied around its neck.

“Man, is that you?” Owen heard Barry’s muffled voice, and when he opened the door wider, the latter nearly fell into the hallway, having a hard time walking with the stuffed toy the size of a truck in his arms.

“Please tell me there’s booze in there,” Owen muttered, eyeing yet another present with a mixture of awe and disbelief – who on earth decided that the toys twice bigger than kids were a good idea? They might need to build a separate room for it – it sure as hell was not going to fit in Harper’s.

“That fun, huh?” Barry smirked.

“You have no idea,” Owen breathed out. The parents tried to be engaged, but after an hour or so, most of them started to look mildly shell-shocked from the noise, probably happy beyond themselves none of this was actually their concern. There was nothing Owen wanted more than to join them on the back porch, screw the cold. “Hey, Harper!” He called out instead, and the girl snapped her head up, her curls bouncing up and down her back. “Look who’s here!”

Barry waved at her with a dazzling smile plastered on his face and she waved wildly back before going back to… whatever it was they were all doing there that, surprisingly, didn’t involve shrieking or demolishing the house.

“This isn’t so bad,” Barry told him meanwhile, swiping the living room with a wide glance as he pulled off his jacket.

Earlier, Owen pushed most of the furniture to the walls to clear the space for Harper and her seven guests to play. There were snacks and an assortment of beverages of every color he could find on the table by the window, half-consumed by now, as well as a stack of all possible board games and drawing supplies he could think of to pull out of Harper’s room, feverishly trying to remember if this always was such a hassle. Last year, Jenny was already sick, mere weeks away from her final trip to the hospital from which she never returned back home, so they had a quieter celebration, just the three of them, and before that… well, Owen couldn’t remember it ever being this much.

A week ago, he hoped the weather would break at last, allowing him to kick the whole crowd into the backyard for a while. Instead, the storm that had hit them a few days ago effectively messed up that plan, and he suspected that doing so now would be a complete disaster, and maybe he didn’t need them all to get sopping wet after a snowball fight or something of that kind.

“Wait till the sugar kicks in,” he told Barry while his friend set the bear in the corner in the hallway, propping it against the staircase.

And then he nudged Owen in the ribs and jerked his chin toward a small gathering by the couch. “Who’s that?”

Sitting cross-legged on the floor among the congregation of kids was Claire. She had an open bag of mini-marshmallows in front of her and a pack of toothpicks, and right now she was showing them all how to build things, connecting marshmallow to one another with said toothpicks. To him, it all mostly looked like elaborate molecule models that resembled the stuff one would find in a chemistry book, but whatever it really was they were doing, they all seemed to be finding it fascinating.

Her hair was tied loosely at the nape of her neck, a few strands brushing against her cheeks. And Owen had to make a physical effort to remind himself not to smile at the sight of her, patiently playing with his daughter and the other children, her bright red lips moving as she explained something or another to them, her voice too soft for him to catch what she was saying, but everyone seemed enthralled, and he couldn’t blame them.

“That’s Harper’s ice-skating instructor,” he responded with a nonchalant shrug, folding his arms over her chest. “I told ya, remember? My kid invited her to come.”

“That is her instructor?” Barry’s jaw hit the floor, and he smacked Owen on the arm with the back of his hand. “Man... Wait, is that…” His eyes narrowed. “Is she…?”

Owen chuckled. “Yup. The one and only.”

Another smack on the arm. “Man!” Barry shook his head.

Owen’s phone let out a high-pitched shrill, a familiar caller ID blinking on the screen. “Harper,” he called out again. “Come talk to Grandma Sylvia.”

The girl leaped up from the floor and ran over to him, taking the phone from his hand and going to sit on the stairs to chat with Jenny’s mother who lived in Michigan, dumping everything on her in one endless sentence that didn’t require breathing – from the bright party hats and a seven-tier cake to the list of presents she received.

Claire rose to her feet as well. She brushed her palms to her grey slacks, smoothing out the creases, and then, after promising the adoring crowd to come back soon, she picked up an empty lemonade pitcher to refill it, carefully navigating her way across the minefield of discarded pieces of LEGO and colouring supplies.

“Oh, hey,” she smiled at Owen when she saw him hovering in the doorway with a mildly panicked expression on his face, the same one that prompted her to take charge of the entertainment twenty minutes after she walked through the door and found him in a state close to shock. “We’re good, really,” she promised him and patted him on the shoulder. “A couple more hours, and they’ll be too tired to cause any trouble.”

“You don’t have to do it,” he told her quietly.

“I know. But it’s fun. We’re building a tower.” And then her gaze shifted past his shoulder and fixed on Barry. “Hi.”

“Oh, right.” Owen introduced them quickly.

“Madame.” Barry took her hand and brushed his lips to her knuckles.

“Enchantée,” Claire replied, practically curtsying.

He arched his eyebrows. “Vous etes vraiment magnifique.”

“Show off,” Owen muttered, glaring at his friend as Claire squeezed past them with a giggle, heading for the kitchen. “The hell did you say to her?”

“None of your business,” Barry snorted good-naturedly, and then turned to him. “I can’t believe your daughter has a real-life Barbie.” His eyes widened and his voice dropped. “You and her… right?” He hissed, pointing over his shoulder. “Please tell me that you and her--”

Owen waved him off. “What? No, dude! Jesus, she’s… I don’t know, a friend. It’s not like that.”

Harper skipped over to them and tucked Owen’s phone into the back pocket of his jeans before giving Barry a quick hug and running over to her guests, and Barry dropped his hands on Owen’s shoulders, giving him a little shake. “Owen, my friend, you’re crazy. Do something about it.”

---

It was only in the late afternoon after the cake had been eaten, the presents opened, and everyone except Owen’s mother headed home that he found Claire in the kitchen, pulling the cling wrap over the leftovers to put them in the fridge.

“Hey, there you are.” He offered her a tired smile, feeling the weight lift off his shoulders, struck by how comforting her presence in his house felt. “Honestly, Claire, you don’t have to bother with any of this,” he gestured around with a wide swipe of his hand, already mentally prepared for the long night of cleaning the house.

She scoffed. “This is where you say thank you and let me finish.”

“Thank you.” He ran a weary hand down his face and leaned against the sink. “Was it obvious I’ve never done this before?”

“I thought you’d be hiding in a coat closet by the end of the first hour,” she admitted and stuffed a plate of cupcakes into the fridge. A Tupperware container filled with mini sausage rolls followed suit.

“Damn, I didn’t know it was an option.” He rubbed his eyes, honestly wishing he’d thought of it sooner. “How’d you know about this kind of stuff?”

“Two nephews,” she shuddered dramatically and moved to stand next to him. “And trust me, it’s worse with the boys – they want to set everything on fire.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Owen hummed dryly.

“Don’t worry,” her eyes softened, “you’ll get a hang of it. Probably by the time she’d rather die than have you anywhere near her friends, but still.”

His laughter morphed into a desperate groan and he buried his face in his hands. “Wonderful.”

Claire elbowed him lightly in the arm. “You did great. Harper loved it. The cake, the balloons, everything.” The worry lines in the corners of his eyes smoothed out. “Your mom is very nice,” she added nonchalantly, watching him squirm a little.

That was a very polite understatement, and he was painfully aware of the fact that Claire knew it.

Colleen Grady was a groupie. If he knew how comically his mother’s eyes would pop out when she found out that ‘a friend’ he mentioned was not only a woman, but a local celebrity of sorts, he’d have a camera close at hand, if only because he knew for a fact that he would never surprise her like this again even if he spent the rest of his life trying. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so embarrassing. He should have warned Claire, or his mother, or both of them. There was no way he was going to live it down.

“Whatever she said to you… it’s not true,” he told her solemnly, struggling not to laugh.

Claire’s eyebrow quirked curiously. “Even the good stuff?”

“Especially the good stuff.”

“Daddy,” Harper appeared in the kitchen and scrambled up onto the barstool near the counter. “Look what Grandma gave me!” She thrust her hand at him, rolling her wrist to show him a silver charm bracelet with a few charms on it, glinting in the light of an overhead lamp. “Isn’t it the prettiest?”

“It sure is!” He confirmed.

“And Claire didn’t bring me anything.” She turned expectantly to Claire.

“I didn’t?” Claire pressed her hand to her chest, appalled.

Harper shook her head vigorously. “I checked twice!”

“Well, it’s because my present is a surprise.” Claire told her, leaning closer to the girl over the counter as her voice dropped conspiratorially.

Harper’s face lit up and she also leaned forward. “What kind of surprise?”

“Your dad told me that you asked for a pony--”

“Please tell me there’s no horse in my backyard,” Owen muttered with unmasked terror in his voice. “Please tell me there’s no--”

“There is no horse in your backyard,” Claire told him and shook her head before turning back to his daughter. “But I would love to take you,” she tapped the girl on the nose with her finger, “to the stables tomorrow and you could ride one as much as you want.” And then added, “If that’s okay with your father, of course.”

They both turned to Owen.

“Daddy, please, can we go? Please, please, please?” Harper pleaded, practically holding her breath.

He looked between her and Claire for a long moment, putting an almost inhuman effort into keeping a straight face. “Can I come with?”

Harper shrieked and pressed her hands to her mouth before sliding off the stool and taking off on, “I gotta tell Grandma!”

“What?” Claire asked, straightening up when she saw him watch her like she’d just fell out of the sky and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re scaring me now. Should I have asked first?” Her brows knitted together in concern, slight worry creeping into her voice. “I should’ve asked, haven’t I? I’m sorry, Owen, I just really wanted it to be a surprise--”

“No, no!” He stopped her. “It’s, ah…” Owen let out a long breath, and ruffled his hair with his hand, not sure how to put into words the magnitude of her gesture. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for Harper, or me. Or both of us, combined.”

She relaxed minutely. “It’s nothing, I assure you. I know someone…”

“Yes, it is, Claire.” His voice lowered to a low, velvet husk that caused the goosebumps to spring along her skin. “It is.”

She wanted to say something deep and profound, or better yet – laugh it off altogether, self-conscious under his gaze. Except his face was suddenly very close to hers, and she could smell chocolate cupcake on him and his cologne and man, and the world shrunk to the size of this kitchen. She heard him swallow, her own senses sharpened and amplified, and for a moment, Claire couldn’t hear anything past the blood rush in her ears.

Owen’s gaze dropped to her lips, and she tilted her face up—

Something fell and shattered in the living room, startling them. A concerned and then reassuring murmur followed, the voices low and the words indistinguishable. Claire turned away, causing Owen’s mouth to brush briefly against hers, a feather-light touch that left her lips tingling with an electric undercurrent coursing beneath her skin.

“I should… go,” she stepped away from him, jittery from a jolt of adrenaline.

“Yeah, and I should… check what they broke there,” Owen nodded numbly and cleared his throat. “Claire….” Say something. Something smart. Or funny. Anything. Say anything. “Thanks for coming.”

She nodded, too, and picked up her purse from the counter. “Thanks for the cake. And, Owen?” She paused, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. “About tomorrow…” His heart plummeted into his stomach. “You’re driving.”

---

Later that night, after he drove his mother home, almost successfully managing to avoid her questions, and loaded dishes into the dishwasher, after he removed party banners from the walls, took out the garbage, and returned the living-room furniture where it belong, after he helped Harper haul her presents into her room and then tucked his daughter into bed, the excitement of the day finally catching up with her, Owen collapsed onto the couch and finally allowed himself to breathe out a sigh of relief.

This day was officially over, and he was so drained his brain hurt.

There was a wedding photo of him and Jenny sitting on the dresser in the bedroom, and he couldn’t bring himself to step into the room. Normally, seeing it a few times a day felt like a relief, if a bittersweet one. Like it was a testament to her presence in his life. But after what happened between him and Claire earlier, he couldn’t bear the idea of facing it, his thoughts a jumbled mess he wasn’t sure how to deal with, or even where to start.

He almost kissed another woman today. The woman who loved his daughter. The one whose smile was like magic. The one he knew he would have kissed if they weren’t interrupted.

The one who wasn’t his wife.

Owen let out a long breath and ran his palm over his jaw, his stubble catching on his wedding ring and giving him a start, and all of a sudden, it felt too tight on his hand, squeezing the life out of him. He twisted it around his finger, and the sensation was gone.

“So,” he dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling lined with shadows from the reading lamp in the corner, “now what?”

To be continued...

PS Head-canons are welcome!

#clawen #clawen fic #owen grady #claire dearing #jurassic world #untouchable #this story is my life #please be kind to it :)

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infinitehouseofbooks · 8 years ago

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BLOG TOUR - Twisted: The Girl Who Uncovered Rumplestilkin's Name

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Bewitching Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Genre: YA Fantasy

Twisted: The Girl Who Uncovered Rumpelstiltskin’s Name

Bonnie M Hennessy

Genre: YA Fantasy

Date of Publication: November 19, 2016

ISBN13: 978-1539753421

ISBN-10: 1539753425

ASIN: B01N3MC1K4

Number of pages: 306

Word Count: 75,000

Cover Artist: Andreea Vraciu

Book Description:

An old tale tells the story of how a little man named Rumpelstiltskin spun straw into gold and tricked a desperate girl into trading away her baby. But that’s not exactly how it happened.

The real story began with a drunken father who kept throwing money away on alcohol and women, while his daughter, Aoife, ran the family farm on her own. When he gambled away everything they owned to the Duke, it was up to her to spin straw into gold to win it all back.

With her wits and the help of a magical guardian, she outsmarted the Duke and saved the day.

Well almost…

Her guardian suddenly turned on Aoife and sent her on a quest to find his name, the clues to which were hidden deep in the woods, a moldy dungeon, and a dead woman’s chamber.

This is not the tale of a damsel in distress, but a tenacious, young woman who solved a mystery so great that not even the enchanted man who spun straw into gold could figure it out.

Not until Aoife came along.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/3SDfW7PY3wY

Amazon

Interview With the Author

What initially got you interested in writing?

I grew up enjoying writing and from about middle school on, I knew I was good at it. I wasn’t a great student, so this was my one way of shining with very little effort. As an adult, I became a high school teacher and teaching was my focus for many years. However, in the background in between grading papers, I was always writing novels. Most of them were bad, and it is a good thing I have kept them in boxes and never showed them to many people. I think I had to write all those ‘practice’ novels to get to Twisted and all the books that are waiting for me to write. I don’t know if there was any specific moment that made me declare myself a writer. It’s just something I’ve always done. Runners run. Chefs cook. Lumberjacks chop wood. And I write books.

How did you decide to make the move into being a published author?

As I said before, I had written plenty of bad novels and received many rejections from agents. With Twisted, I just knew that I had written something good, something that I finally wanted to share with people. I kept rereading passages and instead of cringing that they didn’t sound the way I wanted them to, I smiled, wishing I could show the book to my friends. Many people are afraid of getting older, but I feel like as I look forward to 40, there’s this incredible sense of confidence and intuition that has grown in me over the years of trials, joys, accomplishments and, yes, failures that told me that this was my moment to see my greatest wish of becoming a published author come true. It also helps that I have an amazingly supportive husband beside me who thinks I walk on water! He was the one who gave me the final nudge I needed to make the move.

What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

I want them to realize that we are all walking contradictions and that we are all only who we are at any given moment. Today I’m an author, wife, and mother who yelled at her son a little too harshly. Tomorrow I will take my kids to the indoor trampoline metropolis of the world with five friends and I will be the greatest mom ever. But I am neither the worst nor the best mother. I’m just a woman doing the best I can at any given moment. I think if we could look past people’s short comings, the way Aoife looks past her father’s alcoholism, Maeve’s career as the Madam of a brothel, and even her mother’s abusive cruelty, then maybe we could gain a better understanding of each other. I look at the political landscape, the cultural divides, the religious extremities and realize that we don’t see each other as imperfect humans, but as caricatures of stereotypes that have been sold to us by the media and the societies we live in. I think what made me fall in love with Aoife was her ability to accept the flaws of others and still shake their hands. That’s a lesson I’m still working on cultivating in myself!

What do you find most rewarding about writing?

I love feeling like I’ve let go of myself and let inspiration in. I don’t think I ever experienced that until Twisted. The first time it happened was when I was writing the scene where Aoife goes back to Rumpelstiltskin’s house for the first time. I had it all planned out in my head as to what would happen in the chapter and even the whole outer frame of the story. Then suddenly, the story turned. The characters did not and would not do what I had planned for them. After a reluctant moment, I took a breath and stopped thinking about what I had planned and let the scene between them unfold, allowing them to write their own dialogue, describe their emotions, and choreograph their movements. When I finished, I knew something special had just happened. I remember telling my husband, “Now I know I’m a writer because I didn’t write that chapter by myself.”

What do you find most challenging about writing?

Time and leg cramps. There never seems to be enough time to write. And when there is plenty, my eyes and brain eventually give out before I’m ready to quit. And who what writer doesn’t lament leg cramps and a sore butt! I know it’s not the intellectual answer readers may expect and it’s not as cliché as discussing the very frightening reality of writer’s block, but leg cramps and a sore butt are definitely some of my biggest challenges. Maybe I should start writing from a treadmill.

What advice would you give to people want to enter the field?

Now that I’m published, people are coming to me as if I know the path to the holy grail. It scares me that people think I know something about the business side of writing! However, the number one piece of advice I have after just these first few months is to remember that there is a difference between being a writer and selling books. Being a writer is fun and, hopefully, comes naturally. Enjoy it! For the creative people who want to publish, selling them is hard work! Remember, no matter how special that manuscript feels, it is just the first one. Assuming you are planning to keep writing, you need to look at each book you publish as a learning experience that will help you be even more successful with the next one, and the next one, and the next.

What ways can readers connect with you?

I have fought social media for a long time, but now that I’m in the business of selling books, there are oh-so many ways to connect with me. I am available through all the many channels, which I have listed below. I have this idea that I would also love to skype into people’s book club meetings. Drop me an email through my website or Facebook if your book club decides to read Twisted, and I will try to find a way to make the meeting!

My Website: https://www.bonniemhennessy.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/twistedthebook

Twitter: @bonniemhennessy

Instagram: @bonniemhennessy

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/bonniemhennessy/

Chapter 1 Excerpt

The morning mist had almost lifted in the village of Stanishire, the farmers and fishermen were readying the market, women were shouting chores to sleepy children, and Aoife was on her way to collect her father from the town brothel, where the painted ladies entertained men’s nocturnal needs.

When she reached the main street, she dismounted and tied her horse to a hitching post. She walked around the corner of the brothel where no one could see her, adjusted her skirt, and ran her fingers through her hair. Practice had taught her how to jiggle the finicky latch so its reluctant grip released and granted her entrance. The back hallway was dark and quiet. Maggie, the young girl who helped cook and clean, was opening windows to release the sweat and perfume-laced air. Broken glass littered the floor, and cards from unfinished games lay scattered on tables.

“Maggie,” Aoife whispered.

Maggie turned into the dust motes in a sliver of daylight. Over the years, Aoife had learned to call her gently and not to sneak up on her lest she startle the young girl as she had done the first time they met here when Aoife was eleven and Maggie just nine.

“Eeeeef-uh!” Maggie’s eyes lit up as she called Aoife’s name. She had always over-enunciated each syllable in what sounded like a sigh of relief.

She took hold of Aoife’s hand, pulling her around the corner and into the kitchen, one of the only places in the residence that passed for a respectable room.

“Wait here,” Maggie said, kissing Aoife on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Aoife looked around at the pots hanging on the wall that Maggie kept so shiny. A rolling pin on the counter was coated with flour and the smell of bread baking in the oven filled the dimly lit room. In the corner was Maggie’s chair with a basket of women’s stockings waiting to be darned. Aoife turned her back to the parlor door and everything that happened there, pretending her visits with Maggie by the fire were no different than a visit with any other village girl. The sight of Maggie humming as she patched up stockings always made Aoife think of her younger sister, Tara, lying under her heavy blankets, sewing away at some pattern their mother had her working on. Aoife felt that Tara and Maggie would have enjoyed chatting over their sewing, if only Tara were not stuck in bed with a perpetual cough and Maggie the progeny of a brothel.

“Aoife. You look quite bright and alive considering the early hour.”

Aoife jumped as Maeve strolled over and pulled a leaf from Aoife’s hair.

“I see you’ve been busy with your studies,” Maeve added.

Aoife touched her hair, searching for more debris. Maeve’s dressing gown exposed her cleavage and her long, dark curls draped over her bare shoulders without apology. Aoife had seen her dressed, powdered, and painted since she was a girl, and she admired the way her gaze, so piercing, seemed to command respect from everyone. But what had captivated Aoife the most was something more powerful and more impressive than Maeve’s beauty. Although crow’s feet now punctuated her eyes, and her waistline had thickened, the most powerful men deferred to her, bowing their heads in her direction when she traveled through the streets.

“I couldn’t resist the path through the woods,” Aoife replied, knowing she could hide nothing from her.

Maeve stared at her. The affection in her appraisal was always slightly distant, stopping just short of motherly.

“Seamus is taking care of things,” Maeve said with her usual calm.

Aoife nodded and looked again at the shiny pots, trying to focus on anything but Seamus’ highly embarrassing ritual of waking her father, the fairly infamous Finnegan, from wherever he had ended his evening and saddling him on his horse. Maggie pulled a loaf of steaming bread from the oven and set out plates, knives, and a bowl of fresh butter. Each of them took their place around the table as Maggie generously portioned out the bread. Maeve let her shawl fall over the back of her chair and straightened up her shoulders, exposing even more of herself. Aoife flushed and bit quietly into her bread, savoring the flavor and the moment.

There was an honesty and warmth in this kitchen that she never felt in the presence of her own mother. Conversation and warm bread was what made coming to get her father for all these years worth the lashings she used to receive from her mother when she returned home.

“I hear that your latest suitor was seen heading out of town yesterday,” Maeve said. “I gather his hasty departure means that there will be no nuptials?”

Aoife shook her head and cast a quick smile at Maggie.

“I can’t imagine why you didn’t want to marry that one,” Maeve said. “Lots of gold, a manor house to the east with more land than you and your horse could ever discover, and handsome, too. What more could a girl want than a man with piles of gold and a good set of teeth?”

“A man who is blind and deaf and preferably feeble – with deep pockets, of course. Then I can live my life in peace and never have to worry about his teeth – or mine for that matter.”

Maggie giggled, and Maeve raised an appreciative eyebrow, offering her signature half-smile, half-smirk. Aoife grinned and took another bite of the steaming bread.

“And what do your parents say?” Maeve asked. Her features had softened, but her thoughts remained inscrutable. “I can’t imagine they find your refusals as entertaining as we do.”

Aoife fell silent. This was an unexpected detour in the script. They avoided direct references to Aoife’s family. It made breaking bread between them possible, since the money Maeve took from Aoife’s father by night was one of the greatest strains on her family’s resources, reputation, and love. The medicine that Tara often went without after her father’s reckless trips was reason enough for Aoife to despise Maeve, but she had learned to avoid dwelling on these realities. She needed Maeve enough to tolerate her father’s indiscretions, since rescuing him had now become a means of escaping her life. Discussing her family jeopardized everything.

“Well, no, they are not exactly pleased,” Aoife replied, her brashness fading.

Maeve wiped the corner of her mouth and cleared her throat. Something in the air had changed.

“You know, at some point, perhaps sooner than you might expect, they will stop coming. First, the young ones with stacks of gold and good teeth. They have the most fragile egos and will seek out friendlier pastures. Then eventually, even the wrinkly ones, with and without gold, will find calling on you not worth the effort,” Maeve paused. “The tales of your beauty will be replaced by tales of new faces with more welcoming smiles. The choices left to you will be slim.”

The bread balled up in Aoife’s throat. She could have had breakfast in her own home if she wanted this type of talk. She suddenly felt incensed that Madame Maeve dared to criticize her.

“My mother mires me in these traps daily,” Aoife dusted the crumbs from her hands. “She appreciates neither the risk to my reputation I take coming here nor the fact that I am the one who has run the farm for years now.”

“This is true. Your family would be in the poor house and your sister probably with God if not for your courage and your brains,” Maeve said. “But I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you and your future. You must understand that there are consequences for you, whether you say yes or no to the suitors who come your way.”

She raised an eyebrow, which seemed loaded with a warning left to Aoife to decipher. It had a familiar ring to it, like the warnings her mother made so often about the consequences of Aoife’s trips to Maeve’s house.

“No respectable man will ever want to marry a girl who consorts with vile women, not when he thinks he can pay a few coins for her instead,” her mother would say.

Her mother lived in such a dream world she did not recognize that Aoife was trying to protect the family’s reputation and as much of their finances as was possible. Her mother worried more about Aoife’s reputation than the food on the table and Tara’s medicine. And because of that, a chasm had grown between them too deep to ever cross.

“My choices are just as narrow as every other girl’s. I know that,” Aoife said standing up abruptly. Her shawl dropped to the floor, its power to protect her no match for the storm brewing in the kitchen. “But I’d never compromise myself – or give men control over my body for money like you do. Of that you can be sure.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Maeve replied, completely unruffled. “But it’s interesting that you did. And, Aoife, no matter what choice you make – your husband’s house, my house, or the nunnery – you are exchanging control over your body for money. Of that you can be sure.”

“I have given half my life already to protecting my family. Everyday, whether I’m seeing that fields are reseeded and sheep are sheared or carting my father home from here, I am picking up the pieces of my family’s fortune that my father has broken apart,” Aoife said with less command of her voice than she would have liked. “And now, after I’ve done everything I can to save this family, they – and you – expect me to sell myself off to the next buyer, supposedly to protect them? I can’t do it.”

Aoife knew there was no way for a woman to survive in the world without the protection of a man, yet the security they offered was never guaranteed. Her father’s choices still chipped away at the pieces of what was once her mother, Bronagh. Still bedecked in the jewels of their courtship, she found her only solace and comfort in embroidering ornate and regal designs and patterns by the night fire, awaiting his return from Maeve’s as if her delicate hands could somehow stitch back together the girl he had unraveled and the lives he had torn apart at the seams. Bronagh would not even consider selling her tapestries or needlework to help support her family, for that would have been beneath a woman of her status. Aoife, however, was not built to sit and sew while their fortune and Tara’s health deteriorated at the hands of her father. She needed to be on her feet fixing the problem, not decorating the home they were sure to lose if no one intervened.

Bronagh had traded away her soul for a broken promise of safety and love, and she expected Aoife to do the same. But now Maeve, too? Her advice was nothing less than a betrayal.

“For women not made to curtsey obediently through life, there is no easy choice.” A subtle urgency belied Maeve’s calm. “However, refusing every suitor is not a means of controlling your life, but rather giving over control to whatever or whomever is left over.”

“So I should marry the next man who comes along or end up in a whore house like you?” Aoife said, wincing at her angry words.

She was angry that Maeve had taken her mother’s side, but she did not relish wounding the one person who had always been a source of strength and understanding. Despite her words, Maeve’s features revealed not even the slightest hint of hurt.

“What I am saying is that you ought to turn away any option which would leave you without hope of peace and contentment,” Maeve replied. “But do not fool yourself into waiting for a perfect choice to present itself, because it never will.”

Aoife felt her stomach lurch. She needed to get away from this house, this woman, and the truth. Turning around, she marched outside where her father was standing. She walked to her horse and looked to see if he needed assistance. The legacy of too much mead weighed on his haggard figure as Seamus helped him to his horse.

“I’m so sorry to have inconvenienced you this morning, my sweet Aoife,” her father’s worn voice eschewed sadly.

“I know, father,” she replied. “You’re always sorry.”

He swayed precariously in either direction and then took Aoife’s hand suddenly.

“You’re too good to me, Aoife,” he whispered. “You should be reaching for the–”

“Stars,” she finished. “I know, Father.”

He closed his eyes and pressed her hand between his.

“My hand’s grown since we spent our nights stargazing.”

He nodded and Aoife felt a pang of nostalgia sweep over her. She missed the way he used to pick her up from her mother’s side by the fire and take her out of doors to look at the moon and stars. The memory of the polished scent of him from her childhood came back over the stench of mead that clung to him now. He had been a good father once upon a time. She looked up, searching for any fragment of the man who tossed her high in the air as a little girl. The sparkle of a tear danced at the corner of his eye. There he was. She kissed his forehead tenderly and he sighed with the soft smile reserved only for Aoife. His favorite.

About the Author:

Bonnie grew up a shy, quiet girl who the teachers always seated next to the noisy boys because they knew she was too afraid to talk to anyone. She always had a lot she wanted to say but was too afraid to share it for fear she might die of embarrassment if people actually noticed her. Somewhere along the line, perhaps after she surprised her eighth grade class by standing up to a teacher who was belittling a fellow student, she realized that she had a voice and she didn’t burst into flames when her classmates stared at her in surprise.

Not long after that, she began spinning tales, some of which got her into trouble with her mom. Whether persuading her father to take her to the candy store as a little girl or convincing her parents to let her move from Los Angeles to Manhattan to pursue a career at eighteen as a ballet dancer with only $200 in her pocket, Bonnie has proven that she knows how to tell a compelling story.

Now she spends her time reading and making up stories for her two children at night. By day she is an English teacher who never puts the quiet girls next to the noisy boys and works hard to persuade her students that stories, whether they are the ones she teaches in class or the ones she tells to keep them from daydreaming, are better escapes than computers, phones, and social media.

Author website: http://www.bonniemhennessy.com/

Twitter: @bonnieMHennessy

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/twistedthebook/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32962973-twisted

Tour giveaway

3 copies of Twisted

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BLOG TOUR – Twisted: The Girl Who Uncovered Rumplestilkin’s Name was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.

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