#i just think that brain injury and brain surgery would be uh... more intense than us and the story give it credit for

[science-lings]

btw if Thalassa wins my art poll I will base her hair and scars on the fact that she suffered a traumatic brain injury (read as: got shot in the head) that made her suffer from amnesia and blindness for like 15 years and just got surgery to reverse that. I will do light research on parts of the brain to make the design make a little sense, with some plausible deniability. I'm gonna do that thing where the trauma that was downplayed by canon gets up-played by me. But I'm also... not a brain surgeon so I can't exactly promise it will be accurate lol.

[usaonetwothree]

First of all thank you thank you thank you so much for the johnny whump!!!

Also wondering if there's any chance you will be writing any johnny whump featuring more johnny/Carmen? Maybe an extension of that part of The Agreement where she's examining his injuries? The thought just gives me total whumperflies!

Thank you so much for the message, Anon!! And you're most welcome! The show is just teeing it up so nicely. I'm really just continuing what they started :)

I hadn't thought about an interlude to The Agreement, but now my plot bunnies are going. Give me a few weeks to see what I come up with! I'll post it here for sure, and if it's long enough, I'll copy it over to ao3 as a second chapter.

In the interim, I have the start of a whumpy two-chapter fic that I don't know if I'm going to finish. Working summary is "Johnny doesn't have time to get sick. Besides, it's just food poisoning... right?" I'll post the completed first chapter below, and the plan for chapter two would be from Carmen's point-of-view from the ambulance ride through surgery and Johnny finally waking up. I wrote a lot of the ideas I had for her part into Conflict, which is why I think I'm stalled on it here in coming up with something different. I don't know how long it'll take me to figure that out (if ever) but at least you'll have the first chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you again for the kind message!

Pain exploded in his side, worse than he’d ever felt before. He had reference for this: he’d torn, strained, bruised, strained, dislocated and broken many things in the past. This pain blew them all away. It was he’d been stabbed with a hot knife up to the hilt, and someone was twisting it around in his guts.

His hand went to the area, came away warm, but he wasn’t bleeding. Felt like it. Felt oozing and wet and raw.

Somehow, above the nausea, above the stabbing ache in his head, he knew this was serious. And he needed help.

He couldn’t remember where his phone was. Didn’t have time to stop and think.

With every inch of his skin on fire, he leveraged himself off the couch and almost screamed as utter agony raced up his side. His knees buckled but he didn’t let himself fall. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t get back up.

Partially hunched over, he stumbled forward, careful not to jar his torso. He caught the door before the handle, barely cracking it open before he almost fell through. He jabbed his right elbow into the stucco wall, used that as a guide.

Elbow on the wall, left hand on his abdomen, trying to hold whatever was wrong in. One foot in front of the other.

It was the only thing going through his head.

Left.

Right.

Left.

A chill tore up his spine. His brain went fuzzy for a second and his elbow came away from the wall.

He almost went down again, caught himself at the last second. Leaned so far right he almost bashed his head into the stucco.

But he was vertical again.

He kept going until he hit another door.

The door that could help him.

Everything hurt now. He was sweating, burning up. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of his head, and his limbs were trembling.

He tried to knock, lost his balance. Went down in a heap of limbs.

His side crashed into the ground and fire tore through his abdomen, pain so sharp and intense he couldn’t speak—couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think.

He thought he smelled something familiar. Heard something close. Felt something against his forehead.

But it was lost in a wave of blackness.

A * A

Twelve hours earlier…

Daniel LaRusso walked into Miyagi-Fang to hear a sound he was uncomfortably familiar with. As his own stomach churned in sympathy, he stepped closer to the small wood door leading to the bathroom and rapped on it.

“Everything okay?” he asked, scrunching up his nose as the stench filtered out into the dojo.

“Fine,” a thin voice gasped.

“Johnny?” Daniel rapped harder on the door. “Let me in.”

“‘m fine.”

Daniel then heard the toilet flush and someone heave themself upright, before the faucet was turned on.

“Johnny, what’s wrong?” The worst-case scenarios were flashing through Daniel’s head: Johnny had gone after Kreese and gotten his ass kicked, he was drunk and trying to sober up before class…

But when the door slid open and a pale-faced and miserable Johnny stepped out, Daniel knew both were wrong.

“Are you sick?”

Johnny shook his head, then winced. “Don’t think so,” he said as he shuffled to the inlaid bench and sat down, propping his head against his hands with his elbows braced against his knees. “Bologna might have turned."

“I told you you should stop buying that stuff,” Daniel said as he fetched a water bottle from the small fridge and sat down beside Johnny, sliding it between his side and forearms.

“Then what am I going to have for breakfast?” he groaned, ignoring the bottle of water.

Daniel lightly wiggled it so it tapped Johnny’s arm and side. Groaning, the other man straightened up so his head was leaning against the paneling and took the water. “Cereal.”

Johnny took a small sip of the water and grimaced. “Milk goes bad,” he said faster but in a much steadier tone.

“Drink it faster. Or have eggs and bacon.”

Johnny groaned and clenched his jaw as his chest heaved painfully. “No more… food talk,” he ground out.

“Duly noted.” Daniel stood again and grabbed a towel, wetting it in the sink and laying it over Johnny’s forehead as he sat back down.

At first, Johnny pulled back in surprise, the towel slipping, but then he caught it and visibly relaxed.

“Thanks,” he muttered, closing his eyes and resituating the towel.

“How are you going to teach like this?”

“It’ll pass.”

“Uh huh.”

“Weren’t supposed to... be here this early,” Johnny mumbled as he shifted in his seat. He winced again then slowly lowered himself so he was lying on the bench, bringing his socked feet to rest on the wood as well. Daniel, who had originally been in the way, just shifted so Johnny could lie down unimpeded.

“That’s not making me feel a whole lot better.”

“’ll be fine by four,” Johnny replied. “Got like... an hour right?”

“Thirty minutes at best, and you know Miguel is always early.”

“’ll be fine by then,” Johnny repeated, somehow sounding so sure that Daniel found himself believing him.

He stood, then lowered the singular shade over the window. “I’ll come get you before class starts.”

Johnny just shook his head, though Daniel had yet to see his posture actually relax.

And yet, twenty minutes later, Johnny was standing in the backyard, dressed in his gi, looking… surprisingly normal. He was still a little paler than usual, but had clearly tried to push some color back into his face, judging by a few fading streaks on his cheeks.

“How?” was all Daniel could ask. The last time he’d had food poisoning, it had taken him four days and a trip to urgent care before he could leave his bedroom without puking.

“Mind over matter,” Johnny mumbled, straightening up as the kids began to stream in through the door.

That was… bullshit? Unbelievable? Incredible? But at the core of it, so very Johnny.

The kids were so caught up in the latest non-karate drama at the high school that none of them shot Johnny another glance. He did look at Daniel, grinning genuinely, and mouthed, “Thanks.”

Daniel just nodded, then set out doing the last bit of preparations for class.

A * A

If Johnny was being honest with himself, he should have known something else was wrong. His stomach had been hurting all day, even though he’d barely eaten anything since dinner yesterday: fried bologna, ketchup and some leftover rice Carmen had brought a few days ago.

But there was too much going on for him to be sick. There was getting the kids ready for the All-Valley, so they could once and for all remove Kreese from Cobra Kai—not that Johnny would be reinstating that name anytime soon anyway; his budding relationship with Carmen—which Miguel still did not know about; and the knowledge that Robby and a handful of his other students were doing who-knew-what under Kreese’s command.

There wasn’t any time for his problems.

So he’d taken a Tums last night, not really understanding how that had shown up in his medicine cabinet, and tried to sleep it off.

He’d shot awake somewhere around two, tangled in a thin sheet, sweating so badly it felt like he’d just come in from a run. But something else was wrong. His face felt too hot, the skin too tight, and his stomach continued to flip lazily, despite him begging it to stay where it was.

He’d cranked up the fan, and sipped some water, which was a mistake.

His stomach had rolled and he was puking up his meager dinner not long after. He sat there for a long time, head leaning against the cool seat, until he’d fallen asleep. He’d woken again when his forehead slid off the toilet and thudded into the vanity.

He was cool this time, freezing, and shit, that was signs of a fever. That much he knew.

He did not have time for this.

Still on his knees, he managed to reach the shower dial and turn it on. Then he crawled into the tub, clothes still on, and sat there, letting the cool water beat on him while he shivered uncontrollably.

He could not get sick. This had to be a twenty-four hour thing. The kids all came in with their runny noses, who knew what they got into at school. Maybe it was time he caved to LaRusso wanting hand sanitizer stations on the way out for those germ-minded kids.

Eventually the freezing water had become unbearable and he barely managed to reach back high enough to turn it off. Then came the more difficult task of stripping off his wet clothes, which he ended up doing still sitting in the tub, because the act of fighting with his clothes while standing seemed rather exhausting.

But then, he did have to get up, and it took everything he had to stay that way. His head swam and his stomach lurched.

That was when he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach around his navel.

No way this was some sort of flu.

He was reminded of Miguel pulling the package of bologna out of the fridge and frowning at the date. “This is over a week old, Sensei.”

“It’s fine,” Johnny had said.

Miguel had looked a split second away from pitching it, but had put it back in the fridge and chosen the bag of pretzels on the counter instead.

So this was food poisoning. It had to be.

He’d be in for a rough night, but it should be over by tomorrow, when he needed to be at the dojo, when he needed to be on.

The knowledge didn’t make his illness any easier, but it had made it manageable. He’d thrown up a few more times; felt his stomach cramp so severely, it doubled him over; and had eventually fallen asleep on the bathroom floor, ankles bracing the toilet, head leaning back against the far wall.

He didn’t feel better, per say, when he woke, but good enough to haul himself out of the bathroom, change into a loose shirt and sweats, and into the kitchen where he sipped at some OJ, literally the only thing in his entire kitchen that didn’t send his stomach rolling again.

At some point, he’d passed out on the couch watching TV and had jarred awake two hours before class.

He had to be there.

So he’d dry swallowed some aspirin and chewed another Tums, begged whoever was up there to keep them down, and headed out with the OJ tucked under his arm.

He’d barely made it to the dojo when his stomach began to cramp again, induced by the shifting horizons while he was driving. LaRusso found him and his once-nemesis had been surprisingly gentle. When he was better, Johnny owed him more than just a quick thanks for being decent about it, instead of leaving him to suffer on his own.

He’d had to pull over on the way home to puke again. Though he didn’t know what he was bringing up at this point. It was all acid and gunk from what he could see.

He was less than a mile from his apartment complex and he sure as hell wasn’t walking, so he slid back into the car, focused with all his remaining energy and went approximately ten miles an hour in the righthand lane the remaining way.

His fever was kicking up again as he parked, and his stomach began to ache with new intensity. He barely made it to the couch before he was retching again into the bowl he’d so left there earlier for just that purpose.

His head was pounding, his ears ringing, and the pain in his stomach had shifted so it was on his lower right side. He’d bruised a kidney before and it’d hurt in its own way, but it had been nothing like this. He hadn’t even fought anyone since Kreese. Couldn’t risk injuring himself and getting benched. Not with everything that was at stake.

It felt like he was getting the massage from hell, but inside, down in his guts. They were churning, dancing, twisting, oblivious to the pain they were causing. His actual organs hurt, however that was possible.

He sipped at the water, and immediately retched it back up.

Somewhere deep down he knew that was bad. Knew he needed to stay hydrated. Knew he hadn’t drunk enough the past eighteen hours. Knew he could replenish some of it from the shower, but it was so far away.

He just leaned his head against the arm rest, shifting until he found an angle that didn’t make him violently nauseous, and must have passed out.

It was only when he woke up that he knew something was seriously wrong, and that he had to get some help, and ended up passing out again in front of Carmen’s door.

Only it hadn’t been Carmen who answered.

“Sensei!” Miguel shouted, trying and failing to catch the older man. “Mama! Yaya!” he shouted as he dropped to his knees beside his Sensei, whose face was red and flushed but otherwise seemed uninjured.

“Sensei, please.” Miguel begged, tapping Sensei’s face and feeling the heat radiating off it. “MAMA!” he yelled again as he jabbed his fingers into Sensei’s neck, finding a thin pulse.

Then arms were on his shoulders, pulling him away, as his mom replaced him.

“¡Llame una ambulancia!”

Yaya was telling him to back up, was shoving her phone into his hands.

He didn’t remember making the call, but he must have. His mom was trying to rouse Sensei, had unbuttoned his shirt, and was swearing.

“Qué pasa?” Miguel demanded, but she didn’t answer.

“Ice, Miguel,” his mom was ordering, still bent over Sensei. “Quick!”

His feet were moving, grabbing whatever frozen vegetables they had in the freezer and handing them to his mom, who was placing them around Sensei’s neck, under his arms, around his groin.

Sensei groaned, flinched, but didn’t rouse.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel heard himself ask, but his mom was telling Yaya to take him in the apartment instead of responding.

“No!” he shouted, planting his feet. “I'm not leaving.”

His mom turned to look at him, a bit of panic in her eyes before she could hide it. “Go inside, Miggy. Please,” she said very carefully.

As much as Miguel didn’t want to, he did. Until he heard the sirens. Then he was outside the door again, watching as the paramedics swarmed Sensei.

They were asking his mom a bunch of questions and she was rattling off the answers. Then Sensei was on a gurney and they were rolling away and his mother was climbing into the ambulance with him, and then they were gone.

Miguel felt Yaya’s arm wrap around his upper back, not tall enough to reach his shoulders, and he turned and buried her head into her shoulder, letting the tears fall.

[writerman]

Bard never thought that much of Thranduil's top surgery scars, he was told Thran had surgery, and they never bothered him, so that was it. Until Bard finally asked Thran how he got the scars. Thran just gives Bard a look. (Trans Thran, you can throw in my boi Elrond if you want XD.)

//This one is close to my heart for very obvious reasons. Thank you for letting me write this and I hope you enjoy it. 

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

Scars.

Everyone had them.

All different kinds, from all sorts of injuries- embarrassing or serious.

Life gave you scars, some people were proud of them and others sought to hide them, overall most of the time they weren’t anyone else's business but your own.

Well… all of the time.

People can share stories of their scars with you but only if they want that, you cannot demand the story of another person’s body, nor will they ever be obligated to tell you anything about the world that lives on their skin or under it.

Thranduil had scars.

Scars on his chest, one healing and almost invisible on his forearm. They were faint silvery things that Bard only noticed when they were close.

The discussion of scars never came up between them in conversation, and honestly, Bard never thought it was any of his business.

Though he could not deny he was curious, still, he never mentioned it, curiosity needn't be spoken out loud.

Bard and Thranduil had not been together all that long, a couple of months, they met at the tail end of winter, the last dregs of the winter festivals loitering on the outskirts of the city, looking more menacing than cheery now that Christmas had passed by.

The grey slush had soaked Bard from his shoes up to the calves of his jeans, but he’d trudged dutifully through the snow with his youngest sibling to take her to see the reindeer that lay sullenly at the far end of a dreary paddock.

Tilda was far too involved with naming the reindeer to notice that her older brother’s attention was elsewhere.

A literal angel that had descended from the Heavens was leaning over the paddock fence watching the animals intently as though his gaze might will them to their feet.

It did not and eventually, they gave up, as they turned they caught Bard’s gaze and gave a shy smile before trying to hurry off through the slippery slush.

He’d had half a mind to follow the stranger but even the allure of smooth skin and long blond hair could not pull him from his tiny sister and her joy at seeing “Santa’s reindeer”. They remained at the fence for another 10 minutes before Tilda complained she was cold and Bard offered to take her to get hot chocolate to warm up.

Tilda had taken a seat by the window with her mug of hot chocolate leaving Bard to navigate a chair through the packed cafe, he sat quietly while Tilda chatted about the animals and the names she gave them, meanwhile, Bard could not shake the feeling of awe that had struck him at the sight of the blond stranger.

Sadly, he didn’t see him again that day.

They bumped into another a few weeks later, Bard instantly recognised him and stood in panicked silence as the blond apologised for not watching where he walked- after a long awkward pause Bard cleared his throat and did something he had never truly imaged he’d have the courage to do.

He spoke to him.

“I saw you- uh, at the winter festival.” He blurted out his voice croaking midway through his sentence, mortifying really, he would have to spend the rest of his life living as a hermit in the mountains now…

The blond just nodded as though Bard pointing out the obvious was the norm for him like he had expected this for some reason, the same shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he looked away.

“Ah, you were really staring at those reindeer.” Again, words came forth and he was wondering if his brain had actually engaged with the rest of his body that morning when he left the house, it seemed not but the blond responded this time with actual words.

Good LORD that voice could restart a heart.

“They looked sad,” Three words and Bard already knew he was done for, who sounds like that and looks like that- this whole beautiful package?! “I was trying to work out if I could come back that night and steal them.” He seemed sincere and Bard had to take a moment to relearn how to breathe as he choked on air.

“So… did you?”

He never got an answer instead he received a very rushed query that sounded something along the lines of ‘Wouldyouliketograbcoffee…. Youcansayno.” After deciphering the code Bard accepted the offer and they headed to the closest place for coffee.

Once in the warmth the blond opened up a bit and apologised for not introducing himself.

His name was Thranduil.

“I’m Bard, it is really nice to meet you, Thranduil.”

And that was how they met, they had had coffee and then remained in contact until a mutual friend forced them to ask one another out.

Even after 4 months Bard still couldn’t quite believe his luck, some mornings, after Thranduil had stayed the night Bard would roll over to watch the other sleep and he’d have to pinch himself to make sure the whole scene was real and he wasn’t just enjoying a ridiculously vivid dream.

Silly maybe, but Bard did really feel so incredibly lucky.

He realised quickly that Thranduil was a quiet man, always seemingly deep in thought, never sharing the contents on his mind as though the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe was to keep it bottled up in one head until one day something clicked.

That’s what Bard imagined, that had a complex system of thoughts and feelings zipping through his mind at a thousand miles per hour leaving him reeling but unaffected on the outside.

It was not fair to put him on a pedestal like that, he knew deep down if he ever voiced his thoughts that Thranduil would be hurt and he wasn’t sure why, it just felt wrong that he assumed the other was on the side of Godhood than mortal man.

Maybe in a past life…

The blond had a flair for art, thought stifled by his family and their expectations of him. Always needing to be better, to stand taller, to speak clearer and only to speak if the words held meaning- a scary way to live wondering if your words meant anything to those that surrounded you on a daily basis.

Asking to pass the salt would likely end up in a conversation about the wealth of the earth if that was how he was to live.

Bard hoped it was a slight embellishment the information Thranduil fed him, the tiny morsels of his life at home revealed with one sentence at a time but as soon as the blond realised he was talking about home he shut down.

There were times Bard would be studying frantically very last minute for an exam, his masters was important but not important enough to study in good time for a test,… at 29 years old he still lived like a teenager but with more bills and more responsibility, and suddenly he would be presented with a sketch of himself his hair wild and falling in his eyes as he leaned over a book gripping a pen a little too tightly.

Thranduil often explaining that it was always a pleasure to draw him while he studied or even slept, though he would quickly add that he hoped he did not “appear creepy” at the admission that he had, indeed, watched him sleep once or twice just to draw him.

“All in the name of art!” Bard would quip, he would then proceed to smother the blond with kisses- though if things got too steamy Thranduil would stammer out excuses before putting some distance between them.

Apologies would come from both of them but the air would remain tense. It was usually around this time that Thranduil would take his leave and head home claiming he had forgotten some important appointment with his family or doctor.

He saw the doctor a lot, and it worried Bard. Yet, he did not pry.

It all came to a head one summer night, they were walking back from a garden party/BBQ hosted by the same mutual friend that got them together, both of them on the right side of buzzed from the few drinks they had.

He wasn't sure why he brought it up, the lack of intimacy in their relationship and his constant doctor's visits.

“We have intimacy it just isn't sexual. I know it isn't enough for you,” The words came out wrong and sounded accusatory to his own ears. “In truth, it isn't enough for me either.” Thranduil trailed off and looked away, he couldn't find any other words to further explain himself.

His gaze stayed on the floor for a moment to shield himself from Bard's curious and intense gaze.

“Tell me about you, what bothers you. Share the burden, you don't have to do this alone.” Bard grabbed Thranduil's hand giving it a supportive squeeze, smiling when the blond finally looked up at him.

“I'm so scared of how you'll see me if I tell you who I am.”

“You're Thranduil, my boyfriend and sketch artist extraordinaire!” They both laugh and Thranduil seemed more at ease but fear lingered in his now glassy blue eyes.

It was now or never it seemed.

“I've seen you look at the scars on my chest, I know you're curious and honestly thought you'd work it out from that but… now I'm seriously thinking that you just look at me adoringly and don't think what things are only that they are there.” A weak and nervous laugh escapes Thranduil, his hand is damp in Bard's and he pulls it from the other's grip.

“Well…” Bard began a small smile forming as they continued to walk back towards his flat, Thranduil was half right. It had never occurred to him that they were close enough that he could ask- he knew they were in a romantic relationship and that generally they could be more open about themselves but to Bard it still seemed inappropriate to ask about something like that.

Scars were something intimate and secretive about a person, a story that they may have buried deep within themselves almost repressed so as to not relive the memories every time they saw the reminder in their skin.

They way Thranduil spoke it was as though he wanted Bard to ask, perhaps it was easier to explain if someone asked than to broach the subject completely out of the blue and unbidden.

Quite the quandary, Bard was well aware that his boyfriend was notoriously secretive about many things, many personal things aside from his general interests and whatnot.

To ask him now was bold but if he didn’t he may lose the chance to try again later. The alcohol in his system buoyed his confidence to a degree and with some hesitation pushed on and bit the bullet.

“I do want to know- I see them all the time and I am curious as all Hell what they could be from. I just…,” He stopped speaking trying to grasp at words all the while they continued to walk now in an awkward silence both holding their breath for a moment. “How do you even bring up the conversation of scars without sounding like an ass with no tact?” Thranduil laughed as soon as he heard Bard’s reasoning for remaining shy on the subject and he grabbed his hand to squeeze it, clearly happy that his boyfriend was just as unsure as he was at times.

Though it never really showed, the uncertainty he certainly harboured. Bard seemed untouchable in his enthusiasm and courage, constantly looking out to the horizon and following the edge of the world rather than looking at his feet and watching his every step.

Never brutish in his words or actions, not overly gentle but capable of comfort- he had a calming influence simply because he seemed so confident all the time.

Thranduil felt lucky to have met such a man by chance, and he didn’t want to think about the future especially if Bard was not in it- there was a flutter of hope in his chest that once he explained what he had been through things would not change. But such an outlook felt entirely too positive for Thranduil and he dampened down the hope so that his expectation fit with who he felt he was and how he came across to others.

There had never been a time he had enquired as to how people saw him from the outside looking in, that would require speaking to a lot of people and he already felt tired thinking of doing so.

“They are surgery scars.” God, the words had come out in one breath and he felt his inside seize up as Bad whipped his head round to look at Thran, his eyes darted to his shirt then back to his face before speaking.

“Surgery scars, were you unwell?”

Thranduil gave a noise that could be construed as ‘Well…’ but nothing more, after a moment of silence Bard spoke again.

“You can tell me, I promise you that everything will be fine.”

That was not a promise Bard could make not with the nature of the surgery, instead it would open a whole other can of worms, Thranduil felt stiff with fear, the process of rigor mortis setting in before he’d even died from the sheer fear of what he was doing. HIs heart had never beat so fast.

“For a long time I believed I was sick, that there was something horribly wrong with me but I was not sick I just didn’t have the words to describe who I was yet.” He was drawing this out unnecessarily and it wasn’t helping his anxious heartbeat in the slightest.

“I am transgender, I have not always been known as Thranduil and the scars are from surgery to sculpt my chest to appear more masculine.” The stunned silence that followed was sickening, it felt heavy and cold in the pit of Thranduil’s stomach and he felt tears sting the corners of his eyes.

Then there it was! Bard’s grip tightened on Thranduil’s hand the squeeze of comfort he had always offered until he realised he was being pulled round to face his boyfriend.

They were stood at the foot of the path that led to Bard’s front door.

Their eyes met.

“This changes nothing- Thranduil, I love you, I can’t even think of enough words to get across how much I love you. I know you’re scared, I mean, you’ve just told me something huge something important to you and honestly I feel honoured that you trust me with this.” Bard wasn’t sure what to say, for all he knew Thranduil was the first transgender person he had ever met, he couldn’t be sure but he was definitely the first transgender person who had openly told him that about themselves.

Rather than hanging around outside while the blond felt so vulnerable, he tugged Thranduil into walking again and they went inside.

Thranduil remained quiet for a long time, Bard moved about the flat a moment before returning with a glass of water for Thranduil who accepted it gratefully.

“I- want to ask a question but I think it is too forward,” Even as he spoke Bard regretted the words but Thranduil had a knowing look in his eyes, as though he had expected a certain question before it had even been voiced.

“You want to know if this is the reason we haven’t had sex.” His tone flat and he took a sip of water, one hand clenched into a ball rested on his thigh the other holding tightly to the glass, at that moment he looked exhausted and Bard was at a loss on what to say.

So, rather than saying anything he sat next to Thranduil and covered his balled fist with his hand giving a light squeeze- the blond needed time and he absolutely needed an apology.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t necessary for me to question you on that- I can’t just assume things about you.” There were many things he wanted to say but wording them seemed hard now, or at least accusatory and that was the last thing he wanted.

“No, it’s fine, really… it is the reason but the fact you just jumped right to that as though, as though it was something that was wrong and not just nerves. I can’t expect you to be perfect about this if you don’t know anything.”

“You’re right to be upset, I wasn’t exactly delicate about it, and I shouldn’t have questioned you at all. Google is a thing, you don’t have to tell me anything, I want you to know that you have the freedom to tell me whatever you want or not.” Finally Thranduil set down the glass eyes red and glassy still he wanted to cry with relief that this man still loved him the fear in the back of his mind that leached into his heart and stomach was subsiding- how terrified he had been to think that Bard would toss him aside for ‘lying’ to him this whole time.

But no, his Bard as not like that. His Bard wanted to learn and understand and his Bard treated him like a human, as a man.

“I love you.”

[gumnut-logic]

Gentle Rain (Part Three)

Title: Gentle Rain

Warm Rain Series

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Author: Gumnut

20-21 Jan 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes it is so gentle, you don’t realise it is happening.

Word count: 2522

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, OC, spoilers for Warm Rain up to this point in the timeline.

Timeline: Six months after ‘The Proposal’, almost a sequel.

Author’s note: This is for @scribbles97 . Thank you to all my wonderful readers and supporters who continue to help me create more and more stories. I’m having the time of my life, you guys are wonderful :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“Doctor Harris..uh...”

His face had shuttered the moment he realised he wasn’t alone and she oddly missed the openness he had displayed while speaking with his brother. He had very expressive eyes and they had said so much about the relationship between the two men.

Her voice was quiet. “I apologise for intruding on your privacy, Mr Tracy.” She swallowed. “Please make sure you continue to follow the diet your doctor has supplied you with. Your body needs the nutrients.” She should obviously back out of what was turning out to be an embarrassing situation for the both of them. She hardly knew this man or his brother, and she had just witnessed a very private conversation. Kayo had been willing to allow her to contact him to check on his recovery. She doubted she would approve of such an invasion of privacy.

“Scott.” He was sitting up a little straighter. “Call me Scott.”

She blinked. “Em.”

And another odd silence descended.

He was hard to read. Before, when Virgil had been in the room, his eyes had said everything. From anger to frustration to fondness. The men had argued, but there had been depth to that argument. They had understood each other perfectly. The darker haired brother so obviously sincere when he offered Scott whatever he could provide and the layers of meaning in Scott’s apology spoke of a long history of such arguments..

Now, the man may as well have been Vulcan. Every movement of his face was considered, every wrinkle precisely aimed. The smile was gone, and in its stead lay a controlled calm.

This wasn’t Scott Tracy. This was the Commander of International Rescue.

Well, she could handle that.

“I just wanted to check on your progress. Make sure you hadn’t undone any of my hard work.”

“Well, be reassured, Doctor, I’m back in one piece and well on the way to recovery.”

Her title rather than her name. He was formalising, attempting to push her away from things she should never have seen. She should respect that.

She should.

“How long ago was Virgil injured?”

That shook him. “Why do you ask?”

“He’s favouring his right side.”

His eyes widened, his concern directing immediately to his brother. “Six months.”

“Severity?”

“Severe.” Reluctant to reveal details, of course. Didn’t matter, she could make a good guess just by observing the man.

“How many ribs broken?”

Those blue eyes narrowed. “Almost all down his right side.”

She winced internally. Bloody hell. “Has he had any follow up recently?”

“He should have. I’ll speak to him.”

With that expression on his face, she had no doubt he would. She may find herself apologising to Virgil in the near future. “Make sure he gets checked out. The ribs could still be vulnerable to strain depending on the original injury.” Hell, the man had been shifting brickwork while strapped into a metal skeleton. She would check him out herself if she got the chance.

“Thank you.” And his eyes were suddenly open to her. “For everything. I have no doubt, I could have died in that hole if you hadn’t been there.”

She smiled just slightly at him. “I was just returning the favour.”

He frowned. “Have you been rescued before?”

She had to admit the question took her off guard and she was forced to look away for just a second. “Uh, no, no I haven’t. I was referring to the world at large. We all owe you and your brothers more than we can ever repay.”

It was his turn to look away and, to her surprise, he even flushed a little. “Someone needs to do it.”

“Yes, but you stepped up.”

“It was our father’s project.”

Yes, everyone knew about the great Jeff Tracy. “But it is you and your brothers who are on the front line.”

“As I said, someone has to do it.” He took in a breath and tilted his head. “Enough about me, you obviously know a great deal already, yet I know very little about you.”

Well, she guessed she had asked for that. “What would you like to know?”

He shrugged. “Where are you from?”

“I’m Australian. Grew up south of here, in Margaret River. You?”

“Kansas. And various other places.” He raised an eyebrow. “Occupation?”

“Doctor, but you knew that. Speciality, orthopaedic surgery.” And she saw the light bulb click above his head. “And yes, that is why I noticed your brother’s injury.” She smiled. “And you?”

“Pilot.” She saw it in his eyes. “And rescue operative, with a little Air Force on the side.”

“You make it sound like fast food.”

To her surprise, he grinned. “Oh, it’s fast alright.”

“I gather you like things that go fast?”

“The faster the better.”

“Uh-huh. Is a Lachie Dart fast enough for you?”

“An L-Dart? Oh, I got my hands on one of those back in training. Smart little craft.” He frowned. “You flown?”

She snorted. “Uh, no, my Dad was in the Australian Air Force. He was the Leader of a squadron of L-Darts. Loved them and let us know repeatedly. Made for a plane filled childhood.”

“I can relate to that. Though on top of the planes came space.” She saw his mind drift back, his expression kind of sad.

“So you come by it honestly?”

“Oh, yes.” The sadness was hovering, but he appeared to shake himself. “What about you? Brothers? Sisters?”

She hesitated. “No, just me.” She didn’t want to go there and definitely not with this man.

His frown returned. “No one at all?” The concept appeared completely foreign to him.

“Oh, I have an uncle in the States, but I haven’t seen him for years.” She shrugged. “I have myself and my friends. I’m happy.”

“That is good to hear.” He suddenly frowned. “Why are you still in the hospital?” And he was obviously trying to think back. “What exactly were your injuries?”

Off screen she clenched a fist. “There were a few complications, but I’m fine.” She was fine, really.

He stared at her as if trying to pry the information from her expression. She held her ground. She did not want to face his pity or his horror at what had happened to her. It had been her choice, not his.

It was obvious he knew she wasn’t telling him something. “If there is anything I can do, let me know.” He paused, his eyes intensely blue. “I owe you one.”

There was no answer to that. The man was a billionaire, but she wouldn’t ask him for anything. Except...

“Okay, I’ll ask you for one thing.”

His eyes widened as if he hadn’t expected her to take him up on it so readily. “What?”

“You get bored here, you ping me.”

His eyes narrowed.

She sighed. Being a celebrity must suck big time. “I’m not looking for your secrets. I’m not going to sell you out to the press. Get Kayo to check me out, I promise. You can have my credit card to hold for ransom, if you like. I just want to make sure you are okay. And besides, you’re not the only bored person in this hospital. I can only read so much, and the holoreception here is clunky.”

Those blue eyes looked away for a moment considering. They flashed back at her. “Agreed.”

She smiled just a little. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” A pause. “And I hope you get well soon.” Still suspicious.

“I’m planning on it.” She had the irrational urge to reach out and touch his face. “Now rest, Scott.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Doctor.”

“It’s Em. Or I will start calling you Commander.”

“Yes, Em.”

She smirked. “Now you’re talking. Rest. I’ll speak to you soon.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I have no doubt that the moment you wake up next, boredom will set in immediately.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“I don’t have to. You are predictable.”

“What?”

She laughed. “Go and rest. I’ve got a nurse nagging me. Speak to you soon.” The expression on his face was worth the risk of never speaking to him again as she cut the signal. The blank screen left an empty space.

She looked up at Kayo. “Thank you so much for allowing this.”

A hand landed gently on her upper arm. “Not a problem.” She appeared thoughtful. “Now tell me more about Virgil favouring his right side.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil threw himself into the elevator and leant against the wall. It took him a moment to realise that, yes, he had to press a button to make the machinery move. A sigh and he hit the residential level button with a thump.

Mountain rescues were unnerving. This hadn’t been the first one since his accident, but it had been at a similar height with similar land features, and he had spent the entire mission expecting the mountain to fall on him.

He screwed his eyes shut and let his head drop back against the metal wall as the elevator rose. He was aching again. Everything had healed, but it continued to remind him that yes, he had ripped his side open and done some serious damage and no, he wasn’t completely one hundred percent and probably never would be again.

He hated it. It cramped his style.

The car slid to a smooth stop and the engineer in the back of his mind admired Brains’ design as he always did.

The doors slid open to reveal Kayo standing with her hands on her hips. She was still wearing that summer dress he so adored. The material hugged her figure in just the right places, soft and feminine. God, she was so beautiful.

And she was frowning.

Uh oh.

“What have I done?” His tired mind tried to flip back through recent events, landed in snow and got stuck. “No, actually, don’t tell me yet. I need a shower first.” He pushed himself off the wall and held back a groan.

“How long has it been hurting?”

He froze. “What?”

“Your injury.”

He let his shoulders sag. “Never stopped.” A sigh. “It’s fine. I can handle it.” He forced himself to straighten and moved to step past her.

Her hand on his chest stopped him, her left hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Despite himself, he leant into her touch. “It’s nothing, love, I promise. A little ache is all.”

The hand on his chest slipped under the right side of his rib cage and pressed.

He flinched away with an indrawn breath.

Damn.

“Tell me that again, Virgil.”

He closed his eyes. “Okay, perhaps I over did it in Perth.”

“Uh huh.”

“What was I supposed to do. You were under a building. Scott was under a building. I-“ He stopped. “Can I have my shower now?”

She stood up on her toes and kissed him fully on his lips, her arms going around his neck and drawing him in close. He went willingly. “You can, but I’m coming with you.”

He hummed approval, kissing the corner of her mouth, her cheekbone and her mouth yet again.

“But don’t get your hopes up. I’m planning to examine exactly what you’ve done to yourself and then you’re going to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Perhaps he could persuade her otherwise. But another twinge from his side had him sagging again. Who was he kidding?

Her hand brushed his cheek again. “C’mon, love.” She took his hand and led him to their rooms. She stood over him as he shed his uniform, and ran the shower to the perfect temperature. She frowned as her eyes caught sight of his rib cage, but she didn’t say anything further, simply pushing him gently towards the spray.

She left him there and honestly he was grateful, closing his eyes and letting the warmth soak into him. Soap and a clean, shampoo in his hair, the warmth seeping into his bones, his tired muscles. He let himself lean against the tiles and closed his eyes. Take the moment.

Snow rained around him and he flinched.

Damn.

He shoved his face in the spray, rubbed his eyes and turned off the water.

Kay was standing with his towel.

God, she knew how to be silent.

Cotton was wrapped around him and she dried him off, gently against his injured side.

The injury was still a road map of red lines and smudges all down his ribcage. The scar tissue pulled and was thick in places where he had re-injured the road rash from years before. His skin had not been forgiving with the second injury. It puckered and it pained, but he had grown used to it, figuring that it was the price he had to pay for surviving.

Her fingers traced over the lines, passing over numb spots where the nerves had been destroyed only to tingle where they were still active. He shivered.

She lifted his arm up and examined the lines on its underside. Seeing it all in the stark bathroom light impressed him as to how much of a mess he had made of himself and the unsightliness of the result. Her green eyes were intense as she stared at his scars. A sudden sense of shame washed over him.

But Kay was sensitive to his mood and looked up at him, frowning. “What?”

“Nothing.”

The frown deepened.

So he leant down and kissed it away. “I’m okay.”

Her hand landed on his left shoulder and gently pushed him back upright. “No, you are not. Why didn’t you tell me?” And there was the crux of the matter, he hadn’t shared important information with her.

“I didn’t think it was important.”

Okay, wrong thing to say. “My god, Virgil, in what possible way could your health not be important?”

“I didn’t think it was anything worth worrying about.”

She turned her back on him, flinging her hands into the air. “Oh, for the love of-“ She cut herself off, her shoulders stilling for a moment. He suddenly both wished he could see her face, and was glad he could not.

When she did turn around her expression was once again calm. “I will arrange for you to see a specialist in the morning. Tonight, you will go to bed and rest. No rescues.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth. “God damn it, Virgil, if I have to wake up Scott to make it an order, I’m going to let him rain hell down on you for not telling him about this, too. Then you can feel guilty for stressing him out while he is injured.”

He shut his mouth.

So much for not important.

And then she was drawing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “I’m sorry.” The words fell out of his mouth, even though he knew her response.

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it again.” Her voice was muffled up against his chest, her breath warm on his skin. He closed his eyes.

-o-o-o-

End Part Three

Part Four

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Her Secret, Part IV-Jason Dilaurentis Imagine

Requested: Yes

Warnings: some suspense and violence towards animals

 After the night of Noel’s party, things went downhill and fast: A was pushing us to do more, insane things; secrets were extremely close to being revealed; we were put in dangerous situations at least once every week; and on top of all that, we still had to go to school and act as though everything was still normal. Fortunately for me, I was doing pretty well back in Rosewood, minus the fact that when I wasn’t freaking out about A or studying my brains out, my mind would wander to Jason.

   I would wonder how he was doing, if he was okay, or if A had ever decided to pay him a visit. I hoped that he was safe and I felt bad for bringing him into this mess, this mess that he had no idea about. Plus, I felt sick for still having nagging feelings for them. Most days, I longed for the times when I could get extremely intense with a guy and leave with no strings attached. Somewhere along the line, I got attached to Jason and it was bad. I thought I had gotten over him in rehab while I was in Japan. I was so deep in meditation that I didn’t get stressed out when I heard Allison’s name or the mention of firecrackers. But seeing Jason again and nearly kissing him had done something to me.

   “Hello, earth to Y/N?” Spencer asked.

   I blinked and looked at my brunette friend. “What?”    “I asked you what did you write down for who was responsible for the Seven Years’ War? You know Mr. Dawkins only accepts essay-esque answers,” Spencer said.

    We were currently sitting in her living room, going over AP European History homework. When I first told Spencer that I tested into the class, she had been stunned since my grades typically were a C-average, but focusing more on school rather than parties helped me a lot.

    “Oh, yeah, uh, technically Austria started it since they tried to take Silesia from the Prussians, but there was also the conflict between Great Britain and France over colonoization,” I said.

   “Okay, that sounds good,” Spencer said as she jotted it down.

   “Thanks.”

   “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting out of it since you got back this summer. I thought meditation was supposed to make you focus,” she teased. 

   “It did, I just have so much on my mind.”

  “Like?”

  Like the fact that I may be in love with Jason Dilaurentis and I can’t tell anyone and A is manipulating me with that fact.

   “Like college,” I said. “There’s no point in me applying since I’m hardly a Hastings, or an Aria, or an Emily, or a Hanna, I’m just Y/N.”

   “Thank God you’re not a Hastings. I’ve been prepping for the SATs since fifth grade,” Spencer said. “You’re a normal person and you get to worry about that more next year.”

   “Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

   “Yeah, and don’t compare yourselves to us, Y/N. You’re the most confident out of us and you can use that to get anything you want.”

   “You think so?”

   “Yeah, not many four-year-olds have the guts to stand up to a fourth grader when they’re teasing a preschooler,” Spencer said.

   I shrugged. “I don’t like bullies.”

   “Then, how were you friends with Allison?”

   I hesitated. “Because she wasn’t always a bully. She used to be bossy, but I usually ignored her. When she became a bully, I just went along with it but I did my own thing.” I looked up at Spencer. “What about you, Spence?”    Spencer glanced at her phone. “Crap, I’ve gotta go.” She began shoving her books into her bag. “Mom will kill me if I’m late to dinner.” 

   “Uh, okay,” I stood, “I’ll text you?”

   “Yeah, cool.”

   Charlie stood up and sniffed at Spencer. She bent down and stroked his head.

  “See you, Charlie.” 

   When Spencer left, I frowned. She certainly reacted strangely to my question. It was no secret that all of us fell under Allison’s spell, but some of us were worse off than others.

   I turned to the homework spread across the table and sighed. At least I had gotten history done. Maybe diving into schoolwork would help me keep my mind off of Jason. 

   An hour later, I had finished all of my homework and had nothing better to do than play with Charlie. I led him out into the spacious backyard with his favorite green squeaky toy in tow. He continuously jumped on me, trying to get it, but I laughed and held it out of his way.

   “You know the rules, boy.” I pointed and he ran a few hundred feet away. 

   I tossed the squeaky toy and he sprinted after it. He picked up, brought it back to me, and set it at my feet.

   “Do you want me to do it again?”    Charlie barked in response and I threw it a little farther this time, laughing at his eagerness. We played for about fifteen more minutes and the final time I threw it, it went into the forest since our backyard led into the forest. Charlie disappeared into the brush and I laughed at his barking.

    Twenty seconds past, and he hadn’t returned. Then, it was a minute. Charlie never took this long to come back.

    “Charlie?” I called.

    Nervously, I let out a whistle.

   “Charlie bear, did you get lost?” 

   It was only five o’clock but it was beginning to get dark and though Rosewood forest fauna did not exactly pose a huge threat, I had a bad feeling of what might. Quickly, I grabbed my old metal bat from my soft ball days off the porch and marched into the forest.

   “Charlie?” I whistled. “Charlie, where are you boy?”

   I searched for the familiar white, brown, and black fur but all I saw was brown bark and green leaves. As I continued whistling and calling out to Charlie, my panic began to set in. Charlie and I knew this area like the back of our hands and it was unlikely that he would get lost. Something must have happened.

   I didn’t know how long I had been wondering around when I got a text. I opened it and my heart stopped.

    Charlie’s a great sport

     -A

    Along with that A had sent some coordinates. My fingers shook as I typed them into the navigation setting on my phone. Charlie was a couple miles away from me and I broke into a sprint.

    “CHARLIE!” I screamed, tears brimming in my eyes.

    I was terrified, frustrated, but mostly furious. If A did anything to my innocent dog, I’d....I’d.

    Finally, I found Charlie. He was lying in a pile of leaves, the squeaky toy inches away from him. He was whimpering and shaking. I approached him slowly and saw that his front left paw was tucked closely into his chest.

    “Charlie,” I whispered.

    I reached out to touch him with my free hand and he jumped, growling, but relaxed when he saw it was me. Tears began streaming down my face as I stroked my dog’s head. What kind of animal would go after Charlie like that? 

    Suddenly, I got knocked over and sent tumbling away from Charlie. When we stopped, I looked up and saw a figure in all-black standing over me. I reacted quickly and began hitting him with my bat. I got them over the head and chest, but this person was strong. At one point, we were fighting over the bat and they pressed the bat against my throat. They were breathing hard and I tried to get a good look at them, but I couldn’t. They began crushing my windpipe and I couldn’t speak or even defend myself.

    Was this how I died?

    And just like that, my attacker was off of me and I realized it was because of Charlie. He was now biting the assailant and trying to fight him. Unfortunately, Charlie got shoved away and the person disappeared into the forest. I pulled Charlie into my chest and he licked my cheek.

    “You’re a good boy, you’re such a good boy,” I whispered.

    My hand shook as I dialed 911.

   “911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

   “There’s been an incident,” I whispered.

     Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in Rosewood Animal Hospital with my knees drawn up to my chest and several band aids on my fingers and arms since I had gotten pretty scratched up. No one was telling me anything about Charlie, which was making me even more anxious. I wanted to cry and I wanted to beat the crap out of A. I knew it was them but I didn’t know who they were.

    “Y/N!” Spencer and Aria ran towards me, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand. 

    They sat on either side of me and hugged me.

    “What happened?” Aria asked.

    “I was playing with Charlie and threw the toy into the woods. He usually comes right back and...and he didn’t. I got scared and went after him and...and then A sent this.” I showed them the message and their eyes widened. 

    “A hurt Charlie?” Spencer whispered.

    “I am so sorry,” Aria added.

    “Then I found him and...and someone tried to attack me. I hit them a couple of times with a bat but, they almost killed me. Somehow, Charlie was able to protect me and get him off me.” The tears welled up in my eyes. “I get why A wants to come after me but Charlie? He’s just a sweet dog.”

     “Don’t worry, we’re going to find out what happened,” Aria said.

     “You wouldn’t have happened to have gotten a good look at them?”       “Spencer!”

     Spencer shrugged. “It would be useful information.”

     I shook my head. “All I saw was black, no face. But I think it was a man. No girl is that strong to have pinned a bat against my throat.”

    “Good point,” Aria muttered.

    Emily and Hanna came a few minutes later, both extremely sympathetic to my situation.

    “If A is willing to get physical now ,there’s no telling what they’ll do,” Emily said.

    “They went after Charlie,” I whispered.

    Then, they all hugged me and it did help comfort me somewhat. Dr. Allen walked into the waiting room.

    “Y/N Y/L/N?”     The five of us stood.

    “That’s me,” I clarified. “How’s Charlie? Can I see him?”    “He’s in surgery right now. His left leg was fractured quite severely but it looks like he’ll make it.”     I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Doctor.”

   “In nature of the injury, I must ask just what you were doing with Charlie, Y/N?”

   I paused. I couldn’t tell the doctor about A or they might actually kill me.

  “Playing catch, he ran into the forest and got himself tangled up somewhere,” I said.

   “There wasn’t much mud to suggest that.”

   “Well, maybe it was an animal, I don’t know,” I snapped. “All I know is that when I found him, he was crying and whimpering.”

   “And what about your own injuries?”

   “I tripped, I’m a klutz sometimes,” I said.

   Dr. Allen looked skeptical, but she didn’t push any further. “Very well, then. Your parents have been notified and they are on their way. I will keep you updated.”

   I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

   “We’ve lied thousands of times before,” Hanna said.

    “Which means A is winning and after what he, she, it, they, whatever hurt Charlie, I can’t let them win,” I hissed.

    “Calm down, Y/N, we’ll figure something out,” Emily said.

    “We need to because who knows what A’s gonna do next? They could go after my parents or...or someone else we care about.”

    “Don’t you think we’re all scared of that too, Y/N?” Spencer asked. “We need a plan.”

    “A good one,” Aria added.

    None of them had had their oldest best friend sent into surgery, but I decided not to push any buttons. The “spa” had taught me to calm down and reign in my emotions before they got too out of control. I managed to slow down my breathing and sat back down.

   “I need a drink,” I muttered.

  “I thought you were sober,” Aria said.

  “It’s being tested.”

   My night couldn’t have gotten worse.

  “Y/N,” Jason said.

   My eyes snapped up and I stared at him. He looked calm as he stood a few feet away from my friends and me.

   “Jason,” I said, standing slowly. “What are you doing here?”

    “I heard about Charlie and I know how much he means to you.” Jason looked over my injuries. “What happened to you?”

   “I tripped and fell in the forest when I was looking for Charlie.”

   “You’ve lost your knack for lying,” Jason said.

   I smirked and stepped closer to him. “How did you know about Charlie?”

  “It’s a small town, Y/N.”

  “Oh, right.” 

  I wanted to tell him so much right there in that moment, but I couldn’t. Not with my friends who had no idea about our past relationship nor with my emotions.

  “Jason----”

   “Get away from my daughter!”

   My body stiffened as Jason and I both looked at the entrance. My parents were standing there, Mom looked anxious and disappointed while Dad looked as though he was going to explode.