#i know how much we like to focus on two & jamie’s clinging but it’s the same with zoe!!!

[arostormblessed]

Season 6 gang (two + jamie + zoe) literally Thee physically affectionate tardis team. these mfs were constantly holding hands, hugging, leaning on each other, straight up clinging, climbing each other like jungle gyms, and nothing was stopping them. they are cats, they are pack bonded, they are a package deal, etc. keep together do not separate

[renee-writer]

Love Is Composed of Two Souls Inhabiting One Body Chapter 15

AO3

“I must try to sent for them.” Brain looks up from the letter,” If am not to late.”

“Fergus, will you take the children to check out the rest of the house?”

“Oúí papa.” He lads them out.

“Do you think it is to late?” Jamie asks him.

He looks back at the letter. “She wrote this two days ago in her time. It might not be.”

“Brian, of course I want him her, they here. We miss them terribly. But can you? It took a lot out of you to call us and we were closer.”

“I understand your concern Claire. It won’t be easy. In all honesty, it might be to much but, if my last act is seeing to my daughter and her husband, then I consider it an acceptable sacrifice.”

Jamie jerks his head to his da. “We just got you back!”

“Would you rather your á charaid as fheárr die?. Your sister ‘s husband? His stern but loving eyes meet his. “No son, I don’t want to leave you and your family. I would love to see Jenny again, see Ian. I don’t intend to die. But, I also don’t intend o leave my daughter heartbroken if I can help it.”

“How can we help?” Ned asks.

“Picture them. Picture them here.” They all nod.

At the Lallybroch of Jenny’s time, she hovers over her husband. He lays in the bed, unable to move his left side. He is still unconscious. She holds his right hand and prays. Suddenly the air in the room is different. Heavy and seemingly to flow over them like mud. A second later they are on the floor of the Laird’s office with their family, in strange clothes, gathered around them.

“Jenny!” Her brothers arms are around her. She clings to him as an anchor for the insanity.

Claire sees that Brian still breaths, through her is unconscious. Her focus is on Ian. She moves to him, quickly doing an assessment. “When did the stroke happen?” Jenny focuses on her.

“Three days ago.” She see her father, “Christ alive! Da!” She moves over to him. “Claire is he..?”

“He will be fine. The calling of you just wore him out. We need to get him to hospital.” Ned nods.

“I will call an ambulance. But how do we explain?”

She thinks quickly. “Reenactors. They are reenactors. They got lost in their roles and it wasn’t until Ian had the stroke, that they came back to what century they were in.” Ned nods and phones 999.

“What century are we in?”

“The twenty-first.” Brian answers.

“Da!” she runs over to him.

“Mo mighean!” He holds her as close as his weak arms will allow.

“Athair!”

“They are on the way. How is he?” Claire still kneels down by Ian.

“It was a bad stroke. He will need lots of physical therapy. Until he regains consciousness, we won’t be able to affect how it affected his mental health and personality.”

“He is strong.” Jamie kneels by his other side, holding tight to the hand affected by the stroke. “He will pull through.”

The medics arrive. They look at the man, on the floor, in the linen shirt and the woman dressed as a character from the 1700’s. “What do we have here?”

Ned, bless him, steps in. “My niece and her husband, your patient, are reenactors that unfortunately, got way into their characters. When we returned here after a holiday, we found him having suffered a stroke. Ian Murray and Janet Murray. She was just came back to herself and freaked a bit at her husband’s condition.”

“I see.” The other medic was down beside Ian, taken vitals. “Can Mrs. Murray tell us when the stroke happened.”

“Three days. I am sorry. I don’t know what happened to me. I was just.. can you help him?”

“His vitals are stable,” he replies after he gives them to him, “That is good. How old is Ian?”

“Forty-nine.”

“We are taken your husband into hospital. You are welcome to ride with him.” She looks frantically around.

“I will. I am his sister-in-law and a nurse. Janet is still.. it would be better if she rides with my husband and her father.”

“That is fine.” He is placed on a stretcher and carried out. Claire follows.

“I need to be with him!” She argues with her father.

“You will be after we get you into some modern clothes.”

“Like the strange breaks and shifts that Claire is wearing?”

“We have some dresses, if that would be better.” Jamie helps him up as the noise of the bairns and puppy returning enters ahead of them. Faith stops dead at the sight of her beloved auntie.

“Auntie Jenny!” She is equally shocked at the half grown lass in front of her.

“Faith?” She runs over and throws her arms around her. Jenny holds her close. “Mo bhráther darling, I never thought to see you again!”

Bree grows bold enough to approach, holding Rory’s hand. “Auntie Jenny?” She looks up at the lass she had last seen as a wean and the little lad she doesn’t know. “This is Rory. Our brother.”

“Lord, Jamie he is you!”

“Aye.” He swells with pride.

���Where’s mama?”

“She went to the doctor with your Uncle Ian. He is sick.”

“Is that why grandsire brought them here?”

“Aye Faith.” She is so smart, his little lass.

“Papa, we need to get her in something else.” Fergus says. She turns to him.

“Fergus! Lord look at you, a man grown.”

“Aye Aunt Jenny.”

“ You are quite right. I need to get in something that blends in. For I must get to Ian.”

He looks to his papa and grandsire. “He had a stroke. Your mama went to hospital with him. We need to join them. Will you see to the bairns?”

“Aye. “

Jenny was lead to the other room, where Ned had stocked modern clothes in many sizes. After some trial and error, she figures out how to dress herself in a modern dress. With part of her legs exposed, she feels strange. But the breeks would have been worse.

Ned and Brian both are concerned by her reaction to a car. Her worry for Ian should help mitigate the strangeness. They lead her out, while Jamie keeps his arm around her. Her eyes turn huge at the sight of the car.

“What, on earth, is that?”

“It is what is going to get you to Ian.” Ned says.

“It is a car and how we travel in this time.” Brian adds.

“It is a horseless carriage and, I ken it is strange but it moves fast and I will be right beside you.” Jamie assures her.

With that reassurance and the necessity of getting to Ian, she allows them to lead her into it. Jamie straps her seatbelt as Claire had done for him. When the engine starts, she grabs his hand. “You are sure this be safe?”

“I wouldn’t put you in danger and neither would da.” She nods but keeps a tight hold on his hand and her eyes closed until they stop at the hospital.

He keeps her hand as they walk in. Her eyes dart everywhere, taken in the strangeness around her. The beeping machines, the strangely dressed people, the frantic pace. Ned takes charge.

“We are looking for a Ian Murray, brought in by ambulance with a possible stroke.”

“Are you a relative?” The nurse asks.

“I have his wife, brother -in-law and father-in-law with me.” He gestures for them to step forward.

“You are Ian Murray ‘s wife?”

“Aye, Janet Murray. Where is he?”

“The doctor will want to speak to you. Just one minute.” They stand close together, instinctly isolating Jenny, as much as they can, from the strangeness around her.

A minute later, a man in a white coat and blue scrubs, comes up. “Mrs. Murray?”

“Aye, I am Mrs. Murray. Ian, is he..?”

“It is alright to talk around these others?”

Her eyes flash. From just being in her time by his bed less then two hours ago, to this strange time and place, separated from her heart, she is at the edge of all she can take. “They are family!”

“Alright them. Your husband has suffered a major stroke. He was brought in far to late to administer anything to break up the clot that probably caused it. We like to treat within the first hour or so.”

“Will he live?”

“Yes. But the extent of the effects won’t be known for awhile. We have him in the ICU. A neurologist, a physiotherapist, an occupational therapist, and a speech and language pathologist as well as a team of nurses, will all be working with him. He is slowly coming to. Your sister is with him.”

She didn’t understand past anything but, he will live. It is all that matters now. The rest will be sorted, in time. “I need to see him.”

“Of course but someone needs to go to registration. He doesn’t have a NHI card.”

“I will see to that. I am his father -in-law. My daughter needs to see her husband.”

“Of course.”

The ICU is on the third floor. This leads to another problem. How do they explain her reaction to the lift? Jamie, who is used to the strange way to move between floors, holds her against him, explaining in a hushed Gaelic, what is going on as they enter the lift. The doctor assumes he is comforting her about her husband. The doors open and they enter a whole new world.

Glass walls allow the medical staff to see their patients. The patients all lay on beds attached to the machines that monitor them, giving them what they need to stay alive, get better, until their bodies and minds recover. Jenny sees Claire but can that be Ian? What have they done to him?

“The machines are monitoring his vitals and brain activity. As you can see, his EEG, shows the waves of brain activity. What we can’t determine until he regains conscious, is if there is any forgetfulness, if his personality has been affected.”

She has no idea what he’s talking about. All she cares about is getting to him. Claire sees her and stands. She walks out and comes out to her. “Claire, how is he?”

“I know it looks scary but he is really doing okay.”

“I need to..”

“Come on, let him know you are here.” She less her in and sits her down where she had been sitting. “Take his hand. Talk to him.”

“He can hear me?” Her eyes take in the oxygen mask over his face, all the lines, the beeping machines. Everything is strange. But she trusts Claire. After Ian is better, she will have her explain all she doesn’t understand.

“I believe he can. It can’t hurt.”

Nodding, she takes his hand unnaturally slack. “Ian, I am here, my heart. Claire says you will be alright. You must be. I need you. Our life isn’t finished yet.”

In the waiting room, Brian sits with his son. Ned had left to get Fergus and the children. “We haven’t had time to catch up.”

Jamie laughs, a bit shakily. “Catch up, eh, as I thought you dead.”

“I am sorry about that mhac. Truly. How was I to explain..?”

“Why da? All this? My Claire coming to me. Fergus and I going to her. The bairns. Now you and Murtagh, Jenny and Ian. I accepted it from her. There was, from the beginning, a trust between us, so I just.. but all this. There has to be a meaning.”

“Aye son. Traveling, it is in our blood. Why you attracted a fellow traveler in Claire. It serves a purpose, yes. To right wrongs. I have traveled to stop battles, to see that certain people were born, by making sure the parents meet and, to see that others aren’t.”

Jamie is shaking his head as Murtagh returns from the strange loo.. He stands against the wall. “We tried to do that though. Claire and I. We tried to stop Culloden.”

“I know. Something’s are to destined to stop. Your urge to, though, shows that the mission, it is in your blood too.” He sighs and stands, “The people that Claire has saved, those who would have died otherwise, the children, they wouldn’t have been here and who knows how they will change things. Ian would have died. Murtagh also.” He stands straight and looks at Brian.

“Of the damp?”

“Aye. You need to be here. For Jamie, Claire, the children, I am not sure. But, someone will need you.” Back to Jamie, “Fergus, the way you have changed his life. I know you wished to stop the Raising. But, trust me Jamie, you have made a difference.”

Ned enters with Fergus and the bairns. “What did you do with Penny?” Jamie asks him.

“I dropped her of at my house. My maid is seeing to her until.. How is he?”

Jamie shrugs as he takes his son on his arms. Rory is tired and places his thumb in his mouth as he curls up on his papa’s lap. “I couldn’t say. The doctor told Jenny a bunch of things but, I don’t understand what they mean.”

Brian can’t stop looking at his grandchildren. To see his son’s children, it is a miracle to him. Brianna sees him and walks up. “Grandsire, may I sit on your lap?”

“Aye.” He smiles hugely as he lifts her up. “Brianna, you were named after me.”

“Yes sir. Papa says he was sure I was to be a lad and I would have been named Brian. But as I was a lass, mama suggested Brianna.”

“It is beautiful. Faith, do you know the story behind your name?”

“My parents wanted me to have a name that showed what they were thinking. They had Faith that what they were doing would make a difference.” She looks at her papa.

“Your parents have made a difference just in having you. “

“Yeah, us and Fergus.”

“I was rescued from a very bad place. I was Claudel, in Paris. Papa gave me a Scottish name and his surname.”

“I am glad as it gives me another grandson.” Fergus stands straighter at being accepted by his papa’s father. It is then that Claire enters. All the adults eyes turn to her.

“He is awake.”

[number-one-micoverse-fan]

“Beware the Fury of a Patient Man”

Quote by John Dryden

Dom’s on a mission. And he’s not going to stop until he sees it through to the end. Even if it costs him. Warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries, angst, gun violence, acts of violence against children

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Dom wrestled the gun away from his assailant and slammed the butt of it into the man’s head. Then he did it again. And again. And by the fourth time there was blood splattering hot and fresh across his hand and the man wasn’t moving.

It took a minute to catch his breath again, casting a wide-eyed gaze around him to make sure no one had come running to investigate the noise. But the yard remained dark and undisturbed, and Dom climbed to his feet, legs shaking, clutching the gun in his hand tight enough to make his fingers ache with the grip. He was already tired, his body sore and drained from tracking the van all the way out to the run down house outside of town.

But he wasn’t going to leave without doing what had to be done.

Breathing shallow to muffle the noise, Dom crept around the back of the house, his steps as light as he could make them on the dry grass. There were only a few lights on inside, filtered through grimy windows and barely lighting the night. None of the windows were open and Dom didn’t dare try them, expecting them to creak or at least make too much noise for him to safely enter. There was a sliding back door, however, and Dom pressed himself against the side of the house, squinting through the dirty glass to try and see what was inside. An empty dining area, cluttered with garbage and broken chairs, and what looked like a kitchen, cleaner but only just.

Dom bit his lip as he hooked his fingers into the door handle and carefully applied pressure. It stuck, at first, and then gave way with a low hiss and a dull creak. Dom froze, ears straining to listen for footsteps. When nothing happened, he eased the door open further, squirming through it, trying to suck in his stomach, his back scraping against the threshold. He thought about leaving the door open, making an easy escape route, but if someone noticed then it could spell trouble if they suspected an intruder was in the house.

There was muffled laughter from somewhere above him, the sound of floorboards shifting under foot, tangled with the dull buzz of a television or radio.

Good, they were distracted.

Dom didn’t know how many there were, but he hoped they were all in the room upstairs.

He moved quietly through the house, sticking close to the walls and trying to move only when there was an influx of noise. It felt like it was taking him hours to make his way towards the sounds, even longer on the stairs, and more than anything he wanted to charge down the hall and kick the door in like an action hero. But he kept his slow and steady pace, heart pounding in his chest, mouth dry, palms sweaty where he gripped the gun.

The sound of the television was louder, coming from a cracked open door at the end of the hall, blue light flickering across old floorboards.

Very carefully, Dom nudged the door open further, blinking in the brighter light of the room. His gaze swept over the room, searching. There was a television on an old shelf against the opposite wall, backlighting the three adults sitting on the couch, laughing and chattering to one another. Dom eased forward, trying to see into the shadowy corners, and the floor creaked under him.

He froze.

“Ey, Jamis, you get them beers already?” One of the men on the couch turned to look over the back of it towards the door. He frowned when he didn’t see his friend, but Dom, his mouth opening to call out.

Dom pulled the trigger.

Blood exploded out of the man’s skull and he went flying off the couch to crash to the floor.

The other two were on their feet in an instant, one of them throwing himself forward in front of the couch and the other diving over the armrest to roll away. Dom followed the one who’d jumped the arm rest with his gun, firing off a few more rounds, splinters from the wooden floor erupting where he missed.

A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn and he saw the first man scrambling to his feet. Dom aimed the gun to fire but his hand froze, finger brushing the trigger without pulling it.

Because as the man rose to his feet, he had someone else with him.

Cody.

The boy was wrapped painfully tight in duct tape, a piece pressed over his mouth, bucking against the hold of the man whose arm was around his neck. There were tears streaking down Cody’s face, his eyes wide and terrified, rolling wildly until they locked on Dom. Then he made a desperate sound behind the tape and Dom could only hear his son’s voice desperately calling for help.

It made white hot rage over power the cold fear in his heart.

But before he could move, the second man dived at him, knocking them both to the floor where they scuffled. The man sat on his chest, pinning him to the floor, and grabbed Dom’s wrist that held the gun, slamming Dom’s hand into the floor over and over, trying to get him to drop it. Dom snarled at him, using his free hand to try and claw at the man’s face. The man twisted away from him, taking a second to punch him in the face a few times until Dom’s head was spinning. He felt his grip on the gun weaken and a growl escaped him. His head darted forward and he sunk his teeth into his attacker’s arm as hard as he could.

The man screamed, trying to wrench away and beat him off. Dom took the opportunity to throw them both to the side, rolling over so he was the one on top, and tried to point the gun at the man’s head. The man struggled, shoving at Dom’s face and clawing at his throat, trying to strangle him.

“DROP THE GUN OR I KILL THE KID!”

Dom froze, head snapping around to stare up at the first man.

He was still holding Cody pressed against his chest, an arm around his neck. In the other hand he held a gun pressed against Cody’s temple.

The man under Dom shoved him off and wrenched the gun away, kicking Dom in face as he got to his feet. Dom felt his nose crunch and coughed as blood splashed down his face, eyes watering with pain.

“Shiiitt,” The second man hissed, checking the gun, “This guy killed Zach! And probably Jamis too, I think this is his gun.”

“Just kill him,” The first man lowered his own gun, but kept his grip on Cody who was still struggling and thrashing, “We’re gonna have to burn this place down anyhow, it’s been compromised. We can—OW! WHAT THE FUCK!”

“Hey! How the hell did he do that!?” The second man abandoned Dom and ran around to the front of the couch to see what was going on.

Dom took the opportunity to scramble to his feet, breathing heavily through his mouth. The first man had dropped Cody, who was now squirming backwards across the floor as best he could, and was more preoccupied by the second captive. Milo had sunk his teeth into the man’s ankle and wasn’t letting go, even when the man started kicking and punching at him. What was astounding was that Milo had clearly been gagged with duct tape too, remnants of it still clinging to his face. There was blood on his face too, but it was hard to tell if that was from Milo or from the man he was biting. The second man was pulling at Milo’s legs, trying to pry him off, but that only had the first man screaming at him to cut it out and pry the little shit’s mouth open.

Dom wasn’t going to let them lay another hand on those kids.

He launched himself over the back of the couch with a roar, shoving the second man down hard enough that he smashed his head into the shelf and lay on the floor groaning. Before the first man could level his gun, Dom snatched the one from the second man’s limp hand and fired. The bullet punched the first man in the stomach, making him stagger back. While he was recovering, Dom shot the second man in the head and scrambled to his feet to charge the first man, the last enemy standing.

But his opponent was quicker.

There was the crack of a gunshot and Dom felt something hot and sharp bloom in his side. Another one ripped into his shoulder and his arm dropped limply to his side. Dom ignored it. There were more important things to take care of.

He screamed at his son’s kidnapper, firing his own gun again and clipping the man’s leg. He dropped to one knee and Dom bowled into him, sending the two of them sprawling. Both of their guns flew from their hands. The man yelled and squirmed, punching at Dom, but Dom barely felt the blows, his one remaining hand clawing at the man’s face through watering eyes, blood, and wailing fists. Teeth scraped his knuckles and then his fingers found a fistful of the man’s hair. Dom clenched it, pulled the man’s head up, and slammed it back into the floor as hard as he could. His opponent shouted and his hands paused their wild punching, one of them remaining to claw stupidly Dom’s shirt.

Dom could only see red, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He lifted the man’s head again and, again, slammed it into the floor. And again. And again.

Distant pain wrenched in his stomach but he shoved it to the back of his mind. His only focus was on getting rid of the monster that had hurt these children.

He slammed the man’s head down again. And again. Again, again, again. Even when the body under him stopped moving, he kept mindlessly smashing the broken skull into the floor, blood soaking his hands and staining his jeans, his breathing labored and wheezing.

It was only a sniffling whimper that snapped him out of it.

“Cody…” He croaked, looking around.

The boy was curled on the floor, eyes squeezed shut, shivering and crying. Dom staggered to his feet, wincing and putting a hand to his front, only to have his fingers bump against the handle of a knife. Ah. He’d been stabbed.

Gritting his teeth, Dom pulled the knife from his stomach, choking down the pained noise that wanted to leave him as blood rapidly stained his already ruined shirt. Couldn’t let Cody know how hurt he was.

Breathing heavily, Dom dropped to his knees next to his son and put a hand on his shoulder. Cody started and pulled away, eyes snapping wide open.

“Sh, sh, Cody, it’s okay, it’s me,” Dom murmured. His touch had left a red hand print on his son’s shoulder. He tried not to think about it, “I—I’m going to cut the duct tape. It will probably hurt, I’m sorry.”

He slid the knife carefully into a gap and began to saw at the tape, first cutting loose Cody’s arms, then his legs. Peeling the tape off did make Cody whimper and fresh tears sprout in his eyes, but he took it like a champ. Dom was extra careful with the piece of his mouth and as soon as Cody was free, he threw himself into Dom’s arm, sobbing into his chest. Dom winced at the pressure on his wounds but wrapped his good arm around his son reassuringly,

“I’m s-sorry I didn’t come sooner. It’s okay now. You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe. Will you h-help me with Milo?”

Cody sniffed and nodded, clutching at Dom as the man shuffled across the floor to kneel next to Milo. The kid was a lot more battered than Cody, blood oozing from a split in his forehead where he’d been kicked, matting his hair, one of his eyes already swelling shut. It looked like he’d ripped through the duct tape on his face with the edge of something sharp because it had cut into his cheek, leaving it to bleed freely down his chin and into his mouth.

“A nail,” Milo explained with a feral grin while Cody picked the remains of the tape off of his friend’s face and Dom cut him loose, “It was sticking out of the floor a little and I used it to rip off the tape!”

“It’s probably infected,” Cody said in a shaky voice but he was smiling as he helped Milo to his feet. Dom smiled tiredly at the pair, leaning heavily on the wall as he stood up, one hand pressed over the hole in his stomach. There was a slice in his side, hot blood still leaking down his pant leg, and his shoulder ached something fierce, but it was worth it. The kids were safe.

“Let’s get outside,” He said weakly, making sure to keep a smile on his face when they looked at him. He followed them out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door where he sagged onto the steps with a sigh. The van was parked in the drive and he’d thought to take it and drive them home but he was too worn out now; probably wouldn’t have been able to stay awake for the journey. He reached a shaky, blood soaked hand into his pocket and tugged out his phone,

“C-Cody…need you to call…call…” His vision blurred and he heard his son shouting his name and then Dom fell into darkness and knew nothing at all.

———

He woke up in in a white room with tubes and wires attached to him and a dull pain throbbing distantly through his numb body. Sleep tugged at him, urging him to go back to sleep again, but Dom struggled against it as his bleary gaze roamed around the room.

Miranda was slumped in a chair behind him, asleep, circles under her eyes and her hair in the messiest ponytail Dom had ever seen. She looked beautiful. Like an angel in the white room.

He shifted slightly to call to her when he felt something warm and heavy pressed against him. He looked down slowly and felt instant relief and comfort and warmth fill him.

Cody was tucked against his side, cleaned up and with a few bandages, but looking none the worse for wear. His hands were fisted into Dom’s blanket, head against Dom’s chest, having squirmed carefully under Dom’s arm. His glasses were crooked; he’d probably fallen asleep with them on.

Dom smiled, very faintly, tiredly, and let himself relax. His eyes closed.

They were safe.

Everything would be okay.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

Ice Skating

Klaroline Bingo as hosted by @klaroline-events Prompt // Winter

/

Caroline Forbes was single, and proud.

Being single allowed her to go wherever, whenever, and with whomever she wanted.

She didn’t have to worry about checking in with anyone. She could stay out all weekend if she wanted, and she could stay in whenever she wanted too. She could focus on her career, and herself, and didn’t have to worry about treading on any masculine toes.

There had been a time where she flitted from boyfriend to boyfriend, thinking it was what she needed to be happy. But the older she got, the more she realised she was just happy being with herself, and if the right person came along, she would know.

So yeah, Caroline Forbes was single, and loved it.

But every now and then, as rare as it was, there were days she hated it.

On that particular day, for instance.

It was the day of the whenever-it-works-out friend reunion. A day when Caroline, her entire friend group and their partners got together to have a big, boozy lunch - free from kiddies and responsibilities.

Her friends were dotted around the country by now, so their reunions were rare. This one Caroline had actually organised, seeing as she was the only Chicago local in the group. They had decided on Chicago some months earlier, because some of her friends were coming to Chicago to visit their brother anyway, and it wasn’t much of a stretch for the remaining couples to descend upon the city as well.

Caroline was rightly looking forward to it, it wasn’t often her friends-who-are-parents were able to let loose.

So imagine her displeasure when, she got a harried phone call from one of her friends the morning before the reunion was due to take place.

Because, for some reason, ‘single’ seemed to be friends-who-are-parents language for ‘convenient babysitter’ when they needed time out from their rowdy young ones.

“Please, Caroline,” Elena begged. “The service we hired to mind all the kids cancelled. None of us have been able to go out for months!”

The blaring implication was there; Caroline could hear it in her friend’s plea.

‘Please, Caroline. You can be stuck with children for one day. Going out doesn’t mean as much to you.’

Caroline had been an odd mix of hurt, and – dare she say it – relieved that she was being shouldered out of lunch, because her friends-who-are-parents needed a babysitter.

She was hurt for obvious reasons. Didn’t matter that she wanted to hang with them.  Didn’t matter that she organised the reunion. Didn’t matter that it was her rallying that got them all together. She was the most expendable. Because she was single, she wasn’t a mother; she didn’t need it as much.

But she was relieved because, no matter how much happy she was living her single life, her coupled-off friends usually couldn’t manage to keep their opinions of her singlehood to themselves.

She bitterly rolled her eyes, thinking about how they would like it if she passed comment on their lifestyles with kids, made judgements about their marriages.

“Fine, but you better remember this next time you ask me why I’m still single,” Caroline agreed, haughtily. “And I expect a pretty awesome Christmas present.”

On the morning of the reunion, her small, not-particularly-kid-proof apartment was over run by her five excitable nieces and nephews, and their eight excited-looking parents.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Bonnie gushed, happily, as she stepped through her front door, beginning the slew of compliments for Caroline’s selflessness.

“Care, this is so amazing,” Jeremy said, appreciatively.

“Caroline, you’re a lifesaver,” Elena grinned, gratefully.

“Yeah, barbie, love your work,” Damon quipped, sardonically.

“Care, you truly are the best friend,” Rebekah smiled, thankfully.

“Yeah, Caroline, I know you’ve been looking forward to today as well,” Stefan thanked, profusely.

“We are very much in your debt,” Elijah nodded, graciously.

“I don’t know what all you are on about, Caroline is the reason these things are fun, and you’re making her babysit your kids!” Katherine griped, but threw her friend a relieved smile.

“Not a problem, guys,” Caroline said, with all the grace she could muster. “Now, how are my favourite rugrats!”

The five children chorused their enthusiasm in exuberant cacophony, making all nine adults smile widely at the cuteness.

Before too long, however, eight of the nine adults took their leave, leaving Caroline to wrangle the little ones on her own.

Now, Caroline may not have been a mother, but she knew her way around children.

She babysat her way through high school, then nannied her way through university. Plus, the first baby had been born into the group less than a year after college ended. Plus, Caroline had known all these children since they were born, and just as she was the cool friend in the group, she was the cool aunty.

That experience, coupled with her unrivalled ability to plan the perfect day for any group, Caroline knew the day with the kids would go off without a hitch.

She had every activity planned out, and every item she’d need for each activity in colour coded boxes. She’d only had a day’s lead time, or else she’d have sent each parent a list of things they should pack, to ensure best-day-ever status from the children.

Though, minding all five at once was getting more challenging as the two eldest, Jeremy and Bonnie’s, Rowan, and Elena and Damon’s, Jessamy, were now ten, so endless craft activities didn’t hold the magic it once did.

But never fear, Caroline set up stations for the children to run between, which included every winter activity she could think of; paper snowflake cutting, drawing, Twister, and, the group favourite, gingerbread house decorating.

Each child chipped in making lasagne for lunch, and laughed their way through a team challenge of baking chocolate chip cookies.

They all watched a movie after lunch, munching on their cookies and gingerbread. But by the time 4pm rolled around the kids began to get fidgety, and the lack of a back yard on her apartment suddenly became and issue.

Never fear, however, because Caroline had a contingency for this, as she had for every eventuality.

“All right, kids,” she called, clapping her hands together to get their attention. “Jackets, shoes and socks on, please, we’re going on a special trip. But you have to promise to be extra good okay?”

While the kids eagerly donned their outwear, Caroline quickly shoved snacks, and two thermos’ of hot chocolate into a big bag, before donning her jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves. 

“Let’s go ice skating!”

xxx

“Okay everyone!” Caroline called, as all five kids stood with their feet all clad in skating gear. “Are we excited?”

A squealed response later, Caroline gave them her brightest smile and the green light to take off.

She knew she was taking a bit of a risk with this trip, but she also knew Bonnie and Jeremy took their kids skating often so she wasn’t worried when the two youngest Gilberts, Rowan and Penny, took off immediately. Elena and Damon’s daughter, Jessamy, was a little less confident, but it didn’t take long before she was off after her cousins in a flurry of snow. Stefan and Rebekah’s, Jamie, was also already quite the competent skater, which left Meg, the youngest of the cousins, to tentatively cling to Caroline’s hands as her wobbly skating legs took to the new activity.

But before much longer, even Meg was chasing after her older cousins, just leaving Caroline to grip the railing at the edge of the rink.

“Come on Aunty Care!” Jessamy shouted, excitedly. “You have to skate too! We need six if we want to play this game!”

Caroline felt a wave of trepidation cross over her, she was content staying stationary, thank you very much. She may have been an incredible cheerleader in her day, but that skill did not translate to skating ability. That was a lesson she’d learnt the hard way on her first college date, where she had ended up with concussion and a broken arm as a result.

“Umm, I’m not very good at skating, guys. Can I just watch?”

“No!” came the rousing protestation.

And Caroline, of course, obliged, unable to bear their sad, puppy dog faces for longer than a few moments.

“Fine,” she groaned, cursing herself internally for taking them skating when she knew full well she couldn’t skate.

Caroline shakily put her legs onto the ice, and immediately began to wobble. Rowan and Jamie took her hands encouragingly, and pulled her further onto the ice.

And right as Rowan let go of her hand, Caroline felt a figure zoom past her, too big and too fast to be one of her group, and she cursed the blasted skating trip again, as all hell broke loose.

Caroline’s legs tangled up with Jamie’s and they crashed to the ground. Penny fell onto her knees trying to stop herself crashing into them, leaving Jessamy to crash into her. From there, Meg started to cry seeing all her family in a confusing muddle on the ice, and the Gilbert siblings took it upon themselves to start yelling about whose fault it was.  

Caroline cursed the damn trip a third time, as she contemplated the complete impossibility of scrambling to her feet – because, did she mention, she was terrible at skating – while in the middle of a clusterfork of wailing, potentially injured children.

Then an unfamiliar voice joined the ruckus.

“Do you need a little help, love?”

Caroline froze.

The kids froze.

“Excuse me?” Caroline asked, as she stared at the man who was intruding on quite an embarrassing moment.

He was god-tier-handsome, and Caroline nearly rolled her eyes that this would be the way she met someone who looked like him.

“I asked if you needed a little help, love?” the man repeated. “After all, it’s not everyday a beauty, such as yourself, falls – quite literally – at my feet?”

The flustered Caroline balked at the absolute gall of this man. Sure, he was hot, but ‘a beauty falls at my feet’.

J

E

R

K

That was for sure.

“Now you listen here, buddy –”

She was about to give him a true fairly uncensored piece of her mind, but was cut off when Jamie suddenly cut over top of her.

“Uncle Klaus?

The man’s somewhat smug-and-charming smirk was replaced with a look of confusion.

“Jamie Mikaelson, why are out here all by yourself?”

“But he’s not by himself, Uncle Klaus!” the boy’s cousin cried. “I’m here too!”

“And me!”

“Me too!”

Klaus was suddenly quite squeamish to note every single one of his nieces and nephews were in the pile of small children he had vaguely noted when he stopped to chivalrously aid the blonde beauty who had toppled on the ice.

And he had to admit it was not ideal.

Sure, he loved his family, and fully intended showing up as the cool uncle when they were older – but he was not good with kids at all, and was at a loss with how to proceed.

“Wait, you’re Klaus Mikaelson?” the blonde asked, as she began struggling to her feet.

“That would be me,” he replied, weakly. 

“But why the… why are you… oh my gosh!”

In her attempts to clamber up and talk at the same time, Caroline planted her ass firmly on the ice again with an unceremonious ‘ooof’ – much to the amusement of the little ones surrounding them.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” Caroline grumbled. “Come on, we should try and get up. Why don’t we take a break? I packed some hot chocolate for us to drink.

The kids agreed without too much fuss, the older ones helping the younger ones to their feet and skating to the edge.

“Do you need some help, sweetheart,” Klaus asked, as Caroline still struggled.

“I’m good,” Caroline said stubbornly, proceeding to struggle for another minute.

“Do you need some help?” Klaus asked again, this time with a cool, quirked eyebrow.

She just threw him a disgruntled look, but stuck out her arms for him to take nonetheless.

When she found her balance, she kept her hand squeezed tight to Klaus’ forearm, much to his enjoyment.

In the short skate from the centre of the rink, where the incident occurred, to the edge, Klaus got his kicks by unbalancing Caroline, to provoke the small whinge from her throat, and the tightening on her grip on his arm.

When they made it to blessedly dry land again, Caroline jumped back into babysitter-mode, passing each child a steaming drink and telling them not to stray too far away, before turning her attention back to Klaus.

“Why the hell did you barrel me over on the ice?”

“I did no such thing, love!” he replied indignantly. “You were the one to strayed into my path.”

“That is so not how it happened!” Caroline cried. “Why are you here anyhow, aren’t you some big grouch who hates fun?”

“Is that what they say about me is it,” Klaus said, waspishly. “I’ll have you know, that I am perfectly fun, thank you very much. And I quite enjoy outdoor ice-skating. We did it lots when we were children, and my siblings visiting reminded me of that.”

“How sweet,” Caroline said mockingly, though she noted the slight change in mood, and the wistful look on his face. “Wait, you went skating because you’ll miss them?

Klaus didn’t say anything, but his ears reddened, and she knew she had hit the mark.

“I’m Caroline, by the way,” she said, changing the subject.

“Klaus.”

“I had worked that out.”

“Why are you here, Caroline?” Klaus asked. “Didn’t you organise some great catch-up?”

“Well I did, but the sitter bailed,” Caroline said. “And you know, I’m the only child-free friend, so…”

“I see,” Klaus replied.

“Caroline, can we go back on the ice,” Penny whined.

“Oh, sure thing, sweetie,” Caroline said. “Take care of the little ones though, okay, I’m not going to go out this time.”

“But Aunty Caroline, you gotta,” Jessamy sulked.

“Please Caroline!”

“You have to!”

“I’m so bad at skating,” Caroline implored, for some reason, looking at Klaus, hoping he’d back her up.

“Why doesn’t Uncle Klaus teach you!” Rowan said, ever the pragmatist. “He’s a grown up! Grown ups are good teachers!”

“Well, doesn’t that sound like fun,” Klaus said, that smug-and-charming smirk coming back to his lips in full force.

“Yeah! Then we can have seven players for the game! That will be even better!” Rowan cried. “Come on!” 

With that, the eldest cousin was off, and all the younger ones following closely behind.

“Please, you really don’t have to do this,” Caroline said nervously, even as she got to her feet to follow the children at a slower pace.

“Oh I think I do,” Klaus said. “The children have spoken.”

“But…”

“No buts, Caroline, my nieces and nephews don’t take no for an answer,” he said, then leaned in to whisper almost seductively into her ear. “Neither do I.”

She couldn’t help the tingle that ran through her body at that, nor the wry curl beginning on her lips.

It wasn’t too long before Klaus’ out stretched hand was closing on her own, and he was pulling her onto the ice, teaching her the basics. And less time still before he was settling his hands on her waist behind her to help her ‘keep her balance’.

“You move quickly, don’t you,” she quipped.

“Only when I know I’ve got something worth moving for.”

It was only another ten minutes until the kids found their aunt and uncle, and demanded they join in their complicated skating game. And then just an hour before they were back at her apartment, having skated themselves completely exhausted. And then only thirty minutes before the parents were back.

It was only a few minutes after they all arrived that they found out that Klaus had joined them for skating. And then only a few of seconds before Katherine made a semi-drunk, very-lewd comment about Caroline and Klaus sitting in some sort of plant, doing some sort of natural act together.

And she wasn’t far off the mark, for it was only a day later when Caroline heard from Klaus.

And only the day after that when they went on their first date.

 /

Hope you like! Happy Klaroline bingo!! xoxo

[eccentricextrovert]

In Defense of Jamie Wellerstein

Before I start with this post I have to preface it by saying two things. Cheating is never okay, and just because I believe that Jamie was overall the least at fault for him and Cathy’s relationship failing, it doesn’t mean that I’m not acknowledging that what he did was wrong. I’ll also be discussing this in chronological order (with the exception of goodbye until tomorrow) so if you don’t know the order I’d suggest that you look it up.

Shiksa Goddess

I’m going into this assuming you’ve at least seen the movie, so we’ll start with Shiksa Goddess. There’s two problems that a lot of people see in Shiksa Goddess. His childish demeanor, and the fact that he says “I think I could be in love with someone like you”. It’s easy to look at this line and assume that he never really loved her, which a lot of people do see it as. Something that makes just as much sense, and makes both things sound a lot better, is remembering that this is the beginning of the relationship. He’s probably not in love with her yet honestly, and yah he’s really childish and playful, but that’s because he’s deliberately trying to make her laugh. It’s exciting for him!

Moving Too Fast

I know I skipped I Can Do Better Than That but I’m discussing everything for that song under I Could Never Rescue You/ Goodbye Until Tomorrow. There isn’t any major controversies for this song that I can see so I just want to point out how much context this song gives Jamie’s character in all. He went from in the same place career wise as Cathy to suddenly successful in two seconds, and a lot of their issues stem from that problem. He calls Cathy mid song to say he’ll move in with her because that’s the logical next step. He’s in love with her, he’s now financially stable, why not move in together, right? Even though he wasn’t sure before, Jamie feels like it’s what he’s meant to do at this point, which is the case for a lot of his actions. He’s immature and a lot less experienced than Cathy when it comes to serious relationships, and he follows what’s expected of him.

Climbing Uphill

Climbing Uphill is the song that cements exactly why they don’t work, in various ways. Cathy’s extreme insecurity with herself is put on full display here, as well as her failures in her career. In no way is it her fault that she hadn’t made her big break yet, but the way she handles it is different.

Cathy sees her relationship with Jamie as a competition, at least in regards to their careers. She can’t handle that he’s already getting all of the praise for his work that she craves for hers, and she just keeps being put down at every turn.

It’s particularly telling that while he’s doing a reading of his book, all she can think about is her own insecurities. She’s at an event that’s about him and all she can focus on is how she has to be successful too, instead of taking a moment to support him. It’s something that happens a few times in the movie.

Another thing is the excerpt Jamie is reading. It’s about someone who’s so focused on what he’s doing, and trying to win, to the point where it’s suffocating, and he can’t even hear the person he’s competing with tell him “don’t let me win”. It’s an interesting parallel for Jamie and Cathy’s relationship.

The Schmuel Song

Okay so this song is really pure so there isn’t much to talk about, but it does show more about their relationship. When Cathy feels down Jamie is there to lift her up, doing whatever he can to make her smile, and telling her to quit her day job so she can focus on what she’s really passionate about. Jamie gives in the relationship, and throughout the movie Cathy just takes. It isn’t intentional, but the relationship isn’t equal.

A Summer in Ohio

Cathy defines herself by her relationship with Jamie, but resents other people doing the same. In this song she’s trying to pretend everything is okay even though she hates where she is, and she’s clinging to Jamie. Her relationship with Jamie gives her worth in her eyes, and she sees him as above her in a way, as evidenced in the lyrics: “Look at me, look at him, son of a bitch I guess I’m doing something right. I finally got something right.” She maybe miserable and stuck in Ohio, but hey, at least she’s married to Jamie. She clings onto this even further with the lyrics: “and Mrs. Jamie Wellerstein. That's me!” It’s ironic that she puts emphasis on her marriage to Jamie when all she’s done prior to this is reject the idea of just being a wife, but it makes her feel slightly better to think that at least she has him. It’s a very stark difference from Climbing Uphill.

A Miracle Would Happen

This song has been talked about to death, honestly. The only things I’d point out are that everyone has temptations, and he didn’t act on them at this point. Jamie was never prepared for people to be throwing themselves at him in any way, and he does stay faithful at this point because of his love for Cathy. He’s tempted, but he loves her and he shows it. Still a gross song though, I’ll admit it.

A Part Of That

Cathy keeps pretending everything is fine in their relationship, emphasizing further and further that she’s just happy to be in his life, when she obviously not. It’s an act. She’s unhappy that Jamie is so successful and that she really isn’t a part of that success, despite what she says, and the resentment continues to grow.

If I Didn’t Believe in You

Aaaaand here’s where I start having a lot more to say.

This is the point where it’s clear the relationship is doomed, if it wasn’t already clear before. Cathy completely shuts down here, giving up on the relationship. This song isn’t Jamie upset that Cathy won’t go to a party, it’s him frustrated because time and time again she refuses to support him in the same way he’s supported her, and though it’s the point that breaks the relationship ultimately, it’s also the point where it could’ve been salvaged.

In the song Jamie begs Cathy to just talk to him about everything, because he’s been there for her and wants to continue to be there for her.

“Is it really about a party, Cathy?

Can we please for a minute stop blaming

And say what you feel?

Is it just that you're disappointed

To be touring again for the summer?

Did you think this would all be much easier

Then it's turned out to be?

Well, then talk to me, Cathy

Talk to me

If I didn't believe in you

We'd never have gotten this far”

Jamie directly asks, even begs Cathy to just speak to him, and throughout the entire song she responds by leaving the room, walking away from him and the argument, not even speaking to him.

Jamie is desperately begging for Cathy to stay with him and just work this out, and she keeps shutting him down and shutting him out. He genuinely believes in her and in the relationship. This fight is the product of the entire musical, of every fault in their relationship, and he’s trying to say what he’s been pushing since the beginning. He believes in her. He’s been fine with giving this whole time because he knows she can be something special, but her own insecurities and doubt and jealously have been slowly eating her alive.

Every time he moves one step forward, she moves one step back. That’s the theme of their relationship. It’s everywhere, from the story structure, to the literal lyrics, to the excerpts from his book. They can’t both be happy at the same time. She’s been letting herself fall as he rises.

She may not ever say it, but all of her actions point to the conclusion he draws. She wants him to lose so that she can finally win. It’s not a conscious thought, or something she’d ever admit to herself, but it’s their dynamic. He gives and she takes. She loses and he wins.

He’s yelling, trying to reach her, but she keeps ignoring him. Even bringing up their wedding, and the promise he made to her, that they made to each other, does nothing. He begs her to put on her dress not to go to a stupid party, but so they can move past the fight. He’s the one that’s putting in the effort to fix things. Jamie is the only person who ever brings up the issues that separate them. Cathy just wants to pretend that none of their issues exist.

Nobody Needs To Know

I’m just gonna say it. I understand why Jamie cheated. I don’t condone it or agree with it, and I think the relationship should’ve ended long before this point, but his motivations weren’t inherently bad.

Jamie wanted to feel something. Cathy and Jamie’s relationship was incredibly toxic on both ends, and he was tired of switching between being iced out or having to pretend everything was fine. Jamie’s cheating is so clearly not about sex, but most people ignore that because of his earlier thoughts.

In ‘A Miracle Would Happen’ Jamie is longing to be with other women, but it’s clearly about attraction. The language he uses and the framing of all of the shots makes it clear that it’s about sex there. It’s easier to resist cause it’s just a pretty face or a nice pair of boobs.

In ‘Nobody Needs To Know’ it’s tender and remorseful. There’s not a trace of the Jamie we meet in ‘Shiksa Goddess’ who was so full of life. Jamie is tired, and he’s angry, and he just wants to feel something.

The way this song is directed is beautiful, and further helps illustrate this point.

In ‘Shiksa Goddess’ Jamie was confident, and things were fun for him. He was clearly dominant and he was constantly making jokes to lighten the mood. Everything is filmed to make things very bright. It’s clearly exciting for him.

In ‘Nobody Needs To Know’ Jamie is painfully aware at every moment that what he’s doing is wrong, but he can’t bring himself to care anymore.

His body language is consistently submissive. He’s being reassured. He needs comfort and he’s finding it in the worst place. He’s desperately clinging to any human contact, anyone that can be present, because Cathy’s stopped doing that. It isn’t even the fact that she’s physically away, but the lack of the calls that they used to have when she went to Ohio. Everything about his relationship with Cathy that he loved is gone, and he’s seeking anything he can get from anywhere he can get it.

“Cathy is waiting...

Look at us, lying here

Dreaming, pretending

I made a promise and I took a vow

I wrote a story

And we changed the ending

Cathy, just look at me now!”

He feels awful about what he’s doing and he doesn’t for a second try to justify it, acknowledging that his mistakes are deliberate now. Even just compared to other musical theatre songs about cheating (*cough* Hamilton *cough*) it’s so clearly not about the actual act. It’s interesting that Jamie is so villified, to the point where there’s articles calling him the “worst musical character ever”, when he’s so clearly remorseful.

See I’m Smiling

This is Cathy’s song to reach out to Jamie, at least in a way. She’s still pretending nothing is wrong, but she finally realized just how far they’ve drifted from each other.

The problem with Cathy is that even when she’s trying to reach out she’s still distant. I feel awful for her, but I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if she would’ve accepted his offer of coming back on Monday. Cathy cannot physically handle Jamie’s career getting in the way of things again, and it’s pretty much over from here. Ironically, this is the only time Cathy is open and honest about how she feels in the whole musical.

Cathy believes that Jamie is self absorbed, and calls him out on it, as well as his flirting. The “little girlfriends” comment is entirely justified at this point, but honestly? I wouldn’t call Jamie a selfish person. In every instance where he’s made things about him, it’s been about his career. He values his career, but he’s also been pushing Cathy towards hers.

The only instance in The Last Five Years where Jamie isn’t there for Cathy when she needs him is this, and it’s after she made it very clear that she doesn’t support his work. The only time Cathy ever took pride in Jamie was in ‘A Summer in Ohio’, which is the only time that she’s had something close to a success, and even then she hates what’s happening. Meanwhile, the only time Jamie hasn’t been there for Cathy is this. The entire movie all Jamie does is uplift Cathy to get every part of him eaten away, and this one time he chooses his career above her, and even though he tries to find a compromise she won’t listen.

Cathy is a good person, but at this point in her life a relationship with Jamie just can’t work. It’s been dragged on for too long, and if it keeps going it’ll consume both of them.

I Could Never Rescue You/ Goodbye Until Tomorrow

Jamie couldn’t face Cathy to leave her. If Jamie had tried to talk about leaving it would’ve ended up another fight that went nowhere, and another fight that nothing got done in. He still loved Cathy. If he didn’t still love her these songs wouldn’t have been combined.

Jamie left Cathy alone in a house she couldn’t afford, with nothing but a letter and his ring. It was a dick move, but it was the only way it could’ve ended. The letter was a call back to ‘I Can Do Better Than That’, and not just in the way that most people take it as. Jamie was literally saying that Cathy could do better than him, whether it be alone, or with someone else. Cathy couldn’t have continued to grow in their relationship, and neither could Jamie. They were stuck at at impasse. Their entire relationship was incredibly unhealthy and the only thing they could do was split.

Divorce is a long process. There’s countless papers to sign and lawyers to meet with, and Jamie left Cathy, not the other way around. He cheated on her and then left her. Cathy is a hundred percent getting fat alimony checks.

Jamie loved Cathy though. Jamie gave everything he had to their relationship, constantly picking Cathy up when she was down. Leaving her was probably the hardest thing Jamie did in his life, but he had to do it for both of their sakes. With Jamie gone Cathy can grow into the person she was meant to be. Neither of them will suffocate each other this way.

I just really don’t understand the people that claim that Jamie didn’t love Cathy. Everything he did was for her. He put everything he had into their relationship and got nothing out of it but being with Cathy. Even his book, the thing that drove them apart, the only thing he held above her, was dedicated to Cathy.

[the--highlanders]

1. Delicious

on ao3.

The crowd milled around Jamie, engulfing him, masses of creatures – of people, he reminded himself – towering over him until he had entirely lost his bearings. He stared after a few of them as they went by, first one, then another, wondering where they came from and where they were going. Some were laden with brightly-coloured bags, others heaving crates or rattling cages, and still others bustling to and fro in smart uniforms. Not one of them paid him any mind as they passed, too concerned with their own business. Once or twice, he opened his mouth to speak to someone as they passed, but they were always gone before he could think of what to say.

Just wait there a minute, the Doctor had said. I shan’t be long. But he had been gone a good deal longer than a minute, and the more Jamie replayed his words in his mind, the more he began to chafe at them. He was not a child, after all. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself, even if he was alone on a strange alien planet. And if the Doctor was happy to wander off without a second thought, then surely there was nothing keeping him from doing the same. He stepped forward – bumped into some towering creature that seemed entirely made up of transparent tentacles – yelped at the sudden, inexplicable pain that lanced up his arm – and stumbled backwards into someone else, spluttering and shaking his head.

“Good gracious, Jamie.” That someone spun him around to face them, fussing over his shirt collar and smoothing down his sleeves. The paper bags they held in one hand brushed against his chest, leaving a greasy mark there. “Are you quite alright?”

Of course it was the Doctor, Jamie thought. Just as he had began to think that he might be able to cope on his own for once. But the crowd was even more daunting now, hemming the two of them into their own little bubble, and he ducked his head to grin bashfully up at the Doctor. “Aye, I’m fine.” Even as he spoke, his hand twitched violently of its own accord, and he stared down at it in wide-eyed alarm. “What just happened?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about it.” The Doctor waved his own hand, as nonchalant as if people’s bodies moved on their own all the time. “Humans weren’t meant for contact with the Thryx, that’s all.”

“Eh?”

“That fellow you bumped into just now.” Jamie glanced over his shoulder, scowling after them. “Oh – oh, no, it’s quite alright, it isn’t their fault – it’s just a little residual electrical energy. They can’t help it, it’s simply how their nervous system works.”

“Oh, aye.”

“It’ll wear off soon enough.” Flashing him a triumphant smile, the Doctor held up the pair of bags he was holding. “I know I’m a little late, ah – there was a terrible queue.”

All Jamie’s earlier irritation was draining away from him at the sight of the Doctor’s earnest expression. “That’s alright.” He made as if to bump his elbow against the Doctor’s, but his limbs felt swollen and clumsy, and he settled for knocking their hips together instead. Only after he had stepped away did he realise how intimate the motion had been, and a shudder ran through him, as powerful as the one the Thryx had given him. “I dinnae think I’ll be able tae hold it, though. Can we sit down?”

“Ah – yes, of course.” Taking his arm, the Doctor wove through the crowd with a deftness that belied his usual clumsy nature, ducking and weaving past the taller aliens until they reached the fountain at the centre of the great plaza. The liquid spraying from the top was too thick to be water, falling back into the basin in great purple globs. It was hardly a picturesque sight, but something about the motion was oddly soothing, and Jamie was reluctant to tear his eyes away as the Doctor pressed him down onto a bench. “There we are.” He leant back, folding his arms behind his head and tilting his face up to let the light of the suns fall on his eyelids. “So, what do you think of your first intergalactic port planet?”

Busy, Jamie wanted to say – but that hardly captured it. “It’s like -” He swallowed, his cheeks reddening at the thought of saying something so silly to the Doctor, but he pressed on. “Back home, we used tae go down to the beach to collect seaweed, right. To put on the crops. An’ one time, when I was a wee lad, I walked out into the sea. Only got up to my chest in it before athair – before my father came an’ pulled me out, but – och, I’m no’ makin’ sense, am I?”

The Doctor had opened his eyes again to watch him with a strange sort of softness in his expression. “You’re making perfect sense.

The way the Doctor was looking at him made his heart flutter uncomfortably in his chest, and he swallowed thickly, looking down at his lap. “No, I’m no’,” he said, carefully lightly. If he could turn it into a joke – if the Doctor was joking too – then he would not have to think so hard about why every nerve in his body felt like it was burning. “But that’s what it feels like. Like goin’ into somethin’ so much bigger than yourself, an’ ye feel like ye might drown.”

“That’s a rather charming way of putting it,” the Doctor said. His tone was equally light – but his words were equally careful, as if he were picking his way along the same precarious path that Jamie felt himself struggling to cling to. Perhaps he was – or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. “Now – yes, the pastries. We shouldn’t let them get cold.”

He held out one bag for Jamie to reach into, but the opening was too small for Jamie’s still-unresponsive fingers, no matter how hard he tried to force them inside. “How long did ye say it would take for me tae get better?”

“Mm.” The Doctor tapped his fingers against his lips. “I didn’t. Five minutes? Half an hour?”

It was ridiculous enough that Jamie would have burst into laughter if he had not been so worried. “There’s a hell of a lot of difference between five minutes an’ half an hour, ye know.”

“Yes, I suppose there is.” The Doctor reached into the bag himself, pulling out the pastry inside. Its bright green surface shimmered like the sun on waves as he turned it over, and Jamie shook his head, struggling to focus his eyes on it. “I’ll simply have to hold it for you, then.”

“Hey – Doctor -” Jamie spluttered out a protest, but the Doctor was already pressing the pastry against his mouth. He glared at him over the top of it, but took an obliging bite anyway. “Mm.”

“What do you think?”

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully, wondering exactly what the thing tasted like. It could almost have been apples, but there was something pleasantly sour about it that he could not put his finger on. “’S good,” he managed. “Really good.”

“Splendid.” The Doctor beamed, and there was that awful feeling in his chest again, like the twitching in his fingers had reached his heart. Maybe it had, he thought. Maybe there was some terrible side-effect the Doctor had neglected to tell him about, and he was going to collapse. “Didn’t I say you’d like them?”

“Aye, ye did.” The Doctor was holding the pastry to his mouth again. This time he glanced around surreptitiously before taking a bite, his skin crawling with the thought of even a passer-by so much as sparing them a glance. This could hardly be allowed, he thought. Not in broad daylight, in the middle of a public place. Not when the Doctor was still looking at him with his eyes so soft around the edges. “Doctor?”

“Mm?”

I do have one good arm, he wanted to tell him – opened his mouth to say – You don’t have to be feeding me – but he did not want him to stop, not really. The Doctor swiped his thumb over his cheek, wiping away a smudge of something that might have been icing sugar, and scrubbing away any coherent thoughts from Jamie’s mind along with it. The place he had touched was left tingling long after the contact was gone, and Jamie was briefly glad that his numb arm stopped him from reaching up to touch the spot himself. “Nothin’,” he said faintly.

“Alright, then.”

“Just -” Jamie twisted around to face him, fumbling to take the Doctor’s hands and press them against the bench to hold him still. His swollen fingers were still burning with the shock, and the strange coolness of the Doctor’s skin against his own felt amplified a thousand times. “I – I like bein’ here. With ye.” Even as he spoke, the words sounded so pitifully small, far too little to capture the pounding of his heart. But all the things he wanted to say were trapped beneath his skin, caught in his throat, the mere thought of them leaving him trembling like a cornered wild animal. You’re too good for me. I don’t know what I can do for you in return. It hurts when you look at me all soft like that, and I know you don’t mean what I want you to mean, but I never want you to stop.

“I’m, ah.” The Doctor glanced away, his expression flickering into something that looked dangerously like wistfulness for the briefest of moments. Wishful thinking again, Jamie told himself sternly. “I’m glad.”

I wish I knew what you were thinking.

“Aye, well. Good.”

I wish I could forget about what I’m thinking.

“Quite.”

They sat in silence, facing carefully away from each other, their hands still pressed tightly together.

I love you.

[desperationandgin]

Deep as the Road is Long (Part III, Chapter 24)

Rating: General Audiences

Also Read On: AO3

Previous Chapter

A/N: FOUR CHAPTERS LEFT!! And the final mood board made by @smashing-teacups :D I wanted to mention up here that this entire plot was done and written ago weeks and weeks before I even started posting this story. Where the story is going and how it wraps up was always the plan, and it’s funny to see all of the comments asking for exactly what happens, lol. I hope that doesn’t mean anyone will stop reading with such a short journey left! As always, I appreciate every single comment ❤ Yes, there is a time jump of a couple of months!

October 2017

Wedding planning, Claire had assumed, was exhausting work. There was figuring out what documents were needed, getting together notice forms and statutory fees, wedding dress shopping with Jenny, finding a caterer, selecting guests and color themes. At least the venue, (the grounds of Lallybroch) was easy and free. Having a beautiful old home as a backdrop on sprawling acreage couldn’t have been better, and she has a feeling they’d saved thousands with one easy decision. Still, all the planning for a November wedding was why, she thought, she was exhausted and stressed from the very end of August all through September.

Two days ago she’d woken up, gone about her daily routine, then vomited in the sink; everything happening too quickly for her to make it to the bathroom. When she was queasy again in the early afternoon, then ravenous all evening, she thought maybe it’d been a light stomach bug.

Then, she repeated it the next day.

That, coupled with intense fatigue and the slow realization she’d skipped her period in September (and was already three days late in October) has her sitting in the bathroom now, holding a digital pregnancy test, reading and re-reading one single word: Pregnant.

How it’s possible, she doesn’t know. She’d taken the test just to quiet a voice in the back of her mind as a doctor unwilling to let coincidences slip by. She remembers the day she’d been told she couldn’t have children, the damage from the accident she’d been in with her parents, being crushed --pinned at her abdomen-- left behind too much that couldn’t be fixed--or so she’d been told. Because she doesn’t know for sure if this is viable, she decides to wait to tell Jamie; it’s too early, and if he has anything to fear or worry about she can’t do that to him right now without any concrete answers for him. Dinner is quiet, her mind elsewhere, and she’s thankful his response to it is not asking questions, just holding her close that night and murmuring a soft, Gaelic prayer across her forehead.

After pleading with a local office’s staff, she manages to see a doctor two mornings later. Clad in nothing but a flimsy pink paper gown, she’s quiet as the sound of her own heartbeat fills the room, steady and strong. With only a slight adjustment, the rapid pulse of her child (no bigger than the size of a single sweet pea) fills the room, a muffled garble of thumping.

Eight weeks pregnant. She’s approximately two months, and when she does the math in her head it’s so obvious that she’s shaken. The baby’s in the right place, not growing along a fallopian tube or anything equally dangerous. Everything is normal and she has the prescription for prenatal vitamins to prove it.

She calls in the rest of the day at work and nearly goes to the bookstore but decides to simply head home, sending Jamie a quick text that she isn’t feeling well and he doesn’t need to worry about walking her home. Laying down in their bed, she rests her hands atop her still flat stomach and closes her eyes, trying to imagine that belly swelling, having a soft roundness to it and giving life when she never thought she would. She knows with Jamie, if they’d ever decided to have a child they would have, but she never thought it would be a situation outside of adoption or surrogacy. It makes her cry, tears of joy (and some fear) that she gets out of her system by the time Jamie’s home. Meeting him at the door with a soft kiss, she takes a brown paper bag from him and peeks in.

“Chicken and dumplin’s. From the place ye like that ye say has perfect comfort foods. Something easy on yer stomach,” he explains, watching as she moves to the kitchen to put their dinner down. “How do ye feel?”

Claire pretends to be busy for a moment getting bowls and spoons and napkins, but finally, she answers him. “I’m all right. Ready to eat,” she manages to say with a soft smile. “I’m not sick. I went to the doctor today.”

“Aye?” he asks with a small frown, though there’s relief in his eyes as well. “A person does no’ throw their guts up multiple times a day for no reason.”

“They do if they’re pregnant.”

She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that, and she looks up, locking eyes with him. Her on one side of their kitchen, him on the other, a countertop between them.

“...What, Sassenach?”

It feels so quiet a pin could drop and sound like an explosion. “Jamie, I’m pregnant,” she says softly, moving around to him and reaching for his hands. “About eight weeks, the doctor said. I wanted to be sure I really was and that everything was alright before I said anything.”

“Pregnant.” With one hand in hers, the other runs over his face before sitting in a chair. “I thought ye couldna--”

“So did I. But I was so young when the accident happened, my body’s had a long time to repair itself in ways I don’t think anyone expected possible. At least back then, when it happened.” Sitting across from him, Claire squeezes his hand between both of hers. “I’m having a baby, Jamie.”

There are a lot of reactions she expects; fear and anxiety are at the top of her list. He lost his wife in childbirth, after all, after being reassured that she was fine. What she doesn’t expect is the way he pulls her close and clings to her, one hand tangled in her hair and the other pressing to her back.

“I canna lose ye.”

“I know, Jamie,” she whispers. “I know. I wish I could promise, but I won’t. It isn’t fair to you. But I will tell you I’ll do everything I can to make sure I’m healthy, that our baby is healthy.” Her lips press to his temple as she feels his hand snake around to rest against her belly. “I listened to a heartbeat today. It sounds like a washing machine,” she says with a soft smile.

“So, the bairn is strong? And you’re healthy?”

“Everything right now is very normal, Jamie. The fatigue and morning sickness, and I’m sure any pending tenderness. All normal,” she tries to assure him.

Jamie stares at her stomach for a good long while before speaking again. “How long have ye kent it?”

She shakes her head to make sure he knows it hasn’t been long before the words even leave her mouth. “Only since the day before yesterday. I took a test but I didn’t think it could possibly be correct. I waited to tell you in case it wasn’t, or in case it was something else.” Something else causing a false positive. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Jamie,” she urges, mentally noting that she might suggest he bump his therapy back up from once a week to twice. At least for a little while.

Wetting his lips, he clears his throat and inhales deeply before letting it out slowly. “I canna lose anyone else,” he finally tells her. “To go through it again, I’m no’ strong enough. If I Iost ye at any point, or the bairn, I…”

This is is what she knew would be the biggest mental roadblock keeping him from being happy. She doesn’t blame him; to know how horrifically and quickly Annalise died scares her a bit, too. But still, she knows odds and her lips press to his forehead firmly for a moment before pulling back. “If there is ever, ever any sign of distress for me or the baby, we’ll go straight to the hospital, I promise. I might have one advantage Jamie, and it’s that I’m a doctor. I’ll know right away if something isn’t right.” At least she hopes she will. Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter to her so much as soothing him right now.

Nodding, Jamie pulls back so that he can see her face fully. “I want to be excited, I do.”

Shaking her head, Claire relocates herself from her own chair to his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know you’re afraid. I understand why, I promise. You don’t need to be any sort of way, I just need you here with me. Supporting me.”

“I’m no’ going anywhere,” he says vehemently, wrapping her up and pressing his lips to her shoulder. “The next appointment, I can go wi’ ye?”

“Of course. Every visit from now on. I know it was a risk, keeping the appointment from you today, and I would have told you if something was wrong, I just--you’ve been through so much Jamie, we both have. I wanted to have as much information as I could before saying anything.”

His lips press to her forehead this time. “No, no, it’s alright, Sassenach,” he assures her, resting his head against hers now. “I understand.” She was trying to protect his heart the best she could, and for that alone, he’s grateful for the different ways she loves him. “When’s the next visit, then?”

“Next month. Just after the wedding,” she murmurs. “Wait, hold on,” she remembers, getting up and going to the counter, picking up an envelope before settling herself on his lap again. Pulling out the ultrasound photos, she points out their baby. “Usually they don’t even do ultrasounds for this stage, but I insisted.”

Jamie squints a little as he tries to make out the photo but he sees the small little dot that is apparently life in Claire’s belly. “Ye ken what this is?” he breathes out, trying to focus on what he knows to be true, not what he’s afraid could happen.

“Hmm?” Her fingers lazily move through his hair, gliding easily through the curls.

“Proof, Sassenach. Living proof that through all of the pain and hurt, we made our way back to one another. We’ve loved one another.”

Blinking quickly, trying to push back tears (could she blame her sudden emotions on hormones yet?) Claire presses her lips to his temple. “We can still make something good, and put that into the world,” she murmurs, covering his hand which has found its new home against her stomach.

“Aye, we can,” Jamie agrees, letting out a soft breath that makes her hair bounce lightly against her cheek.

“We can, and we will.”

Next Chapter

[imagineclaireandjamie]

The Tagalong - Part Twenty-One

Fergus disobeys Jamie’s order to return to Lallybroch and instead follows them all the way to Craigh na Dun, inadvertently following Claire through the stones.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty

********************************************************

Brianna began fussing and clinging to Claire as they approached Craig na Dun again. Roger grit his teeth and followed Claire up the hill, carrying her pack for her so she could calm Brianna as much as was possible. 

“I know, darling, I know,” Claire shushed, her hand rubbing Brianna’s back. “But you want to find Fergus, don’t you? That’s what I need you to do right now, honey. Think about Fergus and how badly you want to see him. Think of him and hold tight to me.” 

Brianna’s death grip around Claire’s neck cinched tighter and it was enough for Claire to let go of Brianna with one hand.

“Roger, you hold tight to me too, alright?” Claire instructed. “It won’t be pleasant and I know you’re scared, but if you focus on where we’re going—think about Fergus—it’ll make it easier. Don’t focus on what we’re doing, focus on what’s going to happen when we get there. Because we will get through this next bit and when we do, we need to stick together. Right?”

Roger readjusted the pack over his arm and reached up with his hand to grab hold of Claire’s elbow. With his free hand, he held it out toward the stone and waited, watching Claire. 

She did the same. “On three,” she nodded. “One…”

“Two…” Roger murmured.

“Three,” Brianna sobbed into Claire’s neck out of habit. 

Claire and Roger put their hands to the stone.

********************************************************

Brianna was crying and screaming and Roger was trying to calm her. Claire could hear it but she struggled to move. Everything hurt. And this time it wasn’t just the headache of being rattled or the joint pain from feeling like she’d been dropped from several stories. She would swear she felt it in her very organs, as if they’d been ripped out and then shoved back into her body. 

She was able to turn her head before she vomited. 

There were fresh hysterics from Brianna and a pressure on her chest that suggested her daughter had broken loose from Roger and was climbing on top of her. Roger, for his part, came around her other side and looked down into her face, relief evident on his. 

“Mrs. Claire? Are ye alright?” he asked, hopeful. 

No, she wasn’t alright. She knew in that moment she could never survive another trip through the stones. So long as they were where they were supposed to be and found Fergus, she would happily give up the luxuries of her twentieth century life again. Anything to get away from these horrid stones once and for all. 

“How… long… how long have I been…?” 

“I thought ye were deid!” Roger exclaimed now that his fears had proven false. 

“I feel halfway there,” Claire muttered. She was able to move her arms. She brought them over her body till she was able to make out the shape of Brianna thrown across her, a hand sliding up into her daughter’s curls to caress the solid curve of her head and offer reassurance. “It’s alright, Bree,” she soothed. “It’s alright. We’re here now and we’re going to find Fergus. It’s alright…”

“‘Gus here?” Brianna asked, sniffling. She still shook a little with each breath but the wailing and sobbing had subsided. 

Claire braced herself on one elbow and tried to sit up. Roger was behind her in an instant, helping. Brianna rolled over down Claire’s torso so that she was lying on her back across Claire’s thighs, looking up at her mother. Claire bent her head, her curls curtaining around the two of them. 

Brianna smiled up at her, tears still shining in her eyes. 

“We’re gonna be alright,” Claire said again, this time with more confidence. Her daughter was alive and with her. Roger was safe and no longer alone either. She ached for Reverend Wakefield and what he must be feeling, but she’d done what she could in Inverness before they left to return to Craig na Dun. Hopefully it would reach him and give him some measure of comfort in Roger’s continued absence. 

“What do we do now, Mrs. Claire?” Roger asked. He had sat on the grass beside them, pulling the pack into his lap and clutching it like a stuffed toy. 

“If we’re where we ought to be, there’s a cabin down the hill a little ways. We can make our way down there and have a shelter there for the night while we recover. It’ll also give us a place to change,” Claire explained, sliding Brianna off her legs. She was beginning to get real feeling back in them and Brianna’s weight threatened to cut off her circulation. 

“Change?”

“There are clothes in there, or at least, some things we might be able to adapt to blend in better. It’s more for me and Bree than you. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to find you and Fergus or when we might end up, but we can fashion something suitable. After a few days on the road, it probably won’t matter too much. So long as we can keep warm at night, we won’t want too much extra weight.” 

Claire rolled onto her knees and cringed against the sharp paints that shot down her shins. No, she wouldn’t be able to go far, even after resting the night. She wouldn’t be able to move much faster even if she didn’t have the children to keep her moving slow. It would be several days before they could hope to reach Lallybroch, but they would manage. They had to. It was the only place she could think of where Fergus might go hoping to be taken in. She had to hope that Jenny and Ian wouldn’t mind being asked if they could take in three more. 

If it proved too much of a strain… she would think of something. France or perhaps the colonies. Fergus was old enough to be more help than hindrance and Roger’s experiences of the last week appeared to have shaken some of the innocence and mischief from his inclinations—something she quietly mourned on his behalf. 

Claire forced herself to stand and immediately, Brianna was at her leg, pulling on her and reaching, “Up, Mama, up.” 

********************************************************

They made it to the cabin. It was as sparse as Claire remembered it but there were signs of recently disturbed dust. The bench hadn’t been wiped clean before a body had lain there—a body whose size was about the same as Fergus. 

Brianna chattered and sang to herself, standing at the bench and clapping her hands in the dust. She sneezed and then laughed as the dust particles hung in the air, caught in a bright shaft of sunlight. 

Claire and Roger went through the pack and Claire changed her clothes as best as she could in the corner of the room without help. Her body remembered the routine of it, but her muscles were both out of practice and sore from the ordeal of traveling through the stones. She had her hands still up in her hair, pinning it out of her face when Brianna turned around to show off her dirty hands. 

Her blue eyes went wide and she toddled over to her mother, hands reaching for the unfamiliar woolen skirt. Claire intercepted Brianna and swept her off her feet, into the air with a squeal of excitement. 

“Do you want to change too?” Claire crooned. “Do you want to look more like Mama?” 

What she’d managed for Brianna wasn’t too far off the sorts of dresses she was used to, especially since Claire refused to worry about trying to get Brianna to keep a cap on her head. She didn’t want to wear one herself, though she might change her mind for both of them as they walked in the sun the next day. 

She gave Roger a jacket that would be warmer than what he had and helped to camouflage the outlandishness of the rest of his attire. 

They had bought more food while in Inverness and should have enough stores to last at least a week, closer to two. With only her memory to guide her as to the direction, it would likely take them longer to reach Lallybroch. 

Sitting on the bench and looking out the window as the sun set and Brianna played on the floor with Roger, Claire debated the merits of heading to Inverness to secure some sort of transportation. She wouldn’t be able to afford a carriage or even a cart. She might manage to swing the cost of a horse but the last thing she needed was another living creature to wrangle. Roger might be able to ride, but keeping Brianna on would be next to impossible without riding herself and she didn’t know if she dared risk riding with both children and no one to help. 

She also didn’t want any further delays. She might not know the exact route to Lallybroch from Craig na Dun (not without the roads clearly paved and marked), but Inverness was the wrong way. 

So they set out on foot at dawn, Claire reminding Brianna that Fergus was waiting for them every time she slowed down or whined. She carried her daughter while she napped and Roger carried her piggyback for stretches. They made crude camps in the shelter of trees or a hillside or any other cover they could find. And slowly they made their way closer and closer to Lallybroch. 

********************************************************

“There it is,” Claire said as they crested the top of a hill and the valley spread out before them. It was the same hill where she had stopped the car when she’d driven Fergus and Brianna to Lallybroch for their picnic. Brianna wouldn’t remember and Fergus… Well, with any luck they were looking down on him now. 

“And ye’re sure tha’s where he’ll be?” Roger asked, nervous. The extended time on the road had worn away his faith in the plan. 

“If he isn’t, we’ll at least find some friendly faces and a place to stay for a few days while we decide what to do next,” Claire remarked.

“Gus dere?” Brianna asked. Hearing they were close, she began to perk up. Of course, the nap she’d taken in Claire’s arms had helped too. Claire set her on the ground and arched her back as much as her clothing allowed. 

“Only one way to find out,” she said and they began to head down the hill toward the gate.

[7deadlycinderellas]

if the summer of our lives could just come again, ch32

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373064/chapters/59147731

 Casterly Rock

Valonqar, that was the word sticking in Cersei’s throat.

While the other denizens of Casterly Rock mill about, confused about whatever sorcery had come over them

All she could think of was the spectre of Maggy’s sick, yellow eyes, and that single word, valonqar.

She stares in the mirror to the words “shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you” echoing through her head.

She still can’t reason how she allowed herself to end up back here, put here by her own father. Her only daughter, stolen away from her to Dorne, her sons still in King’s Landing, under the thumb of that Tyrell harlot.

She had long thought that the valonqar, the little brother, would be her own. She’d always known Tyrion to be a vile, spiteful beast. His recent absence from King’s Landing only confirmed her suspicions.

And Jamie, who always swore he would be there for her was gone. He had not followed her back to the Westerlands, instead insisting that it was his duty to continue guarding the king.

He had abandoned her, she would just have to accept that.

She can’t get the words out of her head, golden crowns and golden shrouds. Falling and choking and poison, purple and red and red and gold.

Her fingernails scratch at her throat. Her golden crown had been stolen, and she will claim her golden shroud before she could be forced to watch the others.

Her fingers don’t do the trick, not sharp enough, not strong enough. She becomes faint but does not fall. She looks in front. The mirror.

She wonders for a moment if the glass breaking will attract people, who might presume to come to her air. But no, she suspects they are all caught up in their own petty little thoughts.

The glass is good, sharp and quick. The blood flows thick, and Cersei laughs. Lannister red, spilling from her throat. No golden shrouds for her.

As the world begins to dim, she continues to laugh. The sounds of a door opening, and a scream scarcely make themselves known behind her, and her laughter rises and peaks as the blood drips down her neckline, staining her gown.

 Greywater Watch

Shireen comes into the hall and sits down roughly at the table next to Sansa.

“Childbirth is terrifying, and I’m never doing it.”

Sansa snorts quietly, eyes remaining trained on the harp standing before her.

“Good luck with that.”

After a moment, Sansa looks back up.

“How is she?”

“Exhausted. The midwife warned her about how long first time births can take.”

Sansa remembers hearing Catelyn’s stories, that she’d been in labor with Robb for nearly two days before he’d come, and after that, all of the others had seemed to take no time at all.

Meera had called for the midwife the day before, but stayed on her feet as long as she could stand. But even the strongest of them has a breaking point.

Bran had fallen asleep, still letting her cling to his arm.

“She’s seen me at far worse than this,” he had insisted, “I have no excuse to leave her side.”

The midwife had nodded approvingly. Men often had excuses to leave their wives sides during birth, from the more infuriatingly expected; insisting that it just wasn’t done, to the more understandable; that they dreaded seeing them in pain.

The rest of the small keep were trying to go about their daily work. The sky remains dark gray, even on the days no snow falls, even on the rare days with no fog over the water.

Inside, at the table, Sansa and Shireen keep at the harp.

They’ve managed to get four of the five runes to dimly light up, but never at once, and it really grinds on Shireen that she can’t figure out how to trigger  the sequence of notes.

They’ve been going at it every day at least, and they still have made so little progress.

After staring at it for a long time, Shireen finally mutters to Sansa.

“Maybe we have this wrong.”

Sansa looks at her, confused. Shireen fingers the strings of the harp.

“These runes were of the First Men...but how do we know they were the ones who would have played it?”

Sansa furrows her brow.

“Who else would have?”

“Well, when the First Men came to Westeros, they didn’t find it empty. They fought with the giants and the children of the forest.”

Sansa thinks, and studies the instrument in front of them.

“It does…seem rather small for a harp. I never had to stretch as much as Leonette did because I’m so tall, but I’ve never had to hunch either…”

Her fingers linger along the strings, which are spaced a bit more closely than she would expect. Both of them were rather novice players, she muses ruefully, a seasoned one might have noticed more quickly.

There’s an idea blooming in Shireen’s mind, but it’s formation is interrupted when the midwife emerges to tell them that mother and child are both doing fine and resting, if not quite comfortably.

“It’s a good thing you regained the use of one of your legs,” Meera whispers sleepily, “Because I’m not going to be doing anything until mine stop being jelly.”

Bran chuckles, and they both stare quietly down at the blanket wrapped bundle on her chest.

“I never thought I would get to have any of this,” Bran admits, softly, “One of the first things I remember after waking up after my fall was everyone going on about how I would never marry or have a family...like that meant much to a ten year old. I was so much more worried about never riding a horse or swinging a sword again.”

Meera laughs in response. She rests her head on his shoulder and then her voice quiets.

“I would have married you then. We would have had children, if it were still possible for you, you never really talked about that-”

Bran still finds himself a little red.

“It seemed to work like I’d always heard it would, but I wasn’t exactly whipping it out and comparing notes with other men.”

They both laugh before Meera continues.

“If you had given me so much of a glimmer of hope that you still felt...When you stared at me with those empty eyes...that was the only time I ever really thought you were broken.”

Bran shifts to push her sweaty curls back off her forehead and assure her she never has to worry about that again, but she’s already fast asleep, snoring lightly.

He pushes her off his shoulder back onto the pillow and carefully lifts the bundle from her chest.

“We still haven’t come up with a name for you,” he admits to his daughter, “But I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

In the morning, once all three of them have had a chance to rest, the rest of the keep file in a few at a time.

The look on Howland’s face is one of wonder as he cradles the tiny person and he has to be goaded to pass her to his wife.

“I never admitted before, how much it frightened me, how close our house got to dying out…”

Jyana interrupts, knowing how petty the concern feels now.

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

Bran and Meera look at each other.

“We’ve got a few ideas, but nothing that seems..right.”

Shireen, who has been hovering behind, trying not to call attention, makes a comment.

“Gilly told me the Free Folk don’t usually name their children until they’re older.”

Bran smiles.

“While it would be nice to have some extra time, I don’t think I can get used to just calling her ‘baby’”.

But at that moment, the as of yet unnamed baby chooses to wake and fuss, and so the crowd leaves them be.

Later, when Meera has been coaxed onto her feet and out of bed, they join the others out at the table, dragging the cradle out behind them. It looks more like a basket than a cradle, woven from dried grasses and weeds by Jyana and the other women in the keep, with Sansa and Shireen looking on curiously.

Shireen is twisting and tying together several bits of the left over dried ferns

“What are you working on?”

Shireen frowns, looking at the bundle, before answering.

“About how big do you remember Rowan’s hands being?”

Bran pinches his mouth together in thought.

“Is that what you’re trying to make?”

Shireen nods. She gestures over her shoulder to where Sansa’s scribbling furiously.

“Between the two of us, the best guess we had is this harp was meant to be played by one of the Children of the forest, and they have much smaller hands than us.”

Meera leans over and plucks one of the strings.

“This seems kind of big for one of them, even if it’s small for a harp…”

Shireen has another epiphany. She waves Sansa over to her side.

“We should try playing it at the same time. Meera’s right, this is too big for one Child to play by itself.”

It takes practice to learn to keep rhythm with each other, to get used to each other’s presence and movements, but it comes. By suppertime, when Howland comes in from his solar, and Jojen and Jyana come in from shoveling the duck coop and the canoe launch of snow, it’s happening.

“There it is!” Shireen announces excitedly, “The last rune!”

And with that last one revealed, it doesn’t take long. The twang and twinkle of the music being played echo throughout Greywater Watch, attracting the notice of nearly everyone.

Shireen could feel the vibrations through her skin down to her bones. The music warms her in a way she hasn’t felt since long before winter. It spreads from her fingers to every part of her. She’s warm and alight when she realizes all eyes are on them.

Jojen makes a quiet noise among the notes, and points to the side of the harp. Shireen does her best not to break the rhythm when she leans to the side to see what she hopes: all five runes carved into the side, all lit up at once.

She nods to Sansa, and they keep it up as long as they can.

Beside the table, the as of yet unnamed child in her cradle gurgles. When her father moves to soothe her, he catches sight of something he hasn’t seen in too long.

“The fog’s breaking-” Bran interrupts the music, “The sun’s come out!”

The sun breaks through the clouds and fog, bathing the swamplands in light.

Shireen keeps playing, one eye trained out the windows.

 Winterfell

Gendry’s toes are poking through his boots.

It seems an odd thing to focus on, but it’s where his mind is. They’re all ragged, they’ve been fighting too long. Cloth is worn through, gloves torn ragged, soles flop off boots, revealing stocking and skin both. The snow still falls outside and soon the frost will begin to get to them. The wights, the fever, the cold, the frost.

This is where his mind is when he hears the words that the Night King has been spotted. It was Nymeria, of course, and her mistress passed the word. They know he’s coming, even though they can barely see in front of their own faces. The snow hasn’t stopped falling for three weeks. But what is snow to a direwolf?

Well, finally. The plan, he assumes, is still in place.

With his toes shivering in the cold, he goes to meet the others, at the base of the Broken Tower.

The east wall has long since fallen, but the pile of rubble is high enough to slow the dead just enough. Some of the archers have left their posts on the other walls to help guard this one, when it risks being overrun.

When Gendry reaches the meeting point, Arya’s already there, pacing.

“Father went up the steps, he said he had to say goodbye.”

She pulls away from Gendry’s touch. There’s not much he can do now.

Eventually, Jon emerges from the Godswood, accompanied by Ygritte.   He tosses Arya Dark Sister and she passes the dagger to Gendry, who holds it in one hand, the other resting on his warhammer. Ygritte nods to them, before leaving to join the other archers.

Gendry looks at where Jon is holding Longclaw.

“Robb gave it back?”

“Not much else he could do. He could swing an axe now, but he doesn’t have the reflexes yet, or the time to learn.”

Gendry sighs. He imagines what Robb must be thinking, stuck among the sick in the Great Hall while his men, and his wife, continue to fight outside without him.

The three of them stand, and wait. It’s all they can do. Ned eventually emerges, his face in his hands.

“Father you should go,” Arya tells him, her voice short, “You’re still injured.”

Ned shakes his head, and rests his hand on Ice’s hilt.

“I will not stand by the fight for my home and my blood, injured or no, especially as the four of us are the only ones wielding Valyrian steel right now.”

His words are solemn, suited to the situation.

Which makes the whole standing around the tower holding their weapons and waiting for the Night King to arrive seem all the more ridiculous. They have spread out enough that they can guard each side of the tower, but aren’t far enough apart for them to not be able to see each other.

Around them, the fighting continues. Wights make their ways over the walls and are cut down by groups who run from one end to the other. They’ve lost too many archers to keep them from climbing the fallen wall. A pyre burns close by, and every body thrown onto it risks it spreading. Parts of the stables have already gone ablaze, along with several storage sheds.

Arya wonders how long it will take to rebuild once everything is done.

She slips into Nymeria’s head, just for a look, and the blue eyes pierce through her, through both sets of her eyes, blood freezing in her veins. .

She breathes deeply in and out. Gendry is looking her in the eye from his side.

“Almost?”

She nods.

A walker appears from over the wall, it’s steed kicking off any who get near.

The rider is taking aim with it’s ice sword, when a blow from Gendry’s war hammer renders the beast broken. Arya slices the animal’s head clean from it’s body and Jon dispatches the walker in the same manner.

One down. Who knows how many to go.

They wait.

Arya cuts down one, Jon another. They don’t know how many there will be. The wights too, get close to them and get cut.

Eventually, Arya’s eyes go white for a moment and Gendry knows what will happen.

None of them see the Night King come over the downed wall. His horse is nowhere to be seen. They don’t know if he walks or climbs or crawls, or just sort of floats in that otherworldly manner. But the air somehow goes even colder, and they know he’s here.

Gendry feels the air try to leave his lungs. He hadn’t been here at this point before, too busy in the chaos. The direction he’s coming from is at a corner to Gendry, so he takes the opportunity.

The Night King stepped straight in front of Ned, so Gendry lunges forward and swings at him with his hammer.

It practically slides off. With barely a glance, it’s as though the iron weighs nothing to him, and the force causes Gendry to land hard on the ground. Jon takes a swing too, also knocked off with the slightest movement of his hand. Gendry doesn’t see Arya attack, but she ends up on her back on the ground as well.

She pulls herself up, spitting. Her face is scraped, but she’s moving.

Arya turns to meet her father’s eye.

“Plan B I guess. Get to a safe distance. We hope it works. “

In the last intact floor of the broken tower, Benjen counts his moments. He savours the last words he shared with his brother, with his nieces and nephews. The moments they were so careful to give him. They all took the perilous climb, among the loose stone and broken beams, to say their goodbyes. He can hear the shouting below, and he knows his time is coming.

The level he is on is high enough to see over the walls of Winterfell, and he’s helpless to tell them that they’re still coming.   That the Great Other may have come, but his followers are still behind him as well. He wishes it was higher, wonders how far his eyes could see if he was as high as the eyrie.

Then the moment comes, and he hears the feet on the staircase leading up to where he is. It hadn’t been easy for him to climb this high, and Benjen hopes it will prove as treacherous for the Night King. The younger Starks had been correct that this was the best place for him to hide. The crate of dried meat is nearly empty now, that the weeks and moons have dragged on, and Benjen knows hunger will come for him, even if the Night King does not.

Though Benjen is no longer so sure of his own beliefs, as the steps get closer, he prays. He prays to all of the old gods, and all of the Seven. He even spares a word for the Red God Stannis had spoken of, just for completion, but the steps do not slow.

A brick falls, a step. Another step. A beam cracks. Benjen entertains himself with an image of the Night King falling through the floor and shaking his fist.

Another step. Benjen clutches the flint and steel close to the drum of wildfire.

Another step. A thump.

Benjen finds the skin creeping in fear, even with all of the time he’s had to resign himself to his probable fate. The younger had fought him, saying there had to be a way, but he knew the instant he knew they’d gotten over the wall.

The Night King would come for him, and stare him in the eye.

He’s staring him in the eye now.

His eyes are so blue, Benjen thinks, as he tries to strike the flint and steel. There are no sparks being produced, and he can’t tell why. He’s too entranced, too drawn by those blue eyes. The vat of wildfire is still not lighting. He steps closer.

Down on the ground, Arya frowns at the top of the tower.

“I think there’s something wrong,” she tells Gendry.

The tower still stands, as it has.

On the other side, Jon’s head jerks at a movement in the sky, coming through the clouds and the snow.

When the scales and claws become more visible, Jon hears Ned beside him whisper a prayer.

Benjen heard them too, up in the tower. The Night King’s fingers were nearly upon him. He didn’t know the sound of a dragon’s cry.

That day during the siege of Winterfell, the tower once burned by lightning, burned again, this time in dragon’s fire.

And just before the conflagration begins, the sky opens and the sun begins to shine. Not too many of the fighters have the time to take notice.

The blast knocks everyone in range onto the ground, human and wight alike. Several of the wights do not get up, they are burned too quickly. So quickly have the army of Winterfell become used to disposing of the bodies.

Gendry’s head had cracked against the ground. He sits up with a groan and waits for the world to stop spinning. Beside him, Arya jumps to attention, ignoring the buzzing in her ears. When Gendry stands, he stares for a moment at the blood leaking from her right ear.

Arya doesn’t spare a word. She jumps up, grabs her sword, and leads Gendry to where the human shaped blur is falling from the burning tower.

Jon and Ned are already in place, looking no worse for the wear.

The movements come as if second nature, for all they had gone over them in hurried conversation between shifts.

The ambulatory corpse lands with a thud, leaving a hole in the walk underneath. When it begins to move, a swing from Longclaw knocks him back, and another from Ice keeps him down.

Gendry lunges forward with his hammer, using it to crush the pelvis and pin the Night King to the ground. Swifty, he trades Arya the dagger for Dark Sister. Arya climbs atop the pinned corpse, ignoring his ice blue eyes. Jon strikes one of his arms, and Ned the other.

Arya plunges the dagger as deeply as she can, but this time she’s not aiming for the heart. She cuts with precision, but nods to Ned when she needs help breaking the ribs.

His chest feels like pure ice, flowing through like human innards. But Arya is a child of the north and she can handle a little cold. Her fingers fight their way through the squelch and bone to find the sharp sliver of dragonglass.

She grasps it, pulls it free, and throws it on the ground. With a single movement, Ned severs the Night King’s head, and Jon crushes it into dust.

The Night King is no more.

No one speaks at first, merely milling around. Around them, the other fighters are still moving.

“The wights won’t fall yet,” Jon comments, “But there won’t be anymore.”

“How many more are there?” Gendry questions. He doesn’t expect an answer. They don’t know.

Above them, the dragon swoops lower, and Ned stares in wonder.

“We should try to communicate with her,” Jon comments, head nodding in Ned’s direction, and they move to climb the remaining ramparts and take account of the situation.

When he tries to walk, Gendry stumbles. His head spins anew now that his blood isn’t rushing as much. He leans hard on Arya’s shoulder, and she’s pressed back against him just as hard. He thinks he mutters some words he thinks are supposed to be encouraging. She hears little of it, the buzzing has not ceased.

They reach part of the fallen east wall before collapsing. This is bad, Gendry thinks, they’re both clearly injured, they need to get to the Great Hall. Wights could find them at any moment, they don’t know if dozens, hundreds, even thousands remain. But they can’t move, it’s too cold now despite the sun. The quiet is too tempting. He throws an arm over Arya and tries so hard to feel her chest rising up and down.

The last thing Gendry remembers before letting the quiet take him is the freezing air hitting his toes. Fuck those boots he thinks. As he drifts off, he thinks he feels warm fur brush against them, and something warm wrap around him and Arya’s bodies. He even thinks he feels a wet muzzle brush against his face.

He supposes they’ll find out eventually, under the light of the sun this time.

[basketcase1880]

What’s this, a second chapter in one day? Alas, this is the final chapter of this installment. I will be returning to this ‘verse at some point, but I am currently writing for another fandom at the minute.

CHAPTER 16

Previous 

Claire woke first on the morning of the Hogmanay celebrations, she loved the feeling of waking up in Jamie’s arms and didn’t know how she would cope when she had to go back to Glasgow in a couple of days. The feeling of Jamie stirring behind her, made Claire smile, so she turned around in his arms to burrow her head further into his chest. There were lots still to be done this morning, but she wanted to hide away from the outside world for just that little bit longer.

 “Mornin’ Sassenach,” Jamie murmured as he pressed his lips to Claire’s. “I’m surprised there is still only the two of us in bed.”

 “Hush,” Claire jokingly scolded. “I can hear footsteps outside the door, so I think Fergus is just a late riser this morning. He has been working quite hard the past few days, and the high he got off of donating his toys was almost unbearable last night.”

“Did ye get somethin’ nice tae wear tonight?” Jamie asked, suddenly remembering the ladies’ shopping trip yesterday. “Do I get a sneak preview?”

 “No, you do not, James Fraser,” Claire scolded, just as the bedroom door opened and Fergus found his way onto the bed to snuggle between Claire and Jamie. “I had Jenny as my stylist, so you can trust I have a suitable outfit to match you, and Fergus, in your kilts.”

 “Fergus has a kilt?” Jamie asked as he began to stroke Fergus’ curls. “Another gift from Janet?”

 “No, M’lady,” Fergus corrected around his thumb, which was currently located in his mouth, and Jamie’s eyes snapped to Claire’s.

 “Sorcha?” Jamie questioned. “You bought him a kilt?”

 “I noticed while we were sorting through his clothes, he needed a kilt,” Claire explained as if it was common knowledge. “So, while we were out, I had Jenny help me get him one. He looks so handsome in it and will match his daddy perfectly.”

 “Well, I can’t wait for tonight,” Jamie smiled. “But as much as I would like to stay here until tonight, I’m needed to help out with the horses. Ian has asked da’ if he can take Janet tae Loch nam Bonnach this morning.”

 “Ooh,” Claire taunted as she pushed at Jamie’s shoulder. “Getting yourself another brother soon, are you? Off you go, I’m going to hang off and let this rascal sleep a bit more as he appears to have dozed off again.”

 “Alrigh’, Sassenach,” Jamie smiled, and he pressed soft kisses to Fergus’ forehead and Claire’s lips. “I’ll set an alarm for 9 for the two of ye, get some more sleep. I’ll let mam know.”

 Claire just gave Jamie a soft smile at his gesture and snuggled back in with the little boy who she was sure occupied about half of her heart by now. And she was pretty sure his dad occupied the rest of her heart.

 ** 

When the alarm went off at 9, Claire woke, but Fergus did not. So, she decided to go and run him a bath while he was still sleeping and nip downstairs to get herself some coffee.

 “Ah, mornin’, Claire,” Ellen said as she mixed some wonderfully smelling ingredients together. “Did ye’ sleep weel?”

 “Morning Ellen,” Claire returned as she located the coffee pot that Ellen had placed on the stove top to keep warm. “Yes, thank you. To be honest, I think I’m going to struggle when I go back to Glasgow. Not sleeping in Jamie’s arms.”

 “Weel, ye’ have weekends an’ when yer classes resume yer always welcome tae visit on long weekends,” Ellen reassured Claire. “But I dinnae think yer goin’ tae be the only one struggling. I can see Jamie an’ Fergus spending a lot of nights in the same bed when ye go back tae school.”

 “Thank you, Ellen,” Claire said as she hugged her new mother figure, careful not to get the baking mix on her clothes. “Now, I’ve run Fergus’ bath, I just need to go and get him up and ready for the day.”

 “Mind just put him in jeans an’ a jumper,” Ellen said as Claire passed through the kitchen door. “Ye can change him intae his kilt around 4. If Fergus is anything like Jamie at that age, ye’ willnae want him in his kilt too early.”

 “I was just going to put him in another pair of pyjamas,” Claire smiled. “We’re just going to have a lazy day, maybe watching DVDs or painting, so he wasn’t getting under anyone’s feet.”

 “Beauty and brains,” Ellen smiled. “Jamie has really picked a goodun wi’ ye. Now go an’ get the lad up before the bath water goes cold.”

 It was easier to get Fergus up and, in the bath, than Claire thought it would be. She sat and sang to him while he played with his toys for a little while. She then decided to wash him before the water cooled too much.

 “Right, young man,” Claire said when she was sure all the soap was out his hair. “Let’s get you dried and into some fresh pyjamas. It’s too early to get into your kilt. We can play with your toys or we can watch some films.”

 “Can you read me a story, please?” Fergus asked as Claire wrapped him up in his towel. “I like when you read to me.”

 “Of course,” Claire smiled, which gave her an idea. She would use her phone to record her reading the stories and then pass them onto Jamie for when she was back in Glasgow. “But we’ll go downstairs first and see what we can get for breakfast.”

*** 

 After breakfast, Claire and Fergus retreated to Jamie’s room and Fergus gathered some of his favourite stories before curling up in Claire’s lap. Claire just smiled at Fergus as she went about readying her phone to record some of the Mr Men books for the little boy.

 Ellen popped up with some lunch for them, which Claire was grateful for, as her throat was becoming dry with all her reading. Ellen noticed the pile of books when she sat the tray of sandwiches and shortbread down.

 “Ye’ been reading some books this mornin’ then?” Ellen asked.

 “Yeah,” Claire smiled. “I asked Fergus to pick a selection of books, then I decided that I’d record myself reading them. I’ll pass them on to Jamie for the nights when all Fergus wants is my voice.”

 “Ye’ve really fallen for my boys, haven’t ye’?” Ellen asked as she took Claire’s hand in hers.

 “I used to feel so lonely,” Claire whispered, not wanting Fergus to hear this part of the conversation and become upset. “Then I met Jenny, and I didn’t feel as alone, but there was still some loneliness. When she invited me for Christmas, I didn’t know what to expect, but I went out and bought some little gifts that somehow I knew would be just right. But nothing really made sense. Then I met everyone…”

 “Ye’ were made tae be a part o’ this family,” Ellen smiled. “Ye were made tae meet Jamie an’ bring father and son and grandson together. So, as part of this family, ye’ll never feel alone…”

 Before Ellen could continue, the door downstairs slammed open and Jenny’s excited yells for anyone could be heard, which automatically brought a smile to both Ellen and Claire’s faces. They knew what Ian’s intentions were when he took Jenny out today, so, they were excited to see the ring.

 “We’re up in Jamie’s room,” Ellen called in response to her daughter.

 “Mam, mam, I’m getting’ marrit,” Jenny almost yelled as she came into the room. “Ian’s asked me to marry him, an’ I said aye.”

 “Ye’d be daft no’ tae,” Ellen jokingly replied as she took her daughter’s hand to admire the engagement ring. “That man is gaga for ye’, an’ has been fer years. Congratulations, my girl.”

 “Thanks, mam,” Jenny said as she threw her arms around her mum in joy. “Look Claire.”

 “Oh, it’s gorgeous, Jenny,” Claire said as she held Jenny’s hand to steady it, ensuring she got a good view of the ring. “You are one lucky girl.”

 “I’m going to go down and check on my clootie dumplin’,” Ellen said. “Just give me a shout if ye want me tae look efter Fergus fer ye’, Claire.”

 “Thank you for lunch, Ellen,” Claire said, tearing her eyes away from the ring for a second. “We should be good with Fergus. We’re just about to put a film on, so everything should be fine.”

 “An’ give us a shout if ye need a hand wi’ anythin’ mam,” Jenny returned. “Just because Claire an’ I are goin’ tae talk about my ring, doesnae mean ye cannae shout on us.”

 Ellen nodded her head and took the tray downstairs, leaving the plates for Claire and Fergus, Ellen went back down to continue with her baking, leaving Claire and Jenny to gush about the morning’s events.

 “First thing’s first,” Jenny said once Claire had put Toy Story on for Fergus to watch. “As my only sister, will ye’ be my maid of honour?”

 “Of course,” Claire gushed immediately. “I’d love to be your maid of honour…”

*** 

 The afternoon wore on, and soon it was time to start getting ready. Ellen had volunteered to get Fergus dressed since Claire and Jenny had lost track of time talking and were running short on time to get themselves ready. Claire’s outfit was reasonably simple, but she needed the time to try and focus on her hair. Jenny and Louise managed to fashion Claire’s hair into an acceptable messy bun, while Claire applied some light, natural makeup.

 “Jamie is going to love you in this,” Jenny smiled as she arranged Claire’s tartan sash correctly, then her own. “A little black dress is always a good idea for a Ceilidh, but the way yers clings in all the right places and paired with our Tartan, I don’ know if Jamie will be able tae keep his hands tae himself.”

 “Oiu,” Louise agreed. “I have seen how he is with you at the best of times. But we will have to make sure we get a photo of the three of you tonight.”

 “Aye,” Jenny agreed. “Yer first Hogmanay as a wee family. An’ Fergus is going to be so adorable in his wee kilt.”

 Before Claire could answer them, there was a knock on Jenny’s door. “Will ye three witches hurry up, we’ll be late, an’ we cannae hae that, da’s lighting the bonfire.”

 “William Simon Murtagh MacKenzie Fraser, ye little…” Jenny yelled as she chased her brother away from her door, followed by Claire and Louise’s laughter.

 Claire and Louise grabbed their bags, and Claire also grabbed Jenny’s before heading downstairs. Claire was knocked breathless when she saw Jamie and Fergus standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting on her. They were in matching black Jacobite shirts (as Jenny had explained when Claire bought it) and their own Fraser tartan kilts. The three of them truly were matching, like a little family tonight.

 Suddenly, Jamie’s eyes were drawn to Claire on the stairs, almost as if he had a sixth sense that was attuned to only her, and his jaw dropped open. “Claire,” he whispered almost reverently, and moved to the bottom of the stairs and held his hand out to her. “Ye’ are truly a beauty to behold, Sassenach.”

 “Thank you, Jamie,” Claire replied as she ducked her head to try and hide the blush adorning her cheeks. “And you and Fergus are truly perfect gentlemen, waiting on your lady at the bottom of the stairs to escort her to the party.”

 “You look pretty, M’lady,” Fergus said with an awestruck look on his face.

 “Thank you, Fergus,” Claire said as she scooped him into her arms. “And you look so grown up in your kilt.”

 “Right everyone,” Brian’s voice called out. “Let’s get going.”

“Let me get a picture of Jamie, Claire an’ wee Fergus first,” Ellen said as she came bustling into the hallway with her camera. Brian just shook his head and watched as his wife fussed about their son and his apparent new family, getting them into position and making sure she was taking the perfect photo.

 Once the photo was taken, everyone piled out to the cars and headed off to the town hall to begin the festivities to bring in the new year.

 ***

 The party was going well, the weather had stayed dry, so the bonfire was a success, and soon the band made the announcement that it was ten minutes to midnight. Claire and Jamie had been dancing away on the dancefloor while Fergus had been napping under the watchful eyes of Ellen and Brian.

 “’M goin’ to get Fergus,” Jamie said as the 10-minute warning was given. “I want tae ring in the Bells wi’ ye’ an’ Fergus in my arms.”

 “Okay,” Claire said with an encouraging smile, letting Jamie know that was exactly what she wanted too.

 Jamie soon returned with a groggy little boy in his arms, but as soon as they reached Claire, Fergus appeared to be more awake. Almost as if Claire’s presence was a tonic to his sleepiness.

 “It’s almost time to shout happy new year,” Claire said to Fergus, and Fergus reached out to Claire. Jamie handed him over to her and wrapped both of them in his large arms and began to sway back and forth with them while they waited on the countdown to begin.

 “10…” the band leader began, and everyone joined in. “9...8...7...6…5...4...3...2...1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

 “Happy new year,” Jamie said as he pressed his lips to Claire’s and pulled her and Fergus in closer to him. “Happy new year, Fergus.

 “Happy new year, Jamie,” Claire said as she pulled away from Jamie’s kiss. “Happy new year, Fergus.”

  “Happy new year, da’,” Fergus said as a wide smile split his face in two, turning from Jamie to Claire. “Happy new year, mam!”

Master List

[smol-and-grumpy]

Dear Dean (Chapter 7)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 3.6k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: There’s a little angst and fluff!

SERIES MASTERLIST

August 12th, 1944

“We’ll be moving out in the next few days. Get your men ready, get some training, double it if you must. Anything to get the men used to being in the front line again. Any questions?” Lieutenant Novak looked around the room, searching their faces to see nobody objecting. “You’re dismissed.” Novak, the new CO of Baker company, said, nodding at his men.

Dean turned around trying to make a quick escape, when Castiel singled him out. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“How’s your ankle?”

“It’s fine. Cas, I’m fine, don’t you worry.” It wasn’t a lie. It was so much better already. Dean only hoped that it would be good enough come the time to move out.

“You’d tell me if there’s anything alright?”

“I will.”

“How’s Bambi?” The question was sudden, Castiel’s blue eyes flickered to Dean. Dean swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wondered if Cas knew.

He frowned at Cas, raising an eyebrow. “What’s with Bambi?”

“I mean, how much do you need him in your platoon, because as you know, I lost a lot of men in two and three platoons. I could use him there.” Cas looked at him, unfaltering.

Shit, he really meant it.

“I’m sorry, Cas, but Bambi is not up for discussion. He’s valuable to my platoon, too.” Dean knew that Cas was the CO. He knew that if Cas wanted Bambi in another platoon, he could just fucking do it, and Dean could do nothing against it. His only hope was that Cas was still his friend and would act like it. He always used to consult him and thought highly of Dean.

“That’s what I thought.” Cas lowered his gaze and fished out a cigarette tin from his webbing before he flickered open the tin and tugged a cigarette between his teeth. “Just wanted to ask.”

“Sure.” Dean nodded, and made his way out with his hands full of mail from home.

Dean made his rounds, dropping the mail off to his men. They eagerly tore open the envelopes, swallowing down the words they read. Some of them laughed, some of them had tears in their eyes.

He saw Bambi, sitting by the fire, his gaze fixed on the flames that were dancing, making his face light up in a warm glow. Looking at the fires reflection in his large eyes made Dean shift his weight, he decided that there was no time like the present to talk to Bambi. Talk about what happened on that day in the alley. Clear the air. He avoided it for too long already and hell, he still had to work with the guy.  He wanted it out of the way. Dean wasn’t really a poster child for healthy communication, he knew that, but he was a leader in the damn war and he needed to act like one.

“Sir, anything else?” Harvelle asked eyeing Dean when he didn’t react to their questions. To be frank, he didn’t even realize they were talking to him.

Dean blinked. “Huh? No. As you were.”

The soldiers went on with their duties, some were cleaning their weapons, some opted to write back to their families and sweethearts.

“Bambi,” He approached the small private who still watched the flames and cupped a metal mug in his hand.

“Sir?” He was at attention immediately, like he’d being drilled in Basic, and then when Bambi looked at Dean, the small private grinned.

Dean put a hand on the private’s shoulder. “Everything ok?”

“Uh..Fine.” Bambi put down his coffee. “Just lost in thoughts, sir.”

It was almost funny, Dean thought. Bambi’d been lost in thoughts and Dean’d been lost in him.

He was curious what Bambi was thinking about. Was he thinking about what happened in the alley? Maybe he thought about it as much as Dean was? Because even if Dean didn’t want to think about it anymore, the last thing on his mind before he laid himself to sleep is of the private’s gentle lips and how they felt on his.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Dean asked him, squeezing his shoulder a little, and Bambi looked up to him. Bambi’s grin was gone, but he nodded. “Let’s take a walk.” Dean suggested and began to walk ahead.

Bambi caught up to him quickly, and was soon walking beside him, his hand in his pockets.

“You sure you alright?” Dean asked after a while as they took a turn into a street which was less busy. Abandoned and destroyed buildings left and right of them.

“Sir, I’m fine.”

I’m fine. Dean knew that saying. It meant that nothing was fine, but he’d take it and didn’t ask more.

Dean needed to be somewhere more private for him to talk to Bambi about what happened. He knew that he couldn’t risk someone eavesdropping on them, because the last thing he needed was being thrown into jail for being queer - which he was not.

He tried and opened up the next door he found that was still in its hinge and peeked inside. When he saw that it was clear, he opened up enough for Bambi to step in and Bambi did it without questioning him.

Bambi stood in the room, turning to face Dean as he closed the door behind him.

Dean took a step closer to the private. His heart was pounding out of his chest and he didn’t even know why. He felt blood rushing through his head and he couldn’t hear anything other than the drumming of his heart that, by the growing smirk on Bambi’s full lips, he assumed that Bambi could hear it too.

Dean cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Listen,” He started to say and took a deep breathe. Hell, he’d been practicing before. He had this whole speech prepared to tell to Bambi; had his words carefully arranged to tell the private that he was not queer and the kiss was a mistake and he didn’t mean to; but it seemed like now, his mind was blank.  

“I’m listening, Lieutenant.” Bambi was still smirking. He didn’t wear a helmet for once. They didn’t have to around there, and Dean could see that the private’s hair was slowly growing out. It was sticking out a bit over his ears, and it looked really cute on him.

Dean shook his head. No, shit… he couldn’t think that the private was cute. Especially then. Not when he was supposed to be shutting it down.

Dean swallowed again. “I..uh.. I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

“What did happen, Sir?” Bambi raised an eyebrow with a grin.

That stupid grin.

“Bambi, the kiss.” Dean hissed. Bambi was clearly fucking with him and Dean was slowly growing impatient.

“Oh, that…” The private had his lips in a tight line, his cheeks puffed out as if he’s trying to hold back a laughter.

“Look, I’m really not queer,” Heat rose up Dean’s neck and cheeks, his heart still beating fast and he thought, well, I’m really not? “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake… huh!” Bambi exhaled the huh empathetically, raising an eyebrow at Dean again, paired with a frown. “And there I thought that you were in love with me, Lieutenant.”

Dean gasped, his eyes widening. It felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs.

The private’s face turned red from holding in his laughter.

“Just kidding.” Bambi doubled over, laughing hard then. He gathered his breath and he looked at Dean smugly after he composed himself.

He exhaled and tried not to look into Bambi’s big doe eyes. Instead, he looked at Bambi’s boots. “We shouldn’t. It won’t happen again.”

“Sure,” Bambi shrugged nonchalantly and it drove Dean nuts. Why was the private shitting him? Did he not realize how serious it was? What was at stake?

Bambi was standing in the middle of the room, a wicked grin on his face and even though Dean said that it won’t happen again, all he could think about now was that he wanted it to happen again. He wanted to just grab the privates soft cheeks and smash his lips against Bambi’s pink and plum ones.

Dean balanced his weight from one foot to another. His ankle is doing much much better already.

“I’m really not… you know, interested… in men.” Dean muttered half heartedly, taking a step towards the small private to try to intimidate him.

“Me neither.” Bambi was still grinning very arrogantly, when he too, took a step towards Dean. Unfazed by Dean’s demeanor.

“But the kiss,” Dean began, as he took another step. All of a sudden his mouth felt too dry and he licked his lip deliberately.

“What kiss?” Bambi asked when he took another step and then the private echoed Dean’s lip licking and he flashed his teeth and fuck… Dean’s heart picked up speed. The private’s lips were slick and shiny and it looked more kissable than before.

“Bambi! Focus!” Dean was now so close to the small private and he could smell the coffee Bambi just drank a moment before when the private let out a deep breath.

“Oh..,” The private’s lips curled up into a grin. “You mean that kiss!” Bambi giggled and Dean really didn’t know how he should react to that until Bambi added “It was a nice kiss, sir.”

And if Dean was blushing before, he was a tomato now. He swallowed the lump that built up in his throat as he tried to form something coherent to say. Something he could come up with as an answer to that, but Dean’s brain failed him once more. It was a nice kiss. Before Dean even realized what he was doing, he scooped Bambi up into his arms and smashed his mouth against Bambi’s.

Bambi hooked his feet at Dean’s back and his arm around Dean’s neck, clinging to Dean and opened his mouth for Dean to lick into. He walked the couple of steps to the next wall and pushed Bambi against it while he kissed the private hungrily, his tongue tasting the familiar taste of burnt coffee. Bambi moaned into Dean’s mouth as he nibbled at Dean’s bottom lip with his sharp teeth.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth. Raw and sweet at the same time, and Dean groaned as Bambi sucked in his tongue, making him forgetting his own damn name.

Bambi cupped Dean’s cheek, his tongue pushing against the roof of Dean’s mouth and Dean ground his hips up, searching for friction the private would provide him, but then something was not right.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. Pulling his face away from the private. His bulge would have met another bulge when he ground his hips up, but there was no resistance. Nothing. Nix.

Dean’s eye widened as he looked into those big eyes of Bambi. He was met by a stupid grin on the private’s face. “What the fuck?” Dean muttered out of breath, his forehead resting on Bambi’s as his gaze travel down between them.

Bambi giggled then and Dean started to blush more and more.

“Bambi, what’s going on? Where’s your fucking dick?” Dean can’t believe he would ever say a sentence like this in his life.

“Uh..I guess I left it back in Trenton, sir.” There was a cheeky wink and Dean didn’t know if he should punch the private or kiss Bambi stupid for that. He was confused and as of yet, undecided.

“What the fuck is going on? Are you… wait, no.” Dean shook his head, not sure what was going on and he was irritated to say the least.

“Come on, sir. You really didn’t notice? You’re a smart man. Come on now, show me that you can put two and two together.” Bambi cupped Dean’s cheek again, making Dean look at him. His brow furrowed but the private’s thumb painting circles on his scruff and strange enough, it calmed him down and put him at ease.

Dean searched his brain, trying to put two and two together.

“Fuck! No shit!”

There it was. The realization that hit him like a freight train and Bambi laughed at him now before she pecked his lips again, and Dean muttered underneath her lips. “How did you get in?”

“Lieutenant, you just have to know one thing,” She said, her eyes glistening in the dim light of the room as she winked at him and smiled ever so sweetly. “Never, ever, underestimated me.”

And then Dean rested his forehead back on hers and chuckled out a “Yes, Ma’am.” before he bumped their noses together.

Bambi kissed him again now, and this time, the kiss was different. It wasn’t laced with a weird feeling of doubt, fear and uncertainty anymore. It was more passionate, more sweet, demanding even. Dean broke the kiss just to be able to breath and look at her again. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?” He murmured, kissing her cheeks and down along her jaw to bury his face in the crook of her neck. “As much as I want to spend more time with you, Bambi, but I think we need to get back.”

Bambi giggled before Dean let her down. They’ve been away for too long and it’s close to dinner time. There would be another opportunity where they would have more time together, Dean was sure of that. Even if it would mean that Dean needed to convince Cas to double up sentry.

Dean tried to rearrange his combats to conceal the straining bulge that he wished he could act upon, before he looked at how she straighten her jacket. “But hey, I told you that I wasn’t queer, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, sure.” She laughed at him with a shrug, “Told ya I wasn’t queer either.”

Dean opened the door for her but pulled her back by her arm before she could step out and kissed her one last time. He couldn’t get enough of her, Dean knew that much and maybe it would be his downfall.

They talked on the way back to the campfire. No, of course she doesn’t want anyone to find out and she’ll rip Dean a new one should he tell it to anyone. Dean made a mental note of that, because he was sure that Bambi would be true to her words.

No, she doesn’t want for him to send her home. It’s not that he didn’t try to tell her that he could send her home with a lame excuse.

No, she doesn’t want special treatment, but she was glad that the secret was out so at least she had someone who knew why she might not want to do things with the others. She explained why she did it and her motives were sincere. Dean would have done the same if he was her. Hell, he was sure that he probably would. Knowing that Sam was out there and he had to sit at home because he was a damn girl? Nah, he would have done the same or at least he would have tried. He probably wouldn’t have come that far.

They parted and when she walked back to her friends, Dean watched her go. He was glad that he really wasn’t queer because damn, how could he tell Sam about that one. He was glad that he didn’t have to. But on the other hand, there was a new problem. Bambi was a freaking girl. A girl that he liked and fuck, he didn’t want to get attached during war, but he gets what he gets, right?

“And there was this broad, right? Fuck, her hips as wide as my shoulders,” Trenton was telling them about a conquest in England and they were all grinning, including Jamie. They all knew that Trenton was all talk, but they let him because his stories were amusing. Now, Jamie was there that night, and she knew exactly what happened but she kept mum.

Trenton went on, “Fucking child bearing hips, man, and all I thought was that I wanted to give her the children she deserved because those hips should have been illegal!”

“Cut the chase, Trenton! Did you?” Dopey was leaning closer to Trenton and Jamie could see that he was obviously on edge to know if Trenton did in fact, bed that broad. Maybe it was the lack of entertainment while they are awaiting to move out. Meaning, there was none. They kept each other entertained by telling stories and jokes and honestly, Jamie thought that she heard them all.

“Of course I did, man! Pumped her full. Maybe I’ll be a dad real soon!” Trenton chirped, a shit eating grin on his face.

There were cheers of oooohhhhh’s and uuuuhhh’s. And even though Jamie knew that it was a total lie, she kept it to herself. There was no way that she’s going to steal Trenton’s thunder. She’d let him shine. The war is though enough and hell, she didn’t even know if half of the stories of the others were accurate, so.

“What’s so funny?” Jamie knew that rough voice. It was Dean’s. She looked behind her to see him and Lieutenant Balthazar balancing trays of food. Gabriel and Castiel were still in line.

“Trenton is telling us about his baby mama he left back in England, sir.” Dopey shouted and smiled brightly at Trenton, but Trenton didn’t return the smile. He was a little embarrassed, and Jamie could tell that by the blush that started to spread on Trenton’s face.

“Is that so?” Balthazar chuckled, and instead of them going to another table where the other NCO’s of their company were sitting, Balthazar put his tray down next to Jamie. “I wanna hear all about it.” And they all scooched up to accommodate the Lieutenants and the ones who were still waiting in line.

Dean was sitting across of Balthazar and maybe Jamie just imagined it but he had a little smile on his face when their eyes met.

“Uh..sir, nothing really worth telling.” Trenton stammered a little. Sure thing was that he can tell the story to his mates, but for him, it was a whole other thing telling it to his superiors. Trenton didn’t know where the line was and he didn’t want to cross it and anger them.

Dean chuckled at that. “Come on, Trenton. Share it with the class!”

“Al-alright, but you asked for it, sir.”

Dean and Balthazar looked at each other, raising their eyebrows and shrugged before they turned their attention to Trenton and he began to tell them the story again.

Jamie didn’t listen. She had heard it too many times already.

At the end, they were all laughing again and she wondered if they were laughing to make Trenton feel better.

“Was that your first time?” Balthazar asked bluntly. He was like that. Balthazar always was a bit rude and a little straight forward. Jamie was glad that she wasn’t in his platoon.

“Balth,” Dean tried to defuse the situation, because everyone could see how uncomfortable Trenton was feeling.

Balthazar shrugged at Dean. “What? It was just a question. My god…”

“I think, with all due respect, sir. It’s none of your business.” Jamie jumped in and turned to look at Balthazar, now the shit eating grin was her face.

Balthazar was speechless for a moment and the distraction came in the forms of Lieutenants Gabriel and Novak who sat down at the table.

“I think Blum’s right, Balth,” Castiel took a bite from his food, “You’re being an asshole.”

Balthazar looked at Jamie, grinning back now. “You think I’m rude too, Bambi?”

“Balth,” Dean said again, this time, a little louder, a little stern and it made Balthazar blink a couple of times. Jamie knew that he was probably pissed that Dean jumped in.

“Yes, sir.” Jamie’s voice was calm.

Balthazar looked at her, and then he started to laugh, throwing his head back dramatically and everyone was just looking at him, waiting for him to calm himself down. She raised an eyebrow. She thought the behavior was weird because it really wasn’t funny.

As Jamie thought, it wouldn’t be long until Balthazar would pick on her again and she was right. He turned his attention back to her, “And you, Bambi? Did you ever get laid or are you going to die a virgin in this war?”

“Balth!” Dean stood up from his seat and smashed his fist on the table angrily, spilling some drinks on impact. The whole hall went quiet. “Shut the fuck up! If you want to shit on a platoon, do that to your own. These are my men and they deserve to be treated with some goddamn respect!”

Dean lowered himself back to his seat, as he let his words sink in, and Jamie grinned before she spoke with a steady voice. “With all due respect, sir, first of all, Bambi is the name that only Lieutenant Winchester and my platoon are allowed to call me. Second of all, sir, I’ve probably bedded more broads than you because I’m cute and you’re just an asshole.” She grinned wide and added “At least that’s what your mom said to me.”

The table was still and Balthazar gasped. Nobody dared to say a word until a laughter broke the silence. Novak, who knew Balthazar since they went to Kindergarten together had a laughing fit, snorting even signaling that it was safe for everyone else to join in.

Dean smiled at her, his green eyes glistening, silently telling her that she did good.

CHAPTER 8

[thelittlestcheshire]

Self Para 003: Logan’s Birthday

I bet you’ll see him sooner than you think.

As hard as Ches tried to forget her youngest sister’s words throughout the day, and to stop checking her messages every five seconds in case any of her siblings actually texted her what they were up to; it was hard. All she wanted was to know what Ella was on about, how sooner would she see her brother? A day before graduation? Two days? Weeks? The anticipation had her restless, bouncing in her seat as she tried her hardest to focus on her work, unable to answer quite what she was so excited about anytime someone asked or gave her as much as a confused glance.

“If you had a tail, you might actually take flight. Manage to talk to Elliot?” Zander asks as he sits down next to her in their last class of the day, the girl makes a face when he mentions the boy she had actually managed to successfully push out of the forefront of her brain today.

“Hell no, there’s nothing to discuss. It’s Logan’s birthday, I’m gonna call him after class.” Ches rolls her eyes as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Apologize to the guy who fucked up your face yet?”  Honestly, she didn’t think he had any desire to actually apologize to Jack, but if they were going to go tread on subjects they clearly didn’t want to discuss, it was the best one she could pull from her sleeve at the moment.

“You know what, forget it. You’re right, nothing to discuss.” He gives her a look before he looks away to open his notebook. Before she can ask him about the tone, however, the bell rings to signify the start of class. With a sigh, the bottle-blonde looks away from him to try to focus on her work the best she could at the moment.

---

The class seemed to drag on today, even though she really liked Shakespearean Studies, she didn’t want to do any of this today. It was impossible to not glance at the clock every couple minutes, waiting for the bell to ring so she could dart out of the room to call the siblings who were clearly ignoring her text messages. By the time the teacher was done teaching and her peers were chattering as they waited for the bell to ring,  saying the girl was restless was an understatement. When her phone finally goes off, the girl is moving the fastest she’d ever moved to answer a text to check it.

🦁 (Emmett): Check your locker ASAP, you’ve got a surprise!

A puzzled look crosses her features as she reads her brother’s text message, what kind of surprise from Emmett would require her to be at her locker immediately? And why would he deliver it on Logan’s birthday? The answer clicks within seconds and the girl is hastily packing up her stuff and all but glaring at the clock to hurry up. By the time the final bell rings, she’s up and out of her seat, running towards her locker. The second she turns the corner and notices her oldest brother leaned up against her locker holding a coffee cup, the girl excitedly screeches, much to the chagrin of everyone around her, and sprints faster than she had in months over to him. “Logan! You’re here!” She throws herself into his hug with so much force, coffee spills all over his sweater and her school uniform, but she doesn’t care. “You’re really here, and I’m so happy to see you. It’s your birthday and you’re here.” The girl is already starting to cry tears of joy as she clings to the man, and for once, she doesn’t care if the entire student body saw her crying. She was elated, and if they didn’t like it, well, she didn’t care.

“I was surprised when Emmett finally told me where we were going, the boys are in the car, dropped the girls off fast before coming over. I take it he didn’t tell you either?” Logan Elswood squeezes his sister a bit tighter as he says the words, seeming not to mind the fact they’re both covered in hot coffee as he hugs her. “I’ve missed you too, kiddo. Don’t suppose you could free up your schedule enough to go grab a bite to eat, spend some time with this old man, huh?”

Did he truly think that for a second she wouldn’t tell this entire school they could wait and not cancel all of her plans in a heartbeat? Ches hoped not, because this was a no brainer to her. “Consider them canceled already! I can’t believe you’re actually here.” She pulls away, although not completely willing to look him over. “You’re looking well, dude. Even if I just spilled your coffee all over you.” She smiles, looking him up and down carefully. There were no hints of powder on his face, his nose didn’t look raw in the slightest, and she actually starts to cry harder as she realizes he’s doing well, that he’s actually okay. “How long are you here for? Please say you’re staying for a while.”

“Wish we could kiddo, the girls are fighting to stay through the weekend, but we might be heading back tonight.” Logan looks apologetic as he says the words, the frown crossing his features feeling almost like a stab to the heart. “But you know, when I said the boys, I meant all of them so… this is for you.” He offers her the cup as it suddenly clicks why he was waiting by his locker with coffee of all liquids. Jamie was also here, a thought that made her want to find Elliot just warn him to avoid her until the menace was out of town. Although as she opens her locker to put her books away, she remembers he was doing that just fine on his own without the warning already.

“I’ll need about ten of those if he starts up, but I’ll try to be nice.” She warns him as she finally takes the cup, taking a sip. He still remembered her coffee order, that was nice. “Mind if we head to my room for like ten minutes so I can get into comfy clothes before we head out.” It’s not really a question as she closes her locker and starts to head in that direction, expecting her brother to just follow. “If anyone bitches about no guests in dorms, well, they can fuck right off today.”

“Language.” Logan scolds her, shaking his head as he indeed does follow her through the school. “What have I told you about the language?”

“There are no kids here!” Regardless of the protest, the guilt she feels probably is showing on her face. “But you’re right, I gotta mind the tongue. How’s the little princess doing? Still hasn’t said her first word?” She hadn’t heard of it if Isabelle had, so she figured that the child hadn’t. After all, nobody in their family would be so heartless to not immediately tell Ches her niece had spoken her first word.

“She’s doing well, I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you.” Logan shrugs as they reach the girl’s dorms. “Still no real words, she’s doing a lot of what you call the French babble sound though.” The news causes her to grin, was she actually going to be right on the language the kid’s first word was in? She had no idea but she was going to take this as evidence for her theory all the same.

“Probably not as excited as I am to see her.” Ches laughs, the words genuine regardless of her jokes. She was finally going to see her niece after months of missing the child, the realization only caused her to pick up the pace to the common room she shared with Callie, letting the two of them inside. “Okay, if my roommate comes in, don’t scare her off, I’ll be right back.” She hands him his coffee before she all but runs into her room, shutting the door behind her as she quickly rushes to find clothes more suitable for celebrating her brother’s birthday with the people she loved most. It’s probably the fastest she’d gotten ready in years, changing her clothes and fixing her makeup faster then she’d usually shower for even.

She grabs her purse on her way out the door, turning around to lock her bedroom door before they head out. Before she can suggest they start heading for the parking lot, however, Logan’s talking to her again.  “Hey, Ches, why don’t we invite that Elliot kid you keep talking about?”

“No!” She answers, a bit too quickly as she scrambles to find a valid excuse other than admitting she’d been rejected. “He’s allergic to rabbits, you brought Jerome right? We absolutely can not invite him! Nobody wants to do a first meeting while suffering from allergies.” As she turns to look back at her brother, she can tell he doesn’t believe her.

“Could I meet him before I leave, at least?”

“He’s got piano practice!” Ches starts to walk out of the common room, the sooner she gets Logan off of Luxor’s campus, the better. Before they actually ran into someone who’d try to help him meet the boy she currently was avoiding.

“He’s got piano practice all weekend without breaks?” The tone of Logan’s voice is one she knows a bit too well, she didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was giving her the look he gave her every time he knew she was lying to him. Fuck.

“He’s very dedicated to his craft. We really shouldn’t interrupt him.”

“Ches, I could probably make a novel out of how much you’ve told me I have to meet this boy the next time I’m in town. Perhaps not a very exciting one, but you’ve said at least 50,000 words. What’s going on?” He knows her way too well, something she’d usually appreciate but currently was almost annoying. He offers her back her coffee as she starts to pout, and the girl takes it from him and eagerly takes a sip as they walk.

“I just don’t think I should be bringing the guy I like around the family with Jamie in town, you know? It’s probably stupid, but, I don’t trust him not to make moves and I’m surprised Eli even can stand being around me sometimes.” It’s not a complete lie, she supposed, but it’s not exactly the reason she’s refusing to let Logan anywhere near him. “I’ll introduce you during graduation? It’s just really not a good time.”  As she glances over her shoulder, she knows he’s still not buying it but he nods.

“Okay, if you need to talk-“

“I’ll come to you. Right now, we need to leave all the baggage at the door because today’s about you. You’re turning 50, we’ve gotta celebrate the whole totally skipping out on the gray hair thing, clearly!” She winks at him as she takes the shortest possible route to the office. “That’s an achievement, I think.”

“You know, with you guys, 24 might actually be the new 50.” Logan chuckles, “whatever am I going to do with you?”

“Too late to sell us on Craigslist, pretty sure the feds can sniff that for miles now. eBay? I dunno. You’ll figure it out.” She grins, “though I’d wait a few weeks. These guys are probably gonna ask questions if I don’t sign back in at some point.”

“Could say Mr. Elswood pulled you out of school.”

“Which one would do that?” She eye rolls as she opens the door to the main office. “I should probably drive over by myself and meet you guys at the house, want me to steal a few of your passengers?” She asks as they approach the front desk to sign out.

“If you wanna take Emmett, by all means. I’ll keep the rest with me. You sure you don’t wanna invite anyone? Lucy? She’s always welcome to invade.”

“Positive.” Ches finishes signing her name quickly, “now hurry up. I’ve got a baby to kiss and a brother to save from Jamie.”

“You don’t…” Logan starts, but as he trails off, he starts to write even faster. “Actually, you’re right we should go separate the boys.” He sets the pen on the desk, taking even longer strides than usual as the two hurry to the parking lot.

“I’m just saying I regret not pushing you out of the car on the highway.” Emmett’s voice could be heard across the parking lot, and as much as Ches regretted Emmett didn’t push Jamie out of the car on the highway as well, she runs over to the sound. Trying to hold back a smile when she sees just how frustrated Jamie looks.

“Now, that’s not any way to talk in front of Logan on his birthday!” The scolding is a bit mocking as she winks at the two boys. She ignores them as she opens one of the rear car doors, a grin quickly forming on her face as she watches a certain ten-month-old child’s expression light up as soon as she sees her. “Oh, I missed you too. How’s my sweet baby girl doing?” The words are in French, easily slipping off her tongue as she unbuckles her niece’s car seat and picks her up. “I’ve missed you so much.” She kisses the girl’s cheek loudly a couple of dozen times.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jonah jokes, “your favorite twin rides in the car with these two for hours, and Belle gets loved on first? I see how it is.” She knows that laugh, he’s not serious or offended in the slightest, so she just continues doting over the child.

“Chien.” The baby in her arms giggles and Ches’s mouth drops. That was French, Belle was speaking French. Maybe it was the wrong animal, but it was the right language.

She looks over to the girl’s father quickly, “please tell me you heard that.”

“She said chien!” The man gasps, quickly moving to take the girl from her to dote over her himself. Ches hands her to him, ignoring the throbbing in her heart as she already has to let go of the child as she does so. “This is the best birthday present, huh Belle?”

“The best word too, if I say so,” Jonah adds in as Ches loops around the car to hug him. “Though pretty sure someone owes Ches money now.” She raises an eyebrow at him as she hugs her twin brother, just waiting for it to sink in that he was part of that betting pool.

“Yeah, you do.” Jamie reminds him, “and I do. What’d Emmett put in the pool?”

“French, because unlike you I’m not a complete dumbass.” Emmett shrugs, “Ches was speaking French, who’d have guessed the kid learned some!”

“You made bets on my daughter’s first words?” Logan doesn’t seem surprised, regardless of the question. “Can’t we go back to betting on normal stuff like how long the pizza will take to arrive?” He starts hooking Belle back into her car seat as he talks, much to Ches’s disappointment. She could hold the child again later, it wasn’t like she already had to say goodbye.

“Pretty sure normal people don’t start a betting pool for their pizza delivery estimates. Not that I know a lot of those.”  Emmett shrugs, “anyway, I call Ches’s shotgun. Have a safe drive back to the house, feel free to push Jamie out of the vehicle for me!” He doesn’t wait for anyone to say anything before he’s pulling Ches away from Jonah and towards the student parking lot, ignoring Jonah’s complaints about cutting into his Ches time in the process.

Clearly, something was bothering him, and while Ches had a theory on part of it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just Jamie invading his birthday plans for Logan. As she gets in the car, the first thing Ches does is pass him the aux cord in hopes of letting him get whatever he’s feeling out there.

After all, they both had a day of celebrations waiting for them once they arrived back at the vacation home. The sooner they both got out everything bringing them down, the better. It was Logan’s birthday, it was supposed to be all excitement, balloons, and cake. Once the car ride was done, there was no more time for sadness.

This was Logan’s party, and she was going to try her best to have fun and be nice to Jamie, just because that’s what Logan wanted her to do. Elliot, Lucy, everything could wait one more night. The most important thing tonight was her family was here, that she was going to be able to hug Logan and celebrate with him as they figured out together what Emmett had planned for the night. She wasn’t going to let her drama or Jamie ruin it for any of them.

The girl puts her phone on silent before she pulls out of the student parking lot, if someone needed her, they were just going to have to wait until she was back on campus later.

[avengerscompound]

Finding Home - Conclusion

Finding Home: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x OFC (Daisy Adams)

Word Count:  1860

Warnings:  Angst, mentions of torture, violence, major character death, mentions of sexual abuse/rape, pregnancy, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex, pregnancy sex, Bisexual MMF threesome)

Synopsis:  Daisy Adams has abilities. She can read minds. Force her thoughts onto others. As a child, she is taken by Hydra and raised as a weapon. Daisy finds another and speaks to him in his dreams. He has been taken too. He wants to return to the man he loves. Can she get them back together? Will she even want to once she realizes that she’s falling in love?

Conclusion

Bucky spent the next two weeks just being with us. Preparations were made for his stasis. That all happened elsewhere. In our little world in the palace we just were. He particularly seemed to want to spend as much time with the children as he could. He would sit on the ground and build things out of blocks with Jamie. I’d find him on the couch with Sarah with her sleeping soundly on his chest while he read. Sometimes Steve would be sitting behind him, Bucky leaning against him. Steve’s hand would be resting on Sarah and I felt like I was going to cry. More than once I found Bucky, napping on our bed with both children.

I started to get desperate to stop what was going to happen. He couldn’t go under. I knew he had to while the Soldier was part of him but I also knew that I could fix it if they would just let me.

“I can get him out. Please, just let me try.” I pleaded.

We were all sitting on the couch together. It was our last night together. The children were both asleep. Sarah would wake again in about five hours. Under normal circumstances, we’d be using this opportunity to sleep. We were all restless though.

I reached for Bucky. He swatted my hand away and shook his head. “You aren’t well enough yet,” Bucky said squeezing my hand. “Plus you only just had a baby and you’re still healing from that.”

I toyed with his hand, running my thumb along his. “I have been healing though. You could let me try.”

“I know this is hard for you, doll. I do. It doesn’t have to be forever. You can come back when you’re well again, but I’ve been like this for far longer than I’d like to have been. You need to let me rest.” He got up and I looked up at him sadly. He ran his finger down my jaw. “I’m going to go have a shower.”

I turned to Steve. “Can’t they use the serum on me?”

He shook his head. “The result they are getting are disturbing, to say the least. I think it would be more likely to kill you than heal you. They’re working on it though.”

I lay down against Steve and he stroked his hand through my hair. “How can you be okay with this?”

Steve laughed but it was hollow and empty. “You know that I’m not.”

“What do you think we did that the world can’t just let us be happy? Why is it punishing us?” I asked. Tears had started to slip down my cheeks.

Steve squeezed me against him. “There was a time I used to believe in God. After all that’s happened …” He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s how the world works. Things don’t happen for a reason. They just happen. We’ll just have to appreciate the happiness we can get when it happens.”

I lay clinging to him when an idea hit me. “What about the Ark? The one that made Vision. Doctor Cho. If she could fix Clint, maybe she could fix me.”

“I did actually think about that. Helen is friends with Tony though. I’m not sure it would be safe to contact her. I’ve sent out feelers. The engineers here have been looking into the same technology. They’re in talks with her to bring some here. We can hope.” Steve answered.

“We can’t let him go under, Steve. We need him. I need him. He’s a piece of me.” I whispered.

Steve lifted my head up to face him. “He loves us. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t think he needed to. You have to give him the dignity of his decision.”

Bucky got out of the shower and I went and took one. When I was finally ready for bed I headed to the bedroom to find Steve and Bucky lying on the bed. They were both half-naked and just kissing and stroking each other. Their hands sliding over each other’s backs.

They looked up at me when I entered and I took a step back. “Sorry. I’ll come back when you’re done.” I said.

Bucky held his hand out to me. “Come here, Daisy.”

I shook my head. “You know I can’t. It’s okay. You should have this. I don’t mind.”

Bucky curled his fingers beckoning me over. “This isn’t about sex, doll. Come to bed.”

The three of us kissed and touched and held each other taking time to appreciate this last night we had. We fell asleep Steve spooning Bucky from one side, and my from the other.

I woke to the sound of Bucky whimpering. He was saying things under his breath. Calling for Steve. For me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I started by soothing Bucky’s mind so that he wouldn’t wake Steve. Steve had already wrapped an arm around Bucky and pulled their bodies closer together. It had become an automatic habit and they didn’t even wake when they did it. If Bucky didn’t still though Steve would wake and I wouldn’t be able to do what I had planned.

I sat up and grabbed a handful of tissues from my side table. I held them to my face and went to work. I scoured his mind, finding every trace of his brainwashing and picking it out. I cleared him of the triggers and the torture and the need to comply. I took it all out and as I did my nose began to bleed.

My blood seeped through the tissues onto my hands, but I didn’t stop. I started arranging his mind so that his memories of when he was tortured and the things he did as the soldier wouldn’t plague him anymore. He’d still remember them. I wasn’t erasing his life. I was just manually doing the thing time would normally do.

My head started to swim but I kept going. If I passed out that wasn’t the end of the world. When I was finally done, I felt weak. I took a few deep breaths and stood. I looked at the clock. It took a little while for my eyes to focus. It said 2.39. Sarah would wake soon. I just needed to clean myself up.

I stood and wobbled on my feet.

The first thing I was aware of was crying. That wasn’t unusual. We often woke to crying since Sarah joined our family. I opened my eyes. The bed was empty except for me and it was dark. My head felt light and I took a deep breath and savored it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I just felt so me.

I slowly realized the crying wasn’t stopping and that it wasn’t just Sarah. There was another small voice wailing calling out to Daddy. Jamie.

I scrambled out of bed and nearly fell over Steve. He was crouched on the floor cradling Daisy.

“Stevie?” I said it like a question. But I knew. I knew what had happened. She hadn’t wanted me to go under. That’s why I was so clear she’d taken the Soldier out of me. She wasn’t with me either. She was always with me, but right now I was just me. I had thought just me and died seventy years ago.

He looked up and tears were leaking from his eyes. Daisy was covered in blood. “She’s not breathing.” He said.

“Steve you gotta get help.”

He shook his head and just held Daisy’s lifeless body closer to him. I went to the kids.

Things passed in a blur. I know I took Jamie to Steve. He kept asking for Mama. I’d never heard his voice before. I thought if I ever heard it, it would make me happy. It didn’t at all.

I remember not knowing what to do with Sarah. She wanted to eat and she wanted her ma, but I couldn’t give her either thing. I called for help and they sent medics to take Daisy away. They also sent formula. I fixed it while Sarah screamed into my ear.

When I finally managed to calm her enough to feed her, Steve came in with Jamie. We sat huddled up together, not saying anything.

A funeral was arranged. Steve had wanted her to go back to New York and be buried where she had first found her home. We couldn’t even give her that. After all the things she’d given us. Her love, a family, my mind, each other, and we couldn’t give her a resting place where we knew she would want to be. Instead, she was cremated. We still have her ashes. We don’t know where we should take them.

Steve was shattered. She should have let me go under. Why did she have to do this to me? I now have to live with her blood on my hands too.

He tried to contact Tony Stark. Some of his friends came to her funeral. The dame… Natasha said that Tony didn’t remember her. That she must have done something to him. That someone named Vision was the same. That broke Steve just that little bit more.

We couldn’t stay broken though. We were parents now. We had to be strong for them. Steve had planned to leave Wakanda with Daisy and the kids after I went under. Instead, he took me. We settled in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Wanda came with us. She wanted to help with the kids and the head thing they could do. It was nice having her around in the end. I liked just us. Not having to run and being able to be together. Steve always needed more. He needed people. He needed something to stand for.

Jamie talks a lot now. He went from never making a sound to chattering away like he’d been talking for years. As much as I love listening to him, I would take it away if it meant she could come back and they could have their private conversations in their mind again. I wish I could hear him say the word Mama to her and have her answer instead of just hearing it that one time as he screamed it out in anguish.

The thing that really hurts is neither of them will remember her. They’ll never know a world with Daisy in it. They’re going to grow up not knowing how strong she was and how she fought so hard for us to be a family. How kind she could be. How much she loved them. All of us really.

I wish she could know how much I appreciate what she did for us. How she kept me, me. How she looked after Steve. How she never gave up trying to get us back together. I am happy with Steve. I am happy to be me again. I love my children. I finally feel like after all these years I’m who I am supposed to be and where I am supposed to be. I’ve found my home.

~ END ~

[insanityclause]

Betrayal is a play of extreme intimacy. I think it is intended to be almost unbearable. The story of a marriage and a friendship disintegrating is based on Harold Pinter’s own affair with Joan Bakewell. His approach, however, is surgical and logical. He does what we all do when a life event alters our trajectory. We search for the source. “Fifteen years ago I spotted that person with the puppy and stopped to say hello. He turned out to be a doctor. Today I am in Venice sharing a gondola with his brother.” (Wow THAT is a good one!)

Pinter begins in the present and follows the trail backwards to the beginning. In this case the present is 1977, and the beginning stretches back to 1968. Emma (Zawe Ashton) is married to Robert (Tom Hiddleston), and having an affair with Jerry (Charlie Cox). Actually the affair is over when we meet them, but their hearts are still tender. To add to the mix, Robert and Jerry are best friends and have been for years. Jerry was Best Man at Robert and Emma’s wedding.

Pinter slides us back a year here, two years there, and occasionally moves laterally in time. This does get confusing, but once you give over to the time travel and focus on the undoing of these relationships it all seems to work. Jamie Lloyd’s directorial choices keeps everyone onstage at all times with the result that, although the focus may be on any two characters, the third is never out of mind. A kind of unspoken ghost. Soutra Gilmour’s set and Jon Clark’s lighting serve to confine and manipulate both actions and emotions allowing all the elements a seamless interplay.

Hiddleston fairly crackles onstage. He is elegant and restrained and seems to be controlling the rage that runs in his veins. Cox is brilliant as the guy who got caught falling in love and decided to let it happen. Their scenes are packed with innuendo and the kind of lies that only intimacy can inspire. Their history is laid out like cards on a table, and in spite of their love for one another they circle round and round, never taking their eyes off one another, weapons within reach.

As Emma, Ashton is a collection of mannerisms and not much more. I think her screen work might be very effective, but on stage she never appears to forget that we are watching her. There is a layer of pretence in her performance that keeps us from connecting with her. Indeed, I was left wondering what these two robust men saw in her. There was no “there” there.

Still, it is enough that the men take the focus on this one. The tenderness and tragedy, while caused by Emma, belongs to this relationship. And, sad as it is, it is good to see two men invest their hearts and souls in one another. As to the outcome? Once the arc of the story has been revealed, Pinter takes his leave of the trio. How will they recover from the layers of betrayals – who knows? That these three will always be connected in spite of, and perhaps because of, the betrayals – that is certain.

Pinter is spare in the number of words he chooses. His precision is masterful. Underneath each carefully chosen word are layers upon layers of the unspoken thoughts that cling like microfibers. What is said is on the surface. What is meant lies beneath. Pinter manages to give us both in equal measure. This production at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre allows his writing to shine and hit us in places we thought we had hidden safely away.

[tomhiddleslove]

Betrayal is a play of extreme intimacy. I think it is intended to be almost unbearable. The story of a marriage and a friendship disintegrating is based on Harold Pinter’s own affair with Joan Bakewell. His approach, however, is surgical and logical. He does what we all do when a life event alters our trajectory. We search for the source. “Fifteen years ago I spotted that person with the puppy and stopped to say hello. He turned out to be a doctor. Today I am in Venice sharing a gondola with his brother.” (Wow THAT is a good one!)

Pinter begins in the present and follows the trail backwards to the beginning. In this case the present is 1977, and the beginning stretches back to 1968. Emma (Zawe Ashton) is married to Robert (Tom Hiddleston), and having an affair with Jerry (Charlie Cox). Actually the affair is over when we meet them, but their hearts are still tender. To add to the mix, Robert and Jerry are best friends and have been for years. Jerry was Best Man at Robert and Emma’s wedding.

Pinter slides us back a year here, two years there, and occasionally moves laterally in time. This does get confusing, but once you give over to the time travel and focus on the undoing of these relationships it all seems to work. Jamie Lloyd’s directorial choices keeps everyone onstage at all times with the result that, although the focus may be on any two characters, the third is never out of mind. A kind of unspoken ghost. Soutra Gilmour’s set and Jon Clark’s lighting serve to confine and manipulate both actions and emotions allowing all the elements a seamless interplay.

Hiddleston fairly crackles onstage. He is elegant and restrained and seems to be controlling the rage that runs in his veins. Cox is brilliant as the guy who got caught falling in love and decided to let it happen. Their scenes are packed with innuendo and the kind of lies that only intimacy can inspire. Their history is laid out like cards on a table, and in spite of their love for one another they circle round and round, never taking their eyes off one another, weapons within reach.

As Emma, Ashton is a collection of mannerisms and not much more. I think her screen work might be very effective, but on stage she never appears to forget that we are watching her. There is a layer of pretence in her performance that keeps us from connecting with her. Indeed, I was left wondering what these two robust men saw in her. There was no “there” there.

Still, it is enough that the men take the focus on this one. The tenderness and tragedy, while caused by Emma, belongs to this relationship. And, sad as it is, it is good to see two men invest their hearts and souls in one another. As to the outcome? Once the arc of the story has been revealed, Pinter takes his leave of the trio. How will they recover from the layers of betrayals – who knows? That these three will always be connected in spite of, and perhaps because of, the betrayals – that is certain. 

Pinter is spare in the number of words he chooses. His precision is masterful. Underneath each carefully chosen word are layers upon layers of the unspoken thoughts that cling like microfibers. What is said is on the surface. What is meant lies beneath. Pinter manages to give us both in equal measure. This production at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre allows his writing to shine and hit us in places we thought we had hidden safely away.

-

[ Link to full article in source below. ]

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 106: Buddy’s Book

“We imagined him way off.”

As a children's librarian, I feel there are some things I should clear up before getting started. First, we don't read at the front desk as patrons come in (and we certainly wouldn't be reading something as smutty as Passions of Xanxor); our job is helping people, not sating our own love of books, and there’s tons of other work to do when patrons aren’t in immediate need. Second, we might tell noisy patrons to be quiet at times, but we don't loudly and nonverbally shoosh, because that’s rude as hell and would justifiably result in louder backlash. Third, we weed our collections regularly, meaning a journal that's hundreds of years old would've been trashed, donated, or (most likely in this case) moved to special collections long before it could've been left uncatalogued on the ground for a patron to find (and yeah, we are capable of checking beneath the shelves). 

None of these misconceptions matter that much, but what is a little annoying is the stereotype that libraries are book repositories, rather than information centers. Yes, we carry books, but we also carry digital media to fit a modern world, and more importantly, we're staffed with information specialists  who teach digital literacy to all ages. If you're a Connie, getting your information from the internet and citing erroneous sources, come to the library and we'll teach you how to research properly using every tool at your disposal, including your smartphone. Smartphones aren’t the problem. The internet isn’t the problem. Shoddy methodology is the problem, and it’s still a problem if you’re only researching with books, because books can be erroneous as well. Pick a world history book from as late as the 80s and it’ll tell you the USSR still exists. Pick a book written by a racist and you might walk away thinking some very biased information is factual, depending on your critical thinking skills.

Libraries have always been at the forefront of literacy, research, and community outreach, so don't let anyone in charge of budgets tell you that we're a relic of the past despite what portrayals of libraries so often amount to in media.

(Also, and as much as I loathe the Dewey Decimal System, which is outdated and nonadjustable and prejudiced and not at all structured well from a consumer-facing standpoint, which is crucial to kids especially: how did they not make a single reference to Dewey also being the last name of Beach City’s mayor and Buddy’s buddy?)

Okay, professional duties out of the way. Let's talk about stories.

Buddy's Book is about history, but more specifically, about the way we perceive history when we weren't there to live it. Nothing we see of the past looks the way it actually looked, because Steven and Connie are conflating a person who died centuries ago with Jamie. And it doesn’t stop at the visual level: unless we're to believe that the glorious line "I shall not disappear! I shan't die a lowly first mate! I shwill do something great with my life!" is actually written in the journal, the kids are allowing the idea of Jamie to seep into the narration as well. It’s reminiscent of one of my favorite Simpsons gags, where the ghost of Cesar Chavez explains that he appears as Cesar Romero to Homer because Homer doesn’t know what Cesar Chavez looked like. 

The kids say outright that they’re picturing Buddy as Jamie, so we’re aware from the start that reality is being altered. This sensation is enhanced when the Crystal Gems' appearances shift from their modern outfits to the way they looked in the old photo from So Many Birthdays as soon as the kids think to do so (complete with Amethyst's long hair, which was sorta retconned into being inspired by Greg's). Amethyst speaks using modern slang, and Garnet and Pearl exit their scene on a penny-farthing bicycle, which wouldn't be invented until the 1870s, because to a kid “the past” is a single nebulous unit of time where everything can mix together.

This is mostly played for laughs, and to great effect, but the timing of this episode forces us to confront the downside of nudging history to fit a better story. As silly as it is to insert modern concepts to fill in gaps from long ago, Steven has also had to fill the gaps for his mother's story, combining all the great things he’s heard about her from his family to create an impossible ideal of an imperfect figure. Learning that Buddy didn’t look anything like Jamie at the end of the episode is another joke, but learning that Rose wasn’t who Steven thought she was is the driving force behind Act III of the original series (a.k.a. the final two seasons).

And, of course, this is the first time we see Rose after the reveal. In a bubble, Steven’s lack of reaction to her appearance in the book seems like a misfire, but Mindful Education is coming right up to show how Steven is repressing his emotions (which also retroactively makes me enjoy his childish behavior here, such as not controlling the volume of his voice and playing with the rolling stool).

More than any other flashback so far, Rose is an enigma. She’s a mystery to Buddy, a normal human encountering a giant woman in the desert. She’s a mystery to her friends, all by herself in the desert with a small pride of lions that the other Crystal Gems don’t know about, judging by their reaction to Lion a few hundred years later. And she’s a mystery to us, because we’ve been told that she killed someone and are thirsty for answers.

Instead, she acts like she always has. She’s as empathetic and silly and encouraging as ever, but why wouldn’t she be? The most we’ve seen of her is in Greg’s flashbacks, so we already know what she acted like after the shattering. Read one way, this episode confirms that her behavior wasn’t a front, because she’s just as lovely with this random human hundreds of years earlier.

But remember, we aren’t actually seeing Rose here. We’re seeing Steven’s interpretation of Rose from the writings of a stranger’s journal, and he’s been embellishing this journal the entire time. I’m not saying that Rose didn’t do what the book purports, or that there’s any reason for us to think she didn’t act this way, but it’s up to Steven to show us, and when given the opportunity to present any character any way he likes, he still sees Rose the way he always has. We’re an episode away from his confronting those feelings, but it’s important to see that for now he’s still clinging to the stories he’s familiar with even after a new story has come to light.

Then, of course, there’s Lion. This is the first time in ages we’ve gotten a new hint at his backstory (it’s been on the back burner since Rose’s Scabbard), but as always, his origin remains shrouded. The connection to Rose is clearer than ever, but she’s with seven lions, not one, and none of them are pink. 

This is an area where I’m a little more frustrated by Steven not wondering aloud what’s up with the lions, but I’m not frustrated with Steven, if that makes sense.  Steven has never been as interested in the lore of the show as the fans; magic is his normal, so digging deep into where Lion came from would be like tracking down the family tree of a pet cat. Plus it would ruin the pacing of the episode for us to focus too hard on the lions, and it probably wouldn’t be great for the mystery. My frustration is from wanting a puzzle solved, which speaks to how effective this little side story has been. If we aren’t compelled enough to remember these details, Lars’s eventual resurrection has no oomph, so a little annoyance is worth it.

The coolest aspect of the episode by far is revisiting old haunts; Rose may praise Buddy’s writing, but his drawings are nothing to scoff at, and seeing the locations themselves is a delight. It’s a nice review of the show’s own history through the eyes of someone else (and then back again through the eyes of our heroes looking through the eyes of someone else). This is our second episode in a row with musical cues from past episodes, which I sadly can’t link to because we’ve reached the era where Aivi and Surasshu had to stop posting their background tracks online. Know Your Fusion and Buddy’s Book have a nifty through-line of looking into the show’s past, just as Buddy’s Book and Mindful Education have a through-line of Steven hanging out with Connie as she begins a new school year. It’s cool to see light structuring in the serialization after so many episodes in a row that were more directly connected.

Even though Jamie himself doesn’t actually appear in it, this is probably my favorite Jamie episode. Eugene Cordero has proven himself an expert ham many times over, and because the mailman is already larger than life, he’s even more melodramatic in the kids’ imaginations. Cordero sells that “shwill” with ease, but his best read is the desert monologue that goes an even deeper layer and has Steven and Connie imagining Jamie as Buddy imagining what other people would think of his quest: “‘Ha ha ha,’ they’d say. ‘What a fool,’ they’d continue.” 

The Gems get to be goofy as well, with Pearl speaking in mangled old-timey parlance, Garnet going big in her not-too-subtle pep talk, and Amethyst swinging from accommodating and annoyed. And it’s not as if Steven and Connie are serious, either. The lightheartedness is abundant, but unlike Kindergarten Kid or Know Your Fusion, it just feels wholesome. Sure, there’s snark here and there, but this is essentially two friends having fun at the library, which I’m all about.

I’ll repeat a third time that Mindful Education is incoming, and with it comes the reality of Steven’s situation. Stories are fun, but distractions only last so long, and Buddy’s Book is a wonderful way to give us a little more joy while priming us for a bigger story about when the stories we live by aren’t true. 

Future Vision!

It’s perfect foreshadowing to slip the Palanquin in with all the portrayals of places we’ve already been. Especially because Stephen’s Dream actually uses the journal as a reference point. (Also: did Connie steal that book? Because she certainly couldn’t have checked it out if it wasn’t catalogued.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Does it get things wrong about libraries? Sure. But this is still a fun and funny episode about research and narratives, so it’s burrowed its way into my heart regardless.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

When It Rains

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

No Thanks!

     5. Horror Club      4. Fusion Cuisine      3. House Guest      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

(Not sure why this one lacks promo art, considering it’s our first episode after the huge release rush of the Summer of Steven, but I love the True Buddy art from Tench.)